I still own nothing. Deeks would wear shorts to show off his beautiful legs every episode if I did.
Pulling up next to Deeks' Jeep at his apartment, Kensi anxiously fidgeted with her blue tank top and white shorts while giving herself a pep talk. "Be sexy. Be strong. Be cool. Don't be stupid." The former two always rang true; the latter two, not so much. Especially with Deeks, where her level of stupidity often rose to meteoric heights. At least she was aware of her stupidity, and could make a conscious effort to not repeat past mistakes.
She pushed open the door to her personal car, a 1995 Honda Accord that had seen much better days, and climbed out with her lone travel bag. The ability to pack lightly was something she took pride in and had always impressed the (very few) men she'd gone on weekend trips with in the past. Besides, on most of those trips she didn't plan on wearing many clothes anyway. While she had somewhat reigned in her intense need to be able to sing the Bang Bang Bangity Bang song, she really hoped to have the same luck on this vacation as well.
Chill out, idiot. From what she could guess, this trip was supposed to be about clearing their heads and talking so they could work their issues out, not having wild monkey sex. Not that she would complain if the end result was wild monkey sex. She just needed to mentally prepare herself that the heartbreaking solution to their problem might be for them to not have a relationship outside of work at all.
Work, now that was a sore subject at the moment. Sam and Callen were back from their mandated time off, but Hetty was placed on administrative leave without pay for a month after all of the details of how she manipulated the White Ghost mission came to light. She admitted her fault in the grand scheme of things, and claimed she would use her time away to reevaluate her priorities. "And organize my antique weapons collection," she had said with a tense smile. It was unknown whether she would actually be returning or if she'd ride off into the retirement sunset in her Jaguar. Whatever happened, Kensi didn't hold any grudges; she'd spent too much of her life doing that very thing, and life was just too damn short to do it again.
Sighing impatiently, she pulled her phone out to text Deeks to hurry the hell up just as the door to his apartment opened and he trotted out in a white tee shirt, army green shorts, and flip flops with a backpack on his shoulders. And wow, sunglasses were a wonderful invention. For Deeks, his Oakleys just further enhanced his sexy surfer boy appeal. For Kensi, they hid the desperate lusty stare she couldn't help but give him as he strutted towards her with a smile.
"Good morning," he said cheerily.
"Morning," she replied. "You finally ready?"
"It's not my fault you're early."
"You said 10:30."
"And it is," Deeks looked at his watch. "10:29."
Kensi made a face and rolled her eyes. "Just. Whatever. Where's Monty?"
"Nell came by to pick him up for me this morning."
"Did you mention-"
"That I'm going on vacation with you?" Deeks interrupted her with raised eyebrows. "No. And she didn't ask."
"Cool. So, yeah. Where are we going?" He rolled his eyes back at her and tossed his bag in the back of his jeep. "Whoa, what are you doing? We're not taking that piece of shit of yours."
"My piece of shit?" He raised an eyebrow. "It's better than your piece of shit. And we can enjoy the fresh air."
"So does that mean we're not going to get a lot of fresh air on our trip?" She tried to pry out of him.
"So impatient." He truly had no idea. "We're not sleeping outside, if that's what you're asking. I don't sleep outside by choice unless it's on the beach and not alone." Kensi crossed her arms and started tapping her foot. "Fine. It's not that big of a deal, anyway. Solvang, it's about 2 hours from here."
"Yeah, I know where it is. The Danish village city? Really?" Kensi pursed her lips, intrigued. It wasn't what she expected.
"Yes. Is that a, uh, problem?"
"Nope, not a problem at all," she answered, shaking her head. A question flashed in her head over and over again: what were they going to do in that small city to keep themselves busy for an entire week. This could be promising. "Now, since I know where we're going, I can drive."
"Or I could just drive since this trip was my idea in the first place," Deeks argued. "If you don't like the jeep, we could take my bike."
Bike? "I'm sorry, what?"
Deeks pointed to the parking space on the other side of his jeep. "It's a," he paused dramatically. "Motorcycle."
Kensi hadn't even noticed the return of the Triumph Bonneville Hetty had confiscated from him. While Hetty had been ruthless in her acquisition of the bike, she had been very thankful that Deeks couldn't ride it anymore. Until now, anyway. Although the thought of riding with their bodies pressed together for a couple of hours...no. Not worth it. "How? When? Why?"
Almost appearing offended, Deeks placed his hands on his hips. "How, because I have the bill of sale and a loan note with my name on it and she no had legal right to take possession of something that I own. When, a few days after her leave began. Why, why would you even ask why? Because it's my fucking bike and I'm trying not to let anybody, not Hetty or Granger or Bates or even you, control my life anymore."
Her face flushed and all she could do was stare at him, dumbfounded, because of his passionate outburst. Embarrassing as it was, assertive Deeks was kind of hot. "I. Well. Okay then."
