What follows is pure self-indulgence and highly gratuitous. No change there then. Hey, it's Friday after all, and I had two mind-numbing days of sitting in court this week, so I reckon I deserve this. And so do you!

Normally, they ate most meals in the kitchen, but tonight Kensi had pulled out all the stops and was using the dining room. The table was laid with a snowy white cloth and the room shimmered with the soft glow from a dozen candles.

"Wow. You've really pulled out all the stops." Marty picked up the bottle of wine, read the label and let out a low whistle. "Okay – what's the occasion?" He frantically ran through dates in his mind, wondering what he missed. No, it's not her birthday, and it's not our wedding anniversary either. It's not even the anniversary of the day we got engaged. It was actually a really good idea to propose on thanksgiving, because I won't ever forget that date. Marty conveniently ignored the fact that Thanksgiving moved from one year to the next. And it's definitely not my birthday, not unless I've lost a couple of months. What the hell have I forgotten?

"There's no special occasion," Kensi said sweetly, which made him instantly suspicious.

It's one of these anniversaries only women understand, isn't it? Like the day we first met, or our first date. And exactly what was our first date? I think we slept together about twenty times before we actually went out somewhere together. Crap. That sounds really bad, doesn't it? We're going to have to think of some convincing story to tell Densi when he's old enough, otherwise it's going to sound like we just looked at each other one day and then pulled each other's clothes off and had mad, passionate sex. Which is actually what happened. Four times. We are so sunk. How can we tell him that? Still, we've got a few years to come up with a different version of events. And we're good at making up backstories. We actually get paid for lying, after all.

"No reason – you're sure?" Marty tried hard not to sound panicked and wasn't entirely sure that he'd been successful.

"I just thought we should spend some proper time together. Things have been a bit chaotic around here." And Nell sent me a photo she'd taken on her cell this morning. Damn, you looked fine in those shorts! And I bet all the women at the clinic thought so too. Not that I think you'd actually do anything – but still…

"It's great. Kind of like a date night, or something." God, that sounded lame. What are you Deeks – sixteen?

He poured the wine and noticed Kensi had put out the wedding crystal. And the best china and silverware. Plus, she'd changed and was wearing this silky sort of blouse with a really low-cut neckline – and no bra. "I would have dressed up a bit more if I'd realised." All of a sudden, the casual, loose-fitting linen pants and well-washed t-shirt he'd flung on after the bath seemed pretty hopeless. Why do you have to be such a slob all the time, Deeks? Look at all the effort Kensi's gone to here, and you come ambling in like you couldn't even be bothered.

"You look fine." You look damn fine. You look good enough to eat, the way those pants cling to your ass. And you're not wearing any underwear, which is even better. I love the way you look like you've just rolled out of bed, because it makes me want to get you right back into bed.

The candles made her eyes sparkle more than ever and Marty wondered what the hell he'd ever done to deserve Kensi in his life. His biggest nightmare was the thought of losing her, the thought that one day she might simply shrug and tell him it was all over. And now there was Densi to add into the equation. God, I've really got to start making more of an effort, not just taking her for granted. "New jeans?" he asked casually when she brought the first course through.

"No, quite the reverse." Kensi patted her stomach with a satisfied smile. "Old jeans. My old jeans."

"Old as in 'pre-pregnancy' old?" His mouth was suddenly quite dry as he took in the delectable sight of her ass, snugly encased in taut denim, and the way her legs seemed to go on forever and a day. "Wow. And double wow. Wow, wow, wow." I'm so superficial. But hey – I'm a man. God, you look so fit, Kensi. Marty took a large mouthful of wine, followed by another.

"You approve?" Those yoga classes Freya recommended were definitely worth it. Even if I did discover how out of shape I've got.

"Definitely." Suddenly Marty had lost his appetite – for food, but definitely not for Kensi.

Result! Kensi was absurdly gratified to see the result her quick outfit change before dinner had created. Mind you, walking around wearing the unmistakable aroma of baby-sick probably wasn't the most romantic thing for a man to come home to, and even if you did get used to the smell of stale milk after a while it wasn't quite as erotic as a dab of Shalimar on the pulse points. Now, if only she could keep this up – she could slob around during the day, because Densi didn't care what she was wearing.

"Just wait till you see what I've got lined up to change into after dinner," she said sweetly and then had to dash around the table to thump her husband on the back as he choked on a crouton from the Caesar salad.

