Deeks steps into the station, slipping off his aviators and placing them on his head. He waits for a pair of uniforms to pass before crossing over to the sergeant's desk and setting a cup of coffee on the counter.
"Swanson and Carter put the suspect in lockup?" he asks, taking a sip of his latte.
The desk sergeant nods and snatches up the other cup. "Two packs of sugar?"
"Aren't you sweet enough already?"
She gives him a look. Definitely not sweet enough.
"Two sugars," he confirms before slapping the desk. "Back to the trenches. Paperwork waits for no man."
"Detective," she says, halting his departure. She reaches under the counter, retrieving a manilla envelope and tossing it onto the surface. "A messenger dropped this off for you while you were out."
He turns back around and grabs the corner of the envelope, spinning it around to read the writing on the outside. It has his name and the station address on it, but no other markings to give him any indication of who it's from or what it contains.
"Is it a bomb?" he asks, looking up at the sergeant.
"Do I look like a canine to you?"
"I thought you'd have checked it out for security reasons."
"You thought wrong." She gestures toward the staircase. "Open it at your desk, just in case. There are innocent civilians down here." Her eyes sweep over to the people waiting in plastic chairs by the door. "Civilians, anyway."
"I'm heartened by your concern for my well-being."
"Just trying to minimize your death count."
He snags the envelope and heads to the stairs, sipping his coffee as he makes his way to his floor. When he reaches his division he weaves his way through the workstations and drops the envelope onto his desk, setting his coffee beside it so he can shrug off his coat.
He's just about to drop into his chair when Bates appears in his peripheral vision.
"Deeks," his lieutenant barks, tossing a thick case folder on top of the envelope, narrowly missing his cup. The pages spill out when it hits, littering his already littered desk with more tree corpses than seems healthy for the planet or his sanity. "There's been unexpected movement on Zhuravlev. Ortiz is losing his footing. Reuben thinks it's time to call in backup."
Ortiz has been under on Zhuravlev for the last three weeks. Deeks doesn't know all the details of the case, but he's got the general idea and knows that it was supposed to be long. He's likely just getting started. If they're calling in reinforcements this early in the game, shit must have really hit the fan.
Deeks scrubs his hand over his face. "How would I get in?"
"Figure it out with Reuben," Bates says, already turning away and heading back to his office. "Come and see me when you're done."
Deeks collects the file and lifts it off his desk, the weight it of much more than a simple stack of papers.
He passed this operation over when Reuben offered it three weeks ago because he knew it would take months. It's the type of op he used to volunteer for not that long ago - back when he felt most like himself when he was being someone else.
That was before. Before Kensi. Before he had a life he wasn't so interested in escaping.
Now these deep cover ops are the last thing he wants to do. He still loves going under, but he doesn't love staying under. He doesn't love spending his nights on the job when he could be spending them with Kensi and Monty and god-awful reality television shows.
He worries about what that means. Is he becoming someone else? Is he giving up who he was?
Who was he? Was he going to be that forever?
Is it bad to want to change so drastically?
His phone vibrates in his pocket, drawing him out of his thoughts. He snags it, reading Kensi's name on the display. Perfect. Now he's going to have to explain to her that he's probably leaving tomorrow and won't be back for at least a month, likely closer to six.
She'll understand it, but she' won't like it any more than he does.
"What's up, Princess?"
"You know how Hetty disappeared yesterday?"
"Yeah," he eases into his seat, frowning. Kensi had told him all about Hetty's strange resignation and the subsequent arrival of a new superior last night over dinner. He knew she was worried and confused. Frankly, so was he. "Did you guys get a hold of her?"
"No, but we found her."
That's something at least. He leans back in his chair. "Is she okay?"
"We don't know. She left the country."
"What?" He sits right back up. "Why?"
"It's a long story, but," she trails off for a second, either trying to figure out how to adequately summarize it or debating what classified info she can actually tell him. "There's a foreign crime family with a personal vendetta against Callen's bloodline and they're targeting him. Hetty went to Prague to try and put an end to it. She's totally off the grid, operating outside the authority of NCIS and with no backup. She's in trouble."
He senses the big news is still looming. "And?"
"And we're going to go help her."
He switches his phone to his other ear and leans forward. "Is this mission sanctioned?"
"No. I turned in my badge."
"You what? Kensi -"
"I have to do this, Deeks," she says, and he knows by her tone there's no chance of stopping her. "Callen, Sam and I are going to fly out in an hour. We can't leave her on her own."
He rakes his fingers through his hair. Shit. Shit shit shit. "And Andrews?"
"He's staying."
Of course he is. Because he's not batshit crazy. "So it's just the three of you walking into some foreign crimelord blood-feud."
