Kensi steps out into the sunshine, shielding her eyes as they adjust to the sudden influx of light. "Well that was -"
"Awful," Deeks finishes for her, slipping on his sunglasses as they make their way toward the parking structure.
He looks ridiculously good. Totally not her type - blond, shaggy hair, scruffy unmanicured beard - but she could do things to him in those aviators. She can easily picture Deeks in a game of shirtless beach volleyball. In fact, if she could just pop open the buttons on that black dress shirt, slide it right off his shoulders...
She clears her throat and her mind. This is the kind of thinking that leads her to "testing" the new analyst by having her find an unlisted cell number and locating its GPS coordinates. She's got to get a handle on this before he files a restraining order. "It was horrible, wasn't it?"
"It was really, really bad."
"I'm so sorry I dragged you to that."
Deeks shrugs and gestures to the escalator, pausing momentarily so she can step on ahead of him. "It wasn't a total loss."
She looks back over her shoulder and shoots up a solitary eyebrow. "Oh no?"
He grins. "The Sour Patch Kids were great."
She shakes her head and turns back around. Here she is imagining running her hands across his bare, probably very firm chest and he's excited about a box of candy. It's supposed to be the other way around. She loves candy. She's skipped out on dates early to make sure she had time for a box of Twinkies before bed.
"But they weren't very filling," he continues, as they step onto their parking level. "You up for a meal?"
Or eight. She's starving. And really, really wants a Twinkie. "I could stand to eat."
He digs into his pocket and fishes out his keys, flashing her a smile as he beeps his car unlocked. "I know just the place."
Deeks pulls into a parking spot and looks over at Kensi. She's frowning.
"This okay?"
"Huh?" She looks over at him and does a half-assed fake smile thing. "Yeah, fine."
He gets out of the car, keys jangling in his hand as he waits for her to join him. When she does, he starts walking.
"You don't like the beach?" he asks as she falls into step.
She shrugs. "I thought we were going to have dinner."
"We are. Best fish tacos in the city."
She makes a sour face at the food truck ahead of them. It doesn't have the desired effect, however, because it's too adorable to deter him. "They also have regular tacos."
"You know there are things called restaurants."
"Come on, Agent Blye." He steps up to the window and turns to give her his winningest smile. "Live a little."
She grumps through his order and the wait for the tacos. He thanks the vendor and nods to the water bottles, indicating that Kensi should grab them. She does, following as he makes his way onto the beach.
He finds a quiet spot in the sand, near enough to the strip so the light won't totally abandon them after the sun goes down, but far enough from the fluorescent glare that they won't be overheard. He plops down, setting the taco trays beside him.
She joins him on the ground. "I live plenty, thank you."
Deeks digs through the tacos to find a beef one and trades her for one of the waters. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Give me an example."
"Today I -"
He shakes his head. "Work doesn't count."
She frowns again, taking a bite of her taco, her eyes on the horizon as the sun begins its descent.
He takes a few bites of his own, watching as the gears churn in her head. There's a slight breeze blowing wisps of hair across her forehead, the rest of it tied back into a ponytail. She's beautiful, even without the reflecting sunset, but something about the pink and orange glow makes her even more attractive. And somehow the way she's shoving the taco into her face actually adds to her charm.
"So you think," she says around a mouthful of food, "what my life is lacking is questionable seafood and sand in my underwear."
"Well, if the sand is getting in your underwear, maybe I'll have to rethink my previous assumptions about your lifestyle," he answers, already imagining the myriad of ways he could get sand in her underwear. He drains half his water as he considers the possibilities.
"I can practically see what you're thinking, you know," she mumbles, the entire taco now in her mouth.
He licks some grease off his fingers. "So you're picturing it too?"
She clears her throat and reaches for another taco. "Is this your place?"
"My place?"
"The place you go for Deeks time."
"Actually, I like to take care of Deeks time in the shower." He grabs a second taco. "Less mess."
She thwaps him on the arm. "Oh my god!"
