Author's Note: Hey there everyone! I'm a little nervous to be posting this one, as it's far more ambitious than Eye of the Beholder or In Tune, but I hope you all will like it. This will likely be six or seven chapters long and, as the title implies, will cover a variety of conversations between different members of the NCIS:LA team starting the day after the events in Parley and continuing into the weeks after Descent. I know this chapter is fairly Kensi-free, but this is a Densi story, and she will be much more present in chapter two, which is already in the works. Hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimer: Oddly enough, I still don't own any part of NCIS:LA. Sigh.


This was officially the longest work day he'd ever had. Ever. He was sure of it.

First, the morning had crept by at an incredibly slow pace, and now, as Deeks glanced at his watch for what felt like the hundredth time – and that was just counting the times he'd checked it since lunch – he was disappointed, but not surprised, to see that only a few minutes had passed since the last time he'd looked.

In fact, if I didn't know better, I'd swear time is actually moving backwards.

Sighing in resignation, he returned his attention to one of the main sources of the frustration he'd been experiencing since he'd walked into the Mission that morning – namely, the massive pile of paperwork sitting squarely in the center of his desk. Despite his best efforts, the stack seemed only marginally smaller than it had earlier in the day.

He tried to focus on the report lying on top of the pile. There was follow up legwork that needed to be done relating to the investigation in question, but it mostly entailed making routine phone calls and checking in with contacts and Deeks couldn't seem to concentrate on any of it. Thankfully, the first thing he'd done when he'd come in today was deal with all the forms and documents relating to his part in the recently concluded op he'd been participating in for Assistant Director Granger. He'd wanted to put all that behind him as quickly as possible. Since then he had been working his way through a variety of after-action reports for other recent cases and had just hit the cold case section of his pile.

Before he was even consciously aware of doing it, he'd glanced at his watch again – only to be discouraged yet again by how little time had passed. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he let his gaze drift across the bullpen to the other – much more important – source of his frustration.

Kensi.

Since the end of his op with Granger yesterday evening, he and Kensi had barely spoken. She'd assured him that they were okay when he'd tried talking to her in the armory last night, but he knew her more than well enough by now to know that things between them were pretty damn far away from "good," despite what she'd said. (Although he's fairly sure that even someone who barely knew her could have read her mood from a mile off yesterday). She hadn't hidden her true feelings well at all. But then, he thought, neither did I.

By unspoken agreement, they'd driven to work separately that morning. There hadn't been a new case, so the team had been on paperwork duty all day. And he'd been sneaking glances in her direction all day too.

She'd been avoiding him in a thousand little ways ever since they'd arrived. But unlike yesterday in the armory, her composure was now firmly back in place and she was employing much more subtle tactics in her efforts not to truly engage with him at any point. This sort of avoidance wouldn't have been immediately obvious to an outside observer – she was still speaking to him whenever something in their paperwork necessitated it, and she was unfailingly civil – but Deeks could tell. She was completely professional towards him, but that was all she was – there was no joking, no teasing, nothing beyond the basics of getting their work done. And her guard was up so high it forcibly reminded him of the early days of their partnership, back when they were stumbling their way towards understanding each other, before their friendship and mutual trust had blossomed. Before their thing had become whatever the hell it was now. He really hadn't missed those days. He'd hoped they were gone for good.

Guess not, he thought ruefully, shaking his head a bit to clear it of that particular train of thought. It wouldn't do anything to help him focus.

She wouldn't make eye contact with him unless it was vitally necessary, he'd started nearly all of their conversations today, she wasn't taking the bait with any of his jokes – not that he felt in the mood to make many – and every time there was the slightest lull in their work, she seemed to disappear like a flash, heading off to take care of some task in one part of the Mission or another. Inevitably, by the time she reappeared, he was always engrossed in the next case file in his stack.

She'd even managed to avoid the one chance he'd thought for sure would guarantee him some one-on-one time with her, choosing to skip lunch in favor of an extra practice session at the firing range. He grimaced, imagining the state the practice targets' groin areas likely had been in after she'd finished. He'd seen her wolfing down a sandwich later at her desk, after he'd come back from a solitary and unsatisfying food truck run. By that point, he'd not had any energy to wonder when she'd managed to get the sandwich or who had given it to her – he knew from past experience that she only ever brought her own lunches once in a blue moon when she'd had a particularly tasty dinner somewhere and had leftovers the next day. So this sandwich was a sign that she'd either snuck out on her own after he'd left for his lunch break, or someone else had gotten it for her. He found he didn't really like the implications of either option.

