Chapter 7 – Deeks

I allowed the front door to click closed behind me and breathed a sigh of relief. I don't know what came over me – offering to make babies with Kensi. Of course, it was probably the thought of making them, ahem, the old-fashioned way.

Yeah, yeah, I know, bad Deeks, don't think that way. You don't think I don't think like that every time she steps out in a revealing dress or a tiny bikini or a short skirt? I'm very good at concealing my thoughts – much better than I was before I came to work with NCIS. Not that I wasn't. It's just that Kensi has this way of making me transparent. Like she can look right through me. And she definitely knows when I'm having less than pure thoughts.

My God, I must be more transparent than I thought. This is the reason that Hetty put me into these damned tight jeans. To stop me from having those less than pure thoughts. Truthfully, they do have a way that makes a man become a little distracted from the job at hand.

I got into the car and sighed before starting it, and jumping at the stereo began to blast techno music at me.

'Kensi,' I sighed, before turning it down and changing it to my favourite rock station. I don't know how she and I work together. We're complete and utter opposites. If I have to be completely honest, she's the alpha male in our partnership, while I just tag along for the rollercoaster ride that she's inevitably leading me on. Sure, we're similar where it counts – we both had pretty screwed up childhoods that honestly sucked; my dad beat me. Hers was murdered. Safe to say, I think we both have daddy issues. And mothers – don't get me started. She hadn't seen hers for fifteen years. Mine still blames me for "ruining" our family. Yeah. Don't ask me how that works. I've given up trying to figure it out. All I did was shoot the guy who was threatening her with a shotgun, and I'm the one that ruined our family? I'm pretty sure I'm the one that saved her life.

I stopped the car outside my apartment and stepped out into the cool sea breeze. I inhaled deeply, allowing the smooth, serene scent to calm me, before locking the car and sticking the keys in my back pocket. I stepped into the lobby and checked my mail. Just a couple of bills – nothing to really worry about. I took the stairs up to my fourth-story apartment and went in, chucking the bills onto the coffee table. The air was stale, but I didn't bother opening the windows to let fresh air in. I wasn't going to be here long. I wasn't supposed to be here at all, but I wasn't about to give Nell free reign to go through my stuff in the guise of looking for my violin. And it was very carefully put away in a corner where prowling house-guests weren't likely to find it.

I opened a cupboard and dug around in it for a while, pulling out movies and books and dusty board games before finally coming to a largish cardboard box at the very back. I pulled it out and sighed, crawling over to the coffee table where I sat the box and reached into my back pocket for my pocket knife, which I used to slice open the duct tape that I'd used to seal the box shut, thinking that I'd never want to see its contents again. Of course, every time I did that, I was soon proved wrong.

I pulled out ream after ream of paper, covered in row after row of staves and clefs and crochets and quavers. I didn't recollect exactly how I'd collected so much sheet music, but finally concluded that I'd simply gathered it over time, buying sundry pieces that I thought maybe one day I might want to learn to play. Finally I found the violin, snugly packed beneath the sheet music. I pulled it out of the box and opened the case, revealing the smooth, dark wood, the raised bridge, the taut strings of the violin. The one piece of my childhood that had made any sense.

Tentatively, I reached out, and took the violin into my hands, suddenly calmed at the feeling of the instrument. I ran my fingers over the strings, as perfect as the day I'd put the violin away, and plucked one, the technique I'd once upon a time called pizzicato. It was horribly out of tune, but it still sang out as joyously as it did when I'd last taken the time to play it, which was after I'd finally finished with Max Gentry. I'd played a funeral march, feeling it fitting, and I'd played it… not badly, no, I hadn't played like a complete novice, but it was very clear that I wasn't in practise. But it had made me feel better. Just like the time I'd played it after I'd gotten out of hospital after I'd been shot, and mourned the loss of my father. Loss. Or something like that. Just like the time that NCIS saved me from human traffickers, and I found myself betrayed by the one man I thought I could trust. I'd played for Jess that night. It had hurt, both physically and mentally, but I managed to play for her, not a sorrowful song, but a hopeful one – where Jess was, was a much better place than where she'd come from.

My fingers stayed flexible and strong through my guitar playing, and my ear remained in tune and all-hearing. Playing the guitar wasn't quite like playing the violin, but I'd kept at it, mostly because I'd picked it up in one of my foster homes, and it reminded me of better times – sitting with a group of other foster kids and singing nonsense words to numerous different tunes; all at once! Making friends with the "musos" in high school and learning that I wasn't the only one who found music to be a refuge. Sitting around a campfire on a beach with a bunch of other surfers with bottles of beer and hotdogs ready to be eaten by ravenous men who had just expended their energy on the waves.

