Author's Note – As noted in chapter 1, I got a lot of lovely reviews, favorites and follows for Metaphors and Regrets, and I decided to do a "what happens next" – so this follows directly on the heels of that story. Reading it first will help a lot, just in terms of some references I will make.
The first part of this is case, but the second part gets a bit fluffy. More case action will happen in chapter three, which probably won't be up until the end of the week due to work stuff (though I'll be on a plane late Tuesday and may not be able to sleep, so we'll see!).
No profit to be had here, just having a bit of fun with a show I love.
Thanks to all who favorited, followed and reviewed chapter one! It means a lot to me, and I appreciate all!
"Who paid you?" Kensi slams her hand down on the table in the interrogation room of the boatshed, making the man in the chair on the "bad side" of the table jump. Deeks stands in the corner, leaning against the wall.
To a random observer, one would think he's completely relaxed and barely paying attention. Kensi is aware, however, just how deceiving looks can be. She knows that he's coiled like a spring, likely to take their unwilling witness out if he so much as looks at her funny. A year ago, it would have pissed her off to no end. Today, though, it just makes her feel powerful.
The harbormaster, seated at the interrogation table, was decidedly uncooperative when they questioned him, and he ended up trying to run from them. In making his escape, he'd shoved Deeks into a wall, knocking him off of his feet for a moment. She'd pulled her gun and taken off after the man, with Deeks circling around to cut him off in front of the building after admonishing her for leaving without him.
He'd caught up with them out front and basically clotheslined the guy, who landed hard. He'd started to try to get up again, only to be greeted by the sight of both a Smith & Wesson and a Sig right in his face. They'd zip-tied his wrists, loaded him in the back seat of the SRX and brought him here.
The man, named Ronald Cunningham, is fairly nondescript. Probably 5'9", brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin with a ruddy face that speaks of time in the sun. But his average height puts him about the same height as Kensi, and her clear anger and dislike of the man are making him cringe every time she gets near him.
So far, though, he hasn't given them anything – but Deeks can tell that they're close. Sweat stands out on the suspect's brow, and his eyes are darting every which way, clearly looking for a way out. For about the third time, he stammers, "I want my lawyer."
Kensi slams her hand down on the table again and stalks towards Deeks, her eyes completely calm and telling him to step in. He pulls away from the wall and goes to the table, turning the chair around and straddling it backwards, leaning forward to rest his crossed arms on the back of it as he eyes the suspect. He busts out his best relaxed-surfer drawl when he says, "Mr. Cunningham, here's the thing – I'm a lawyer, and normally, I'd be stopping this right now to get you counsel. But you have a problem, and that problem is an unidentified submarine that was illegally docked at an American port. Your marina, to be exact."
Deeks pauses for effect, and if Kensi wasn't trying so hard to maintain her badass, scary demeanor, she'd have snortlaughed. Deeks goes on, "The Patriot Act is in play now, Mr. Cunningham. We suspect terrorism here. A threat to American people on American soil. That gives us a lot of latitude." He knows he's pushing it, because right now all they really know about is the drugs, but he's playing a hunch. He just knows there's more at work here.
"What? Terrorism? No! They're drug guys, at least that's what they told me. I mean, I don't want anyone to get hurt; I was just trying to pay off my debts. There were a bunch of guys speaking Spanish, and then…" The man's eyes widen, and he starts muttering, "No. Oh shit. No, no, no…"
Deeks and Kensi exchange a look. Pay dirt. He looks back at Mr. Cunningham, who looks up at him, panic in his eyes. "I want a deal."
"That depends on what you have to say." All of the relaxed surfer persona is gone now, replaced with icy steel, his blue eyes glinting with anger and his body suddenly appearing intimidatingly large. If Kensi didn't know him as well as she did, Deeks' near-instant transformation would have startled her.
She forgets sometimes that while Sam is generally bigger – though about the same height - Deeks is also a very big guy, and one who is far stronger and more muscular than his seemingly lanky frame lets on. She knows there's more to him than the t-shirts and flannel show – she's seen him without them, felt the strength under her hands. She shakes her head slightly, inwardly scolding herself for letting her mind wander.