His gaze lingered on her now, watching as she worked at her own stack of papers – which was currently about a third smaller than his. He was trying to decide whether or not she was really concentrating on her work, or whether she was just putting extra effort into ignoring him, but before he could decide one way or another, an authoritative voice suddenly spoke up from behind him.

"Having difficulties with your paperwork, I see, Mr. Deeks."

Deeks startled, letting out a muffled yelp of surprise before swiveling his chair around to face their boss. "Hetty! The ninja skills are as sharp as ever. Wow. That was almost a heart attack for me right there. Yup. And no, no difficulties with the files, none. Nope."

She leveled her most penetrating gaze at him, pausing to scrutinize him for a moment before continuing. "The height of that stack," she pointed to the dishearteningly large pile of work still on his desk, "would seem to tell a different story." She arched her eyebrow at him, an expectant look on her face.

"Ah. Right. That. I have an explanation for that," he began, though seeing as he couldn't very well confess to Hetty that he'd spent the better part of the day covertly watching his partner and trying to think of ways to put things right between them, he wasn't sure exactly what that explanation was going to be. However, luck seemed to be on his side as Hetty shook her head and held up her hand to forestall him.

"Be that as it may, Mr. Deeks, I'm afraid it shall have to wait. There is something more pressing we must discuss." She beckoned for him to follow her as she turned to go to her office. "In private if you don't mind, Detective." And without even waiting to see if he was behind her, she strode quietly away.

As Deeks leapt to his feet and began to trail Hetty across the bullpen, his thoughts were so focused on the operations manager and what she could have to discuss with him, that he barely noticed Callen's eyes following them. The team leader had a speculative look on his face as he observed them before returning to his own, much smaller, stack of case files.

By the time Deeks emerged from Hetty's office nearly forty minutes later, it was just past five thirty. Crossing quickly to his desk, he shut down his laptop and grabbed his bag, starting to pack up for the night. A quick glance around the bullpen revealed that both Sam and Kensi had apparently already left for the day. His eyes darted to his partner's empty desk one more time before shaking his head. "Right," he muttered under his breath. "Of course."

He slid his jacket on and slung his bag over his shoulder before moving to head towards the exit. He'd rarely been so glad to see a day end – even the days with the most difficult cases didn't feel this bad. Though I'm sure I'll feel differently the next time I'm getting shot at, he thought to himself with a wry grin. He mumbled a short goodnight to Callen, who was still at his desk. Callen grunted in reply, before Hetty's voice rang out, calling the team leader to her office. "I need to see you post haste, Mr. Callen!"

Deeks made his way down the corridor, nodding to Eric in passing as he pushed open the Mission's heavy wooden door and stepped out into the slanting golden rays of the California early evening sun.

As he ambled slowly to where he'd parked his car, he resolved to keep trying to fix things with Kensi. There was too much riding on it to just give up.


You busy tonight, partner? I thought maybe we could get a drink…catch up?

Can't, Deeks. Not a good night for me.

Sure I can't change your mind? I'm buying…

Sorry, I've got plans.


He'd stared at his phone for several minutes after getting Kensi's last text, debating whether or not he should send her another message. He'd decided it was best not to – though he'd determined only a couple of hours earlier that he wouldn't give up on trying to get their partnership back to normal, there was only so much he could do if she was going to flat out turn him down. There's persistence, and then there's beating your head against a brick wall, and – as important as Kensi and their partnership were to him – he wasn't in the mood for the latter tonight. He'd just have to try again tomorrow; maybe the passage of another day would help improve her mood. And maybe a dozen of her favorite doughnuts tomorrow morning wouldn't hurt, either.

Deeks knew that bribing her with sugar wouldn't be enough on its own, but hopefully it would open the door enough so that they could have a real conversation. He glanced down to where Monty was sprawled next to him on the couch. He rubbed the mutt's head absently, scratching behind Monty's ears as he contemplated what to do with the rest of his suddenly wide open evening. He'd just decided on the oh-so-exciting prospect of ordering a pizza and trying to find something suitably mind-numbing to watch on television when someone knocked on his door.

