Chapter Twenty: Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This

Well, how impressed am I that one reviewer is apparently psychic, as the end of chapter 19 was SO not planned – it only occurred to me about five minutes before I wrote it!

Three updates in a very short space of time, because I had an action-packed day and the prospect of an even busier one tomorrow, which means I'm a bit hyper. So I thought I'd indulge myself a little, with a bit of sentimental K/D fluff.

"I thought we'd agreed you'd wear the scrubs once we were back home?" Kensi said. "I don't want the whole world to know about my sexual fantasies." Then she got a proper look at him and sat bolt upright in bed, barely restraining a yelp of pain from the surgical incision. "What the hell happened to you, Marty?"

He sat on the side of the bed, swinging his bare feet up from the cold floor. "I just pulled my arm a bit. It's no big deal."

Kensi took a long, hard look at him. "Yeah, they gave you the good drugs, didn't they? The ones they keep in those locked cabinets. I can barely see your pupils at all."

"I'm really alright," he mumbled, giving a dopey grin and then yawning widely.

"Sure you are." She moved over and pulled back the covers. "Go on, lie down before you fall off the bed and break your stupid neck."

"I just wanted to see you," he protested sleepily, snuggling down into the pillows and cradling his head with his good hand. In a matter of seconds, he was asleep and Kensi eased herself out of the bed.

God, men could be the most infuriating creatures on earth, being all macho one minute, and then the next minute needing to be looked after. And, much as she would have liked to stay beside him, there really wasn't enough room for the two of them. Only he looked so damned cute, lying there with an innocent expression on his face that was wholly misleading.

"And I wanted to see you too. Even if I would have preferred you not to be maimed." And, having nothing better to do, now that she was wide awake, Kensi decided that she really should let the nursing staff know where their patient had wandered off. Pulling on slippers and a robe, she slipped out into the corridor. It was just sheer bad luck that she'd only got about ten feet before she ran straight into Hetty.

"I was just coming to see you." The older woman looked uncharacteristically flushed. "Perhaps we could go back to your room and talk?"

"Marty's in there – asleep." Kensi glared at Hetty. "And he's injured – again. Which nobody bothered to tell me about." She crossed her arms and looked accusingly at her boss. "You could at least have told me, Hetty. You owe me that much."

"I wanted to tell you in person; I thought it would be less of a shock."

Kensi gradually relaxed her stance. "I wasn't really that shocked, more kind of relieved he was alive and able to walk and talk – although not very coherently, due to the drugs. Marty's got kind of a knack for getting himself injured, let's be honest. But you should have told me."

"I apologise. Next time you are in hospital and he is injured and several hours away, I'll let you know immediately so you can have plenty of time to worry and work yourself into a state, shall I?"

It was so unlike Hetty to snap that Kensi knew something was wrong. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Not here. We'll just have to risk waking Mr Deeks. Who really should be in his own room, by the way." She looked enquiringly at Kensi, who refused to rise to the bait.

"Take it up with Wee Willie Winkie then," she invited, ushering Hetty into the room and sitting down. "Well? What happened?"

Hetty related the events on Clark Mountain, and Kensi winced as she heard about Eric's injuries. "Oh my God, that's so awful." Part of her felt terrible for Eric, but mostly she was just relieved it wasn't Marty who'd been booted in the face.

"Especially as all his family live so far away," Hetty mused. "You don't know if he's got any close friends who might be able to look after him?" Many years ago, she had spent a wonderful summer in Scotland, learning the art of fly-fishing and she could still cast her line with admirable skill.

"I don't think so, but it's possible. Eric doesn't really talk a lot about his private life."

Well, Hetty knew that was certainly true. It had been quite a shock to learn from George that they'd flown to Vermont last weekend and what a pity it was that none of Eric's colleagues had been unable to attend their marriage ceremony.

"I'm sure there is someone who will be able to tend to his needs."

"Or he could move in with us in Malibu? There's plenty of room?"

Hetty shook her head. "I'm sure that won't be necessary." George looked like he was a very capable young man, after all. She made a mental note to make sure Eric made sure he was getting all the pension entitlements and other benefits he and George were entitled to. That was another part of her job – making sure her staff were looked after. And if that meant protecting their privacy, then she didn't have a problem with that. But there was no way the couple should not get everything they were entitled to, especially as they'd missed out on getting a wedding present from the team. That was something else to add to her to-do list – and she'd have to think carefully before selecting her gift. It had to be just right

"Shall I wake him up and take him back to his own bed?" She'd noticed how tired Kensi was looking and saw that it was nearly midnight.

"It's a pity to wake him." Kensi was enjoying watching Marty sleep. It had been far too long since they'd shared a bed.

"But necessary." Hetty raised her voice. "Mr Deeks! Time to get up!" It had been a long day and she was very conscious of the strains it had put upon her. "Come on, now. Get up and go to bed. Your own bed."

"There's something that doesn't make sense about that," he protested, letting her propel him out of the door. "Night, Kensi."

"Night Marty. Night, Hetty."

It was disturbingly like an episode of The Waltons. Except for the thoughts that went through Kensi's head as she watched him shuffling off in those blue scrub pants. Because The Waltons never did x-rated, as far as she could remember.