Deeks studies her, hands in his pockets, leaning on a beat up truck, empty gun hanging off his shoulder. The mission had gone well, all the tasks completed. Now in the whirl of the aftermath, sirens whirring, medics skittering about, lights flashing red and blue, Deeks finds quiet.

In the midst of the din, he tunes it all out, studying her. This is his Kensi. Sure, she's his Kensi anytime, but this is how he knew her, loved her the most. When she was like this. All Sunshine and Gunpowder.

Hair flying wild around her face, swinging loose from her ponytail. A cut bleeding slightly at her hairline, a smudge of dirt on her cheek. Eyes squinted from the sun, her nose and mouth crinkled in an exhausted frown. Her own empty firearm hanging loosely off tired shoulders, relaxed after a long, tense mission. The way her NCIS Kevlar vest doesn't quite fit her slim frame, the straps pulled as tight as they can go, and still it fits loose, sitting crooked on her chest. Heather blue and white striped sleeves poke out beneath the shoulder straps.

How the hem of her shirt just covers a bit of her NCIS badge at her hip secured to the leather belt looped through her jeans. It catches the sunlight in reflection. The way her leather belt is buckled tightly around her hips, keeping her jeans (with holes in the knees) from slipping from slim hips. Her pistol belt, buckled just below her leather one, fits the same way as her vest, cinched all the way tight, yet loose. It's uneven on her waist, weighted down on the right from her pistol, secured in her thigh holster, its magazine nearly spent, containing a few remaining bullets.

Kensi spins around, waving away a medic that comes toward her with a bandage. The back of her shirt is caught up beneath the vest, revealing the little dimples in the small of her back. There's a bloody rip in her jeans, on the back of her thigh, a bit of ragged skin peeking through. Deeks' gaze drifts farther down, to her boots. The heels are worn down from years of use, an uneven edge on the soles, and there's a tear in the leather along her calf. The boots turn, and suddenly he's looking at the toes, not the heels. They are scuffed beyond repair, appearing grey and ragged, not black anymore. Kensi won't part with them, saying they've been through too much with her.

It takes a moment for Deeks to realize that the boots are pointed directly at him, the toes bouncing slightly in anticipation. Deeks drags his tired but fond gaze back up her body, settling on the mismatched, beautiful brown eyes that are staring back at his baby blues. Kensi's tired, squinting expression has turned to one of pure happiness. Her eyes sparkle with her ear-to-ear smile. Deeks returns the smile, pulling his hands out of his pockets and shoving himself to stand fully upright with his hip.

He trots toward her, like a shaggy puppy looking for attention. She walks toward him, and he swoops her up in an embrace, whirling her around in a circle, listening to her mirthful laughter. He sets her back on her feet, hands going to cup her cheeks, swipe back the stray hairs, tucking them behind her ears. She smells of gunsmoke and dirt, in Deeks' opinion, the best smell. He lines his toes up with hers, his equally scuffed boots touching hers. She stands up on her toes and kisses him, which Deeks eagerly returns. Yep, this is his Kensi alright.