Why did nobody ever bother to tell me that house-hunting is the seventh circle of hell? You would think that it should be relatively easy, given that we are looking to find one place to rent, and combining our salaries, so we should have more money and be able to get a better place. That's great in theory. The problem is that what looks good on paper isn't quite so great when you actually view it in the cold hard light of reality. So far we've looked at places where the last tenant appeared to be a crack dealer, apartments that are actually more like extended closets and ones where the so-called garden is actually a concrete patio measuring a massive ten foot by four foot.
"Why is this so hard? We just want a place with a decent sized living room, party-walls that aren't built out of cardboard and somewhere that will take Monty." Our wish-list has been cut right down to the bare essentials. And even these are proving elusive.
"You wouldn't believe how many places say you can have pets, but what they mean is a goldfish."
"Which is why a fish is the ideal pet," Sam informs me.
Callen takes up the cudgels. "And then, when it dies…"
"We already know." Kensi cuts off their well-honed routine so that it lies there, dead in the water. "You've got sushi. Very funny. But we don't have a fish, do we? We've got a dog."
It's 'our' dog now, did you notice that? We are officially a couple. We've been a couple for over a month now, and people have stopped commenting on it. Now, if only we could find somewhere to live together as a couple, everything would be great.
"And we're not eating Monty, so don't even suggest it."
"You could put a bob-tail on him, and a pair of floppy ears and tell them he's a really big rabbit."
We all turn and just look at Eric, with our jaws dropping. There really isn't anything you can say in reply to that, after all. He senses our collective disbelief and total lack of understanding. "It was a joke," he adds hastily.
Really? You could have fooled me.
"Some places take rabbits, that's all I'm saying." He's not helping himself.
"You've got a pet bunny, haven't you?" This big smile is creeping across Sam's face, as he senses a new victim to toy with. Just wait until I start dropping hints to his daughter about how much fun it would be if she had a real live pony to play with, not just a plastic one. That'll wipe the smile of his face and no mistake.
"She's housetrained," Eric says defensively.
Callen seizes on the opportunity. "She? And what would she be called? Thumper?"
"Thumper was a boy," Kensi informs him.
"Are you sure? He sounded like a girl."
"He was a boy," I confirm. "Just not anatomically correct. But that's Disney for you. Lassie was a boy too."
"Lassie was a girl," Kensi says. "Definitely. They called her 'girl' all the time. And 'Lassie' is a girl's name."
"I know that. But the dog that played Lassie was a boy. Really." It's amazing the amount of totally irrelevant information I have at my fingertips. Or even on the tip of my tongue.
Sam decides it's time to get the subject back on track. "So if it's not called Thumper, what is your bunny rabbit called? Flopsy? Mopsy? Cottontail?"
I'd never have pegged Sam for a Beatrix Potter fan, but you learn something every day, don't you?
"Debbie," Eric mutters. "My rabbit is called Debbie."
"Debbie?" Callen shakes his head. "Who calls a rabbit 'Debbie'?"
"Eric," Nell offers, which pretty much kills that conversation stone-dead. Still, we'd probably baited him for long enough. It wouldn't have been long before the bunny-girl jokes started coming out. I know that, because I had a couple just lined up and waiting to be told. "You still haven't found a place to rent then?"
"No," Kensi says shortly, and through gritted teeth.
"We've must have looked at just about everything in our price range and within reasonable travelling distance."
Nell gives her pensive look. "I might be able to put you onto something," she says, with that vague air she affects when she knows a whole lot more than she's prepared to let on. I wonder about Nell sometimes, I really do. How can someone that small be quite so sneaky? And then I remember that Hetty is even smaller and considerably sneakier. Obviously it's the little ones you have to be wary of. I'm going to have to start to keep a closer eye on Callen in that case.
"Really? That would be great." I'm not proud. On the contrary, I'm desperate. I'd like to find a place to share before we're both drawing our pensions, after all. Kensi just looks sceptical.
"Let me see what I can do. I've got to make a few phone calls, so it could take me a couple of hours." She gives a distracted nod, and then floats away. Is it my imagination, or are Eric's eyes glued to her butt? If he looks much harder, his glasses are going to steam up. Eric and Nell? Interesting.
