No really, I'm good.
A/N: Set right after episode 4x23 "Parley". I saw this episode in a re-run just the other week and it made me wonder: what if Kensi is absolutely NOT good, and decides it's time to let Deeks know. Can she find the guts to change their "Thing"? Here's my answer.
Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing but the DVD boxes and the TV I watch them on.
On we go…
You're good. The case was closed. Mystery solved. People saved. Diamonds found. And Max Gentry was once more replaced by the man you know: your reliable partner Marty Deeks. Which meant, as an unspoken agreement by all who knew how hard he worked and how much he despised having to crawl into this particular alias, that whatever Max had done and said, was carefully locked away in the OPS files, along with the brown leather jacket tucked away at the far end of the wardrobe.
Everything coming out of his mouth these past few days, wasn't Deeks, it was Max. Whenever that little bitch Monica had put her talons on him, she had merely touched Max. It was Max she has kissed. And so it was Max who had kissed her back.
Just like it had been Marty who had stood behind you as you tackled and arrested the dumb hussy, his gun pointing at Monica's head. Asking you if you were good.
And you are, really.
It's not like you don't know what it's like, to play dress-up and flirt with a suspect, to laugh at their stupid jokes while trying not to kick them in the nom-des-plumes when their filthy hands start to wander across your body. You know why you do what you do and you know you are perfectly safe; that your partner as well as your brothers in arms, Callen and Sam, will always have your back.
As you have his. It's part of the job, even if the conversation he just had with the suspect triggered your gag-reflex. You were there in case he needed back-up. That was all. Nothing to do with a little green monster which was gnawing away at your intestines. Nothing. It was the job. That's all.
So you're good, really.
Which means that there is no reason for you to be driving to his place. You don't even have a valid excuse, but you are totally prepared to wing it. Suggest a movie night. God knows he can use an evening of mindless TV and some cool beers with his partner to detox from being Max. Getting pawed at by the hussy. How horrible an experience that must have been. Poor Deeks.
It's a good thing you're always there to save him in his time of need. Right?
Right.
Then why are you so nervous?
You are. Your palms are sweaty, your heart is racing, your throat is dry. There are questions tumbling around and around in your mind, but they're not the kind you can simply ask him. Both because you're not really sure you're entitled to ask these kind of question to a man who, at the end of the day, is really only your work partner, and because you're not quite sure you want to know the answer when he does feel inclined to give you one.
Marty Deeks is a good liar. You think you might prefer the lie this time. But he's also the most honest man you know, once he's shed his alter ego's skin.
If you care for me Marty Deeks, lie to me tonight. Or else refuse. I want to know the answers, but I might not want to know them now.
Maybe you should turn around and head home. Take a bath. Let it all wash away. And move on.
You almost do exactly that, but for some reason, when his apartment building comes into view, you know you can't. Not this time.
So instead, you park your SRX and shut the engine. Taking a deep breath and wiping your sticky, slightly trembling (really, Kensi?) hands on your jeans, you open the door and step out into the balmy night.
His light are still on, so you know he hasn't retreated to bed yet, even if it's rather late and the day has been long and tiring. Maybe you should…
Don't be such a damn coward! This is Deeks, your partner! He'll be happy to see you.
Gathering all your inner bad-ass, you regain your composure and raise your hand to knock, only hesitating a moment before allowing your knuckles to come in contact with his door.
You hear him shuffling toward the door and you quickly try to come up with any viable excuse as to why you're there; just in case you need one.
The door opens and luckily, you're saved by the dog. Monty adores you and assaults you the moment the gap is big enough for him to push himself through. You take your sweet time, ruffling his furry head and scratching him behind his floppy ears until the pup pants in pleasure. At least, now you have an excuse for your palms to be moist.
"Hey," your partner grins when you finally look up.
"Hey."
"You want to come in?"
"Sure."
Half tripping over a still excited dog, you inelegantly fall over his threshold, but thank God he wasn't watching your clumsy entrance. He's already ventured into the kitchen, grabbing two bottles of water and handing one to you.
"So…" He starts, but trails off after that.
Awkward…
"So…" You mimic, by lack of a more eloquent comeback. His eyebrows shoot up.
"Not that I mind seeing you or anything, but eh…why are you here Kensi?"
Good question. And the answer is…
"I eh…"
God, woman, pull yourself together!
"I'm…I'm not good."
Where the hell did that come from? Again, his eyebrows shift. He looks concerned now. You hate that look on him, hate it even more when you're the cause for it.
"Why not, Fern? What's wrong?"
"Monica." Yeah. Progress. Not.
"What about her? Did she hurt you?"
Quickly, you see his gaze peruse your body, as if making a scan of possible injuries. You shake your head. Yeah, she hurt you, but not in the physical way Deeks means.
"Then what about her?"
You want to venture further, but need some reassurance first. So you look him straight in the eyes, trying to find the support which always lingers there.
"Can you promise me something?"
His answer is immediate and confident.
"Anything."
"If I asked you some questions, difficult ones, will you be honest with me? Even if the answer is painful?"
Arms cross over his chest. He's on the defense. Weary. Guarded.
