Spoilers: previews for the NCIS: LA episode "Random on Purpose."

So, I know nothing about this episode other than what I saw in the previews, and I don't want to (so don't anybody spoil me)! But if Abby ends up dating the Eric guy from NCIS: LA, I will be very displeased. My displeasure will know no bounds. I will be cranky, people. There may be yelling at the tv. This is my premptive strike against that. It's a little bit of a softer version of Abby, so it may not be perfectly in character - I leave it to you to judge.

Two songs that stuck in my head while I was writing this were "Use Somebody" by Kings of Leon and "Need You Now" by Lady Antebellum. Nothing either Abby and McGee would ever listen to, but it works with the feeling I'm going for in the story.

She knew he probably expected to be hugged when he picked her up at the airport. She was Abby after all. And she'd had a really, really crappy trip to L.A.

What he probably hadn't expected was that after hugging him so tightly he could barely breathe and assuring him that yes, she was okay, she promised, she would kiss him. Really kiss him, the way she hadn't kissed anyone in years. The way she'd only ever kissed him, actually, that special blend of sweetness with just a hint of sex that always made him smile against her lips, like he was now…

… until he broke the kiss and stared at her. "Abby!" he said in shock. She just smiled and kissed him again, ignoring the catcall from an obnoxious bystander in baggage claim. "Abby," again, this time a protest. Another kiss, and finally, on a long sigh, "Abby…" and her name came out as a loving, familiar caress.

"Timothy," she said happily, and leaned into the solid, familiar warmth of him. "Take me home."

*

They went to his apartment because he had to let the dog out. They didn't talk much on the ride home, but he drove one handed most of the way, keeping her fingers laced tightly in his.

"Jethro!" she squealed, laughing as despite McGee's commands of "Down! Sit!" her furry friend jumped up to lick her face. "I missed you too!"

McGee sighed and clipped a leash to his collar. "So much for the stellar combination of military training and obedience school." He headed for the door and then turned back to her. "He's been cooped up most of the day," he said. "I usually take him for kind of a long walk around now…" He trailed off, and Abby made shooing motions with her hand.

"You're fine. Jethro needs his exercise. I'm going to take over your bathroom and get rid of all the plane ick."

His made a face at her. "'Ick'? Is that a technical term?"

She made a face back. "Yes. Now go. I'll be here when you get back."

For a minute he hesitated, as though he didn't believe her, but Jethro was tugging at his arm so with a last smile, he headed out. The door closed behind him, and for a minute, she just stood still and enjoyed being somewhere that was not-a-hotel-room, not-an-ops-center, not-a-creepy-serial-killer's-lair, and not-a-plane. She knew McGee's apartment almost as well as her own, and it had the same comforting familiarity as its owner.

Who, given a nice long walk with the dog and nothing to occupy his brain, was going to start thinking about the current situation. And then overthinking the situation. And while she knew he would want to talk the whole thing out – he was Tim, it was how he worked, and he deserved that much – right now she just wanted…him. Wanted to be with him, wanted to love him and be loved by him.

Fortunately, she thought as she headed back to the bathroom, she was pretty sure she still knew how to push at least a few of McGee's buttons.

*

After a wonderfully long, hot shower, she smudged up her eyes just a little, painted her lips deep red, left her hair hanging in damp curls down her back, and at the last minute, snagged a black dress shirt he'd left hanging on the bathroom doorknob.

He had a thing for her wearing his clothes, and anyway…it smelled like him.

He was sitting in his desk chair, turned away from her, but he started to twist back when he heard the bedroom door open. "Abby, we should tal-"

And then he completed the turn, saw her, and trailed off into a stutter that became silence. Success, she thought with satisfaction. Plus, the way he was looking at her made her skin tingle.

With a smile, she crooked her finger at him. McGee swallowed hard as he stood and crossed to where she leaned against the door jamb. "What was that you were saying about talking?" she asked innocently.

He swallowed again. "Tomorrow?" he said, his voice sounding faint. He cleared his throat. "We can talk tomorrow."

