This is the second part, and I hope you all enjoy it! I've loved everyone's reviews, and I wanna thank everyone who favourited and/or followed. At this stage, I'm keeping this to just a two chapter affair, but I am most definitely considering writing more Deeks/Callen friendship, particularly 'cause there's not that much on the show. Let me know? Enjoy!
Three hours, two shots, four beers and another death trap later, Deeks was no longer thinking about the scattered children, the bomb he couldn't prevent, or the distraught families. To be fair, he wasn't thinking about much at all. He was still resolutely silent on all personal matters, but his default exuberant personality had returned and the wattage turned way up. He'd gotten into a good-natured argument with Shane that had the Australian laughing at the increasingly ridiculous counter-points Deeks had come up with, and the two of them tossing back the newly-named death trap.
Which Deeks was currently regretting as he attempted, and failed, to walk in a relatively straight line. He'd managed to toe the line, becoming increasingly intoxicated without losing all control of his motor functions, and his mental capacity to differentiate a good idea from a bad one.
For example. "Kicking that barking dog would be a bad idea."
"Yes, it would be." The amusement dripped off Callen's voice, and even in his compromised state, Deeks could hear it.
"Can I kick it anyway?" Deeks found himself holding out for an affirmative, and he knew he'd go ahead if it came. Even as he knew Callen, who'd drunk less, but-not-that-much-less, would not give him permission to kick that infernal, annoying, infuriating canine into next week. Or maybe next month. Possibly next year.
"I don't think so Deeks. I don't think you'd make it that far without help. And I'm not walking you over there, not when we're heading in the other direction." Callen proved his point by loosening his hold around Deeks' waist, only to grab him immediately as Deeks begun a one-way trip towards the pavement, courtesy of gravity.
"Oops. Sorry Cal." Deeks managed to regain his feet, and tried to pull away, intent on proving he could walk unaided. Callen let him only as far as a firm hand around his arm would let him, which was a good thing, seeing as Deeks made it all of three steps before walking got too confusing and he tilted toward the ground, arms windmilling wildly. In an order to avoid being hit in the face, Callen simply let go, watching as Deeks hit the sidewalk on his butt before keeling over to the side.
"Ouch." The word was muffled, but still clear enough for Callen to hear how clearly enunciated it was, which set him giggling like a child, which was highly undignified but Callen found himself not really caring, even though he was nowhere near as intoxicated as Deeks.
"Apparently you can't manage on your own." Callen stood in front of Deeks, who looked up at him blearily, sun-bleached hair falling over his eyes. "Here, gimme a hand, I'm not bending all the way over or I'll fall too." Deeks managed to reorientate enough to sit up, and extended a hand, finally realising that somewhere down the track, his motor skills had become fluid. Taking the offered hand, Callen hauled Deeks onto his feet, made extremely difficult by Deeks' lack of assistance and the fact that he was nearly half a foot taller than the senior agent.
"C'mon man, could you at least pretend that you can stand?" Callen dipped a little as Deeks flung an arm over his shoulder and leant, making it difficult for Callen to tell up from down.
"Well, I could, but seeing as you didn't even buy me dinner, I figured you could carry me home instead. Think of it as a chance to redeem yourself." Deeks turned and grinned a brilliant smile at the man whose head was tucked altogether-too-close to his armpit. Callen sighed and readjusted his arm around Deeks' waist, fingers catching in a belt loop in case he decided to go down again.
"If I'd known you were this much of a lightweight, I would've found someone else," Callen grunted as he tried to herd Deeks in the direction of his house, two blocks away, "at least I'd get some intelligent conversation. No, this way you idiot." Deeks seemed determined to head for the dog that had yet to cease its incessant yipping.
Deeks heaved a huge sigh, "Fine. If you insist." And stood as best he could, wrapping his arm tighter around Callen as the world spun dizzily. "I totally got this." One foot in front of the other, that's all it was. Until that foot collided with another and he landed the both of then onto the strip of grass separating the footpath from the road. Deeks was content to lie facedown on the cool, soft, luxurious surface all night, but Callen, trapped along the left side of Deeks' sprawled figure, had other ideas.
"If you don't get off me, I will aim my gun at your crotch and empty it."
Deeks winced, and rolled over as best he could, "That was unnecessarily graphic Cal. It wasn't my fault your foot ended up in my way. You're the one that tripped us." Callen pushed on Deeks' shoulder and rolled him onto his back, finally able to get free and sit up, feet on the road, backside slowly getting wet.
"Deeks. You tripped over your own feet. Mine had nothing to do with it," Callen prodded none-too-gently at the prone figure, "sit up, you'll get dew all over yourself, and then you'll come down with a cold, and I'll have to baby you through that as well." Deeks slowly righted himself, and, in an effort to remain upright, tucked himself against Callen, who instinctively splayed his legs and rewrapped his arm around Deeks' waist, stabilising them both.
