So, there we are: me and Kensi in this amazing car on one of those fabulous California days that seems like it's going to go on forever, with a clear sky that is the personification of cerulean blue and the sun pouring down so brightly that it almost seems unreal, like you're in a move or something. The road is stretching out ahead of us, straight and true and it's so tempting just to keep on driving and basically never go back. It's all about the journey and it's on days like these that you feel anything is possible, if you only want it badly enough. In a car like this you feel like anything is possible, there are no limitations, so why on earth shouldn't we just keep on driving and never stop until we decide to stop? Or, on a more practical level, until we need gas, or a comfort break. Or maybe when we get to Vegas… And no, I'm not thinking of one of those drive-through wedding chapels. Of course I'm not, because I wouldn't do that to Kensi. She'd probably disembowel me if I even suggested it.
Not that I'm thinking of marriage, because I've spent the last ten years making sure I never get anything like remotely near to even thinking about marriage. And because if (and I'm talking purely hypothetically here) if I was to propose to Kensi, and if she was to say yes, then I'd want to do it properly. What am I talking about? I think this car is seriously interfering with my ability to think rationally. Anyway, let's be honest, if we were going to get married, then I wouldn't have a choice in the matter, because Kensi would see to that – she'd have everything organized within an inch of its life. Women tend to go slightly crazy when it comes to weddings, and I've seen enough of my friends go down that route to know that the man's job is to stand well-back and just agree with everything the bride says and everything the bride wants, even if that means selling yourself into indentured servitude for the rest of your life. And before you say that we've only been together for a couple of weeks, and that I'm moving much too fast, much too soon, can I just remind you that we've been together as partners for over eighteen months. The way I look at it, we've had the longest unconsummated relationship in history.
So while it would be very easy just to keep on driving right up to infinity, that's not going to happen. Besides which, I bet Hetty is tracking us – and not just by GPS. I bet she's got Eric following us by traffic cameras and she might even have got him to hack into a satellite. I have learnt (the hard way) not to underestimate Hetty.
"We'd better think about getting back." If I don't turn back now, I'm never going to.
"I guess." Kensi doesn't sound any more enamored with the idea than I do.
"Maybe we could go somewhere at the weekend? Get out of LA. We go away somewhere for the weekend. Just the two of us. Together." It seems very important to add in that last word, just so there's no misunderstanding.
12. Make time.
Your relationship should be one of the most (if not the most) important things in your life. Don't let the daily drudge get in the way of spending time with your loved one. Find the time to watch a movie or go for a walk or eat dinner together. Cancel other plans or meetings if necessary, but remember - how can you be "together" if you spend no time together?
"Together?" Kensi stares straight ahead, watching as the road unfolds in front of us. I sneak a glance and her face is totally unreadable. "As in 'you and me' together? Like a couple?"
"That was sort of the idea." I've judged this completely wrong, haven't I? It's too much, too soon, isn't it? I'm pushing her and she's going to feel threatened and back away. And up until now I've been doing such a great job about thinking before I speak. It's this car, that's the problem. This car has given me delusions of grandeur, like I'm omnipotent or something. Mind you, I'd rather be omnipotent than impotent. Just saying, that's all. Not that I've ever had any problems in that department.
"Oh good. I thought that's what you meant." Kensi stretches luxuriously in the seat and I notice, not for the first time, how insanely long her legs are. Nobody wears a pair of jeans quite like Kensi. "That sounds pretty good. Let's do it."
Yippee! There should be fireworks going off, and bands playing. As it is, I just have to concentrate very hard so that I don't crash the car or crunch the gears or do something gauche and immature. I am an adult. NCIS trusts me to carry a gun. Who am I kidding? I feel like I'm seventeen again and it feels great. I feel like I could sprint up Mount Everest and do a hundred press-ups at the summit. While juggling three oranges.
"Let's do it." Birds do it, bees do, even educated fleas do. Let's do it… and no, I am not going to finish that. You know the next line, and so do I. So let's just leave it at that, okay? Although come the weekend, I'm hoping Kensi and I might just start to move towards taking that next step by talking about how we feel and where things are going. For once, I want to talk about how I feel and what I want from this relationship. I want it all. I want Kensi. I just want to be with her, because being with Kensi is what makes me happy. I've got it bad, haven't I? And the funny thing is, I've never felt happier.
