A/N - Because Kensi doesn't forget Deeks' birthday in the first chapter, technically The Box needs a new reason for existing. But in the end, the meaning is still the same and this is also my new speculation for what's in the box. If it's not true, the writers and I will be in a fight.

kind of tags to Red Part 1 and Three Hearts

Two and a half months later – Spring 2013

"What's in the box?" Dave, from NCIS's Red Team, is eyeing said box as he and his colleague, Claire, stand in the bullpen with Kensi and Deeks.

The box had shown up on Kensi's desk about six weeks ago and despite his best efforts, Deeks has been unsuccessful in finding out what it is. And Kensi seems to enjoy keeping the secret he so desperately wants to know.

"Wow," he looks to her, "that is a fantastic question. Why don't you ask my partner…not that she's gonna tell you."

Attention now on her, Kensi lets out a small sigh, "His birthday was a couple months ago and I couldn't think of anything to get him. I finally figured it out though, and got him something he's always wanted…more than anything else in the world." Her eyes never leave her partner, gauging his reaction to this revelation.

Stunned. That's the best way to describe the look on his face. Kensi chuckles internally at the thought that this is the second time in a few short months that she's left him speechless.

Other conversation and background noise all but fade away. In this moment, it's just the two of them and Deeks finds himself a little bit in awe of his partner.

"You really did that?" His voice is soft and unsure. "I thought dinner was my gift?"

Kensi shrugs and her eyes flick to the ground before meeting his again, "It wasn't enough."

For weeks, Kensi has been unable to forget the look on her partner's face when he had believed that she, of all people, had forgotten his birthday. She realized that he didn't know what he means to their team, and especially to her. How could he, she had chastised herself, when you've never really told him?

She hopes that this box – this gift – is going to fix that.

"So if everything I ever wanted is inside this box…" he trails off and Kensi gives him the slightest nod of affirmation, "then, life doesn't get any better than this moment right now, and there's no real reason to open it, is there?"

A look he can't quite define flashes across her face so quickly that anyone else would have missed it. For a split second, he thinks she's going to tell him not to be so ridiculously sappy and just open the box, but she surprises him again when she simply smirks and shakes her head.

As he places the box back on top of the shelf, he tries to convince himself that he isn't scared that she got it wrong. In fact, for reasons he can't quite grasp, he thinks he might be more scared that she got it right.

For now, it doesn't even matter – he just wants to hang onto this unidentifiable feeling that has washed over him at this seemingly simple gesture.

Except, it's anything but simple.

. . . .

One year later – Spring 2014

As Deeks watches Kensi walk out of the bullpen, he can't wrap his mind around what just happened, even if it was his doing.

She had been standing there, looking cautiously hopeful, ready to talk about their "thing", and all he could focus on were Angelo's words. Words that were meant to rattle him, and that's exactly what they had done.

Ever since the night they had together, before Afghanistan, he never imagined a scenario in which he would be the one backing away from her and from them. Then again, he also never imagined being in the situation he found himself in at the cleric's house, trying to get information about the group who had taken Kensi. He had never imagined wanting to make someone suffer solely because he wanted them to feel the pain he had felt in seeing that picture of her with her throat cut.

He doesn't know if he can balance what he feels for her and what he would do for her with the dangers they face every day at work. And he can't lose her, even if it means not completely having her.

Sighing, his gaze shifts from where he had last seen her, to the now-open box sitting on his desk. As he stands up, his heart is beating rapidly and he has to concentrate on keeping his hands from shaking.

He peeks inside and can't help the small laugh that escapes when he sees what's inside.

Another box.

"Touché," he says softly to himself.

As he flips the new box in his hands and places it back on the shelf, he doesn't see his partner watching him from the shadows around the corner. He doesn't see the anticipation in her mismatched eyes as she tries to telepathically urge him to open it.

Kensi exhales with a hint of frustration when she watches Deeks leave the bullpen without opening the second box.

That's not how this was supposed to go…

Last spring, her nerves had gotten the best of her and she never pushed him to open the box. Then Sidorov happened and all she could think about was getting her partner back. And before she knew it, she was shipped off to Afghanistan and could only hope she wasn't going to die before getting back home.

The box was all but forgotten. Until Angelo showed up.

