"Why are you looking at me like that?"
Kensi did her best to hide her true feelings and lied to her partner very easily. "I really don't like that shirt on you." It was a big fat lie. She loved his new shirt, a fitted black polo, and had been staring at him all day because of it. "In fact, the nineties called a few minutes ago, they said they want it back."
He gave her a cocky grin, looking directly in her eyes. "Really? You sure about that?"
She met his gaze, maintaining her cover as a completely not turned on at the moment woman. "Positive. I think it would look better in a dumpster." Or on her floor. "You're really familiar with dumpsters, right?"
Deeks grunted, accepting defeat in this particular verbal sparring match. When they parted ways at the end of the day, Kensi breathed a sigh of relief. Obviously it had been a very long time since she had been intimate with a man if she was drooling over Deeks. She shuddered at the thought and drove home, blasting her music at illegal sound levels to try to pound the desire out of her body.
The shirt mysteriously disappeared for two years, until his first day back at work after his torture. Desperate to get out of his god-awful hipster clothes, Deeks opened her spare tire compartment and pulled out a bag of clothes for both of them. They changed quickly in the bathroom of a gas station nearby, and Kensi nearly cried when she saw the shirt he was wearing; it was the black polo shirt that she told him she hated, and he in turn relegated to a last-ditch backup shirt. Because he thought she hated it.
Composing herself, Kensi stood tall and faced her feelings instead of burying them. "Nice shirt."
Deeks smiled knowingly. "Thanks."