A/N: 1. I swear to god I'm working on updates of my other stories.

2. This is going to be different than its many alike counterparts, I swear. I mean, just as angsty, if not more. But still.

Kensi woke up to a slobbering, drool covered face panting in her ear. She jumped at the realization, whipped the fur out of her mouth, and jumped out of bed.

"Deeks!" she shouted, storming into the bathroom where she could hear the water running. Deeks turned around quickly, looking utterly ridiculous with the shampoo in his hair, but didn't look particularly shocked to realize there was a half-naked ninja-assassin standing angrily outside his shower.

"You bellowed, Princess," he answered sweetly, that ridiculously smug grin plastered on his face.

"You let the dog into the bedroom. Again."

"Yes, yes I did," he answered, still smiling. When she didn't return the smile, staying stony-faced, he began backtracking, trying to cover himself.

"Well you see, Monty had to go out this morning, a little earlier than normal, and he was scratching at the door, and I know how you hate it when he scratches at the door and gets his claw marks all over."

"Deeks!"

"What do you want me to say? Is this an 'I love you' situation? More of a buy-you-roses thing? What are we dealing with here?"

She scowls and Deeks grins wider ."You're cute when you're angry."

"Now is not the time, Deeks." Kensi turned away, reaching for her toothbrush.

"Really? Now's not the time? Now, when we don't have to be at work for three hours, you're wearing my old t-shirt and nothing else, and I'm in the shower? When would be a good time for you, then?"

Kensi rolled her eyes, and wondered if she should resist on principle alone.

She rolled her head to look at him.

Nope. Willpower could wait until after the shower.

(*)

"Kensi, the pasta's on sale. Might as well stock up while we're here."

"No, there is no point in us stockpiling linguine. We'll buy it as we need it."

Kensi tried to push the cart forward, but Deeks was already piling four packages of spaghetti, spaghettini – which Kensi was fairly certain where the same thing - and fettuccini into the cart.

"Deeks…"

"Kensi, we buy that stupid all natural peanut butter for you, that ridiculous low carb bread that costs twice as much as normal bread, and enough twinkies to choke an elephant. We can buy this."

"Oh, and what about your ridiculous, high-priced fruit smoothie things? Or your dogs' all organic food? I mean, seriously. Why would a dog need all natural, organic food?"

"Monty has a very elite pallet. He's discerning."

"He's a dog. Yesterday he was eating week-old chinese out of the garbage."

"Is it my fault you closed the door to the laundry room, so he couldn't get to his food?"

"An hour! Ok, one hour! He was fine, he didn't starve to death!"

"Only because I got home!"

"If you'd done the laundry like you were supposed to…"

"I thought you didn't like it when I played with your underthings without you there…"

Unfortunately, with Deeks' usual timing, he was saying this as an elderly lady was passing them. Kensi looked down with her face flaming, and smacked him into silence as he giggled beside her.

(*)

"Deeks, do we have to do this now? I really wanted…"

"To what? Polish your knife collection again? Come on, you keep complaining about how horrible our bed is. If you want to get a new one, that means we have to buy one."

"Well, it's not really our bed…"

"Kensi, we've both been sleeping in that bed for nine months, it's our bed."

Nine months. Stupid as it sounded, Kensi honestly hadn't realized it had been that long. She hadn't been back to her apartment in nine months. In fact, if she were to wake up there now, it would be more jolting than comforting. Without really realizing it, she and Deeks had been living together.

Just starting to come around to the idea of dating Deeks took long enough. Over two years and a whole lot of shit, after the Chameleon incident, she had let him take her home, and as it seemed, never left. The kissing and the sex and the whole "couple" thing had just seemed to fall into place after that, and honestly, she hadn't really thought much about it. Dating Marty Deeks, her partner, for so many years a taboo concept, had just sort of…happened. Not even enough fanfare for a patented Kensi Blye freakout. Not even enough to make her consider anything that dating her partner might entail, because they'd been living relatively consequence-free for nine months.

