A/N: I took the idea of Deeks' childhood, and completely flipped it on its head. As such, domestic violence is a common theme for this story.

For some reason when it came to me, it made sense to have Kensi and Deeks as cops. I'm not sure why, that's just what happened and I followed the muse.

Kensi walks into the West Los Angeles police station, two cups of coffee in hand, and her head craned, on the lookout for her partner.

When she'd first met Marty Deeks, she can't deny she'd been surprised. From his long (by LAPD standards) carefree blonde curls—so unlike the plethora of buzz cuts and fades common among her fellow cops—to the t-shirt and shorts he'd worn at the time, he looked more suited for the undercover unit than street patrols.

Still, Kensi had kept her reservations to herself; four years with LAPD had taught her people were not always what they seemed. Which had become immediately clear when Deeks served her with a disarming smile and a compliment on her previous work. What really settled the deal was the day he talked an angry 17-year-old down from a hostage situation with zero casualties.

That was 15 months ago, making it the longest time she's kept any partner. The rest had all moved onto other positions, divisions, or even professions when the work proved too stressful.

Kensi smiles now as she spots Deeks seated on the edge of Detective Jones' desk. Jones is laughing continuously as Deeks tell some story, arms moving expansively as he speaks.

When he sees Kensi standing in the doorway, he taps Jones' shoulder and she hears him say, "I'll catch you later, Nell. Hope the rehearsal goes well."

"Hey partner," Deeks greets her, hair already slicked back to meet the compromise the administration had come up with. "Is that for me?" He gestures to the untouched coffee cup, sighing gratefully when Kensi hands it over.

"Vanilla latte, just like you like it."

He pops the top, taking a big sniff. "Best partner ever."

"Yes, I am," Kensi agrees as he takes his first sip. Slowly, they begin walking towards the conference room for morning announcements. "So, did you get an invite to Nell Jones' wedding? If she wasn't madly in love with her fiancé, I'm 95% sure she'd ask you out."

"Well, it's nice to be loved," Deeks says diplomatically, though the slight lift of his upper lip tells her he appreciates the compliment. "Nah, even if she had, Sylvia's got a work thing on Saturday."

"I swear your girlfriend works more than we do. Which is saying something since we work our butts off."

"What can I say? She's a really goodbaker."

"I don't know how you don't eat everything she makes. If I was dating a guy who could bake, we would have cake every night," she says, spinning around suddenly in excitement so she's walking backwards and facing Deeks. "Ooh, can you bring in more of those apple fritters? Those were amazing!"

"I'll see what I can do," he answers with a chuckle. Kensi only half listens to his reply, distracted by the dark red-brown mark on the left side of his face she can see from her new position.

"What happened to you?" she asks. Kensi grasps his chin before he can respond, turning his face to get a better look at the gash along his upper cheekbone. She's not sure how she missed it before because it's pretty deep and only recently scabbed over.

"Oh yeah, I ran into the corner of the shelf in the bathroom this morning. Guess I was still half-asleep." He shrugs off her concern, though he can't hide a wince when she briefly presses on the scab. "Hey! I'll be fine if you stop trying to break it open again."

"Sorry," Kensi apologizes, raising both hands. "You sure that doesn't need stitches or a bandage or something?"

"Aw, Kensi cares about me." His sing-song voice is designed to set her off and she goes with it, elbowing him sharply in the ribs.

"Shut up."

Deeks yelps, just as she expects rubbing his side like she'd landed a serious punch, but his grin says otherwise.

They take seats towards the back of the room, conversing quietly as everyone else filters in.

"Hey, Sam from robbery-homicide is getting some people together to go to the "Squid and Dagger" tonight," Kensi tells him. "If we get out on time, I was planning to go. You want to come?"

Deeks frowns slightly, which she didn't expect. He usually thrives in social settings, his natural charisma drawing out even the most reserved people. It's a kind of super power as far as Kensi's concerned.

"Oh come on, you're not really gonna make me do karaoke or go up against Hanna in pool all by myself, are you? I need my buffer."

"I don't know, I've been getting in pretty late the last few weeks," Deeks hedges, but she can tell his heart isn't really in it, so she pushes a little harder.

"Please, please. Please. For your favorite partner ever." She bats her eyes, fully aware of how ridiculous she looks and sounds. It gets a toothy, genuine grin out of Deeks, so she doesn't really care.

"Fine. I'll go. But I can't stay too long." Deeks shakes his head at her antics, though he should be used to them by now. He's equally ridiculous at times when he wants to get a certain response from a suspect. Or when she's having a particularly rotten day.

"Perfect. I'll text Sam."

Deeks lets himself into the apartment as quietly as possible. Between catching up with everyone and three games of pool (detectives against patrol), he'd stayed out later than he'd meant to. And right now, he really doesn't feel like dealing with a fight.

