Title: Promises
By: Jessica
Pairing: Kensi/Deeks
Rating: T
Timeline: Post 4x17, Wanted.
Summary: "And maybe I can't promise that something won't happen to me…but I'm sure as hell going to do everything in my power to promise that something won't happen to you."

For Angèle, for all the reasons I know I never say enough. Thank you, truly, and I hope you enjoy the rest of this one. And btw, I hear you over there lol'ing at my insistence that this wouldn't even hit 4K. ;)

"You got my back?"

He gives her his trademark smile, the one she's found she simply cannot get enough of. Playfully, he nudges his elbow into her side; a simple, teasing touch that shouldn't electrify her skin, but does. Oh it does and Kensi finds herself unable to deny that. "Always, Princess," he replies, adding a wink to his already charming answer (though she'd never say that to his face). "You ready?"

She nods. "On three?"

"On three."

It's simple, routine. They're used to this – used to standing back-to-back in the shadows, breathing hard, ready to jump into the line of fire with only each other to protect them. They're even used to getting caught unaware like this, caught off-guard in the middle of an investigation with only their standard issue firearms. No back-ups, no vests. No protection.

It's never bothered her because she trusts her partner implicitly. One-hundred percent. On some level, maybe she thinks she shouldn't take as many risks; maybe she should be a bit more careful when they're caught like this…but he's there. He's there and he's got her back and she's not concerned for a second that anything could happen to them.

And then, it all happens so fast.

In the blink of an eye, the bullets start flying, accosting them from all directions. In the darkness, she thinks she counts five, six, maybe seven or more shooters – however many there are, it's crystal clear that they're surrounded. Outnumbered. Outpowered. Ambushed.

She ducks down around a corner, shielding her head from the rain of debris as bullets pepper the walls and ceilings above. Her heart pounds furiously; she's said so much to Deeks before only for him to reply that she's utterly insane, but these are the moments when she feels most alive. When she's facing death head-on, knowing beyond a shadow of all doubt that she's better, that she's going to be the victor. The sense of power that floods her is addictive, dangerously addictive. Taking a deep breath, she tightens her steady hands around the metal of her weapon, ready to jump into the line of fire with a quick, breathless, "Cover me!"

She thinks she hears a disbelieving "God, you're out of your mind!"

The next several moments pass in a blur, colored by gunfire and shouts and the unmistakable thrill of triumph as one by one, Kensi takes out the bad guys, sending them cold to the dusty ground below.

It seems to stretch on forever, but at the same time, it's all over in a flash. And then, all is quiet save for the pounding of her heart and the electric pulse of the adrenaline in her veins. When it's over, she's brushing her hair back from her sweaty face, a smirk on her lips as she turns to her partner, eager to boast of her skills. She's not a one-upper or anything though, not at all.

But when she sees him, her heart stops.

Her heart stops and an icy block of dread drops right into her stomach, sickening her, nearly bringing her to her knees. Somehow – she doesn't know how because she never sees her phone again afterward – she manages to get a frantic call out for rescue and then she's on the ground with him, bright scarlet blood soaking into the knees of her jeans.

His name escapes her lips – whispers, cries, pleas, anything as her tiny hands splay over his chest, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood. Her stomach clenches violently when it takes mere seconds for her hands to become covered, utterly soaked with blood.

"Deeks. No. You hang on, you hear me?" she demands, her eyes frantically searching the now-empty warehouse. They're the only breathing souls who remain. Kensi presses against his chest, eliciting a heavy groan of pain from her partner, a groan that breaks her heart. "Hang on, partner."

She has no idea how this could have happened. No idea at all. One moment, he'd been at her side, at her back, and now…now he's lying on the ground, in a pool of his own blood, and dammit, hadn't she made him promise not to do this again? No more bullets?

His head rolls slowly to the side and Kensi feels the first burst of panic truly grab her. "Deeks. Look at me, okay? Can you do that for me?"