I looked over to the corner of the room, where the guitar sat on its stand, and considered slightly before shaking my head. No, concealing the violin from Kensi would be bad enough.

I wondered what she would say when she discovered it. Because, of course, I can't keep a secret from her, not even if my life depended on it. So, she probably will.

I sighed and packed up the violin, picking up the portfolio that contained my favourite music and tucking it under my arm. Time to go "home" to my "wife". I shook my head at myself. I gave it a day until she figured me out.

I got out of the car and decided to leave the instrument there until I knew the coast was clear. I strolled down the garden path, casually plucking a half-bloomed pink rosebud and admiring it, tentatively bringing it up to my nose and sniffing. It smelled pretty.

I tried the door handle, but it was locked. Frowning, I took out my key and unlocked the door, going in. 'Honey? Kensi, sweetheart, I'm home!'

No answer. Was she still asleep? I thudded upstairs and checked the bedroom. No Kensi. Bathroom. No Kensi.

The answer was by the coffee pot. A bright yellow sticky note was stuck to a mug.

'Went for a jog. Will be back around six. K. xx'

Well, that solved multiple dilemmas. I checked my watch. I had one and a half hours until Kensi came home. That gave me about an hour for practise, and I didn't want to waste a minute. I sat down in the living room and slowly tuned the violin, enjoying the familiar feel of the warm wood and tensile strings. I picked up the bow and slowly drew it across one of the strings, savouring the sound. Immediately, the memories flooded back, years of standing straight-backed in a warm sunlit room, violin tucked snugly beneath my chin, singing its plaintive tune.

I sighed and stood up, straightening my back and feeling my spine click into alignment. I allowed my shoulders to fall back, and I took a moment to breathe before tucking the violin snugly beneath my chin and beginning to play.

'I'm home, Marty!' Kensi's voice echoed through the house.

'In the kitchen,' I called back, putting down the knife I was using.

'Something smells really good.' She appeared in the doorway with a smile on her face.

'I'm glad,' I said, smiling back. 'You've got about half an hour, if you want to shower.'

'Sure. Thanks. I found a great route, by the way.'

'Yeah? Maybe you can show me tomorrow morning.'

'Sure. Did you get everything you needed?'

I remembered my excuse for going to my apartment. 'Oh, yeah. And now that you're home, I've got everything I'll ever need.'

She shook her head. 'I'm going to shower.'

'Is that an offer to join you?'

'No.' She grinned at me before turning and leaving.

I shook my head and went back to dicing up the tomatoes for the salad.

She came down fifteen minutes later and began to help me by setting the table, smiling at the table, which had a blue tablecloth draped over it, and the small pink rosebud sitting in the middle in a tiny white vase. She smoothed the tablecloth with a small gesture before putting the plates down, followed by knives and forks.

'Wine?' I asked, getting out two long stemmed glasses.

'Uh, sure.' She watched as I poured two glasses of white wine, and took one before hesitantly holding it up. 'To surviving our first day.'

I smiled and tapped her glass with mine. 'To our first day. The first of many.'

'And hopefully, just as uneventful.'

We sipped and smiled at each other.

'Hetty called while you were out. She wants to video-conference at eight.'

I nodded. 'Yup.'

'So, what's for dinner?' she asked with a grin.

'Pizza.'

'Pizza?' she asked.

'Yeah. I thought I'd show you that pizza can be healthy. It's my goal, here, to make you eat healthy for a month.'

She laughed and watched as I brought the pizza out of the oven, placing it down on the table between the rosebud and the salad.

'This is sweet,' she said, touching the delicate flower with a finger.

'Dig in,' I invited, motioning to the pizza.

She picked up a slice of pizza and delicately took a bite before wincing and putting the slice down on her plate before fanning at her mouth. 'Ah! It's hot.'

I laughed softly at her before getting up and getting her a glass of water, which she took gratefully.

'Ow,' she panted.

'It's not like a pizza you order from a shop, Kensi,' I told her gently. 'It's hot. Like, straight from the oven, hot.'

'I noticed,' she said, sipping at the water.

I smiled at her and took a bite of salad. She narrowed her eyes at me, but followed suit.

