A/N: Just a little ficlet to continue the final scene of "Citadel".
"Marty, will you run out and get me a loaf of French bread for me?" Roberta requested, busy stirring pots and checking the foil rimmed baking dish in the oven. They'd all had a chance to grab a drink and settle in a bit.
Roberta had already made several vaguely inappropriate comments that had Kensi snorting into her wine. The first couple made Deeks groan quietly, but when he saw Kensi's response, he seemed to realize that she wasn't about to storm out.
"Uh, sure, mama. I'll be back soon," Deeks answered. As he grabbed his keys again, he shot Kensi a questioning look (Are you ok with me leaving you alone here?) Kensi offered him a reassuring smile. She could handle 15 minutes with his mom.
She still felt a little nervous, but meeting Deeks' mom, especially as a complete surprise, had been far less awkward and painful that she would have anticipated. Maybe it helped that she didn't have a chance to build the moment up in her head.
"Thanks, kiddo!"
"No problem. Just don't tell any embarrassing stories while I'm gone," Deeks called over his shoulder.
"Yeah, no promises there!" Roberta called back with a chuckle. She shook her head, almost speaking to herself. "How I raised such a little prude I'll never know."
Kensi doubted anyone had ever described Deeks that way before.
She watched Roberta bustle around the kitchen, managing multiple dishes at once. Suddenly, a hint of guilt and self-consciousness running through her as she remembered her knee-jerk response to Roberta's question about cooking.
"You know, when I said I didn't like cooking, I wasn't thinking. I'd be happy to help," Kensi said, unable to stop a nervous laugh. Deeks would call it a cackle. "Honestly, it probably wouldn't hurt to learn a few things."
"What are you talking about? I appreciate the honesty." Roberta made a face, pausing to look up from the open oven.
"Well, I just want you to know that I care about Deeks. Marty. I don't want to give the impression I'm taking advantage of him or anything."
Roberta stood, staring at Kensi for a full, very uncomfortable, ten seconds. Then she pulled off her oven mitts, tossing them to the side.
"The moment I saw you, I knew you cared about my son. Hell, I knew it the first time he mentioned you," Roberta told her. "Never even crossed my mind to think you weren't treating him right."
"Really?" Kensi asked uncertainly.
"Absolutely." Her face took on a slowly melancholy look. "He hasn't always had a lot of happiness in his life. It's good to know he has you now."
Kensi didn't know what to say to that, and Roberta seemed to realize it. She squeezed both Kensi's shoulders, her smile reassuring.
"Now, I gotta come up with a story to tell you before Martin gets back," Roberta said, effectively switching the subject.