A/N: When trying to think of a way to describe one of Deeks/Eric's expression turns into high angst and whump. Set post Ascension.
It's just after nine when they decide to call it a night. Deeks has been alternating between fidgeting and nodding off for the last two hours, but Kensi hadn't wanted to call him on it. He already seems reluctant bring any attention to his condition, and she knows she would hate it if she were in his position. So, she'd just kept an eye on him throughout the night instead.
"Well, Michelle is going to kill me if I don't get going," Sam announces, checking his phone.
"Yeah, I'm not sure that going out for drinks after you got electrocuted and she almost got shot was the best idea," Callen comments with a smirk.
Deeks just slides out of his chair, looking greatly relieved. He's been quiet most of the time, which Kensi had put down to discomfort. He follows them out without a word, not joining in on Sam and Callen's continued bantering. As they reach the exit, he wobbles, and Kensi reaches out, ready to catch him, but he finds his balance after a second.
Belatedly, Kensi thinks he should probably still be in the hospital. Or at home in bed. Definitely not a few hours removed from running upstairs and engaging in gun fire.
It's only once they're in the parking lot that it occurs to her Kensi that Deeks couldn't have left even if he wanted to since he can't drive while on pain medication. Guilt pools in her stomach at the thought of him sitting there in misery while they drank beer.
"Hey, I'll take you home," she murmurs, before he has to ask or god forbid, try to order a cab.
"Thanks."
Sam comes over and claps him on the back, tugging him into a sideways hug. She doesn't miss Deeks' eyebrows furrowing in pain or the way he doesn't make eye contact with any of them.
"Hang in there, brother. Get some sleep, rest up, and don't skip your doctor appointments," Sam tells him, and Deeks manages a huff of a laugh.
"Sam Hanna recommending medical care, I never thought I'd see the day," he jokes. His voice cracks, raspy and a little too soft.
"Don't worry, I'll make sure the big guy makes his follow up appointments too," Callen chimes in. "Even if he does it kicking and screaming."
"Oh you think you're funny?" Sam releases Deeks, turning back to argue with Callen.
Kensi gestures to the SUV. "You ready to go?"
By the time she gets in the driver's seat, Deeks has buckled himself in, one leg pulled up beneath the other and his head lolling against the headrest. She lets herself look for a few extra seconds, taking in the bruises, even deeper than before, the cuts. His jaw looks puffier again and she hopes he actually took the medication he was prescribed.
The drive is too silent without Deeks' usual commentary and jokes, which leaves plenty of time for her mind to wander. She remembers the moment they found him and Sam; at first, she was sure he was dead. She'll never forget the horror she'd felt when he opened his mouth and blood poured out or his confused pleas for help.
And she'd left him instead to fend for himself against Sidorov. She'd walked out on her tortured, bleeding, terrified partner.
Deeks makes a noise, barely audible, but it's enough to pull her from her dark thoughts. He has his head tipped back completely with his eyes squeezed shut.
She glances at the road again, which mercifully empty, and watches him out of the corner of her eye. He swallows and grimaces, his jaw tightening, lips pursing, followed by a short, sharp inhale through his nose. After the third time, she can't take it anymore.
"Deeks, are you ok?" Kensi asks, which is such a stupid question. Of course he's no alright.
"Mm," he grunts out. "The doctor said it would hurt—" he pauses to inhale through his nose again. "Said it's going to take time to heal. They can't do anything else until then." He's almost breathless, the pain obvious in his voice, by the time he finishes.
"God," Kensi murmurs. She reaches across the console, gripping his hand as tightly as she can. It's not much, but she hopes it gives Deeks some comfort or something to focus on.
The next 15 minutes feel like an eternity, and when she pulls up to Deeks' apartment, his hand is clenched so tightly around hers, she knows there'll be marks later.
Even so, she almost misses the contact when Deeks lets go, and starts to unbuckle his seatbelt. His movements are a lot slower and slightly uncoordinated than normal.
"Thanks for bringing me home," he mutters, looking anywhere but directly at her.
"Here, let me help you get in. I can get you settled, make you something to eat," she offers. He doesn't take the opening to make a joke about her cooking skills, just shakes his head once, not even attempting a smile as he opens the door.
"I'll be ok, Kensi. I just need to sleep."
She watches him laboriously ease himself out, and unsteadily walk to the front door. She knows she should ignore him and make sure he gets inside. Maybe insist on staying the night just in case.
Instead, she lets him disappear inside.
Later, when he hasn't answered a text or call in weeks and leaves his favorite pastry sitting on the front step, she'll wish she didn't listen.