"Huh. Talk about a passion-killer. You're going to be flogging a dead horse. If I don't have a heart-attack first." It was harder than it looked – carrying Kensi upstairs and talking at the same time.

"Maybe you should make a bit more of an effort to keep in shape?"

"Me? I'm in great shape. I run every morning, I work out and I eat healthily. Which is more than can be said for some people." Despite all this, the last flight of stairs was a considerable effort.

"There's nothing wrong with my diet." Kensi pulled his hair.

"You want a bald lover? Keep on doing that and you'll have one, sweetheart. And there's nothing right with your diet either. It's basically 100% junk food. Processed pap. Full of chemicals and preservatives."

"I've got a busy life. Convenience food is just what it says on the packet – convenient. And preservatives mean I'll live longer. Result all round.

"And yet it doesn't take much effort to make something fresh and healthy. Something that tastes good and makes you feel alive."

"You sound like my mother."

"That's it. Passion officially dead now."

They were outside the door and Kensi jumped down. "Can you believe this is really going to happen? You and me moving in together – who would have thought it?"

"I know. Sometimes I go to kick myself and then that wound in my butt gives a throb and I don't need to bother."

"It was hardly more than a scratch. And it was an accident."

"Yeah – that's easy for you to say." Marty rubbed his butt reflectively. "I'd never hear the end of it if I scarred you for life."

"You want me to kiss it better?"

"Yes please. You want to do that right here – that way I might increase my reputation with the female neighbours?" The ones who think I can't get it up – or keep it up. Or both. Probably both.

"Or you could just wear tight jeans. No, wait a minute – I forgot. You already do." Kensi put the key into the lock. "You ready for this?"

"It feels kind of grown-up. Like we're going to have to be responsible adults."

"I am a responsible adult," Kensi protested.

"Who lives on a diet of junk food. That's not responsible."

"You're like a broken record sometimes. You want to take over the cooking? Because that's fine by me."

It struck Marty that there was a certain inequality about this arrangement. "As well as the cleaning? And what exactly are you going to do?"

"Lounge around wearing not very much at all?"

"Fair enough. You've got a deal." He grabbed her hand and they walked into the apartment side-by-side.

"So – this is going to be home." Kensi looked around. "Think we're going to be happy here?"

"I know it."

"How about we go look at the bedroom?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

So it was completely empty and there were no curtains at the windows? So what. Such things were mere niceties. All that mattered was that they were here together and their new life was about to start.

"Tell me how much you love me?" Kensi's back was pressed against the wall and Marty was kissing her neck.

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways – I love how you moan when I kiss you underneath your ear."

"Oh God, yes. That makes me go to pieces." Kensi's fingers dug into his shoulders, just to make the point.

"And I love the way you taste when I kiss you." There was a long silence while he did just that.

"Keep going." Kensi's fingers were tangled in Marty's hair and she brought his lips back to meet her own.

"I love the length and breadth and depth of you." Kensi inhaled sharply as he suited his actions to the words. "I love how you look at me. I love how you love me." Each statement was accompanied by an emphatic thrust of his hips.

"I just love how you make me feel." She rotated her hips slightly and then moaned in pleasure.

"How's that?"

"Incredible. Just incredible." And then her head fell forward onto his shoulder and there was no more talking, just the sound of two bodies moving in unison, punctuated by sharp breaths. Outside, the sun was shining and it came in through the windows, the golden rays of the afternoon falling down like honey upon them as the dust motes floated lazily in the air and the world seemed as close to perfect as made no difference at all.

"You're quite sure we can't do anything else? You've not got another six cartons of books you want us to haul up the stairs? Or maybe a grandfather clock? Because I feel like I go on for another four hours, no problem. How about you, Sam?"

"I'm good to go. And I mean that. I want to go home." Sam flexed his shoulders and winced as his muscles protested.

"But you're coming back tonight?" Kensi flopped down onto the sofa and sighed happily. "I can't believe we're all moved in. even if we're not unpacked yet." She eyed the boxes of books, stacked one on top of the other and hoped Marty would leave them for another day. The furniture was more or less in place and that was the main thing. Everything else could wait.

"Of course we're coming back tonight. I plan to drink my own weight in beer." Callen clapped Marty on the shoulder. "Great place, by the way."