Third hearts, raccoons, a knife that isn't just a knife, and suddenly the box seemed like a logical response to whatever the hell had just happened between them in the bullpen.

If Deeks was going to sit there and think that they weren't in this together, she was going to prove him wrong.

Unless he won't open the damn box.

. . . .

One and half years later – Fall 2015

"Honey, I'm home!" he practically sings as he lets himself into his apartment.

Dropping his bag on the floor, he turns to find his girlfriend of almost a year sitting on his couch and he immediately senses that something is off. The good-natured eyeroll he would typically receive for an entrance like that is missing and she looks tense and nervous.

And then he notices a box sitting on the coffee table in front of her.

"I'd ask if you were moving out except you don't technically live here," he ruffles his hair, confused by her lack of reaction. "Although I feel like a lot of your stuff is here and believe me, that box is nowhere near big enough to fit all of your things." He's rambling and trying to joke because he doesn't like the look on her face.

He finally moves towards the couch and drops himself slowly beside her. Reaching out with his hand, he traces a finger along her forearm as it rests on her knee until he reaches her hand and laces their fingers together.

"Kens…what's going on?"

She squeezes his hand and exhales.

"Why haven't you opened the box?" The sharp tone of her voice contradicts the worried crease of her brow and her eyes never leave the box in front of her.

Deeks shifts his gaze from her profile to the box. And for the first time notices that it's not just any box.

He lets out a long sigh and shrugs, "I don't know if I have an answer."

"You're going to open it now," she states firmly, "I need you to open it."

He's been away from NCIS for almost two weeks now, dealing with LAPD and that damn Internal Affairs investigation. Kensi has grown increasingly irritated over the situation as the days have passed, and while the contents of the box won't have an impact on his dealings with IA, she is hoping it will at least mean that he won't have to answer to LAPD in the future.

"Does it really matter now?" he tilts his head and gives her hand a quick squeeze, "I've got what I want."

Trying to bite back a smile, Kensi shakes her head but her expression quickly turns serious again.

"If anything, I think that makes it matter more," she says as she lets go of his hand, pulls her father's knife from her waistband, and places it on top of the box.

Deeks looks at her carefully, "Kens…"

"Please..." she cuts him off and nods towards the knife, "Just open it."

"Okay…okay," he nods and pulls the box closer to him.

As he picks up the knife and slices through the tape, his nerves are getting the best of him and so are hers. This is something he wants; she's known that for years now, even though she isn't sure that he's even known it.

When Deeks reaches into the box and pulls out a thin manila folder, Kensi gently pulls it from his grasp, takes a deep breath, and begins the explanation she's been practicing for days.

"When I gave you the first box, things were different. When I opened that box and left you with this one, after I got back from Afghanistan, things were a different kind of different. And things are obviously different now," she squeezes his knee and offers him a soft smile. "But what's in here and what I think it would mean to you hasn't changed."

She hands the folder back to Deeks and watches as he opens it slowly. His breath hitches when he sees what's inside. Of all the things he had imagined might be in that box, somehow, this never crossed his mind.

An application to become an agent with NCIS.

A near-completed application, with his name and all of his information on it. The only things missing are a date and his signature. It's almost identical to the one that Hetty gave him all those years ago except he recognizes the handwriting as Kensi's.

Looking up at her, he sees the emotion in her eyes that undoubtedly mirrors the emotion in his own. "I don't know what to say, Kens."

She nods, "I found the place where I belong when I joined OSP. So did you, even if you've been unsure about that over the years. You belong with us, Deeks. You belong with me, as my partner. I knew it three years ago and I know it now, more than ever. I think it's about time it was official."

His eyes flick back and forth between the papers in his hands and the imploring eyes of his partner-slash-girlfriend. The thing he's been sitting on for over four years now, the switch from cop to agent, suddenly doesn't seem so complicated.

Kensi's right – he belongs with NCIS and with her, and he's known it for a while. When he turned down Hetty's offer before their little vacation to Romania, it wasn't hard for him to justify staying with LAPD. As the years have gone on, the reasoning behind that refusal became more and more blurred, but it wasn't until this moment that he realized that he has more reasons to become an agent than he does to remain a cop.

Within the walls of a condemned Spanish-style mission – and within the protective walls of a certain partner's heart – he's found a home.

"Alright, Fern," a broad smile splits his face, "got a pen?"