"This is the beginning of the end of life as you know it, Deeks," Callen grumbles. He soon subsides when Sam dumps an especially heavy box into his arms.
"Not necessarily." Of course it isn't. It's more like the end of the beginning. And now I'm moving to the next phase. Not all of us want to stay stuck in the past, you see. Right now building this relationship and building our home together is the most important thing in my life.
"He doesn't have a clue," Sam whispers. "About what really matters in life." I'm getting the distinct impression that behind his own front door Sam is a devoted family man.
"Tell me about it." We exchange conspiratorial smiles. Right now it is Sam and I against the world and that feels good. Callen doesn't know what he is missing.
"You've got to work at it, though," he continues. "And sometimes it's harder work than you could ever imagine. It's worth it, thought. You can trust me on that."
"I do."
Because against all the odds, Sam has managed to make his marriage work. Somehow he's found that balance. Any little tips he can give me will be gratefully received. I'm under no illusions that this is going to be easy: Kensi and I are two mature (okay, maybe that is stretching the point slightly as far as I'm concerned) individuals with strong wills, and we have been known to have the occasional difference of opinion.
Sam eyeballs me. "And you do realise, that if you ever hurt Kensi, I will hunt you down and kill you?"
"I know." I'd probably kill myself if I ever hurt her, that's how much I love Kensi. I've seen what Jack did to her, after all. I don't ever want to make her unhappy and I think Sam know that. He definitely knows what it is like to find the one woman who makes this whole crazy world make sense, that's for sure. We probably won't ever talk like this again, but I know exactly what Sam is saying and all the things he carefully isn't saying too – like the fact that he actually quite likes me, even though he die before admitting that. If I was at all sentimental, it would give me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside to know how much Sam cares. As it is, I just settle for giving him a grin, and then we get back down to unloading the van.
"Why do you have so many books?" he moans, knees visibly buckling beneath the strain.
"Because I like to read? Why do you have so many cars?" There is nothing like taking the war into the enemy's camp, after all.
He gives me a sideways look, and then carefully surveys the front yard, just to make sure we're in no danger of being overheard. "Because a man needs a hobby that gets him out of the house." Sam emphasises these last few words and then puts down his box, beckons me over and begins talking in a low undertone. "I've got a complete workshop in my garage. I've also got a recliner, a fridge full of beer and a TV in there. Sometimes a man needs a place to escape to. For hours. Think of it like a refuge, when all the female hormones threaten to overpower you. Only I didn't tell you that. Rosie would kill me if she thought I was telling you this. And don't let on to Callen, whatever you do. He has no idea what it's like." And here I thought they shared everything. Funny the things guys share when they find themselves in the same situation – i.e. helplessly in thrall to a woman and loving every minute of it.
"I won't," I assure him. Some things are sacrosanct, after all. Funnily enough, I'd been thinking about installing some racks for my boards in our garage, and maybe a workbench so I can do running repairs on my skateboards. That has now gone up from a possibility to a definite 'must have'. Sam is full of great ideas – the man is seriously underappreciated. "Did I ever tell you that you're my hero?" I'm being totally sincere here and Sam knows it.
"Then why don't you follow my example and shave once in a while? And get yourself a decent haircut while you're at it?" Sam doesn't do emotion, you see. In fact, he actively deflects it. Except when he's at home, of course. I've got the idea that Sam is the kind of guy who brings his wife a bunch of flowers, just because he saw them and he thought of her. Maybe one day, if I'm very lucky, I might just manage to have that sort of life.
As I stagger manfully back into the house, thinking that I might just have overfilled these book boxes, I notice the living room is gradually getting filled up with our possessions. The couch is set before the fireplace, the rug is on the floor and Hetty is gradually filling up the set-in bookcases on either side of it, while Rosie is busily hanging up curtains. It's beginning to look a lot like home already. Eric comes strolling up, power-drill in hand. This is not good. I trust Eric with computer equipment, but power tools are an entirely different matter. There's no telling what damage he could have done to our brand new house. Whose bright idea was it to let Eric loose with a drill?
"Kensi wants you in the bedroom," he announces, before I can say anything. "She's got something to show you."
The smile Callen produces threatens to split his face in two. "What can Kensi possibly want to show Deeks? And in the bedroom?" he ponders out loud. And then winces when Sam hits him in the arm – very hard.
