Kensi and Deeks were in Deeks' apartment with the sun just starting to set. It had been a long few days of basically living at the Mission and not sleeping for more than cat naps at a time. They'd got their guy though, which was good. And before he'd managed to blow up a shopping centre which was even better.

Surprisingly, all of them were not dead on their feet when Hetty chivvied them home - saying reports could wait. No one was going to argue with that pronouncement so they all headed home, still riding the high of adrenaline. Hetty just hoped that they managed to get home before the inevitable crash came.

Knowing that his partner had absolutely nothing in her cupboards except for some squeezy bottles of salad dressing (that were more than likely out of date to boot), Deeks had invited her over for dinner. Bribing her with a proper home cooked meal.

"I was just going to get a take-out," she had protested it but he'd pushed, not really wanting to be alone just yet and he knew she didn't either.

"Take-out or home-cooked meal?" Deeks asked her, pretending to weigh the options himself. "Yeah, home-cooked meal."

That got him a raised eyebrow from his partner but she didn't disagree. So, he happily led the way over to his place. His was closer anyway.

"Are you sure? It's been a long day."

She was still arguing with him about dinner. Seriously. Gift horses, anyone?

"Do you not like my cooking, Kensalina? I'm so insulted," he asked only half teasingly, putting a hand over his heart.

With the way she kept going on about getting take-out a guy couldn't help but wonder.

"No, Deeks, I do. Really," she protested assuringly. "It just doesn't seem fair, you doing even more work all by yourself after this week."

Yeah, they had a brief argument over her helping. Which was a resounding no from him. He wasn't letting her anywhere near his oven or stove. Or the fridge or the microwave for that matter. Deeks had seen the state of hers after one of her cooking attempts. He still wasn't entirely sure how she managed to make tinned soup explode when it was in a pot...You know what? He didn't want to know. It was too terrifying a thing to consider.

She had huffed and puffed a bit (and thankfully not blown his place down) but had eventually acquiesced. It wasn't like his partner even liked cooking never mind produce something edible. Honestly, Deeks didn't know how she even fed herself properly when he wasn't around. She must manage something because she hadn't withered away into nothingness.

Anyway, he had a system going. A highly effective one, if he said so himself. And he did. Everything was streamlined for ease, speed and optimal taste. When he had informed her of this Kensi had scoffed at him and sat down to watch.

"Well, what can I do to help?" she asked, evidentally not liking the idea of doing nothing while he bustled around her.

She never did like feeling inept.

"Sit there and look pretty," he told her cheekily and quickly added, "Holding food, here!" taking a large step back and waving the tray of chicken breasts at her as she shot him a dangerous look.

"Really?"

"It helps me," he tried to say convincingly.

Deeks really should know by now that this was most likely a hole he couldn't dig himself out of.

"How exactly is me sitting meant to help you?"

"Inspiration?"

That got him a disbelieving raised eyebrow.

"Inspiration? For a pre-planned meal? Why exactly did you have enough food for at least three people already prepped anyway?"

Deeks decided that this was a very good time to look away and busy himself with, uh, inspecting the sauce in the pot. Which wasn't even warm yet never mind cooking.

He didn't exactly want to explain that he'd really planned this meal with her in mind. He just had needed a way to get her to stay for dinner. Sure, she was over often enough for movie nights and just to hang out but in those cases, they either didn't eat or got take-out because they were feeling lazy. This case this week had proved the perfect cover.

"Deeks."

"Oh, you know me. Always prepared."

Deeks shot his partner a grin for good measure. It didn't change the suspicious look.

"We can talk over dinner," said Deeks hurriedly, darting over to the bubbling pot and taking it off the stove. "You're distracting me."

"Do you know how ominous that sounds?" Kensi asked, following him over and inhaling deeply.

The sauce smelt really, really good, okay?

Deeks chuckled at her and nudged her away.

"No getting in the way of my cooking," he teasingly scolded. "And why would it be ominous? We're not talking about anything bad."

"I beg to differ," Kensi muttered under her breath as Deeks turned away to taste the sauce.

"What was that?" Deeks asked, hearing a noise from her.

She shook her head.

"Nothing. And the phrase 'we need to talk' is never a good one," she told him.

"But I didn't say that," Deeks pointed out. "I said 'we can talk'."

"Same thing," Kensi answered with a shrug.

"Not really."

Kensi gave her partner a look.

"It's not," Deeks replied defensively. "The phrase 'We need to talk' implies that somethings gone wrong or is about to go wrong and 'We can talk' implies that there's something to discuss."

Kensi didn't know how to respond to that so she rolled her eyes at him instead.

"I just meant don't talk to me when I'm making food, not that there's something to talk about," he continued then his eyes narrowed at her suspiciously. "Unless there's something you want to talk about."

"Nope," Kensi said quickly, shaking her head.

Deeks gave her a long look before accepting that statement as the truth and smiling at her and nodding.

"Cool, now, don't interrupt the chef," he chided.

"Chef? Really?"