Notes: Written for the "What are you doing New Year's Eve?" Challenge on NFA. McGee-centered, of course. Since the challenge was created by ChannelD, this story is posted in her memory.
Tim flung his apartment door open and charged in. Abby was at his heels.
"I can't believe I let you talk me into going to that party, Abby!" he shouted, pulling off his suit jacket.
"I'm sorry, Tim! I had no idea that would happen!" She slid her coat off, revealing the form fitting black dress she'd chosen for the evening. "Can I at least look at your eye?"
"No. I just want to go to bed." Tim disappeared into the kitchen and returned with an ice pack pressed to his eye.
"It's not even midnight yet! We have to watch the ball drop!"
"I'm tired, Abby, and my face hurts from your new boyfriend's fist!"
"He isn't my boyfriend! He's just a friend!"
"A friend who has an unhealthy crush on you!"
"I've known Dixon for five years, and he's never hit on me before…" Abby said, falling into Tim's computer chair. Tim pulled up a kitchen chair and sat across from her.
"Abby, it was obvious to everyone at the party tonight. When he saw you come in with me, he made it a point to bother you all night. If I hadn't stepped in when he grabbed your arm by the punch bowl, who knows what would have happened to you."
"I never thanked you for defending me, did I?"
Tim shook his head, ice pack still firmly pressed to his right eye. Abby giggled at the sight. She leaned in and pecked him on the cheek.
"Thank you , Timmy. You were wonderful."
Tim smiled. He could never stay angry at Abby for long, especially when she kissed him. He looked at his watch.
"There's five minutes until the ball drops. Want to open up some champagne and watch it?"
"Absolutely," Abby said, grinning. Tim went into the kitchen and threw his homemade ice pack into the sink. He took the bottle of champagne he'd been saving out of the fridge, and got down two glasses from the top shelf of the cupboard. He brought it into the living room. Abby was already on the couch with the TV on. She gave him a 'come hither' look. He felt his heart flutter with excitement as he brought the champagne over to the couch. Abby took the glasses and he popped the cork. As he poured it, the crowd roared on TV as the Ball at Times Square prepared to drop.
"This is nice, Timmy," Abby said as Tim took his glass from her. They toasted and sipped it, as the countdown started on TV.
"Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One!"
As the crowd roared and "Auld Lang Syne" started to play on TV, the champagne on the coffee table was forgotten, as Tim and Abby passionately kissed.
"Happy New Year, Timmy," Abby said as they parted for a moment. She was sitting on top of him, arms wrapped around his neck. Tim pulled her down and kissed her again.
Happy New Year, Indeed.
The evening ended in Tim's bedroom, with Abby falling asleep in his arms.
Tim woke up alone the next morning. The aroma of breakfast brought him into the kitchen. Abby was cooking French toast. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.
"My Mom used to make that for us on Christmas and New Year's Day. It's my favorite. How'd you know?"
"What don't I know about you, Timmy?" He kissed a trail over her spider tattoo. "Okay, okay," she said, giggling. "I may have called your Mom this morning and asked her."
"What else did she tell you about me?" Tim asked, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Nothing embarrassing, I hope."
"She had lots of funny stories to tell," Abby said. She put two more pieces of French toast onto the plate next to the stove." Time to eat."
They sat at the small table and had French toast and coffee. Tim cleaned up after breakfast. Abby insisted on helping with the dishes.
"So what did my Mom tell you, Abbs?" Tim asked as he handed her a plate.
"After she told me all about your science fair projects and your pet rock," Abby started. She got a glare from Tim. "Okay, kidding."
"You're leaving something out. You've been bothered all morning."
"She asked me when you and I are going to get married, Tim."
"Oh." Tim dropped the dish rag into the water. "She knows we haven't really dated in years."
"Do you think we should?" Abby blurted out suddenly.
Tim turned to her, so he could look into her eyes. He wasn't sure if she was serious. Last night had been incredible, but he knew it was only one night.
"What would happen if we did? Would it end like it did the last time?" he asked. "I'm not a puppy, Abbs."
"I guess I've been feeling different since the bombing," she confessed, setting down the towel. She sat down at the table. "I found my real brother, and that's totally awesome, but I feel like I'm missing something else."
"You've had a few boyfriends since then."
"They're not you, Timmy. Sure, I've dated around, but you're the only man who's really respected me."
Tim found himself standing in front of her, leaning on the table.
"I don't know, Abbs. I care about you, sure, but it's been eight years since we had a relationship."
"How did you feel about last night, Tim?" she asked suddenly.
Tim kneeled in front of her and took her hands in his.
"Last night was incredible. It's always incredible with you, Abbs."
"What's the problem, then?"
"We can't base our entire relationship on amazing sex, Abby," Tim said with a chuckle.
"Can it be a factor?" She said, smiling seductively.
Tim smiled, squeezing her hands. He loved her something fierce. He just wanted to make sure she felt the same way. It was becoming clear to him that maybe she felt it too.
Suddenly Abby was out of her chair and on top of him, laying a lip-crushing kiss on him that nearly made him turn into jell-o. I guess that answers my question. He wrapped his arms around her and moaned into the kiss. They'd connected more from that kiss than ever before.
"Wow," he said as Abby pulled back, arms wrapped around his neck. "That was amazing."
"Know what would be even more amazing?"
Tim raised an eyebrow and smiled. She whispered something in his ear, and he perked up.
"Right here in the kitchen?" he asked.
"Afraid, Timmy?" she quipped.
"Never," he said, sliding his arms around her waist and lowering her to the kitchen floor.