Finally the music ended and Deeks scanned the club floor quickly, searching amongst the seeing crowd. At last he managed to spot both Kensi and Louise standing with their arms around each other, screaming, applauding and jumping up and down like school-girls, with expressions of pure delight on their faces. He could feel his heart was pounding and thundering inside his chest and sense the blood rushing in his veins;, the sweat was running in rivulets down his body; his ears were ringing; and yet Deeks had never felt more exhilarated or more alive in his entire life. Right now it felt as if he could race up Mount Everest with stopping to draw breath. It was the sheer amount of adrenalin pumping through his body that made him feel invincible, he knew that, but the sensation was incredible. Fraser had been right when he had said that performing gave you a huge high and Deeks could understand why it was so addictive. If this was what it felt like when you were only a backing dancer, he couldn't begin to comprehend how Lady Gaga must feel. The crowd were treating her as if she was beyond mortal, a visitor from some far-distant galaxy – and he could understand why. This was all about her – he had only been the window-dressing, nothing more than some eye-candy with a cute butt. But God, it had been fun. It had been so much fun it was unreal. And then the realisation s hit: this was it. All that hard work had been a means to an end and now it was over. But what an end. What an glorious, amazing, never to be repeated end. What he wouldn't give to live it all over again, just one more time. This was almost better than sex. Not sex with Kensi, of course – because that was in another league altogether. But it was sweet – it was very sweet indeed. And he had done it. He had really done it and nobody could ever take that away from him. No matter what happened, Deeks would always have this memory of one night, when he had stood tall and basked in the affection of the crowd.
"Well?" he mouthed and Kensi flashed one of her incredible smiles, and then put both thumbs up. So that was alright then.
Back at the Mission, Nell stared at the screen in wonder. "I can't believe they danced like that!" That had to be the sexiest thing she'd ever seen. Who would have thought she would get so turned on by Callen and Deeks. Or even Callen and Deeks making out?
"Believe it," Eric advised. "And just to make sure, you can relive it all over again. Copies will be available for your viewing pleasure on disc for the very reasonable price of only…"
"While I hate to tread on the sort of entrepreneurial spirit that made America great, Mr Beale – not on your nelly. Do I make myself clear?" There was no room for either negotiation or manoeuvre when she used that tone of voice, and Eric knew that. However, if she burnt a copy for her own private records, that would be entirely different, Hetty thought.
"As crystal, Hetty." Eric pulled a face. Not only was he working on New Year's Eve, he was stuck in Ops while everyone else was out at one of the hottest clubs in town. And now he couldn't even have a little fun. Still, there was one advantage – one not inconsiderable advantage. He was here with Nell – alone with Nell. This was the chance he'd been waiting for. And it was nearly midnight. Surely she couldn't refuse to kiss him then? Which was less than a minute away. The suspense was killing him.
On stage, Lady Gaga was starting the count-down with Deeks and Callen standing on either side of her, legs apart and clapping their hands above their heads in time as the audience joined in to mark off the last seconds of the old year.
"Happy New Year, Nell." Eric looked at her and smiled. On screen, the crowd were screaming and clapping, kissing anyone within reach, but he only had eyes for one person – and she was standing right next to him.
"Happy New Year." Nell moved closer, intending to kiss Eric on the cheek, but at the last minute he turned his head, so that her lips brushed against his and then hovered there hesitantly. Seizing the moment, she increased the pressure slightly and felt an immediate response as an arm pulled her into an embrace and at last she finally knew the anwer to the question that had been plaguing her for so long: namely what did it feel like to kiss her partner. And the answer was that it felt completely right, so incredibly right that Nell wondered why she had ever doubted herself or Eric. So they didn't have a conventional relationship? Who cared? It was a great big world and there was rom enough for all sorts of people.
"Wow." That kiss had heated up nicely, Eric thought. He wouldn't have been surprised if his glasses had steamed over it was so hot. "Do we get to do that again?"
Nell tilted her head to one side. "I don't know. Why don't we try it again and see?"
