"Does Shane know about this kiss?" Sam gave a quick look, but the Almighty Creator was nowhere to be seen. "Because if it's not in his plan, then there's going to be trouble. Big trouble."

They still weren't sure what was going to happen in season three, and the way things were going, any unauthorised liaison could have fatal consequences, especially if it got back to the wrong person. Shane had given them life and he could just as easily take it away again. He was The Creator, after all, and in the world of NCIS: Los Angeles, Shane was God. It wasn't always easy working for someone who was omnipotent and who was a good deal of a control freak into the bargain.

"It wasn't just a kiss. And it was more than once," Kensi mumbled, suddenly very interested in her shoes. At least she was wearing a normal pair for once, because it was a real pain having to run in ultra-high heels. Literally. She was convinced she had a bunion developing. Luckily, Deeks had a real thing for giving her a foot massage.

"Don't talk about the kiss. Or the sex," Callen advised. "I know you did once, but you might just get away with it."

He'd made a nasty error during the pilot, which had ticked Shane off big time. And had then resulted in getting Callen caught in a positive barrage of bullets that resembled a WWI dogfight, from which no human could possibly have managed to emerge alive. It was a highly dramatic ending, but one which left Callen's eventual return in serious doubt. Only after a sustained period of crawling to Shane had Callen reappeared unscathed and miraculously healed to star in season 1. He still had callouses on his knees to this day, because when Shane said 'crawl', he meant it quite literally. But everything had turned out splendidly and the fact that Callen should technically be missing one lung, both kidneys, his liver, at least two feet of intestines and his spleen was never referred to again, for such were the powers of The Creator. But it had been a salutary lesson not to overstep the bounds.

"We did it more than once, didn't we Kensi?"

"Shut up, Deeks."

"Nobody will ever find out that you made out – will they Sam?" He glared at his partner, who gave him a despairing look.

"Of course not. Why would you ever think such a thing?" They were supposed to be working in intelligence and he came out with lame plans like this? "There's only you and me who know. Oh -and several million viewers around the world who watch every nuance between those two. That's a fantastic way of keeping a secret. Why not just post it on Wikileaks and be done with it?"

"Don't forget all the fanfic writers. They're sure to find out and then write endless stories about it. And one in particular. You know what's she's like." Deeks buried his head in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair. He'd read the script for this episode and knew they were all going off on some mission to Prague that had decidedly dire overtones and undercurrents. And Shane had dropped heavy hints about someone getting shot. Things were so not looking good. If word got back to Shane, then Deeks reckoned his chances of getting back for next season were getting smaller by the second. However, on the bright side, viewers will be delighted to know that even after considerable ruffling and tousling, his hair still looked as amazing as ever. No surprise there then.

"We could ask the fans to pretend they wanted G and Kensi to be a couple?" Sam suggested. "That might throw Shane off the scent."

Kensi felt like smacking him. "Only no-one would buy that. No-one in their right minds, that is. The chemistry's all wrong. "

"It's that whole 'creepy uncle' thing again, isn't it?" Deeks mused. "Not quite right for prime time tv, is it? Whereas you and me – that's practically by public demand."

"Yup, the fans really, really want us to be together." Shane had already vetoed the idea of their appearing together at ComicCon, because of this very factor and the voluble demands from the fanbase. Nobody would want to talk about anything else, after all. Nobody who was in full possession of their faculties, that is.

"I still don't see why," Callen said mutinously.

"Either way – I'm dead meat." Kensi really didn't think this was fair that she should be thrown to the wolves like this. Herself and Callen? As if. Why not just put Hetty and Director Vance together and be done with it?

"You're fine. You're the eye-candy. You know that, I know that and Shane knows that. So don't worry. Every show need eye candy, after all." Sam still had very pleasant memories of that scene where he and Kensi had fought hand to hand. The scene where she wore little more than a sports bra and a pair of leggings. No wonder she'd won. How could any man possibly concentrate with all that in front of him? And why were there no stories about him and Kensi having a torrid affair? Mind you, he'd heard there were ones where he was paired with Callen, so maybe he was just better off not knowing?

"Oh come on. I'm so much more than eye candy. I'm smart, and I'm funny and I'm super intelligent. Plus, I do a great line in put-downs. And take downs. Men want me and women want to be me." Actually, Kensi realised that pretty much made her eye candy, with an intellectual edge and a kick-ass attitude. Maybe she was the thinking man's eye candy?

"Deeks wants you too. Look at him – he's practically panting. You could do a lot worse than being eye candy."

"Talking of eyes…" Callen nodded towards Kensi. "Aren't we missing the obvious?"

"I was wondering how long it would take you to point that out. But as it's taken five chapters and twelve pages written in eleven point font on A4 paper, that's actually pretty good going. I'm impressed." Kensi didn't look impressed. She looked pissed off, if truth be told. But then again, she had been wearing her exceptionally tight jeans for a prolonged period of time and some side effects were only to be expected. And mild grumpiness was much better than having to drink gallons of cranberry juice.

"Thanks for the reminder." Deeks typed a rapid notation into his spreadsheet.

Despite herself Kensi couldn't help going over to check the PC. "Sometimes, you surprise me, Deeks. Here I am, thinking you're just a pretty face with a line in crass remarks, and then you go and do something like that." She rumpled his hair affectionately, only making it look even better (although that scarcely seems possible).

"I've got hidden shallows. And acute observation." Deeks looked at the screen with considerable satisfaction. Under Sam's name, a new comment had appeared: 'bad habit of winking salaciously'. "And I've saved your butt on a few occasions. Your very cute butt."

