I heard firecrackers popping next door
Wondered what it is I bargained for
When I lay quiet on the floor and you were knocking
Kensi wakes up at 3 am and immediately looks at her phone. She has three texts. All from Deeks, from 1 am, 1:39 am and finally 2:24 am. "So they did actually go out," she mumbles. If Hetty let them stay in those tuxedos, she would bet Deeks got laid. He looked that good even if she would never tell him. She hopes these aren't pictures texts. From his bed. He wouldn't do that. She's pretty sure.
No pictures, just drunk texts. you should come out with us jazz is playing sam is grooving callen is not allowed to move
if you show up in the next thirty minutes i will buy you a very expensive drink with a ho ho on top
heading home girlie you have to come next time kensi i am not kidding all callen and sam do is make fun of me which is amusing but if you don't help them it's not really as much fun
She turns on her side, the phone tucked under her hand.
In the morning, the guys aren't even hungover. "So you didn't have any real fun," Kensi says.
"Saying things like that makes me worry about your alcohol consumption," Sam says.
"I was not the one who was out at a bar last night," she says.
Deeks says, "Did you have a beer in your bath with your ice cream?"
"I did not," she says.
'The most surprising part of last night was that Deeks knows a place to listen to good music that is not a complete dive full of losers," Sam says. He looks suspicious anyway.
"But we had fun, yeah?" Deeks grins. "You admitted you were enjoying the music and the company and you had only had one shot."
"I was under duress," Sam says, laughing.
Kensi says, "What magical place is this?"
"I'll take you tonight," Deeks says.
"You won't like it," Sam says. "It's not Kensi music."
Kensi says, "And now I'm going just because you said that. All your fault, Sam."
Deeks makes a face and she smiles at him. There's a slight chance she won't hate it.
She gets home from a dull day. She is going to change for the bar. Deeks was going to take them there when they were wearing their tuxes so she assumes she can't get away with club gear. She smiles at herself in the mirror. Once a month she's willing to admit to herself she can get away with a lot of things, she is just that hot.
She slips on her grey backless dress and high heeled sandals. She brings a denim jacket in case she needs to be more casual. She think she should just put the jacket on because no way Deeks won't be in battered jeans and probably one of his five million plaid button downs. Maybe she won't have to sit next to him.
He looks better than she expects. He isn't wearing plaid or jeans. "There isn't a bouncer, but if there was, you would not be waiting in any line."
"Thank you for the implied compliment." She smiles and gets in his car.
"Do you want to state it outright? I can totally do that. You never struck me as that vain before, needy, looking for compliments -"
"Fuck you," she says. "I'm not vain or needy."
"No, you are not. I apologize." He reaches over and slowly lowers his hand to pat her bare knee. He gives her enough time to brush him off and she does, with an extra push.
The club is nice, staid. She's a little bored after her drink. Deeks says, "Wait for the music."
The singer and her backing band are really far from what Kensi defines as good music to work out, drive, dance to. But it's quiet and sad and she feels it in her chest. She sways a little and closes her eyes. Deeks brushes her forearm and she feels that lower than her chest. She opens her eyes.
He says, "It's a different band than last night, but they always have great ones. Right?"
"Please don't take too much pleasure in telling Sam he was wrong."
"I absolutely will do exactly that," Deeks says.
She thinks about Jack, the stupid awful ass she dated after Jack and Dom. Mostly, she thinks about Jack in that sad slow music way.
Their hands are touching as they sit there.
Standing by her apartment door, Kensi says, "Now to be fair, you have to come to a club I like."
"How is that fair? I hear enough of that music every day in the car. And this was not my music. Sam is the jazz guy, I'm more no depression, folk, americana guy." He smiles and looks her up and down. "But you want me to come out with you to dance all sexy, who am I to argue?"
"Shut up," she says. "I have my own pepper spray, you know."
