A/N: A huge thank you to my best friend, who took the time to edit this before I published it. She's awesome.

The bakery I mention here is real, and yes, it's Pauley Perrette's bakery. I feel like there's often a lot of crossover between Pauley and Abby- the locket and the picture that Abby had of her mother during 9.04 "Enemy on the Hill" was really a picture of Pauley's deceased mom. That's why I mention it in this chapter.

And yes, her red velvet cupcakes are to die for ;)

The drive to Abby's apartment was a hundred times longer than he remembered, mostly because his mind was running in circles and colliding with itself now that he had time to really think about what was going to happen. On multiple occasions, he nearly convinced himself that he was being reckless and turned around, desperate to retreat to the safety and simplicity of his typewriter. But something inside of him didn't allow him to back down, and after an eternity behind the steering wheel, he arrived at Abby's apartment building.

He saw a shadow lurking outside the entrance, and given that the shadow had pigtails, he concluded that Abby had waited for him. He turned his car off and pulled the keys from the ignition, hesitating for a moment before getting out of the car and approaching her. She gave him the same smug smile she'd given him earlier before she opened the door and entered her building, without looking behind her and without saying a word. McGee summoned whatever courage he had and followed her, certain she could hear that his heartbeat was echoing off of the stairwell all the way up to her floor.

She still hadn't spoken, he realized, as he watched her unlock her door and pull it open. And that was the moment she chose to turn and look at him, make sure he was still behind her and still with her, and he licked his lips, deciding whether to break the silence. But she must have found his nerves incredibly endearing because she broke into a full grin and held the door of her apartment open, allowing him to enter first. Again he hesitated, for only a split second, realizing that he was literally and metaphorically standing at the threshold, the point of no return. But he locked eyes with her and read something in her smile that reassured him, told him to take the step inside. So he did.

She closed the door behind them and dropped her purse, unzipping her platform boots and pulling them off of her legs. She shrugged her jacket off, draping it over the back of the couch, and he did the same, kicking off his shoes as he did so.

"Do you want a drink?" she asked, unsnapping her leather studded bracelets off of her wrists. He shook his head in a wordless reply, watching her silently.

She shrugged. "Okay. " She then turned and made her way toward her bedroom, toward the coffin he hadn't slept in in ages. He followed her, his legs feeling slightly weak. Once he reached her bedroom, everything happened in a split second.

He was aware of the door closing and then he was pushed back against it, her nimble frame pinning his body against the wood. Her lips were on his in a fevered kiss and his hands immediately framed her face. He was surprised by how much of a relief it was to kiss Abby after all of this time. He may have even whimpered into her mouth.

It was when her hands moved to the front of his shirt and they broke for air that he finally found the words he'd been searching for throughout this surreal experience. "Shouldn't we, you know… talk about this?" he panted, surprised at how quickly she'd been able to deal with the long row of buttons. She ran her hands up his bare chest, momentarily distracted, and he shuddered at the simple touch. He wasn't sure she'd even heard his question and was about to repeat it when she finally spoke.

"What is there to talk about?" she murmured softly, and he met her eyes then, holding her gaze as he took in what she'd just said. Well, most importantly, there was the factor that we are about to have sex, consciously, for the first time in years, he thought, and he was about to vocalize something along those lines (although maybe not verbatim) when she smiled gently at him.

"Tim, it's just me," she said quietly, her hands traveling up his torso again and caressing the taut muscle where his neck met his shoulder. And yeah, those were the words that dug deep, got under his skin and made his heart stutter. He took in the beautiful woman before him, slightly out of breath, pigtails now askew, dark lipstick smudged around her mouth, and realized that she felt like home to him.

And that was it—the moment that he abandoned his fears and his last rational thoughts of consequences fled. He crashed into her, bringing her mouth back to his with a small gasp, and he could feel her smiling as she peeled off his shirt, kissing him back with equal passion.

In one swift motion, he scooped her up and carried her to the bed (well, coffin). He gently lay her down before climbing onto the mattress beside her, and she was grinning at him. "What?" he said, suddenly self-conscious.

"I didn't know you were so chivalrous, McGee," she said, threading her fingers through his belt loops and pulling him down on top of her. He settled himself between her legs and her eyes raked his half-naked body.

"When did you get to be so bony?" she muttered, and he shrugged. He knew he'd lost weight over the past several years, but he'd forgotten she was the only person who knew what he'd looked like before, without his clothes on. Again, he was seized by a bout of insecurity, but before he could speak, she saw it written on his face and pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him.