"Wow, sorry," Deeks said, laughing awkwardly. "I didn't mean to kinda snap at you like that. Sore subject, I guess."
"We're cool." Except that they were both so the opposite of cool. Hot, very hot, in more ways than one. Kensi tossed her bag in the back of his jeep next to his. "You can drive. But not the bike."
Nodding with a smile, Deeks opened the squeaky passenger door of his jeep for Kensi. "Good compromise, I guess. Though it would have been fun to ask you if you wanted to go for a little ride." A wink completed his sentence.
Climbing into the jeep, she couldn't help but tilt her head curiously. "On the...bike?" Hopefully not just on the bike.
Deeks' answer could be found in his devilish smile as he hopped in next to her and cranked the noisy engine up. Sighing, Kensi rolled her eyes and pulled an elastic hair band from her pocket. The sideways glance he gave her as she twisted her hair into a bun was subtle, but not subtle enough that she didn't notice and feel a little giddy that he was checking her out. She may have jutted her breasts out a little more than necessary, just for good measure.
"You ready?"
"Ready," Kensi answered. She tried not to dwell on the way the wind blew through his hair, or his calf when he pushed in the clutch, or how his muscles flexed and his hand gripped the gear stick as shifted from first to second to third to, oh yes, fourth.
Good Lord, she was ready.
Yeah, it was a little awkward. When the pair walked into their room at Svendsgaard's Danish Lodge, a quaint place right in the center of Solvang with similar traditional Danish architecture to the rest of the town, they saw that there was more than one option for sleeping arrangements. There were two full beds in the room, leaving the possibilities a little too wide open. It didn't help that both of them were just standing and staring at the beds without a clue of what they should do next.
"Well, this looks like a problem for Future Marty and Future Kensi." Finally, Deeks broke the silence, unzipping his bag and placing his folded clothes into the small dresser drawers.
"You're a dork," Kensi replied, tossing her unopened bag into the closet. "But agreed."
Deeks pointed to her bag. "You're not gonna unpack?"
She shrugged. "Why bother?"
Opening his mouth to comment, undoubtedly something about not even putting her clothes away in her own home, Deeks was quickly shushed by an evil look from him his partner. His mouth closed with a pop and he continued to unpack.
"Are you hungry? I'm hungry," Kensi stated, falling back in dramatic fashion on one of beds.
"Um." She may have landed somewhat spread eagle on the bed. He was definitely staring. "Yeah. I could eat."
Oh, Kensi was proud of herself now. Not so much because she was toying with him, because they've done nothing but play games with each other the entire span of their partnership. The upper hand is what she was proud to have. When she was in control of a situation, she could better control her own actions. So as quickly as she'd bounced on the bed, she jumped back up and met her partner eye to eye. "What do you have a taste for?"
Only mildly intimidated, Deeks stood tall, almost stiffly, with his gorgeous roommate-for-the-week in his face. "Anything you want." He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "Though obviously we'll have to, ya know. Eat out."
Kensi's eyes widened slightly. Well that...that just was completely unfair. Why did everything have to be so competitive with them? Was it even possible to have a horny competition, and how the hell would one determine a winner? She couldn't let him gain the upper hand on her after she'd worked so hard to keep herself under control. It was fun, but unless he was ready to dine on la cuerpa de Kensi at that very moment, she needed to put this on hold. "Ahem. Right. I need a beer."
And with that, Deeks visibly relaxed. "Beer sounds great."
"I'm just saying..." Kensi blinked and pointed to a mustached man to her left. "That I don't like that kind of facial hair. It looks like a 70s pornstache."
"Okay, what about that guy?" It was Deeks' turn to point a little too obviously at a very large bearded man sitting at the bar of Randy's Tap Room. "Does that tickle your fancy?"
"Tickle my who?" Kensi giggled, and then laughed because wow, she was so tipsy that she actually just giggled. Kick-ass federal agents do not giggle, and they especially don't giggle when they've been drinking the better part of the day with their smoking hot partner. The same smoking hot partner whose leg was creeping so close to her own that his fine blond hairs were starting to...well, tickle her. "That's just...ew. That would literally tickle my fancy."
"Nice." Deeks attempted to lean back in his small wooden chair but ended up in more of a slumped position. "That guy," he said, pointing again.
"Billy goat, gross."
"That dude."
"I think that's a girl."
"Damn. So, that girl?"
Kensi rolled her eyes and tried not to smile, but a smile had been permanently on her face ever since Deeks hijacked a Segway from a tour group. Long story, but Ms. Ellis from Fayetteville, Arkansas would have been pissed it it hadn't been for his California charm when he returned it to her. "Seriously?"
He shrugged. "Thought I'd ask."