He grins. "Sounds a lot like that, yeah."
"You're an idiot."
He shrugs and returns his attention to his dinner. They eat in silence for a while. Or rather, she does. He gets through his second taco and she's already on her fourth with no sign of slowing. He sips at his water as she finishes off the rest of the tray.
When she's done, she wipes her hands across her jeans and sips from her water bottle. "Tell me about your job."
"What about it?"
"Do you go undercover a lot?"
He tosses his empty bottle into the tray. "Exclusively if I can help it."
"Can you help it?"
"Not as often as I'd like." He leans back on his hands. "What about you? Much undercover?"
She shrugs one shoulder. "Sort of?"
"What does that mean?"
She shrugs again. "Nothing more than what you've seen."
"No deep cover?"
"Nope."
"Ever?"
"Never. Not me, anyway. The guys have, but - I guess I haven't had the opportunity."
He wonders about her undercover team - wonders what it would be like to always spend the night as Marty Deeks. To do what he does, what he loves, but with a partner, with resources, with the comfort of knowing you can always come up for air. "Do you want the opportunity?"
"I don't know."
He doesn't press, sure there's more to it, but unsure if she'd welcome the invasion.
"Do you ever consider doing anything else?" she asks after a moment. "Not being under so much?"
"But then who would catch the bad guys?"
She rolls her eyes. "Right, how silly of me."
"I do, sometimes, yeah," he answers honestly. "It's probably not realistic to think I can do it forever."
Sometimes he thinks he'd like a normal life. He could go into the station every morning in a suit and tie, be home most nights in time for dinner. But he has trouble picturing himself spending the majority of his days at the station, or even the majority of one day, working side-by-side with the rest of the precinct, coming home to a wife and kid and lasagne at the table instead of tossing a turkey burger down on the couch and unwinding while he talks at Monty about his day. He has trouble envisioning that type of future.
When he looks over at Kensi, she's sitting upright, arms wrapped around herself, eyes distant, and he thinks it's possible she's imagining a future of her own.
"Cold?"
She turns and nods. "A little, yeah."
He debates edging closer and wrapping an arm around her. Instead, he stands and reaches out with an open hand. "Let me take you home."
She steps out of the car and into the night. The wind has picked up, and her hair slips across her face. She sweeps it back behind her ear and closes the door behind her. Deeks is sliding out of the driver's seat.
She'd cross her arms in protest if she didn't need to keep swiping at her hair. "I don't need you to walk me to my door."
He walks beside her anyway. "I didn't for a second think that you did."
"And yet..."
"Hey, I'm a gentleman. I can't just turn that off."
She tamps down on a smile. She may not need him to walk her to her door, but there's a part - albeit a very, very small part - that wants it. She may not be comfortable with the damsel role, but she's enjoying his company and is willing to make a few sacrifices to extend it.
"There you are," he says, when she stops in front of her door and pulls out her keys. "Delivered safe and sound."
"My hero."
"I'm a civil servant, ma'am. Just doing my duty."
She shakes her head and unlocks the door, opening it slightly and turning back around. "Thank you for tonight, Deeks. It was nice."
He nods. "Thanks for checking up on me."
"You're welcome."
"Shall I give you my phone number or should I assume you already have it?"
She blushes, she's sure of it. "I've got it."
He unlocks his phone and hands it to her. "My tech guys don't do personal errands."
She takes it, punching in her number. Her fingers dance over the letters of her name, but she pauses just before handing the device back to him. She taps the screen a few times, beginnings of a grin starting to unfurl at the corners of her mouth as the flashing cursor slips backwards over her name.
"I knew you liked it," he says as he reads the display.
"Just trying to prevent any more ridiculous names you might have been tempted to go with."
"Like Kiki?"
"Exactly."
He hums on a smile. "So, Kensikins, about those restaurant thingies you spoke of..."
"Yes?"
"I was thinking you'd like to take me to one."
She barks a laugh. "Oh, I would, would I?"
