NOT OVER YOU by MioneAlterEgo

DISCLAIMER: So disclaimed, baby.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This plot bunny attacked me in the middle of trying to complete the multi-chapter Nell/Callen fic I've been working on. Darned bunny wouldn't leave me alone so my beta/sounding board/deadline-enforcer/fandom BFF imahistorian (aka Mel) gave me permission to go ahead and get this out of my system. (Incidentally, if you're not reading/following her brilliant story Truth Be Told you're missing out. BIG TIME. Just sayin', you should get on that. Anyway...) Inspired by the song "Not Over You" by Gavin DeGraw, but not song-fic as such. Reviews are (as always) welcomed, treasured, and loved forever. Enjoy!

It was premeditated. That was the worst part, really. Had they been drunk, or if they were trying to sell a cover, or if he'd tripped and fallen and his lips just happened to land on hers, that might have been one thing. But he'd planned it, or at least thought about it. Kensi was certain of that. Deeks had taken her out for a beer on a Friday night—nothing out of the ordinary—but at the end when she turned to him to say goodnight he'd leaned in and kissed her. Trapping her like that was unforgivable.

What was even more unforgivable was the way she'd surrendered to the kiss immediately—the gentle insistence of his lips on her own, the heat of his body, his hand cradling her cheek, the quiet moan that had escaped her and the way she leaned into him. It was completely unacceptable. All of it.

When she realized what was happening, Kensi had pulled back immediately. She muttered something about washing her hair and practically slammed the door in his face. When he didn't knock or call after her, she slid down against the door, half relieved and half disappointed.

He didn't hear from her for the rest of the weekend.

Monday morning found Deeks in the gym and Kensi at the firing range, twin studies in the avoidance of paperwork, conversation, and eye contact. They sat at their desks never looking at one another, though Callen was sure Kensi was slouched farther down in her chair than usual and Sam would've sworn he caught Deeks shooting a half angry, half hurt look at Kensi's back as she walked upstairs to Ops without a word to any of them. They spoke only when spoken to, addressed one another only when necessary, and paid no notice to the looks of concern and confusion etching the faces around them.

The next morning Hetty quietly peeked into the gym to find Kensi pounding the hell out of the heavy bag. She frowned as the younger woman landed three punches to the bag, each weaker than the last, before sinking to her knees on the mat beneath her. Kensi swore fluently under her breath, the sound magnified somewhat as it echoed off the hard surfaces of the space. Hetty shook her head in dismay as she turned to make her way back to her office. She was disappointed but not surprised to note Deeks still wearing his sunglasses and dragging his feet as he entered the building a full fifteen minutes late. An angry, defeated Kensi and a hung-over Deeks would spell a long day for all present.

They were, however, professionals. By the third day, they'd managed to adopt a veneer of cool indifference. For nearly two weeks they completed their assignments and suspect interviews and ran down leads with no animosity visible to the naked eye, which only added to the unease of the rest of the team. The longer the tension builds under the surface, the bigger the disruption when it breaks in the end. In a city well-acquainted with destructive seismic events, it was enough to put them all on notice.

This didn't stop anyone from speculating, however. Hypotheses were proposed. Ideas were voiced. The popular theory was that they'd gotten drunk and gone to bed together, only to wake up to an exceptionally awkward morning after. Only an active and healthy fear of their Operations Manager kept other teams from placing actual monetary wagers on the cause and/or outcome of the rift between the partners.

By the time the next undercover assignment came in, requiring both Kensi's fluency in Portuguese and contact through an old alias of Callen's, the tension between Junior Agent and LAPD Liaison was thick and stifling. Kensi and Callen would go undercover as a newlywed couple on a rented yacht captained by a man suspected of selling stolen naval blueprints to a Brazilian fringe militia group with extremist ties. It was dangerous. It was a long-shot. Both were agents were separated from their usual partners and at sea any backup or rescue vessels would be, by necessity, miles away. Kensi would no doubt be expected to don a bikini, flirt, kiss, and otherwise catch the attention of a dangerous criminal. And she couldn't have been more ready to go if she'd actually tried.

Deeks' scowl could be heard across the room.

Three days into the operation, Nell and Deeks were in the Ops center watching the video feed from the camera Sam and Eric had managed to smuggle on board during a "routine" Coast Guard inspection of the boat before it left port. Nell fidgeted anxiously with the solitaire ring on her left hand as she watched Callen plant a passionate kiss on Kensi in full view of both camera and captain.

"I know there's nothing between them," she began quietly, "but it's still weird to watch."

Deeks gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder but didn't reply.

"What about you?" she continued, cautiously fishing for information. "How are you holding up with all this?"

