Author's note: Thanks again for the lovely reviews and alerts! Works GREAT as motivation to write, and certainly spurred me today. This chapter got hold of me and wouldn't let go until it was all done
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one, but I do promise to put everyone back when I'm done playing with them. :)
"Come on, sweetheart." Julie Lawrence took her husband by the hand. "Let's don't keep these nice ladies waiting on us."
"Right behind you, babe." Mike Lawrence picked up both their bags with his free hand and then, with a final smile at the boarding agents, followed his wife to the gangway.
"Aren't they sweet?" sighed one of the boarding agents.
"Newlyweds. Think they'll always act like that?" her more cynical colleague asked. "They'll be arguing and bickering just like the rest of us in 6 months."
"I don't know. Did you see the way she was looking at him? And him…oh, he was a yummy one."
"Whatever. In 6 months she'll be complaining about how he snores and he'll be comparing her unfavorably to his mother." The second agent finished up with the flight records and closed her netbook with a decided snap. "Nobody can maintain that level of lovey-dovey for long. Come on, let's get ready for the next flight."
On board the plane, Kensi sank down into her assigned seat. They'd spent the better part of the last 48 hours preparing to go under cover, and sleep hadn't been high on anyone's list of priorities. Julie Lawrence was about as deep as a kiddy pool, and her sole contribution to the betterment of mankind was an inclination to join all the latest causes—and by join, she meant throwing money at them. She had also, despite Kensi's best intentions, developed a tendency to giggle. Kensi could already tell that Julie was going to be exhausting. She was hoping to grab a few hours on the flight over to Hawaii, but with things still so tense between her and Deeks she wasn't sure she could relax enough to even grab a catnap.
She watched as Deeks stowed both of their bags in the overhead bin. He settled into the seat next to hers and smiled at her. Reaching out for her hand, he linked his fingers with hers, then lifted her hand and pressed a soft kiss on each knuckle. She knew it was part of the cover, knew it was an act, and even so she couldn't prevent her breath from catching or her hand from trembling. She only hoped Deeks couldn't feel it. That would be a disaster.
No more disastrous than this op is likely to be if I can't get it together. She tried to dismiss the thought as she turned to look out the window. The late afternoon sunshine cast a warm glow over the gleaming towers of LAX, and she wished she was leaving under different circumstances. She had a fleeting regret that she hadn't taken Deeks up on his offer to accompany her to Hawaii just after Christmas. That trip would have had a completely different result if she'd ended it by playing on the beach with Deeks instead of holing up in a hotel room after a completely unsuccessful effort to follow the lead Joe had ferreted out for her. If nothing else, Deeks always had the power to pull her out of herself. Get her out of her own headspace. Whether it was poking and picking at her or dragging her out to the beach or just hanging out with her on the sofa while they watched something on tv, he seemed to know just what to do. Without him running interference on her emotional state the last few weeks, she'd found depression settling more heavily on her shoulders than she was used to. Or at least, more heavily than it had been since Deeks came along.
That's what my life would be like without him. That, all the time. It was a sobering thought, and one she couldn't dismiss. Without him, life would be an endless cycle of job and home, eat and sleep. Before she'd been assigned Deeks as a partner she'd had the outlet of clubbing and mindless dancing with the occasional one nighter, but she didn't think she could go back to that now. Not now that she knew what the alternative could be. Not after having had Deeks in her life.
She started as Deeks reached across her, whirling away from the window and meeting blue eyes only a few inches from her own. Gaze neutral, he said, "Time to buckle up." He buckled her seat belt for her as she held her breath, then he sat back in his own seat.
The plane began to taxi into position, and Kensi leaned her seat back and closed her eyes before she could do something really stupid, like cry.
She woke some time later, lying in almost total darkness and unsure exactly where she was. The quiet vibration of the seat beneath her and the slight breeze of canned air tickling her hair brought it all back—the mission, her cover, and of course the terrible fight with Deeks. She started to turn and see where he was when she realized her seat cushion was warm and unusually muscular, and that it wasn't canned air tickling her hair.
