But, like I said, it would have been good if the door had a lock on it. That might just have stopped Sam and Callen from walking in on us. Then again, knowing what they are like, it probably wouldn't. Sam probably would have just put his shoulder to it and then strolled on in. Still, it would have been nice if they'd knocked or something.
"Put the man down, Kensi." You know just know that it was Callen who said that, don't you? I really think we need to find the man a girlfriend. He's far too interested with what's going on between Kensi and me. I can't remember the last time Callen went out on a date. No, let me rephrase that: I can't ever remember Callen going out with anybody, period. OF course, there was that smooch he had with his ex-wife, Tracey, a year or so ago, but I don't think that counts. Especially as she was planning on duping him and then running off with $5 million. It's obvious that Callen needs to find himself some action. I mean, we all go through fallow periods (well, not me, of course) but Callen's going to find himself trapped in an endless desert if he's not careful.
"I'm just making sure he feels okay," Kensi protests, sitting up and smoothing down her hair.
"And how does Deeks feel?" Callen enquires, with rather too much interest for comfort.
I'm now beginning to understand why Kensi wasn't so keen on us telling everybody. I'm beginning to feel like a lab rat or something.
"Oh, he feels great, Callen. Absolutely wonderful, in fact."
Kensi gives our tormentor a happy smile and then turns to give me a fake glare. At least, I hope it's fake. I'm almost certain it is, but then again I've learned never to jump to any conclusions, at least not where Kensi is concerned. I manage a slightly weak smile in response, but it's kind of hard to have any semblance of credibility far less any dignity when everybody else in the room is fully clothed and you're just wearing a pair of pajama bottoms, after all.
It turns out that I was right to be worried, because Kensi deepens the glare, so that it turns into a frown, and I can see that vein in her forehead pop out. That's never a good sign. Her next words confirm my suspicions
"If you ever do anything like that again, I am going to sit on you to make sure you stay I bed, okay?"
Callen tries to look innocent, but he's not really got the face for it. "Why not lie your whole length on top of Deeks, just to make sure he doesn't put up any resistance? No – wait a minute, I forgot. That's exactly what you were doing when we came in, wasn't it?"
I've got this vague hope that Sam might come to our defence, given that he's been largely silent so far, contenting himself with leaning back against the door, arms crossed and an expression of amusement on his face. Sam's a great guy, who hides his soft heart behind an extremely effective veneer of reinforced concrete. You might think he's as tough as nails, but you'd be wrong. Sam's bound to feel sorry for me, and tell his partner to lay off the sick guy. That's the sort of thing Sam does. And then I look more closely at his face and my heart sinks.
"I told you it wasn't safe to leave Kensi alone with Deeks when he was unconscious the first time he was here in hospital, G – remember? Like I said then: she could have done anything to him as he lay there, all defenceless and completely naked. She could have done anything. Anything at all." He raises one eyebrow in what can only be described as a salacious manner. "Don't forget the man was naked, G. And unconscious."
Does he really have to keep rubbing it in like that? Stupid question, because clearly he does. I hate Sam Hanna, I really do.
"I'd forgotten he was naked," Callen says slowly, but with a beam of evil delight.
And I'd forgotten just what a good double act this pair really are. More fool me. Oh well, if in doubt, launch a counter-attack and take the war into the enemy's camp. I've always been good at futile gestures, so why change the habits of a lifetime?
"How do you know I was naked? You peeked, didn't you?" I manage to leave the mute accusation of 'perverts' hanging in the air.
"Would you rather I'd let Hetty give you a bed bath?" Sam asks, apparently seriously
He is joking, isn't he? I feel strangely violated. I would rather shave my head and my entire body than be subjected to that particular indignity. In deperation, I give Kensi a pleading look. She's my one hope amidst all this madness
"Leave him alone," Kensi says protectively. "You can tell him all about how the pair of you lusted after his naked body tomorrow."
Why is everybody so obsessed with the fact I was naked back then? And exactly why was I naked?
"But it's getting late now," Kensi continues and then she looks at her watch, gives an exclamation of horror and leaps off the bed. "It's after midnight. Deeks – get under the covers and go to sleep."
Callen makes a small tutting noise under his breath that makes him sound incredibly like Hetty, which is oddly terrifying. "Yet again, Kensi's telling Deeks to get into bed. I think she needs help."
"I think we need to get out of here and let the man have some rest." Sam gives his partner a hearty shove. "You can come back tomorrow and wind him up all over again."
"Please tell me they didn't give me a bed bath?" I plead, once the door has shut behind them. I'm pretty sure they are both standing outside with their ears waggling, but I'm never going to be able to go to sleep unless I know the truth.
"Of course they didn't."
There's something about the look on Kensi's face that makes me suspicious. "And neither did you or Hetty, right?" If anything, that's even worse.
"Of course we didn't. Do you really think I'd want Hetty anywhere around if I was doing that? No, if you really want the truth, there was practically a line of nurses stretching right along the corridor, with sponges in hand and eager expressions on their faces, all just waiting to volunteer for that particular privilege."