"It can't be that hard to find somewhere to live, surely?" Callen says, with the irritating air of a man who has never rented an apartment and only has a house because his boss did all the hard work for him, right down to filling out the loan application. All Callen had to do was sign on the dotted line, exactly where Hetty told him too. Mind you, I'm hardly one to talk, because I did exactly the same thing when she persuaded me to join NCIS as the LAPD liaison. Hetty punches way above her weight, and that's the truth.
"Do you want a bet?" Kensi opens her desk drawer, hauls out a stack of papers and dumps them on his desk. "Take a look through these particulars I printed off the internet. And that's just two days worth."
Callen grows pale and I'm beginning to think he's realising just how hard house hunting is. But no, this is Callen, the man who is in charge of the stationery budget. You can practically see the dollar signs in his eyes. "You printed all these off? Here? In full colour?" He would probably say more, only Kensi is glaring at him.
"I printed them off. Here. In full colour. How about you make yourself useful and go dump them in the recycling bin?" I've said it before, but it's worth repeating: you mess with Kensi at your own peril. Callen would do well to bear that in mind.
I just keep my head down. That seems safest, somehow. How come Hetty doesn't materialise and act as fairy godmother to Kensi and I, and just magically produce a house for us, like she did for Callen? She's always popping up when you least expect her, but of course just when we could really use her help, she's nowhere to be seen.
"Sorry. I'm just a bit stressed by this whole thing." Kensi waits until Callen returns from the recycling bins. "We didn't think it would take this long."
"We've both handed in notice to quit from our apartments and we've only got two weeks left." I'm beginning to think that we're not going to find anywhere suitable to rent before Christmas at this rate. "Still, I guess if we're desperate, we could move in with you, Callen?"
If he'd gone pale before, Callen is now positively ashen. "I'd love to have you, only it won't be possible."
Really? Now that's interesting. Don't tell me Callen's gone and got himself a girlfriend – at last? It's about time. "Don't worry, we won't cramp your style," I assure him.
Now, I wouldn't have believed a man could go from sheet white to bright red quite so quickly. Callen has to gulp twice and then clear his throat before he trusts his voice. "It's not that. It's more that, well – I'd be scared to go anywhere in my own house, because you two would probably be… well, you know."
"Talking?" Kensi suggests smoothly. "Give us a little credit for having some self-restraint, please."
She's speaking for herself, clearly. I have no self-restraint where Kensi is concerned. But I do know when to keep my mouth shut.
"Maybe Sam could help you out?" Callen suggests.
"No way. My daughter is young and impressionable. And I want to make sure she stays like that."
Why does everyone think we're going to corrupt the morals of minors? "What about your bomb shelter? That's private and out of the way."
"I am not living in a bomb shelter!" Kensi turns to Sam in astonishment. "And why have you got a bomb shelter in the first place? Don't tell me you believed all that stuff about the millennium bug destroying society as we knew it?"
"I like to be prepared," Sam says stiffly, so we all now she's hit the nail on the head. Mr Over-Protective is also Mr Over-Reactive. He must have felt so stupid on at midnight when nothing happened. Not to mention a whole lot lighter in his wallet. "I was just looking out for my family."
"You weren't even married back then," his partner reminds him callously. "You're just paranoid, that's what you are."
I wouldn't mind being paranoid, if it meant I had a roof over my head. I wouldn't even mind being paranoid in a bomb shelter. "There was that place we looked at yesterday," I remind Kensi, with a surrepticious wink. "It wasn't too bad." It wasn't too good either, but that's beside the point.
"They wouldn't take dogs," Kensi says flatly and then looks at me aghast. "Deeks – no way."
"We need to find somewhere to live – soon. And it was the best of the lot." Which isn't saying too much. "Monty – well, maybe he could go live with Sam for a while. Or Callen. Just until we find something better." I just hope I sound suitably brave and long-suffering.