She supposed it was largely due to the large upheaval at work. Callen had been in jail for four months. Four months, and no matter how much power Hetty wielded, when she quit it nullified any chance they may have of getting Callen out of jail by themselves. Sam was a caged bear, pacing frantically, yelling at Eric and Nell any time they even implied that there was nothing they could do. When Eric finally said it outright, Sam grabbed him by his shirt, pinned him against a wall, and had his fist reeled back until Kensi had gotten in the middle, and Eric had been lowered, trembling with terror, to the floor.

To this day, Kensi suspected that it was over so quickly because when she got in between Eric and Sam, Deeks' fists noticeably clenched, and she while she had no doubt that Sam wouldn't hurt her, she knew Deeks wouldn't hesitate to start throwing punches if it came to that.

Despite any and all desperate phone calls made to Hetty, she was insistent that she could not help them. They were on their own, and though the new Operations Manager tried, they would answer only to Hetty, which they made abundantly clear.

Callen was out now, but not back at work. Without NCIS' stabilizing influence on his self-admittedly nomadic life, Callen was off the grid most of the time, and Sam spent most of his time making sure Callen didn't rush into a dangerous situation without backup.

With all the changes in her workplace, Kensi supposed it was just nice to have something solid to come home to at the end of the day.

"It is nice…to have someone to say goodnight to at the end of the day," she recalled herself saying almost a year ago. And it was nice. Nomatter how bad her day went, as night fell, she came home – back to Deeks' place – to Monty slobbering her face with messy licks, and Deeks'. Sometimes he'd be cooking dinner; sometimes he'd be sitting on the couch with a beer. Once he had even snuck up behind her (he had been waiting), turned her around, and spun her until she shrieked with laughter.

And so, without realizing it, Kensi had not seen the inside of her apartment for nine months. And that's not so shocking as the other thought bouncing around inside her mind:

Deeks and I could have had a baby in the time we've been together.

She feels the chills almost immediately. Feels the panic start to grip her stomach as she wanders off to stare at the empty room. She can almost see the crib in the corner, the changing table by the wall. Can almost hear the baby screaming, almost feel her own imagined failure as she pictures herself hugging her knees on her bed.

I can't help. I can't do this. I can't do anything. This is too much. Too much pressure, too much responsibility. This isn't what I wanted. This isn't what I wanted.

"This isn't what I wanted," she feels herself whisper.

Nine months. Now even if she screws this up, there is no way out. None. She is solely responsible for the success or failure of the single most important relationship in her life.

Deeks looks at her strangely. "You don't want a new bed?"

"No, I can't…I don't…I can't do this, Deeks. I'll fail you, I'll fail our kid…"

"We have a kid?"

"No! No, but…nine months…"

Understanding dawned on Deeks' face.

"Really? That's all it takes? Kensi, there's no pressure here. We can start small, if that's what you want. Maybe a bed was too big a step. A few chairs, maybe?"

"No, I…." She'll let him down. Inevitably, that soft, entirely gushy, romantic look on his face when he looks at her will disappear, then he'll leave. And she'll be alone.

And "without Deeks" is a setting that has become completely unfamiliar to her.

She's not sure she can survive that.

His arms try to wrap around her, try to comfort her, but she can't right now, she is not prepared for his comfort, and she certainly doesn't deserve it.

So she shoves him away and runs.

Because Kensi Blye sticks to what she's good at.

(*)

Deeks calls her twenty-seven times and knocks on her door four times in less than two days.

But she doesn't answer, doesn't pick up the phone, because it wouldn't be fair to him.

Deeks is a good man, a really good man. Loyal, understanding, thoughtful, sweet. Anyone would be lucky to have him.

She supposes, in the future, she'll reach a place where she counts herself as lucky to have had him. For him to be someone she loved, not someone she loves.

But for now, she curls up on her obscenely huge bed, in her large, empty, lonely apartment, tears she doesn't deserve to cry slipping down her cheeks, and wonders if someday will ever be enough.