"Nooo… I didn't trip over my own feet?" The statement turned into a question as Deeks found he couldn't quite recall what had happened. "Oops." Everything was fuzzy, and he was getting tired, and Callen was really warm, but he wasn't allowed to drift off, he had to keep alert. Alert for what though?
"'Mm sorry for falling over. An' for landing on you. I feel like that's something I should be s-sorry for too," Deeks looked at Callen, a nearby streetlight illuminating half his face, leaving the rest shrouded in darkness, "an' I wanna thank you for finding me. It wasss nice." Deeks trailed off, looking away, and if he hadn't almost literally been sitting in his lap, Callen would've missed the next bit. "Nicer'n Kensi an' Sam. Y' don't push."
Callen wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that, so he merely kept quiet, studying the profile of LAPD Detective Martin Deeks, a man who looked so shallow on the surface, but held almost as many hidden depths as Callen himself, which was quite a feat in itself. After a couple of minutes, as Deeks begun to lean more heavily on Callen and the dew seeped into his bones, he couldn't keep still any longer, jostling Deeks and speaking.
"Right. Home. Bed." Callen stood, alarmingly unsteady, as his slower metabolism meant the last drink was only just presenting itself, and apparently it was the one that tipped his balance over the edge. "We're going to have to do a bit of teamwork here Deeks. Y'know, sway in different directions an' all that, I ain't too steady anymore." Deeks watched him with narrowed eyes, before a wide grin settled on his face.
"Look at the mighty NCISss agent. Look at him sway like a… like a… damn." Deeks frowned as he failed to come up with a suitable simile to describe Callen. He struggled to his feet, after several attempts that ended with him landing with varying degrees of force on his butt. Callen realised, with a sinking heart, that he was still the steadier of the two, so it would still be up to him to guide them to his front door.
Callen looked around, trying to gauge how far they had left to walk, and was pleasantly surprised to discover that they were only one street over. And then he remembered that there was a short, but substantial incline between them and their refuge. "Bugger," Callen searched for a more eloquent description but failed, "bugger."
Deeks slung a long arm around Callen, mimicking the shorter man and grabbing a hold of his belt, sincerely hoping the older man didn't fall, because there was no way he could prevent it, despite all this pre-planning. "You're starting to sound like Hetty. Bugger what?" Deeks squinted at nothing, "No, wait. That came out wrong. What did you bugger?" Callen couldn't help it. He giggled. Like a schoolgirl. Deeks sighed, trying to remain serious but couldn't manage, bursting into unchecked laughter.
"Y'know what I mean." Deeks eventually spluttered.
It took a minute for Callen to gain the breath required to answer, and then the vibrating Deeks set him off again. "Stop it. You're a bad influence. This never happens with Sam." Finally, Callen had calmed enough to form words. "There's a hill in the way."
"Bugger."
~xXx~
It had taken far too long to make their way to Callen's front door, especially with Deeks' penchant for leaning just too heavily on the shorter man and tilting them dangerously close to falling again. Callen had tripped them through the front door, and it had been Deeks pulling the agent to his chest with one hand while catching the doorframe with the other that kept them upright.
Oh how the tables had turned.
The journey had consisted of badly phrased one-liners and even worse comebacks, alongside a healthy dose of undignified giggled, and Callen had to keep reminding Deeks that he was walking through an area populated by middle-aged, boring families who would all be in bed at such an unreasonable hour. Callen's balance hadn't worsened, but neither had it improved, and Deeks had given up on even trying to act sober, following whatever path his thought-train chose without considering the consequences.
It was a strange comradery that had arisen between the two.
The house was strangely devoid of furniture, until you considered whom it belonged to, but all Deeks wanted was a nice couch to plonk his butt onto, and not have to focus on the incredibly complex task of remaining upright. They wove their way through what Deeks assumed was the living room, and ended up in what was undoubtedly a bedroom, a mattress on the floor, covers tucked in with military precision.
Nothing about this insight into Callen' life surprised Deeks. Unlike events earlier this evening.
Upon seeing his bed, Callen gave up all attempts to remain standing and launched himself away from Deeks, aiming for the soft surface. He would have made it but for the fact that Deeks didn't have time to disentangle himself from the older man, so he and Callen ended up spread out on the floor, Callen centimetres from his intended target.
Deeks couldn't help but laugh himself silly.
It had taken them a minute or two, but eventually Deeks and Callen had rearranged themselves on the delightfully soft mattress, the questionable springs sagging and drawing them together each time one attempted to sit straighter. Deeks gave up and leant into Callen, finally finding a point of balance that didn't send either of them toppling. Deeks' eyes began to drift shut as the body heat emanating from Callen spread, and his shoulder became increasingly more comfortable.
And then Callen had turned things serious again.
He tapped Deeks on the cheek, and when that elicited no response, Callen tilted his face up by the chin, waiting as patiently as the inebriated can, for Deeks to open his eyes. Deeks squirmed, and reluctantly opened them, bleary blue eyes meeting bluer ones, and found that he couldn't look away.
