Her lips graze the purple flesh of his rib, and a sound she doesn't recognize slips out of his lips.
Its hot, its sexy, but it's also a yelp of pain, a cry out for her to stop.
"I'm sorry," she whispers quietly. She's just really glad it was just a bruise. She's having trouble processing the idea that it could have been a hell of a lot worse. She doesn't want to think about the time he was shot, the time he was tortured, the times Kensi almost lost her Deeks.
"Don't you ever, ever, apologize for kissing me," he says slowly.
"I don't want to make it worse," she sighs. "Is there anything I can get you?"
"It's just a bruise, Kens. If I need something, I can go get it."
She shakes her head. "Maybe you can, but you don't have to. That's what I'm for."
"Kensi…"
"No, Deeks. If it were me who got punched in the ribs, you'd have carried me to bed, force fed me the painkillers I'm too stubborn to take, put in Titanic, and brought me ice cream." She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself for her next sentence. "Just let me take care of you too."
He thinks about it for a moment… she wants to be there for him. Why the hell would he not let her?
"Well, I um, I could maybe go for some dinner."
She smiles. "I ordered pizza ten minutes ago, I'll go get beer when it gets here."
She gracefully shifts in bed, pushing up avoiding the place of his injury. She places her lips to the hard line of his jaw, tracing it to the corner of his lips. His eyes close, as he takes a deep breath in. "Damn it Kens."
She just smiles, her lips against his cheek. "Yes, Marty Deeks?"
"There's one more thing I need."
She pulls away, but her hands hold his head in place, her fingers curled in his hair. Her eyes answer him quickly. Anything.
A single finger lands on her chin and pulls it up toward his lips. He bites her bottom lip gently, but she resists, more focused on keeping their lips together. When they part, he breathlessly answers with his other request.
"Never stop kissing me."