"It would be like splitting up the family." I'm pretty sure there are tears in Kensi's eyes. Wow, she's a better actress than I gave her credit for. Out of the side of my eye, I can see Sam and Callen exchanging guilty looks. Excellent. They really do need to show a little more team spirit, after all. What's wrong with putting us up for a few weeks? Callen especially should show a little more compassion – after all, he made a career out of living at other people's places.
"I know. But what other option do we have?" I shrug in a self-depreciating, manful sort of way. We really are a great team. You might even think we've planned this little interlude. Actually, we have - that's how desperate we are right now. Still, there's no denying that we're good. Or bad, depending on your point of view. Of course, it does help that our opposite numbers have played straight into our hands.
"It's like that film: Who Will Love My Children?" This time, Kensi manages a poignant little break in her voice, but I think she might just have taken that a step too far. There is laying on guilt, and then there is taking it to ridiculous extremes. That film reference is completely lost on me and it'll mean nothing to the guys either. What man is going to watch a film with a title like that?
Only amazingly enough, it does mean something to them. In fact, it seems to ring a chord in the key of guilty with them, because they both stare down and their feet, and shuffle back and forwards in an awkward manner. Wow. Good move, Kensi.
"I guess you could stay for a while. All of you. Including Monty. But just until you find somewhere suitable." You would think we had fleas or something, the way Callen says this. He gives new meaning to the word 'grudging'.
"No need." Nell comes running down the stairs, brandishing a piece of paper triumphantly. "I think I might just have found the answer to your prayers."
"Really?" I always thought there was more to Nell than meets the eye, and this just confirms it. Clearly she has some very good contacts indeed.
"Let me see." Kensi scans the particulars carefully. "It's in one of our favourite neighbourhoods, two blocks from the ocean and we can afford it."
"Seriously?" When something sounds too good to be true, it usually is, in my experience. Only it does seem perfect. "How come a house with two bedrooms and a garden hasn't been snapped up? What's wrong with it?"
Nell gives me an indignant look. "There's nothing wrong with it. And it's not exactly on the market yet. Which is why you can't see it until evening. The realtor is doing me a special favour."
"This evening?" I can see Kensi doing mental calculations. "We might just manage it, Deeks. If we sign the papers tonight, or tomorrow at the latest."
"If it's the right place," I remind her. "And if they take dogs."
"They take dogs," Nell says with utter certainty.
It might be my imagination, but is there a note of complacency in her voice? For some reason, I've got a feeling there is more to this than meets the eye. But then beggars can't be choosers, can they?: And right now, we've got nothing to lose.
"Pinch me," Kensi commands.
"Yeah, right." While her butt is eminently pinchable, I'm pretty certain that would earn me a slap around the jaw.
"No, seriously. Because I must be dreaming. This can't be it. Can it?"
She's got a point. We've just drawn up outside a seriously nice house, in a quiet street. "It's the right address. Maybe they got the rent wrong?" Looking at the house I reckon the owner could get twice they're currently asking. There has to have been some mistake.
"Probably." Kensi heaves a world-weary sigh. "Well, we're here now, so we might as well go and have a look."
The setting sun is turning the windows of the house a deep gold as we walk up to the front door. The house is newly painted and well-maintained. I'm struggling to find a single thing wrong with it, apart from the fact that this is too good to be true.
"I love it already," Kensi declares, in tones of deepest despair. "I mean, it's even got a porch. And a garage."
"A two car garage," I feel duty bound to point out. And it even looks big enough to have room for my surfboards and my skateboards. Life holds no more. This is torture. No, it's worse that than – it's cruelty to dumb Deeks's. "There's got to be a catch: like it's contaminated by Radon gas, or it used to be a CIA safe-house. Or it's already been rented."
Before I can ring the bell, the door opens. "Ms Blye and Mr Deeks? I've been expecting you. Why don't you come on in?"
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Taking a deep breath, we go inside and prepare to have all our dreams shattered. There's nothing like a little ritual humiliation to make you feel really crappy about yourself. I've got a nasty feeling that we're going to be taking Callen up on his somewhat less than wholehearted offer of accommodation. And then there were three… no, make that four. We might have been kidding them on earlier today, but Monty is definitely non-negotiable. I really would rather sleep on the streets that give him away.