Track 10 (How You Get The Girl)
She held the frame tightly against her chest. She pulled it away, tracing her fingers around the outside edge. She loved it.
"Hey, you weren't supposed to open that without me," Deeks said, stepping back in the living room from taking Monty out. They'd decided to wait until they got home from Mammoth to mess with presents and those Christmassy things, and now here they were.
"Sorry, impatient," she replied. She turned the frame around to him, with the picture of them in the gym after playing basketball. It was blown up, cutting out the other team members. Not that they didn't love their team members, but...
She loved that picture. His arm was draped around her and they were smiling, and it was so uniquely them-before they were even them yet. And she sincerely loved it.
"I love this," she said.
"That is literally the worst gift I could have came up with," he said shaking his head.
"But it's not at all insignificant," she said, defending her gift. She sincerely loved it.
"It's a safe gift," he added quietly.
"I really don't care, Deeks. This is perfect. I don't really require fancy things, you know. This kind of thing, that's what means the most to me."
She reached under the tree and grabbed the wrapped box she'd placed there for him. She turned and tossed it at him.
"This isn't a safe gift," she added.
"Neither is this," he replied, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a tiny wrapped box and tossing it to her.
"Deeks..." she said, tentatively. "This is too much."
"No way that its too much," he rebuked.
"Well, open yours first," she said,
pointing to the box in his hand.
He slowly tore into the wrapping paper, neatly, and slipped out the box.
"Am I actually supposed to open this box or...?" he asked.
"You were supposed to open the last box."
"Touché," he added. Hesitantly, he looked around for something to slice the box open with. He looked up, to see her holding out
her knife out to him.
He grinned up at her from his spot on the couch, taking her knife and slitting open the box.
He popped open the flaps, and he looked inside.
"No. You did not," he said.
"Yes I did," she smiled.
"Kensi," he said, picking it up and flipping it over in his hands.
It was a knife, one that looked just like hers, with a slightly darker wood.
"This is, this is spectacular."
"I know," she smiled.
He leaned over and cupped her chin, pressing his lips against her.
"I've never had my own fancy knife before. It was nice having yours," he said.
"Well, you can't have mine. But this is just about as close as you can get."
"And I love it," he smirked.
"You've really got to stop that," she laughed.
"Nah," he said, pointing to her little box. "Go, from Santa."
Hesitantly, she opened the box. Knowing the picture probably didn't put him out too much money, she didn't feel too bad getting two gifts.
But jewelry was insanely expensive.
Or insanely cheap.
"Marty Deeks!" she shouted, rolling her eyes and picking up the raccoon earnings from the box. Where'd he buy these at, Claire's?
It was hilarious, actually. Of course, it was a gag. Duh.
Except it wasn't. She'd started to get up to tackle him and get started with pretty much everything they'd done in Mammoth (again), she saw that underneath the raccoon, there was her actual present. A set of crystal earrings, three hearts interlocked together.
So many metaphors.
"They were on sale, Kens. I promise they didn't cost me that much."
Her heart rate slowed, as she relaxed. Good. She inched over toward him on the couch, shoving the raccoons in his face. "These are not funny," she laughed. Except they both knew they totally were. She held up the hearts, saying, "And these are beautiful."
She buried herself in the crook of his neck, resting there and shutting her eyes. He whispered "Merry Christmas," into her her forehead. Ah, Christmas. She could get used to this type of holiday.
They stayed there for quite a while, until he too started to feel a little sleepy.
"You staying tonight?" he asked.
"Planned on it, but I forgot a change of clothes."
"I've got an oversized tee and sweat pants, if you wanna claim 'em."
"Sure," she said, nuzzling in deeper into his chest.
"Second drawer on the right, before you get too comfy."
She pulled herself up off of him with a frown. She just wanted to get changed quickly so that she could get back to him.
She stepped into his bedroom. It was such an intimate touch to the whole thing, her in his bedroom, wearing his old clothes. Like, what was this? When did she become a hopeless romantic?
