A/N:- Malia Amane. Beta. Props. Enjoy. Yada yada yada
Disclaimer:- Not mine.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" screamed Comiskey, rising suddenly to his feet. With a surprising amount of ease, Sam shoved him one-handed back down into the chair. Callen, meanwhile, had succeeded in manhandling Rachel up, pinning her arms painfully behind her back.
Sam could feel the tension in his jaw, feel his teeth grinding together. It took all he had not to rear back and slug the marine – false marine as far as he was concerned – right in the face. He kept his arm on Comiskey's shoulder, forcing him to stay down, as he watched Callen drag his hysterical wife from the interrogation room.
"What's going on?" demanded Comiskey, his voice matching his wife's panic. "Where are you taking her?"
"GitMo," hissed Sam. "But don't worry; you'll be joining her there soon enough."
"What are you…?" he began, before the words stuck in his throat. He tried again: "What are you talking about?"
"Colluding with enemy combatants," said Callen, returning to the room after leaving Rachel with the two other agents in his team. "Cause that's what she's doing. Colluding with you."
"I'm not…" Comiskey began. "Leave her out of this."
"We'd love to," Sam growled. "But you're the one who brought her into this, when you asked her to cover for you and your terrorist buddies."
"T-T-Terro…" he stammered. Sam could feel the life slip out of the other man's frame. He turned pleading eyes on Callen. "No, look, look, you've got it all wrong. It was just jewellery. We just wanted to make some money."
"Really?" Callen replied. He opened the file before him, dropping documents onto the table before him. "This is a transcript of email conversations between your NCO and a high ranking al-Qaeda officer. This is confirmation that Gunnery Sergeant Quiggin built a functioning bomb; a bomb that he plans to detonate in Los Angeles tonight. And this is proof that you and your squad mates smuggled the nuclear material he needed back from Afghanistan."
Comiskey went white as a sheet, his eyes wide and bugging. For a moment, his mouth moved, but he was unable to form words.
"So what happened, Comiskey?" said Callen. "You all just suddenly decide that you want to blow up some innocent civilians, cause… I don't know, is there a good enough reason to not only turn your back on your own country, but attack it in the most cowardly way imaginable?"
"I don't…" Comiskey tried.
Callen tossed two more pictures on the desk; crime scene images of Schmidt and Jenkins. "Or did he lie to you too? Cause this is what happened to those of your squad who found out the truth." It was a hell of a bluff, but an educated one, and Sam could see that Comiskey was genuinely shocked by the revelation. His reactions were too real, his fear too palpable. He'd lay money on the fact that, had Comiskey not snuck off to meet his wife, there would probably have been three bodies found today.
"You gotta help us," said Sam. "You know it's the right thing to do."
"Where are they?" his partner pressed. Comiskey hung his head, and Sam knew they'd finally broken him.
Hungrily, Deeks crashed his lips against Kensi's. His hands clamped onto her waist, and she found herself being shoved back roughly, so that her spine slammed into the hard brick wall. Her arm came up, grabbing him by the back of the head, pressing against him, pushing him closer to her. In her chest, she could feel her heart hammering, racing, desperate. His lips were so warm, so soft, so inviting, and she let her own open, partly from desire and partly to let the gentle moan squeak out from her tattered lungs.
Kensi let her leg rise, wrapping her calf around the back of his thigh, pressing against him. His weight on her increased, pressing her harder against the unyielding wall of the warehouse. It took her a few seconds to realise her hips were writhing, that she was rubbing the sweet spot of her groin against the hardening in his.
Deeks panted, his breath laboured against the kiss, and his tongue slipped out to run across her lips. Hers swept out to meet it, the tips playing together in the space between their open mouths.
"Anything yet," came the sudden voice of Callen in her ear, making her start.
With an enormous display of willpower, Kensi managed to tug Deeks away from her, using a fistful of golden locks, and turned her head to the side. Without missing a beat, Deeks nuzzled eagerly against her slender neck, while she surveyed the building opposite them. "Nothing yet," she managed, voice quivering. "No sentries so far."
