A/N: A little post-ep, speculating on what may happen after episode 9x14. Courtesy of my lurid imagination, a mix of Densi angst, comfort and smut (well, as much smut as I can manage). Title is taken from the song of the same name, "Carry you Home" by James Blunt, which really has nothing to do with this fic, but the sentiment seemed appropriate for Kensi and Deeks.

Carry You Home

"Gah, I think I've still got bits of Vietnam in my hair," Deeks says, giving his head a shake. Kensi ignores him completely, as expected, and sticks her hand out in his direction, in a wordless request for his house key. He hands over the whole keyring and ruffles his hair once more. All joking aside, he is feeling distinctly grimy after trekking through the less desirable sections of Vietnam, including Hetty's interrogation cell.

"I hope Hetty chooses someplace nicer next she's held captive," he adds and Kensi gives him a sharp look that usually means he should probably stop talking now. Well, he's never been particularly good as taking those kinds of hints so he continues as he slips off his shoes and jacket.

It feels great to be home even if it is 1 AM and his growling stomach is fighting for dominance with overwhelming exhaustion. Kensi heaves a sigh, wearing the same forlorn expression that's been in place since they started searching Hetty's belongings, and heads for their bedroom. Deeks mutters under his breath and hefts both their duffle bags over his shoulder, intent on following her until she tells him not to.

Right about now he's willing to do or say just about anything to make her smile even just a little bit. Or until she tells him to shut up. Either works. He drops their bags by the door, each making a satisfying thud.

"You know, maybe something in Paris or a swanky casino in Germany. I hear Baden-Baden is lovely this time of year."

"Deeks, that's not funny," Kensi says at last, her voice tight with emotion as she unzips her bag and yanks out a small ziplock containing travel-size toiletries.

"You have to admit it would be awesome to sneak in a few games of roulette while we're chasing down bad guys and infiltrating rat-infested bunkers," he answers lightly. Kensi draws in a short breath with her eyes closed and squeezes the bridge of her nose. It reminds him a little bit of his third grade teacher when got in trouble.

"You got shot, why are you joking about this?" she asks tiredly. He shrugs, strangely unaffected by his most recent brush with death which if he's being honest, wasn't that close. Kensi shakes her head, muttering something that doesn't quite make it to his ears as she continues to unpack.

The past few days her moods have been all over the place, which he totally gets, but it's a bit disconcerting not knowing if he's dealing with morose or ticked off beyond all belief. She seems content for the moment with ignoring him, another thing that's been happening a lot.

"I was wearing a vest so I don't think it really counts," he says in reply to Kensi's last question, drawing a sharp, shocked sound from her. His back hits the bedroom wall before he even has time to process that Kensi has bodily shoved him across the room. She presses her lips to his in a kiss that is nearly violent in its intensity and fists both hands into his hair.

"Why do you have to be so stupid?" she asks when she pulls back enough to look him in the eye. Obviously the question is rhetorical, since Kensi rolls her hips into his, drawing a surprised gasp from him. He drops a hand to her waist automatically, pulling Kensi even closer while she slides her hands from his hair, down his neck and settles them on his chest.

He feels a slightly dizzying mix of confusion, worry and desire as he places a hand on each of Kensi's hips and resists the urge to grind his growing erection against her thigh. Kensi ignores his attempt to put some space between them, instead pushing even closer until he can feel every inch of her pressed against his body.

Her fingers curl around the edges of his shirt, brushing the skin low on his abdomen as she yanks at the fabric, her movements becoming increasingly more frantic as she works to tug it over his head. She drops it on the floor with a soft thud and turns her attention to his newly revealed skin. Her eyes linger on the faint scars she's seen a thousand times, her fingers briefly touching each one before she turns her attention to the bruise that sits just right of his heart.

As far as bruises go, it's not all that bad; he's definitely had worse even wearing a vest.

"You were shot," Kensi repeats, maybe thinking he's forgotten given his indifferent attitude.

She presses one hand to the bruise, holding him in place with her gentle touch and runs her hand down his stomach, pausing briefly just above the waist of his jeans.

"You were shot and there was absolutely nothing I could," Kenis continues as she reaches for his jeans. One-handed, she unbuckles his belt, the barely there brushes of her fingers against his skin and the front of his jeans sending a shiver up his spine. She jerks the button from its hole almost violently and slips her hand beneath the edge of his boxers.

"Baby," he groans quietly into Kensi's ear which only seems to spur on her frantic movements as she wraps her fingers around his erection and softly squeezes. His head hits the wall with an embarrassingly loud thud. Apparently her desperation is contagious because suddenly he can only think of stripping off her clothes and feeling her wrapped around every part of him.

He clamps his hands around Kensi's thighs and spins her so she's pressed against the wall instead. Lowering his head, he breathes in the scent of sweat and Kensi's own unique smell that never fails to drive him crazy. Her legs wrap around his waist, replacing her hands with the exquisite heat of her center. He pushes her t-shirt up beneath her breasts, palming her back with both hands.

"What do you need, Kens?" he asks quietly.

"You, Deeks, I just need you right now," Kensi whispers back, her voice heartbreakingly raw and tears threatening to spill over eyelashes.

They wriggle out of their clothes, reluctant to part for too long and then Kensi wraps her legs back around him, urging him on with soft, insistent noises and her warmth rubbing against him. His first thrust draws a sharp cry from Kensi, stilling him until she urges him on with the firm pressure of her palms against his lower back.

Deeks thrusts slowly, keeping their bodies as closely aligned as possible as Kensi rocks against him in a steady rhythm. She whispers soft words, telling him how much she loves him mixed with incomprehensible apologies that make Deeks' heart ache. His hips stutter, a few tears sliding down his own cheeks which Kensi merely brushes away with her thumb.

"I love you," he sighs as they come together one last time and Kensi tightens around him, whispering his name. As they slide to the floor together in a tangled heap, for the moment they are whole.

A/N: Yes, this was supposed to be comfort sex with a side of 'yay, we're not dead'. Hopefully it wasn't too cringe worthy. I felt like Kensi's emotions were kind of a mess, with reason, in Cac Tu Nhan which I attempted to portray here.