"So are you satisfied now about the facial hair?" His leg was nervously bouncing about under the table, tickling her even more than before. Even with the amount of beer she'd consumed (and lost count of) throughout the day, Kensi resisted the urge to slip her flip flop off and slide her foot up the loose legs of his shorts. Barely. She was tipsy, but not drunk enough for that. "It is hardly ever a good thing."
"That's not a never."
"Nope."
"So there's an exception."
"Possibly."
Deeks grinned. "Are you having deja vu?"
Kensi took a swig of her beer. "Totally. I feel like we've talked about this but I deleted it from my history."
"Like, internet search history?" Deeks slouched even lower in his chair and smoothed his hair, unruly from a day of walking in and around all of downtown Solvang in 90 degree weather. "Is that where I could find Mr 70s pornstache too?"
"Shut up, I don't look at porn."
"Liar."
"Am not."
"Are too."
Narrowing her eyes, Kensi fingered the wrapper on her beer bottle. It was funny, and only occasionally annoying, how Deeks sometimes reverted back to a silly, almost innocent creature when he drank. "You're like a twelve year old."
"Your mom's a twelve year old," he quipped back, finishing his beer with a grin.
"That's mature."
"Your mom's mature."
Kensi grunted and shook her head. "I don't even know what to say to that."
Sitting up in his chair, Deeks leaned across the small wooden table. "I'm the exception, right?"
"Um-" Pausing, she debated whether to go with her natural instinct and react coyly, or to let the beer do the talking and just be honest. The beer won. "Yes."
His face reflected a much more serious expression than just a moment before. "Not Jack?"
The question caught Kensi off guard. Jack? Her literal white ghost was coming back to haunt her. She and Deeks had so much to talk about, and so much that she just wanted to forget ever happened. That was the easy way out, after all, repression. Couldn't they just be normal and just have drinks and sex and possibly maybe a relationship like regular people do, without all of these complications?
"He had a beard," Deeks continued, drawing the word beard out a little longer than necessary.
"Yeah, he did." She cleared her throat. "He didn't used to have one. That was different, too."
"Too?" The beer suddenly didn't appear to be talking for him, as he seemed sobered by the shift in conversation.
Sighing, Kensi adjusted to a more upright sitting position. The faster she got it out, the sooner he would drop it. "Yes, too. The Jack you met was not the Jack that I knew. And yes, when I saw him I flipped out. I wanted to save him, because I couldn't save him before. But the man I was engaged to just-" She chose her next words carefully. "Doesn't exist anymore. If there's one thing I took away my mission, it was closure with him. We went through a difficult time together, and having him there kept me alive I think. But I realized that when it was over...I just needed to let him go. Finally. Things have become a lot clearer to me lately."
Seemingly satisfied with her answer, Deeks slouched in his chair again but held her gaze steadily.
"What are we doing here, exactly?" Kensi asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.
"Drinking beer and talking?" Deeks looked confused.
She shook her head. "No. This trip. It was your idea. What were you wanting to, ya know, get out of this?"
Deeks smoothed his hair again and scowled at his empty bottle of liquid courage. "I uh, I guess I wanted to talk about us, at work and away from work. There are things I think I need to say before I can commit to anything, things that you need to know. And I needed to know where you stood with Jack because we didn't exactly talk about that either. So, thanks for crossing at least one thing off of my list. I guess this trip was to try to get rid of the distractions of LA and do the one thing we really suck ass at, talking."
"Okay, so then..." Kensi cleared her throat and finished off her beer. "After all of this talking you mentioned. Are we gonna fuck?"
"Wow, uh," he chuckled deeply. "Are we not going to?"
Laughing was good, especially at such a bold question, and she couldn't help but laugh at her own lascivious attitude. What a hornball. "Well, I was just putting it out there."
"What exactly are you putting out?" Suddenly very full of himself, Deeks smirked and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Ugh, I'm just. Saying things. Whatever." Kensi nudged his knee with her own. "You don't seem like you're in the mood to spill your guts right now, am I right?" He nodded yes. "So if we're not gonna talk, and we're not gonna bone-"
"Classy," Deeks interrupted.
"Then," Kensi continued as if she didn't hear him. "I vote we tear this tiny town up and get shitfaced drunk. What say ye?"
A slow smile crept over his face. "Lady Blye, the Shitfaced? Cool."
If beer was liquid courage, then tequila was liquid dynamite. The only two people in Solvang that were big enough assholes to walk into the mellow jazz club Root 246 and immediately order tequila shots (while clearly the drink of choice this establishment was either wine or cognac) were Lord Marty Deeks and Lady Kensi Blye. After the back to back shots of tequila at their final watering hole of the evening, the two fell in a fit of laughter on a couch close to a vacant piano. Soon they would forget why they were laughing at all (Deeks had commented to the manager that an organ would fill the hole on the stage nicely and Kensi almost lost her ability to breathe).