"It's better than leaving Hetty there all on her own."
"You can't do this, Kensi."
"I have to. You know that."
He does know it, he just doesn't want to accept it. He leans on his elbows, dropping his head into his hand. He takes a deep breath before lifting his head. "Then you can't do it alone."
"I'm not alone."
"You know what I mean."
"Deeks," she says, voice gentle but insistent, "this isn't your problem. You don't need to help Hetty."
"I know I don't. But I need to help you."
Sam stands in front of a bank of chairs, watching as his partner wears a path in a strip of cheap airport carpet.
"G, that's not helping."
Callen pauses long enough to glare, mouth pressed into a thin line, before continuing his pacing.
Sam sighs internally. This is going to be a long 17 hours.
As the attendant prepares to make her final boarding call, Kensi rounds the corner, duffel bag hiked up on her shoulder.
Deeks is beside her, holding a bag of his own.
Sam raises his eyebrows in surprise. This he did not see coming. "Deeks."
That gets Callen to stop his movements. He pivots toward the new arrivals, face still pinched. "You brought your boyfriend."
Kensi narrows her eyes and opens her mouth, but before she can reply, Sam steps forward, snatching his bag up off the floor and starting them toward the gate.
"Looks to me like she brought help," Sam says, nodding to Deeks in silent thanks.
Deeks nods back. "Heard you guys needed a redshirt."
Kensi glares at Deeks as she digs out her boarding pass. "For the last time: death jokes are not funny."
"You have a terrible sense of humor. You are definitely not an authority." He gestures to Sam. "You thought it was funny, right, Big Guy?"
Sam's brow furrows as he hands the attendant his boarding pass. What the hell does football have to do with anything? "Redshirt, like a freshman?"
Deeks sighs and hands over his ticket. "Never mind."
"Big smile," Deeks instructs, snapping another photo. "This one's going to be for the album."
Kensi obliges, grinning widely as she poses. "What album is this?"
"Honeymoon, yeah?" He puts the camera down for a second to sweep some windblown hair from his face before resuming his surveillance. He needs a haircut so badly. Maybe they have cheap barbers in Romania. He wishes he could ask Siri.
Stupid burner phones.
"We're on a honeymoon in Romania?" Kensi asks, still smiling.
"Romantic Romania." He gestures around them. "Look at this place, it's perfect." At the very least, it's alliteration. "Though Ray wants us to honeymoon in Florida."
Her smile falters for a second before she locks it back into place. "You were talking with Ray about a honeymoon? For us?"
Deeks replays the last thirty seconds of conversation in his head. Oh shit. "No, no, not like - it wasn't..." He resumes snapping pictures as he contemplates possible escape routes. Do they have quicksand in Romania? He needs to find some quicksand.
The next burner phone he buys will definitely be an iPhone.
Two men come out of the beach house and make their way toward the street.
Saved by the thug.
"Here they come," he says, watching as a car stops in front of the house and the two men approach it. The door opens and a woman steps out. "Female visitor."
The two men help her from the car, grasping her shoulders as they press kisses to her cheeks.
"That's a warm welcome," he tells Kensi. "Little kissy-kissy. They've obviously met before."
Kensi crosses over to him. "My turn, honey," she says, holding out her hand. "Wouldn't want the whole album to be pictures of me."
"Sounds like my ideal album, but I can understand you wanting to immortalize this," he says, gesturing up and down his body with his free hand.
Kensi snorts.
He gives her the camera and steps in the direction of the car, turning to face Kensi and smiling brightly. She, however, is not.
"What's the matter?" he asks. "Do you know her?"
She lowers the camera, but not her gaze. "It's Hunter."
Kensi swings around the corner, weapon raised. She's focused and ready, adrenaline coursing through her, humming its way to the tips of her fingers. She registers movement down the hallway and fires off a shot, hitting her mark and sending him to the floor.
Behind her, she hears Deeks do the same.
When she feels Deeks resume his place beside her she presses on. They move together silently, slowly making their way deeper into the house. She kicks away the fallen man's gun as she passes over his body, though she's sure he's already dead.
There's a closed door a few feet down the hall. She stops beside it and tightens her grip on her sidearm. She really misses her SIG.
Wordlessly, Deeks crosses in front of her, his left hand finding the knob as his right maintains a tight grip on his weapon.
Their eyes meet and she nods once.
He takes a beat and then swings open the door. Kensi crosses, gun raised in front of her. There are two men across the room, both aiming at the door, alerted by the sound of it opening.
She gets off one shot and ducks back into the hallway, pressing her back against the wall as the return fire echoes in her ears.