There was a pause over the comms, and Kensi busied herself running her splayed palms over Deeks' broad back. His lips kissed and licked playfully at the pulse point on her throat, sending spurs of electricity dancing through her frame.
"What are you two doing?" asked Callen.
"What do you mean?" Kensi said, trying to keep her voice steady.
"What are all those weird noises?"
"We're doing what you told us to do," replied Deeks, and Kensi fought the whimper that formed now that his mouth was no longer on her.
"I told you two to pretend to be a drunk couple, and get as close to the warehouse as you could," said Callen. "We need a look inside."
"And that's what we're doing," Kensi confirmed.
"Is this how you two normally are when you get drunk together?"
"No," they both lied in unison.
"You do know Eric managed to get a camera up, and can see everything you're doing?"
"Well, you know Deeks," said Kensi, feeling especially brazen and kissing her boyfriend squarely on the lips. "He has to be method all the time."
Deeks grinned back at her. Kensi felt a thrill rushing through her body; she knew she wasn't into very public stuff, but there was just something about making out with Deeks while knowing that Ops could hear every sound they made, every moan and sigh, that just… it just aroused her. Besides, it wasn't like they were doing anything more than kissing, and the more realistic it looked, the better the chances that anyone watching wouldn't suspect they were anything other than just a young couple in love.
It certainly isn't like we're having sex or anything.
Even as the thought brushed Kensi's mind, she regretted it. Instantly, she could see them both, as if she were outside her own body, as they tore at each other's clothes, as they hurried to bring the other to completion, as Deeks drove himself into her again and again. Not caring who saw them, or what they thought. It was only the sudden reminder that there was a dirty nuclear weapon inside the building that stayed her hand, which she suddenly realised was achingly close to Deeks' belt.
"Trust us, Callen," said Deeks, licking Kensi on the cheek. She giggled, and he pulled her quickly away from the wall. "We know what we're doing." He linked his arm around Kensi's, staggering back into the middle of the alleyway. She leant heavily against him, feigning being unsteady on her feet. She giggled again, as girlish as she could manage, even as her heart still raced in her chest and her hands ached to run themselves across his naked flesh. Deeks theatrically shushed her, stretching the hiss out around a finger that covered his lips.
They staggered on, clutching each other as if they were a life line. Deeks twisted his neck towards her, pressing his lips to hers once more. "Still nothing," he managed, around smushed lips. "Callen, you sure this is the right place?"
"It's where Comiskey said they'll be," said Callen. "And I don't think he'd lie to us, not about this. Not now."
"And you've got nothing your end?"
"No," replied Callen. He and his partner were sat on overwatch in the Challenger, over by the main entrance of the structure, leaving the two junior agents to sneak in towards the back. The satellite check Nell and Eric had run had proven fruitless, with no signs of movement, so they had needed to have physical eyes on the building before they could plan their next move. "But then, me and Sam aren't making out, so maybe we missed something?"
Kensi knew she should blush at that, but for some reason, she didn't. Instead, she just kissed Deeks again.
"Hey," said Deeks, as he pulled his lips from hers. "Don't you worry about me, it's not the first time I've had to make out with someone as part of an op, and wow, now that I think about it, that was really the worst thing I could have said, wasn't it?"
"Not a good move, Deeks," said Callen.
"Yeah," came Sam's voice. "Guess you really weren't listening to me when I tried to help you out." Both the other agents sounded like they were having far too much fun with it.
Deeks grinned sheepishly at her. "I'm gonna pay for that at some point, aren't I?"
Kensi kept her voice neutral, tapping her boyfriend gently on his cheek. "Maybe, maybe not," she replied, managing to fight the playful grin. She knew Deeks hadn't meant anything by that, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to have a little fun at his expense. "Guess you'll just have to stay on your toes."
Deeks groaned.
Moments later, they'd staggered, in their faux-drunken state, to the dark squat warehouse that Comiskey said the marines had used to store the things they'd smuggled from Afghanistan. Kensi clung to Deeks, feeling the reassuring weight of his presence, but her eyes were already skimming with practiced focus over every doorway and window. There were no external signs of life, no lights shining from within.
