Working Conditions - NCIS
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Mature Peeps!

Title: Working Conditions
Author: Ky (Venom_69)
Fandom: NCIS
Category: Smut-tish. Humor.
Pairing: Kate/Gibbs
Rating: Mature Peeps
Summary: Abby was going to kill him/her/them.
Archive: My site. Anywhere else, sure, just let me know where so I can come visit.
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, never will. Promise to put them back in the state I found them.
Author’s notes: For [info]followmyrainbow who asked for Kibbs and a coffee cup. Mucho Smoocho to [info]riverstar_aura for helping out. :)
Date: 17/04/06
Copyright to Venom, 2006


Abby was going to kill him/her/them.

She wasn’t exactly sure who the real culprit was, but she knew without a doubt that it was one of them. Or both.

And they were going to diiiiiie.


She may even have to get out her thermometer of pain.

It was that bad.

It’s not that she really minds her co-workers socially – or seriously – screwing each other, but did they have to do it on her Lab bench?

Geebus. A girl has one sick day and the place turns into a sex club. . .


That was kind of kinky.


Aside from the natural squick factor that came with thinking of them doing, well, that, Abby was damn sure that her mass-spectrometer would never recover. There was a little temptation to put some of the remaining bodily fluids into one of her analytical machines, but she didn’t want to know what floated Kate’s boat and she really didn’t want to know what the purple stuff was.

She couldn’t work under this kind of pressure.


“Gibbs. Didn’t I tell you not to sneak up on me?” She only jumped a little.

“You did. I didn’t listen.”

It’s tempting to argue with him, but the very large and very much needed cup of caffinated goodness in his hand stops her. “What do you want?”

“Made any progress on the evidence I gave you the other day?”

“I only just got in, Gibbs.”

“Late start?”

“I’ve been sick.” And the sneeze that follows her statement, while perfectly timed, only supports her statement. “Besides, the evidence is contaminated.”


Abby can see the steam about to seep from his ears and she rescues her cup before it’s too late. “Yup.”

“How did that happen?”

“Well, someone appears to have been. . . fornicating,” Shudder, “on my lab bench.”

Gibbs, ever perceptive as always, gets the hint. “Ah.”


“Abs. . . ”


“Kate and I. . . “

“Gah! I get it! She puts the boogie in your woogie! Can we please not go there?”

“She puts the what in my what?”


Men = thick.

In the bad way.

“Gibbs, you and Kate are bumping uglies. Doing the wild thing. Dancing the horizontal tango. Having hawt monkey sex. Putting your mouse in her house. Doing the limbo. Can you just not do it in my Lab?”

“Sorry, Abs.”

“So you should be! You’ve traumatized my equipment, ruined the evidence for the case, broken about a squillion rules, not to mention the fact that you did it in my Lab when you both have perfectly good beds. . .did you just say sorry?”


“Can you say it again?”



“One time performance, Abs.”

“I hope the monkey sex in my Lab was too.”


“Well. . . Good. Thank you.”

He kisses the side of her head. “You’re welcome.” And then he leaves.

Abby looks at the table – the scene of the crime. snerk. – and wonders if she should start scrubbing it clean or leaving it for the janitorial staff. Or call a furniture therapist.

“I can’t work under these conditions.”

She sighs to herself as she goes in search of the disinfectant and her black rubber gloves.