"Don't do it."
Deeks' hand freezes on a particularly offensive looking tweed jacket. "Do what?"
"You know even if you destroy them all, she'll still find a way to make you look like a janitor."
He shakes his head and resumes flipping through the rack. "Like I don't know that. The woman is diabolical."
Kensi steps up beside him and watches as he stops to examine something brown and itchy-looking before continuing on his quest. "So, if you're not looking for the coveralls, what exactly are you doing in wardrobe? Hot date tonight?"
"Date, yes. Tonight, no."
"Oh."
He looks at her and grins. "Sunday."
"Oh, no, no, no." She puts her hand on his to stop him. "You can't."
"Come on, Kens. You think I have a cape at home?"
"You can't borrow from Hetty for a birthday party, Deeks. She'll kill you and make it look like an accident."
He looks at her hand and then meets her eyes and all she can think about is him pressing her into the mattress and the pressure, the heat of him between her thighs, and jesus, she's an idiot.
She takes her hand off his and puts it on her hip. No, that's awkward. She clasps it with her other hand. Also awkward. Man, what was she doing with it before she grabbed him? What is she supposed to do with it now? Why is she thinking this hard about it?
"It should count as an assignment," he says, mercifully oblivious to her struggle as he folds his arms across his chest. Damn. That's a good one. Why didn't she think of that? "Sam is making me go, after all."
She settles on playing with the cuff of a jacket that's on the rack beside her. "Well, that's your fault for making his daughter have a crush on you."
"I'll have you know that was not my intent. It was just an inevitable side effect of my excellent babysitting skills - which, by the way, you inflicted on her. So really this is all your fault."
"Uh huh."
"Which means," he says, eyes twinkling, "you should let me borrow your cape."
"My cape?" She laughs. "I don't have a cape."
"I don't believe that for a second."
"Why would I have a cape?"
He raises his eyebrows, tilting his head in that way that says you know exactly why.
Heat rises to her ears. "No."
"Not Supergirl? What costumes do you have, then? French maid? Princess Leia?" He's grinning, his line of thought painfully clear.
"You need to stop picturing me in costumes. Right now."
"I was not - okay, yes, I was, but in my defense, you looked really fantastic in my head. Nothing to be ashamed of there."
"Wonderful."
"I'm sure the real thing is much better though. Care to show me?"
"Not in this lifetime."
"The next, then?"
"If you manage not to come back as a slug, we'll talk about it."
"I've got my fingers crossed." He pulls a hanger off the rack and holds it up. "This one?"
She shakes her head. "That's a skirt, Deeks."
He frowns at it. "That's a lot of fabric."
"I'm sure this will come as a surprise to you, but not all skirts are designed to be worn while on stripper poles."
He puts it back on the rack. "No one wears skirts on stripper poles, Kensi. If you'd ever go with me, you'd know that."
"Not happening. The only exotic dancing I plan on seeing is going to be performed by you."
He smiles. "Oh, really? Kens, I had no idea you were so eager to get me undressed."
"No! Not like," she scratches the back of her neck. Her whole face is red, she's sure of it. "I didn't mean the full routine. I just wanted to see - you know what? Never mind. Let's forget I said anything."
"Yeah, that's not gonna happen. How about I show you a routine from my days in the business and you show me your favorite page from Kama Sutra? It'll be a trade-off."
"No."
"Quid pro quo. Tit for tat. Tits for tat?"
"Sometimes I think you're fourteen. Then you make jokes like that and I'm sure of it." She pauses. "Anyway. Costume for the party. Hey, speaking of bad jokes, Eric probably has something you can wear."
He cringes. "Yeah, no. I don't want to borrow anything Eric's been wearing for kinky-times, thanks."
"Not like that, Deeks. For the Ren Faires he goes to." She shakes her head. "God, you have such a filthy mind."
"Yeah, sure. I'm the one with the filthy mind. You're just the one that wants to take wrestling breaks in the middle of operations."
She ignores him. "We can drop by his place and then stop by In-N-Out for some dinner. I'm starving."
He sighs. "Tempting, but I'll have to pass."
"Come on. You can have a grilled cheese. They're greasy and delightful." She gives him her winningest grin and tugs him toward their desks. "I'll even let you order my Animal Style for me so you can try and make the cashier blush."
He laughs and follows. "Anything involving you and animal style does sound like a great time, but I'll still have to take a raincheck."
"I thought you said you don't have a date tonight."
"I don't," he assures her, grabbing his messenger bag, "but I have some LAPD paperwork I need to catch up on, plus I'm really tired. I think I'm going to crash early tonight."
"Without eating?" She snags her keys. "That's ridiculous. We can get drive-thru and then head to your place and walk Monty while we eat. Then you can get your precious beauty sleep."
"No, really, Kens. I'm good. Not even hungry. Plus all that -"
"Paperwork, right." She frowns. There's a look on his face she can't quite decipher and she suddenly feels embarrassed, like she's throwing herself at him and he's just side-stepping out of the way. "Well, I can pick up something for you from Eric. I was going to stop by there anyway."
"That'd be great. I'll be by on Sunday and we can go to Sam's together."
"Sunday, right." She's pretty sure they had casual plans for the beach on Saturday, but she must have been mistaken. "Well, I'm hungry, so. I'm going to..." she jerks her thumb toward the exit, "going to head out."
He nods. "Okay. Have a good night, Kens."
"Yeah. You too."
She walks out of the mission and toward her car. As she crosses the parking lot she thinks about all the times lately that he's turned her down. It almost feels like - she shakes her head. How is she supposed to figure out what he's thinking when he's talking about sexual positions and making excuses to get out of spending time with her in the same breath?
The signals she's been getting from him lately have been so mixed up they're making her dizzy. He pesters her incessantly about the box and then she gives it to him and he doesn't even open it. He cleans her desk and finds her W-2, but bows out of her offer of a thank-you dinner and a movie. He spends the evening helping her babysit Sam's kids, but instead of unwinding with drinks afterward, he asks her to take him straight home. Every other word out of his mouth is about making babies with her but getting him to actually spend an evening in her presence seems to be impossible.
She drops into the seat of her car and sighs. Why is this so hard? Why can't they just talk to each other? Why does she feel like the most important thing between them is everything that's unsaid? Why isn't there anything tangible?
Why is it that just when she's sure she knows how he feels, he pulls the rug right out from under her and she falls on her ass?
She slinks down in her seat as he comes out into the lot. He knows she's there, he has to know she's there - her car is one of a dozen left in the entire lot - but he doesn't acknowledge her. He just gets into the Malibu and drives away, tail lights disappearing into the distance.
She thinks about following him and seeing if he's really going straight home; if he's really going to spend the night alone in his bed. But then she remembers it's Deeks - her partner, her best friend. She trusts him. She doesn't necessarily trust that he always tells her the whole truth, but she trusts that if he's keeping something from her it's for a good reason.
She turns her key in the ignition and sighs, hoping the good reason isn't what she thinks it is.