Kensi keeps her promise and calls much sooner this time.
She's so hyped from her date that she stays up Friday night looking into possible date venues. By two in the morning she has found something promising and part of her wonders if she should text him now. She decides she doesn't want to come off as crazy after less than a week of knowing him, so she holds off until morning. Better to dole out the crazy in small doses and lull him into a false sense of security.
She wakes the next morning and putters around her house until noon. She has arbitrarily decided that noon is the most appropriate time to call. The clock reaches twelve, and then she waits for one extra minute just because.
He answers quickly when she calls.
"Hi, Kensi."
"Marty," she greets easily.
"What can I do for you on this fine Saturday morning?"
"It's not morning anymore," she says quickly.
There is a pause and then he chuckles. "Okay, what can I do for you two minutes into this lovely Saturday afternoon?"
She hesitates for a moment, her determination temporarily interrupted.
"Kensi?"
"Uh, yeah… So, I looked into third date options."
She hears him exhale. "And?"
"And there is a music festival at a park near downtown…"
"Sounds fun," he says.
"…Only problem is that tonight is the last night of the festival."
He exhales again. "Doesn't sound like a problem to me."
She feels her heart hitch at his acceptance, and feels her confidence swell. "Me neither, I guess."
"So, what time are you picking me up?"
"Oh, I'm picking you up, am I?" She teases.
"It's your date," he reminds.
Kensi likes that he's comfortable having her pick him up. There's no way she can imagine the other lawyers she has met being okay with the girl doing the date planning and the driving.
"I can drive," he comments when she is silent too long. "It's really not a problem. I was just-"
"No, I'll drive," she cuts in. "I want to."
They quickly agree on a time and he shares his address.
00
The date is half disaster and half amazing.
Apparently, everyone in the city has decided to attend the music festival. Parking is a nightmare. Kensi drives up and down streets, and past full-lots, for half an hour before turning around. They end up in a parking lot almost a mile from the festival.
Thankfully, Marty is a good sport and doesn't seem put off by the need to walk so far. She walks comfortable beside him for the first block, remembering how nice it was the night before when he took her hand. She spends the second block trying to decide if she should take the initiative. By the third block, she reaches out and snags his hand.
He accepts the contact easily and shoots her a smile. "I was wondering how long it was going to take you to do that."
She huffs. "Maybe I was waiting for you to do it."
"Now, that is another cliché," he jokes. "Waiting for the guy to take the step. I thought this was your date?"
She knows he's got her there. She huffs again, but squeezes his hand.
With the extended parking time and the walk, they had expected to arrive after the start of the music. Technical issues, though, have delayed the start time. A local band is set up on the stage, but a series of people are swarming around, checking cables and equipment.
An hour after the expected start time, a high-pitched screeching tone fills the area from a speaker, only to cut off suddenly with a choking boom.
Deeks makes a face. "Well, that can't be good."
Kensi laughs. "No, it can't." She tilts her head towards the series of food trucks set up opposite the stage. "I think this is a perfect time for dinner."
They inspect each food truck before picking one with fancy fish tacos and burgers.
Marty pulls out his wallet, but she waves her hand at him and jokingly shoves away his wallet.
"My date," she reminds, pulling her wallet from the small shoulder bag she had chosen for the evening. She pulls out a twenty and waves it. "I pay."
The cashier of the food truck looks confused, but Deeks smiles and shrugs as he returns his wallet. "You heard the lady."
After Kensi has paid and they are both walking away with their meals, he brushes his shoulder against hers. "Thank you."
She smiles back at him. "You can be in charge of the next date again."
He returns her smile, his blue eyes sparkling despite the low light.
Kensi is not one for second dates, or any subsequent number. But she likes knowing there's going to be a fourth date with this strange lawyer.
By the time they finish their meals, the music still hasn't started and half the crowd has disappeared.
They return to the food trucks in search of drinks.
Marty doesn't remove his wallet, but offers to pay. She thanks him, but declines.
She takes exactly one sip of her beer when a couple kids race through the crowd. One, probably about seven, runs right into her. Her bottle is tossed from her hands, and her shirt takes the brunt of the spray of beer.
The kid yells 'sorry' and races off after his friend.
Kensi makes a face as she brushes her fingers along her wet shirt. She is immediately glad she chose a dark red tee shirt, and not something lighter.
Marty hands her a few napkins and then ducks down to retrieve the fallen bottle. "I'll be right back."
He returns only moments later with a bottle of water and a handful of napkins.
"Thank you," she says gratefully. She uses the bottle to rinse her shirt as best she can and then dabs at herself with the napkins.
"Do you want to go?" He asks.