Callen stifled a chortle when he read that. "You've managed to redeem yourself, Deeks."

"I think you'll find he's done that several times already, Mr Callen." Hetty made one of her miraculous appearances from out of the blue. It was almost as if she had spent years working with David Copperfield and could appear and disappear at will. Then again, it might just have been some clever artistry carried out in the editing suite.

"There was that time you were all on the beach and he was just wearing those board shorts." A singular smile crept across her face. "Why do you think I recruited him in the first place? I'm as partial to a pretty face and a virile body as the next woman." Hetty hadn't actually been required in that scene, but she'd made a point of being down at the beach all day, armed with the brand of sunscreen Deeks preferred, along with her flick-knife that she pretended was a letter opener. It had proven most effective in keeping several would-be admirers out of the way so that she had an unobstructed view of the detective and his attractive beachwear.

"Don't forget the time he stripped down to his boxers after the prison break." It had only been by exercising the greatest possible restraint that Kensi had not flung herself bodily into his arms – at least while the cameras were still running. Once the scene was over, he was fair game. Neither Deeks or the boxer shorts had quite been the same after her full-frontal assault.

Nell joined the throng. "Or how about the time Deeks just wore those blue scrub pants and some bandages outside the hospital?" She, Hetty and Kensi all sighed in unison.

"Man whore."

"I only do what the script says. And Shane approves the scripts. What's so wrong with some wholly gratuitous titillation? Remember, it's in my character profile that I'm tanned and muscley." Deeks quickly added these factors into his details in the spreadsheet."Anyway, I don't remember you and Sam objecting to those CHiPs uniforms. The ones with the Lycra pants. And don't think we didn't all notice the shuttlecock you smuggled in there."

"And how unsubtle a metaphor were those bikes?" Kensi looked at them incredulously. "Oh, come on guys- -give me a break. You do know what a metaphor is, don't you?"

"We all left high school a long time ago. I think." Sam had a vague memory of English lessons, but then his backstory was that he'd been a SEAL and in that line of work book learning was considerably less important that the ability to clench a knife between your teeth, fill out a t-shirt and look fierce, all at the same time.

Deeks was almost certain he was the only team member to have gone to college. "I was a lawyer. We just need to know how to lie with aplomb and spout the odd bit of Latin in an attempt to look smart. Oh – and we need to know how to charge huge fees and wear cool suits."

"That'll be why you're not practising law then. You failed the taste test – the good taste test."

"I've got good taste. I've got the hots for Kensi after all."

They turned in unison to look at Callen, who had remained suspiciously quiet throughout this exchange. "Don't look at me," he protested. "My background hasn't yet been revealed." It was a fair bet that he'd spent some time in Romania though. Why else go to all this careful scene setting? Then again, Shane might just decide Callen was the ward of some millionaire and had spent his formative years in a mansion. You just never knew. There was even a very remote chance he might get to make out with Kensi, although Callen was none too sanguine about that. "For all we know, I could be the love child of JD Salinger and Joan Baez."

There was a long silence as everyone contemplated this somewhat unlikely possibility. NCIS was not exactly noted for its forays into twentieth century literature and folk singers with a social conscience, after all.

"Naw. Can you imagine the amount of red tape Shane would have to go through to get that approved? And the money to get them to sign releases. And copyright issues. We might be limited to one explosion every two shows and he won't like that."

"I don't know." Hetty felt it prudent to add in a word of caution. "This is Shane we're talking about. Anything is possible. Remember, he created this whole world and all of us here."

She was only too aware of a nasty rumour going around that she was about to be shot and felt it best to be suitably obsequious where the Creator was concerned. Which was a rather more erudite way of crawling, that had the added benefit of being considerably less painful and demeaning than actually scrabbling about on all fours into the bargain. Being shot was all very well, in fact in this line of work it had to be regarded as an occupational hazard and it did afford some splendid opportunities for really top-notch acting. Then again, bullets were sometimes being fatal. Like that young chap from the first season. The one who'd come back briefly after a long period of absence, during which nobody, least of all the viewers, had missed him. There he was, making a great re-entry, only to be shot dead. And after that, he was conveniently forgotten about. Mind you, his card had been marked when Shane had decreed he wasn't attracting the right viewer demographic – or any significant demographic at all.

Deeks was back to looking at Kensi. He did this quite a lot, as attentive viewers can testify. "Anyway, I like your eyes. They're unique." It was about time they all got back to the subject in hand, he thought. With any luck, this particular segment would come after a commercial break and the editing boys and girls could put in one of those handy visual aide memoires that jogged the viewers' recollections by way of a series of black and white photos accompanied by the sound of a camera motor drive.

"She's got one's brown eye and one black eye. You can't get more distinctive than that. You put that in your little file, why don't you?"

"It's a birthmark, right? A little touch of God." After delivering this exceptionally corny line, Deeks shot a despairing look at the scriptwriter, who merely shrugged.

"It's real bugger to light her though." A disembodied voice floated down from the lighting rig. "Especially when we use that blue light in Ops. She needs a whole special set of lights just to compensate."

"Aw, come on. She's worth it." Deeks looked at Sam and Callen. "Come on – that was your cue. Just because this is the last episode of the season, there' no need to get sloppy now."

"You never know when Shane might just decide to come down from on high," Kensi reminded them. "And grace us with his presence. So watch what you're saying." Of course, it was rumoured that Shane was all-seeing, in addition to being all-powerful and just knew things by osmosis.