Fracture Pattern: The Post-Game

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS:LA or its characters, but I did write and do lay claim to the events in Fracture Pattern, the story before this one.

"Ungughhh..."

The sound of was a bad combination of a cat hacking up a fur ball, a dump truck in low gear fighting up a hill, and an ice machine, with overtones of old-school dial-up.

And it was coming from the floor.

"Buh..." Callen licked his lips but due to the lack of moisture it felt like sandpaper against rock. He took a breath and tried again. "Bucket, not floor." He wheezed out.

"So...heavy." Deeks struggled to get his head high enough to edge over the rim of the garbage can. He managed to do so just in time for his stomach to launch part of last night's festivities into it. The limited amount of relief given to him propelled him to crawl from the floor back onto the sofa he'd fallen off of last night. His last act before melting into the cushions was to tuck his can on the floor below his head.

Bleary-eyed and stuffed up, Callen tried for a comforting smile but missed and grimaced across the space. He was curled up on the couch and had his own bucket in a similar position.

The light was blessedly diffused by the curtains that hung across the living room window. If the bright morning sunshine had been allowed to shine directly at their faces, they would have to add migraines to the list of their ailments. Callen's mouth was as dry as the desert, but the pile of bottled liquids was too far away and taunted him from their perch by the fireplace.

They had both fallen into a state of just-let-me-die coupled with I'm-too-tired-to-sleep when the front door was unlocked and in stomped an amused and entirely too cheerful Sam Hanna.

"Hey boys! So, what's caused this, the late night dip in the ocean, the running around in the rain, the extra shots, or the" Sam paused, excited to see the response to his next few words, "extra greasy, cheesy, spicy tacos last night."

The response was instantaneous as the last of the afore-mentioned tacos made their encore appearance into the buckets.

"They singed going down" Deeks gasped, "but they buuurn coming back up."

"Never trust the food from a truck that is clearly stealing its power from a closed business." Sam smiled and started unpacking the bags he'd carried in. First there were two travel mugs with lids which were followed by a measuring cup and a box. He pulled out the bottle of ginger ale and measured out two servings into each mug. He spun the lids back on and passed one to each of the groaning couch-surfers. "Drink up, Hetty's only giving you one day off."

"Ha, little does she know I'll be dead in a few hours." Deeks cradled his mug and stared up in defiance at Sam, goading him to respond. Sam just smiled and turned to Callen and shoved his mug at him.

Callen gave a weak thumbs-up to Deeks, wishing he could still talk but his tongue seemed to be glued to the top of his mouth. He found he could sit up and gulped down the ginger ale. Deeks, while being able to shoot one-liners still with only some difficulty, was having trouble moving and a little stream of ginger ale was dribbling down his face, not that he seemed to care.

Sam sensed that they had guzzled their drinks and snatched the mugs back. He set about refilling them, this time with a little bit of apple juice, and handing them back.

"Does it really matter how much juice you put in the cup?" Deeks sneered at Sam who still didn't rise to the challenge.

"I am following Hetty's orders, something you two should learn to do in the near future."

Callen started to roll his eyes, but his stomach started to feel funny and the room began to spin. His arm reached out for the bucket, but Sam already had it under his head. Callen stared at his toes and wiggled them; he was not going to give Sam the satisfaction of watching him hurl his cookies too. (They were double chocolate chip from a little stand on the beach and he was scared if they came back up, he wouldn't be able to eat them again which would be a shame because they tasted great.) The wiggling toes took his focus off his rolling stomach and it settled back down. He smirked at Sam who rolled his eyes.

It wasn't fair he could do that without puking. Callen would get him back for that.

Sam smiled and traded the bucket for the mug. Callen, still dry as a desert gulped back the juice. Sam went back to the table where he'd dropped his supplies and organized the remainder. He gathered the mugs back and refilled them one more time. He held his nose as he rinsed out the buckets and returned them to their posts. "I'm leaving the rest of the juice and ginger ale here along with a box of crackers. I'll be back in a couple of hours to check on you one more time. We'll see you tomorrow. Bye bye." Sam waved as he backed through the door, clearly amused by their situation and not even trying to hide it.

They both groaned and flopped back down, Callen stretched out on the full-size couch and Deeks curled up on the short sofa. Callen closed his eyes and tried to remember what all transpired to land them in this agony.

Yesterday afternoon

Callen jerked his head at Deeks across the desks. "That was Jim. He and the rest of the ATF team went through the money and about half of it traces back to a bank robbery. They didn't even bother to rebundle the money, just stacked it in the suitcase."

Deeks grinned. "I knew it wasn't donated...by choice. We should celebrate this good news."

Callen matched Deeks' smile. "We should – you were otherwise occupied the first night and Hetty's kept us busy every other night. Let's take advantage of tonight's clear schedule." He turned to Kensi, "You in?"

Kensi let out a snort. "No. I have plans that do not include cheap food from trucks and cheaper booze."

"I'm insulted. You are no longer invited." Deeks stuck his nose up in the air. "Sam?"

"Date night." Sam appeared to not be paying attention as he furiously typed away on his keyboard. "Can't be late."

"Married people are so boring." Callen planted his elbows on the desk and watched for a response. Sam clenched his jaw, but didn't say anything. "Fine. Deeks, it's you and me. Festivities start..." Callen stared at his watch as the second hand traveled around "now!"

Sam leapt up from his desk and ran out towards the door. Hetty appeared in his path. "Where are you going?"