"Painful to me or to you?"
"Either. Both."
He sighs, but nods. "Okay."
You nod too.
"You slept with Nichole, right?"
He gives you a confused look.
"I thought this was about Monica. But okay, I'll answer your question. Yes, I slept with her."
Even though you knew that, it still hurts. But you're going to get hurt again before the night is over, so you brace yourself.
"But you were Max, right?"
"Yeah…though that time, there was a little too much Deeks involved. But yes, she was sleeping with Max."
"And Monica?"
Understanding dawns, you can actually see it happening, see his handsome features change from confused to determined. Determined to do what, you're not sure.
"You want to know if I slept with Monica?"
You nod curtly, your vocal chords too dry to formulate the question itself.
He shakes his head and you want to cry with relief.
"No, Kensi. I did not sleep with her."
He takes a step closer, tilting your chin so you have to face him.
"But I would have, if needed. To keep my cover. It's what we do, Kensi. I can't sugarcoat it and I won't apologize for it."
"I don't…that's not…are you glad it didn't get this far, or…?"
Deeks' eyes widen in shock and disbelief, before narrowing in anger.
"Or what, Kens? Or do I regret it? Do I wish I could have? Would I have jumped at the chance to fuck a pretty girl like her, all the while hiding behind Max? How unprofessional do you think I am? I don't deserve this, you know, especially not from you!"
Okay, so that was the wrong thing to say, or at least the wrong way to say it. Stupid green eyed monster! Tears of humiliation gather in your eyes as you frantically search for a way to clean up the mess you've created and get this painful conversation back into calmer waters.
"You're right, you don't and I'm sorry, Deeks! I'm sorry. I just…"
Suddenly he looks tired as he wipes his face with one hand.
"Just what Kensi? Why all these questions?"
"I…"
"Don't think for one moment you don't owe me a truthful answer here, Princess."
You know you do. Doesn't make it come out any easier.
He sighs and turns away from you.
"This isn't working. Here's what's going to happen now. I'll go and walk Monty, bring us some donuts if you like. We'll talk when I come back. And I do mean talk. This thing has gone on long enough, we both deserve to get some answers."
He grabs the dog leash and calls his dog, who obediently struts over and allows his Master to attach the leash to his collar.
"Help yourself to a beer if you want to. I'll be back in twenty minutes."
As he opens the door, he turns to you one more time.
"You can run now Kensi. But if you do, know one thing: My private life will be off limits to you. We'll be partners and partners only. You get that?"
Yeah. You get it. You nod and produce a weak smile. Thank God he smiles back.
"Don't worry Princess. I got your back."
With that, he leaves, the door closing with a silent thud.
God, you do need that beer! Getting one from the fridge, you uncap it and let the cool fluid cool down some of the jitters, not caring about the burp that follows. More sassy than classy indeed. With half a bottle still left, you sit down on the couch, your fingers nervously plucking at the label, tearing it to moist little shreds.
You can run, the scared little girl reminds you. No need to face this. Just get the hell out of here! But immediately, you know you can't. It's not your style. You'll lose him as a friend. Partners and partners only, that's what he said. And he certainly meant it too.
Which probably means no more movie nights, no more Top Model marathons with take-out food and beers. No more flirting in the car during stakeouts, just to pass the time. No more hidden stash of Twinkies in the car or his drawer.
No, being partners and nothing more sounds even lonelier than not having him around it all.
Oh my God! What if he resigns? Goes back to LAPD for good?
It's clear that, whatever this talk will bring you, it needs to happen now. There's no stalling it any longer. Your clear as daylight jealousy will not be contained as your feelings for your partner grow stronger with each day he proves himself to you. Loyal. Kind. Dedicated. Strong. Smart. Your partner. Your best friend. Your Deeks.
Time flies, then crawls. But still, you're not as prepared as you'd like to be when you hear the doorknob being twisted. Again, Monty offers a few minutes of reprieve as at least he looks happy to see you're still there. Deeks unclasps his leash and follows his dog into the kitchen to get him a snack. He comes back with a box of donuts and two fresh beers, setting one on the table next to the empty, naked bottle. You're sure he sees the small wads of paper littering his coffee table and knows the reason they're lying there, but he doesn't comment. He merely takes a swig from his own drink, then leans back.
"I'm glad you're still here, you know."
He is?
"You are?"
"Of course. I never wanted to make you run Kens. But I realize we're entering uncharted territory and it's frightening. So let me start by saying that I want us to work this out between us."
"So do I Deeks."
"Good. But we're going to have to be completely honest and honestly complete here. Both of us. No lies. No half-truths. No hiding behind metaphors. All or nothing."
"Is it wrong if that scares me?"
"No. It scares me too. But I'm more scared of what will happen if we don't do this. It's degenerating our trust in each other and we don't need that. Don't deserve it either."
He's right, of course. Taking a careful sip of your beer, you brace yourself for what's coming, hoping you can weather the storm and come out bigger and better than before.
"Kensi…why does it matter to you so much that I didn't sleep with Monica?"
"Because…"
You sigh, choke, than start again, adamant to get at least one full, meaningful sentence out.
