A/N: Takes place post Deeks' injuries in 10x01, "To Live and Die in Mexico". Densimber Day 2.

Deeks grabbed a glass from the dishwasher, filing it with water. He was a little embarrassed at how much effort the simple action took. Everything exhausted him right now, but he didn't feel dizzy or completely nauseas for the first time in days, so he planned to take advantage of the reprieve for however long it lasted.

Slowly, he worked his way through the rest of the dishes, lining everything up on the counter first. After relying on Kensi for everything the last few weeks, it felt good to finally do something.

Kensi walked in just as he slid the last glass into a cabinet.

"Baby, you're supposed to be resting," she protested.

"I'm fine. A few dishes aren't going to kill me," he said, continuing to sort out knives and forks.

"You don't have to. I can take care of the dishes, the laundry, and whatever else needs to be cleaned." She joined him at the counter and pushed the silverware to the side. "Please, go sit down and I'll get you some lunch."

"Kens, you've been waiting on me hand and foot. You have to be tired. I mean, you barely even had a chance to recover yourself," Deeks argued, ignoring how heavily he had to lean on the counter to not visibly shake.

"Mine weren't as bad as yours. C'mon, you don't want to set yourself back," Kensi insisted.

All the frustration of the past weeks spilled over, and he snapped. "Oh, that's ironic coming from you. I seem to remember you falling and gashing your leg in because you tried to walk with half your body paralyzed," he bit out. He knew it was cruel, but he threw in one last jab. "But sure, I'm the one pushing it."

Kensi's mouth opened slightly, her eyebrows narrowed in obvious hurt and shock. In the next moment, her face blanked, the only obvious emotion in the flashing of her eyes.

"Fine." Her voice shook ever so slightly. "Do it yourself then."

Pushing past him, she stalked out of the kitchen, and he heard the back door slam a few seconds later.

"Damn it," Deeks hissed, leaning over the counter. "What is wrong with you, Marty?" As quickly as it hand come, his anger disappeared, replaced by remorse and disgust with himself. His head hung low between his shoulders as he replayed the hurt on Kensi's face.

He didn't know if Kensi would even want to hear an apology from him, but he had to try. He found Kensi in the backyard, curled up on the love seat. Deeks walked around to face her, not taking a seat; he hadn't earned that yet.

"Kens." She lifted her head from her knees, and the sadness in her eyes made his chest squeeze.

"I'm sorry," he murmured hoarsely. "I shouldn't have said that."

"Why did you?" Kensi asked.

"I was…frustrated with how long my recovery is taking and now useless I feel, but that's, uh, that's no excuse. I—"

"I forgive you," Kensi cut him off.

"What?"

She shrugged, her eye softening with understanding. "I wasn't the most patient or wonderful to be around after my coma. In fact, I was pretty awful to you." She patted the spot beside her, waiting until he sat next to her to scoot closer. "Sometimes we say and do things we don't really mean."

"I do appreciate everything you're doing for me and I have no excuse for what I said," he said, pulling Kensi against his side. "And I promise I won't say anything like that again."

"I know you won't," Kensi murmured, resting her head on his.

A/N: And we have the first angst of the season! Deeks may be a touch OOC here, but pain and injuries, particularly TBIs can bring out unexpected responses.