When she lets herself in, Deeks is on the couch, looking sleepy-eyed but alert. There's a bottle of water in front of him and a beer at the other end of the table.
Kensi drops the bag of food on the couch and leans down to kiss him, quickly, because she's starving.
"Look at you being all responsible," she says.
"Told you I can take care of myself."
She nods and rolls her eyes ceiling-ward as she takes her seat at the other end of the couch. With her back to the arm she crosses her legs and pulls her burrito out of the bag and into her lap.
"Did you find something for lunch?" she asks before taking a massive bite of her burrito.
Deeks grabs his own burrito and says, "Your freezer is full of Hungry Man Dinners."
Kensi nods, mouth full.
"You're not a man."
"Give me a break, Deeks, I work hard and I have a fast metabolism."
He shrugs his eyebrows and grins, taking a bite and tapping his cheek at the same time. Kensi grabs a napkin and wipes sour cream off her face. She scrunches up her nose and Deeks rocks slightly in a silent laugh.
"Thanks for dinner," Deeks says when they're finished. He smiles down the couch and Kensi leans back and pats her belly.
"These are not dinner jeans," she says.
He looks her over from head to toe and grins, then asks, "Do you want to borrow something?"
"Um…" She eyes him carefully, checking for ulterior motives. He looks essentially angelic (suspicious in itself) and her jeans are making it hard to breathe so she says, "Sure."
Deeks closes his eyes and puts out his hand, pointing to the left and then down. Kensi watches him incredulously until he opens his eyes and says, "Left side, third drawer from the top."
Kensi beams and hops up off the couch. "Neat trick." When she comes back into the room she's rolling the waist of a pair of gray sweatpants, before pulling the drawstring as tight as possible.
Then she looks up, shy, and sees Deeks watching her. "This cannot be sexy."
But his eyes are on the thin strip of skin revealed between her form-fitting t-shirt and the oversized sweat pants. He bites his lip on a smile and shakes his head, then holds out his arms and says, "C'mere."
Kensi walks over to kneel again over his lap. She smiles when she gets there, cupping his jaw with both hands. "God, I missed you."
Deeks grins uncontrollably, that open-mouthed grin that cuts right through the tangles in Kensi's stomach.
She kisses him then, wrapping her arms around his neck and remembering that sad look he wore so often just a couple weeks ago. She kisses him to erase that look, not just from his eyes but from their memories and their future. She kisses him like she's drowning and he's her air. That's what it feels like, most of the time.
Some things passed her by, oblivious, but some things stick in her mind.
Are you in love with your partner?
Why would you—you're just his partner.
And then: That's not true. The way he said it, like maybe he'd been talking all along and she'd had her ears stopped to any of it.
It was his eyes that said it, and that was what—eventually, finally—cracked her open. Things go unsaid, but there's always a breaking point—if things are ever going to move forward. Finally, she asked for what she wanted, and he answered. Maybe it had been that simple all along.
She kisses him because she loves him, his stupid puppy dog face and his stupid shaggy hair and his stupid humor that almost always makes her smile. He's a complete idiot and one of the greatest men she's ever known and she loves him, she does.
She kisses him and then they break apart and look one another in the eye. She can feel the soppy affection in her gaze and she thinks she sees the same in him.
She hasn't been soppy in nearly a decade and it takes a great effort now, but she trusts Deeks more than anyone else, barring maybe her mom, so who else could she possibly show herself to?
So she whispers, looking in his eyes, "I love you, Deeks," and immediately the look on his face makes her wonder why she would ever be afraid.
He murmurs, "I love you, Kens," and kisses her again.
Every kiss they have, it seems, holds relief and gratitude and sheer adoration. They waited so long. Why did they wait so long?
It's sweet, this kissing without agenda or potential, kissing just to kiss. It reminds Kensi of junior high, but without the terror.
At one point, Deeks stops her and says, "I'm sorry we can't—" and Kensi smiles half a sweet smile and shakes her head, weaving her fingers through Deeks's hair. She tugs a bit and tilts her head, saying softly, "I like this."
"It's not how I normally do things…" he says, but he seems halfway to the conclusion Kensi has already reached.
"That's more us, though, isn't it?" Her question lilts uncertainly; she doesn't have the confidence to say this thing boldly, not just yet.
Deeks's hands tighten on her waist, spanning the curve of it from ribcage to pelvis. He doesn't pull her too close, for obvious and less obvious reasons.
"It is pretty us, isn't it?" He smirks, not cocky but pleased. "But you know, once I'm cleared…"
Kensi squirms a little. "Yeah. Don't go there."
Deeks smiles quietly and bends forward just slightly to kiss Kensi softly, cementing the pleasure of a simple kiss.
Then she moves to his good side and they spend the rest of the night watching reality TV. Deeks takes a pill and passes out shortly, though when Kensi tries to slip away, he wakes up enough to tighten his arm around her and say, "Hey."