He whispers her name, a broken, agony-filled whisper that just utterly kills her. It's then that her hands begin to shake – her hands, her arms, her entire body. "Deeks. Listen to me. I know it hurts. And I'm – I'm –" Regret fills her, the sour, acrid burn of guilt because God, he had her back.

Why didn't she have his?

Where was she when the first bullet pierced his skin? The second? The third?

Where was she when his body fell to the ground?

Where was she when he cried out?

How long had he been lying here bleeding before she ever even realized it?

Could she have saved him if only she'd realized sooner?

He coughs then, struggling to breathe as he chokes on his own blood, smothered by the fluid that's supposed to give him life. It's then that she realizes just how bad this really, truly is. They're not superficial wounds, not like before. These are serious, doing much more than simply nicking little veins and bruising ribs. No. These wounds…

They're fatal.

And there's nothing she can do.

Her eyes begin to burn but forcefully Kensi tries to blink away the tears, fearing that if she lets him slip from her vision for even a second, he'll slip away from her forever. "You're not doing this to me, you hear me?" she hisses, tearing her hands from his chest long enough only to rip her jacket from her shoulders. It's light, barely anything, but it's something, she thinks. It's more than just her hands and God, whatever she can do right now to stop the bleeding…

Deep down, she knows it's hopeless though. Knows that before the blood soaks fully through the fabric.

She hears the sirens in the distance; they're too far though. Too far away, locked up in Los Angeles rush hour, and Kensi feels the breath leave her lungs as she realizes quite chillingly that by the time they get there, it'll be too late.

No one makes it after losing that much blood.

Blood that pours over the cold stone floor, filling the air with the sickening odor of death, heavy and suffocating and imminent. Blood that soaks into his shirt, turning simple grey cotton into utter scarlet horror. Blood that covers her hands, her face, her clothes, everything. It's all over her, the crushing weight of stolen life.

This wasn't supposed to be the end for him. For them.

"No." The word forces its way out on a sob, one Kensi can't be bothered to stop. This…no. No. He wasn't supposed to leave her. He wasn't supposed to end up like everyone else in her life. They were supposed to be like Callen and Sam – partners for years, partners for life. They were supposed to celebrate anniversaries and milestones and beginnings and the future…

And…they could have been so much more…

Questions of whether or not they would make it five years like Callen and Sam have; teasing remarks of how if they make it ten, she deserves his hand in marriage. Bridal magazine surveys, quips about how he's the missing piece to her messy, unhealthy, utterly disorganized life; that he's the only one who could ever put up with that…even come to love it. Smiles and good-natured comments about how it's a good thing he looks good in pink since she doesn't know how to separate laundry, instead of getting angry about it, blaming her for ruining his carefully crafted wardrobe. Playful jokes of little mutant ninja assassins, of Little Ferns and floppy hair and big blue eyes. Promises to stand by her beyond the requirements of the job, their partnership. Confessions whispered late in the night with only the shadows to hear them.

So much more…

Tenderly she lifts his head, gently cradling him in her lap as she strokes her bloodstained fingers through his hair. It's the struggle of his life, that much Kensi can tell, but somehow he manages to force his eyes open one last time.

One last time, for her.

It just about kills her.

That beautiful, ocean blue that she sees in her dreams, now dark and hollow and empty, completely devoid of the sparkle she's grown so used to seeing there. A deep, icy chill wracks her body, filling her with the dread and horror and utter hopelessness she's only allowed herself to feel twice in her life.

Both times, when she'd lost the one person who'd meant most to her.

Both times, she'd felt as if she'd never become whole again.

God, she can't do it again. She can't lose him. Not him.

His frighteningly pale face swims in her vision and Kensi blinks hard, but no force of will is enough to stem these tears. "Deeks, please…" she whispers. She's unsure if the shaking she feels is her own body or the trembling of her partner as he slips further and further away from her. She's losing him, and there's absolutely nothing she can do to bring him back. She's powerless, unable to do a damn thing for him as he bleeds out in her arms. "Come on, babe…stay with me. I – I need you."

