NCIS: Los Angeles, Catching Fire

"Love is like a friendship caught on fire; in the beginning a flame, very pretty, often hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. As love grows older, our hearts mature and our love become as coals, deep-burning and unquenchable." – Bruce Lee.

It's been a ridiculously long day and by the time he pulls into the parking area of his apartment building off the PCH, all Deeks wants is a beer, a hot shower, and his bed, not necessarily in that order. Instead, he grabs his go-bag, locks up his car, and heads toward apartment 2C and his very hippie neighbor, Miss Karla Khool. Kay-Kay, as she prefers, is barely five foot three and at least a hundred and fifty pounds with green-gray hair that's as obviously fake as her last name. But this is L.A. and she's hardly the weirdest person Deeks has ever lived across the way from.

Any day that started with two dead military contractors buried in a heap of garbage guaranteed to be a long one and he doesn't even want to think about what could have happened had they not realized in time just how dangerous Robert Brown really was. Callen has a soft spot for Nell, admittedly he does too, and her getting hurt would have made for one very bad day. Still, they'd caught the baddies; Brown was going to spend the foreseeable future locked up somewhere he couldn't hurt any more women, and everyone had gone home more or less unscathed.

He'd called the dog loving, love bead making Miss Kay-Kay to pick up Monty that afternoon at the first sign of the case blossoming into headache inducing proportions and she'd assured him that Monty would be living the life of a pampered pouch till he got off work. Now, Deeks can hear the yipping of her two terrier terrors from ten feet away and when he dings the bell a tinny version of the Beetles Hey Jude joins into the racket. She opens the door by the time the chorus cycles around for the third time and five minutes later he's retreating quickly enough to be considered rude with Monty in tow and a beaded necklace that would make him the laughing stock of OSP for weeks to come.

He crosses the shared courtyard to his own apartment and has his key in the lock before he realizes something isn't right. Monty is pressed against his leg snarling and the window blinds in his kitchen are closed tightly, definitely not the same position he left them in. Deeks drops his bag onto the sidewalk, unclips his dog's leash, and pulls his gun. He pushes the door in quietly and lets Monty run in before him as the soft rock tunes of a station that definitely isn't his easy listening 103.7 washes through the door.

There's a still cold bottle of bud sitting on his end table and inexplicably that pisses him off. Who breaks into a man's home just to help themselves to his fridge and mess with his radio?

Deeks takes a moment to clear the rest of his living room and then zeroes in on where the sound of Monty's excited yipping comes from. His gun comes up from his side as he turns the corner into the kitchen and then his brain stutters to a halt as he takes in the scene in front of him. The absolute last person he expected is sitting in his kitchen, petting his dog.

Callen looks up blue eyes crinkling in amusement as he takes in Deeks' flabbergast expression and still raised Beretta. "You might want to watch where you point that thing."

"Right," Deeks says lowering his gun to his side. "What are you doing?"

Callen raises a single eyebrow at him and Deeks cringes when he realizes how harsh that must have sounded. But really he's still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Callen's sitting in his kitchen, petting his dog. "We need to talk," the lead agent finally offers, giving Monty's belly one more rub before he straightens.

Those have to be the most terrifying words Deeks has ever heard uttered and he has a moment of panic where he thinks Callen's found out just how far beyond partners Kenzie and he have taken their relationship, because it definitely is an r-word now. He holsters his gun, takes a moment to ponder if any of his neighbors will bother to call an ambulance if Callen goes all big, overprotective brother on his ass and this ends with him on the floor bleeding, and finally leaves the room for a moment to hide the evidence of Miss Kay-Kay's love beads before Callen can see and laugh himself silly.

When Deeks returns, Callen hasn't moved. He's sitting still as a statue, ice blue eyes boring a hole into the taupe and grey backsplash of Deeks' kitchen. He crosses over to the fridge and cracks himself a Pepsi before turning back to the lead agent, "What are we talking about?"

Callen doesn't respond, just flicks his eyes over Deeks then back to the wall, and Marty has a moment to wonder if the word straightforward is even in his boss' super spy dictionary. Suddenly Callen's meeting his gaze head on, icy blue against his own sky blue, "Kensi."

Deeks straightens in shock. He hasn't heard from her since their stolen phone call at Christmas, not a Hi, I miss you or a Hey, I'm not dead in over a month's time. "Is she okay?"

"So far," Callen nods. He reaches out to pet Monty's head, letting his fingers tangle in the dog's unruly brown locks before he continues, "Maybe not for much longer."

Deeks is moving forward a step instantly, eyes narrowing in suspicion, "What do you know?"

"Less than you think I do," Callen responds before pausing. He needs to choose his next words carefully, even if he already knows the answer. Deeks sinks into the chair opposite, trying to supress a completely inappropriate eye roll. Someone definitely left the word straightforward out of Callen's dictionary. "If you knew your partner was in danger what would you do?"

Deeks is just about ready to leap out of his chair and demand the whole story, not just the filtered, watered down version Callen's giving him, but Granger is being remarkably tight-lipped about Kensi's classified mission to somewhere he isn't allowed to know the name of to do things no one can tell him about. Instead, he tries to play it cool, "Are you saying she's in danger?"

He winces mentally at the terse note in his voice, so much for playing it cool, but his heart is in his throat and he can't be bothered by how easy he's making it for Callen to read him. The ex CIA operative stands abruptly, staring him down, "What would you do?"

Deeks stands as well, matching him, blue eyes sparking and intense, "Anything."

Callen nods, pulls his leather jacket on and turns to go, "Good. She's going to need you."

"Wait," Deeks says, his hand snapping out to catch Callen's elbow. He's ridiculously close to taking a head long leap over every line drawn between them, but he has to know, "Are you saying she's in danger?"

Callen looks him straight in the eye and gives him the most honest answer he has yet, "Yes."

He's gone by the time Deeks pulls his composure back together enough to get past that one simple word. He contemplates tracking Callen down and demanding the rest of the story, but he has a feeling that he's used up all the openness his boss has to offer for one evening. He has to trust that Kensi really is his favorite agent and that Callen won't let something happen to a member of his team if he can prevent it.

Instead he sets out Monty's food, feeds the dog more treats than were probably recommended, and checks the Chinese food in his fridge for edibility. It doesn't smell funny and it isn't covered in any suspicious fuzzy green spots, so he dishes out a plate of Lo Mein and chicken dumplings despite the fact that his appetite has followed the lead agent out the door and tries to forget what he said, "She's going to need you."