"Close your eyes." I'm just pushing the bedroom door open when Kensi's voice rings out and I halt dead in my tracks.
"Why?" The house is full of people, for crying out loud. I'm not normally the shy and retiring type, but even I have my limits. Especially when these people are your workmates and one of them is your boss into the bargain.
"Because I've got a surprise for you." Does she have the worst timing in the world, or what?
"Can't it wait?" The fact that Hetty is not more than about ten feet away is kind of ruining the moment for me. There's such a thing as charming spontaneity, and then there is utter stupidity.
"No. Get your butt in here. And keep your eyes shut."
I've learned not to mess with Kensi when she uses that tone of voice, so with considerable trepidation, I do exactly as I am told. Life's a lot simpler this way, I've discovered. Once inside the room I can hear the door close behind me and then Kensi moves me into position.
"You can look now."
Can I just say that for the first time since we got together I am genuinely dreading what awaits me in the bedroom? Having an (almost) audience within earshot is bound to cramp my style. I might even get stage fright. Up until now I've never had performance anxiety issues, but there is a first time for everything.
"Doesn't it look great?"
I force my eyes open and discover that once again, Kensi is right. Women usually are, in my experience. It just takes us lesser beings (i.e. men) some time to appreciate that. Let me tell you that life is a whole lot simpler and infinitely more pleasurable once you've grasper that simple fact of life: we are usually wrong and they are always right. Anyway, she must have worked flat out because our bedroom looks incredible – the French doors are lying open to the deck and there are these lacy curtains fluttering in the breeze. And the bed – well, the bed looks amazing, with snowy white linen that positively invites you to jump on in there.
"Wow." If in doubt, keep it short, that's my advice. I can't wait for tonight. Or until everyone goes to their own homes – whichever is the sooner. And I won't be keeping it short then, you can trust me on that. It will be prolonged and detailed and we might even forget to breathe at some point in the process.
"And that's not all." There is considerable triumph in Kensi's voice. "Turn around."
Like a man in a daze, I do as I'm told and then almost collapse onto the bed in surprise. "You didn't."
"I did."
She definitely did. There, on the wall facing the bed, is the evidence: none other than the flat screen plasma TV of my dreams.
That settles it. I can't resist any longer, so I jump onto the bed and grab the remote, angling the pillows so that I've got the perfect viewing position.
"Not so fast." The remote is plucked from my fingers. "There's still a lot of work to be done in this house, mister. How about you go give Eric a hand putting up the other TV on the wall in the living room?"
So that's what he was doing. Later on, I must check he's done it properly. The last thing I want is an expensive TV crashing down onto the fireplace and shattering into a million smithereens. Eric might be a computer genius, but has he really made sure it's fixed securely? Wait a minute. What did she just say there?
"You bought two TVs?" Once again, she's managed to surprise me. Just when I reckon I know Kensi inside out, she goes and proves me wrong again. This time she has really surpassed herself and no mistake.
"That was what you wanted, wasn't it?" Kensi shrugs in a self-deprecating way. "And if it makes you happy…" She's got this big soppy smile on her face, like making me happy is the best thing that could possibly happen in her life. God, I just love her so much. How did I get so lucky?
"You make me happy." I pat the bed invitingly. "How about you let me show you how happy you make me?" The box has been sitting in my pocket, just waiting for the right opportunity and this seems as good a time as any. I haul it out and then balance it on the palm of my hand.
"This isn't some kind of joke, is it?" Kensi looks at me suspiciously.
"It's no joke. See, that day we were in Carmel, I wanted to buy you a present. Only Monty came up and next thing I knew, I was back in LA."
"And it's been bothering you ever since?" she asks, with just the merest hint of sarcasm, which I ignore. "Since when did you go for the slow reveal?"
"Originally, I was thinking of earrings," I continue.
"Earrings are good." Kensi starts to smile and then she reaches out for the box, but I snatch it out of her reach. There's something I want to say first. I'm very conscious that I should have planned all this more carefully, but here goes nothing.
"But then I realised that wasn't right. Earrings just wouldn't begin to say all the things I want to say to you." That's when I scramble up on to my knees and I can swear that the blood drains out of her face as she realises what's going on here. Truth be told, I feel kind of giddy myself.
