Life, Lies and Video Surveillance
By Cortexikid
Chapter 21: Noggle
A/N: A little fun/teasing/humour is needed before the next four chapters because they're mostly gonna be tough on the angst and hurt/comfort scale (but I will inject some quips wherever/whenever I can). So, enjoy! Hope you guys like it!
NOTE: The last scene in this chapter is a direct prequel to the IV part storyline coming up in chapter 22.
Disclaimer: NCIS: LA isn't mine. I weep internally. And externally, until I resemble a raccoon. Yeah, it ain't pretty :/
WOTD: NOGGLE; nog·gle verb. To walk awkwardly
"Why do they always run?" Marty Deeks yelled over his shoulder as he and his partner Kensi Blye chased two suspects up a deserted street in down-town Los Angeles.
The brunette shook her head in response and picked up the pace, tackling the thinner of the suspects to the ground, scuffling to subdue him as the detective caught up with the larger man (who was a surprisingly good runner for his robust stature) only to be caught at a dead-end.
Whirling around the bulky guy swung to punch Deeks in the face who swiftly dodged it, clocking him in the jaw. The suspect stumbled back clutching his face with one hand whilst pulling a blade from the waistband of his pants with the other.
"Deeks watch out!" Kensi yelled, punching her convict and tying his hands behind his back before watching in horror as her partner was advanced on by the large man welding a long, sharp knife.
Before she could fire off a shot, the man barrelled into the blond detective, causing both of them to tumble to the ground, Deeks' face squashed into the pavement.
"Oomph!" he exclaimed as the three-hundred-pound con landed on his back, knocking the wind from his lungs. Despite the weight constricting his movement and oxygen intake, the cop wasn't giving in easily and catapulted his skull backwards into the stout man's face, smirking in satisfaction as he roared in pain.
In retaliation, the con lashed out with his knife to any part of the cop he could reach, it tearing through the denim of Deeks' jeans, leaving a bloody trail of crimson in its wake.
"Drop the knife and get up slowly, hands where I can see 'em," Kensi's voice ordered from somewhere above them, digging her gun into the hefty neck of their suspect.
The clatter of the crimson-stained knife hitting the ground was quickly followed by a tremendous weight lifting from Deeks' back, he taking a gratefully deep breath. Ignoring the trickle of liquid running down his leg and grumbling under his breath, he scrambled up, gritting his teeth at the pain before aiming his weapon down into the now bloody face of one pissed off convict.
"Wanna know the moral of this story big guy?" Deeks asked as he leaned over the man who glared up at him.
"Always bring a gun to a knife-fight."
Kensi grabbed two beers from the fridge and went to make herself comfortable on the couch. After a few moments, her partner stepped out of the bathroom, a grimace shooting across his face as he walked awkwardly towards her, his legs sprawled wide as if he just dismounted a horse.
"Ow, ow, ow!" Deeks exclaimed as he lowered himself gently onto his couch.
Kensi barely suppressed a smirk, forcing herself to swallow a chuckle. As she watched him struggle to get comfortable, she tried (and epically failed) to school her expression into something marginally empathetic.
"How you feelin' partner?" she asked, her voice a little tight as she tried to control the bubble of laughter that threatened to erupt from her.
Her wounded companion looked up from where he was glaring at his coffee table as if it personally offended him.
"Like I got stabbed in the ass," he replied, a trace of irritation lacing his tone.
Kensi bit her lip and had to avert her eyes to the beer in her hand as he shifted on the chair again, a groan of discomfort escaping his lips.
"I thought you said it was lower back?" she smirked, peeling off the bottle's label.
Deeks winced as he tried to rest against the freezing-cold ice-pack.
"Yeah, like really low," he grumbled, his eyes trained on Monty as he padded over to the couch and stared up adoringly at his master, begging for permission to hop up beside him.