"I'm fine," Deeks muttered, eyes never leaving the screen.

"Don't you miss not having your regular partner?"

"Sam's good at what he does. We're starting to figure things out. I don't think about it too much."

Later that evening, Kensi sat on the deck of the boat, drinking and flirting shamelessly with the captain as she tried to coax any information at all from the man. Callen took the opportunity to phone Ops and check in. He breathed a sigh of pent-up frustration when Eric answered the call.

"Hey man, how's it going?"

"It's going," Callen answered. "Kensi's with Cabral now. We think we know who his contact is, but we haven't been able to find where the documents are hidden. How are things on land?"

"About the same as before," Eric grumbled. "Denial isn't just a river in Egypt."

"Same here. I mean, Kensi's a born operator. She's selling the role like you wouldn't believe. But she's preoccupied. I've never seen her more distracted. Any more ideas as to what happened between her and Deeks?"

"I got nothing. Nell keeps trying to weasel him into giving something away, but he's being uncharacteristically tight-lipped."

"How is she?" Callen asked, his voice growing quiet.

"Nell? She's okay. Worried about you."

"Tell her we'll be back as soon as we can. Being stuck in close quarters with Miss Congeniality here isn't my idea of a good time, either."

"Will do. You two be careful out there."

The feed closed and Eric heard a faint shuffling noise behind him. He glanced up just in time to see Deeks with an unreadable expression on his face turning to leave the room.

Days passed. Kensi seemed to relax into the mission and Deeks seemed to lighten up in her absence, which was extremely off-putting given that there appeared to be no logical explanation for the shift. Callen and Kensi completed their mission successfully, retrieving the stolen blueprints, arresting the captain of the yacht, and (with the help of the real Coast Guard and the NCIS San Diego office) apprehended several of his accomplices, including a couple of Petty Officers who'd helped smuggle the documents off base in the first place. When Hetty announced that Agents Blye and Callen would be returning to OSP the next day, sighs of relief were breathed by 75% of the team; Deeks only nodded and quietly excused himself from the room.

The next morning cheers could be heard from the bullpen as the whole team greeted Kensi and Callen as they sauntered in from the back entrance of the building, yawning and dragging their go-bags behind them. Hugs and handshakes were exchanged, along with an unusually demonstrative kiss between Callen and Nell, before the room fell silent. Kensi and Deeks were standing facing one another, and despite the fact that they were at least five feet apart the air between them all but crackled with electricity. Sam, Eric, Nell, and Callen looked on in stunned silence.

"Welcome back," Deeks offered, voice gravelly and emotionless.

"Thanks," Kensi returned quietly. When Deeks didn't respond Kensi glanced away, breaking the stalemate as she reached down to retrieve her bag. Rather than defuse, the electric charge that had settled between them seemed to disperse through the whole space, keeping everyone on edge. "I'm just going to go put my stuff up," Kensi explained to the room at large. As she turned to go, four pairs of uneasy eyes drifted to Deeks. His eyes followed her out of the room as the expression of disappointed anger began to settle back onto his face. He took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders and shaking his head slightly. A decision had been made, and without a word he followed Kensi's path down to the women's locker rooms.

She was sitting on a bench staring blankly at the wall in front of her, but when Deeks walked in without preamble and locked the door behind him she was on her feet in seconds.

"What the hell are you doing? Women's locker room, Deeks."

"No. We're going to talk about this."

"About what? There's nothing to say."

"The hell there's not, Kensi."

"Fine. So say something."

"I'm not sorry."

Her eyes flew up to his, widening almost imperceptibly. "What?"

"I'm not sorry for kissing you. And I'm not going to apologize for it, so if that's what you're waiting for, you're going to be waiting for a long time."

"It should never have happened, Deeks. We're partners. We can't—"

"Can't what?" he interrupted. "Be involved outside the office? Have feelings for one another? Because I think we both know it's a little late for that."

"No, it's not," she replied, voice flat. "You're the only one here who seems to have trouble keeping your emotions in check."

"You're lying."

"No."

"Yeah, you are," he growled, taking a step forward. Kensi held her ground but couldn't stop the shiver that ran down her spine when Deeks' hand reached up and swept her hair behind her shoulder, fingers lightly grazing her neck as he did so. His voice dropped to a loaded whisper. "You're just as deep in this as I am."

She shook her head and pointedly locked her eyes on a paint spatter on the wall behind him, avoiding the honesty and heat she knew she'd find in his unrelenting gaze. "No," she whispered. "I can control this. We can get past it."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Deeks," she pleaded.

"What if you don't want to?" He took another half step closer. Kensi could feel the heat and nervous tension rolling off of him in waves, and she could feel the hairline fractures in her resolve split wider with every passing second.