He scrunches his nose and nods. "You would."
Her hair slips out from behind her ear again, but before she can get it his fingers are brushing over her cheek. Her breath catches and she's fairly sure he's able to hear her heart pounding as it tries to jump right out of her chest.
He tucks the hair gently behind her ear and lets his hand trail slowly back down to his side. "It's a date then."
"It's a date."
He turns and walks to his car without looking back.
She steps into her apartment, closes the door, and releases the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding until after the deadbolt slid home. Images are flashing through her mind too quickly for her to focus and she knows sleep will be a fleeting thing the remainder of the night.
"Really? I can't like," Deeks gestures toward the hallway with his thumb, "go get a smoothie or something? I'll be back in fifteen. Twenty, tops."
She shakes her head.
"Great." He sighs and slouches further into the chair. He's going stir crazy here. It's been almost a month with no undercover ops and he's been riding so much precinct pine he's got a splinter in his ass. But today - today was going to be a good day. Today Kensi was going to take him to a restaurant. Today was not supposed to include getting called into the lieutenant's office and spending his lunch break watching Bates' secretary try her best to fight off hyperventilation.
"Sorry, Marty."
"Not your fault, Margaret. What's going on, anyway?"
The phone on her desk rings. Again. "Hostage situation at the Navy recruitment center," she says before holding up a finger and answering the call. "Lieutenant Bates' office."
Navy recruitment center. Interesting. So, odds are -
"Deeks!"
Deeks pops up out of his chair and follows the sound of Bates's voice into the room.
"So, hostage situation," he says as he steps inside. "That sounds pretty dire. Need an extra hand?" He holds up his hands. "Or two?"
Bates, predictably, isn't amused. "Do you know what I hate more than a hostage situation, Detective?"
Deeks considers answering 'smiles' or 'joy' but in a rare display of good judgment he goes with, "Nothing, sir?"
"Missiles." Bates tosses a folder across his desk. "According to the FBI, we've got a set of spike missiles here in Los Angeles."
He slides the folder closer and flips it open. "Have the Feds tried airing some of those Travel Utah commercials? They're pretty enticing. Might help move the problem right out of our jurisdiction."
"Perfect. Maybe they'll move you out of my jurisdiction."
He turns to the next page. This guy looks like a major doofus. He loves it when the criminals are doofuses. Makes the job so much more fun. "You trying to get rid of me, sir?"
Bates points to the file. "After you get these missiles."
"Perfect." He closes the file and tucks it under his arm. "Incentive."
"Twenty bucks says he banged her."
"Renko!' Kensi follows her partner as he weaves through a growing crowd of people outside the recruitment center.
He turns back, grinning. "What? I'd bang her."
She shakes her head. "She does seem like your type."
"Hot?"
"Criminally insane."
He laughs, holding the crime scene tape up and letting her duck under first. They flash their badges at a uniformed officer when he comes up to stop them. It's only their second week together as partners, but they're finding a rhythm. She's still going to have to get a permanent partner eventually, but for now she's content to fall back onto familiarity and completely ignore the inevitable decision that looms in the future.
"There," Renko says, pointing. She jogs a little to catch up with him as he makes his way to join Sam and Callen.
"Let's just say she's the kind of person who chooses the mission over the partner," Callen is saying as they approach.
Renko gives Kensi an "I told you so" look. She rolls her eyes.
"All right, well, let me get the lay of the land, see what I can dig up," Sam says. "And somebody needs to see what we can do about getting LAPD to back off and let us take over."
"I'm on it," Kensi says without thinking.
Three heads swivel her direction.
"I mean, I can take care of it, but only if you need me to. Or not, whatever."
Sam gives Callen a look that she can't read but she's pretty sure it's not one she wants exchanged. She really wants to kick herself. Repeatedly. Combine this with her volunteering to liaise with LAPD at the Rehme house last week and she's really starting to make an ass of herself.
"Okay, Kensi," says Callen, nodding toward the tent. "Let's go."