She'd give anything for him to tease her right now about her words, desperate and frantic…yet true. It's the perfect point for him to chime in about how attached she's grown to him…how much she can't live without him. He doesn't, though; he says nothing and she wonders if he actually heard her at all.

Her tears begin to fall, wetting her cheeks before one, then two splash gently upon her partner's face. His brow twitches, and Kensi can't deny that suddenly she's holding her breath, grasping at straws because maybe, just maybe that's a sign that he's got enough fight left in him. Maybe he can pull through this. Maybe they can still have all those months and years and anniversaries and moments together, moments that she's taken for granted far too many times in the past. God, if only she could go back and recapture every last moment…

He fights back from the brink then, though it takes everything he has. Every last bit of his strength – it goes into opening his eyes again, gazing up at her like he's never seen a more beautiful sight. "No – no tears, Sunshine…" he murmurs. The fingers of one hand twitch, and despite all the times she's sworn to kill him if he ever, ever, ever acknowledged tears in her eyes, right now she'd give just about anything for him to lift that hand and brush the tears away.

She'd give anything.

He can't, though.

He can't even find the energy to squeeze her hand when she quickly links their fingers, shivering at the chill already settling into his flesh. A flash of agony shoots across his face, a dagger through what's left of Kensi's own heart. His lips part once, twice, again, and Kensi can tell he's fighting, trying to find his voice and strength to speak. "Deeks…" She sniffles, knowing even she, impeccably put-together Kensi Blye, stone cold fox, won't be able to hold it together much longer.

(It breaks her heart, the idea that he's holding on, trying to be strong for her.)

The words he forces out are little more than a groan of pain, of weakness, but there's no mistaking the quiet, desperate plea. "Forgive me, Fern…"

That's it. "No. No!" she chokes out, feeling her chest tighten painfully. "You – you don't – I can't – God, no – you – you – I can't…" She's gasping for breath now, sucking in oxygen but not really breathing and oh God how it hurts. It hurts, and she's only been shot once before – a graze, really – but this…this hurts so incredibly much more. She feels almost as if she's the one who's taken three, four…no, maybe five – God, she doesn't even know how many – shots at point blank range to the chest. Kensi Blye can deal with pain but this…this feels like something even she cannot overcome. Something she can't come back from.

Something she can't survive.

"It's okay," he whispers, and she finds herself wanting to slap him in that moment because how can he say that? How can he dare say it's okay when he's slipping away from her; when she's covered in his blood; when she's begging him, utterly begging him to hold on just a little bit longer because rescue is coming, can't he hear the sirens?!

It's not okay because he's giving up on her, on them. He's closing his eyes, giving in, letting the strength be taken from his body. He's letting himself be taken away from her, just like everyone else.

It's not okay, because he's just another person she trusted, another person she loved with every little part of her soul only for him to abandon her.

He can't…he can't just do this to her.

No.

He can't.

She can't. "Marty…" Her voice cracks as she lowers her head, closing her eyes and touching her forehead to his, shivering at the chill in his skin. "Marty. God, Marty…"

It's the first time his name, his first name has slipped from her lips – he's always been Deeks or Shaggy or any other number of nicknames she's given him over the years, but somehow, never Marty. Not until now.

He never hears it, though.

By the time rescue arrives, he's been gone for eight minutes. Eight long, cold minutes cradling him close, silently begging any deity that exists for him to open his eyes and grin that maddening grin at her, his eyes sparkling again as he whispers a playful "Gotcha."

(She hasn't prayed for anything in a very long time but God…she'd abandon all of her vices if someone, anyone would bring her partner back to her.)

She finds herself shaken violently awake, gasping for air, her heart nearly pounding right out of her chest. A cold sweat drenches her body, but Kensi pushes forcefully at the heavy blanket covering her, feeling almost as if it might smother her. She wants to jump up, to pace around and shake every last one of these feelings out of her but something…something holds her in place and the more she tries to fight, the more it holds onto her.