"Because I…I don't want to lose you."
It's clear by his expression that you need to elaborate.
"First mom left, then Dad, then Jack. Dom. I know it was never my fault, but still, it hurt."
"I understand that, Princess, but you know you can never lose me. No matter how many Monica's I will have to seduce for the job, you're still stuck with me. You're my partner."
"I know. You always have my back. I'm not worried at all about that."
"But you're still worried."
"Yes."
He takes another swig of his beer, handing you yours, knowing you could use the little distraction to sort yourself out for a moment. Gratefully, you let the liquid slide down your throat, which is burning with unshed tears and unsaid explanations.
Again, you heave a sigh and soldier on.
"Deeks, can I ask you something else?"
"Anything. We established that."
"Okay…In all this time we've been working together, have you…I mean, other than flirted or anything, have you…been in love? As in, wanting a relationship? With anyone?"
When, after some hesitation, he nods, you feel your heart crumble. This is what you've always been afraid of. Of Deeks falling for a woman. A woman without excess baggage. Or skeletons in her closet. Or commitment and trust issues. Or a sometimes violent streak.
In short; a woman who's not you.
After all, how long was he supposed to wait for you to sort out your own mixed signals? On the other hand, if he has been in love during the time you've known him, he has done a tremendous job in hiding it from you. And the rest of the team. Even Hetty, though she might have known and decided not to tell you. You wouldn't put it past her.
Marty Deeks is a good man. A handsome man, though some people refuse to see past the scruff, but that's their loss. He's a catch. And you are pretty naïve to assume you're the only woman noticing that. Or that he wouldn't notice any of them in return.
He must have seen the pain etched on your features, because he gently reaches for your hand.
"Shouldn't your next question be who this lucky lady is?"
Lucky indeed. Perhaps it's best if you don't know her. It's safer that way, for her at least.
"You don't have to tell me."
"Yes, yes I do. It's the whole point of this little conversation we're having, isn't it?"
There's nothing to say to that, so you nod, hoping he won't go into details.
"Kensi…please don't be sad. Don't be afraid. You are never ever going to lose me, at least not to some other woman. I fell in love, hard, when my name was Jason and I was undercover at an MMA school, with this pretty girl with mesmerizing eyes who called herself Tracy."
You're struck speechless, unable to move, unable to process what you're hearing.
"I had the biggest fortune ever when she became my partner, my very best friend, the single most important person in my life. I gained her trust and I fell in love with her over and over again, more and more each day, each hour I was with her."
He stretches his hand to wipe away a tear you hadn't realized was rolling down your cheek. Unable to help yourself you lean into his gentle touch.
"I know it scares you, Kens. If I'm honest, so am I. But these past few weeks, I've been more afraid of never taking that leap than I am of us not working out. It…these feelings for you weigh me down. They don't want to be ignored or repressed any longer. They're here to stay, whether reciprocated or not. But I do need to know, in order to make a plan for the rest of my life."
The look on his face is so intense you're afraid it might burn you. There's hope in there, yet it is doused in doubt and edged with sad acceptance should you not want to take this giant leap of faith with him. It's that look, more than his words that makes you finally accept the truth with a clarity you've never felt before. About anything or anyone.
This is inevitable.
As it was inevitable that Jack would one day leave you, it was by some divine intervention that this man, this wonderful, incredible friend crossed your path and wormed his way into your heart. To show you that you were worth the fight, worth the wait. Worth anything and everything.
The options are twofold and both very clear: either you throw it all away, let your fear ruin this man's heart and your own, or you take this leap and reap the benefits of being loved and loving someone this special.
Of course there's a chance you won't work out, or that your job will take him away from you, but do you really want to look back years from now and feel nothing but regret the time you wasted being too scared to take what he's so generously offering you? That you deprived him of the love you can give him in return?
No! Hell No. No!
Marty's holding your hand, patiently waiting for you to get your thoughts sorted. Which they are now. They're more sorted than ever.
"Marty?"
He looks up at you again, surprise etched on his face at the use of his first name.
"I'm happy you didn't sleep with Monica. I didn't want you to. I don't want you to look at other women, except I guess when you need to for the job. But not outside that. I don't even want to think about you wanting to date other women than me. I don't…"
He cuts you off with a finger put to your lips. A shiver runs down your spine when the tip lingers on your lower lip.
"Sugarbear, I don't need to hear what you don't want. I want to know what you do want."
He leans closer and softly whispers in your ear.
"What do you want, Kensi?"
You swallow and turn your head to look him straight in his wide open, clear blue eyes.
"You. I want you Marty Deeks."
His smile makes the fear all worth it. His arms around you chases the last vestiges of it away. All you feel now is happy as he pulls you closer.
"You got it, Princess."
Then his lips descend on yours and everything except for pure sheer joy is forgotten as you sink into his kiss.
Finally.
Minutes (Hours? Days?) later, he lets go of you, gasping for air, but grinning from ear to ear.
"You good Kensi? Are we good?"
You grin as you answer, before yanking his head back down.
"I'm good, really, really good."
THE END.
Reviews welcome and very much appreciated, as always. Thanks for your support!