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The couch appeared in her lab a month to the day after Kate had been killed.
***
Early in the morning on a rainy, dreary day that matched her mood, she stood, eyes wide, staring as droplets of water dripped from her raincoat and puddled around her feet. Abby approached it warily as she would any uninvited guest in her domain. The material of the cushions was a beautiful mixture of purple hues and with tentative fingers she reached out, pulling back suddenly
"Hmmmm." Arms crossed, she paced the length of the couch, pigtails bouncing in time with her footsteps.
The furniture remained silent under her scrutiny.
"Oh." She disappeared and returned with Bert who farted his greeting to the uncommunicative couch.
The couch didn't answer.
Gently, she placed the hippo on the couch. "Play nicely," Abby warned with a wag of her finger. "I'll be right back." She returned, sans raincoat and surveyed her old friend and new friend. "May I?"
Again, the couch didn't answer, and Abby, ever the optimist, took it as yes and slowly lowered her tush one cushion over from Bert. Unable to help herself, she snuggled down into the depths of the cushions. Wide-eyed, she turned to Bert. "Oh my, this is just—"
"Perfect?"
"Tony!" Abby launched herself and Tony, from years of practice, braced himself against her enthusiasm. "Bert and I got a couch—" Maneuvering away from him, she regarded her friend with narrowed eyes. "You knew?"
He smiled a smile that she hadn't seen since Kate's death. "I just felt the place needed some—" Green eyes gazed upward, searching for the word. "Comfort. Though," he said, stepping forward and tugging on one of her damp pigtails, "I don't want to see you using this magnificent piece of furniture as an excuse to spend the night. All work and no play makes Abby a very dull girl."
"As if," she snorted. "Wait a minute, how did you get the couch down into the lab."
He winked at her. "Same way Gibbs got his boat out of the basement."
***
Even though Tony had warned her, Abby had spent more than a few nights sleeping on the couch.
Then again, so had Tony, Tim, and she believed maybe Jimmy on an occasion or two. Ziva and she had shared the couch a number of times. Abby had caught Gibbs, sleeping sitting up, power napping, but would never confront him. Ducky eyed the couch affectionately, but he'd sworn he'd never so much as taken a nap on the cushions.
Eventually, things started showing up. A throw pillow. A handmade afghan. The couch wore them all with pride. When Vance took over as Director and had paid a visit to her lab, he'd sucked in his lips and for a second the ever present toothpick appeared then disappeared when his gaze settled on the recent addition of a handcrafted side table with an antique table top Tiffany lamp.
"Ms. Sciuto." The toothpick reappeared as he walked the length of the couch. "Don't you think this is going a bit overboard?"
"Director." She grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the couch. "Sit."
"Ms. Sciuto."
"Please." She tilted her head like Jethro (the dog, not the boss) did to get what he wanted.
With the resigned sigh of a man who was the parent of teenagers and knew when to pick his battles, he sat.
She smiled.
He smiled back.
Abby held in check her 'I told you so' smirk and turned on the lamp. The lamp light warmed the room in a way the overhead fluorescents would never be able to.
The next day an ostentatious "Property of NCIS" pillow appeared on the couch. There was no doubt in her mind who had given the couch a new gift.
***
She was exhausted but she didn't want to go home. It had been so close today. Every day when her family was out in the field, was dangerous, but she'd been stupid. Falling into a lull of successful, caught the bad guys in the end cases. The rug had been pulled out from under her complacency. "Bossman's going to be okay," she repeated slowly, dragging her feet. "O. K." Sniffing, she rubbed her eyes, mascara long gone. "Ducky wouldn't have told me to go home, right? He never would've insisted that Tim take Tony home, or Ziva. Or me. Right?" The only answer the elevator gave to her was a ding that her destination had been reached.
Surprisingly, the bullpen was empty. She didn't want it to be empty, she wanted business as usual, with lights and noise, ringing phones and voices. And people. Her people. Abby fought not to stamp her foot in frustration at the silence.
Pirouetting, she stomped her way back to the waiting elevator. "You could've warned me." Growling, she punched the number in for the lab.
****
There was no light in the outer office, but Abby didn't need light, there wasn't a square inch of this part of her life that she didn't know like the back of her hand. Her inner sanctum. Her safety. A womb-like comfort seemed to envelop her and for the first time since McGee had told her that Tony and Gibbs had a car accident while pursuing a suspect did she believe that all would again be right in her world.
The Tiffany lamp was a beacon in the darkness but the glow also illuminated something else, bringing her up short. Shadows. Two familiar outlines.
Tony was lying on the couch, on his side and for the hundredth time in the past hours her vision was blurred because of the bruises she knew Tony wore under his clothes.