He sets his keys and phone on the table by the door, heading into the kitchen for a glass of water. There're pictures of him and a dark haired woman smiling on the beach, by a giant P, in front a Christmas tree. On the window sill by the sink, there's a miniature rose plant, Sylvia's favorite. A few dishes dry in the rack. It looks homey.

He braces his arms on the sink, his head low between his shoulders. For just a few minutes, he doesn't have to pretend. It used to be so easy. Cheering people up, being the shoulder to lean on, he used to thrive on it. Isn't really sure when it became a chore. Or when the smiles started taking so much effort.

But he comes home every day, tired to his very soul. Only being here rarely gives him relief either. Every minute is spent dreading the next explosion, or working to keep the peace.

With a sigh that seems to be pulled from his very depths, Deeks rinses the glass out, sets it to the side, and heads for the bedroom.

Deeks is late. It's Monday morning, their first shift of the week, and he's not in the break room, hanging out with the detectives, or in any of his other usual spots.

Kensi fires off the latest of five texts under the table as she side eyes the clock at the front of the room. He has exactly two minutes before roll call starts. Their Captain, Owen Granger, has come to appreciate Deeks' skills and unique approach to their work, but he does not take well to tardiness.

KB: Partner, where the hell are you? You're gonna miss roll call.

Finally, three dots appear at the bottom of the screen. They appear and disappear four different times before she gets a message.

MD: Hey, I'm sick. Sorry I didn't let you know.

Despite her reliefs at finally getting a response out of him, Kensi's anxiety ratchets up several levels. Deeks does not call in sick. She's seen him work through a recently dislocated shoulder after a rough fight until he was forced to go home and try to charm his doctor to sign off an early return from a minor bullet wound.

KB: No problem. Are you ok?

MD: Yeah, just a nasty stomach thing. I don't think anyone wants me heaving over the dead bodies.

The mental image makes Kensi cringe and she silently agrees.

KB: Definitely not. Let me know if you need anything.

MD: Thanks, partner.

Since Kensi's flying solo today, Captain Granger loans her out to Sergeant G. Callen, who had been one of her training officers. He's quieter than Deeks, but has his own streak of mischief that meshed with her own

"So, what's up with your ball and chain?" Callen asks as they start their patrol. He nods at her phone in her hand, Deeks contact image visible, with a wry smile.

She'd sent him a series of gifs and ridiculous memes, intended to distract him through the worst of the nastiness. Some of them are beyond stupid, but she hopes it gets a smile out of Deeks.

"He's down with the stomach flu," she replies succinctly, tucking her phone into her side pocket.

"Ugh, yeah I heard that was going around." Callen makes a face. "Tell him thank you for not infecting the rest of us."

"I'll let him know."

A comfortable silence falls between them as they scan for trouble.

"Hey, is he doing ok? Deeks," Callen says so abruptly that Kensi just chuckles.

"You mean aside from probably throwing up everything from the last week? I think so. Why?"

"Nothing. I shouldn't have said anything." Kensi glares at him until he relents. "Last couple times I talked to him, he seemed a little…subdued? I don't know, he was chatty, but it was almost forced. And then at the bar last week, he was distracted. Kept checking his phone."

It's the most she's probably ever heard Callen say at once outside of instructions during training. She blinks at him a few times, in reaction to the small monologue as well as his observations of Deeks.

She racks her brain, but she can't say that she's noticed anything in particular. Deeks has seemed…like Deeks.

"No, I don't think—I mean, he hasn't told me about anything else," Kensi says finally, hearing how faint her voice sounds. Callen nods, accepting her answer as fact.

She's Deeks' partner after all.

"I'm probably just reading into things. Force of habit," he says, dismissing the topic.

A call comes in for a burglary before Kensi can formulate a response. As Callen speeds off towards the address they're given, she can't get his question out of her head.

In total, Deeks is out for two days. Like always, she forgets how used she's gotten to him. No one else quite understands her particular brand of humor, or at least puts up with it, like he does. No one, not matter how experienced, can anticipate her thoughts and actions as well.

There's also Callen's question still lingering in the back of her mind.

So when she sees Deeks stroll into the building, she doesn't hesitate to rush over and give him a hug. He accepts it with a pleased grin, giving her an extra tight squeeze.

Of course, she follows it up with a punch to his shoulder once she pulls back.

"Geez!" Deeks yelps. "Is that any way to treat a recently ill man?"

Kensi gives him a once over, studying him for signs of lingering sickness…and anything else. He looks just the same as ever, hair a little unruly, skin tan and healthy, smile in place.

"That's for not responding to my texts," she explains, then points to his right eye. "What happened there?"