It was probably the best start to the New Year ever. And they still had at least thirty minutes before the rest of the team got back. An awful lot could happen in half an hour. As they kissed again, with increased fervour this time, Nell wondered if anyone had ever made love in the Mission before…
"I don't see why we couldn't have stayed a bit longer," Deeks grumbled. He was still riding high and felt so full of energy that he could have danced for hours longer, maybe even until dawn. With the right person, of course. And he definitely did not include Callen in that simultaneous equation.
"Because we need to go back to the Mission and debrief properly." This was at least the third time Hetty had informed him of this fact and her tone indicated this was the last she wanted to hear of the matter.
"Anyway, if you'd gone out onto the dance floor after that routine, you'd have been debriefed for real." Callen still couldn't get over the way people had stared at them in adulation. If they'd ventured out into the crowd, there was no telling what might have happened. Trust Hetty to go and ruin what could have been a great orgy.
"Spoilsport." Deeks was still sore about the fact that the moment they had come off-stage, Hetty had ushered them out through a side-door and then into a waiting car, without even giving them time to get changed. Kensi and Louise were coming along separately, so he still hadn't been able to talk to her, far less kiss her. That seemed all wrong. You were supposed to kiss a gorgeous woman at the turn of the year. Fair enough, he'd had a pretty decent snog with Lady Gaga, and she'd even caressed his thigh, but she was a superstar and didn't even know his name, so it wasn't quite the same. Besides which, he wanted to kiss Kensi and then pull her into bed and make love for the rest of the night and all of the next day.
"There will be other New Year's Eves, many more of them. And just think what a story you'll have to tell your grandchildren," Hetty said encouragingly. She would have given her eye teeth to have stayed and got down to showing some serious respect for the Gaga, but needs must and the devil was certainly driving in this case.
Deeks and Callen exchanged looks, remembering the finer points of their routine. Homo-erotic was possibly the word, embarrassing in recollection it most definitely was and something they both wanted to forget as soon as possible.
"I don't think so. Not without some heavy editing of the facts. Like how I was dancing with Martine Deeks." Callen emphasised the feminine aspect of the name.
"And you will make sure that the tapes get wiped?" There was no way they wanted that circulating t NCIS agents around the world and then ending up on YouTube.
"I have issued warnings that the severest penalties will result if my edict is disobeyed, I can assure you of that. But you should both be very proud of yourselves. You were sensational – why be modest about it?"
Callen took a look at Deeks sitting next to him, resplendent in his miniscule shorts and burst out laughing. "Deeks? Modest? When he's sitting here beside me, practically naked? You have to be joking."
"May I remind you that I personally chose that outfit?" As a conversation stopper, that was remarkably effective and the resulting silence lasted all the way back to the Mission.
The work of NCIS never stopped, so even in the early hours of the morning there was a small handful of unlucky souls on duty in the Mission when they arrived; those who had drawn the short straw in the holiday lottery and were required to work, rather than be out celebrating with the rest of LA. Their routine, and frankly rather boring, night-shift was considerably enlivened by the arrival of OSP team. Word had clearly got around about the substance of their latest operation, even if the exact details were shrouded in mystery, because the moment Callen and Deeks walked in they were greeted by a slow handclap and a rather decent a cappella version of Bad Romance.
The temptation to turn and run was immense. On the other hand, if you couldn't beat them, then why not give them a damn good show? What was there to be afraid of when you'd danced with Lady Gaga and got a standing ovation?
"One last time?" Deeks whispered, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Why the hell not?" Callen let the whip crack out across the stone floor and had the immense satisfaction of seeing his colleagues nearly jump out of their skins, while at least two people un-holstered their weapons and then looked suitable mortified. He and Deeks then stalked through the Mission with proud, haughty looks on their faces, wiggling their butts for all they were worth, once again clapping their hands above their heads as Hetty lead the way, solemnly intoning
Rah, rah, ah, ah, ah
Roma, roma, ma
Gaga, ooh la la
Want your bad romance.
God alone knew what they looked like, but it felt fine.
"I am never going to hear that song again without reliving tonight." Special Agent Janis Watson watched as the team disappeared into Ops and then sat back down at her desk with a huge smile on her face and flicked contentedly through the photographs she'd managed to capture on her phone. These would be worth their weight in gold. And talking of gold, how good did Deeks' butt look in those shorts? Of course, the front view was even better. She enlarged the photo and then oomed in for closer inspection. Oh yes, that was finger-licking good.
