"So… what have we learned today, young man?"
Donald Ray Deeks looked down from his mother's glance.
"We don't use the play guns inside."
"Good. And what about you, Deeks?" Kensi turned to face her husband, who looked down also; she almost smiled at how similar they looked: the only differences between the two were their height, the brown color of Donny's hair and, of course, the older Deeks' beard.
Their expressions were also similar, ashamed yet slightly amused and scared at the same time.
"We don't let Donny use the play guns inside."
His wife cleared her throat and he frowned.
"And we don't join him either."
Kensi smiled.
"Good. Now go grab your gun and run outside, Donny. We're taking Daddy down."
"Yey!" the little brunette version of the original Deeks ran outside with a bright smile on his face.
"Hey!" The blond pouted, but smiled nevertheless when his partner snaked her arm around his neck and kissed his cheek.
"I'm sorry, baby." She purred, stroking his neck. "Let me make that up to you, ok?"
Deeks grinned, leaning into her. "Sounds about right to me."
The second his eyes were shut, his lips merely an inch from hers, she backed away and ran outside, picking up the gun her son tossed her.
Deeks snorted.
"Seriously, Fern?"