It takes her a long moment to put the pieces together, to realize that the dreadful moment she'd seen and felt so vividly, the moment she'd lived through…hadn't actually been real. There's no warehouse, no firefight, no blood. Her blurry eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness; when she lifts a shaky hand to her face, she's mortified to find the moisture of tears on her cheeks.

Her body continues to tremble even as her mind realizes where she is – her own living room, her own couch. Low light flickers almost eerily off the walls, and even the recognition that it's merely from the screen in front of her isn't enough to soothe her – she still can't see anything but the flash of gunfire.

For a moment, she closes her eyes despite the images that play on the back of her eyelids. She breathes in deeply, holds it and then lets it go, struggling to regain control when mere moments before, she'd been stripped completely of it. It hadn't been real, though…no matter how incredibly vivid it had felt. "A dream," she breathes.

It's then that she realizes she isn't alone. Her breath catches as she hears his voice, quiet and roughened with sleep, oh so close to her ear. "A nightmare…"

Almost as if reading the thoughts that pulse through her mind, Deeks tightens his arms around her, pulling her closer to him when all she wants to do is pull away. To pull herself from his arms and climb to unsteady feet, just to put some distance between them. Enough to calm herself, at least. She hates this – hates this feeling of weakness, powerlessness. The feeling of her heart nearly beating out of her chest. The feeling of being so unable to control her thoughts, her dreams, her emotions. The case from a few days ago had hit home the reality of her deepest, darkest fear, and now her subconscious had chosen to exploit that.

And God, she can't help but hate that he's seeing her like this, right now. Her body trembling, eyes prickling with moisture, still struggling to catch her breath. Embarrassment rises up within her – it'd just been a dream, after all. "How – how did you know?"

He hums softly, the sound vibrating gently through her body. "How could I not know?" he murmurs, tracing a fingertip gently over the top of her hand. "One minute I was dozing off during the rose ceremony. Next thing I know, I'm getting punched in the jaw."

Kensi squirms. "I did not," she protests quietly.

Deeks chuckles. "You did. I mean, I know you're obsessed with this show, but after the week we've had, I didn't think you'd resent me that much for dosing off." Kensi says nothing in response to his gentle teasing; when he continues, the playfulness is gone, replaced with a gentle seriousness that underscores just how deeply he cares for her. "Then I realized you were out," he breathes. "That something…terrible was going on in your head." He doesn't elaborate; doesn't describe how his heart had accelerated with worry at her soft whimpers, the disturbed twitching of her sleeping body ensnared in a horror from which she could not awaken. The fear he'd felt as he'd tried to shake her, to draw her gently from whatever was torturing her because it kills him to see her in pain, real or imagined.

She stiffens in his arms then, knowing, just knowing that somehow, he can see right into the depths of her mind. It's ridiculous, but she's certain he knows exactly what she was dreaming of. But rather than say anything else, his next words are a quiet inquiry whispered into her hair, so close that she can feel the brush of his lips. "Do you want me to go?"

Her answer is quick, mortifyingly so…but in the end, she feels he probably knew the answer anyway before he ever asked the question. "No."

And she doesn't – God, she honestly, truly doesn't. She still wishes he'd let her put a bit of space between them, for the moment at least, but the last thing she wants right now is for him to leave because at the very core of it all, his presence is more calming than anything. His arms, warm and strong around her, not cold and lifeless, surrounded by spilled blood; his chest to her back, just as they've woken up accidentally so many mornings after late night marathons, hair tousled and limbs tangled. She doesn't want him to go because his warmth, his scent, his everything…she needs that to believe that her dream was merely a cruel joke played upon her by her subconscious mind.

She needs to know he's still here with her.

(She hates just how weak that makes her feel inside, though.)

Feeling her shudder, Deeks throws caution to the wind and leans forward a bit, nuzzling softly into her hair. "You want to talk about it?" he murmurs, fairly certain he knows the answer to that.

He's surprised, then, when he hears her voice, uncharacteristically small and sad, whispering words that utterly break his heart. "It's just...you broke your promise…"

Suddenly, everything makes sense to him. She doesn't have to elaborate, doesn't have to clarify exactly which promise. He doesn't need to know any more about her nightmare itself to know exactly what happened.

