Marty Deeks sat down on the end of his bed, a business card that wore signs of being held multiple times in one hand and his cell in the other. He'd reached this point half a dozen times before, but been interrupted, or chickened out, every time.

Normally, he wasn't shy about asking a woman out, but Kensi Blye did something different to him. She was blunt, fearless, funny, and absolutely gorgeous.

He smiled, remembering his initial shock, followed by amusement and finally admiration when she grilled him about calling. Even though her tone had been joking when she called him out, Deeks had a feeling he wouldn't get another chance if he waited too much longer. Brushing his bangs from his eyes, Deeks thumbed in the number on the card.

Kensi got home, kicking off her shoes on the way and leaving a trail of clothes on her way to her bedroom. There, she rooted around in the pile of clothes next to her bed until she found a reasonably clean shirt and tugged that on. After that, she collected a glass of water, a beer, and the pint of strawberry cheesecake ice cream from the kitchen, settling herself in front of the TV.

It had been an incredibly long, tiring, not to mention frustrating week. They'd finally pinned down the person stealing confidential information from multiple companies, as well as linked him to their two cases of arson. Kensi took his arrest personally after nearly burning to death.

Prying the lid off the tub of ice cream, Kensi settled in for a night of burgeoning supermodels and delicious carbs.

Her phone rang two and a half episodes on, and she picked up without looking.

"Nell, you had better not be interrupting my Tyra Banks time with another case."

"Hi, uh, it's Deeks actually."

Kensi's eyes widened, words for escaping her for a second.

"You know, from LA fire department," he added, like Kensi could forget the man who had literally carried her out of a burning building in his strong arms, like something out of a romance novel. "Please tell me this is the right number."

"Yes, it is," Kensi said quickly. "Sorry, I thought you were a coworker."

Despite her teasing and pushing, she truly hadn't expected him to call at this point. As though he could see her across the phone, she shoved the half-eaten carton of ice cream under the coffee table, and straightened her stained t-shirt.

"Thank god. That saves me the trouble of choosing a wrong number story." He cleared his throat, and something in the background rustled. Kensi immediately pictured him laying down in bed, shifting among the covers.

Ok, get a grip, Kensi, she told herself before her imagination turned more inappropriate.

There was an extended pause, and even with the distance between them, she felt the tension grow.

"So, I believe you owe me a date," Deeks said softly, the slight drawl sending unexpected warmth to Kensi's cheeks.

"Um, if anyone owes a date, it's you," Kensi objected instinctively.

"I believe I saved your life, Agent Blye."

"And I had to wait over a week for you to call me."

Deeks chuckled, a throaty sound that Kensi was already a big fan of. "You make an excellent point. Alright, so Agent Blye, would you go out on a date with me next Saturday? World catastrophes notwithstanding."

"Yes," Kensi agreed without hesitation, and for once she didn't even care. "And just for future reference, I like sushi, Mexican, and Korean food," she added.

"Noted," Deeks responded with a soft chuckled. "Alright, I'll text you with the details." He paused a beat. "I'll let you get back to your important Top Model," he teased.

Al Kensi got out with was a gasp of protest before Deeks signed off with a laugh filled goodbye.

A/N: Thanks for everyone who has expressed their enthusiasm for this story. I hope this less action filled chapter is still enjoyable.