She pulled open the drawer, finding the clothes he'd described. As she pulled them out of the drawer, a wad of papers fell out. She reached down to pick them up, but caught a few words that caught her attention.
Cornflower blue.
And at that point, reading it became very necessary.
Goodness gracious, what was this?
With the clothes tucked under her arm, she took the whatever it was in with her to the living room.
"What is this?"
Deeks sat up, turned around, and made eye contact with her.
"Um..."
"Deeks..."
He had a daze in his eyes. It was like he was shaking in utter fear. She'd found it.
"That's just you know, my thing." Come on, man. You've been with her for the past few days. You've shown her how into this, into her, that you are. Tell her. Be bold. "When we started being partners, I started this list. Small things. I wanted you to like me, you know? We were always arguing and it really wasn't either of our faults, but I still didn't handle not being liked very well. I thought maybe, if I could prove that I cared to remember dumb things like how you liked your coffee or your favorite take out, then maybe you would tolerate me. Maybe we could have been better partners. Then, the years went by, I went from wanting to be your friend to falling in love with you, and the list went from coffee and take out to your favorite color and what your hair smells like and the way you look at me when you're really not mad but you're pretending that you are."
"I don't understand," she said, shaking her head. She did understand, but she wasn't ready to admit it.
"Don't take it the wrong way. Its not like a shrine to you or anything. It didn't start that way and I didn't intend for you to know about it. It wasn't a 12 step 'How You Get The Girl' program, Kensi Blye addition. It was just my way of getting to know you."
"But you kept it going."
"Old habits die hard."
"Deeks."
She didn't like what this meant. Or did she? Did she even know? No. She didn't. It meant he cared. Of course, she knew he cared. But this was an intense feeling. Knowing he cares is different than feeling he cares, and she's felt a lot of his love these past few days. But there's also something about holding physical proof in her hands, in the form of his gifts and this list, that he's cared for quite some time.
He's cared longer than she has. He's cared about how she didn't necessarily trust him in the beginning. He's cared since it was a gun thing. He's cared probably since her name was Tracy.
Sure, she's not giving herself any credit. She may not have been smitten as Callen had predicted, but she was stuck on Wyler. And it didn't take all too long before she was declaring him as the only one she trusted. She was just surprised that through all this time, here she was, standing in his living room after enjoying herself a nice little Christmas. Standing in his living room getting ready to throw on his old shirt and her long forgotten sweatpants (and a Superwoman sports bra, which she had not discovered yet, one he'd decided to replace after hers was taken into evidence after being used in that op so many months ago), she never saw herself listening to him explain how long he's been falling for her.
She handed him the list. "You gotta tell me what you want."
"Huh?" he asked.
"We've been afraid. But we're ready. And this list has plenty of holes. What do you want? What do you need to finish it?"
"Its not something to be finished, Kens. Its just a thing I started. Its just, I want to commit it all to memory. Keep a record. The list isn't how I remember everything about you. It just happened. It's proof that you're not a cover story, you're not just an agent. You're Kensi. I just want the girl, and I'll take whatever the girl comes with. I just want you. I don't need this list. I just need you. At the end of the day, I just need you."
He set the list down on the coffee table, but she picked it up and folded the sheets into quarters and shoved it into his front jeans pocket, smiling. Her touch was electric.
"Keep your list. You win."
"I win?" he asked, trying not to think about where her hands had just been.
"Yeah, you win," she said, walking towards the bathroom. "I am so insanely romanced by everything you just said and I can't stand it."
"Lacy lady side!" he called as she shut his bathroom door. He chuckled to himself for a moment, until he heard her shout his name again.
"Deeks!"
Before he could reply, the bathroom door flew open and an item of clothing was flung at him, hitting him in the face, as he heard the door shut again. He twitched his nose and picked it up off of the floor.
Superwoman sports bra.
Through his chuckling, he heard her say, "we won't be needing that."