A/N: So I thought this was a one-shot, but apparently my brain had a different idea. Enjoy Abby's POV on the move to Vegas.
She'd needed a change. Not that there was anything wrong with NCIS or DC or the nuns, but she needed a change. She was always getting very generous offers from private sector companies, but that wasn't what she wanted to do. Puzzles were much more fun if they helped people, which meant she needed to stay in the public sector. The job announcement for a Las Vegas lab technician had seemed a perfect opportunity to do that and make a change. Plus, Vegas was awesome.
Gibbs hadn't liked it, DiNozzo had liked it less, and McGee had given her the most heinous case of puppy eyes for weeks about it even though they were not even remotely involved anymore. Kate was the only one who'd really understood what she was doing and why, probably because Kate had changed agencies too. Okay, it hadn't exactly been by choice, but she'd done it, and it had worked out well for her. So now, Abby was in Las Vegas, temporarily living out of a soulless extended-stay hotel and working at a lab full of characters, which made her feel right at home.
Warrick had an amazing knowledge of jazz to go with his amazing green eyes, which meant they'd spent a long boring nothing-happening shift arguing the merits of New Orleans jazz versus Kansas City jazz. Sara was pretty much the best of all the CSIs, and there was some serious unspoken stuff going on with her and Grissom. Abby had learned really fast to pretend that she (along with the rest of the lab) didn't see it since neither person was even acknowledging the possibility of stuff, unspoken or otherwise. Catherine was a great mom and knew the best places to find deals in the slightly price-inflated universe that was Vegas. And of course, Nick was the kind of smart, gentlemanly Southern guy she'd always enjoyed knowing.
Greg was probably her favorite so far, though, and not just because he'd been the one to show her around the lab and introduce her to Waffle World, which was just enough like Waffle House to make her feel at home and also make her miss the South but in a good way. He was cute and quirky and smart and had great but also awful taste in music. When she'd called Kate to catch up, she'd found herself talking about Greg the most somehow, which of course had earned her some major teasing, but how could she help it? He was her main contact in the lab since he did both bench and field stuff, which meant she spent a lot of time with him. Quality time, but not the kind that Kate had thought it was. Unfortunately.
Thinking about Greg was not going to help her get this analysis done, though, and she slurped down a little more Caf-Pow, then turned the music up a little louder. She was working the swing shift this week and there was this great concert tonight that she totally had to go to. How often did Android Lust make it to Vegas, and even better, how often was it a double-bill with Suicide Commando? She could not miss this concert.
"Whoa, Abs, you're gonna blow the speakers," Greg mock-whined as he came in and turned the music down, but she just shrugged at him.
"It's not like you can listen to Daft Punk quietly, y'know," she argued as she worked smoothly.
"Okay, I'll give you that, but there's listening to things at the right volume and there's ruining the stereo I just bought," he pointed out, sorting evidence into piles for everyone to start working with. If it wasn't analyzed in the right order, it wouldn't be as useful and might actually get destroyed.
"I'll buy you another one," she offered, and she would, as he knew. It would only be fair.
"I might take you up on that," he replied absently.
The lab was quiet for the next couple of minutes, or at least as quiet as it could be given the music choice, and she'd almost forgotten Greg was there when he cleared his throat a little ostentatiously, which made her glance up from the microscope.
"I, uh, I heard there was a concert tonight," he started nervously.
"Oh, yeah, there is," she chirped. "Android Lust and Suicide Commando at the Good Death. You wanna come with me? I promise not to keep my hands to myself."
His eyes pretty much bugged out of his head when she made that offer, but she meant it. Greg in club gear, goth or otherwise, was a delectable thought. He stammered for a second, then grinned at her in a way that made her sure there would definitely be something to delect.
"It's a date. Pick you up at 9?" he offered, and she dropped a little mock-curtsey in her schoolgirl plaid skirt.
"Nine sounds good. See you then," she agreed, and turned her attention back to her evidence as he nearly strutted out of the lab to drop his evidence off with everyone else.
Oh, yeah. Vegas was awesome.