Frowning slightly, he heaved himself off the couch and moved slowly to the door. The idea that maybe Kensi'd changed her mind and decided to swing by flickered briefly through his thoughts but that hope was quickly dashed when he looked through the peephole. Opening the door and leaning against the frame, he managed to mask the flash of disappointment he felt behind a smile as he greeted his unexpected guest. "Callen," he nodded at the other man, pausing for a moment before continuing. "I haven't been, uh, pseudo-fired again, have I?"

Callen simply stared at him for a moment with a confused look on his face, before his expression morphed to one of understanding. "Was that really the last time I was here?"

Deeks shrugged, tilting his head in thought. "Give or take a visit." He isn't sure, but Deeks thinks the trace of regret he sees in his teammate's eyes at hearing that is genuine. "Anyway," he says, breaking the slightly awkward moment, "if that's not it, to what do I owe the honor?"

Now it's Callen's turn to shrug. "It's been a long day. I could use a drink. Thought maybe you could too."

It's on the tip of Deeks' tongue to find some way to turn him down – to ask Callen why he didn't ask Sam instead, or why he didn't call or text ahead but just showed up out of the blue. He also wonders for a moment if this is really Callen's own idea at all, or whether the other man is only here at Hetty's suggestion. But despite being almost 100% positive he's being set up for a "friendly" interrogation masquerading as a conversation, he slowly nods and murmurs in agreement before stepping back into his apartment for his jacket and keys. After all, it's not like Kensi will be changing her mind anytime soon, and even a night being subtly grilled by Callen – likely about everything from Deeks' recent work with Granger to the current state of his partnership – will be better than sitting home and aimlessly channel surfing. Probably. It'll be more interesting, at least.

Callen drives, but he'd asked Deeks where they should go as soon as they'd settled into the car. Deeks gave him directions to an only slightly dive-y bar that's an old favorite of his because the beer is cheap and the bartenders aren't too inclined to chat. The clientele isn't overly nosey either; nobody's ever really bothered him when he's come here and so he's found that it's a good place to go to decompress after hard cases. As Callen parks and they walk towards the bar it hits him that it's been awhile since he's been here – most of his post-case unwinding has consisted of take out at his place or Kensi's lately. But that's not an option right now, it seems. He tries to roll the tension out of his shoulders and follows Callen into the bar.

The place is fairly quiet – not surprising, given that it's pretty early in the week – and they easily find seats at the far end of the bar, away from most of the other patrons. For awhile, they do nothing but share a few beers, offer running commentary on the Clippers game that's playing on the television above the bar, and avoid talking about anything related in any way to work. Eventually, the conversation dies down and they sit together in silence.

"So. Is this the part where you read me the riot act?" Deeks looks squarely at Callen, waiting for his team leader to drop the other shoe that Deeks had felt hanging – however metaphorically – over their heads since Callen had knocked on his door.

Callen returns his gaze unblinkingly, but his reply is not at all what Deeks had been expecting. "Now, why would I do that?"

Deeks can't help but snort out a disbelieving laugh. "Oh, I don't know. Going solo on this op, not looping the team in when it looked like I might have a lead, using Max for my alias, nearly botching the op when it got down to the wire, hurting Kensi in the process…take your pick." His tone has turned bitter by the time he finishes.

Callen's eyes never waver from his as Deeks spills the list of what he feels were his mistakes on the recent op for Granger. As he reaches the end, Deeks shifts his gaze away, feeling suddenly uncomfortable under the scrutiny. There's a long pause before Callen speaks, during which Deeks can feel himself become even tenser.

"Well, first of all, I'd be a pretty big hypocrite if I chewed you out for tackling a risky op on your own. I mean, we both know I've never done that, right?"

Before Deeks can reply, Callen continues. "And this is Granger we're talking about, right? He of the collaborative and generous spirit, who always lets his operatives have input into the running of an op?" Callen shakes his head. "Look. Do I like the fact that I didn't know about any of this until yesterday? Of course not. Would I rather have had a hand in planning how all of this went down? C'mon. What do you think?" Deeks glances at Callen to find the other man shaking his head before taking a drink of his beer. "But that wasn't your doing, Deeks. I know one of Granger's 'grand plans' when I see one."

Deeks opens his mouth and closes it before clearing his throat. "But I was the one who let things get out of control. Monica nearly blew the whole deal-"

"So, you asked her to steal the diamonds, then?"

"What? No-"

"But you gave her reason to believe that you would run off with her? I mean – Max gave her reason to believe that?"

