What used to be a once a week occurrence started coming twice a week. Then three times, four times, five, until it seemed like every night when Kensi tried to sleep, she couldn't.

It had been four months now since her life changed unexpectedly. New partner, new roommate, new bed-mate…all the same person. For the most part, that was actually pretty great. But the headaches? They were a bitch, and now so was she.

One of the big problems with having a Companion was that they were almost like a living mirror, but instead of images they reflected moods and emotions. So when Kensi was cranky, Deeks was cranky. He was about fed up with it all and was having trouble tempering his moodiness. His crashing and banging of pots and dishes around the kitchen did nothing to help her current state of distress.

Stepping out of the bedroom, Kensi covered her eyes and snarled. "Do you have to make so much noise?"

"I don't have to," he replied testily. "I put your dinner in a container for you."

"I'm not hungry."

"Eating will help-"

"Quiet will help," she snapped. "And darkness. So if you could shut up and…fuck it, I don't know. Make everything dark. That would help."

She knew that he just wanted to help her. When the headaches first started he would hold her tight, trying to suck some of the pain away. But that wasn't fair to him, and more often than not she pushed him away now. She didn't know what hurt him more, though - the pain she was in or her rejection.

Maybe she could sleep tonight. Maybe tomorrow she would be back to normal. Maybe this would be the last one because her fucking brain would explode and put her out of her misery.

"Maybe you should quit being stubborn and go to the doctor," Deeks said softly, lying down beside her. He meant well, he really did, so she didn't snap at him. This time.

Reaching blindly for his hand, she found it behind her back and curled her fingers in between his. "So they can diagnose me with a headache? I can do that on my own. And the pain meds just dull it, not make it go away."

"There could be something wrong with your neck or jaw. Like, you could need an adjustment or realignment. It wouldn't hurt to give a D.O. a try."

Deeks and his hippie shit. There always had to be a fix for something. He probably knew of some magical flower that only grew under the ass of an ancient monk that would cure all of her troubles, but he just hadn't figured out how to sneak out of the country to find it. "I'll think about it."

His thumb stroked her hand while he played with her hair, his long fingers twisting and curling their way through her waves. Just his touch was magical, though he claimed magic wasn't real. She never felt more alive than she did when his hands were on her. But she didn't want to be selfish. He could feel what she felt when they were touching, and how she felt was not good.

"Stop thinking that," he murmured, nuzzling into her hair. "Have you never thought that maybe I like touching you, too?"

Of course she thought that. She knew that. But sometimes the lines were blurry as hell between them. This connection wasn't natural yet it was becoming unavoidable. She felt very strange things around him at times, feelings that twisted her gut and made her head hurt even more. Still, his words made a small smile cross her lips, the first one all night. "That sounds kinda naughty," she teased weakly, squeezing her eyes tighter. "I love it when you talk dirty."

He chuckled lightly, and she knew their harsh tones from earlier were forgiven. "Is that, um…is that something you want me to do?"

Brain. Ouch. "What?"

"Vasodilation and the rush of endorphins from an orgasm can relieve headaches. It's scientifically proven," Deeks answered simply.

Oh God. She was choking now, but it sounded kind of like laughing. Nervous laughing. "Please don't make me laugh. It's jostles my brain."

"I'm not…I'm just trying to help. Or you could," he cleared his throat, "go take a shower."

Shit. Fuckdammit. This asshole fucking knew everything. "If I stand up again, I'm gonna puke."

"Yeah, that's not what I meant by dirty talk…"

"What I mean is," she whined. "I don't want to get in the shower. And how dare you, sir."

"Sorry." She felt him shrug. "Next time make sure I'm out of the apartment before you have private pussy time if you don't want me to feel it."

This conversation was not happening. It was a migraine induced hallucination, obviously. "I'm not sure how cool I am with you saying pussy."

"Why? You say cock literally all the time. What's the difference?"

Rolling onto her back, she let go of his hand and slung her arm over her eyes. If he didn't have the ability to make his voice sound calm and soothing she would have punched him in the throat and told him to shut up. "Cock is funny. Pussy is…"

"Sexy?"

"No. I don't know. Just…no dirty talk. I take it back. I don't love it." Or maybe, she just didn't love it when her head was pounding. This was just very strange, but she was getting desperate and willing to try almost anything that didn't require her having to move or open her eyes. "Tell me a story instead."

Does that mean you want me to help? Deeks thought. She sighed. Yes, she silently answered him.But if I get weirded out, I might elbow you in the groin.

"So, yeah. Story time," he said quickly. Maybe his story would be so boring that she'd fall asleep before he had a chance to…well, gratify her. This was kind of terrifying. She was about to chicken out, and even opened her mouth to stop him, but spoke too late. "I went to Paris one time."

