a/n: Some people were a little upset with me about not writing Kensi's response to being proposed to. So here you go, please don't kill me.

And don't think you've convinced me to come back.

She woke up a way she hadn't in a long time. Actually, she could go the rest of her life and never have this feeling again and she would be perfectly content.

There was a while when she thought that she needed this. Every once in a while, she needed to wake up cold and alone just to remember how it felt. When they'd bicker just a little too much and she'd ask if they could take a night off, by morning she'd regret the whole thing. She'd miss waking up to his warmth, his arms, his touch, his kiss. It put things in perspective. She didn't want nights off anymore. She didn't want to be alone, not when her alternative was him. That's why moving in with him was so right.

She reached out subconsciously for him, but he was in fact not in bed with her. She could smell burnt coffee and hear clattering around from their kitchen, and she could feel herself relax, even just slightly. He was just in the kitchen, not miles away from her.

She pulled herself out from their covers. She padded off toward their kitchen to see where her man had run off too.

She stood and watched him for a moment. He looked frantic, nervous. Concerned, she decided to inquire about why she was missing her Saturday morning snuggles. She really liked those.

His admission and reaction to breaking her mug was shocking to him. What she admitted was true. She only held strong feelings for that mug because he gave it to her. It symbolized all he saw in her, as a badass hardcore super hero, but feminine, a woman. His woman. And being his leading lady made her happy.

She could see him being worried about her breaking him in the second year if their working partnership, but not well past a year into their relationship. She hadn't playfully shoved a gently punch to his bicep in ages. Something had him spooked, and she needed to know what it was. She hated seeing this in him. She was so much better at communicating her love to him now. She hated this.

He sucked in a deep breath, and she noted the confliction he seemed to be faced with. His eyes contorted. But a faint grin fell over his lips- and a single knee hit the floor.

She'd thought about him proposing to her before. Especially on nights off, her mind had time to wander and think.

She thought that when Deeks finally popped the question, her mind would race back to a time when she was younger and had less physical scars, when a young Jack Simon had one knee against the ground. She cried when she thought of that. She wouldn't tell Deeks that. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd cried in front of him, and that wouldn't change if she had her choice.

She cried because she feared that when Deeks got down on one knee, she'd think of Jack. She was terrified that she'd ruin the happiest part of her life with one of the darkest parts of her past.

She feared it. She feared it, knowing there was no way to know what would race through her the moment it happened.

She wanted to marry him. She didn't really know what it would mean to be a wife, but she didn't care. If she could be Marty Deeks' wife, it would be worth it. It would be a culmination of everything they'd fought for to be together. She was Badass Blye as he coined, but she didn't feel very badass when she would curl up in a ball on her couch without him and fear how she might react. Once they moved in together, her time alone decreased. She thought about it less, but it was still heavy on her heart when she thought about the life they could lead together.

But in reality, when Marty Deeks went down on one knee the morning he broke her coffee mug, those fears were long gone. His confessions of unchanging and undying love her injected passion into her veins; she bent down and pressed her lips hard against his, nodding as they broke apart. She willed her voiced to say yes, possibly two or three times, and he slipped the ring on her left hand. She couldn't even break her face away from his long enough to study the ring in all its beauty for what it was worth.

And Jack Simon? The furthest thing from her mind.