"No, but-"

"So then explain to me again just how exactly it is that you let things get out of control?" Callen fixes him with another stare, even more piercing than the last. "Because you seem awfully eager to take responsibility for something that doesn't sound like your fault, if you ask me."

Deeks nearly growls with frustration when Callen cuts him off for the third time. He can't understand why the other man seems so determined to place the blame everywhere but on him, when it's so clear to Deeks that he'd been the one at fault. "It is my fault that the op was nearly ruined because I was responsible – for cultivating her as a contact, for using her to snoop at the club, for-"

"That sounds like-"

"-for leading her to believe there was something between us," Deeks continues, his voice rising slightly as he refuses to let Callen interrupt him again. "I was responsible for all that. I was." But that was all he'd had in him to say and so he lapses into silence, staring unseeingly at the television. He shakes his head. Yep, this is just about as un-relaxing as I was afraid it might be.

"As I was saying. That sounds like you were doing your job. You had to get info on Johannes and using Monica made sense. She was the easiest, most direct way to get access to the club offices. You picked the right contact, Deeks." Callen pauses for a moment before continuing, his tone slightly less forceful. "You know as well as I do that these fictions-"

"Lies."

"-lies," Callen agrees easily, changing terms without breaking the flow of his thought, "are a necessary part of the job. And yeah, sometimes it really sucks. But she had to believe you for the op to work, and you were responsible for the field work on the op. But the idea to steal the diamonds and run off with you was all hers…so she's responsible for that."

Deeks shakes his head again. "You don't understand," he says quietly.

"Don't I?"

The detective's head shoots up from where his eyes had been locked on the label he was slowly peeling from his beer bottle. He stares at Callen, brow furrowed as he tries to riddle out the older man's meaning. After just a moment, understanding dawns. "Tracy," he murmurs. It isn't really a question.

"Tracy," Callen confirms.

"Huh," Deeks nods sheepishly. "I'd almost forgotten about that."

"Lucky you," Callen mutters. "Believe me, my crazy undercover wife beats your crazy undercover girlfriend, hands down."

"Okay, first off," Deeks begins, ticking the points off on his fingers as he goes, "Tracy was an agent so you're comparing apples and oranges. Secondly, Monica was in no way really mine. And thirdly-"

"Third-"

"Now I see where Kensi picked that up," Deeks chuckles. "Ahem. Thirdly, Tracy was your partner on that op, so you didn't have to deal with your partner's reactions on top of everything else." As soon as Deeks stops speaking, he wishes he could call the words back. He must have had more beers than he'd realized, because he'd pretty much just handed Callen an opening the size of the Grand Canyon as far as his partnership-relationship-whatever with Kensi is concerned.

Surprisingly, Callen doesn't take the bait, at least not immediately. Instead, he opts to continue their current line of conversation. "Tracy ran away to the Caymans and tried to convince me to sail away with her on her yacht."

"Monica tried to get me to run off with her and the diamonds and go to Monaco. I'd say that's about even in the crazy schemes department."

Callen simply looks at him for a moment, before smirking slightly. Then he plays his trump card. "Remind me again, which one of these women stormed a Naval recruitment center and held hostages at gunpoint?"

"Fair point," Deeks concedes, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, "but Monica was deluded enough to get into a street fight with Kensi…though I have to admit, the Krav Maga was a surprise."

Callen nods. "Today was certainly interesting…in many ways," he says, taking a long drink from his beer.

"It was rough," Deeks replies, hoping he won't have to say more, but Callen doesn't let him off the hook so easily.

"Why was that?" Callen inquires. There's no judgment in his tone, but when Deeks catches his team leader's gaze, Callen's eyes seem to bore directly into him.

Choosing his words carefully, he replies slowly. "Max is always rough." He pauses, taking a long drink from his beer before continuing. "You know I don't like that cover."

"Monica Davis seemed to like him well enough." Again, Callen's tone is even, but Deeks is wary of where this is headed and keeps his answers guarded.

He nods. "She did…though she also thought it was a good idea to try out theft and extortion on her very dangerous boss, so her judgment…might, uh, might not be the best." He chuckles slightly, but it sounds a bit hollow even to his own ears. The words not the brightest Barbie in the doll house float into his mind unbidden and, as they'd done earlier in the day, they draw a genuine smile from him.

Callen smirks briefly. "True enough." He takes a sip of his beer before continuing, "is hers the only judgment that's questionable?"