"I DO want to get past it," she lied. "I don't want to break this. Us. I want to go back to what we had. It was good. Really good. I want that back, that's all I want."

"What if there was something better?"

She screwed her eyes shut and shook her head defiantly. "There isn't. There can't be."

"You don't believe that."

"Yes I do!" Her voice cracked slightly, the betrayal of unchecked emotion shaking her confidence even further. Her breath hitched and caught in her throat when Deeks' hands cupped her face, but when her eyes finally met his Kensi was stunned into inaction by what she saw.

Frustration. Fear. Determination. Longing. Hope. And something so deep and warm and indescribable she wasn't sure she could have put a name to it if she'd tried. His quiet, strangely confident words yanked her back to reality.

"Then why did you kiss me back?"

"I didn't…"

"Yeah. You did. And it was incredible," he breathed.

"It didn't mean anything, Deeks. It was just a kiss."

"Prove it."

A cold trickle of apprehension ran down her spine. "What?"

"You say it was just a kiss and it didn't mean anything, so prove it. Kiss me again. Convince me it was nothing."

"Kiss you again? I didn't kiss you, remember? You kissed me, so—"

And any further argument she might have made beyond that died on her tongue, shoved forcibly from her mind when Deeks lowered his head and covered her lips with his own. One strong, sure hand slid around to the back of her head, fingers threading through the soft strands while the other traced a path down her neck, shoulder, arm, then around to the small of her back as Deeks pulled Kensi's body fully against him. His head tilted, deepening the kiss, and when he nipped gently at her lower lip Kensi could no longer hold back the whimper that escaped her.

Denial crashed and shattered around her as her hands reached forward to grab and twist into the fabric of his t-shirt. It was all the leverage she needed to pull herself forward and keep her lips connected to his. She felt Deeks sigh in relief as his tongue pressed against hers, each of them twisting and tugging as they fought to deepen the kiss, to press a little closer, to hold the other in place for as long as possible.

Their embrace bordered on desperate as hands sought, breaths mingled, and lips demanded. So lost was Kensi in the moment that she didn't realize Deeks had backed her against the lockers till she felt the cool metal through the fabric of her shirt. His hands grasped at her hips as he trailed kisses along the corner of her mouth to her cheekbone, the bridge of her nose, her jaw line, before finally stopping to nip at her earlobe. A shiver of pleasure shot through her and when he whispered against her ear she actually trembled in his arms.

"Say it again, Kens," he murmured. "Tell me it means nothing."

And maybe it was exhaustion from the mission, or the gentle, insistent stroke of his thumbs against her sides, or the aching tenderness in his voice as he spoke, but Kensi felt the unwelcome sting of tears against the back of her eyes, and she froze. She couldn't do it. She knew she couldn't say the words, couldn't deny it any longer. Instead, she let one hand drift slowly up Deeks' chest to rest over his heart as she turned her head slightly till her nose nudged against his, eyes still closed against the tempest of feelings within. She drew in a slow, shuddering breath before pressing her lips to his once more.

Gone was the desperation and hunger of the kiss a moment before, replaced with a slow, steady outpour of emotion, of apology and absolution, plea and promise, each entreaty answered carefully and in kind. When they finally broke apart, reluctantly surrendering to the need to breathe, Deeks' forehead dropped to rest against Kensi's.

"I tried to forget it," she whispered. "I tried so hard to convince myself that it never happened, so maybe we could just go back to how we were, but I couldn't get over it. I couldn't stop thinking about it. About you."

"I tried, too," Deeks sighed. "I knew you didn't want it, so when you left I tried to forget. And it almost worked. But the minute you walked back in the door upstairs it all came crashing back. I don't want to forget it, Kensi. Even if I wanted to, which I don't… I could never forget kissing you. And I'd never be able to stop wanting to do it again."

"Leaving with things the way they were between us—at first it was a relief, but the longer I was gone the more wrong it seemed. I wanted my partner back. But I want this, too."

"You've got me. Partners, friends, partners-and-friends-who-have-lots-of-mind-blowing-sex. All of it. Whatever you want."

Deeks felt Kensi's body shake with quiet laughter as she let her head drop to his shoulder. An easy silence fell between them as Kensi relaxed in his embrace, his hands stroking gently up and down her back, each of them reveling in finally being able to hold onto the other. After several quiet moments, Kensi spoke again.

"You really think we can do this? Can we do this and still be us?" she asked, a faint hint of uncertainty edging into her voice. Deeks' arms tightened around her waist.

"I think we can figure it out, Partner."

And for the first time in weeks, Kensi felt a genuine smile pull at her cheeks as her lips found his once more. "I guess we always do."