Going home that night, Kensi knows that nothing has ended. They may have turned a page, and that page may look completely blank to her now, but they're still in the book.

At least, she's pretty sure they are. Raccoons… Raccoons. She can't say she goes to bed with a smile on her face, but she remains hopeful. Optimistic? No, not optimistic.

One thing she knows is that the next time Deeks mentions raccoons, she'll be saying, "In English, please, Deeks." Direct communication can't really be all that hard, can it? When she needed time, she asked for time. She thinks that Deeks needs time now, so she'll wait—they're worth the wait. She just wishes she could be sure.

So they work side-by-side and they fall back into a groove. A groove that no longer feels entirely natural to Kensi, but one she can easily slip into. Months pass. They banter. She almost forgets she's waiting—but not quite.

Of course, it doesn't happen the way she thought it might, the way it might have unfolded in dreams she'll never admit she's had.

On a slow day, she's doing paperwork at her desk while Deeks does his cardio in the gym. She goes to ask him a question, and he pops out his earbud to listen to her, then says, no transition, "Hey Kens, do you want to get a bite to eat after work?"

"Oh," she says. "Um, sure."

"Great," he says, and puts his earbud back in. Kensi walks away, confused, and doesn't realize until she's back at her desk that he didn't actually answer her question.

He takes her to a pub they sometimes go to after work for a beer, and they eat burgers at a small round table. They don't talk much—it's loud, everyone is shouting—but Deeks eventually leans across the table and says, "You know, raccoons—" and she can't even help it, she drops her head to her hand and groans, "Not the raccoons again, please."

He laughs, nods, and goes back to his burger. She opens her mouth, feeling like she should apologize, do something so that she hasn't just shut down his only attempt at communication, but what can she say? It wouldn't help them for her to lie right now. She shuts her mouth and pokes at the rest of her burger, leaving it uneaten but drinking down her beer.

She's edging into morose by the time they pull up outside her home, and she asks dejectedly, "You wanna come up for a beer?"

"Yep," he says, already turning off the car, and she looks up in surprise. He's surprisingly upbeat.

Setting a beer on the table before him, she sits on the couch as she always does, one leg underneath her and her beer on her knee. They talk about minutiae for a minute or two, then he sets his beer back down and says, "So, raccoons—"

"Deeks," she says, warning in her tone. "I'm serious, don't."

He purses his lips and nods again, and she holds her breath waiting to see if he'll continue.

"Just lay it all out there, huh?" He glances at her and she blinks rapidly. Leaning forward, he rests his forearms on his thighs and scratches at the label on his beer. "Okay," he says slowly. "This isn't easy for me. The truth is, I wasn't ready for how it felt when you returned to work. It… there's no real reason for it, but it brought me back to Afghanistan, to how scared I was, and it brought me back… further, to before." He takes a breath and lets it out on a sigh, still not looking up. "When that, that guy started spouting off, about partners and hearts… I just got scared. It's not manly or macho to admit, but yeah. I was scared. And I needed time to adjust, to get back to how things were."

He sits up, leaning back into the couch and bracing his hands on his legs. "But things are different. Maybe, for just a little while, I wanted to pretend that they weren't. That things could be the way they always were, when… when it worked for us." Finally, he looks at her, and there's so much confusion in his eyes. "But that time is gone. And honestly, that scares me too. But… I can't live with this stasis anymore. It doesn't make sense to sit still when I know we're on a journey forward. And it doesn't make sense to leave you out in the cold when, when that's the last thing I want to do to you." He puts his hands over his face and heaves a deep breath.

Kensi has been listening quietly, absolutely focused on Deeks, and now she reaches out to touch his back. He looks up again and sees compassion on her face.

"Does that make sense?" he asks weakly.

"Sure, Deeks," she says softly. "That makes perfect sense to me."

"Will you—" He looks down, and then up past his eyebrows. "I mean, do you want that too?"

"To move forward?" She laughs, her loud dorky laugh she can't control. "Yeah, Deeks, I want that." She can't stop smiling now, her hand rubbing small circles on his back.

He turns toward her, holds his hands out almost in a "ta-da" gesture, so tentative is his request for a hug. She raises her eyebrows at him, leaning forward and then wrapping her arms around him. His settle easily on her back, and they stay there for a good minute, their bodies nestled together so softly in a way they rarely allow.

Deeks smiles, finally, over her shoulder, and says, "I should go."

Kensi pulls back immediately, a question on her face.

"Slow and steady, right?" Deeks asks, and she relaxes into a soft smile.

"That sounds good."

He walks to the door, slowly, as she trails behind. After he pulls open the door, he turns back.

"Step one."

She hesitates, then nods, and once she starts she can't stop. Yes, yes, yes.

He brings his hand up to her cheek and leans down to kiss her forehead, then before he can second-guess himself, he walks out the door and away.

Kensi watches him to his car, closing the door reluctantly when he finally pulls away. She gives herself a minute, leaning her head back on the door.

That, definitely, without a doubt, was progress.

Thank God.