The doorframe explodes as bullets hit, sending wooden splinters flying toward her. She turns her head to guard her face from the debris, waiting for a break in the action before she tries again.
When the return fire stops, Deeks pops over and fires twice. She hears two bodies hit the floor in quick succession.
"Clear." He moves to her. "You okay?"
She nods. "Good."
They step into the room. Deeks killed two guys, but there are four bodies on the floor. There's a fifth on the staircase, pooling blood already making its way down the steps.
"Looks like Sam and Callen already passed through here." Deeks walks over to the bodies and kicks away their guns. "It seems like his 'kill them all' plan is working out nicely."
"Yeah." She steps up beside him, her shoulder brushing his as she draws comfort from his presence. "It does."
Definitely not Romantic Romania.
Deeks swallows his last pretzel and washes it down with his ginger ale. He watches the ocean as they pass over it, the setting sun making it glow a greenish gold.
He feels Kensi resettle into her seat and he grabs the unopened pretzel bag. "I snagged you an extra bag of - heyo. You're not Kensi."
Beside him, Callen smirks. "Your police academy training is serving you well."
It probably kept him from wetting his pants.
"Sam snoring too loud? Or did you just miss my beautiful face?" Deeks guesses before frowning. "You didn't actually come for the pretzels, did you? Because I know better than to give away Kensi's snack food."
"And I know better than to take it."
Deeks drops the bag back onto his tray and turns back, waiting silently for an explanation.
"I came to thank you," Callen says. "It was good to have you there with us. You're pretty damn useful to have around."
Deeks feels the warmth of embarrassment and pride creeping up inside him, but he keeps his features schooled and tamps it down. "Yeah, well, I'll do anything for a few gelatos and a little time on the beach."
"Really, Deeks. You're an asset in the field. You saved us a few times and this isn't the first op I can say that for."
He nods. "You're welcome, Callen."
"This was personal for me and you didn't have a stake in this."
"Yeah," Deeks says without hesitation, "I did. No offense, but your head wasn't screwed on even a little. And Sam had to spend the whole time trying to keep it from popping off. Kensi would have been on her own if I wasn't there." Just the thought of it sets him on edge. He doesn't want to imagine how things would have played out differently. "That mission wouldn't have been complete without a fourth."
Callen's lips tug up at the corner as he pushes out of the chair. "No, Deeks, it wouldn't have been."
Kensi appears when Callen steps into the aisle, smiling in greeting as he squeezes past her and makes his way back to Sam.
She settles into her seat and turns to Deeks, eyebrows furrowed. "What did he want?"
"Your pretzels."
She looks absolutely horrified. "You didn't give them to him, did you?"
"It was a fearsome battle, but I managed to keep him at bay." He tosses her the bag and her eyes light up.
She immediately rips them open and pops almost half the bag into her mouth. With a contented sigh, she rests her head on his shoulder. He can feel her jaw working as she chews.
"My hero," she says, words muffled by a mouthful of food. "Thank you."
He laughs lightly and presses a kiss to the top of her head. "Anything for you."
She finishes the bag and tosses the trash onto his tray, tucking her arm into his as she burrows a little deeper into his side. Her thumb starts rubbing small circles across his arm.
"I love you, Deeks."
His breath catches and he has to remind himself to exhale.
"I love you, too, Kens."
"I'll pick Monty up tomorrow," Deeks says, dropping his bag onto his living room floor.
Kensi drops hers beside his and continues on to the bathroom. She steps inside, leaving the door open behind her.
"Right now, I just want to fall into bed and sleep for ten hours. But first," he says from the other room, his voice growing louder as he makes his way down the hall, "I'm going to grab a quick shower."
He appears in the doorway, a look of surprise on his face. Kensi takes advantage of his attention, slowly stepping out of her underwear, the only piece of clothing that remains.
His surprise quickly morphs into something else. "Or maybe a not-so-quick one."
She grins, closing the distance between them and reaching for his belt. He grabs the back of his shirt and yanks it over his head, tossing it onto the floor.
She reaches up, pressing her mouth to his as she works to remove his pants. When the fly is undone he hooks his thumbs into his boxers and slides everything down, belt buckle jangling as it falls to the floor.
"Shoes," he says against her lips, his hands tangling in her hair.
He breaks contact and bends down to try and release his feet from the clothing bunched around his ankles. Kensi crosses the room, sliding back the shower curtain and turning on the water.
He comes up behind her as she's holding her hand in the spray, waiting for the water to warm, and presses himself against her back.
"I love you," he breathes into her neck. "I love you, I love you, I love you."
The temperature in the room increases, but it's not just from the water.
Kensi grins. "Opened the floodgates, huh?"
He squeezes her hips and guides her into the shower. "You have no idea."