"Still nothing," she said. "These guys are pros; there should be at least one guard out here."
"Maybe they're busy?" Deeks asked. "I mean, they are three men down, so maybe they need all the help they can inside?"
"No," replied Sam, over the comms. "Kensi's right; defending places is what these guys do, and that's rule number one."
"Stay frosty out there," added Callen.
Deeks turned to Kensi, confusion on his face, and mouthed 'Frosty?' at her. She arched an eyebrow, gesturing towards the building with a nod of her head. He stumbled on, half dragging her with him, until they reached the doorway to the warehouse that Comiksey had given them. Kensi suddenly found herself slammed hard against the wall again, and her partner's mouth on hers. She let out a moan before she could fight it, her hands automatically going into his hair.
Then, Deeks pulled his mouth away, and she embarrassed herself by whimpering softly. Deeks turned from her, facing out into the alleyway, eyes travelling up and down, the intoxicated act slipping instantly from him. While he stood watch over her, Kensi gingerly tested the door handle. Locked. But that didn't last long, as seconds later she had her lock pick kit out, and had jimmied it open. Her hand went to the grip of her SIG, feeling the cold comforting metal beneath her palm, as she eased the door open fully.
"Come on, baby," she said, louder than normal for the benefit of anyone inside, and putting a slur on her words. "This one's open."
Inside the warehouse was darkness, the only light streaming in from street lamps through the high windows. The warehouse was large, open. And very, very, empty.
"Callen," Kensi said, all traces of her cover gone. "There's nothing here."
"Comiskey is adamant that that's the right address," said Callen, as he and Sam swept back into Ops.
"Tell me you had some luck from the CCTV cameras, Eric," said Sam.
The Tech Whiz swivelled in his chair, bringing up a whole mass of information, before a camera feed enlarged in the centre. On it, the front of the warehouse was clearly visible. "Turns out Comiskey was right," he said. "It's just that his information was out of date. While he sat stewing in the boat shed, the pickup that dumped the marines' bodies returned."
"How long ago?" Callen asked.
"About five hours," Nell said. "About twenty minutes later, we spotted this." On screen, a group of men – roughly a dozen in number – exited the warehouse, flanking around a forklift truck. On the long prongs was a covered pallet, large and heavy by the looks of things. The forklift deposited the crate on the truck, and it's rear wheels sunk at the weight. The footage stopped. "We're guessing the crate was the bomb. Weight and size seems to tie up."
"There's more people there than there should be," commented Kensi.
"Yeah," added Deeks. "Especially since the squad is a few men down. Who are the others?"
Using a complicated series of commands on his tablet, Eric highlighted sections of the frozen image, enlarging them. Seconds later, facial matches sprung up. "They're a mixture of Afghani and Iraqi nationals, most of them here on expired student visas."
Deeks shook his head. "It's always the few bad apples that want to ruin it for everyone else."
"Such is the way of the vocal minority, Detective," said Hetty, suddenly blossoming by his side. She turned to Eric. "You have a location on the pickup?"
"No," he replied, almost as if reluctant. "But the kaleidoscope search is still running."
"Make it run faster," she ordered.
"It doesn't…" Eric began, before thinking better about it.
"It's a domino chain," said Hetty. "SECNAV is leaning on Director Vance. And the reason SECNAV is leaning on me is because his boss, the President of the United States, is justifiably concerned and is leaning on him. Director Vance leans on Assistant Director Granger, who in turn is leaning on me. So I, Mr. Callen, am leaning on you."
"And I'm leaning on my team," Callen replied.
"And we lean on Deeks," added Kensi.
Deeks looked up. "Wait, what? What do, wh-, who do I get to lean on?" he asked.
"No one," replied his partner, smiling wickedly. "Unless there's a species of cockroach working for NCIS, and even then you're probably both equal."
"This is for earlier, isn't it?"
"Maybe."
"Cause you know I didn't mean it."
"And like I said-"
"Guys," snapped Callen, cutting them both off, shaking his head. "Isn't the time."
Sam crossed his arms, staring intently at the screen before them. "So what's our next move?"
"Next?" Callen echoed. "There's nothing we can do but wait."