Deeks' arm was curved around her, holding her close, and her face was nestled into the crook of his neck. The first class seats Hetty had purchased under half-hearted protest were a whole lot roomier than the coach Kensi was used to, and she realized that the arm between their seats had been folded up completely so that her body could lie fully against Deeks, with one of her legs thrown over his. Her palm was laying flat on his chest, and she could feel the steady thud of his heart and his deep, even breathing. Thankful he was still asleep, she closed her eyes again and nestled closer, enjoying the fragrance of sunshine and man that was uniquely Deeks.
It felt incredibly good, lying there next to him. She felt warm and protected. Safe. Cherished, even. She realized anew how much she missed him. Not just the beer and the donuts, but him. She had a family in the team at OSP, and she knew they cared about her just as she cared about them, but the relationship she'd had with Deeks was special. She'd been like a sister to Sam and Callen, and they'd treated her with care and affection, but she'd always been a third to their duo. Dom had been a great kid, but they'd never had time to fully develop a partners bond, and no one else she'd worked with prior had ever even gotten close.
But Deeks had been different. From the first the two of them had thrown sparks off each other. She'd been the cautious one, trying to hold him off, keep him at arms length. Keep him from getting too close. Keep him from getting inside. But somehow he'd gone and done it anyway. He'd been so different from anything she'd been used to—more open, more forgiving, less tense and strained. More fun. Oh, he had his demons; they all did, and they'd used those demons to their benefit. Callen had turned his past into drive and focus. Sam had turned his into a nurturing nature underneath a beastly physique. Kensi's demons became a competitive spirit and an unwillingness to accept defeat, and Deeks….Deeks had turned his into an easy-going personality and natural friendliness that set people at ease and made him innately likable. And somehow he'd used it all—the sparks and the easy-going and the friendliness—and he'd wormed his way inside her heart. Taken up so large a part of it that she wasn't sure how she'd survive without it. Without him.
"Oh God, Deeks," she whispered, fingers tracing across his chest in a feather light caress. "I wish I could…I don't know what I'm…" She stopped and swallowed hard. "I'm so sorry." She struggled with herself for a moment, both tempted by the desire to cry it all out in the warmth of his embrace and horrified at the prospect of Deeks waking up to a weeping partner with whom he was currently not speaking outside of the case. She stifled the unwanted tears and closed her eyes, then turned her face into his neck a little more. She let his nearness and the comfort of his arm around her back soothe her until she'd relaxed back into sleep once more.
Once he was sure she was asleep again, Deeks took a long hard breath himself.
He hadn't been surprised when she'd fallen asleep almost as soon as the plane had taken off. She'd been running on fumes for days now. Even though they weren't currently spending much time together, he knew her well enough to read the signs. Not eating and not sleeping, not allowing herself to wind down after work. He knew her dad's death was weighing on her, knew that Granger was riding her pretty hard. He wondered how much their estrangement was adding to her burden, and how often she thought of him on those sleepless nights. Or if she did at all.
He'd waved off the flight attendant when she'd approached—every time she'd approached—about a drink or a snack or whatever else the woman wanted to offer. He'd wanted Kensi to get as much sleep as possible. And he hadn't moved when her head had slid across the seat and onto his shoulder, almost as if she'd been seeking him. He'd taken the opportunity to study her face, noting the dark circles under her eyes and the lines of strain etched about her mouth. She needed rest and relaxation, sun and surf. And while they were going to be spending time in paradise, it wasn't likely she'd get time for either in the middle of a case. His lips tightened, and he told himself not to worry. She wasn't his problem any more.
But it became harder for him not to think about her as the flight progressed. Slowly but surely she kept encroaching onto his territory. First her head laying on his shoulder, then she nestled closer and snuggled into his neck. One hand trailed over onto his chest, the other tucked behind his arm. He'd finally had to finesse the shared arm between their seats up and behind them because he was afraid it was digging into her belly, and her leg had ended up entwined around one of his. At that point he'd given up and asked the flight attendant for a blanket, then thrown it over the two of them and turned out their light. And if his arm had stolen around her and pulled her even closer, he told himself it was to anchor her and keep her from flailing all over him even as he'd known deep down there was more to it than that.