"Nobody makes me happier than you, Kensi. Nobody makes me laugh more than you. I didn't know what love was until I found you and I want to be with you for the rest of our lives. So, will you marry me?"
Well, it wasn't perfect, but I think I got the point across, even I I was sort of gabbling towards the end. This is possibly the first time I've seen Kensi at a loss for words. She is quite literally speechless and just sits there, looking at me, then down at the box and then back up at me.
"Kensi?" I'm getting worried now. There's such a thing as a dramatic pause, and then there's an awkward silence when one person has badly misjudged the whole situation. I desperation I pop open the box, and offer it to her.
"Did you just propose?" she asks in awestruck tones. "Really propose? As in ask me to marry you?"
Exactly which bit about 'will you marry me' wasn't clear? "Definitely. Will you?"
"And you were serious?" Is she avoiding the question or what? Kensi isn't normally quite so slow on the uptake. Unless she doesn't want to get married? I hadn't thought of that possibility. Idiot. I could smack myself of the head, I really could.
"I was serious. I still am." Although I'm beginning to wonder if this really was such a great idea. I was so sure she'd say 'yes', you see. Only it looks like I was wrong. Again. I move the box a little closer, almost in desperation. Maybe it's the ring? Maybe she hates the ring?
"Oh Marty." The tears make her eyes sparkle as much as the small diamond that's nestled in a cocoon of black velvet and catching the rays of the sun. "It's so beautiful."
"I wish I'd been able to afford something bigger." Does this mean she's going to agree? I'm not going to take any chances, and my fingers are trembling as I take the ring out of the box and slip it onto her finger. Wait a minute. Does that count as forcing her into something she'd really rather not do? Why doesn't it ever happen like this in the movies?
"It's perfect. Just perfect." Kensi stretches out her hand and admires the ring with an incredulous look on her face, like this is all some sort of dream.
"So – will you marry me?" I'm conscious that she still hasn't said 'yes' and it's kind of worrying me.
"Will I?" There's a look of utter contentment on her face. "Oh, won't I? Of course I will." And then she throws her arms around my neck. So that's all right then. I guess that means we're engaged.
Put it this way, all my previous inhibitions fly out of the window at this point and it's quite some time before we rejoin our colleagues.
"Nice to see you back. Did you have a nap – or were you busy doing something else?" Callen asks sarcastically.
I give him a condescending smile, still feeling on top of the world and kind of sorry for everyone who doesn't have Kensi in their lives. "Do you want to spell it out for you?"
"No way." He shakes his head emphatically. "I'm not going there."
"Go on," Kensi croons invitingly and then extends her hand. "Just take a guess."
For a moment I think Callen is actually going to pass out on the spot. He just stands there, sheet white and with his mouth opening and shutting, but no sounds coming out. Luckily Sam steps into the breach and embraces Kensi. Then he looks at me.
"You don't deserve her."
"I know."
"I don't do all that buddy hugging."
"I know."
And then Sam just about squeezes the life out of me. Just for good measure, he then proceeds to thump me on the back several times.
Meanwhile, Hetty is very quiet. When Sam finally releases me, I look across and find that she is standing perfectly still, and with one of her trademark unreadable expressions on her face.
"Hetty?" Kensi goes across to join her "Aren't you happy for us?"
She looks up at Kensi and then across at me, but is completely silence.
"Say something, won't you?" Say anything, because this unnatural silence is killing me.
Slowly, a smile breaks out across her face. "It took you long enough, Mr Deeks." Then she looks at Callen. "Five hundred dollars, I do believe. I knew he'd propose to her today."
There isn't a damn thing that little woman doesn't know. And there isn't one single thing I'd change about my life right now. I've got everything a man could ever want.
It takes us a while, but eventually we get the house pretty much the way we want it. Kensi discovers she has a green thumb and starts to spend hours in the garden, grubbing around in the dirt with Hetty at her shoulder, proffering advice. The woman who previously was quite content to have all her clothes scattered in a wide radius around her apartment is now mortally offended by a single weed protruding from a flower bed and we even install a rainwater tank so that her precious plants can have as much water as their little hearts' desire. And me? At first I sit on the deck and watch, and just wait to be pressed into service until I give up the struggle and suggest we have a veggie patch, which quickly becomes my sole responsibility. Spring slides into summer and guess what? We are gardening – and we're enjoying it. Who would have thought it? Since when did we become so adult and (let's be honest) kind of boring? What happened to the days of going out to clubs all night and then hitting the beach, pretending that I don't have a hangover, only it's a moot point as to which is pounding more, the surf or my head? Those days are past now, and in the past they must remain. Back in the day the young, free and single hedonistic lifestyle was great, but I've been there, done that and now I want more. I want real life.