She steps towards the table. "Ronald, usted habla español, ¿no te?" She accuses him of being able to speak Spanish. "You understood something they said."
The man looks at her again, obviously realizing that he needs to fear both of them, not just her. He looks back at Deeks, and flinches at her now-imposing partner. "I know they offloaded whatever they had on the boat, and then some other guys showed up with crates of something. I don't know what it was, I swear."
"What did they look like, the new guys?" Kensi presses the man, not wanting him to stop now that he's going. "Did they look like the drug guys you saw, or were they different?"
He blinks. "Different. They were struggling with the Spanish, and then they started speaking in a different language. I didn't recognize it. But they were darker skinned, dark hair."
"African American?" Deeks speaks up this time.
"No," he shakes his head, "Lighter skin than that. Maybe Arab or Indian?"
Kensi looks at Deeks in surprise and puts a hand on her face as she thinks about this. Deeks isn't stopping, though. "Can you remember anything else? Names, cars, faces, smells?"
"Yes," the man nods, "I can give you descriptions, and," he pauses, clearly thinking. Deeks is about to prompt him again when he blurts out, "Fertilizer! I smelled something like fertilizer."
Kensi's and Deeks' eyes meet in alarm, and simultaneously, they say, "Shit."
Deeks looks down at the man. "Don't move. We have officers on the way who are going to take down the descriptions and take you into custody. But we have tape and know you helped. That won't be forgotten."
He nods. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to…"
Kensi frowns. "Save it. And stop gambling."
"Yes, ma'am." The man hangs his head, and if things weren't such a mess, Deeks might've laughed.
They leave as some other agents enter to get the man's statement and descriptions. Deeks tells one of them to get a sketch artist there ASAP, and they nod as they go into interrogation.
The screen in the room comes to life, and Granger appears with Nell in the background. "Good work, you two. We're running video footage from the area around the marina, and we'll start running the descriptions and also facial recognition if anything pings on the video that matches the descriptions. I've also already got Jones running the fertilizer angle, looking for large purchases or thefts. She and Beale will spell each other tonight. Now, it's after midnight. Go home, and be back here by no later than 7 a.m. I'll call you if we get something earlier."
At this point, they know better than to argue, so they just nod and head for the SRX. She gets behind the wheel, and before he can tell her to just drop him at home, she quietly asks, "Can I stay at yours? I've got my go-bag, and it'll be faster if we get called in."
He could flirt or make an off-color comment, but he realizes that she suddenly seems shy and unsure. Instead, he reaches over and squeezes the hand she has resting on the gear shift. "Works for me, Fern."
She gives him a small smile, and once she puts the car in gear, she reaches for his hand again, entwining her fingers with his. They drive in silence for a long time, almost getting to his apartment before she says, "Do you think they're OK?"
He squeezes her hand again. "Yes. I mean, it's Sam and Callen. They're always OK."
She tries to laugh, but she can't quite manage it. "Their luck is going to run out sooner or later, Marty. From what Sam told me, they came close in Afghanistan when you swooped in like the damned cavalry. How many lives can they really have left?"
He swallows hard at her mention of Afghanistan. He knows he needs to talk to her about what he did over there; he knows it might make the load of it feel a little lighter – but he's not ready. "I don't know, but I have to believe that it's at least one more each, Kens. It sure as hell can't end like this. I mean, trapped on a drug sub turned floating bomb? Really?"
She pulls into a spot in front of his apartment building and turns the car off. She has to snort at that. "Well, when you put it like that, it does sound pretty ridiculous."
They climb out, Kensi grabbing her bag and locking the car behind them. He knows better than to try to carry her bag for her, but as they climb the stairs side-by-side, his hand goes to her lower back again. When he touches her, he's suddenly reminded of the last they actually spent the whole night together here. Arriving at his door, she looks at him, a faint blush high on her cheeks. It occurs to him that she was thinking about the same thing that he was.
Kensi is mortified, because she knows he can see that she's blushing. "Deeks, I didn't ask to come here to…I just, I didn't want…" she finds herself unable to find the right words.
