AN: I've been writing a few fluffy drabbles (also tumblr prompts) while on the train or in class and I realized they're all short stories with an established Densi.

I wanted to put this up as a one-shot but I'm now thinking of adding to this story. So, every chapter will stand on its own (as a "one-shot") but it could still be read as a story all together, without big time skips or AU-chapters. I'll see how it goes and change the summary/rating accordingly. I'm aiming for a lot of romance and humor, but might add some angst/hurt here and there.

Soooo here goes chapter 1... (got the idea when rewatching S2 and Deeks and Kensi each struggle with the other's idiosyncrasies.)

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS:LA or any of its characters.

"Uptight"

"Oh, come on!" Deeks yelled for the second time in less than a minute. He was on his knees in the kitchen, staring incredulously at the table as if it had grown a head and started talking to him.

The first time had been a groan of complaint as the orange he'd been about to slice and peel had fallen off the edge of the kitchen counter and proceeded to roll all the way to, of course, the far back corner of the table.

He'd been preparing breakfast for Kensi to take it to her before she woke up and stumbled into the kitchen herself. She had a way of sniffing out coffee like a trained hound.

He spared Monty only a quick suffering look as the dog stared at the orange until it disappeared and showed no interest in a game of fruit-fetch so early in the morning, as if he knew this was less of a game and more of an errand.

"Thanks, buddy," he grumbled to man's-best-friend as he got on his hands and knees and crawled underneath the table.

It wasn't the fruit that had incited the frustrated groan a second time, but what else he found that didn't belong there.

He stared at Monty for a second who stared back with an almost bored expression as if he couldn't believe Deeks was still surprised at this point.

He got up off the floor, muttering under his breath about crazy errant girlfriends, and stormed out of the kitchen and towards the bedroom, breakfast forgotten for the moment.

He found her rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, grumpy and rumpled in the middle of the bed, her legs still caught in the sheets, and the sight brought him to a full stop.
No matter how many times he saw her in his bed, or in his kitchen, rummaging for food in his fridge, seeing her wake up in the morning was still his favorite thing.

She woke up grumpy.

Soft, cuddly, and grumpy like a kitten, the frown forming before she'd even opened her eyes, ready to threaten a man before her first sip of-

"Coffee," she growled, spotting him standing in the open doorway.

It wasn't until she squinted and focused on the item in his left hand that Deeks stepped forward, remembering why he'd burst into the room.

"We need to talk."

He held up his hand so that she could properly see the gun and then set it down on the edge of the dresser.

She muttered something he didn't quite catch, but the tone was indication enough of what she thought about a conversation when she wasn't even fully awake yet.

"This has gone too far. I know you're uptight, you're the definition of uptight actually, hell you probably invented the word uptight, that's how uptight you are-"

"Oh my God, Deeks, you just said uptight like a billion times," she groaned, falling back into the pillows and throwing an arm over her face.

"-and", he continued as if she hadn't spoken, "I didn't complain when you put the lights on a timer, or when you change the times every other day so that nobody crazy enough to stake out my house knows if we're home or not."

He rolled his eyes.

"I can deal with the fact that you take your gun with you to do laundry and to walk Monty, and that you go jogging with your knife strapped to your body. I'm sure if you could take it into the shower with you, you would."

The only reaction from her was the hand on top of the pillow over her head thumping, as if trying to block out the sound of his voice.

"BUT," he continued, climbing onto the bed and yanking the pillow away from her, "I just found a gun taped to the underside of the kitchen table. Last week I found a knife between the seat cushions on the sofa, and my clocks, INCLUDING MY WRISTWATCH, are running fast again."

She pushed herself to her elbows and lifted an eyebrow, as if she was still waiting for him to tell her what the problem is.

"Even the one on the microwave! I kept wondering why everybody was running late!"

Her lips twitched.

"When I went to meet Callen last night I had to wait there like a prepubescent boy on his first date. I even called to ask if he was still coming, not knowing I was 20 minutes early!"

Kensi burst into laughter and he narrowed his eyes at her. Callen had teased and ridiculed him, of course, and by Monday, Sam would be in on the joke.

"It's not funny," he said, trying to keep a straight face.

She laughed harder.

"Monty and I not enough to keep you safe?" he asked lightly.

"Hmm, then who will keep you and Monty safe?" she joked, although her eyes were serious.

He almost smiled, starting to soften already. The last few weeks have been an adjustment for both of them and Kensi was apparently dealing by being even more obsessive about their safety… or rather, his safety, as if now that they were a couple it was her sole responsibility to keep him safe.

"You have your gun. What more do you need?"

"Just the extra gun, my dad's rifle, the knives, and my go-pack. Oh, and my nunchuks, but those were a gift… and I don't think I'll grab for them in a surprise attack, but you never know."

He closed his eyes briefly. He hadn't known about the nunchuks, but he supposed he should be glad there was no C4… or flamethrower.

"Seriously, isn't keeping a weapon inside or underneath every piece of furniture more dangerous? This house is a deathtrap."

"Was the gun holstered? Was the knife sheathed?"

He sighed. "Yes."

"Then no."

"You organized my music collection by preference," he bit out, not ready to concede.

She rolled over to the side and sat up, running her fingers through her tousled hair before sliding off the bed to stand in front of him.