Kensi leaned forward and patted the space next to her, grinning as the scruffy mutt leapt up without as much as a questioning glance to his owner, tail wagging incessantly. Deeks' glare bore into her like a red-hot poker from the fiery pits of hell. This time, the brunette just couldn't help the chuckle, her shoulders shaking vigorously.
"Are you laughing at me Kensi Blye?"
"Wouldn't dream of it Marty Deeks," she replied quickly, patting Monty's head and taking another swig of beer.
It was at that moment that the detective dropped the other ice-pack, it landing on his living room floor with a reverberating smack. With a roll of her eyes, the agent jumped up from the couch, bent down and picked it up before handing it to him, her polychrome eyes meeting his.
"Seriously. Only in LA," he muttered, a gleam of annoyance behind his cerulean orbs.
"You'd get stabbed in the ass?" she asked before sitting back down, curling her sock-clad feet underneath her and resting an arm on Monty.
"Yeah," he nodded, looking scandalized, "I mean really, who in their right mind says to themselves, hey, here's a cop, I think I'll take this knife and-
"Shove it up their hiney?" she offered, gesturing at him with her beer.
Deeks scoffed, not believing his ears.
"Did you seriously just say hiney?"
"What's wrong with hiney?"
"Uh last time I checked you weren't a child or a member of Sesame Street."
Kensi stuck her tongue out at him before shifting to stretch her long legs out on his couch, her toes brushing his thigh before settling comfortably on it. Deeks stared at her black-striped socks for a moment before murmuring:
"You know what? I take it back, you are a child. And there was no 'shoving' anything anywhere, thank you very much."
"I'm sure there's a dirty joke in there somewhere," she quick-fired, an eyebrow arched in his direction.
The detective sighed, his head falling onto the back of the couch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment.
"Yeah, well, unfortunately my mind is a little preoccupied at the moment..." he trailed off, the soft murmurings of the television almost lulling him to sleep.
"Something tells me if it was me with the ass wound you'd be firing off zingers by the dozen right now," his partner quipped matter-of-factly, as she opened a bag of chips, popping five in her mouth and munching on them loudly.
"You may have a point there Miss Piggy. Not gonna lie," he smirked, tilting his head and opening his eyes to slits, observing her quietly as she practically inhaled her food in rapid succession.
"Does this mean I have free rein to rip on you, Kermit?" she asked, swallowing deeply, her voice sounding a hell of a lot more innocent than her twinkling, mischievous eyes.
"Oh like you could," he scoffed, remembering with no difficulty the range of his partner's particular brand of humour.
"Hey, I'm witty I'll have you know," she folded her arms stubbornly, poking his leg gently with her toe as if to punctuate her point.
"Anyone who's really witty, doesn't say they're witty," he informed her, a warmth flowing through his chest at how domestic they were being today. He didn't know the reason for it, or for her sheer 'su casa es mi casa' attitude over the last few months especially but it was at times like these when he really appreciated it. Ass injury or not, these small moments were cherished. Not that he'd ever tell her that.
"I'm funny," she faux-snapped, snatching behind Monty's ears.
"Looking maybe," he smirked as she reached forward and smacked him on the shoulder.
"No you are," she grumbled, clearly irritated with herself that she couldn't think of anything else to say.
"That's your great come-back Miss Witty?"
"You're not doin' too great on the comebacks yourself partner."
"I got stabbed in the ass today, partner, how about you give a guy a break huh?"
The two shared a laugh at that, the brunette shaking her hand before draining the last of her beer and standing up. Deeks did his best to hide his disappointment at the loss of her warmth.
"I suppose...you want anything else? Food? Drink? Ass-cushion?" she grinned down at him before trudging into the kitchen.
Deeks gave another groan before calling after her:
"God help me Kens, all of the above would be fantastic. But Kermit? Seriously? He wasn't even in Sesame Street!"
"Neither was Ms. Piggy, Kermy!"
Her eyebrows rose while he stood staring down at her expectantly as she sat snugly on his couch a few hours later, his thumbs jabbed into the waistband of his sweatpants.