He knows, because he's had that nightmare plenty of times himself. "Kens…"

She's not sure if she's the one who turns toward him or if he's the one gently coaxing her to turn, but somehow, suddenly, her back isn't to his chest anymore and instead they're facing each other, his arms wrapped tightly around her and her head tucked snugly beneath his chin. It's bittersweet, truly, because while he loves the incredibly rare moments like this, the moments where she lets her walls down enough for him to hold her, to comfort her, he utterly hates seeing his strong, beautiful Kensi break down to the point where she needs that and can't hide it. "God, I wish I could make that promise to you…"

Kensi squeezes her eyes shut, feeling them burn again at the utter heartache in his voice. She knows it had been a ridiculous request, but oh, how she'd wanted to hear the words. In the moment, she'd wanted that so terribly, even though they both know it's not something either of them could really ever promise. "I know…"

"You know if I could, I'd make you promise me the same."

Inhaling deeply, Kensi savors the sweet aroma of sea and salt and Deeks, a combination that's become one of her favorites scents. And even more so now, as real as the coppery, metallic scent of blood that had overpowered her in her nightmare had been. God, she can't imagine never being able to cherish his scent again.

Cherish. It's exactly what she's doing – she can't deny that. She also can't deny the fear that rises up within her at the realization, a fear that had been planted by Sobatino, a fear that had pushed her to requesting such an impossible promise. "Can – can I ask you something?"

"Anything, Kens," he breathes.

"Do you ever worry that…" She swallows hard, drawing comfort (and secretly, strength) from the steady caress of his hand on her back. His scent washes over her and it takes everything she has to stop herself from discreetly nuzzling his neck because God, it almost hurts just how badly she wants to. When she continues, her voice is little more than a whisper, just barely traversing the miniscule space between them. "That maybe you and me…we're too – too close?"

He blinks, caught off guard for a brief moment. "Too close?"

"Yeah." She shrugs softly. "Like you and me, we…I mean, look at Callen and Sam," she says, drawing back enough to meet his gaze for the first time. "They don't, you know, do this…"

"Not that we know of." He smirks, trying to lighten the moment. "And personally, I don't really want to know if they do."

She wants to smile. Wants to smile and laugh and brush it off just as she'd done just days ago in the boatshed. He'd offered her the same way out then – a light, playful answer in response to her heavy plea, her request for a promise that had surprised him to the very core. Even more surprising had been the shimmer of tears in her eyes – his Kensi, his tough, badass, endlessly strong and beautiful partner moved nearly to tears by the very real fear of losing her partner.

Not just her partner, but him.

She'd stood before him, tears in her eyes, caught within the icy clutches of fear and he…being her partner, the one person who knows her better than anyone, had made a playful joke, saving her from the emotions threatening to drag her under. He hadn't even pushed her, and in that moment, she'd wanted to hug him for that. She, Kensi Blye, clearly not the touchy-feely cuddler in this partnership, had wanted to embrace him.

She thinks, really, it's a long time coming for everything he's ever done for her.

But then again, that's the crux of the problem, she thinks with a sigh. "I, uh, I never really had the chance to get close to – to Dom," she explains, feeling the pang of regret that still hits her every time the young agent crosses her mind. "I never really…made much of an effort, really. I didn't really know anything about his life – family, friends, what he did outside of work." Pausing, Kensi swallows hard, determined with everything within her to keep her voice steady. She won't break. Not now. "And still, when he – when he died, it hurt like hell, Deeks. He was still a friend, a partner, and losing him was…awful."

