It'd only been thirty six hours since they'd decided the house was too good a deal to pass up. Plenty of space and lots of light and a new chapter for them together.
It's amazing how quickly things come together when Nell is on the case. Deeks called and told her that Kensi was moving in. It took a moment before the fact that Deeks was going to be moving in, too, came out in the conversation. If it surprised Nell her voice never gave it away. She just arranged a time for the teams to deliver the two sets of belongings. Unfortunately he didn't run it by Kensi.
"It's fine," she tells him. "You can stay here and direct the moving guys around. It's just a follow up appointment to check my back. I won't be gone long."
"I can call Nell and have it moved," he tells her. "I want to go with you."
She puts her hand on his chest. The palm of her hand lays strong against him, and her fingers tap a little.
"I'm good, Deeks. It's a quick check in. Besides, you're not going to let me help move anything, so I'm not going to be much help here."
He isn't sold on the idea of her going anywhere alone, even with the known danger behind them. He also gets the sense that there's something on her mind she hasn't told him yet, and although it worries him he knows there are times when she has to process alone.
"K," he relents.
She's gone longer than he expects and he fights the urge to call, text, or have Nell track her phone. He directs furniture to the right room, has boxes put were unpacking them won't require the heavy lifting they've been told to avoid as to not stretch her stitches. His patience is rewarded with an update.
Kensi: Sorry. Making a quick stop on way home.
Not enough of an update.
Deeks: What did the doctor say?
Kensi: Healing well. Cleared for work probably next week. One more check up in a few days. Still restricted activity until then.
Deeks: See you soon?
Kensi: Yeah. I'll be home soon. Home. I like how that sounds.
That's enough information. And maybe enough time to decide how best to organize the kitchen before she comes home and puts things in all the wrong places. He's already made his peace with the fact that he's the one who will be putting stuff away most of the time. It might as go where he likes it.
About an hour later she returns with bags in her hands and a big dog bed under her arm. She calls to him as she struggles to close the door, and he's there in an instant grabbing at the stuff she's carrying.
"What happened to not carrying things?" he says taking the dog bed from her. "And what is this?"
"I'm not carrying anything heavy," she insists.
"Big and awkward can be bad for stitches, too," he reminds her.
"Fine. I just wanted Monty to have some new things for his new home."
He would likely have lectured her one more time about being careful if her buying a new dog bed and new toys for his dog in their new home wasn't so cute.
"I also grabbed noodles," she informs him, and all is forgiven. He's starving. They don't even make it to the kitchen, just unpacking the to-go sporks that came with the food and diving in. They sit on the couch surrounded by boxes. Both of their lives in small containers, belongings waiting to be given a new spot to call home. She's quiet while they eat and he fills the air with a report on the move in – where he had the movers stuff put, that he made his best guess but she has total veto authority, that he's never had this much space.
She eats and nods and smiles. She gives him an occasional, "good idea," or "oh, that will work well." If he senses her distance he doesn't say anything. Looking around she's struck that she swore she would never do this again – that she would never intertwine her life so inexorably with someone so that when it all fell apart it would leave an emptiness she didn't know if she would survive a second time.
She can't believe she said yes. His confidence in the moment he asked was enough to get here through any initial panic, but now, surrounded by the boxes and piles the realness is setting in. It's also supposed to be special, the first night in a new place, and she isn't really in a position to make that happen.
After dinner she tries to help. She picks a shelf in the den and starts to pull out books and knick-knacks and tries to make it feel like home. She looks around again, feeling overwhelmed. She wants to know she'll do all the right things, but she knows she can't. She fears she'll drive him away. She's going to leave dishes in the sink and leave clothes on the floor. She's going to not straighten up the coffee table and leave her shoes where he's going to trip on them.
It's their first night in their new place and she's riddled with doubt. She's haunted by memories of waking up alone one Christmas. She worries she's too broken to make it work. And where she would normally hide her apprehension under physical contact, she's constrained by her wounds.
"Maybe we should stay at a hotel tonight or something," she suggests.
"What, baby, no. This is our place. All our stuff is here, although," he admits, looking around, "I'm not entirely sure where here, but somewhere here. The bed is made, the master bath is ready for hot showers in the morning, and there's stuff for frittatas in the fridge." He isn't getting that weight of her words and the burdens she's hiding.
She nods, unconvinced.
"Also, I think we're both too tired to drive anywhere tonight." He says it as a throwaway.
She nods again. He goes back to his current task - he's focused on the box he's unpacking, in his mind the last box of the night before he's earned himself a good night's sleep.