"You have always been sexy to me," she reassured him, and relief washed over him.

His fingers traveled from her face into her hair, where he gently worked to remove the bands that held her ebony hair in two high pigtails. He successfully loosened one and moved to the other while turning his attention to her neck, sucking on the hollow of her collarbone. "I like your hair down," he mumbled into her skin as the second elastic was freed and flung somewhere over his shoulder, and he ran his fingers through her dark hair. She squirmed underneath him and her nails dug into his neck and that was when he was reminded that she was still fully clothed.

He grasped the hem of her tee shirt and pulled it up over her head, tossing it away carelessly. The bra she'd apparently chosen for the day was made of flimsy black lace that did very little to contain her. As she pulled her skirt down over her hips and threw it somewhere alongside her shirt, he discovered she was wearing matching underwear, and he was fairly certain he'd never been so aroused at the mere sight of a woman in her underwear. He'd never found lace particularly sexy on women, but lace on Abby was a different story. It was so very her.

He decided to savor the moment, enjoy the feeling of Abby writhing underneath him wearing almost nothing, her pale skin adorned with the tattoos he'd always had such a weakness for. His eyes roamed, memorizing every curve, and when she tried to halt the process and kiss him, he gently pinned her wrists beside her head.

"Timmy!" she whined, trying to grind herself against him and dissuade him from taking things slow.

He kissed her nose and looked into her eyes. "You've gotten some new tattoos," he said, and now (finally!) it was her turn to blush, but her protests quieted and she allowed him to examine her fully, taking in the gorgeous sight of her nearly naked body.

He began at her spider web tattoo, peppering kisses from the skin under her ear to the hollow of her neck. He skipped over the expanse of her chest—there would be plenty of time for that later—to the most recent tattoo, one he hadn't seen before. It was a small cupcake on her ribcage, just below the lace of her bra on her left side. He looked up at her and quirked an eyebrow, curious as to what the explanation could possibly be. She gave him a small smile.

"My mom owned a bakery in New York," she said, her voice sounding young as she remembered. "'Donna Bell's bakery'. I sold it to my cousin when I decided to move to D.C. for NCIS, but it's close to my heart."

This was a side of the forensic scientist that the team rarely saw, the sentimental Abby who'd lost so much at such a young age. McGee had no words to soothe the ache in her, so he kissed the cupcake tenderly, running his thumb over the small black lines on her side. Abby sighed, her eyes closing, apparently content.

"She would've liked you," she said.

McGee climbed back up her body and pressed his face into her neck to conceal his smile. That might've been one of the nicest things Abby had ever said to him. "Yeah?" he asked, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were sparkling with the thought of McGee encountering her mother.

Abby nodded, weaving her fingers into his hair. "I want to take you to her bakery sometime," she stated simply. "Her recipe for red velvet cupcakes is divine."

"In New York?" McGee asked, surprised. She nodded enthusiastically, and drew in a breath to elaborate but she never got the chance because he reclaimed her mouth, kissing her fervently.

He had to kiss her then, had to prevent his emotions from forming coherent thoughts and consequent words that may scare her away. She sucked on his bottom lip and he opened his mouth, complying and allowing her entrance. They fell into the same dance that had served them so well all those years ago. She tasted so distinctly like Caf-Pow and cinnamon and Abby.

As their kiss grew heated, his hands moved to her back and he unclasped her bra. Without breaking their kiss, she sat up and allowed him to slide the black straps down her arms. The lacy garment was tossed aside, joining the rest of their clothes somewhere on the floor.

Abby must've decided it was her turn, because she rolled them over and straddled him. Her breasts lightly skimmed his chest as her tongue darted out and flicked across the sensitive skin below his ear. Her teeth grazed his earlobe. "Why are you still wearing pants?" she whispered, her voice husky, and to be honest, McGee had no logical answer to that question.

Apparently, though, she hadn't been looking for an answer, because through the haze of mind-numbing lust, he noted that her hands were working on his belt as she continued her sensual assault on his neck. Before he could even truly understand what was happening, his belt was gone and Abby was crouched on her hands and knees, hovering above him. Her hot breath against the skin of his stomach made his skin tighten and her fingers undid the button that fastened his pants. He glanced down and the sight of her made his breath hitch in his throat. Her dark hair was spread across her shoulders and back, the tips barely touching her nipples. Slowly, tantalizingly, she leaned down, pressing a kiss to the skin above his pants. Then she gripped his zipper in her teeth, pulling it down tooth by tooth. McGee groaned—she was trying to kill him—and she slowed down even more, beaming from ear to ear.

