He'd tell you that it's three days after the Cronut that is the turning point in their relationship. She'd say it was the day she bought it, paying an obscene amount of money to have it shipped express before it could get stale, all on the outside chance that it might cheer her partner up for even just a moment. She'd known for a while that she would reciprocate if he ever grew the cajones to say what he felt and instigate something. He was important. Scratch that, he was the most important person in her life. But as she called the other end of the country to order a pastry, she made a decision: if he never decided to start the conversation on how he felt, then she would start it. She'd kick her fear in the teeth, make herself vulnerable and tell him that she wanted him, wanted them, even if he still felt broken.
Three days after the Cronut is his first day back to work, and it's almost good. He's still not quite sure he'd call anything good yet—except Kensi of course. And the Cronut. Definitely the Cronut. They go for Korean after work and she devours her Bulgogi and then snitches off of his Japchae and he's pretty sure then and there that this is his last first date—and she doesn't even know it's a date.
He grabs her hand as they leave the restaurant and steers her away from the car toward a bench on the edge of a park down the street. The fact that she leaves her hand in his is not lost on him.
He's not really sure where to start, but it's come to the point where he can't imagine not saying something so he figures he'll just start and they'll get there eventually. He just hopes he doesn't end up babbling too much in the process.
"Kens," he says, turning to her and sitting them down, "I'm not really sure of much right now. Somewhere in the last few months I feel like I've lost who I was and who I wanted to be and I didn't feel like I knew what I wanted or what I could do or where I belonged anymore. "
He sees the pain flit through her eyes, and he moves his fingers to lace between hers and holds on tighter.
"The one thing I am sure of," he starts again, "is you.
"I'm sure that you're the only reason I'm getting through this. I know that when I just wanted to give up, I couldn't because I couldn't break my promise to you. When I wasn't sure that I could ever belong at OSP again, I still knew I belonged with you, if only I could just get back to you. When I didn't know if I could be the man I was, I knew that whoever I was going to be wanted you just as much as he did. When I didn't think I could let anyone in to see what was really going on in my head, I still wanted you there so much it hurt."
"Then why didn't you let me be there?" She interrupts, choking on a few tears that will not be held back. "I wanted to be there."
"I don't know Kens. My head was so messed up I didn't know which way was up. I wanted you there, but I didn't want you to see me that way, and I was convinced that I would just drag you down to the black hole that I was in.
"But you pulled me out. It's like you reached through all the crap and pulled out the things that were important and gave me a place to stand.
"And I know I'm still messed up, and no matter what I tell the guys, I know you're going to see past it and call me on my crap. And I know I need that. And I know that it's probably still not going to be easy, but I want you to know that I'm going to try as hard as I can, and I need you to know that what I'm fighting for is us-is you-because in all this crazy mess, you're still the only thing that makes sense. And as long as you're in this with me, I'm going to get through it."
Kensi lets go of his hand to put a hand firmly on each of his cheeks and holds him eye to eye with her.
"Then you're going to get through it, because I'm going to be here, and I'm going to be fighting twice as hard as you are. Because I can't lose you. Because you may be hard to live with," she smirks at him playfully, and his eyes smile back at her, "but you're a lot harder to live without, partner."
"And if I want to be more than your partner?" He needs to clarify all this because neither of them has actually said any words that definitely mean anything deeper than a really close friendship, and he knows that with their communication skills things need to be made very plain before one of them figures out how to misinterpret it.
(Though, he thinks, there are certain modes of communication that they're really good at. He likes those. A lot.)
She responds by whispering her lips across his. "Then I'd say we're on the same page."
He buries his head in the crook of her neck and wraps his arms snugly around her, and when her hand finds its way into his hair and her nails lightly scrape over his scalp, for the first time in months he can't see the darkness that has been taking over his world.