Night is falling outside, and she pushes against him gently. "Baby. Should I go sleep at home?"
"That sounds like a terrible idea," he slurs, so she stays. There will come a time where she sets boundaries and maintains balance, but let's be real, now is not that time. She is still insanely grateful he's alive, feeling protective and wanting to take care of him, so she wraps her arms tight around the uninjured parts of him and settles in for another night on the couch.
Just as she's drifting off he murmurs, "Maybe tomorrow we can sleep in a bed," and she grins ridiculously huge before forcing herself to chill out and go to sleep.
This goes on for days: Kensi goes to work and Deeks microwaves meals, sleeps a lot, reads some. Kensi comes home with food and they while away the evening.
(That second day, she sent Hetty to the hospital with a colour tablet loaded with books and movies she thought he'd like. A tool that only required one or two functioning fingers seemed perfect at that point. She asked Hetty not to tell him who it was from but Hetty wouldn't claim it and it's not hard to guess. At least if she couldn't be there to help pass the hours, she could help in other ways.
These days on the couch, sometimes one of them will read to the other; Deeks shows her his favourite games; they don't mention the provenance of the device. Not everything has to be said aloud.)
Deeks starts taking Monty for leisurely walks and by the fifth day, he stops taking the pain medication altogether.
They start sleeping in his bed. Deeks lays flat on his back—no twisting or turning, no bending—and Kensi curls carefully into his side. It's so nice to be in a bed again, to be able to stretch out, but it's even nicer to be together, to sleep together.
They each think the same thing: when Deeks is better, they'll figure out a balance. This is temporary. This—this clinging, cloying, codependent attachment—is only for this transition period. They swear to it, in their own minds.
Kensi reminds herself that nothing lasts, everyone leaves. She doesn't have to remind herself, because the belief has been a part of her for years, decades. Normally she wouldn't let this happen—let herself get so close to someone, dangerously close, well within the perimeter of "it will destroy you (if) (when) if he leaves." She's trying to believe, she's making lists of all the reasons she should believe, but how can she not be afraid? After everything she's been through.
When her mother returned to her life, it began a process of Kensi learning how to let people in instead of guarding, blocking, pushing them out. Obviously, it was not quick, and it was not easy. But it led to this.
As long as she and Deeks are together she gets it, it all makes sense. It's when they are apart—when she`s working, mostly, and trying to figure out how it will all fit together—that she wonders what in the hell she is doing.
But it`s Deeks. That`s what she keeps coming back to. That would have been the exact reason to run a year, two years ago. But it's Deeks, now, and she knows Deeks now. Not perfectly, but she knows him. And that is what tells her this is going to be okay. It's Deeks.
That Saturday, Deeks has his post-discharge check-up. Kensi drives him and waits in the car, radio on, tapping her fingers on the wheel not in time to the music but to the beat of her nerves.
Deeks comes out grinning, leans across the gear shift to kiss her without saying a word. Kensi is powerless to resists, weakens at the taste of him.
When she pulls away, she says, "Well?"
Deeks grins, again. "I'm cleared for light yard work and putting, but not driving."
Mouth twisting, Kensi tries to figure out whether that is supposed to be a double-entendre. She doesn't much care.
"Great," she says, and shifts into gear.
She takes them back to her place for the first time since that first night. She's come home to shower and dress for work but Deeks has stayed mostly in his own apartment. It made more sense, then, but now she wants to be in her space. For them to be together in her space.
Kensi has helped him change his bandages, has checked his wounds for him, and in many ways that brought a new intimacy to their relationship.
But as they circle her apartment now, as Kensi carefully leaves the length of a room between them, she knows it's about to change. They've exchanged words of love, kissed, been as close as it's possible to be with clothes on. They didn't want to approach anything more when Deeks was still so potentially delicate.
Not that Deeks was ever really delicate. He watches her now from across the room, quiet and patient with those eyes of his trained on her.
"Do you want a beer?" he asks quietly, and Kensi drops her head and shakes it. She sees him lick his lips, swallow hard, and he says, "We don't have to—"
"No," Kensi says.
"It's just an arbitrary—"
"No," she says again.
We've gone too far to turn back now, anyway, she thinks, and that doesn't seem like a good reason to do anything. You love him, she thinks. This isn`t going to change anything. Look at him. He loves you.
And when she looks at his sad eyes now, that's all she sees. Love. She wants to stop making him sad. She wants to stop denying herself exactly what she wants just because she's scared.
On that thought she pushes off, walks steadily across the room. When she reaches him she slips her fingers up under the hem of his shirt, down just past the waistband of his jeans, and she tugs.
Caught off balance, Deeks take a step forward. His leg passes her hip and his arms go snug around her waist and suddenly she's right between his legs and Deeks's breathing changes.
"I can't live my life afraid," she says, and he says, "Okay," back, his voice gone high.