"Abby," he breathed, and she sat up again, meeting his eyes with a devilish grin as she grabbed the legs of his pants and began to pull them down his body.

"Yes?" answered, feigning innocence as she threw his pants on the floor. She leaned forward, resting one hand on his chest. The other hand slipped underneath the elastic of his boxers, and she raked her nails in a horizontal line across the skin below his belly button. He sucked in his breath, closing his eyes, his hands flying to her shoulders and squeezing her.

"What is it, McGee?" she questioned. The fake-angelic tone in her voice made him open his eyes, and he found that her face was carefully and purposefully blank as she awaited his reaction.

"You," he confessed, his voice rough with unmasked adoration. She heard it, heard the emotions that lingered beneath the surface in his reply, and she couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. She crawled back up his body, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses that scorched his skin. Gently, she peeled his boxers off of him, leaving him completely naked.

He wrapped his arms around her and flipped them over again. She bucked against him, the lace of her underwear scraping against his cock, and he moaned into her neck before he could stop himself. His hand wandered between her thighs and he almost groaned again when he felt heat radiating from her before he'd even touched her.

Over her underwear, he pressed his fingers against her, rubbing slowly, and the friction of the lace combined with the how slowly he was stroking her was enough to drive her insane. A noise akin to a whimper in the back of her throat made him chuckle, and she bit down on his earlobe.

"If you don't take those off right now, McGee…" she threatened, trailing off, implying she'd have a multitude of ways to torture him later.

He obeyed her command, removing the last of her clothing and running his hands down her sides, pulling her body flush up against his. The tip of his cock brushed against her folds and they both gasped softly. It was very clear that this was not going to be drawn out.

He cradled her face in his hands, forcing her eyes to meet his. She smiled at him, a smile that that melted his heart, and it was all the reassurance he needed. He knew they could hold off no longer, and he thrust himself inside her at last. Even though it had been years since he'd been close to Abby like this, in that moment it felt like he'd never left.

She drew a shuddering breath and tightened her grip around his neck, holding him close. He rubbed his face into her neck and gave her time to adjust to him, but she didn't possess his patience, squirming against him as an indication for him to move. He did, pulling out before thrusting back in, and her eyes fluttered shut as he filled her completely.

He continued to move, finding a rhythm that suited them both. She wrapped her legs around him, digging her heels into his calves with such ferocity that it was almost painful, but he didn't care. He recaptured her mouth in a drugging kiss, and his head spun with disbelief that after all this time, Abby was finally in his arms again. The thought of it alone made him grip her tighter, expecting to wake up any moment and discover it had all been a hot dream. But he didn't, and this was too real to be a dream. She was everywhere—underneath him, her arms around his neck, her heady scent permeating the room, her tongue dancing with his.

Their tempo sped up as they both neared release, and his hand snaked down between them to press his thumb to her clitoris. She gasped into his mouth as she tumbled into ecstasy, and he came a breath behind her. They rode the waves together, clinging to each other, their labored breaths mingling.

He collapsed on top of her, spent and completely satiated. She opened her eyes and gazed up at him, and for a heartbeat he worried her was crushing her, but when he tried to roll off of her, she squeezed her thighs and kept him right where he was. Her hair was splayed across her pillow, a sheen of sweat covered her shoulders, and her eyelids heavy with the same exhaustion he now faced. Maybe it was chauvinistic, but he swore he'd never seen anything so beautiful in his whole life.

He trailed his hands up and down her sides, feeling her muscles jump slightly underneath his touch, and he kissed her forehead. He felt her falling asleep under him, and this time she allowed him to move. She didn't let him go far, though, quickly curling into his chest, tangling her legs with his. He breathed a contented sigh. He felt sleep lingering nearby, waiting to claim him, but he wanted to hold off for as long as possible and commit the moment to memory.

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"I really do want to take you to my mom's bakery, if you'll come."

He closed his eyes and fought back all of the emotions that seized the pit of his stomach. "I'd like that, Abby," he said, and she smiled against his skin, her eyelids fluttering shut. Their breaths slowly became even, and as they fell asleep in each others' arms, McGee knew that taking the risk had been utterly worth it.

His last thought before he drifted into a peaceful slumber was that he couldn't wait to try one of those red velvet cupcakes.

xXxXx