"Oh, yeah, I fell off my skateboard Sunday. I think I must have been getting sick already cause my balance was off."

"Oh right, because the great Marty Deeks would never fall off his skateboard otherwise," Kensi drawls, drawing a hiss of laughter from him.

"And if anyone says otherwise, it's slander." He nudges her shoulder, revealing a paper bag she'd missed up until now. "Seriously though, thanks for keeping my entertained the last couple days. It meant a lot."

"Are those doughnuts from my favorite bakery? The one that sells out by 10 every morning," Kensi gasps.

"Yes, ma'am. Nothing but the best for Kensalina," he replies, handing the bag over to Kensi.

She tears it open, not even caring that Deeks is gently laughing at her eagerness, and pulls out a gorgeous Boston cream. After her first bite, she offers Deeks one of the other two options, but he shakes his head.

"I'm good." They start to make their way through the building, Deeks getting stopped for well-wishes and greetings along the way. "So, what did I miss?"

"Uh, we had a guy high on something who thought he was a badger, a fight over a really poor quality wig, and Callen's dating someone new." She purposely leaves out the more gruesome crimes.

"You guys have all the fun while I'm gone," he laments as they continue into the break room for coffee. Kensi continues filling Deeks in on everything that's occurred since their last shift together while they finish their donuts.

Deeks brushes crumbs off his hands, taking his phone out of his pocket when it buzzes while they head towards the meeting room. "So, who's Callen dating? Is it Baker from Counter-Terrorism?"

"He won't tell me, but I do know she's not LAPD." Kensi nods significantly and Deeks chuckles, eyes flicking up from his phone briefly.

"Ooh, intriguing! I wonder if we could threaten it out of him with—" he breaks off, grin dropping away in an instant, and stops in the hallway.

"Deeks, is everything ok?" she asks, grasping his shoulder. He jerks at her touch, inhaling sharply.

"Uh yeah, just, um. I'm just having some issues with planning Sylvia's birthday." He chuckles faintly. "It's been kind of a hassle."

"I didn't know it was her birthday. You should have told me and we would have planned a dinner or something for her." West Los Angeles PD will take any excuse to celebrate.

"That's really sweet, but Sylv doesn't really crowds," Deeks reminds her. "More of an introvert and quiet person."

Kensi can't recall him ever mentioning that before, but Sylvia has turned down every LAPD outing since Deeks started. Shrugging, Kensi knocks Deeks' shoulder to get him walking again.

"Ok, but if you need any help, I'm always here. Though I'm sure she'll love whatever you come up with."

"Yeah." Deeks smiles, brushing off the last of whatever's bothering him.

Roll call goes as usual and they start their patrol off with a man trying to steal a cartload of women's formal wear from a secondhand store, followed by an unfounded noise complaint.

"I'm just saying, maybe if Snape had treated Harry a little better from the start, he would have seen a different side to him," Deeks argues, continuing an ongoing argument when there's a short lull in calls.

"I don't excuse his actions, but I do understand Snape's point of view," Kensi counters. "He was bullied by Harry's dad mercilessly."

"Yes, but Harry has no idea about any of that when—" he breaks off instantly as their radio crackles with static.

"West LA units, 273 D reported at residential home. PR states shouting, objects being thrown, and juvenile involvement. Multiple units requested."

Deeks has the vehicle turned around before dispatch has even finished reading off the address while Kensi reports they're en route.

They make it to the residence first, a small gray home sandwiched between two equally small houses tiny patches for front lawns. A group of four neighbors are gathered on the narrow sidewalk out front, talking among themselves. They stop when Kensi and Deeks exit their vehicle.

The shouting is audible even at this distance, random words in an angry male making it through. An elderly woman in a housecoat and slippers hurries over to them, her face etched with concern and urgency.

"He's been at it for half an hour now," she tells them, pointing back towards the house. "Mark's his name. He has a little boy, Taylor, and this isn't the first time I've heard him shouting and breaking things."

"Have you heard any gunshots?" Deeks asks.

"No, I don't think so."

"Thank you, Ma'am," Kensi intercedes. "We appreciate the information, but now I need you to stay back for everyone's safety. Ok?"

The woman nods, drawing her coat tighter around her body, and reluctantly returns to the rest of her group.

"Alright, you ready?" Deeks settles his hand on his serious weapon and Kensi's eyes travel between it and him quickly.

"What? No, we're supposed to wait for backup." Even so, she jogs after him as he ignores her, walking straight up to the front door. "Deeks!"

"Hey, there's a kid in there. I'm not going to make him fend for himself another minute. Are you?" he says, and his expression doesn't leave room for argument.

"Ok," Kensi agrees reluctantly, taking up position behind Deeks as he raises his fist to pound on the door.