AN: This is just a belated tag to last week's "The Long Goodbye." I'm just starting to process a story-reaction to the ending of last night's episode...
Reviews much appreciated.
Before Kensi and Talia even make it out of the building, plans for ice cream turn into plans for deliciously greasy pub food, followed by beer, then finally followed by ice cream. Supper time has long since passed unobserved, and their stomachs are rumbling to notify them of this fact. After the weeks Kensi has had, girls' night out has a definite appeal. However, she discovers quickly that there's a certain boy who isn't so keen on being left out of everyone's plans for the evening. The texts start rolling in while she's still following Talia's taillights toward the pub.
Callen hates me.
It's rapidly followed by another before she has even had the chance to decide if she's going to reply or not.
He won't even get a beer with me.
She laughs at that and decides he's just feeling melodramatic and can handle the rejection. She shoots him back a poor baby and lets him know about their change in plans for the evening as she heads in to meet Talia at the table she's claimed.
It's nice, she decides, to hang out with other women in law enforcement, who understand the challenges and hilarities of spending all her days in a testosterone-and-adrenalin-saturated workplace. It's especially nice now that she doesn't feel like she has to be constantly staking a claim on her man, since it seems that Talia has turned her flirtatious energy toward Callen who, surprisingly, seems like a more willing recipient. She thinks maybe, if Talia keeps her hands off Deeks, they could be friends.
Her phone is silent for a little while as they eat and laugh and compare stories, and then the texts start coming in again, her phone vibrating in her pocket every few minutes through the end of the game they catch on the pub's bigscreen. She doesn't reply to any of them, but she checks them and bites back smiles as they pile up.
Monty wants to know when you're coming home.
Baby?
I'm going to finish your twinkie stash out of sheer boredom if you don't get home soon.
Are you almost here?
Your twinkies are gone.
Monty is really worried about you. He thinks you've abandoned us.
He could probably use some reassurance.
He's listening to Tori Amos again.
We're out of chocolate chips.
You're supposed to leave those for me to cook with, not eat them out of the bag.
We are also out of beer.
There are weird people at the grocery store at 10pm.
She snorts at that one, knowing there must be a story there that she will hear in the morning. Talia sends her a questioning look and Kensi passes her the phone with the stack of random texts in view.
Talia scrolls through them, shaking her head as she goes, and raises her eyebrows knowingly as she passes it back to Kensi.
"He loves you."
Kensi blushes and looks down, but smiles and doesn't try to deny it.
"Yeah. He does."
Later, as the eat their ice cream, her phone vibrates again:
The bed is really cold.
After that there are no more buzzes, so she assumes that he's managed to survive the cold bed and fall asleep.
They debate finding somewhere to go dancing for a while, but call it a night after the ice cream, deciding they'll invite Callen and Deeks along for another night out sometime soon.
Deeks is snoring on the couch with Monty's head on his thigh when she quietly slips through the door late that evening.
He stirs and sits up at the sound of the door closing, blinking at her owlishly.
"Hey," he rumbles in that rough, half-asleep voice that she has come to love.
"Hey," she replies. "I thought you were in bed a while ago?"
"It was cold."
It comes out sounding a little like a whine, but the faintest blush creeps under his beard as he admits that he doesn't like going to bed without her there. They're not usually quite so clingy, but they've both been feeling a little needier than usual with everything that has gone on these last couple weeks. It will probably get old eventually, but for now it's still warm and sweet and fuzzy in the pit of her stomach, and exactly what both of them need.
She melts.
"I made you cookies," he informs her in that slow, sleepy voice as she pulls him up from his place on the couch and slips her arms around him for a warm hug. His sleepy form is warm and heavy against her as he returns her embrace. She can smell the hints of vanilla and chocolate and sugar still lingering in the air and murmurs her appreciation into his neck before she draws back to smile at this adorable, disheveled man that she loves.
"Come on, sleepyhead," she says gently, tugging him toward the stairs. "Let's go warm the cold bed up."