He holds up a hand and leans forward to press a kiss to her forehead. "I know, Kens. And I didn't want to be alone either. Let's go inside, watch a little TV, and pass out. I have some leftover pizza, and I'll buy you donuts on the way to the mission in the morning." He grins at her. "I even have a Top Model marathon DVR'd. I wonder who set that up?"
She laughs. "I needed to have something to watch when I'm over here. I made it record Titanic too."
He unlocks the door and motions for her to go in ahead of him. "I know." Monty runs and greets them, basically ignoring Deeks and nearly knocking Kensi down. Deeks stands there, shaking his head while Monty gives Kensi a tongue-bath while she tries to gently push the enthusiastic dog away. "I see how it is, ungrateful canine."
"Marty, help me!" She sounds exasperated, so he grabs Monty's leash and clips it to his collar, pulling the dog off of Kensi.
She glares at Deeks, and he shrugs. "What can I say? He missed you, Fern."
She wipes at her face with her hands. "Marty, I was here for movie night last week. When do you think I programmed the stupid DVR?"
"Sorry, Fern. Dogs have no concept of time." He grins again. "I'm going to walk the beast. Pizza and beer are in the fridge."
She just shakes her head as he leaves, still chuckling, with Monty. She goes into his room and puts down her bag. Looking around, she sees that the bed is unmade, but she's surprised when she notices that the right side is relatively straight while the left side has clearly been slept in. It strikes her that he let her have the right side when she spent that night with him, just like he did when they were undercover as Justin and Melissa.
Blinking, she realizes that he must have never gone back to sleeping on the right side. For an unknown reason, that realization sends a rush of warmth through her. She shakes her head, deciding that she's making too much of such a small thing.
By the time he gets back with Monty fifteen minutes later, she has changed into some sweats from her go-bag, but with them, she's wearing one of his old LAPD t-shirts. She'll tell him it's because the t-shirt in her bag needed to be washed, but she knows he'll see right through her. When the door opens, she is curled into "her" end of the sofa with a beer in her hand. The warmed-up pizza and another beer are on the table. She's also using the cat pillow as an armrest. Ever since that night after Sidorov, she also thinks of that pillow as hers.
Monty goes to his bed and, after turning around three times, settles down with a huff. After hanging up Monty's leash, Deeks turns to Kensi. Another grin spreads across his face at the sight of her in his t-shirt. Instead of saying anything, though, he just goes to his room to change. A few minutes later, he emerges in sweats and another old LAPD t-shirt.
He settles at the other end of the sofa, and after a beat he says, "If you're going to steal my LAPD t-shirts, we should probably try to get a few more before Bates gets my resignation from Granger."
She stays silent, but a moment later he gets nailed in the shoulder by a flying cat pillow. He looks over to see her tune the TV to a Top Model episode and dig into the pizza as if nothing just happened. He grabs a slice of pizza and mutters, "You owe another dollar."
She raises an eyebrow at him. "I do not!"
After swallowing the bite he just took, he argues, "How do you figure that, Fern? You just hit me."
"I did not hit you, Counselor. I threw a pillow at you. Our deal did not include projectiles." He opens and closes his mouth, speechless for once. She laughs and grabs a second piece of pizza. "And it was a pillow. A tiny little cat pillow. Big baby." She leans over and kisses the place where the pillow got him, though, and she gives him a slightly apologetic look.
He shakes his head, and he chuckles a little. "What am I going to do with you, Fern?" He puts down his pizza and passes the cat pillow back to her.
She knows that's his way of telling her he isn't upset with her, and she smiles and snuggles into his side, one arm wrapping around his waist. They sit there like that for a short while, watching TV as they finish their dinner. After less than twenty minutes, he realizes that she's sound asleep next to him. He considers staying there on the sofa, but he knows they'll probably both be hurting in the morning if they sleep here.
"Kens?" His voice is soft as he tries to get her to stir. She just mumbles his name while moving closer to him. He doesn't want to startle her, but he also really wants to move to the bed where they can stretch out. He leans down and whispers in her ear, "Princess, I'm going to lift you, OK? Don't freak out, it's just me." He's worried that given her recent experiences in Afghanistan, scaring her could have some pretty nasty repercussions.
