Prompt: Kensi doesn't get a text at the beginning of 6x03.
God, her ass is killing her.
For the last few months, the first thought that pops into Kensi's head every morning is that something is hurting like a motherfucker. Not because she's getting old, or in bad shape, or even injured. No, it's the human blanket, a rather attractive but possibly a bit too fluffy human blanket, that somehow manages to sleep next to or literally on top of her every night.
Not that she is complaining…out loud, anyway. Deeks gives her such an amazing sense of security that she dare not ask him why the hell he is sleeping at her apartment every night. Why does his dog have food and a bed at her place? Is Monty even his dog anymore, or is he their dog? Why are there more size L vneck shirts in her room than M? And if she goes to work in his jeans one more time, people are going to start to become really suspicious. At least he washes her clothes, although his idea of folding is dumping the basket on her bed.
Don't even get her started on his apparent fear of the bed, which is obviously a more comfortable yet impossible sleeping option for the pair. The most action her bed has seen in the last few months was a wrestling match over the last snickerdoodle. And really, Monty was right: it was his cookie. Considering that her ass hurts and her legs are full of pins and needles from lack of circulation, sleeping in her bed would be really nice. Sleeping next to him, nuzzled into his smooth bare chest…that would be really nice.
Someday, she's going to wake up and confront him with the frustrations that plague her.
She's going to ask why he can't bear to spend a night away from her but won't even mention sleeping with her. She'll tell him that his hands on her calves and breath on her thighs drives her mad and that she wants him, all of him. She'll find out what they are to each other now; friends, roommates, or the normal response…partners. In a world where partners sleep on each other's asses and live in a state of denial about their cohabitation status, of course.
Kensi blinks her eyes and adjusts to the light of her TV, still on AMC from the night before. Maybe this morning will be the day that she finally gets her answers? But as soon as she sees him, sleeping contently across the lower half of her body, she realizes it won't be that day. The fear that she could drive him away, that his blond curls won't be the first thing she touches every morning, is too strong. He must have his reasons. She might not be ready to hear them.
So today, they're just "partners" again.
Maybe tomorrow.