"Tell me, good sir," Kensi slurred happily as she draped a leg over his. "Do you tickle the ivories as well?"
"I feel like you're like, unconsciously, no no, wait. Subconsciously trying to get me to tickle you tonight with all of this tickle talk."
"You started it."
"That's entirely possible. Or plausible. And I do have a strong urge to tickle you right now."
Kensi attempted to glare at him, looking more like a cartoon villainess than an intimidating federal agent. "I'll kick your ass right here, right now if you do it."
"Yeah, no you won't."
He was right. The previous attacks from her, most of them innocent and one of them not, had damaged her reflexes with him and no amount of alcohol could repair it. Damn him. "But. Just. Don't, k?"
If only the smile he gave her right then was as innocent as before, before the tequila and before he slowly started slipping her flip flops off with a single finger until they landed with a loud plop on the stone floor. Somehow nothing about the deliberate way he licked his lips and fixated on her like a jungle cat about to eat his prey was remotely innocent. A wave of something kin to a mixture of panic and lust coursed through her body, from the tips of her toes to her now very warm ears. That damn finger trailed a soft line of fire from her foot to the muscular curves of her calves and thighs until it settled just below the hem of shorts. Little Lady Blye of the South was almost painfully aware of his fingers and their proximity to her.
Talking, he'd said earlier. Talking, talking, talking. This wasn't fucking talking. If anybody was talking, it was Jose Cuervo. Words didn't need to be spoken from Deeks for Kensi to know what was on his mind, despite his earlier hesitation. The only word she could slur out as she stared at her lap was a half-assed "Um?"
In a brief moment of clarity, he snatched his hand away as if her skin might burn him. "We should probably go," Deeks said very slowly, pushing her leg off of his lap so he could attempt to stand. It was a difficult process, but he managed to lift his body upright and pull Kensi to her feet as well so they could begin the wobbly trek back to their room. The room that happened to house the beds of awkwardness.
It was a sight to behold, two beautiful snockered idiots carefully stumbling down the street while trying to avoid any and all contact with each other. They were almost successful in their attempt, but Kensi's flip flop just happened to catch on the step up to the walkway for their room. She wasn't quite sure how the next course of events happened; one second she was about to fall on her face and the next her mouth was colliding with her partner's as he pressed her against the door to their room.
The weathered wood of the old door scratched her bare shoulders as Deeks lifted her up and back again, threading his lean body through her legs while she wrapped them around his waist. Her mind was swirling, full of liquor and lust and just a little bit of self-awareness of the situation. This delicious man was covering her mouth and face and neck with scruffy, sloppy kisses and she was relishing in every second of the feeling she had been craving for weeks. Her fingers twisted in his hair and her legs tightened, holding him so close that she could literally feel how much he wanted her as well. Lady Blye of the North was slurring a cease and desist order while the South currently had far more control over her body. A civil war was being waged, and her poor heart was caught in the middle.
Deeks pressed her even harder against the door and Kensi let out a small muffled cry of pain. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he backed away from the door but still held her in place while he fished through his pockets with his free hand. Amazingly he found the room key quickly and they were through the door in a flash, falling in a pile of twisted limbs on the closest bed. That little voice in her head was getting louder and clearer with each roaming movement of his hand and mouth along her body, but damn if it didn't feel so good and just so right.
"Deeks," she breathed heavily, arching her back as his hand snuck its way up her shirt. "Talking?"
"Fuck talking," he spoke softly as he trailed rough kisses along her chest. "Talking sucks. We should never talk again, just do this. All the time."
The little voice wasn't so little anymore, more like a warning shout for her to not fuck this up again. The first and last time they gave in to each other, everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. It took months for them to even get back to this point again. Was it worth it to repeat their mistakes, for one drunken night of inevitably awesome sex? Probably not. She still had no idea what he wanted to talk about anyway, but apparently it was so important that he felt it could potentially change everything between them.
If Kensi let him get into her shorts, there would be no turning back. She knew what she had to do and was about to hate herself for the rest of the night and possibly her life, but did it anyway. Grasping Deeks' hair roughly, she pulled his mouth and his damn tongue off of her body. "We have to stop."
His eyes were cloudy and confused. "What?"
"Right now. It would probably be a mistake." She swallowed deeply and tried to catch her breath and slow her heart and make everything stop throbbing.
Deeks nodded as the realization set in despite his impaired state. Blinking sleepily, he rolled off of her but kept an arm draped over her waist. Even in the dark room, Kensi could see the sadness in his face. Somehow, she thought it was about more than just their failed attempt at coitus. He closed his eyes and pulled her close. "I know. You're right. Always so smart," he whispered as he passed out.
Kensi grunted but willingly let him be the big spoon even though his remnants of their aggressive make-out session were a constant, poking reminder of her sexual frustration. "Yeah," she grumbled. "I am just so fucking brilliant."