"Champagne? What happened to your rule about no food and drink in Ops, Hetty?"
Sam didn't make it back in until after one in the morning, having followed Jennifer in a cab halfway across LA, only to discover that she was literally reeling when she exited and went straight up to her apartment, presumably to sleep of her excessive intake of alcohol. Unlike her, Sam was stone-cold sober and he drove back to the Mission in a sour mood, only to find the whole team was gathered and waiting for him, complete with champagne. That was strangely touching, but Sam was well-accustomed to hiding his feelings.
"One has to be flexible, Mr Hanna."
Nell cast a covert look at Callen and Deeks and sniggered loudly when Hetty said that. She would never forget the feats of agility they had demonstrated earlier this evening.
Hetty continued as if unaware of the interruption. "There is a scientific principle: 'mutate or vegetate'. I like to think that I can still adapt to changing circumstances. Hence, the champagne. My personal thanks for a job well done under what can only be described as trying circumstances." When it came to survival of the fittest, it was a sure bet that Hetty had been first out of the primordial swamp.
Callen handed his partner the bottle, well-chilled with drops of moisture beading its sides. "How about you show us your wrist action?"
"I trained as a sommelier, G," Sam reminded him, in suitably portentous tones. Good wine deserved proper treatment and vintage champagne definitely deserved respect..
"And you've got the pin in the shape of a corkscrew to prove it: we know. Now just open the damn bottle!"
As befitting a man with considerable experience and expertise, Sam held the cork firmly in his right hand, while his left gently rotated the bottle. There was a muffled explosion and he proudly displayed the cork, held securely in his palm. "And not a drop wasted. That's the way it's done – by the professionals."
Deeks shrugged and held out his glass." That was actually rather anticlimactic. I prefer a bit more explosive action."
"Excuse me if I don't want to take style tips from a man wearing gold boots and shorts. Obscenely short shorts at that." Sam rather wished he and Callen had put on some clothing that actually covered more than five percent of their bodies.
"If you've got it: flaunt it. And anyway, it was Hetty's choice," Deeks reminded him. "And you know how forceful she can be."
"You make it sound as if Hetty personally manhandled you into them, Marty." Louise had positioned herself beside Callen and one hand was resting on his leather-clad butt, while the other clutched the whip possessively.
"A toast – to a very happy and healthy New Year, " Hetty proclaimed. "And to absent friends."
Kensi looked at Macy, who was standing apart from the team, as if in tacit acknowledgment that they had moved on and left her far behind. If the past was really another country, then she was living in some far-distant land, remote and isolated.
"To absent friends." Kensi said softly and lifted her glass in salute. Macy stared back fiercely, her eyes suspiciously bright and determinedly did not look anywhere near Callen and Louise. The truth hurt and while it could not be ignored, she did not need to rub salt into a still-raw wound.
"Tell Nell she's not the first to make love in Ops – not by a long way. Callen and I beat her by years. I wonder if he even remembers?" The bitterness did not conceal the hurt and devastation: that was written clearly on Macy's face and Kensi longed to hug her, to show that someone still cared. And then a familiar voice broke into her thoughts.
"Happy New Year. Here's to us."
She turned away from Macy to find Deeks holding out his glass to hers, with an oddly vulnerable look on his face, as if he was uncertain about what was going to happen next. Kensi was many things: she was brave and feisty, beautiful and daring; she could kick butt with best of them – but she was only human and as susceptible to the charms of a scantily-clad man in the prime of condition as the next sensate woman. This would be like turning down free chocolate – completely insane and out of the question.
"To us," she said quietly. "And to all our tomorrows. Can you do me a favour?"
"For you? Anything."
"I didn't get to dance with you tonight. So how about you show me some of your moves later on? Back at your apartment, when it's just the two of us?"
"That works for me." Deeks swallowed the contents of his glass in one gulp. "Does right now work for you"
"It works perfectly."
2012 looked like it was going to start with a real bang.
Goodness gracious me - no maims! who would credit it? Or should I rephrase that and say 'no maims - yet'?