"Xena?" he asked feebly, after a large gulp of water.

"That would be telling." Kensi cleared away the plates and sashayed out of the room, well aware that Marty's eyes were firmly glued to her ass. What a pity they were having seared tuna fish and stir fried vegetables next, because poultry would have been so much more apt. When it came to showcasing one's assets, what was sauce for the goose was definitely sauce for the gander.

"I never thought when we bought this table we'd be using it for this." Not that Marty was complaining. Quite the reverse, in fact. He was just grateful they'd bought a chunky, Mission-style table, because while a more delicate piece of furniture might have taken his weight lying down, it was doubtful if it would also have coped with Kensi standing over him, one leg on either side of his hips.

"Quiet." She let the tip of her sword press down lightly on his chest. God, I love wearing this outfit. It makes me feel so powerful – like I could do anything.

"If you move just a couple of inches, I can see right up your skirt," he offered, eyes shining with gleeful anticipation. Do you know how much I love you in that outfit? You can do whtever you want with me.

"Do I have to make you be silent?" Kensi moved the sword blade so that it rested just below his Adam's apple.

"Yeah. I've got kind of a big mouth. All the better to kiss you with."

"You can't mix up fairy tales with Greek legends!" Kensi complained, kneeling down.

Marty gulped as he saw what the corset did to her breasts as she bent forward. "Want a bet?"

"Shut up and kiss me," Kensi growled, in full Xena-mode

Well, that was an invitation no sane man in possession of his faculties was going to refuse. Her mouth tasted like wine and roses and the things her tongue did just about drove Marty mad.

"Exactly why am I wearing gold lame shorts?" he asked a while later.

"Rocky," Kensi said succinctly, being rather preoccupied with covering his chest with kisses. And if there was absolutely no correlation between Xena and Rocky – who the hell cared? This was her fantasy, after all and since when did fantasies have to make sense?

Marty shook his head in confusion. "Since when were you into boxing?" Please tell me I don't look anything like Sly Stone? Or that you fancy him.

"Rocky Horror."

"Oh - okay." It was starting to make sense, in a weird kind of way. It was probably a good thing the curtains were drawn and all the doors were locked. "That works for me."

"It definitely works for me." Nevertheless, Kensi felt it was high time those shorts were discarded. This was going to be just like unwrapping the best Christmas present ever. "You never asked what was for pudding," she complained.

"I kind of thought that was you," he confessed. You're the sweetest thing I could dream of.

"So you couldn't possibly fancy any ice cream?" She had the most deliciously evil smile Marty had ever seen in his life and he had a flashback to being fed ice-cream in bed…

"Maybe you could tempt me?" You can always tempt me. Any time of the day or night. Just say the word. Or don't say anything at all – just look at me like that.

"How about I do just that?"

"How about you do?" Sometimes, the added memory of history made the anticipation even better. And Marty had no doubt that the evening was just beginning. Because after the ice cream would come all the delightful complications of easing Kensi out of that tight corset and peeling off her leather skirt and slowly unlacing her sandals. No, on second thoughts, he might leave the sandals on. Just because. That was a good reason, wasn't it? Probably the best reason in the world.

Kensi came back in with a large tub of ice cream, one spoon and a blindfold.

"I can't trust you not to cheat," she said solemnly.

"Yeah, I can be bad."

"It's when you're bad that I love you most." And ain't that the truth?

"Being good is definitely overrated."

"Except for us." Kensi was suddenly seized with doubts. Was it mad to think their relationship could continue in the same way as before? Was she just fooling herself? Was Marty just humouring her?

"Except for us. We're good, Kensi. We're golden. Because you're the best." How come things just get better and better? Marty thought about that for a moment and then decided that sometimes you just had to accept that you were a lucky bastard and work damn hard to make sure you stayed lucky. Because there were some things you couldn't leave to chance and there was no way he was going to get complacent. The memory of how close he'd come to loosing Kensi was still too fresh in his mind to ever risk that happening again. "Baby, you're the best," he whispered into her ear.

Kensi got back onto the table and wrapped her arms around him and then folded her legs around his waist, so that he was totally enveloped by her embrace. "And nobody does it half as good as you."

Monday nights were never going to be the same again.

Observant readers will note that slushy and randy plot bunnies have joined forces. And you know what that means... evil plot bunny is bound to be plotting something. A maim, perchance? Something worse? I haven't killed anyone for ages and ages...