a/n: Thanks for the feedback so far! I appreciate you guys sticking with me for this ride :)
Kensi steps out of the car and onto Mulholland, the crime scene tape ahead of her fluttering in the wind. LAPD uniforms mill about, waiting for Midshipman Roth's car to be pulled back up the hill.
"Well?" Sam asks as Callen hangs up his cell, disconnecting from Eric back at ops.
Callen slips the phone into his pocket and slams the door. "Hetty says it's ours."
Sam nods toward the two guys in sport coats, arms folded as they impatiently wait for the crane to finish its task. "They know that?"
Callen walks ahead. "They will in a minute."
The agents flash their badges at a uniformed officer and slip under the yellow tape. Callen leads the three of them to the detectives, credentials still in hand.
"Gentlemen," he says when they are within earshot. "I'm Special Agent Callen, NCIS. This is Special Agent Hanna -"
"And that one's Blye," says a familiar voice from behind her. "Her specialness is up for debate."
Kensi turns to find a third detective resting on the hood of an unmarked sedan, arms folded across his chest as he observes the organized chaos of the scene. He's in slacks and a dress shirt, sleeves rolled up and top button undone. She assumes his tie and jacket are wadded up on the floor of his apartment. Her apartment is probably more accurate. The ubiquitous her.
Sam shakes his head. "Deeks."
He nods back, pushing off of the car and walking toward the group. "Sam."
"Crawled out from under that rock finally, eh, Deeks?" asks one of the detectives, turning his attention to the newest arrival.
"Just so I could see your shining face, Goldstein. You know how much I adore it."
"Piss off."
"Oo," Deeks sucks air through his teeth, "you know I'd love to, but it seems Bates actually wants this one solved. Unlike the last - what was it, four? five? - murders you clowns have drawn."
Kensi could swear Goldstein actually growls.
"As I was saying," Callen continues, "this case involves the death of a sailor in the US Navy. That puts it squarely in NCIS' jurisdiction. We'll go ahead and take it off your hands."
"Perfect," Goldstein snorts. He jabs his thumb toward Deeks. "Take him, too."
"Pass," says Sam, already following Callen to where the car is now resting, fifteen feet back from the edge of the embankment, a body laid out on a stretcher beside it.
Deeks brings his hand to his chest. "That gives me such a warm, fuzzy feeling."
Kensi takes a last look at Deeks before following the senior agents. Sure, he's mildly attractive and has some strange, irritation-fueled pull on her, and yeah, okay, maybe she pictures him sometimes when she shouldn't, but she doesn't think they actually need him in a professional capacity. She can let him twist in the wind. She doesn't feel bad about it.
Not really bad, anyway.
She pulls latex gloves out of her pocket and puts them on as she walks up to the body and takes in the damage, shaking her head to refocus her attention on the case.
"Okay, two gun shots: shoulder, ribs. This guy would have bled out even without the crash." Her eyes sweep to the vehicle, finding a splash of crimson on the exterior, just below the shattered window. "There's blood on the door handle."
Sam steps up to the car, bending over to inspect the smear. "That means he got shot before he got into the car."
"We need to find that crime scene."
Kensi follows Callen's gaze and her eyes land on downtown Los Angeles, sprawled out below them. It always seems so much bigger from up here.
"Sounds like a job for a detective," says Deeks, startling Kensi as he comes up beside her, his shoulder brushing hers for a moment before he puts more distance between them. "If only you knew where to find one."
She rolls her eyes, turning back to the scene. "If only."
"You think you can solve this, Deeks?"
He frowns, but amusement lights his eyes. "What, you don't want to team up again, Sam? After I saved your ass?"
"I had it under control."
"Is that what that was?"
"All right, Deeks," Callen says, holding back a smile, "you find the crime scene and we'll make this a joint op."
Deeks grins, snapping on a pair of blue latex gloves and stepping up to the body. "Challenge accepted."
It takes all of thirty seconds before he steps back and snaps the gloves back off.
"Give up already?" Kensi asks, eyes still scanning the body.
"Nope. Found it."
She abandons her search. "What, seriously? You found the crime scene from looking at the corpse?"
"Where were you expecting me to look? Google?"
In spite of himself, Sam snorts. "Okay, Colombo. Where to?"
"Dust off your spandex mini, Agent Blye," Deeks answers, his eyes twinkling. "We're headed to the hottest club in Hollywood." He turns to Sam. "Do you want to be a crime lord or a starlet? Can't be both. I'll tell you which one has more comfortable footwear, though."
"How do you know?"
"Well, typically woman feel obligated to -"
"The club, Deeks. How do you know about the club?"
Deeks reaches for the midshipman's wrist, wrapping it in the glove so he can hold it up without touching it. A lowercase b is printed in blue ink on the dead man's skin. "Door stamp for Balm."
"Okay, so Roth was there," Sam says, adding their newfound knowledge to the pieces they already have. "Something happens that puts him in Aubrey Darva's car and gets him shot."