He should have known sleep would be impossible. He'd given up after a few minutes, knowing there was no way he'd be able to close his eyes and nod off with Kensi snuggled up against him, not after everything that had happened in the past weeks. His free hand covered hers laying on his chest, and he'd used his other to begin stroking her hair away from her face, tenderly smoothing it down her back. She'd murmured something incoherent and inched even closer. He told himself it was just to keep her from waking up and filling their space with the awkwardness and tension that developed whenever the two of them were alone, but deep down he acknowledged the truth. He missed his partner, missed the special bond between them. Missed what they'd had. Or what he'd thought they had. His mouth tightened and his hands stilled as he reminded himself exactly how it had all ended. Kensi, storming into the gym. Hitting the bag. Hitting him. And then the stream of brutal nastiness that had tumbled out of her mouth. Callen's words had gone a long way toward making Deeks realize that he wasn't the problem, but it hadn't alleviated his anger towards Kensi at all.
Almost as if she sensed something, Kensi began to move restlessly, and he forced himself to lay there in the dark, breathing slow and even and eyes closed. He knew exactly when she woke up, knew just how long it took her to understand where she was and who was holding her. But she didn't react as he expected. She didn't pull away or push him away. Instead, as he lay there, he felt the almost imperceptible flutter of her fingers stroking his chest. As fragile and as light as a butterfly's wings, the tiny caress was unutterably sweet, coming as it did in the dark of the night after a long two week's distance. Then she began to speak, her voice whisper-soft and barely audible.
"Oh God, Deeks." He had to force himself to breathe normally, force himself not to react to the whispered words. "I wish I could…I don't know what I'm…" She stopped and swallowed hard. "I'm so sorry."
And that was that. She nestled back into his neck, her fingers now grasping his shirt as if she could hold him there in place. It took a little longer this time, but eventually she fell asleep once more. He pulled the blanket up over her shoulders, his own eyes staring blindly into the darkness.
But for the first time in two long weeks, he felt a faint stirring of hope that maybe this whole ugly mess could be resolved.
And maybe, just maybe, he'd get his partner back.
Kensi woke at first light, feeling more rested than she'd felt in days. She was still lying curled into Deeks, and she took a brief moment to enjoy the sensation. But others were stirring in the plane, and she didn't want him to wake and find her draped all over him. She withdrew her hand, pulled her leg gently over his, and then pushed herself upright slowly. He lay there after she'd moved away, and she took the opportunity to study his features. He looked relaxed in sleep, and the disorder of his blonde curls made him appear curiously boyish. She wanted to reach over and touch him, longed to gently move a stray lock of hair back in place or lay her hand against that sculpted, scruffy jaw. But she couldn't. So instead she turned and righted herself in her seat, then opened the window shade. The sunlight must have awakened Deeks, and she felt him moving his own seat upright.
The flight attendant began pushing the breakfast cart up the narrow aisle, and Kensi settled back into her role. "Good morning, sweetie" she trilled, expecting Deeks to respond as Mike—affable, slightly dim, good-natured and naïve. Instead, Deeks met her gaze squarely.
"Good morning, sunshine," he said, a hint of a smile playing about his lips and a warm gleam in his eyes.
The flight attendant stopped next to Deeks before she had a chance to formulate a response, which was a good thing given her total inability to process what he'd said. Had that been Mike or Deeks talking? It had sounded like Deeks, and "Sunshine" was certainly one of Deeks' morning nicknames for her. Had he meant it, or was it just an early morning slip of the tongue? She sat still, doubtful and confused and hopeful all at the same time.
Deeks either sensed her bewilderment or thought Mike would take care of Julie, because a steaming, fragrant croissant and a small dish of fruit suddenly appeared on her tray table. Over normal morning pleasantries, they both slipped back in character, and Kensi tried to convince herself she must have imagined that Deeks had done or said anything unusual.
But deep down inside no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't keep a flicker of hope from springing into life.
Maybe somehow, some way, she might get her partner back.