He winces. "That is mean. That is beneath you, Kensi." He gets in his car and waves to her as he pulls out.
It's another dull day but at least this time Kensi is eager as she gets ready to go out. Deeks shows up in his tightest jeans and a black button down. She schools her face not to show her lust.
The dj is slamming and Kensi is moving. She doesn't think of Jack or anyone. She doesn't lose track of Deeks because she was never looking out for him.
Someone puts their hands around her waist and in the split second before she elbows him in the gut, she recognizes the smell of him. Deeks says, "Sorry to make you pause, Miss Jackson if I'm nasty, but I was going to get you a drink and didn't know what you wanted."
"And you had to tell me by groping me?" She turns around and he does not let go of her. So she's pressed against him, heart still pounding, his hands clasped at her lower back. She actually likes his smell, at least tonight.
"This is not groping," he says. "This is slow dancing." He sways slightly, smirking at her.
"No one slow dances here," Kensi says.
"Except for that couple and that one and those two." He squints over her shoulder. "I take that back, I think two of them are actually engaging in sexual intercourse right here. Maybe three of them. Wow."
"I want something green," she says.
"That's your drink order? Really?"
"Yup," she says. She wiggles out of his arms. "See you in two songs, have it at a table."
"So ten, fifteen minutes, then? Okay," he says. She turns and doesn't look for him again.
She gets tired after four or five songs and drifts to the bathroom and then finds Deeks. He is waiting at table with a very green drink. "Actually, that was about forty minutes," he says. He doesn't sound that annoyed.
She sips her drink which is shockingly strong. She starts drinking it down. "Did you even dance?"
"I danced with you," he says. "And yes, I did dance."
"Sorry I missed it," she says. She kinda means it.
They get to their cars and she says, "You should drive me home."
"I was about to say." They take his car.
Outside her door, he says, "This means tomorrow we have to go my choice, my actual music."
"I am not so good at line dancing," she says.
He smiles and looks down. She wishes he had kissed her. She suppresses the thought immediately.
When she walks into the bullpen, Deeks is talking. "And I am not kidding, they were having sex."
"Right there," Callen says.
"His pants were open, her skirt was up," Deeks says. He smiles at her and turns towards Callen, pumping his pen.
Sam says, "Put that pen down, Deeks, we all know what you think sex is like."
Deeks puts the pen down. He smiles. He says, "Come on, that pen has nothing on me."
"And we're stopping now," Kensi says. "He's right, though, at least one of those couples really did have sex out there. It was gross."
It's another dull day. "I don't miss getting shot at," Deeks says. "But it's a little weird, right?"
"It happens all the time," Kensi says. "I already picked up my car, do you want me to drive tonight?"
"So this whole going out every single night, that's gonna happen all the time?" Deeks has a weird smile. She actually like his big white teeth smile, but this one is just different. She think it's indecisive.
"When things are dull, maybe," she says. Now the smile is happy. "Let's see how this week goes."
"Okay, I'll let you drive," he says.
She doesn't bother to change after work. She looks in the mirror. Today is not one of the days when she acknowledges she is pretty hot, today she feels kinda meh.
Deeks changed clothes. New shirt, flip flops instead of his boots. He smiles at her like she's gorgeous which is nice. His feet look like he gets pedicures. She rolls her eyes thinking about it.
The bar is more of a bar/pub. They sit at a table on the edge of a tiny dance floor in front of a tiny stage. Deeks says, "This guy is not my favorite but he does do some very fine Loggins and Messina covers."
She just stares. He is so weird.
The guy performing looks like he's barely 20 and he has two other teenagers playing bass and a violin. It's actually very pretty even if it really wasn't up her alley. Some people even get up close by the stage and sway like they're dancing. She's tempted. She looks at Deeks, he's singing along under his breath, drinking it all in. She lets him see her smiling.
