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Abby was sitting in front of her monitor when Gibbs entered, Caf-Pow in hand.
It was after midnight on a Friday, and the building was nearly empty. DiNozzo and Ziva had gone home, even Ducky and Palmer had left Autopsy. But music still blared out of the speakers in Abby's Lab.
"What have you got for me, Abbs?"
She twisted on her chair, twirling the end of one pigtail around her finger. "Major Mass Spec found traces of amorphous silicon dioxide, and I'm running it against the soil samples from the area where the body was found. That'll tell us if she was killed there, or just dumped."
"DiNozzo's still checking out the girlfriend's alibi. It can wait til morning. Why don't you head home?"
"I have my futon." She gestured vaguely towards the ballistics lab on the other side of the glass.
Gibbs put a finger to her lips, and pointedly stared down at her bare feet beneath her buttoned-up labcoat. Her toenails were painted with dark red varnish, and she wiggled her toes experimentally.
"Rule 27, Abbs," he said with a smile as he pressed a kiss to her cheek.
"Go home, McGee," he called over his shoulder as he walked out of the lab, hands in his pockets.
Abby pressed both hands to her mouth, stifling giggles. After 15 Mississippi's, the length of time it took Gibbs to get from the door of the lab to the elevator, Tim popped up behind the glass. His hair was sticking up from pulling on his tee-shirt over his head, and his shirt was mis-buttoned.
"How did he know I was in here?"
"He's Gibbs." Abby shrugged, and skipped over to him. Her red plaid trousers were in a pile on top her boots, the chains and buckles clinking against each other as she reached down into the pile to pull out her white cotton socks.
"What's Rule 27?" McGee asked as she waved happy warm feet at him.
"No sex in the lab."
Tim thought about that for a minute, two questions obviously warring with one another. In the end, he went with the one least likely to get him headslapped.
"What about mould sex?" he finally asked.
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