Author's note: I still don't own anything and I'm still very very thankful for my friend and Beta, Jen.
Kensi didn't need to look at the screen to know that it was Deeks calling; he had toyed with her phone weeks ago and programmed The Beach Boys as his personal ring tone. California Girls. She stifled a grin, still amused by the blatantly flirty message behind his song selection.
She thumbed the screen of her cell and cradled it against her shoulder, continuing to type the report that Hetty had made clear was to be finished before she left for the night.
"Did you do your chores?" She asked by way of greeting.
"No. Yes. What?" He stuttered, and she could visualize him frowning at his phone as he tried to navigate around what he had planned on saying and to the answer to her question. "Kens, some delivery kid just showed up with what appears to be a metric ton of groceries."
"Yeah."
"I didn't order groceries."
"Nope. I did," she replied as she keyed a few more words into her report.
"You-"
She sighed and broke her gaze from the screen and promptly cut off what she knew to be a protest. "Deeks, your fridge contained the sum total of three-weeks-past-expired orange juice that I'm shocked had not eaten through the carton, a very pathetic looking wrinkly apple and two Monster drinks - you're cut off, by the way. You ate the last of the bread this morning for toast and the milk is gone after our coffee. Other than that jar of jam, you were officially out of food."
Deeks glanced at the grocery bags littering his counter and he sighed, knowing she had a point and that her intentions were in the right place. He hated being babied but he could not deny that he would have done exactly the same thing if their roles had been reversed.
"You would have done the same thing," she said softly.
Should I love or hate the fact that she lives in my head? He knew she mistook his silence for anger and her words held a trace of defensiveness.
"Thank you." He grinned as he spoke the words and hoped she could hear his appreciation in his tone. For someone who knew his next words more frequently than not, they spent so much time with crossed wires. Too much time. "Um, you don't cook, Kens. Exactly what will I find in here?" He peeked into one of the bags.
Kensi shrugged and couldn't keep the abashed tone from her voice. "Nell helped."
"Tell her I said thanks," Deeks chuckled, reaching into the brown paper bag and pulling out a bakery box. "Ok, Nell's awesome, but there's no way she's responsible for these! A half-dozen Cronuts?"
Kensi felt her cheeks heat ever so slightly at his acknowledgement. "Deeks, I'm going to be really pissed if you don't save one for me. The delivery guy had to make an extra stop to pick those up."
Deeks paused, the box still held carefully in his hand. "I'll save you one. Are you coming over to get it? Or do I need to call the delivery guy back and send it to OSP?"
"I can come by," she said after a pause. I can come by. I want to come by. I want to see you - to know you're ok. Her mind spun, trying to come to terms with how badly she wanted to spend another night watching him get some much needed rest. "If you want me to."
Deeks set the box on the counter and looked around his apartment. He still hadn't tackled the list of chores Kensi had left. He had finally felt well enough to pick up Monty from the kennel and they had spent the afternoon walking around the block and playing fetch in the dog-park. He felt both refreshed and exhausted at the same time.
"If you come over, I'll trade you a cronut for help with my chores."
"Deeks!" She barked, pulling the phone away from her ear long enough to glare at the screen - as if her piercing look would wither him across the line. "Do your own damned chores!"
He chuckled. "Fine. But help me cook dinner?"
She rolled her eyes despite the grin that had settled across her features. "You can cook your own dinner, too," she barked, but she knew he heard the softness in her tone.
"Fine. You'd just burn down my kitchen anyway."
"Goodbye, Deeks," she huffed, trying not to chuckle while he could still hear.
"Later, Fern."
She heard the line disconnect and couldn't help but stare at the screen for a moment.
Fern. He hadn't called her Fern in months. Despite her protests, she not-so-secretly loved the pet name. And he knew it.
She swiped the screen on her phone to prompt it back to life and after the briefest hesitation, jabbed out a text.
'Fern' can swing by as soon as these case reports are done and turned in to Hetty.
Touch my Cronut and you'll regret it.
She managed to knock out a few more lines on her report before her phone chirped.
Her screen flashed: Deeks: Don't forget the French Maid's costume.
Kensi rolled her eyes and quickly rattled off a reply.
Pick one: French Maid, Personal Body-PIllow, or Partner. I can be ONE.
It was dangerous territory even to jokingly offer him the option of "French Maid." It wasn't that she'd actually wear the costume; there was no chance in hell. More concerning was that he might actually pick that over what she thought to be her most important role: partner.
His reply was immediate.
Deeks: None of the above. I pick best friend.
She shook her head and did nothing to hide the smile on her lips. The reports weren't going to write themselves and the longer she procrastinated, the longer it would be before she could go check on Deeks.
And enjoy her cronut.