She nods sleepily, so he takes a deep breath and shifts enough to get an arm around her shoulders and another under her knees. He repositions her into his lap and stands up carefully, cradling her in a bridal carry. She blinks for a moment at the feeling of being moved, and he feels her tense slightly. He looks at her face, and he can see panic flash through her now-open eyes.
He quickly presses a kiss to her temple. "Fern, baby girl, it's Deeks. You're safe."
She mentally struggles for a moment, trying to clear out the panic and terror suddenly trying to take over. The feeling of being lifted unexpectedly made her feel out of control, something she never liked but likes even less now. But Deeks' voice cuts through that, and she focuses on him. She inhales through her nose, and she relaxes again at the smell of the beach and saltwater that always seems to follow him.
The fear lingers, but she manages to cling to him and mumble, "I'm good."
He takes that as permission to move, so he carries her to the bedroom and sets her down on the right side of the bed. He pulls the covers back, and she lifts up enough to help him work them under her and cover her up. He turns to go back to the living room, and she reaches out to grab his hand. "Where're you going?"
Her voice actually sounds a little hurt to him, so he drops to his knees next to the bed. He brushes a hand through her hair and leans in, this time dropping a gentle kiss to her lips. "Just to turn the lights off and turn off the TV. I'll be right back."
True to his word, a few minutes later she feels him slip into the bed on the left side. She instinctively moves towards him, and his arms snake out and pull her in close to his chest. Neither of them say anything, but as they drift off they're both thinking that it's going to be hard to sleep alone after this.
It feels like it's only minutes later when a ringing phone pulls them both out of sleep, and Kensi is puzzled when she realizes that the ringer she hears is the song from How the Grinch Stole Christmas. She feels Deeks grope towards his night stand, and after a second or two, he mutters, "What can we do for you, Granger?"
Kensi's fuzzy brain links up the ringtone and the caller, and she has to swallow back a laugh. While she listens to their low conversation, she grabs her own phone. She groans when she's sees that it's just past 4:30 am, meaning they slept for just over three hours.
She hears Deeks say, "OK, we're on our way, should be there before 5:30. We'll bring enough donuts for everyone," he pauses, "Trust me, Director, the donuts are a necessity."
When he hangs up, he looks at her. "Ronald's help panned out. We've got a line on one of the guys he saw at the marina."
She wakes up completely at that. "Does Granger have a plan?"
"Sounds like it." He rolls away from her and out of his side of the bed, staggering into the bathroom.
By the time he comes out a short while later, she is up as well. "Shower?"
He nods. "Yeah. I'll go turn on the coffee. You can go first."
"OK." She turns for the bathroom but pauses. "Marty?"
He looks up from where he's rifling through a drawer for something to wear. "What's up?"
She blushes slightly. "Go start the coffee, but you can join me in the shower if you want to." He goes a little slack-jawed in surprise at that, and she looks down. "Only if you want to. It's not a come-on, I just thought it would be…faster, and, you know, it's not like we haven't seen each other naked." She can't look at him, and the ensuing silence makes her want the earth to just open up and swallow her whole. "Sorry, never mind. I'll just be quick." She turns for the bathroom again.
He is stunned by her offer, but her last words spur him to action. "Wait, Kens." He catches her arm gently. When she looks up at him, he can see how embarrassed she is, and he can't stand it. He leans down and, cupping her cheek with one hand, presses a soft kiss to her lips. "That's a great idea, and I'd love to if you're completely sure. I just don't want you uncomfortable, Princess."
She looks into his eyes with a trust so absolute that he actually feels humbled by it. "I'm sure, Marty. Go do the coffee, and I'll start the water."
"Sounds like a plan, Fern." She nods and goes into the bathroom, and he hears the water start as he heads to the kitchen. Despite everything, he can't stop the goofy grin that he gets on his face as he checks the water level in his Keurig and flips it on. As he heads back to the bathroom, under his breath, he mutters, "Well, at least for today, looks like our Thing is going OK."