"What's wrong with that?"

"YOURS!"

She laughed again, her eyes twinkling.

He grumbled his disapproval and kept frowning at her even when she came closer and angled her head a little to the left, stopping only when her lips were less than an inch from his.

"Can I have my coffee now?" she asked against his mouth.

"Fiend," he growled.

He put his arms around her and threw her back on the bed. She looked surprised for a second before wrapping her leg around him and rolled them over so she was on top. She laughed, the sound breathless and sexy as she leaned over him, but when he made a move to grab her, she scrambled away and off the bed.

Deeks' hand brushed the underside of her foot, tickling her accidentally when he grabbed for her ankle and she screeched before losing her balance and falling off the bed. He narrowed his eyes, feeling the adrenaline pump through him thanks to their little tussle, and he had a sudden urge to throw her back on the bed. She could squirm all she wanted after that.

The thought made him smile in anticipation.

"Deeks," she said, maybe sensing she'd just become prey, because her tone was a warning.

He watched her and didn't move, waiting to see what she would do.

Her eyes widened fractionally, and he grinned, feeling like he was being offered his favorite dessert. He'd expected her to go on the attack, but when she turned and crawled away fast before pushing off the floor, his smile widened. Even better, he thought as she sprinted out the door and he hurried after her.

"Deeks!" she screamed, rounding the couch and jumping over the coffee table in the living room. He hit his hip on the couch, but made sure to jump farther than she did. His outstretched hand almost touched her back as he landed and she screamed again.

Monty bounded out of the kitchen and Deeks grabbed Kensi and lifted her off the floor before she could trip over the dog.

"Put me down!" she yelled, struggling against him as he took a few steps back.

Smiling, he leaned down and kissed her neck. She pulled herself out of his grasp, managing only a few steps before he tackled her to the floor.

He didn't give her a chance, knowing exactly where she was ticklish and attacking her with nimble fingers.

Kensi went from screaming to laughing uncontrollably, tears forming in her eyes as she struggled.

"Deeks!"

She landed a quick punch and started wriggling away.

"Deeks, stop," she whispered breathlessly, still laughing. "Stop."

He dragged her back and she started laughing again even though he was no longer tickling her.

His heart was beating hard in his ears as he laughed and bit her neck again, holding on to the flesh between his teeth and ignoring her blows.

Her movements slowed, and he held on to her a little tighter, sensing her surrender.

She stilled, breathing hard.

He trailed kisses from her neck to her jaw as he watched her.

She looked up at him with big brown mismatched eyes, a frown on her forehead. He smoothed the hair back from her eyes as he chuckled at her indignation.

"Knew I could beat you in a fight."

Her expression was priceless and he had to bite his tongue not to laugh at her.

"Yeah, nice martial arts skills you have there, tickling," she humphed, her tone dismissive.

"You just remember these skills when you next mess with my clocks or watches," he threatened.

"Caveman," she whispered. When he laughed she glanced up to meet his eyes and added, "I also upgraded our emergency kits."

"What's wrong with the one NCIS supplied?" he asked, genuinely confused. They each had a go-pack with the necessary documentation and cash to use in case of emergency and rules they had to abide to. He had completed the training but hadn't had to use it yet, something he was very thankful for. He'd seen both Kensi and Callen go dark, if only for a short period of time, and he was hoping he'd never find himself in a similar situation, cut off from the team… cut off from Kensi.

"The protocols in place are mainly for us to be able to contact OSP, or leave a secure message, or disappear completely. You know that." She paused.

"You're being paranoid. Nothing's going to happen, Kens."

"I'm not saying that. But if anything does happen, we won't be able to reach each other. So, I made some changes. Cut-out, dead drops, contingencies. We'll have to go over it when we get the chance."

"Anything else?" he asked, slightly amused again.

"We can't tell Hetty," she grumbled and he laughed. They definitely couldn't tell Hetty, although he was sure nothing they did would ever come as a surprise to the woman.

"Anything else?"

"No... but I made you a key to my underground bunker."

"I knew it! I knew you had one!" He smiled widely, liking the idea. Sure, it was crazy to even have the bunker, but in the unlikely event something did happen he liked that she had thought about him, that she had made place for him in her crazy plans.

That she had made place for him, period.

He lifted her palm and kissed it.

"I'm glad I now have a damp, foul-smelling bunker to hide out in with you. Now how about we cut down on the, uh, weapon supply around here."

"Nope."

He sighed.

"But I guess I don't need a gun in the kitchen," she said grudgingly.

"Yeah? because Monty is always in there?"

She snorted indelicately. "No, because we have steak knives."

He shook his head in exasperation. "Does this mean I'm going to find the gun in the toilet tank?"

She laughed at his sour expression, reaching up with one hand to tug at his hair. She glanced at Monty who was still standing at attention a few feet away from them.

"I'm feeling pretty safe right now," she said with a shrug.

He froze.

"Don't move" he whispered, eyes wide and not breathing.

"What?" she whispered, completely still, but alert as she tried to identify the danger.

He listened for another second, before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, putting a hand on his heart in relief.

"What?!" she asked, pushing away and jumping up.

"I just thought I heard the pin fall out of the grenade you're keeping under the couch."

It was completely still for a second before he got a throw-pillow square in the face.