She looks him in the eyes, the backs of her fingers against his abs, and he tries so hard to focus, to keep his eyes from dropping to her lips, but it's a losing battle and she takes pity on him, kissing him now with every filthy thought in her mind. He groans and his hands slip down to her ass, pulling her hips closer to him.
If this were a romantic comedy (not that Kensi watches those) (except with her mom) she would wrap her legs around Deeks's waist and he would carry her to the bed. But it isn't, and Deeks is still hurt, so she takes him by the hand and leads him into the bedroom.
The bed is neatly made, a rarity in Kensi-land, but she hasn't been in it in nearly a week. She pushes him gently back onto the bed, then kneels over his hips and slides his shirt up his abdomen, slowly, studying him. The sight of the bruising causes a flash of that fear in her belly and she lays her palm gently over it, kisses around the edges. When Deeks groans, she looks up and smirks, pulling the shirt off over his head.
As soon as she's done that, Deeks pushes off the bed with his hands into a sitting position. Kensi is in his lap and he makes quick work of her top, taking her bra with it.
It's pretty impressive, and Kensi says "Wow" before she can stop herself.
There's only a second for Kensi to begin feeling exposed before Deeks brings their torsos together and kisses her. She gets used to the air on her bare skin, the slight friction of his chest against her nipples, so when he lowers his head to nibble at her neck and at the same time brings his hands up to gently cup her breasts, she's ready and arches into him.
Breathless, her neck angled to allow him access, Kensi says, "Your jeans."
"Your jeans," Deeks replies, and she swats at his bicep.
"Five four three two one naked?" she asks and Deeks pulls away—reluctantly—and nods like an excited puppy dog.
They go to opposite corners, strip off their remaining clothes, then run back and hop on the bed. Kensi curls into an upright ball, ankles tight together, while Deeks sits cross-legged on the bed, his penis standing up and waving at her.
He seems to have no body shame and Kensi both loves him and hates him for it. She herself knows she has a bangin' body—how many times, after all, have they used her sexual attractiveness on a job? That doesn't give her pause at all—but being here with Deeks, naked, is different.
They eye each other across the bed for a moment or two, and then Deeks reaches over, extending his legs and taking Kensi by the upper arms. She lets her limbs loosen up and Deeks pulls her toward him. He lays out flat on the bed and lays Kensi out flat on top of him.
Despite (or maybe along with) his penis pressing into her hip, the full-body press grounds her and reminds her why she's there.
She allows herself a moment to simply squish on him, then plants her left hand by his shoulder and levers herself up, using her right hand to sweep the hair out of her face. He's waiting cautiously for her reaction, and when she grins at him he grins back with his mouth hanging open. It does her so good to see him happy, and she kisses him then. She pushes off the bed with one foot to slide further up his body, and the friction makes him groan. She smiles against his lips and sneaks one hand down to wrap around him.
He whines, just a little, from the back of his throat, and Kensi laughs against him, pulling back to reach over to her nightstand for a condom. She hasn't had sex in more than a year, but she's always been the type to prepare.
She sits up on his thighs—and for a moment, she pauses to search his eyes. There's the strain, the desire, but above all, and the reason he's holding himself so still and silent, there is the love. She sees it as clearly as if it were written in his irises.
So she sheds her fear, her self-consciousness, and splits her focus between his eyes and the feel of him inside of her.
It works—boy does it work—and at the end they cling together, on their sides. Deeks reaches down to pull the blanket up over their shoulders, and Kensi sighs against his chest.
"I hope that's a happy sigh," Deeks says, his voice rumbling through her.
"It's an… I-can't-believe-I'm-so-in-love-with-my-partner sigh," she replies, and he squeezes her a little tighter.
She frees an arm, pinned between their chests, to inch over his back, trying to memorize the bones and muscles, the parts of him she was never allowed to see.
Her life has changed now, she knows that. Deeks will never be "just" her partner again, and she thinks to herself: That happened a long time ago. They didn't mark it, didn't name it—went to great lengths not to name it, but it was there. Deeper. Farther.
She trusts him with her life, and over the years, over the relentless flirting and serious puppy-dog eyes, she's been learning to trust him with her heart. She knows she does, now. There's no doubt in her mind or fear in her gut, not about him. He's Deeks. A year ago that would have meant something completely different. Now it means that he's hers and she's his and until or unless something changes, that's how it's going to be.
She runs her hand up his back to his neck and scratches her fingers into the hair on the back of his head.
"It's still Saturday?" she asks, and he hums in response. "My mama has family dinners on Sunday. You'll come, won't you?"
She can feel the instant he stills, holds his breath—and she's holding hers, too.
He moves his own hand up to cup the back of her head and tilts her so he can see her eyes. For a minute he just looks, and then he says, "You're sure?" and the trepidation in his voice makes her heart seize.
"Absolutely one hundred percent certain," she says, holding his eyes, and instantly they crinkle with the grin taking over his face.
"What should we bring?" he asks gleefully, and Kensi presses her forehead to his chest.
"I don't care, but you aren't using my kitchen."
THE END