"You're gonna show me your ass?" she asked, trying not to gape openly at him.
"Only if you ask nicely," he teased, throwing her an exaggerated wink.
"Yeah, I'm good thanks," she dismissed, craning her neck to try and watch the TV that he was now effectively blocking.
"Oh come on Kens! I'm just a guy, standing in front of a girl, asking her to check on his ass wound...is that too much to ask?"
She heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes, flashes of cover houses and 'bro-sacks' and awkward bathroom moments in the back of her mind.
"You've wanted me to do this since the Russian sleeper-agent op haven't you?"
"Oh yeah 'cause nothing says romantic like showing someone the bloody scar on your butt," he responded sarcastically, turning on the spot and gently pulling down the waistband, his breath hitching at the pain.
Kensi watched silently, feeling weird, embarrassed and oddly arous—nope, no, that low heat in the pit of her stomach was just discomfort, that was all, nothing more, nothing less.
With a deep concentration that she didn't really need, the agent leaned forward and with the tips of her fingers, peeled back the bandage that rested just where his lower back met his cheek and inspected the jagged, angry wound underneath.
"It's not bad," she murmured, sticking the bandage back to his skin as gently as she could muster, flinching as her nails brushed against his back, lingering that little bit too long, basking in the warmth.
"Why thank you," he replied, his usual mirth engulfed by the sound of awkwardness and if she didn't know better, nervousness.
"I meant the gash," she clarified, sitting back into the couch and avoiding his eyes as he turned around.
"Sure you did," he smirked, it still not seeming genuine as he sat back down beside her, a little further away than before.
"It's gonna leave a scar though."
"Chicks dig scars," he waved dismissively, digging his hand into what was left of the chips Kensi snacked on earlier.
"Not on the ass they don't," she warned, turning her attention back to the TV.
"It's lower back..." he corrected before angling his body towards her, an inquisitive look passing his face, "you got any scars Fern?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
"A few," she replied cautiously, wondering where he was going with this.
"Where?"
And there is was. Classic Deeks.
"That's for me to know and for you to ponder for the rest of your life," she winked, relaxing a little more into the couch, her hands clasped together and resting lazily on her stomach.
"Just another of life's mysteries...I'll add it to whatever happened to the Mary Celeste and the real identity of Jack the Ripper," he deadpanned with a shake of his head.
She rolled her eyes and grabbed another slice of pizza from the box on the coffee table.
"What about you? You got any more?"
"A few."
"Any noticeable?"
"Well none shaped like a lightning-bolt and in the middle of my forehead if that's what you're asking."
She practically inhaled pepperoni as she laughed, coughing and spluttering loudly.
"Whoa Kens, easy, don't want a repeat performance like your wine incident," he chuckled, sitting forward and ignoring the twinge of pain to thump his partner on the back as she spat the chunk of pizza back onto the plate.
"That was attractive," he smirked as she glared at him, trying to quell the heat that rose in her cheeks as she made another food-related blunder in her partner's presence.
"You're the one that made me laugh!" she scolded, wiping at her eyes that had welled up during her coughing fit.
"Well someone had to spice up the evening, thanks for the entertainment," he replied, watching in amusement as her face turned from a shade of red to a more purple hue.
"I didn't realize we needed spicing up...you bored with me Deeks?" she asked, a hint of something behind her tone.
"What—"
"'Cause if you are, you know I can always pair up with Callen and you and Sam can—"
"Nope. No. Me, bored with you Kens? Never."
And he meant it too. More than anything in the world. Never, would he ever, be bored with Kensi Marie Blye in his life. Something he was eternally grateful for every single day. Again, not that he'd ever tell her.
"That's what I thought. Well," she said suddenly, glancing at her watch, "it's gettin' kinda late...I better head home."
And there was the familiar sinking of Deeks' heart in his chest. It was the exactly same every time she came over – the last being when she'd brought him home after he'd gotten a little drunk at O'Brian's (not that he remembered much of that particular night, despite it being mere days ago), and wasn't likely to change any time soon.
