A/N: So, here's part 17. This one is pretty Densi focused.

"Deeks, there is nothing in the law that states we have to allow a detainee a phone call," Sam told Deeks, his arms crossed as they sat across from each other.

What had started out as a simple discussion about twenty minutes before, had evolved into a tense disagreement. He'd thought Sam was finally beginning to respect his opinion at least a little bit, but the last case had proven him wrong.

Sam and Callen had arrested a man, David Williams, after Eric and Nell found evidence linking hm with a domestic terrorism plot. Deeks was mildly horrified when they brought him into the boat shed, bleeding from a gunshot wound to the upper arm.

Although Williams eventually confessed to the location of the terrorist ring, it still didn't sit well with Deeks.

"I realize that, Sam, but it's the principle. You denied him a call, you didn't get him medical help, and threatened to stick him in a jail cell with a convicted killer," Deeks countered. "I'm supposed to be a legal liaison. What the hell am I doing here if I just stand by and say nothing?"

"Deeks, you're new here. Sometimes you have to slant the law a little bit to get the right results. Williams wasn't in danger of bleeding out and I was never going to act on my threats. He just needed to believe I would."

Deeks pressed his lips together, beyond frustrated. He'd held back for the past several weeks as he watched and learned how the team operated. Technically, a lot of what they did skirted the law. It wasn't exactly illegal, but it certainly wasn't best practice and in the right situation a lawyer could make a case against them in his opinion.

"What if he presses charges?" Deeks asked.

"I think he has more serious things to worry about," Callen pointed out lightly. "Like denying that he was part of a group that planned to blow up a shopping mall."

Sam stood and patted him on the shoulder, effectively ending the conversation. He probably didn't mean to be condescending, but it made Deeks feel like a little kid.

"Deeks, once you're here for a while, you'll realize that many times the end result justify the means," he explained. Deeks glanced over at Kensi, but she remained silent.

After they left the room, Kensi sat down next to him, nudging him with her shoulder.

"You going to be ok?" she asked quietly. He sighed and rubbed at his hair, trying to find a way to explain the mounting frustration he felt.

"Sometimes it just feels like I've replaced one failed system for another," he said.

"Don't let Sam hear you say that," she joked. When he didn't laugh, she gently rubbed his back. "Is there anything I can do, babe?" That did make him smile a little.

"I don't think so. I guess I just have to figure out what my purpose in being here is. And what maniacal plans Hetty has for me."

"Mm, I don't think Hetty has anything too evil planned for you. She likes you, you know."

"Even when she calls me cheeky?"

"Especially then," Kensi said emphatically. "I think you have her completely charmed." Her hand drifted a little lower on his back, effectively pushing his concerns to the back of his mind.

"And do I have anyone else charmed?" he teased. Kensi blushed and glanced away.

"You're getting there."

"You realize you called me, 'babe' a minute ago, right?"

"No, I didn't," she said, making the weird cackling sound that he'd come to associate with embarrassment.

"Yes, you did. Admit it, you have a pet name for me."

"You are utterly ridiculous."

"And you love it."

"We have work to do," she countered, grabbing a random stack of files which they'd completed the day before. He grabbed them, setting to the side, and linked their fingers. She glanced around to see if anyone was watching, it didn't protest or pull away.

"Say it. Say you love it," he persisted. She was adorable when she got flustered.

"Oh my god, you are so annoying."

"That's still not a no."

"You know, I was going to invite you over for dinner tonight, but I've changed my mind," she said, retrieving her hand and crossing her arms.

"Wait, you were going to let me into casa de Kensi?" he asked. "I've been dying to know if you're as messy there as you are here and at my place."

"First of all, I don't even know what that accent was supposed to be. Secondly, you're already on thin ice, if you're not careful you might lose more privileges," she warned.

Turning on his best pleading expression, which he found worked remarkably well on his tough as nails girlfriend, he looked directly into her eyes.

"Please reconsider. I promise to be on my best behavior. I won't even mention any dirty dishes or unfolded piles of clothes I happen to see."

Kensi pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes. He saw her start to waver and leaned a little closer, staring more intensely into her eyes. After a minute she sighed.

"Fine." She held up a finger. "But since you find my lifestyle so amusing, you can wash all my laundry and dishes. And you can't have your cleaning lady do it for you."

"Sure," he said without hesitation.

"For a month," she added.

"Doable. You know, cleaning isn't nearly as bad as you think it is." Evading her elbow, he added, "Are there any other, ahem, tasks you want me to take care of? Maybe I can bake you some muffins?" He lowered his voice suggestively.

He smirked up at her as she looked him up and down, apparently considering his offer. After a minute she leaned closer, her expression playful. God, he loved it when she dropped the tough Special Agent persona.

"I would say yes, but I don't think you're ready to handle my muffins," she answered, looking ridiculously pleased with herself. "Or my biscuits."

"I would say 'touche', but aren't biscuits and muffins basically the same thing?" he said, raising a finger. "And just so you know, I can totally handle any and all of your baked goods."

"You just don't want to admit that I outwitted you, Mr. Word Smith."

"Let's just call it a temporary impasse."

"I call it you doing all my housework while watch you do it and eat takeout," she countered.

"Or I could eat y-"

"Ahem!" They both turned, having forgotten that anyone could walk in on their private conversation, and found Nell standing in the doorway with raised eyebrows. She pressed her lips together, looking caught between amusement and vague horror.

Deeks chuckled, ruffling the back of his hair while Kensi quickly pushed away from him.

"Um, how long have you been standing there?" he asked awkwardly.

"Pretty long," she answered.

"Nell, it's not what it sounded like," Kensi rushed to explain. "We were just-"

"Yes, I heard."

"Deeks was joking. You know how he is. We were actually talking about grabbing dinner after work. You know, like completely platonic coworkers do." God, she was making it so much worse. Trying not laugh, Deeks added,

"You should come with. I know some great restaurants." Nell nodded, not looking like she believed them at all.

"I'll think about it."

"Did you have something for us, Nell?" Kensi asked in a higher voice than normal.

"Yes, I do. Hetty wants everyone up in Ops. Eric already called Sam and Callen," she said. Deeks shot Kensi an apologetic look as they followed after Nell.

"So, uh, do you have any nicknames, Nell," he asked, to fill the awkward silence.

"Not really."

"Well, we should give you one. And possibly a bell."

"I don't know…"

"How about Nellvarine?" he suggested.

"Um, I kind of just like Nell," she said.

"Don't worry, we'll think of something."

"Before you ask," Kensi added as the reached Ops and the doors slid open. "Yes, he's like this all the time." Before she walked in, Kensi spun to face him and hissed, "You are so dead."

A/N: It's a bit of shorter and fluffier chapter this week.