Chapter Six: Boys Always Work It Out

With a startled yelp, Deeks seemed to leap his own height in the air as Renko's hand caressed his butt lovingly. All of a sudden he knew exactly what girls meant when they complained about wandering hand trouble. Not that they ever complained to him, of course.

"My friend's not that sort of girl," a menacing voice behind Renko said.

"I'm not any sort of girl," Deeks amplified. He turned around and glared at Renko. "Keep your hands to yourself, buddy or you'll be spitting out teeth for the next couple of days." Renko paled by at least two shades as he heard the unmistakably male tones issuing from the pretty face.

"What the man said." Callen studied Renko with disdain. "So this is your natural habitat, is it? Interesting."

"That's rich, coming from a man in drag."

"I'm on a job. We all are. What's your excuse?"

Renko decided that a change of tack was the best solution if his private life was to remain just that and turned his attention back to Deeks. "Kensi said you were called Marti." It was not immediately apparent if he was disappointed or titillated, or even both.

"I am." Deeks stared at him. "And that gives you liberty to touch me up how?"

"Marti's a girl's name."

"Not when it's short for Martin, it isn't," Callen informed him.

"You make a lousy girl, Callen." Renko shifted gear once again.

"Is that supposed to bother me? You think I want to look like a girl and risk get felt up by creeps like you?" Callen was starting to feel better about being the ugly sister of the trio, if it meant he didn't have to have creeps like Renko running their lascivious hands all over his body. Although it would mortifying if he was the only one who wasn't at least flirted with tonight. "Listen, seeing you're here, you might as well make yourself useful. We're looking for some Thai sailors who've been selling contaminated coke to Marines. So keep your eyes peeled, okay?"

"Will do." Renko slunk off towards the bar. Maybe I'll manage to dance with Marti later on, although Callen seemed almost suspiciously protective. Maybe that was why he's acted like that – because he reckoned I was muscling in on his date? Well, I don't mind sharing. That Marti looks like a real little goer, a prime dame. A threesome's fine with me, as long as I don't have to look at Callen.

"Nice friends you have, Callen. He didn't even offer to buy me a drink." Deeks pouted, the effect only being magnified by the pastel pink lipgloss.

Sam heaved a martyred sigh. "Subtle as ever, Deeks. What do you want?"

"My usual."

"Deeks – ladies don't drink neat whiskey. Or beer straight out of the bottle."

"Kensi does."

"How many times do I have to tell you – Kensi's not like other women."

"Really? What am I like then?" Kensi glared at Sam. "Are you trying to tell me there are men, women and Kensis? Like I'm some sort of indeterminate gender?"

"Actually, we like to call ourselves intersex. I can see you're clearly confused about your gender, dear." The woman had the nerve to pat Kensi condescendingly on her arm. "Why not come to one of our meetings? We know what you're going through and how hard it can be. We can help you get through this."

In somewhat of a daze, Kensi found herself accepting the business card with "The 3rd Way – not freaks, just people" emblazoned on it. "Get me a drink. Scotch, preferably. On the rocks. Actually, make it a double. And make it quick." This had to rate as the most embarrassing night of her life, bar none. It was even worse than the time Nate made her go line-dancing. She shoved the hateful card into the pocket of her pants.

"How come she gets scotch and I don't?" Deeks whinged.

"Because she's Kensi. And we've already been through that. Just choose something more feminine."

"I'll have a mimosa," Callen said.

"No way. You're so not worth it. Be a cheap date for once and have white wine and soda. Come on, Deeks – make up your mind."

"Have a cosmopolitan," Kensi suggested.

"What is it with women and cranberry juice?"

She looked at him. "Very funny."

"No – seriously. Why do women drink the stuff all the time?" He was genuinely curious.

"This isn't the time or the place. But put it this way, you're never going to have that problem." Mind you, given how tight those panties are, you might be in for a nasty surprise.

Sam bent down to whisper in his ear. "They don't call it the "honeymoon disease" for nothing, you know."

Deeks barely repressed a shudder. "I'll just have a Martini."

"With a little dinky umbrella and a maraschino cherry?" Sam teased.

"Yes. Both of them." Why not just live the dream? Deeks looked across at the dance floor as Bad Romance started to play. "That's Hetty's current favourite."

"You dancing?" Kensi was quite partial to it as well.

"You asking?" He stared challengingly at her.

"I'm asking." Kensi held out her hand.

"I'm dancing."

The dance floor was packed, but Kensi pushed her way through and found a clear spot. She'd never danced with Deeks before and was relieved that he was nothing like Nate, who favoured a style that could best be described as "modified windmill". Actually, Deeks was quite a decent dancer. No, make that a bloody amazing dancer.

"You know all the moves!"

"Yup." He grinned at her. "We practice in the men's room every Friday. Me, Sam and Callen. Like a boy band, only without the singing. Actually, that makes us exactly like a boy band. Hetty's our choreographer."

"Very funny."

"So I go to clubs. Why's that such a big surprise?"

"I just never had you pegged for a Lady Gaga fan, that all." Kensi found herself wishing they were in a different club, wearing different clothes and without Sam and Callen.

Deeks shrugged. "There's a lot about me you don't know." Like how turned on I am by the fact I can see your breasts through that top. Or rather, how turned on I would be if my testicles weren't being squashed like one of those stress balls.

All of a sudden, Kensi felt herself being pushed aside, just as Vogue started to blare out. "My dance." A short Thai stared at Deeks in delight. They exchanged glances above his head and Kensi went off in search of Callen and Sam, as Deeks segued effortlessly into his best Madonna impersonation. It was disturbingly good, Kensi thought. He really did have slinky hips.

"Deeks has pulled," she announced.

"Big deal. Deeks always pulls."

"What do you mean?" Kensi sounded incredibly indignant.

"Whenever we go out, Deeks gets a lady," Callen explained, as if to a slightly dim child.

"Sometimes more than one. At the same time," Sam amplified.

"No – what do you mean – when you go out? What about me?" For some reason, Kensi felt absurdly hurt.

"We're not allowed a boy's night out? Besides, you'd cramp our style."

"I'm not cramping Deeks' style, am I?" Kensi said sourly, and then suddenly remembered why they were all here. "And it looks like one of our Thai sailors thinks this is his lucky night. With any luck his buddies are here too."

"I wonder if it's Deeks' lucky night too?" Sam swallowed his Manhattan in one gulp and stalked toward the dance floor, where the Thai sailor had his head happily buried between Deeks' chicken-fillet breasts and both hands firmly clutching his butt cheeks.

"Help," he mouthed.

"It seems a shame to break them up, doesn't it?" Callen mused.

"You're just jealous," Deeks hissed. "Even in drag, I'm still the first one to pull."

"Yeah, but the difference is that this time I really don't fancy yours."