"Oh. Really?" Okay. So a real story, then. Just the fact that he'd been out of the country before was almost enough to distract her from the sensation of his fingertips slipping under her shirt and tracing delicate lines along the muscles of her stomach. Almost. Despite how close they were, his touch seemed foreign every time he ventured somewhere new. It was different from most real men, who could be rough and greedy with their affections. Deeks was the exact opposite of that.

"Breathe," he whispered in her ear. Apparently her body had forgotten to keep doing that.Breathe. Story. Don't focus on the hand, even though she was enjoying just the soft caress of his fingers more than a lot of things done to her in far more sexual situations than this. In fact, she was quite enjoying herself, in spite of the headache.

"Breathing," she replied, gasping audibly when his fingers lightly brushed against the underside of her breast. It was at that moment that the difference between them became glaringly obvious to her. While she couldn't see this as anything other than sexual, it felt as if he approached it differently. He loved her, but not necessarily in a romantic or sexual way. He loved her in every way possible. His touch and the feelings she got from it told her as much. Worshiped, that was how she felt when his hands were on her. That eased her concerns some and she relaxed her muscles. "Okay. Paris. Did you see the Eiffel Tower?"

"Of course." Deeks flattened his palm against her ribs, cupping her breast gently. She could feel his heartbeat in her gut and see vivid images of his memories in her mind. Paris. The Louvre. Wine and cheese and truffles. Cobblestone streets under her feet. It was like she was there with him for a second, but the visions didn't stay with her. "So, there was this CIA asset, a French scientist named Noemie Beauchene. Actually, her father was French, mother American. She worked for this global pharmaceutical company, with branches all over Europe, Asia, and the Middle East. Thanks to her we knew that for ever 9 batches of vaccines sent out, they would sneak out one batch of genetically modified anthrax."

What may have been an odd story choice to some was actually perfect for Kensi. She squirmed closer to him. "Were there any bio-terrorism attacks?"

"Not here, no." His hand drifted lower again, toying with the waistband of her pajama shorts. "Someone within the company found out that she was a spy. She was kidnapped, of course, so we were assigned with an extraction mission. The US doesn't negotiate with terrorists, or supporters of terrorists. It was a simple plan, in and out."

Deeks slipped his fingers just under the elastic of her panties. Kensi's breath caught in her throat, and she could swear the same happened to him. When he picked up his story again, she noticed his voice was heavier and his breathing a little more ragged. "Um. Things rarely go as planned, though. We found her in Paris, but she wasn't so much a victim as an accomplice. The kidnapper was her lover and the abduction was just a ploy for money. We later found out that the information she supplied was full of half truths - accurate details, wrong locations. She played everyone."

The slow pace he was taking was nice when it started, but now it was torturous. She didn't know if he was afraid, or thought he could get her off without actually having to really touch her (and he probably could), but there was definite hesitation on his part. Her head throbbed uncontrollably but she felt almost high, like she was stuck in that infuriating spot right before she usually climaxed. It was coming but she was just waiting for the push to send her tumbling over the edge. "What, uh, happened next?"

Some of his thoughts and memories were still finding their way into her mind. His concentration was dwindling, just as her own was. "Je vais te faire prier pour la mort," he said lowly, as if he remembered the words but not who actually spoke them. I'll make you pray for death. Then all the jumbled thoughts went away and her mind was clear again. Soft lips kissed her temple, like every night before she drifted off to sleep, but she was wide awake now. It was her turn to speak again. She could have just thought it, but he needed to actually hear the words.

"Deeks." Kensi bucked her hips. "Please."

It only took one small shift from his hand and she lost what little control she had been holding on to. Spots glowed below below her closed eyes and her body literally shook from what was undoubtedly the most euphoric feeling she'd ever known. Her lips parted but no sound escaped, not that it would have mattered. The sweet whimper and sigh in her ear overshadowed any of the ridiculous noises she could have made.

That kind of reaction should have been expected. If holding hands and hugs could ease sadness and pain, then kisses should leave her breathless and sex would probably fucking kill her. Just a hand between her legs blinded her and made her lose concept of time and space.

"How is your head?" Deeks asked, after her, their, breathing returned to normal.

What? Hello, his hand was just down her pants and yet he didn't feel like that was something they needed to discuss. Goodbye boundaries, hello orgasm. Jesus. Cyborgs. She dropped her arm from her face and tried to open her eyes. The pain was already starting to dissipate. "A little better."

"Good." He kissed the top of her head and rolled over, pulling the blankets over his body. "Good night."

Kensi sighed and rolled over as well. Clearly, he didn't want to talk about this. "You didn't finish your story. What happened to the asset?"

"It's a shame we didn't find her soon enough," he answered robotically. A well rehearsed line, it seemed. "She appeared to have gone through quite an ordeal before her death."

She wondered if those lines were forced, or even programmed into his brain. Now it made sense why he got confused and quit telling his story. There was more than one version of it. "A shame," she echoed, but the sentiment was for a different reason. "Good night."