Title: Painted Up
Author/Artist: S J Smith
Fandom: NCIS
Characters: Abby, Tim
Disclaimer: Do I look like Bellasario? I thought not.
Summary/Teaser: Abby considered the enamel she'd painstakingly applied last night….
Rating: K
Word Count: 402

Abby could almost hear the confusion in Tim's voice as he found her shoes sitting next to the doorway of the lab. "Abby, what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything, McGee." She pouted at her feet rather than toward Tim. Wriggling her toes, Abby considered the enamel she'd painstakingly applied last night. The paint must have been old – no wonder it had been marked down from twenty dollars to five – but still, she should've gotten at least one good shellacking of her toenails out of it!

"Then why are your shoes at the door? And," Abby heard Tim step sideways carefully, "your Oogy Boogy socks next to your mass spectrometer?"

"Isn't this the worst thing you've ever seen?" Elbows on her knees, chin cupped in her hands, Abby rolled her eyes up at Tim.

"Uh…" Tim opened his mouth and closed it again. "Gibbs sent me down here for the reports."

Her lower lip pooched out even more.

"With this?" From where it had been hidden at his side, Tim produced a Caf-Pow.

Abby considered whether a Caf-Pow was really worth giving up her sulk over her bad toenail polish.

"Oh, and splatter patterns." Tim smiled brilliantly, untucking a manilla folder from under his arm.

"Well…."

Tim wagged the Caf-Pow. "It's the new flavor," he singsonged.

Abby straightened abruptly, toes and enamel forgotten. "Chocolate Cherry Pop?"

His nod only the slightest bit exaggerated, Tim set the soda on the table along with the file. "Just to cheer you up."

Hopping off her stool, Abby snatched up the cup with all its sugar and caffeinated goodness. "Well, McGee, you're sure doing a good job." She flipped open the file, spreading the photographic evidence out on the table, the picked up the disc that went with it. "Hmmm…I'm gonna need a little time."

The sound of her doors whooshing open barely distracted her, though Tim's call of, "Gibbs gave you sixty minutes," jerked Abby's head up.

"But that's not enough time!" And wasn't that just like a man, to leave without offering to help? Well, Abby thought, at least she had her Caf-Pow. She'd get through with this. Wriggling her toes on the cold floor, Abby sipped at her drink. And, after she was done with her splatter analysis, she'd take that enamel back to the store and get her money back. No way was some nail polish getting the better of her.