She feels her eyes sting, and suddenly, the crystal blue of his gaze is too much for her. She nestles her face in the crook of his neck again, feeling the beat of her heart grow frantic once more. Her words are little more than a whisper, and if not for the gentle warmth of her breath against his throat, he'd swear he'd imagined them. "I don't think I can lose you…"

"Kens…"

Her hand clutches in the material of his shirt, just above the beat of his heart. "I just keep thinking – Snyder could have been us. Could have been – could have been…" You. Kensi shivers, cold despite the warmth of his arms around her. It's a fear so chilling that she's not sure any heat could ever truly penetrate it. Squeezing her eyes shut, she swallows hard, searching desperately for her voice but still finding no more than a murmur. "We – we put ourselves in danger like that everyday," she points out. "I mean, we're always getting ourselves into shootouts – how many times before – before we don't make it out?"

He smiles softly. "I don't see that happening because how many bad guys have better aim than you?"

"How many times do we – do you distract the bad guys so I can get a shot?"

"That just means we make a perfect team."

"No, Deeks…" She lets out a shaky breath. "I mean..."

He sighs heavily, allowing his smile to fade. He knows what point she's trying to make, but oh, how he'd hoped to keep her from going there, because those are demons that he himself fails to quiet some nights. Her fear, this paralyzing, horrifying fear that she's trying but failing to describe…well, it's his own greatest fear. Losing this. Losing her. "I know. I'm sorry," he murmurs, tightening his arms around her again. God, he never wants to let her go. "What's got you thinking about all of this now?" he presses gently. He knows at the heart of it, it's the death of Snyder, a death that could have easily been any of them…but Snyder isn't the first death they've witnessed.

For a long moment, Kensi doesn't answer. It's a question she should have seen coming, and really she had, but she hadn't truly wanted Deeks to get to the crux of what's plaguing her mind so quickly, so easily. "It's just…some of the things Sobatino said to me," she says finally, and despite herself, she feels the heat begin to rise in her cheeks – she's almost certain Deeks can feel it against his skin. "I think a lot of it was he was just…you know, trying to hit on me, but there were just some things he said…about how he would never be able to be my partner because…"

She trails off, struggling with the right words. She wants something more benign, safer than what Sobatino had suggested. Something that doesn't suggest anything remotely similar to love. "He said he'd be afraid to get so close to his partner because…you always need to trust them to have your back. That…if you get too close, there's no greater torture because the last thing you want to see is your partner in any kind of danger…like we put ourselves in every day. That you – you can't be partners with somebody you're that close to. Someone you...care that much about."

"I don't believe that for a second," Deeks replies without even thinking about it, conviction in his quiet words. For a moment, he's silent, merely tracing his fingertips up and down the length of Kensi's spine. "I think that, yeah, sometimes it makes it hard. You don't want to see anyone you care about in danger though, and I think that, if you don't care about your partner, if you're able to not worry about them when all hell is breaking lose, then I think you've got no business being their partner."

Deeks pauses for a moment, smiling softly as words spoken to him nearly a year before flutter gently back to his memory – "either way, son, it makes the job harder." Maybe so, but he knows in the very depths of his soul that there's not a single part of him that wants to be doing this job anymore if he ever reaches the point where he's able to separate completely. "When we're in the field," he begins softly, turning his head slightly so that every whispered word flutters gently through her hair, his lips mere millimeters from the top of her head. "Every gunshot, every body that hits the ground, every moment that I can't see you…the only thing I'm thinking about through all of that is…you. I – I can't think of anything or anybody else and everything in me…it all becomes about making sure you're covered. That you're safe. That some thug with a gun isn't going to surprise you at your six and – and…" He shudders, sickened by the thoughts that flit through his imagination. "You're my partner. Nothing is more important than having your back. Not a case, not other people, whether good or bad. You."

His words send a shiver racing down her spine. "That's what Sobatino was saying, though," she argues weakly. "If you're too close, you lose sight of everything else…sometimes, things that are more important."

"No." He shakes his head. "There's not a damn thing more important than the safety of my partner. No matter what – that's the most important thing, to have your back no matter what. And maybe I can't promise that something won't happen to me…but I'm sure as hell going to do everything in my power to promise that something won't happen to you."

Lifting a hand, he gently traces her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "I think that…if you don't get close, if you don't care, then that's when your partner is truly in danger." As his thumb reaches her chin, he gently coaxes her face away from him, waiting for her to blink those beautiful dark eyes open and meet his gaze before he continues. "As far as I'm concerned, whoever has my back…the more they care, the better I feel," he whispers.