"Look, Callen," he starts, though he's not quite sure what he can really say, "I already told you that I know I screwed up-"

Callen shakes his head. "I wasn't talking about your judgment. Or, well, not just yours." He looks at Deeks, head tilted slightly to the side. "I listened to some very interesting comm recordings earlier this afternoon."

And there it is, Deeks thinks. It seems that Callen has finally decided to pick up on Deeks' earlier comments about Kensi's reaction to his involvement with this op, and, more specifically, his involvement with Monica.

"I can't say I'm thrilled with the way either of you handled that," Callen says, his tone betraying a slight sharpness for the first time all night. "Now, I'm not sure what exactly is going on between you two-"

"We're just-"

"-and don't even try to pull that 'we're just partners' routine, Deeks," Callen shakes his head disbelievingly. "Because I think we both know it's bull."

He doesn't know what he can say – technically nothing is going on between him and Kensi. They're certainly not involved – not by any normal definition of the word. But they're not just partners either, at least not as far as he's concerned, and they haven't been for awhile now. For him, the feelings – confusing and unspoken though they are – have been there for some time, and he suspects that the same is true for Kensi. Any denial he can make will only sound false, so he stays mute and just shrugs at Callen, indicating that the other man should continue.

"I'm not telling you what to do in your personal life, Deeks – again, I think I'd be pretty hypocritical if I did. And honestly, I don't really care, unless it has a negative impact on how you do your job." Callen pauses for a moment before finishing his thought. "Most of the time this thing you and Kensi have going on…it's helpful, actually. The bond the two of you have is part of the way your partnership works and usually you both use it to your advantage. But today…" Callen trails off, shaking his head again. "You're just lucky Monica wasn't really dangerous, or that could've been a disaster."

Again, Deeks stays quiet, knowing that Callen has a valid point. Several of them, actually. So he just nods his head and takes a long sip of his beer. They're quiet again for awhile, their eyes on the television, but there's a bit of tension between them now and Deeks isn't really able to focus on the game. Instead, his thoughts are turned inward, going over what Callen has said. Finally, he turns to the other man, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "I'm sorry, Callen."

Callen makes a dismissive hand gesture. "I'm not looking for you to be sorry," he says, matching Deeks' serious tone. "Just fix it. None of us can afford to be distracted right now – not with Siderov trying to make a deal for those nukes. I'm worried enough about how Sam and Michelle are coping. I need to know that you and Kensi both have your heads completely in the game."

Deeks nods again and mutters a quiet but firm, "understood." Callen seems satisfied with that and the pair returns to watching the game, the silence between them is once again easy and Deeks grins. "We should do this more often, maybe…minus the work-related crises," he says, tilting his head towards Callen. "That is, unless you think Sam will get jealous."

Callen snickers. "I think he can handle it," he says. "Though I'd try to stay on his good side, just in case."

They linger at the bar for a little while longer, until Callen feels sober enough to drive and they head back to Deeks' apartment. As Deeks gets out of Callen's car, he leans down for a moment, ducking his head back inside the still open passenger-side door. "Thanks," he says quietly. "For the beer…and the advice. I won't let you down."

Callen just looks at him steadily. "I know," he says, a genuine smile on his face. "Goodnight Deeks."

"Night," he mutters, shutting the car door and watching for a beat as Callen drives off. As he walks slowly up the path to the door of his apartment, he finds he's still thinking about parts of his conversation with Callen, the words just fix it rebounding around and around in his brain. He wants to fix things with Kensi – God knows he does – he's just not sure how.

He lets himself into his apartment, smiling at Monty as his faithful pooch comes over to head-butt his knees as he closes and locks the door. He reaches down to pat Monty's head before walking down the short hall to his bedroom. His dog follows him, his short nails clicking on the hardwood floor, the sound comfortingly familiar to Deeks. Monty curls up on the end of Deeks' bed and settles down as Deeks gets ready for bed himself, still considering his options where his partner is concerned.

This thing between them has gotten past the point where either of them can plausibly deny it, as Callen proved to him earlier in the evening. But his team leader was also right that it was starting to be a distraction, rather than just being part of their partnership. And that could be dangerous – in more ways than one.

There are really only three choices, he thinks as he slides into bed, reaching over to the nightstand and setting the alarm on his phone for the morning. Fight it, accept it, or let it go. As he lies there, staring at the ceiling and willing sleep to come, he realizes that there's really only one of those options that he can live with.


TBC...