Abby held up her hand, pinky extended, and when his finger hooked with hers, they both grinned. "When did you get back?"

"A few minutes ago. Ten?" His eyes were raking over her, from her toes to hair and back again, always returning to her face. "Something like that."

She used their still-linked pinkies to tug him a step closer. "You could have come in and joined me…"

"I didn't…" He absently adjusted the collar of her borrowed shirt with his free hand. "I didn't know if you'd changed your mind."

Tilting her head back, she laughed like she always did at their height difference when she was barefoot. She was used to looking him in the eye, and without her platforms she was looking him in the nose-ish area – it was always a shock. "I'm not changing my mind," she told him. "What about you? Second thoughts?" She tried to hide the nerves that suddenly squeezed her stomach when she asked that question.

McGee raised his eyebrows at her, and then slid his hand up her neck, along her jaw, into her hair, cradling her head. "No," he said, touching his lips to her cheek. "Not now." Her arms went around his neck and he wrapped his around her waist. "This is a dream…"

"Want me to pinch you?" she teased.

He shook his head, his nose brushing lightly against hers. "If it's a dream, I don't want to wake up."

"Then don't," she suggested, and felt his heartbeat skip when she pressed even closer to him. She watched his eyes go dark and needy and wondered if hers were doing the same, and then stopped wondering anything at all, because he was kissing her. Softly at first, then hungrily, and her knees went weak and her bones turned to water.

It didn't matter. Tim was holding her, and he wouldn't let her fall.

*

McGee woke to the feeling of something tickling his nose, and a warm, heavy weight draped across his chest. His first thought was that Jethro had jumped up on the bed, but as he breathed in, he smelled a unique but familiar mixture of gunpowder, roses, and chemicals.

He pried his eyes open and discovered that the thing tickling his nose was a strand of black hair, and the weight on his chest had smooth pale skin covered in black ink.

His alarm beeped suddenly in the quiet room, and he slapped at it a couple of times before managing to silence it. Abby groaned. "It's Sunday, McGee. Who sets their alarm on Sunday?"

"I forgot to turn it off," he said, and was surprised at how normal his voice sounded.

Abby groaned again and shifted, turning her head to look at him. She blinked and smiled sleepily. "Hey," she said.

Her eyeliner was smudged, her hair was a mess, her lipstick had rubbed off, and she was the most beautiful thing he'd seen in a very long time. "Hey," he said back. He brushed a strand of her hair away from her face. "Sleep well?"

"Mmhmm." Her eyes drifted closed again. "You?"

"Yeah." He was trying to carefully work out a tangle he'd hit in her hair, but when his hand bumped against her shoulder, she let out a hiss of pain. McGee frowned and brushed aside her hair to reveal the bruising on the back of her shoulder, near her neck, surrounding an almost invisible puncture mark. He'd found it the night before and only Abby's eyes, pleading with him to let it go, had enabled him to push his anger away. "You want to talk about it?"

She shook her head, somewhat awkwardly as she was still lying on top of him. "Not yet." Pulling his hand away from the spot, she draped his arm across her waist instead, and snuggled against him. "Maybe later."

He looked at the top of her head for a moment. Part of him wanted to stay in this cocoon of not talking, not thinking, just…being that they'd created, but he needed to know. "Abby, what are you doing here?"

She laid her hand flat on his chest, over his heart. "You were the only one I wanted." He opened his mouth to say something, but she poked him so he subsided. "I mean, I thought of everyone I might never see again, and I wanted to see all of you, but I just – I wanted you. I wanted to be with you. And I figured, if what I wanted right then, more than anything else, was you, then maybe…" She sighed. "You know I'm no good at this, McGee."

She wasn't, but he understood anyway. "Good enough," he told her.

They were quiet for a while, but it was a good quiet. "I'll probably try and run," she said suddenly.

"Okay…" he said, not sure of the best response to that. He could feel her thinking, trying to find her next words.

Finally, she found them.

"Don't let me."

FIN