"You know what might be a good idea?" She drops him off at his apartment, he's standing twenty feet away and she says it anyway. "Maybe it would be a good idea, like, sex. Just sex." He smiles like he heard her which he definitely didn't. But she parks her car and gets out.
"I was just thinking," she says.
"You wish you'd changed after work," he says.
"No," she says. "Not at all. And now I'm reconsidering my thinking."
"No, no, sorry. I want to hear what you're thinking. Please tell me what you were thinking. And still thinking." He's just this lanky muscled coiled attractive irritating person.
"Okay," she says. "I was thinking maybe as partners, we could just, you know, no strings attached -"
"Oh my god, are you saying we should have sex?" He looks genuinely surprised.
"You don't want to?" She can't believe he wouldn't want to.
"Oh my god, yes yes. And also yes. I didn't really think you'd bring it up but hey, let's go inside and talk about this more." He fumbles the door open. "Hey, Monty."
That was addressed to his dog. She wonders if she misheard, is the dog maybe named Mutty? Because that would be apt.
"So I want to do this, and you want to do this, any history of STDs?" With the door closed, she takes off her shirt.
He stares at her bra. "This is happening. Okay. No, nope, no STDs. Last tested, right, right last month. And you?"
She unzips her jeans and pushes them down. She says, "Same. Tested at the same time. And I have, it's an implant. So you won't be getting me pregnant."
"That is really super exciting news," he says. He strips naked with a certain unexpected grace. He's already half hard which is sweet, she thinks. "Bedroom's this way," he says.
He's good in bed. He makes her feel good. Even after, when they're both exhausted and sweaty and sticky, he won't stop touching her. Like she's wonderful. "Do you really get laid a lot? Because you seem awfully grateful," she says.
"I have gratitude for someone as beautiful and independent as you chooses to be with me. You seem pretty grateful to get some of the D-Unit," he says, laughing.
"Oh, god, never use that nickname again, ever," she says.
She falls asleep naked, on her side, half on top of him. They don't exactly fit, it's pretty rough around some of the edges but she doesn't mind.
She gets up at 4, showers and tells him she has a four hour thing. "Maybe Sunday?"
He mumbles "okay," and pulls her down for a kiss.
Sunday night she shows up at his place with pizza and beer. He lets her in and says, "Did you really have a thing?"
"I wasn't lying. It was a yoga seminar. Headstands and balancing poses. Then I got a massage. Then I went for a run. Today -"
"You worked out even more," he says. "I get it, you're Wonder Woman."
"I hope you got in some conditioning this weekend, too," she says, sitting on his couch. All she's done today is sit on her couch at home and watch a marathon of Fast and Furious movies.
"I had amazing sex on Friday night and plan to do some more of that tonight." He grins at her, sitting down next to her. "Too presumptuous?"
"Nope," she says. "I discovered having sex with you makes you much much easier to put up with."
"After only one time, too," he says.
They finish the pizza, have two beers each and end the night with more amazing and athletic sex. He has a lot of stamina and is definitely above average at going down on her. She gets tired of showing guys how to do it right.
In the morning, she says, "We are not talking about this at work."
"Message received. You're ashamed of me," he says, smiling.
"Not because of the sex, but yes," she says, laughing.
She's still happy that they start the day with a real case. She goes home exhausted and straight to sleep. They're busy every day that week with a different case each time but she still has sex with Deeks three times and twice on Sunday.
Tuesday morning, Sam yells at them about not trusting each other. They're in the car with the comms off when Deeks says, "I can't believe Sam went off on us like that. We trust each other. We've done butt stuff."
She winces. "And now I regret it because you just called it 'butt stuff.'"
He rubs his face. "Regardless. Butt stuff is all about trust. You know?"
"So you won't mind if I buy a huge strap-on? You trust me that much?"
He laughs. "I'm embarrassed to admit I got hard from you just saying that, so yes. I totally trust you to come at me with a huge strap-on."
She laughs. "I actually had no plans to do that, but I guess I'll add it to the list."
