[NCIS: Drabble] "Traffic Jam" [Abby/McGee, G]
Title: Traffic Jam
Author: Ami Ven
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Abby Sciuto/Tim McGee
Genre: het.
Prompt: 24_times table three, prompt #17 ‘17:00’
Rating: G
Word Count: 200
Summary: Abby and McGee hit traffic on the way home.
Traffic Jam
Traffic on the highway came to a complete standstill, brake lights flaring all around them, and Abby brought the hearse to a sudden stop.
“Sorry,” she said, to her passenger.
McGee managed a smile through his wince and adjusted his arm in its sling. “That’s okay, Abs. It’s still better than riding with Gibbs. Or Ziva.”
“I’m sure they’d drive more carefully for you, Timmy.” Abby looked at the unmoving line of cars, and sighed. “I forgot about rush hour.”
“Me, too,” agreed McGee. They’d left for the crime scene at eight that morning and he’d dislocated his shoulder tackling their suspect at around one in the afternoon, followed by several hours of ‘observation’ in autopsy with Ducky to make sure that Gibbs had done a good job of re-locating it.
He had, but it still hurt.
“You know,” said Abby. “You could have gotten an office job, McGee. A suit and tie every day, a cubicle with your name on it, memos to read and budget meetings to go to, sitting in traffic like this every morning…”
McGee looked out at the lanes of cars, none of them moving an inch, and smiled again. “Not a chance,” he said.
THE END
Current Mood:
cold
Author: Ami Ven
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Abby Sciuto/Tim McGee
Genre: het.
Prompt: 24_times table three, prompt #17 ‘17:00’
Rating: G
Word Count: 200
Summary: Abby and McGee hit traffic on the way home.
Traffic Jam
Traffic on the highway came to a complete standstill, brake lights flaring all around them, and Abby brought the hearse to a sudden stop.
“Sorry,” she said, to her passenger.
McGee managed a smile through his wince and adjusted his arm in its sling. “That’s okay, Abs. It’s still better than riding with Gibbs. Or Ziva.”
“I’m sure they’d drive more carefully for you, Timmy.” Abby looked at the unmoving line of cars, and sighed. “I forgot about rush hour.”
“Me, too,” agreed McGee. They’d left for the crime scene at eight that morning and he’d dislocated his shoulder tackling their suspect at around one in the afternoon, followed by several hours of ‘observation’ in autopsy with Ducky to make sure that Gibbs had done a good job of re-locating it.
He had, but it still hurt.
“You know,” said Abby. “You could have gotten an office job, McGee. A suit and tie every day, a cubicle with your name on it, memos to read and budget meetings to go to, sitting in traffic like this every morning…”
McGee looked out at the lanes of cars, none of them moving an inch, and smiled again. “Not a chance,” he said.
THE END
Current Mood:
cold