"You're having me on, aren't you?" I mean, I know I'm not bad looking, and I am fairly fit. Plus there's the fact I've got seriously great hair, but it's not like I'm Brad Pitt or anything. Mind you, now I come to think about it, Kensi ad I just might have that whole Brad and Angelina vibe going on. It's probably her hair, I think. There are worse people to be compared to, after all.
"I might have exaggerated slightly," she admits.
"Or were projecting your own fantasies?" I suggest.
"There might just have been the slightest element of wish fulfillment, but basically I'd rather have you wide awake and paying attention, if it's all the same. Although at least when you were unconscious you didn't talk all the time." She's teasing – I think.
"Yeah, but you missed that, didn't you? My sparkling repartee and general joie de vivre?"
The light dies out of her eyes for just a second and when she speaks again, Kensi is definitely not kidding around any more. "Oh God, yes. Yes, I did. I missed it so much. Sitting there, holding your hand and talking to you, but not getting any response was… horrific. Beyond anything I'd ever dreamt of in my worst nightmares. Even hearing you talk your usual nonsense is better than nothing." Her smile is wry and she takes hold of my hand and squeezes it very tightly.
"But not as good as me whispering sweet nothings though?" I suggest, and squeeze back, very tightly.
"You know it. But it is late. And you do look tired."
I feel tired too, and there's no point in trying to deny, because Kensi would see straight through me in an instant. I can't hide anything from her. "So do you, come to that. You need to go home and get some sleep."
"I think I will." Kensi must be shattered, because normally she likes to give the impression that she's superwoman. "I'm so tired, I might even let Monty sleep with me."
See, Monty might not look like much of a dog, but he grows on you, on account of his sweet personality. Even Kensi's fallen for him, just like I knew she would. "He snores, you know."
"And he farts as well, but he's better than nothing." She throws me a very significant look. "Do you mind if I stay over at your place?"
"Sure."
"It's just that… if I sleep I your bed, I can lie there and I can smell you on the sheets, so it's almost like you're with me." She gives a shrug, as if to tell me she knows this is idiotic, only it's not. It's possibly the nicest thing anybody has ever said to me.
"I'll be out of here tomorrow."
"I'll hold you to that." Kensi turns the lights down and then kisses me goodnight before she leaves, and I lie there, holding onto the thought of her, just the thought of her.
"Deeks!"
There is something poking into my ribs and it takes me a couple of minutes to work out that it's Kensi's elbow, jamming in repeatedly.
"What?"
"Can't you hear it?"
Well, no – because I'm not really awake. And given the choice, I'd really rather go back to sleep. Unless Kensi can think of something to do that doesn't involve inflicting pain and suffering.
"Hear what?" I've no sooner said this than an ominous howl splits the air. Great. Way to go, Monty. Nice timing.
"That. Monty. Your dog Monty." It's funny how at three in the morning Kensi manages to lose all affection for Monty.
Now, colour me wrong, but I'm get the definite impression Kensi is trying to hint at something here. Maybe there was a clue in her use of the second person pronoun? It's not going to work.
"Kensi, I told you it wasn't a good idea to give him the remains of that spinach and lentil loaf Nell made us."
"Well, we weren't going to eat it, were we? It was disgusting."
I'm lying curled up and Kensi wriggles over a little closer, so that she echoes my position, and her butt nudges into my stomach. Automatically my arms reach out to pull her closer and she gives that little sigh of pleasure I've grow accustomed to. Now, it's true enough, that spinach surprise was possibly the most disgusting thing I've ever eaten. It only took one mouthful to confirm that it was basically inedible. If anything, Nell is even less-skilled in the culinary arts than Kensi, which is really saying something.
"You didn't have to inflict it on Monty though," I remind her, still sewing the seeds that this is her fault, and therefore her responsibility.
"He liked it." There's female logic for you.
"And now he's paying for it." You can see where I'm going with this, can't you? My dog, but her fault is basically the line I'm advancing here. Only Kensi is being deliberately obtuse. Which is actually quite impressive, given it's three a.m.
"What else was I supposed to do with it?" she asks.
"Throw it out with the garbage?" Like normal people do?
Kensi gives me a look. "Nell made it for us. She went to a lot of time and trouble. I couldn't just throw it away."
I could have. I nearly threw it up, if you want the truth. It was disgusting, and that was on a good day. "Next time, just throw it away. Listen to him." As if on cue, Monty lets out a low, rumbling belch. At least, I hope it's a belch and not something worse. Whatever it is, you can practically feel the floor vibrate and that's never a good sign.
"He needs to go out."
"I know." So get up and take him out, why don't you?
She kicks me again. "And he's your dog."
I knew it. What did I tell you? I just knew it would come to this.
"I'm not well. I'm still recovering from a nasty accident," I say, with a long-suffering air.
Come on – give me a break here. I never said I had any scruples, did I? Life deals you a hand of cards and it is up to you how you play them, after all. And right now, I'm taking any advantage I can get. Actually, if you want the truth, I've never felt better in my life. It's been two weeks since I got out of hospital and I feel great. Kensi feels even better, of course. Just to make sure, I give her a squeeze and nuzzle her neck. Yup, she feels delectable and she tastes even better. No change there then.