She felt like she couldn't move. Everything about her was sluggish. She tried to open her eyes but they wouldn't. She tried to move her body but it was like trying to move a train off a track. She groaned. Well at least she could speak. Figuratively.
The chair she was occupying was hard wood, not meant for falling asleep. But she was so tired. It's not her fault that paperwork was so dull it made her drowsy. It also didn't help that her op lasted longer than it should have. Silly little psychiatrist Nate wanted to know about her progress on lip reading. Sam wanted to know what tactic worked best for her on taking down a fully armed and trained marine. She had to listen to Hetty rant about getting food on the costumes for the second time this week.
She started squirming to find a more comfortable position but found there were none in these irritable chairs. She had work to do. She had files to finish. A desk to clean. Pencils to sharpen. However, she couldn't muster enough will power to think of anything but of a nice little nap.
She guessed everyone went home. Except G. She didn't know where he moved to now. But pondering about him would only lead to trouble. Trouble as in she couldn't live in denial anymore. Couldn't pretend the reason she was so irritable when he was shot was because her stapler had broken. Couldn't pretend that when she felt him safe in her arms she didn't feel only friendship. Couldn't pretend that she wasn't a little jealous when Hetty wanted him to date another Agent. Couldn't live a lie.
The smell of the beach mixed with wood infiltrated her senses. The sound of footsteps did as well. If someone was going to try and play a prank on her they would be going down. She feigned sleep while waiting for the person to come a little closer. Her exhaustion faded replaced by adrenaline.
She sensed that the person was right in front of her chair, their hand hovering right in front of her shoulder. It was coming closer; she was ready to attack so she pounced on the person.
Opening her eyes she found herself with her hands around G's neck in a menacing hold. G looked a bit surprised. But hey I was too because I had expected it to be some newbie or a janitor. The janitor really would have a heart attack this time if he hadn't learn his lesson the first time not to mess with me.
"Hey Kenz. Nice night." Only he could pull off being casual perfectly when someone had him in a choke hold. She glared. Then reluctantly rolled off him. Standing up he offered her a hand. She snorted and got up herself. She was independent no way her leader would think otherwise. She wasn't some prissy, weak, damsel in distress even if he used his nickname for her.
"What are you doing here so late?" He asked.
"Catching up on some paperwork." She lied.
"More like catching up on some sleep."
"It's been a long day. What about you? What are you doing here? Not taking out that other chick Hetty wanted to set you up with. I'm sure you two would look adorable together." In a make me gag kind of way she thought.
"Eh, she wasn't my type. Plus I know there wouldn't be any second date so what's the point in a first one?"
He glanced over to the stack of paperwork on their desks. G looked over at Kensi only to find her yawning.
"You should go home."
"So should you."
Kensi looked at him for a while longer. She admired his blue eyes, the curves of his jaw with its subtle hair. She really needed to stop before he complained of sexual harassment.
"What about a compromise?" Kensi questioned. Her eyes challenged him deviously.
"That could work. What's the proposal?"
"Thumb wrestle. I win we go out to eat, you win we both go home."
They stuck their hands together ignoring the electricity that shocked them both. Kensi won and they went off to grab a bite to eat. Of the many things they shared that night, G Callen never told her that he lost the thumb war on purpose.