They make it about two feet before he asks, "So, you feeling especially social these days? Or maybe you're attracted to a particular shade of blue?"
"Just trying to work on my interagency relations."
Callen smirks. "I bet."
Deeks arrives on scene behind a pair of cruisers, slipping on his jacket after he steps out of his car. A short guy in a fancy suit is shuffled over toward the first cruiser and stuffed in while a familiar group of feds is gathered by some shipping containers.
He runs his hand through his hair and crosses over to the NCIS team.
"Well, well, well," Sam says when he sees him approach.
"Sam, Callen," he nods to the agents. "Guy I don't know," he nods to the third before his eyes settle on Kensi. "Kensi."
"Hey," she says back, breaking eye contact as quickly as possible.
"I'm Mike Renko, by the way," says the guy beside Kensi, his hand out for Deeks to shake.
Deeks drags his eyes from her and takes the offered hand. "Detective Marty Deeks, nice to meet you. You must be Kensi's partner."
"I'm taking her for a spin."
"I'm sorry, you're -"
"Just filling in," Renko says, smiling, hands slipping into his pockets as he rocks back on his heels.
"Gotcha. So," Deeks clears his throat, "I hear you guys had quite a day. My intel suggests this is the second time you've lost the lady with the shotgun. She must be particularly slippery."
Renko gives Callen a look that makes Deeks wonder what it is he's missing, and Kensi's looking anywhere but at him.
"We got the missiles," Sam says, all business. "That's what you're here for."
Deeks nods. "One out of two ain't bad. Better luck next time?"
Sam grunts and follows Callen, who has apparently decided the meeting is over. They're doing a better job of hiding whatever this is than the two junior agents, but they're still telegraphing that something's going on and they don't want him to know about it.
"I'll just get those witness statements later then," he calls after their departing forms. He turns to the remaining agents. "Rough day?"
Renko shrugs. "I like it rough."
Deeks raises his eyebrows. More than he wanted to know.
"Kensi, can I, uh..." He trails off, unsure of how much to say in front of her teammate.
"Yeah, sure." She digs in her pocket and retrieves her keys, tossing them to Renko. "Be right there."
"Does this mean you're going to let me drive?"
Her eyes narrow slightly in response.
"Yeah, didn't think so."
She waits until he's out of earshot to ask, "Making friends, huh?"
Deeks shrugs. "I'm not worried about getting people to like me."
"Any people?"
"Most people."
"I hear that's a great plan for undercover operations."
"Well, I do appeal to a certain criminal element."
"It's the hair."
"It's the charm."
She makes a face.
"Okay," he concedes, "it's partly the hair." He digs his hands into his pockets. "So, about tonight."
"Cancelling?"
"Postponing." He glances briefly back at the cruisers. "There's a douchebag to interrogate and there's going to be a lot of cleanup. The paperwork alone is going to take me well into the evening."
"Okay, yeah, of course." She nods a little too fervently. "I've got paperwork, too."
"Right, yeah. So, I'll give you a call in a few days?"
She nods with a too-tight smile and turns to leave.
She hasn't even fully turned her back to him when his hand reaches out, snagging her arm. "Hey, wait a second."
She swings back around, eyes widening when he leaves his hand on her arm and guides her back toward the side of the nearest shipping container.
He stops as soon as they're blocked from view.
Her eyes are still wide. "What are you -"
He pulls her to him and presses his lips to hers. He meant it to only last a second, but suddenly her fingers are clutching the front of his shirt and somehow his hand has come up and tangled in her hair and, okay, wow, he definitely wants this to last more than a second.
Their lips come apart and she pulls her head back, putting some distance between them.
"I, uh," he rubs his hand over his mouth, "I wanted to do that the other night and then, well, I didn't and I've sort of been thinking about how much of an idiot I was, so, yeah." He doesn't know whether to be discouraged or encouraged by the amused expression on her face. "Call you tomorrow?"
She nods, breathing out a response almost too quiet for him to hear.
"Tomorrow."