'Wow,' she said suddenly, looking at me with a grin. 'You really can cook. Who would've thunk it, Deeks?'

'Marty,' I reminded her gently. 'And I knew.'

'Yeah, but no-one believed you.'

'Until now.'

'Until now,' she agreed. 'This is amazing.'

'Thanks.'

We finished dinner and she practically glowed in excitement when I brought out desert, a double chocolate cheesecake that I'd bought while out that afternoon.

'You'd be a good husband, Deeks,' she said softly, and he noticed that her hair had dried into tiny, spiralling curls that framed her face.

'I'd glad you think so,' I replied. 'Wait – is that a proposal?'

She grinned puckishly at me. 'Maybe.'

'Am I your back-up husband?'

She shook her head. 'You're my back-up. Full stop.'

I smiled at her. 'I'd be happy to propose again, if you like. You never said yes to my first one, you know. You just put the ring on.'

She laughed at me and fiddled with the rings on her finger. 'You know, this one's a lot simpler than the one that Jack gave me.'

I took a sip of wine to moisten my suddenly dry mouth. 'What did he give you?'

'It was this ridiculously huge diamond – completely unpractical, surrounded by rubies, of all things.' She shook her head. 'I couldn't do much while wearing it. Which, I think now, was the point. I…'

Her voice faltered slightly, and I reached forward, gently brushing her fingers with mine.

'We didn't really know each other, Jack and I. You'd think that we would know each other, being engaged and all, but…' She shook her head. 'I see it now. He meant for me to just be a Marine trophy wife. Stay home. Make babies.'

I shook my head at the thought of my Kensi staying at home with the kids, cleaning and cooking. I couldn't envisage it. My Kensi needed to do things. Like kicking ass.

'I… I couldn't that, Deeks. You know I couldn't.'

'Trust me,' I said slowly. 'I can't picture you doing anything other than kicking ass, not at home.'

She smiled at me, and looked down at our almost joined hands. 'What time is it?' she asked, reaching over and looking at my watch.

'Seven fifty,' I said, watching as she swallowed the last of her wine.

'Come on, then,' she said, patting my hand. 'Time to go talk to Hetty.'

'Yup,' I said, following her out of the kitchen and up to the study, where she logged onto the secure network. Seconds later, Hetty's face popped up on the screen, and I tried to act less startled than I actually was.

'Good evening,' she said softly. A tea cup lay at her right hand.

'Hey, Hetty,' Kensi said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

'You both look well,' she noted, smiling at us.

'Exhausted after a day of greeting neighbours. I met three more while out on my run,' she informed me.

I chuckled. 'Better you than me.'

'Are you completely sure about that?' she asked.

I thought about it for a moment. 'Ooh. You make a good point.'

'So, you've been making nice with the neighbours,' Hetty surmised. 'And the Paulson's?'

'They came to us. They're nice, friendly people. There's not going to be a problem,' Kensi said before yawning widely.

'You look tired, dear,' Hetty said.

'Long day,' she replied.

'Well, don't let me keep you. I just wanted to check in with you and let you know that I'd be joining you tomorrow. Perhaps for afternoon tea.'

'We'll look forward to having you.'

Hetty nodded, and then screen went black.

'I think I might hit the hay,' she said softly.

'I might stay up a little longer. Maybe listen to some music.'

'Okay. Night, Marty.'

'Night, Kens.' I watched her leave the study before logging out of the computer and leaving myself. I waited until I was sure that she was at least in bed before retreating to the living room where I'd stashed my violin in a corner cupboard. I got it out, and not trusting my partner's bat-like hearing, retreated into the garden to practise. I got out the violin and quietly tuned it again before setting up my music stand and placing a familiar Beethoven place on it. Ironically, actually, Moonlight Sonata. The full moon was so bright that I could read it quite easily. I positioned the violin snugly beneath my chin and began to play.

Can't you imagine Deeks playing the violin? I can. I can also imagine him making a huge romantic gesture with said violin – for Kensi, of course.

Has anyone got any idea as to what music Deeks might play in a great romantic gesture? Suggestions would be wonderful, as my classical music knowledge is limited.

Now, the more observant among you will have realised that this is not a single update, nor a double update, but a triple update! So I know that you have two more chapters that you want to get on to, but I would absolutely love it if you reviewed this chapter as well, because this chapter deserves just as much love as the others…

And once you've done that – on to the next chapter!

XD PurpleHipposRock