Don't own any of the characters.
The bullpen around her is busy with the daily activities of the Mission. But Kensi has a quick memory of her ride earlier that morning with her partner. A quick smile and a little chuckle sweep through her, and then it's back to the task at hand on her laptop.
Unfortunately, Kensi has been way too happy in the past few weeks. All the men around her have noticed the change, and all three of them are completely baffled. Sam Hannah and his partner Callen both think Kensi is seeing someone. They just hope and pray it isn't Kensi's partner, the LAPD Liaison Detective Marty Deeks. Deeks knows all too well what's made Kensi more agreeable, and that baffles him even more.
Being a dog person, Deeks thought Kensi needed to get a dog. They are loyal, dependable, hunger for attention and can be protective. Just like Deeks; just what she needs. Kensi plays with Monty when Deeks brings him to the Mission or on a case. She even seemed fond of Deeks' dog. So how could she betray him? Them?
Last weekend, after getting sad news that an old high school friend had died, Kensi needed someone to curl up with. Someone who wouldn't ask any questions and wouldn't require more of her than she was willing to give. For the first time in a while, Deeks' companionship wouldn't help.
On her way home Kensi passed a road sign she had seen every day when returning home after a day at the Mission. This time, however, instead of reading past the sign she actually took a second to read the sign itself - Humane Society. Huh. Could that be the answer to her needs tonight? Maybe a stray dog would fit the bill.
Quickly she flicked on her turn signal, and headed into the Humane Society's parking lot. Fortunately, the Humane Society in LA had late hours on Thursday nights. The lights inside were on and a receptionist looked up at Kensi as she came through the doorway.
"Hi. How can I help you?" asked the receptionist.
"Hi. I saw your sign outside and wondered if I could take a look at the dogs here," said Kensi. The receptionist wouldn't know this about Kensi, but the dull look in Kensi's eyes, the slump of her shoulders and her flat voice would have tipped off anyone who knew her that she needed something really badly. And they would have been really surprised to think that need would be fulfilled at the Humane Society.
"Sure, I can take you back to the dog area. Would you mind coming with me for one moment, first? I need to drop off these documents in another area of our facility."
"Okay," replied Kensi.
Stacking the papers and folders up on her desk, the receptionist picked up the three top folders, nodded a smile at Kensi, and pushed through the heavy wooden door bearing the words "No Entry Without Supervision."
With the opening of the door all hell broke loose in the areas where the animals were kept. The dogs, from another section of the building, starting barking aggressively. It was almost as if they thought the dog with the loudest bark would be set free. But in the section of the building in which Kensi and the receptionist walked, all Kensi saw were the huge saucer-sized eyes peering out at her from large and small tufts of fur. Bellowing out of their tiny lungs came mournful wails from the distraught felines.
Laying her folders on the work table in the "cat room" the receptionist asked Kensi if she wanted to take a look around in here before heading to the dog down the hallway of crates, Kensi shook her head slowly. Some of the cats practically gave Kensi furballs just looking at them, they had hair growing everywhere. Hard to imagine how all that fur wouldn't get all over every inch of her dark jeans. Then there were other cats who looked so mangy, they could have passed as being somehow related to either Monty or Deeks. Definitely not taking one of those home. But near the end of the rows of cats in crates, Kensi laid eyes on a little black kitten. Scared to death of all the barking and ghostly wails going on around her, this kitten shivered in the middle of the enormous crate, eyes closed. With that sight, Kensi realized that she didn't so much need a friend, as she needed to be a friend. She wanted to take care of someone, or something. That thought made her stop breathing for a moment, causing her to look away from the tiny creature all caged up. But with the next breath, Kensi looked back into the crate and her eyes welled up.
The look on Kensi's face was one the receptionist had come to know well. With a smile on her own face, the receptionist leaned against the wall and watched a new romance take root. Stepping closer to the kitten's cage, Kensi reached a finger in, calling out softly to the kitten. Once the little ball of fur opened her eyes and tentatively ventured nearer to Kensi's finger, Kensi was smitten. There was no doubt who Kensi would be sharing her bed with that night.
So Chezzlewick the kitten had a new home. Chezzie was going to be pampered as no other cat in history has ever been. A cardboard box to be taken home in? No way! This regal, if petite, feline was going to get the royal treatment from the start. Kensi found a soft red sweatshirt in her car as the Humane Society receptionist put together the paperwork for Chezzie's adoption. Not recognizing it as her own sweatshirt, Kensi deduced that it must have belonged to Deeks. Not any more. Now this fabric that once wrapped itself around her partner would be plumped and kneaded every time the cat prepared for a nap. Exactly like like the man himself, soft and warm up close, but also very protective.
Firmly established as the #1 cat in Kensi's life, Chezzie enjoyed the ride home thoroughly, falling asleep as soon as Kensi tuned her car radio NPR. What? Do you think a sleepy kitten would enjoy techno music?
Anyone else a huge fan of cats? NPR (for non-Americans, that is National Public Radio - it's what Monty listens to in the car)? Can you see a future for Chezzie and Monty?