"See? That's trust," he says.
A few hours later he offers his gun and she smiles at him. She leaves work before he does. But after an hour he knows on her door and comes in without waiting for her.
She looks up from the couch. "Did I give you my key?"
"Copied it," he says. "Hey, I was thinking. Compromise - we go to a bar that has live music but the band uses a synthesizer or a drum machine or a keytar and no acoustic instruments."
She turns off the tv. "Your idea of a compromise is we're both unhappy?"
"We're both a little unhappy and a little happy."
She shrugs and puts on her bra, conveniently located on the floor in front of her. She takes off her sleep shirt. It's three sizes too big and says I love a Marine. Jack bought it for himself. He'd point at it and say "I love myself, right?" He left it for her when he went overseas. It's just a shirt, though. She wears it all the time and doesn't think about it. She folds it carefully and leaves it on the corner of the couch. She walks to her bedroom and finds a clean tee and her one pair of colored jeans.
They walk into the bar and she sees the band setting up. "Oh hell no. Those are three acoustic instruments and I think that singer is a woman with braids. Not punk braids, hippie Lilith Fair braids."
He steers her towards the bar. "You know what? I didn't check the list. They just have bands here. And beer. Okay? I didn't check."
"I trust you," she says with a sour expression.
"You know," he says, after ordering two beers. "You know, I wouldn't mind if we did more than sex."
She doesn't look at him. "That feels like rushing."
"Does it? Okay, withdrawn." Their beers arrive and he immediately drinks half of his. The band starts up. It's a lot of strumming. The lead singer's voice is scratchy. So many hippies who smoke too much.
She says, "You can't really withdraw it. You put it out there." She looks at him and smiles. "But it's okay. Maybe we could."
"I would like that," he says. "I never thought we'd make good partners, you know. But now I see you better."
"You barely know me," she says. "Even if we have done butt stuff."
"So," he says. He orders himself another beer and one for her. She's only had half her glass so she guzzles the rest down. "Classy," he says. "So, tell me something."
"You first."
He sips his new beer. "Okay. Okay. I lied to you. About my dad."
"He didn't try to shoot you and tell you he hated you?" She hopes.
"He did all of that. I shot back. I was 11. He was, he is a pretty damn shitty father. I honestly have no idea if he's alive or dead. I hope it's dead." He smiles and clinks her glass with his. "You go."
"Um, let's see. I was engaged to a Marine."
"When you were much fatter? I assume he bought you that shirt."
She smiles. "No, I took it from him, he bought it for himself. He was in Fallujah. He came back, he was sick. PTSD. Then he left me because he was too sick to be with me. I assume. And my next boyfriend was when I was in Norfolk, my first year with NCIS. He was not a Marine, he was a medically discharged Marine. He'd lost his leg at mid-thigh, but you couldn't tell. I mean, I could tell, but he was really good at just being. Then he died in a perfectly ordinary car crash. He wasn't even driving. I have not really dated seriously since then. But now you want to. Or you did before you heard all that."
"Ha," he says. He tucks her hair behind her ear and kisses her cheek. "My last serious girlfriend was Jess. Trainer. We dated for a year before we started on that case. We told our superiors, but mostly, we kept it quiet. I was, I was really used to waking up with her. It was stupid to keep doing it when I was under."
"And he knew," she says. "What a fucking asshole. I should have let you shoot him."
He laughs. "No, it's okay. It would have been wrong."
"Maybe," she says. They're holding hands. The top of the bar where their hands are is sticky. "This feels stupid," she says.
"Good stupid?" He squeezes her hand.
"Well, I did tell you some of my secrets. I guess we could try dating."
He kisses her cheek again. "And we still have shit to share. Next week. Week after, maybe."
"We can parcel them out," she says. She gets down from the bar stool and kisses him for real. "Let's go somewhere and fuck."
"Sorry about the hippies," he says. "And yes, let's go."