Okay. So far, so good. Now, all I have to do is play this cool. The last thing I want to do is let Kensi see how insanely excited the idea of going away somewhere together is making me. The only problem now is: where do we go? Where the hell do we go? Now normally my first choice would be to go down to Big Sur, but that's because of the surfing you get there. And funnily enough, I'm not planning on surfing this weekend. So what I need is somewhere that's far enough from LA so that there's no danger of anyone spotting us, and with scope for romantic walks, candlelit dinners for two… and of course somewhere that is available at short notice. And then I have a brainwave.
"I've got a buddy with a place in Carmel. I'm pretty sure he'd lend it to us. If that's okay with you?" Matt owes me after all.
"Carmel sounds wonderful."
It's at this point that I'm beginning to wonder if I've slipped into an alternative reality. It's not just that Kensi isn't arguing with me, she's not even putting up a token resistance. Everything is going far too well. Maybe I hit my head really hard when I was shot and this is all some sort of hallucination?
Breathe, Deeks – just breathe. You can do this. It's not really that much of a big deal, after all. Its just a weekend away together. Like we're a real couple, or something, instead of partners who just happen to have great sex. Repeatedly, and in a number of inventive ways. I mean, we've practically been living together for the last couple of weeks. We've certainly been sleeping together. Not that there's actually much sleep involved, I have to admit. Kensi wants to play this cool – so just play along with her. And do not think about playing with her, because you're liable to crash the car and Hetty will be so mad if anything happens to it.
"That's great. I'll make a couple of calls and see what I can arrange." If I have to, I'll make it worth his while. I'll bribe him, if that's what it takes.
"Not at work. Someone might overhear."
Did you hear that loud thud back there? That was the sound of me, crashing back to reality with a vengeance. Kensi is still determined to keep our 'thing' a secret, hidden away like something dirty. It's like she's ashamed or something and it's really starting to bug me. What would be so wrong with just saying casually on Friday afternoon, "Hey, I'm going to finish up early, because Kensi and I are going to Carmel for the weekend"? Exactly who would it hurt?
"Don't worry. I'll be careful."
Kensi shoots me a glance. "You'd better be."
Fair enough. I know my place. And right now, that's under her thumb, apparently. Fair enough.
So I spend the rest of the week alternatively ploughing through piles of paperwork that Hetty has kindly rootled out from some deep, dark recesses known only to her, and dreaming about the weekend. Matt's house is one of the classic Carmel 'fairytale' cottages and I'm hoping it's going to work its magic on us. If I remember correctly, it's just a short walk from beach and I'm picturing moonlit walks along the sands and then sitting in the hot-tub drinking champagne underneath the stars. Did you know that the champagne saucer glass is supposed to have been based on Diane de Poiter's breasts? That just leads me into another daydream, where this time I'm drinking from a glass the exact size and shape of Kensi's breasts, and then I'm pouring champagne over her breasts and… and I think I need to go outside for some fresh air. It's kind of hard to breath right now.
"Mr Deeks? Is everything alright?"
"I just need to go outside for a minute, Hetty."
She is at my side in an instant. Faster than a speeding bullet, and all that. "You do look a trifle peaky." Hetty tucks her hand under my elbow, and leads me solicitously into the courtyard. "Sit down and don't move."
"I'm fine," I protest, sitting down like I've been told. Only someone with a death wish disobeys Hetty, after all. The next thing I know, her hand is on the back of my head and she's pressing down with an incredible amount of force for someone so small. "Yeoch! That hurt."
"I am so sorry." I've never heard Hetty sound so flustered before. "I completely forgot about your head injury. How could I do something like that? I mean, you were unconscious for two days."
What? They've never said anything about that. How could they forget to mention something like that? Two days? Two whole days and two whole nights? That was pretty major, even by my standards.
"I think we need to talk, Hetty."
"Oh bugger."
Oh bugger indeed. It seems like there's quite a bit they've not been telling me.