She doesn't. She's having a great time with him. And also, she is a little competitive, and this is supposed to be her date. It's going to be awesome. "No, I'm good to stay," she tells him. "Unless you want to go?" At nearly two hours late, she's not sure the music will ever actually start.
He smiles that warm smile again. "I want to stay."
She smiles back at him. "Good."
She buys another beer and then they find a spot out of the way and sit under a tree. They talk and tell stories as they get to know each other better. It's very quaint and a little cliché, but she has a great time. He's nice and easy going, and so funny. Her abs actually ache from laughing so much.
"I can't believe you have a dog," she says. "What does he look like?"
"Kind of brownish-blond. Scruffy terrier hair, but large."
"Scruffy like his dad?" She jokes.
He smiles in good nature, but it doesn't meet his eyes. He takes in her expression for an extended moment before his smile becomes real. "The Deeks men are very good looking, very distinguished," he jokes. He pulls out his phone, scrolls through it for a moment, and then hands it to her.
Kensi stares down at the picture of the dog. "He's adorable!"
"We're also adorable, apparently," he adds.
She hands him back his phone. "Monty," she repeats the name he had provided.
"Monty," he confirms.
"Monty and Marty."
He shrugs. "He came with the name. So did I, come to think of it."
She laughs at his joke. "What's he like?"
"He's…great."
She raises an eyebrow. "You don't sound so sure."
"He's great," he repeats. "He's just a little…special. I adopted him from a service dog rescue. He's a former police dog. Did some bomb sniffing and stuff. The police vet diagnosed him with an anxiety condition. I guess dogs absorb stress the same way people do."
"Poor guy."
"He's not aggressive at all," he explains. "He just likes certain things to be a certain way to stay calm."
"Like what?"
He clearly hesitates for a moment. "NPR."
She huffs a laugh, thinking for a moment that he is joking. Then she realizes he is serious. "NPR… Like the radio station, NPR?"
"That's what the R stands for," he says with a nod.
"That cannot be true."
He laughs. "I have literally tried every other station available. He likes his NPR and only NPR."
"I will have to meet this NPR-loving former police dog. He sounds like quite a catch."
"I'm sure he'd love to meet you," he says. "He has good taste."
Kensi smiles and ducks her head for a moment, feeling her cheeks heat. She never blushes. But he has some sort of hold over her. He straddles the line of genuine and flirty like a tight rope walker. She really likes him. She peaks up at him, and he's smiling back at her. She thinks maybe he really likes her, too.
They move on to less intense discussion, and then, at exactly three hours late, the music finally starts.
They make their way closer to the stage. The band is good and plays a wide selection of pieces.
She and Marty start by standing close to each other, but as the crowd pushes forward and gets closer together, they find themselves letting go of their inhibitions and dancing together.
00
It's midnight when they make their way back to her car.
"My feet are killing me," she complains. She had chosen style over comfort, which was a poor choice for walking a mile to the festival, waiting for hours, dancing for hours, and then walking another mile back to the car.
"Mine, too," he echoes. "But it was totally worth it."
She beams. "You liked my date?"
"Very much."
"Good. Me, too. Despite, you know, having to park in the middle of nowhere, the music starting three hours late and the fact that I smell like stale beer."
He laughs. "You don't smell that bad."
She swipes jokingly at him. "You're supposed to tell me I don't smell bad at all."
He smirks. "That would be a lie."
She makes a face and runs a hand over her dry, but still somewhat beer infused, shirt. "It could be worse, I guess," she offers as she gets into the driver's seat.
"I like that you're easy going about these things," he comments as he settles into the passenger seat beside her.
She shoots him a smile. "I like that you're okay with me driving and paying."
"I like you," he offers boldly.
She feels her heart flutter. "I like you, too."
The drive back to his house is relatively quick this time of night. She pulls up in front of his small-but-nice house sooner than she wants.
"Should I walk you to the door to complete my date?" She asks.
He smiles. "That would be nice."
His house is a little bigger than it looked from the street. From the front yard, she can see it's one and a half floors. The outside is well kept, and she expects the inside will be the same.
They reach the porch and he turns towards her. She doesn't waste any time in standing up on her tip toes and pressing her lips to his. He kissed her back.
"Do you want to come in and meet Monty?" He asks.
She cocks her head, leaning back in his arms, trusting him to hold her. "Is this another cliché? Equivalent to inviting me in for coffee? It is the third date, after all."
He smiles at her. "This can be anything you want it to be."
She leans back in for another kiss. "I like the cliché."
He pecks her lips and then turns to unlock the door. Monty greets them with happy chuffs and a wagging tail.
After letting the dog out, Marty gives her a tour of his house.
The tour ends in his bedroom. She doesn't leave until the next morning.