“Go home, son,” Ducky had demanded of Tony with gruff tenderness. “Before I have you admitted to the hospital as well as Jethro.” And now, she remembered, how Tim had practically dragged Tony from the boss' bedside. Not home. Here. Their home away from home.
The second shadow was scrunched sideways, his ass pressed against the flat plane of Tony's abdomen. Tim's hand gently swept the uncharacteristically mussed hair from Tony's forehead. Leaning in, he placed a kiss to the exposed forehead.
"Oh." And the scientist, with that simple gesture, connected the dots and understood. She tip toed to Tim's side, a soft touch to his shoulder announcing her presence.
Tim shot up and spun around. "Abby!"
"Shush, you'll wake Tony."
"Tony?" Furtively, he glanced over his shoulder as if he'd forgotten the other man's presence.
Hands on her hips, she smirked knowingly at him. "Yes, Tim, Tony. You know the man—" She whispered conspiratorially, "the one you kissed."
Even in the dim lamp light, there was no mistaking the blush traveling up Tim's pale face.
"Yes, Tim. Tony. The injured, unconscious man that you took advantage of and kissed."
He waved his hand, shushing her.
"Oh, it's a secret. Sorry," she apologized. "Tony doesn't know that you have a man crush?"
"A man crush?"
Damn, he was so cute when he was confused. "Yes, Tim. Man crush. You. Tony."
"Ah, no man crush." He cringed at the words, as if they were distasteful.
"Then—" she stepped into his personal space, latching onto his elbow. "Spill, McGee," she ordered.
"Not a man crush," he repeated.
"You said that already."
The blush deepened, the MIT graduate at a loss for words.
"You are not fuck buddies, are you, McGee, because that is just so—"
"Eww, Abby. No we're no fu—that thing." He held up his hand, quieting her. "And we're not friends with benefits. We're… Me and Tony. We're partners," he answered smugly, crossing his arms protectively over his chest.
"Duh, I knew that. Like you and Ziva are partners. Like Ziva and Tony are partners."
"No! Not that type of partners. We're partners as in, you know, partners."
"Lovers," she shouted triumphantly, clapping her hand over her mouth when Tony stirred.
"Happy, now?" Tim's shoulders were slumped with the weight of the world. "You weren't supposed to know." Defeated, he scrubbed at his face. "Tony's gonna kill me."
***
Tony snored, a spot of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth. Tim covered him with the afghan then slowly slid to the floor, his back supported by the front of the couch.
Abby adjusted the blanket, then dropped down next to Tim. She looped her arm around his elbow and pulled herself even closer. "He's not going to be mad."
"I was so afraid when I got that phone call, that something—" his Adam's apple bobbed with smothered emotion. "Really bad. Badder than what—I thought he was dead."
"He's going to be okay. Gibbs is going to be okay." Like a happy puppy, she wiggled her body. "You guys are like superheroes."
"No. We're not. We're human." He sniffed. "And humans—"
She clapped a hand over his mouth. "Do not tempt fate Timothy McGee."
He nodded and she used her thumb to wipe away the moisture pooling in the corner of the eye closest to her. "He's not going to be mad," she reiterated softly. "I know Tony. He won't be mad. He loves you."
Tim snorted.
"What's so funny?" She punched him lightly on the arm. "Share," she demanded when he hesitated.
"Tony's not going to be mad because I told you. Actually, we both thought you sorta had guessed already."
"Really? I hadn't a clue."
"And you call yourself a scientist," Tim chuffed.
This time she didn't hold back the punch to his arm.
"Ow! That hurt!" he pouted, rubbing the spot.
"You deserve that, McGee."
He slipped an arm around her shoulder and hugged her close. "You're right. That was mean. You don't deserve mean."
"No, I don't." She rested her head on his shoulder. "Apology accepted."
"Thank you."
"Still didn't explain why Tony was going to be mad at you."
"I slipped him some strong meds, as requested… ummmm, demanded by Ducky, so he'd relax a bit."
"He's drooling and snoring, I'm guessing he's more than just relaxed." She intertwined their fingers and gave a supportive squeeze. "He's going to kill you when he wakes up."
***
Tim's head dropped heavily onto her shoulder, his soft chuffing tickling her ear. Tony's hand slithered out from the blanket and rested on Tim's left shoulder. " 'k?" he asked groggily, slurring the short, one syllable word.
"Everything's fine, Tony, go back to sleep." She held her breath and counted until Tony's own breathing fell into perfect rhythm with Tim's. And for the first time since the furniture had appeared in her lab all those years ago, Abby knew why Tony had made this choice. The couch had entered her life for the same reason Tony had brought it to NCIS. A touch of comfort in their sometimes not so comfortable world.
The end