With an inaudible sigh, the detective stood up and hobbled awkwardly with his weird walk over to the door, holding it open for his partner as she pulled on her jacket.
"Call me if you need anything," she was saying as he watched her flick her hair out from under her collar, his light eyes captivated at the movement.
"Huh? Yeah, okay," he murmured distractedly.
"Swear."
"Shit."
"I meant promise!" she scolded, an amused grin on her face.
Deeks returned her grin tenfold.
"Yeah I promise, swear, whatever."
"On a Pope," she pressed as she stepped out into the hallway.
The detective screwed up his face in thought before coming up empty.
"I don't know any Popes."
Kensi folds her arms, her eyebrows raised.
"Alright fine, I promise on Pope John, Paul, George and Ringo. Happy?" he mirrored her stance, arms folded, eyebrows raised.
"That was another Beatles reference wasn't it?"
"Yes Miss-I-only-listen-to-crappy-techno. Here's one thing I will swear to, broadening your musical horizons."
The two friends stared at one another for a moment before a soft, mystifying smile broke out on Kensi's face.
"I look forward to that," she half-whispered, her face for once a mystery to him, a riddle wrapped in enigma.
For some unfathomable reason, those five words seemed to say so much more than they appeared.
"Me too," he replied, his words too feeling like a series of life-altering novels.
With one last grin, Kensi gave a small wave and headed to the elevator like she did every night after being in Deeks' apartment, her partner's eyes glued to her the entire way, both blissfully unaware of the heartache they were both soon to endure...
Meanwhile, at a Los Angeles Police Department in Interrogation Room B, a tall, dark-haired man with green eyes sat, staring intently at the shiny surface of a table separating him from two very frustrated and weary detectives.
"I'll tell you again, White, seeing as you're finding this so hard to understand," Detective Harris was spitting, his jaw clenched, "we don't cut deals with child beaters."
"But you gotta hear me out okay? I—I know all about where this guy buried her, I shared a cell with him for six months back in the 90s. I was just a kid back then but I can remember everything he bragged about to try and scare me, he was a nasty piece of work—"
"That's rich, coming from you," the other detective, Kinney, interjected.
White kept going however, almost as if he didn't realize that he'd spoken.
"And he went into detail so if you would just let me—"
"So what's the name of this so-called man that got away with beating a young woman to death huh?" Harris interrupted, fixing White with a glare.
Finally White looked up, his green eyes staring dead into the detective's before opening his mouth and replying:
"Gordon John Brandel..."
A/N: DUN, DUN, DUN!
Yeah, I know this was a weird one but...like a few of my scenes throughout the series, the dialogue/situations are actually inspired by some pieces of work I wrote myself a few years ago (using my own original characters) and some of them seem to suit Deeks and Kensi so well so I couldn't help but write a NCIS: LA story around them =]
Oh and sorry if it was a little dialogue-heavy, I just love the banter too much! :D
Next up is the IV part 'Deeks, M' storyline. I'm mentally psyching myself up for it now, it's gonna be HUGE! Because of said hugeness, I'm gonna need a little longer to plot everything out but I'll try to update as quickly and efficiently as I can. :D
Please Review =]
~Ck
NEXT CHAPTER TEASER:
"Deeks," the detective murmured as he answered his phone, rolling his eyes at his partner.
"Uh, Marty? It's Logan Banks—"
"Whoa Logan, long time no speak, how the hell are ya? Wait, how'd you get this number?" the detective asked, an overwhelming feeling of dread seeping into his veins, his senses going into overdrive as his partner visibly stilled, listening intently, trying to hear the other side of the conversation.
"I got it off your boss Marty...listen, I really need to talk to you about something..." he trailed off. The knot of tension in Deeks' stomach tightened.
"About what?" he asked attentively, his eyes darting to Kensi's worriedly.
"It's—a cold case has landed in my lap, man. And...an old name has come up of someone you know."
"Who?"
"Your father."