But Kensi can't pull her mind out of her uncertainty; she can't shake the feeling that if this is going to work she needs to do more, be more. Deeks doesn't notice her come up behind him, but is immediately aware of her as she wraps her arms around him. Is isn't smooth or graceful as she grabs the bottom hem of his shirt and slowly begins to lift it.
He quickly puts down the contents of the box he is organizing in a cabinet and grabs her hands, pulling them back down as he turns to face her. She leans in to kiss him, and he dodges.
"Whoa, Kens, what are you doing?"
"I think it's obvious what I'm doing," she answers, trying for a seductive tone.
"Yeah, that part is obvious, and predictable," he jokes, "because I'm irresistible, but the doctors just told you today, no vigorous or strenuous activity, and when we get to…"
"I'll be really careful," she assures him trying to kiss him again before he puts his hands on her shoulders and steadies her. She tries to convince him. "I'll be on top. I'll hardly move my back at all, I'll…"
"Well that sounds terrible," he says. "Not the you on top part, that sounds fabulous, and has a great view, too, but the part where you are trying to not move and having to be super careful and reserved – that part sounds not at all like you, not like us."
"I bet I can make it worth your while."
"Baby, there has never been a moment with you that isn't worth my while, but what's going on here? What am I not getting?"
"It's our first night in our new place. Our place. We're supposed to 'christen' it tonight."
"Supposed to?"
"Yeah," she confirmed.
"There is no supposed to, baby," he tells her.
"But that's what they say."
"Who is they?"
"People?" Even she doesn't sound convinced.
"I don't think anyone knows what a modern day wonder-woman and a crime fighting action hero with great hair are 'supposed' to do. No one's ever been us. We decide what we're supposed to do."
"I just couldn't handle you being disappointed with me," she says, a fragile voice betraying the insecurity. "I don't want to disappoint you.'
And then it hits him, hits him so hard it makes his chest tighten and the steals his breath. She knows she can kick in doors and shoot better than the team. She knows that her knife skills are deadly. But looking at her here, so unsure, so anxious that she isn't enough – it breaks his heart.
He pulls her tight to his chest, one arm around her lower back and one literally holding her head to his collar bone.
"You could never disappoint me." He pauses to put a kiss on her head. "Never, Kens."
"But you can't know that," she reasons.
"Ah but I can," he tells her, releasing only to ensure he can look her in the eye.
"So you're saying that you can see the future," she challenges.
"Maybe I can," he says with a little mystery and it draws her in.
"So what do you see?" She needs his confidence, how he sees the world. She need to rely on his vision of the possible.
He kisses her lips gently and reverently.
"I see us cuddling on this couch and falling asleep even though our bedroom will be right up there," he says pointing to their new bedroom. Then he kisses her again. "I see us laughing until we cry, or until you snort, or both."
She smacks him jokingly on the shoulder and the first hint of smile cross her face.
"I see us eating meals at that table, together, maybe sometimes with friends or family, and knowing that you didn't cook them."
He laughs at his own joke and she thinks about smacking him again but refrains. He kisses her again. Slower. Stronger.
"I see us making love in every room in this house. But not because we're supposed to. Because in both every day and extraordinary moments, in the most amazing ways, with no warning and no expectation, sometimes how bad we want and need each other is literally a force of nature."
"I like how that sounds."
"Yeah, I like how that sounds, too. So we're not driving anywhere tonight. We're going to take our absolutely exhausted bodies upstairs to our bedroom, and we're going to crawl into our bed and tomorrow we're going to start something amazing. Here. In this house. Together."
She just nods, letting his belief in them carry her. She laces her hand with his and takes the first step to the stairs. He gets the light switch as they start climbing, his hand never leaving hers. He trails a step behind, knowing that he would follow her anywhere.
It takes a while, even in the exhaustion, to feel comfortable. New house. New sounds. Kensi remembers hands grabbing at her and holds Deeks tighter. Deeks remembers the way he doubled over when he found her bedroom the night Angelo took her and intertwines their fingers, pulling her closer against his back. But they give each other strength, and comfort, and eventually sleep finds them.
And when they sleep in each other's arms they dream of possibilities.
The End
A/N - And just like that - we've reached the end of another offering. I hope you enjoyed. If you are finding it now that it's done, I'd encourage you to leave a review and let me know how it reads if you take it in in one breath. If you have ideas for my next endeavor, let me know -a little stuck right now. So grateful to people who reviewed and reached out. I do this to connect, and I appreciate all the connections. Happy Season 13, everyone.