"Just make sure you've got lots of alcohol tonight," Sam instructed. "I need something to deaden the pain." Moving furniture was harder than any workout. Much harder. He hated to think how many stairs he'd climbed today, but it must be at least a couple of thousand and right now his hamstrings felt tight enough to snap. The thought of a long hot bath was very tempting indeed. A rub down afterwards would be even better, but thus far Callen had been remarkably unwilling to share his lady doctor's favours around, even when Sam had tried to persuade him it was the least a partner could do.

"Don't worry. The fridge is already full."

"You might find something extra in there. From me and G. Just to say 'welcome home.'" Brushing aside their thanks, Sam hobbled dramatically to the door. "Leave them in peace, G. They're young and in love. Try to remember what that felt like and give them some privacy."

Once they were gone, Marty went into the kitchen and opened the fridge door. "Sam wasn't kidding. Come through and see." He showed the her the label and whistledappreciatively. "Very nice too. Pity we don't have any flutes."

"They thought of that too." Kensi nodded to the kitchen table, where a box of champagne glasses was placed. "Wasn't that sweet of them?" She twirled around in sheer joy. "Can you believe it?"

"Not really. It's like a dream – too good to be true. How about we drink this outside and just sit there and feel smug about how good all this is?"

"You've got a deal."

Opening a bottle of champagne with one hand out of commission wasn't the easiest thing in the world, but eventually he managed it. Kensi grabbed the cork and put it into the pocket of her jeans, not that she was sentimental, because she wasn't, not in the slightest. She just didn't want her gorgeous terrace to get messy, that was all. It wasn't like she had any plans to keep it in her jewellery box either.

"See? I told you the roof terrace would be wonderful." So what if you had to crawl out of the bedroom window to get to it? The apartment was just perfect and once they'd finally unpacked all the boxes, it would be home.

"And you were right. As usual." Marty craned his neck." I'm almost certain that if I just stand on the table, I'll be able to see the ocean."

"Don't even think about it. The table's brand new and you've already got a broken arm." Kensi grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled him back down.

"Exactly what are you more concerned about – me breaking the table, or me breaking my other arm?" he asked curiously.

"Both. And it was terribly convenient the way you managed to do that just days before we moved in."

"Sam and Callen managed just fine without me, moving all our stuff. If they ever need to get another job to pay the bills, I reckon they could set up on their own as moving men. Anyway, it wasn't like I broke my arm on purpose.

"How about you're just naturally clumsy? And don't try to tell me it was fault you broke your arm chasing a suspect. Why would I do something like that?"

"Same reason you shot me in the butt? To have me all to yourself?"

"Sometimes, Marty Deeks, you are so conceited it's untrue. You're not that great looking."

"Can I help it if you think so?"

"Okay, you've got me there." Kensi gave a sigh of contentment. "This really is great, isn't it?"

"Uh huh. I can see right down your blouse from here."

"Pervert. You want to be serious for a minute?"

Marty heaved a martyred sigh. "Kensi – you've chosen the world's best apartment. It's great, you're great: even the champagne is great. Actually, you're right. Life is great. Pretty much perfect. Apart from the broken arm, of course."

"What do you like best about it? The apartment, I mean?"

"Seriously? You have to ask me that?"

"I have to ask you that. Go on – tell me? It's this roof terrace, isn't it?" She leant forward, eyes sparkling.

"Not exactly," Marty admitted.

"Oh come on. Just because you found that cast and sling a bit difficult to manage getting out of the window. It'll get easier, I promise. And anyway, it's not it's that far down to the street. Only a couple of floors"

"It's far enough. I don't bounce, you know. I just tend to land on concrete with a loud thud that denotes several more broken bones."

"Okay. So it's not the roof terrace. Stop avoiding the issue. What do you love most about our apartment then?"

"Apart from the fact that you're in it? Okay - how about the fact that before tomorrow morning I plan to make love to you in every single room? Including the hall. And the roof terrace. So far, we've only christened the bedroom, so we've got some way to go."

"Oh. Okay. That works for me." Kensi looked at her watch. "We've probably just got time to get started before the rest of the team gets here for the party."

"I don't like to be rushed," Marty protested, as she propelled him back to the window. "Some things are too good to be rushed."

"Don't worry: we've got all the time in the world." Right now, Kensi felt that life was pretty damned perfect. And they were only just beginning. She really must have done something pretty incredible to deserve to be this happy.