Deeks sets the wrist back down. "Balm isn't just socialite central for the Aubrey Darvas of the world, there's a lot of bad guys hanging out there too. We should go ask for their security tapes and see if we can get some interviews, but my guess is no one will be very forthcoming."
Kensi shakes her head and turns her attention to the car as Callen pulls out his cell. Deeks may have found the first clue, but she's fairly certain they'll be carrying the weight of this "joint" operation the rest of the way.
"Eric? A nightclub by the name of Balm. We need to see its security footage."
Deeks throws up a hand. "Or we can call your top-secret lab and have your resident geniuses do it."
"Guys," Kensi says as she reaches through the passenger window, retrieving the items strewn on the floor and placing them on the roof of the car. "Shoes, clutch."
She opens the bag, finding exactly what she feared she would. She holds it up for the others to see. "Cell phone. Things a girl does not leave behind."
"And here," says Deeks, drawing the agents' attention to the driver's seat, "pink fabric. Same color Aubrey Darva wore last night."
Kensi raises her eyebrows.
"Okay," he admits, "so that one I googled."
"Let's see how well you search outside the web," Callen says, removing his gloves. "Find Aubrey Darva. Take Kensi with you."
Kensi bristles, stepping forward in challenge. "Wait, what?"
Callen ignores her and turns away, calling over his shoulder as he goes. "Sam and I are going to see what we can find on Balm. You two see what you can find on Darva."
Callen and Sam get into the Challenger and drive off, leaving Kensi and her protests, literally and proverbially, in the dust.
"So by 'joint op' he really meant 'NCIS op with one exceedingly handsome and quick-witted extra foot-soldier.'" Deeks' face scrunches up as he nods. "That makes sense."
"Ugh," she groans. So she's stuck with dead weight. He might be attractive, but he's also cocky. And the attractive doesn't even begin to offset the dead weight. Perfect. She stalks toward the sedan Deeks had been resting on earlier. "You better keep up."
"It's my car," he protests as she opens the door and slips into the driver's seat. "You can't drive my car."
She looks back at him, one hand on the wheel and the other on the handle. "Arrest me."
She slams the door and he drops his head back, either resigning himself to his fate or asking for a little divine intervention.
She's guessing it's probably both.
After interviewing Aubrey's stepfather, they make their way back to Deeks' Malibu. He doesn't even bother heading for the driver's side. Kensi's got the keys and he's betting she won't give them up voluntarily.
As fun as it might be, he figures getting in a scufffle with a fed in a multi-millionaire's driveway probably won't sit well with Bates.
He closes the door after himself as he slides into his seat. He shakes his head a little to get his hair out of his eyes. He glances over briefly at the click of Kensi's seat belt and finds his partner-of-the-moment looking straight back at him, an indiscernible expression on her face.
"What?"
"Nothing."
He grins. "You want me to do it again but in slow motion?"
"What?" She scoffs, turning away. "No."
"I don't mind," he assures her. He watches as a blush colors her cheeks. It's adorable.
"God, please, no. I don't want any of your fleas to land on me."
She's no longer looking at him, busily sending a text or checking her facebook app. He makes a mental note: Badass Blye likes his hair. He wonders if she likes anything else.
Before he gets a chance to wonder too much, Kensi's phone pings with a text. She checks it then tosses her phone onto the console and starts the ignition.
"We need to go to the station," he tells her as she pulls onto the street. "I've got to put a BOLO out for Aubrey and get in touch with Robbery about these break-ins."
She shakes her head. "I need to report back to the mission. See what Sam and Callen turned up."
"And you need to do that from your secret hidey hole? Your resident geniuses back at the top-secret lab haven't outfitted you with some type of new-fangled cellular communications device that will allow you to communicate remotely with the people back at base while you spend time apprenticing with a real detective?"
She looks at him in challenge. "Can't put out a BOLO over the phone?"
"Sure, I can. I just assumed you wouldn't want me to know where 'the misson' - dumb name, by the way, unless it's made out of tortilla chips - is actually located."
She shrugs, nonplussed, and turns her attention back to the road. "I can put a bag over your head."
"But then you'll muss my expertly-styled coif."
"It'll probably be an improvement."
"Five minutes ago I might have believed you thought that." He flicks his hair dramatically. She ignores him.
"Will your head be in the bag, too?"
She doesn't bother with a response.
He looks out the window, scanning the passing scenery. "So, south on the five, huh?"
She makes a hacky, annoyed sound and reaches back behind her. Her hand swings around and finds nothing but air.
"Can I help you?"
"I was looking for something to put over your head."
"What, literally?"
"Yes, literally."
"And you thought I'd have a hood or something just chilling in the back seat?"
"Or something."
"Interesting. So, you're the kind of girl who uses your car like a closet."
"No," she defends, pretty unconvincingly. He finds it fascinating that someone who lies so expertly in the field is such a horrible fibber. "I just like to have stuff on hand. You never know what you'll need."
"How about if I just cover my eyes with my hands?"
