Notes: no profit ever, not mine. Title and opening quote from the poem Wanted: death lament by Wendy C. Ortiz. Thanks to PB for beta help! All mistakes mine.
to have you tell me, privately, every single thing you have ever felt about me that you would never normally tell me because let me tell you, we're in a window when I can take it, and take it in, and I will never repeat it back to you and I will not reply but I am famished for honesty
to unzip this skin and walk out (again) - Wendy C. Ortiz
Marty looks over Kensi's shoulder as she scrolls on her tablet. "Are you looking at wedding dresses?"
She shrugs. "I am reading celebrity gossip and fashion critique which happens to also include pictures from the bridal fashion weeks." She lingers on two pictures.
She says, "I never got very far planning my wedding when I was engaged, but I did pick a dress. Thank god, the deposit was refundable, right?"
He feels like he's perched on the edge of a canyon, about to plummet to his death. He tries to keep it casual even though it's basically the third time in three years Kensi has ever willingly revealed anything about herself from ages 15 to 24. "I feel like I shouldn't disturb this miraculous white faun, but, uh, did your dress look like one of those?"
"Miraculous white faun?"
"Kens, you know, you know. You do not talk about that time in your life. I'm touched and slightly worried," he says.
She shakes her head. "You're weird. And no, my dress didn't look like any of these. These are super expensive Carolina Herrera. I didn't have that kind of money."
"So what did you pick?"
She smiles and scrolls on to the next entry on the blog. Some very very pale woman is wearing a very gross shade of orange. Kensi says, "I had seen pictures of my mom's wedding dress and you know, it was very, very dated. And also, my grandparents basically hid all the pictures of her and acted like she was evil so I didn't have fond feelings for that dress. I wanted something more me. More timeless. I was picturing walking down the aisle to meet my Marine in his dress uniform, you know?"
'Honestly, I have no idea since I have never seen a picture of your Marine. Was he tall? Taller than me?"
She leans back against his arm across her shoulders and looks at the ceiling. "I don't know. He was tall. Tall like you and Sam."
"Sam is taller than me," Marty says. He still feels like he's picking a lock and one wrong poke will set off a thousand alarms. He'll take suddenly sharing Kensi, but it is weird.
It was all very weird. It is weird. It was weird when Marty drove Kensi home after Callen was arrested. It was weird when she didn't get out of the car and waved him on. When she didn't get out until they reached his place. She followed him, sat on his couch, wound her fingers in Monty's hair while he panted his happiness.
He went to the kitchen thinking it was weird. He made her the healthiest thing in his refrigerator and cabinets because he thought healthy was best - no added sugar or alcohol to her discombobulated head. He made two bowls of blueberries in greek yogurt with cinnamon and liquid creamy almond butter topped with a pinch of vanilla salt he got at Whole Foods.
He remembers how good it tasted.
Kensi didn't touch hers which was, again, weird. He ate his and made yummy yummy sounds to entice her. She was starting at the wall, away from the TV she'd turned on to the 900th Law and Order SVU marathon.
He said, "Kensi, you gotta eat. We've got all this playacting to do tomorrow, you know, and I know you're not Method like me but -" He trailed off. Kensi covered her face with her hands.
That was incredibly weird. Kensi with naked emotion was like a blue moon or a red moon or possibly a comet. He pulled her into his arms and she didn't resist. It might be weird for Kensi, but people who asked for support should get it and that was what she was doing. She wasn't crying, she was shaking, she was trembling. He pulled her closer and let her move.
She twisted a little and leaned her head back. She was looking at him. He got ready to apologize. She reached, her hands on his jaw. She pulled and kissed him.
She totally kissed him first, just like her so called undercover kiss. He kissed her back of course, of course. Of course. The first time he'd met her, with her easily seen as fake name. He always thought about fucking her. The last few months it had definitely gotten, for lack of a better word, weird. He didn't just think about sex with Kensi, some blessed day, now he thought about after. How she'd laugh at him. Her damp hair long since out of her ubiquitous ponytail.
She pulled again so he was on top of her. He was hard like he was 15 again and it took nothing to get Big Marty to stand at attention. (Marty at 15 did not truck with the idea of calling his penis little or L'il or any diminutive. Marty at 33 still thought Big Marty but he never said something that stupid out loud.) She was grinding against him, her legs already wrapping around him.
She said, "condom," and he realized it was her first words since they left the Mission.
Then he said, "Yes. Yes, yeah. yup. Let me." He tried to be suave and rolled onto the floor with a thump. He tripped twice and fell once on his way to the bathroom. When he got back, she was lying on the couch, jeans on the floor with some very pink underwear. She still had her shirt on. It was weird. Then he got his head back on and pushed down his jeans and boxer-briefs in one motion. He tripped one more time.
She wanted him on top and so he was and he pushed into her like it was the best thing that had ever happened to him while he wore a black tee shirt or any shirt at all, basically. He heard himself repeating "you" over and over again and he realized he was trying to say "I want you" but clearly he only had enough brain for one syllable. She was happy, he was happy, he came first, she came louder.
It was not weird at all in the morning when she said, "It was great, but."
"Never again," he said, rolling his eyes behind her back.
"Good, you agree," she said, quickly.
"I know you," he said.
"What does that mean?"
"We have a tough day ahead of us, Kensi, let's worry about this later, when we have Callen and Hetty back."
Of course of course they didn't talk about it even when they both went off on their separate vacations.
When the plane landed from Dubai, Kensi said to him, "Drive me home."
He did not find it weird at that point when she pulled him into her apartment and had her way with him. Though he did find time to say, "Didn't you say my sword would never touch you? Cause I have touched you and you liked it and we just did this again."
She said, "Can we talk about this in the morning?"
They did talk in the morning. They resolved that it was no one's business but their own and they weren't telling anyone because their coworkers could be mega creepy and sometimes assholes.
Weirdly, it had been two months and they were still together and no one had said anything about them sleeping together and occasionally talking about their past like they were a serious couple or something. In private.
"Jack," Marty says with trepidation. "Taller than me, then. I'm just checking. And then we can get back to your wedding dress."
"I know if I wore five inch heels we were eye to eye," she says.
"You should, I'd love to see you in five inch heels more. Maybe tomorrow? You don't have to wear anything else. In fact, that's all I need you to wear."
"Only if you do, too." She rests her head on his shoulder.
"That would defeat the purpose of us being eye to eye but if you want, I will. You get to find heels that fit me and in the right color. But for you in heels and also naked, I would wear them. For a minute. Maybe two." He tugs at the collar of her shirt very lightly, hinting broadly she should take off her shirt and her bra and underwear and jeans.
She leans forward and takes off her tee shirt. He reaches out and unhooks her bra so she can just shrug and be topless. She laughs and says, "Now you get naked."
"My pleasure, believe me." After they were in bed and he slaps a condom on the pillow, he says, "But I really do want to hear all about your wedding dress."
She sits up and back, her legs spread. It's a better view than the Grand Canyon or a perfect swell on the beach at dawn. It's the definition of beautiful. She says, "It was pale purple, like pastel lavender, and tea length, so right below my knee and strapless and the bodice had a lace overlay and cute bow at the back."
"Beautiful," he says. "Thank you for telling me about it. That wasn't weird at all, right?"
"No," she says. "Nothing's weird with you. I don't get it."
"Try not to think too hard, especially right now. Right now, no thinking. Just being on top of me."
She rolls her eyes but she does, indeed, move on top of him.