AN: Hey guys! This is based on that ADORABLE sneak peek on YouTube! Sooooo precious! Anywho, I didn't have the time to send this to anyone, so please excuse the mistakes... And you know... leave a review! They kinda (okay, completely, but I didn't want to sound pathetic) make my day!

Blessings (and Happy Thanks Giving),

bookdiva

"How did they ever give you a Detective's badge?" I couldn't help but tease my partner as he followed me around the armory, making ridiculous comments.

"I'll have you know, at the LAPD they used to call me Sherlock Holmes," he replied indignantly. I couldn't help but smirk.

"Ha-oh, a fictional character?" I shot him a mock-pitying glance, knowing perfectly well that if anyone really had called him that, it hadn't been meant as a compliment. "Well done."

"I also know you better than you think, missy," he said, so nonchalantly it gave me a slight pause.

I suppressed a shudder—half of pleasure and half of panic—at that thought.

"Oh yeah?" I challenged him. I smirked, thinking there was no way he could possibly pass my little test. "What's my favorite color?"

He didn't even hesitate.

"Blue."

"Wrong," I couldn't help but feel smug. Somehow, the thought that he knew me that well made me want to squirm. And I honestly couldn't say that I knew his favorite color, either.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he said, clearly not thrown off in the least. "Let me be more specific. Cornflower blue."

And it was suddenly like the world stopped spinning.

"That was such a lucky guess," I scoffed, desperately trying to pretend that it wasn't a big deal that he knew that little detail.

It's only one thing, Kensi, I reminded myself. It's not like it's even that deep.

"A lucky guess?!" Deeks exclaimed, actually sounding offended. "Okay, first off, that's not even a real color. And secondly, you don't even own anything in the cornflower hue."

I quickly scrambled to find some way to throw him off from his apparent mission to show how much he knew about me as I stealthily retreated from the armory.

"Not that you know of," I said, trying to add a seductive note to my voice, hoping that he'd pick up on that and run with it. "See? Apparently you don't know everything about me."

"I know you hate liver but loooooove bulgogi," he pointed out, imitating my bulgogi dance from a year ago.

"So does everybody else," I scoffed, desperately attempting to brush it off as insignificant.

"I know that your favorite movie on the planet is Titanic."

Okay… but everyone knows that, I protested to myself.

Yeah, now, my stubborn brain argued. After he announced it on that case. He was the only one who could get onto my computer without Eric hacking it…

"Me and a billion other people," I shot back at him.

"I know that you love mojitos and techno music at the Apex Hotel," he said, stepping in front of me and blocking my path. I tried to side step him, but he just stepped with me and continued. "I know that you played college softball."

I shook my head and turned away, now not even trying to hide the fact that I was running away.

"I know that you dressed up as a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle as a kid for Halloween."

Okay, that one was news to me. How could he possibly know that?

"I know that you keep a journal," he continued without pausing. "I know that you wanna have an oregano garden, even though you're a noted plant killer. I know that your favorite New Kid on the Block was Joey McIntyre, and why not, cause he was the dreamiest. Bam!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands and looking so proud of himself that I kinda wanted to kiss him. "Oh, and I also know that you hide, uh, girly magazines under your bathroom sink."

Or slap him.

"I do not."

"I mean not like girly magazines," he qualified, and I felt my stomach clench. "But magazines… for girls. Things like Cosmo and Modern Bride, 'cause Kick-Ass Kensalina has a softer, lacy lady side that no one knows about… but me. And I love it."

He really does know everything about me, I realized. Surprisingly, that fact didn't scare me as much as it probably should have.

I shook my head and managed a genuine laugh.

"You couldn't've said that any creepier."

"Creepier?" he demanded, cocking his head to the side and increasing his adorableness factor by ten fold.

At least.

"Mmmm."

"I thought it was pretty charming."

"Meh…"

"Guys! Granger's been in an accident!"

And just like that, the moment was shattered, replaced with a single-minded focus on the news in OPS.

But even as we got the grim news on Granger's condition and assignments were doled out, I couldn't shake that warm, fuzzy feeling that only Marty Deeks could've left in me.