She nods softly. "Okay," she whispers and while her voice still trembles, still seems a bit unsure, it's the look in her dark eyes that tells him the truth. That look that tells him that, despite her fears, she feels the same. At the end of it all, she doesn't want anybody else having her back.

And, at the same time, she doesn't want anybody else here with her now.

He offers her a gentle smile, repeating her answer just as she'd repeated his just days before in the boatshed. "Okay."

This time, unlike in her nightmare, it truly is okay.

They'll be okay.

Shifting a bit to reach for the blanket Kensi had so unceremoniously discarded, Deeks gently covers them both with it. Then, drawing his partner with him, he settles back into the cushions, a gentle smile on his lips. "So, yeah, okay, maybe Sam and Callen don't have late movie nights like this," he concurs, leaving out the part where nearly every single one of these late nights inevitably turns into sleepovers snuggled together on the couch, not to mention a full breakfast the next morning.

She smiles, silently grateful for his ability to always lighten the moment as she unapologetically steals his reply from before. "And I don't want to know if they do…"

Playfully, he nudges her calf with his toe, somewhere beneath the blanket. "Well, even if they do, I'm sure they watch something more substantial than," he pauses, faking a deep shudder. "The Bachelorette."

"Hey, I seem to recall that being your choice," she retorts.

"Lesser of all the DVR evils," he shoots back effortlessly. "Between that, and Jersey Shore or Honey Boo Boo…my God, Kensalina sometimes I wonder what's wrong with you. And then I wonder what's wrong with me because damn, I miss Top Model nights."

"Oh stop," Kensi laughs, playfully elbowing him. Granted, playful for her is usually painful for him, but honestly, right now he doesn't care at all because she's smiling again, and there is nothing better than seeing that beautiful smile. "No one made you come over tonight."

"I knew if I didn't, you would starve. Who else was gonna answer that needy text of yours with pizza and doughnuts? Which, by the way, I would have liked to have some myself, thank you very much."

"You're such a jerk," she scoffs, laughing despite herself.

He smirks. "Like you'd have me any other way." She hums softly, unable to deny the truth in his words. No, she wouldn't have him any other way – he's her partner, her best friend, her Deeks. Hers. Hers.

Sometimes, it scares her just how possessive she feels over him sometimes.

And sometimes, it thrills her.

Sobatino's innocent suggestions had inspired the former. Right now, though, it's unquestionably the latter. Unquestionably.

"So like I was saying," Deeks continues after a moment, letting his fingers thread gently through her hair. "Maybe Sam and Callen don't do this…but you know what? I can't imagine us not doing this."

As she nestles gently into him, her inhibitions lowered somewhat by the cover of darkness and the knowledge that he's already seen her worst for the night, Kensi can't deny deep inside that she can't imagine that either.

It's an hour and another full episode of The Bachelorette later before the companionable silence is broken again. Deeks finds himself drawn from a state of near-dozing once more as Kensi gently props herself up on his chest with a smile. Tilting her head, she tenderly presses her lips to his jaw in a soft, lingering kiss. "I'm, uh, sorry for hitting you," she whispers before he can question it, her lips still brushing his scruff with her apology.

An utterly infatuated smile slowly spreads across his face - he can't help it, not one bit. "No problem," he murmurs, unable to deny the sparks that alight on his skin from just the touch of her lips. Sunshine and gunpowder and sparks…it's a dangerous, highly explosive combination but Deeks finds he wants to have as much of it as he possibly can.

Wants it so much that he doesn't even stop to ponder the possible consequences of stoking that highly flammable mixture with the daring, playful quip that escapes his lips. "It, uh, was actually the other side, though," he teases, tapping a fingertip to his jaw. "If you're really interested in kissing it better, I mean…"

He expects her laugh, that gorgeous sound that he's positively in love with.

But he's taken completely by surprise when she obliges.