December 6, 2012
"Who did you get?"
Kensi blinks over at her partner. They're staring at a suspect's house, just waiting. Surveillance is the irritating unfortunate part of their jobs, not that Kensi would ever admit that out loud. She hates it, it's boring for someone who likes a little more action, and it opens up time for this.
She hasn't been avoiding Deeks. Not really. She's just been busy with other things. Christmas things. Okay, she's been feeling a little guilty, but not much. As much as she loved Christmas as a child and as much as she is looking to rekindle her own Christmas spirit, Deeks' over the top adoration of the holiday can be exhausting. She wants to find her Christmas spirit, not be beat over the head with it.
It's helps that she has literally no idea what he's talking about.
"The little slip of paper. Behind door number six."
She's still drawing a blank until he withdraws a little green piece of paper. It's thin and folded in half and she's kind of impressed he was able to find it in his pocket with all the crap he generally has stuffed in there.
She'd been in a bit of a rush. So much so, she'd almost forgot about today's door. Honestly, she's a little worse for wear this morning. She's not as focused as she usually is. She blames Callen. They'd watched How the Grinch Stole Christmas then It's a Wonderful Life and somewhere in the middle of the second she'd passed out. Literally dead to the world. She'd woken up when the credits had rolled to find herself cuddled into Callen's shoulder.
. . . . .
She sits up quickly, embarrassed and blushing to her hairline. In fact, she's pretty sure her even her hairline's blushing. Callen doesn't seem fazed.
She's a cuddler. Always has been. Jack, her dad when she was a kid, hell, that one time she and her best friend had ended up spooned together at a sleepover. She's just that type of a person. She's pretty sure a psychologist would tell her it has something to do with affection, but it's not like she was starved for it as a child. Or maybe it's because she wasn't. She can't keep the theories straight.
Callen stretches, looking over at her. "I watched that one as a kid. Once."
He says it so nonchalantly she almost shrugs it off. She thinks about it, but then busies herself ejecting his USB drive and shutting down her computer. Callen will talk when he's ready. And if he's not, well, she's trying to be good about not pushing Christmas. It's not the kind of thing she can shove on him.
He takes it from her and she tries not to think about the way his fingers brush against hers. Because it's Callen, and she doesn't get tingles from Callen just because they're exchanging a USB key. Then she makes the mistake of looking up and he's there, his eyes that intense blue that makes her shiver.
"One of the good ones."
She wonders if it's permission and opens her mouth to ask, but he's already moving. She bites her lip for a moment while his back is turned – she knows it's her biggest tell and she has to consciously try and avoid it when someone's looking at her – before she says, "How many good ones did you have?"
It's a bold question, and she expects to be rebuffed. Instead, his eyes flick away in a gesture so uncharacteristic, it sends her blood pounding. "Not enough."
. . . . .
He'd left before she could say anything else, not that she blames him. She knows how hard it is to talk about those dark shadows and really, she thinks that a bunch of bad foster homes ended up churning out a rather remarkable man, considering. Not that she's even really reflecting on that.
God, maybe the advent calendar hadn't been a good idea. They're six days in and she cannot stop thinking about it. About him. About everything they're doing and not doing. She can't get him out of her head and she's feeling more than a little ridiculous about it.
"Kens?"
She starts back to Deeks, who's eyeing her like she's insane. "Uh, I haven't looked."
He arches an eyebrow, waiting. He's not patient and his knee bounces as she fumbles her own green slip from where she'd managed to wedge it in her pocket.
She opens it and blinks. "Nell."
"Trade you!"
She jumps. It's getting ridiculous and it makes absolutely no sense. Deeks can't actually read her mind, so it's not like he has any idea what's going on in hers. "No! Why?"
"Please?"
"No," she says again. She knows better than to agree blindly to anything Deeks wants.
He whines. Actually, really whines. It makes her grit her teeth. He's been worse than a sugar-hyped child now that the holiday season has started in earnest. She's wanted to kill him nine days out of ten. Or six out of the last six. She thinks about punching him. Hard.
"Oh my God, Deeks, seriously. It's Christmas. And you are a grown man – mostly."
He grins unrepentantly because he knows exactly how to push all of her buttons and even she can feel that she's seconds from caving. If only to shut him up.
"Who did you get?" Her voice is hard. Solid. The voice she uses when he's being particularly irritating. She goes as far as to emphasize each individual word.
"Callen."
Her stomach jumps and she curses herself for it. It is a terrible idea to let Deeks buy for Callen it what is obviously a Secret Santa arrangement, but she feels like it would be stupid for her to do it too. They're already doing so much, why would she add Secret Santa on top? And there's something else niggling at her that makes her reluctant.
But also makes her bold.
She snatches the paper from Deeks' hand, ignoring his triumphant crowing and letting him believe he'd worn her down. He plucks Nell's name when she holds it out in her palm.
Her stomach flips as she tucks Callen's name into her pocket.
Necessarily short.
Please don't hate me!
Also, mistakes are mine and I apologize for them. I'll see what I can do for paying attention to them a little better.
I'm going to keep working away at these. Let me know if there's anything you want to see, yeah? Other than Nell and Eric kissing, 'cause it'll happen. More. Because we've all seen the trailer with the kiss. Guh.