Someone had once said that the eyes were windows to the soul.
Callen's eyes were far older than his physical age, and were infinitely more complex than the stars. They held deep sadness, but also spoke of knowing the value of family, one of blood or otherwise. Deeks saw understanding and sympathy, as well as the pain that was the reason Callen was in a position to understand and sympathise. There was no need for words, because Deeks could read it all in Callen's eyes, and Callen was letting him.
How could Deeks have forgotten that Callen also walked amongst the carnage today?
There had always been depths to Callen that Deeks knew he didn't know about, and a fair few of them he knew better than to prod, even with a ten-foot pole, which, for Deeks, was quite astounding. The shorter man had experienced so much, and perhaps this hadn't been the worst scene he'd seen. Perhaps it was one of far too many places of unspeakable violence that Callen had witnessed, maybe it hadn't been the first time he'd had to scrape together remains and tell families they'd never be whole again.
Maybe Callen had been through all this before.
Deeks straightened as best he could on the gently creaking mattress, not breaking eye contact even as he knew that Callen could read him as well as he'd read the agent. Eventually Deeks blinked, and the trance was broken, Callen looking at his face but not meeting his eye, not out of shame or discomfort, but because the two comrades had just shared something intensely personal about themselves, and the simple silence was comforting.
It was Callen's way of letting Deeks know he was not alone.
Without warning, Deeks swayed away from Callen, causing him to tilt alarmingly as the support he hadn't been aware he was relying on disappeared. A moment later, he was engulfed in a bear hug, Deeks wrapping long arms around the older man, holding him tightly, but not suffocatingly, as he'd been known to do while inebriated. It was solid and for a moment, seemed forever.
A long time had passed since such a physical gesture.
For a long moment, Callen simply held still, not quite comprehending what was happening, but as Deeks' arms shifted to a more comfortable position and loosened slightly, Callen drew the arm already around Deeks' waist tight, and embraced the detective properly, enjoying the contact and not feeling obligated to respond a certain way, merely accepting what Deeks was conveying without words.
Neither could tell how long they sat there, nor when the tears began to fall.
Only when Deeks saw the slowly spreading dark patch illuminated by the white of the streetlight diffused with the yellow lamp in Callen's living room did he realise that there were tears leaking out of his eyes, steadily soaking the agent's shirt. Instead of furtively trying to wipe away the tears, as he had earlier in the day, Deeks merely shifted position and lifted the wet patch off Callen's shoulder, not quite ready to relinquish his hold on the man that had held him steady throughout the night.
The calm in the centre of the storm. The immovable rock that withstood any weather.
Somewhere along the line, Callen had begun tracing gentle patters along Deeks' back, soothing, slow circles and swirls that calmed the both of them. Even as Deeks fell apart and then pulled himself back together, Callen rested an hand along the back of his neck with one hand, and drew on his back with the other, not even realising he was doing so for several minutes, drifting but not drowsing.
And then the moment ends, as they all do. But it was not meaningless.
Eventually, it was Callen who broke the embrace, sitting up, only to slide back toward Deeks, who'd taken the time to run a hand through his unkept hair several times in quick succession, while also wiping the tear tracks away. He was exhausted, both emotionally and physically, and wanted nothing more than to drift off enveloped by the warmth and security that emanated from Callen. But he was also sobering up, and recognised that it might not be acceptable that he fall asleep lying next to the shorter man.
It was a predicament Deeks had failed to find himself in before.
Luckily, Callen solved things for him, flopping back onto the bed and dragging Deeks with him, struggling comically with his shoes for a minute before sending them flying in two completely separate directions. Deeks was more successful, leaving his mostly side-by-side at the foot of the mattress. Callen began undoing his belt, leaving Deeks mildly alarmed, to which Callen responded with a roll of the eyes and sent the belt across the room as well.
That was all the undressing Callen was planning on for the night.
Displaying an uncharacteristically childlike side, Callen, swung his legs onto the bed and proceeded to nudge and prod Deeks over to the other side of the king double mattress, not being too gentle about where his feet ended up, the detective rolling reluctantly away from the warm patch he and Callen had established from their drunken leaning.
He was too tired to even think about all the implications he normally would have been inferring.
Once Deeks had burrowed into the covers, curling in on himself, he mumbled a goodnight to Callen, who, unsurprisingly, was positioned as straight as a board, lying on his side, facing away from Deeks. A much clearer, but no less weary sleep well reached him, as Deeks finally allowed himself to properly drift off, releasing his mind from going over and over, around and around, weaving in and out of the events of the day.
Deeks had panicked but he'd gotten through it.
The unexpected rescue by Callen had not only renewed his faith in his team, but also restored his belief that he was making a difference. Callen had taken the bad and shown Deeks how to use it, how to accept that there were things that he simply couldn't change.
But most of all, Callen had been a friend when Deeks needed one most.