We've become a couple, and we're developing our own routines. We walk Monty, fly our kite (and Kensi manages to veto all my suggestions about how great kite surfing sounds) and we even go on vacations to places like the Napa Valley, Yosemite – and Carmel, of course. In other words, we are boringly normal. Back home, in the evenings we sometimes sit out on the porch, just swinging back and forward and watching the world go by. And sometimes, if I've been very good, I even get to watch the game on TV in bed, while Kensi pretends to be totally disinterested and absorbed in painting her toe-nails. Sometimes I find me painting her toe-nails more interesting than the game, if you want the truth. Mainly because that usually leads on to our own sort of private games. Life is very sweet.
Only, after a while we both realise that something is missing in our seemingly perfect lives. We talk one evening, only to discover that we both want something more. Neither of us sleep a whole lot that night and now it's early morning and we're lying in bed, watching the thin, pale light of dawn that is dappling the foliage in the garden and listening to the birds singing their hearts out. It's the sort of morning where the whole world feels fresh and new, and you think you should be out there, washing your eyelids in dew to see even more clearly and celebrating the fact that you are alive and the whole world is beautiful.
But we aren't celebrating. Far from it. We are both pre-occupied and we've spent the whole night carefully not touching one another, neither one of us quite sure exactly of what to say.
"I never thought I would feel like this," Kensi confesses, and sits up, pulling her knees to her chest and hugging them closely to her body.
"Me neither." This had never figured in my plans. Not ever. But the moment Kensi brought the subject up I knew she was right. It's the next step, if you like. In a lot of ways, relationships are like journeys, and sometimes you reach a point in the road where you are faced with a choice – to keep going along the safe route, or to take a huge leap into the unknown and go down the strange, mysterious path. We're at one of these junctions right now, and we both know it. We can keep on going as we are – or we can do something else.
"I can't stop thinking about it," she continues, only now she is twirling her hair around her finger, like a little girl.
"Me neither." I'm now sitting Indian fashion, facing her and holding onto her other hand, like I need her strength to do this or something stupid. I still can't believe we're talking about this. It seems so unreal, so completely implausible.
"I just feel sort of empty inside."
I don't say anything in response, because I don't quite know how I feel right now. Except slightly sick.
"But it's crazy, isn't it?" she pleads, like I've got all the answers or something. I know nothing. "And just when we've got the house exactly how we want. It's mad to even think like this, isn't it?" It's like she's begging me to stop her, only I can't.
"Is it?" We both know it isn't. We both know that this is what we want. And we both know we don't want to go on like this. "Things change. People change." Just look at us. Who would have thought we'd ever come to this?
Kensi tumbles forward into my arms. "I'm scared. I don't know if I can do this." She's clinging on around my waist.
"Sure you can." Her head is in my lap, and I'm stroking her hair. "And you do know that I love you, right? No matter what happens?"
"But what if this isn't the right thing to do? Or it's not the right time?"
"It's never going to be the perfect time. But it's what we both need. How about we just go ahead and work the rest out when we come to it?"
That sounds brave, doesn't it? Let me tell that I don't feel brave at all. This is pretty much as scared as I've even been in my whole life. I've learnt that I don't have all the answers, but I do know that sometimes life comes right up and bites you in the butt and you just have to do the best you can. I knew Kensi was the one for me right from the start, but now there are other pressures and it's got to the point where we can't ignore them anymore.
"So we're really going to do this?" Kensi is curled up into a ball now and plucking nervously at the sheet, like she's afraid to meet my eyes. I can't stop looking at the engagement ring on her finger and thinking about how we never got around to setting a wedding date. We thought we'd have more time.
"Looks like it." This is the point of no return – it's time to take that leap out into the unknown. I never thought it would come to this.
Slushy plot bunny is in agonies. He's literally rolling about the floor and moaning to himself. I think he's desperately upset about this latest turn of events. It's either that or he's constipated...