"How about if I temporarily blind you with some mace?"
Either she got a lot better at lying in the last ten seconds or she's totally serious. He scrubs his hand over his face. "I'll stick my head between my knees."
She smiles. "Deal."
She tries not to enjoy the feel of his lower back against her hand as she guides him into the mission, but she doesn't even come close to succeeding.
"Can I open my eyes now?" he asks as they make their way down the hallway. "Or is there some sort of detention room you're leading me to?"
She reluctantly removes her hand as they arrive in the bullpen. It's possible she forgot to let him free right when they walked in the door, but she's definitely not admitting it. "You can open them."
He blinks, adjusting his eyes to the flood of light, and looks around the room. "Huh."
"What?"
"I was joking before about tortilla chips but now I'm not so sure."
She rolls her eyes and drops down into her chair. Damn, now she's craving nachos.
Deeks starts toward Callen's desk. "Can I use the phone?"
She shakes her head. "Callen's. He'll probably be here in a second."
He pivots, pointing to Sam's in silent question.
"Sam's."
He nods to the fourth desk. "So this must be your partner's."
Her throat constricts as she watches him glance around the room, like maybe he's waiting for Dom to show up. It's silly and it's embarrassing and she hopes he doesn't notice.
"When do I get to meet her?"
Kensi pushes out of her chair and steps out from behind her desk, suddenly unable to be here a moment longer - unable to talk about it or explain.
"Use mine. I need to run up and check on the guys anyway. Just don't," she waves her hand over her organized clutter. "Don't touch anything."
She's up the stairs before he has a chance to respond.
Deeks hangs up with Doug in Robbery and scratches the back of his head, trying to make sense of his notes. It would be a lot easier if he had a -
A Thomas Guide lands on the desk in front of him, as if his thoughts had summoned it.
"Neat trick." He looks up to find Hetty beside him. He never even heard her come up.
"Mark all over it," she says. "I have more."
He nods his thanks and goes to the index to find the street he's looking for.
He turns to the page he needs and looks up at Hetty, standing there, observing him. He doesn't know whether to prompt her question or keep working like she's not there.
He's leaning toward the latter when she finally speaks.
"If you need your own workspace, you may use the desk next to Sam's."
He thinks about the way all the light left Kensi's eyes when he mentioned her partner. It's probably not something he wants to start poking around in.
"I don't want to get in anyone's way."
Hetty clasps her hands behind her back and looks across at the desk, expression unreadable as ever.
"You won't be in Agent Vail's way," she informs him. "Dom's been missing for some time now."
"I'm sorry."
She nods. "Thank you."
With one final glance at the empty desk, Hetty turns and walks away.
"Oh, and Mr. Deeks," she says without turning back, "dismount those horses before Kensi returns. She was serious about not wanting anything touched."
Turns out he's not exactly dead weight (though she gives herself a mental pat on the back for being spot-on about the attractive and cocky).
Throughout the course of their case he puzzles out a few riddles, breaks up a major robbery ring, helps rescue Kensi and saves Callen's life. Not bad for a detective.
Not that she's telling him that, of course.
And it was... not fun, exactly, but mildly amusing, maybe, to have him by her side. He was irritating, sure, but there were a few occasions that she can grudgingly admit to actually having enjoyed his company.
After she wraps up her informal debrief with Aubrey Darva, Kensi returns to her car (she'd switched them to her car at the first opportunity) where she'd left her temporary partner, a virtual puppy in the passenger seat. He's let himself out and gotten himself comfortable, reclining on the hood of the car, knees up and feet on the paint. Her first instinct is to swat him off - she just got the thing detailed and who knows what kind of crap he's got on those soles - but for some reason she can't quite bring herself to vocalize it.
"Gulls are coming in," he says as she approaches. "That means there's going to be wicked swell on the bay by morning."
She sets the coffee she bought him on his forehead, pulling off his aviators and setting them on his chest when she does. "You're a surfer, huh?"
He makes a face and removes the coffee. "You telling me you're not?"
"Nope."
He turns his attention from the sky, taking a sip of his coffee and inspecting her. She shifts a little under his scrutiny, unsure of what it is he's searching for.
"How can you live in Southern California and not be a surfer?"
She pushes off from where she's been leaning on the car and walks in front of it, making her way to the driver's side. "It's a daily struggle, but I've managed to somehow persevere."
"Huh." He turns back to the gulls. "Well, I'm going to be out for a while. Otherwise I'd offer to show you the ropes."
"Out?"
"LAPD op I've been trying to set up for months - all the pieces finally came together about an hour ago. Going undercover tonight."
She sweeps her hair off her face, suddenly inexplicably disappointed. "For how long?"
"Don't know. Cover's pretty deep."
She watches as he slides off the car and onto the pavement.
"Don't worry, Fern," he says, slipping his sunglasses back onto his face. "I'll leave some bad guys for you."
She smiles, in spite of herself, but he doesn't see it.
He's already in the car, waiting for her to take him back to his so he can drive right back out of her life.