"Day's over." Sam squinted at his boss and then his shoulders tensed and he slowly turned back to face the three still at their desk. "No it isn't." He stalked back to his seat and pulled his chair in.

Kensi raised her eyebrows and spun her head to face a silently laughing Callen. "That was mean."

"Ha. He fell for it." Callen watched as Deeks carefully slid his phone back into his pocket. A quiet 'ding' sounded on Callen's computer and he opened the email attachment. He muted his volume and watched Sam's bolt for the door and return instant-reply style. He winked at Deeks who was 'busy' 'filling out paperwork'.

When the work-day was actually over, Sam grabbed his bag and left without a word. Deeks leaned closer to Callen and whispered "If he had hair, he would've flipped it as he waltzed out."

Kensi rolled her eyes. "Good night. Don't call me when you get into trouble."

"Ignore her, let's go have some fun." Callen grinned and Deeks matched it.

Yesterday evening

"I am the king of darts." Deeks flung his arms in the air and spun in a circle.

"You're definitely the king of dorks." Callen grumbled as he pulled his darts out of the board and glared at the Deeks' tight grouping in the centre.

"Drink, my friend, for tonight, you lose!" Deeks waggled a shot glass in front of Callen's face. He grabbed it and threw it back, sticking his tongue out at the laughing detective.

"This was a terrible idea. What do you call this cup of rancid?"

"A 5-10-15. You take the 5th bottle on the first row, the 10th on the second, and the 15th on the third and mix them together. Obviously you have to correct based on the number of rows and bottles, but the theory's the same and it always tastes like drain cleaner." Deeks sipped away at his glass as he smirked.

"I challenge you to a game of darts..." When Deeks' face lit up, Callen held up his hand. "This time, we're going to do it while leaning sideways."

This evened the playing field, especially when they continued to find new and inventive angles to throw the darts from. The manager of the bar finally threatened to throw them out when Callen almost took out one of his bottles of expensive scoth with a wildly thrown dart, but by then they were done drinking anyway. No sense in having too much, then they'd be in pain from the hangover and being raked over the coals by Hetty.

"It's a bit chilly out here...good thing my system's full of anti-freeze." Deeks giggled into the wind.

Callen started to tilt and veer to the left before he leaned against a pole. "I think we should get some food."

Deeks rubbed his head where the low-hanging flower pot bounced into it thanks to his sudden turn caused by Callen's veering. "I concur. Look! It's Paco-Taco!"

Together they lurched over to the food truck and rejoiced at the 'Dirty Dozen' deal. They argued over whether they would split an order, or each get their own. They ended up deciding to get one order and come back if they were still tipsy or hungry. The twelve tacos had a mix of fillings – hence the 'dirty', or so they were told – and split them according to their preferences. They celebrated the occasion by texting Sam a picture.

Present

Deeks stared up at Callen's living room ceiling as he digested all the liquid he had just drank. He knew his system needed it, but he dreaded the forthcoming trip to the bathroom. He swiveled his head on the pillow to look over at Callen who had his eyes shut and evenly sucking in air and pushing it back out. He snuggled further down into the cushions and relived the previous night…or early morning.

Sometime around midnight, plus or minus an hour or two

"Mmm, tacos…" Callen sat in his sand chair, balancing the second Dirty Dozen order on his stomach.

Deeks finished packing down the sand and smoothing it down into his own chair. "Those are to share."

Indignant, Callen frowned at Deeks. "I know. I'm eating the ones that are getting cold." He passed over Deeks' share to him who wolfed down the first couple and then enjoyed the last ones. Callen picked up his last one and karma came for him.

The end of the taco exploded juice and grease onto his hand and it ran down his arm. Deeks burst out laughing. "That's what you get when you try to taco-hog!"

Callen glared at him and stuffed the rest of the mess of shell and filling into his mouth. "Ay emm naw eh taughoo haugh!"

"Hetty would be ashamed of you. Don't talk with your mouth full."

Callen rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the sand and then groaned. Sand was stuck to all the grease and juice. Deeks just laughed. Callen flicked some of the wet sand at him and trudged down to the ocean. Deeks chewed the last bite of his tacos and followed him.

He would swear up and down that it was an accident.

But it wasn't.

It was just too perfect to ignore.

Callen was bent down, trying to catch the edge of a wave to clean off his arm and Deeks just…nudged him…right into a breaker.

Guilt set in pretty quick and Deeks held out his hand to help him out, only to be helped in.

Years of surfing gave him the in-bred instinct to shut his mouth before it filled with salt water. He rolled over to sit in the water and looked over at a laughing Callen. They flicked some water at each other before agreeing to stop and get out of the chilly waves.

"Uh oh." Callen pulled his phone out of his pocket and watched the water drip off of it. Deeks pulled his out and watched the same thing happen. He bunched his eyebrows together and gave a 'whoopsie?' half-smile. Callen eyed the boardwalk and tipped his head. "Good thing they still have payphones. And I have a couple of quarters." They slogged their way up the beach towards the phone booth. Callen popped a quarter in the slot and waited. He gave Deeks a thumbs-up when he got a dial tone. He punched in Sam's number.

Deeks watched and listened to Callen's side of the conversation.

"Hey Sam, we had a bit of a problem. Our phones are wet and we should get a ride home…How?...Uh…They went in the ocean...How? Well, it wasn't on purpose…Sam…Fine. They were in our pockets…Yes. That means we went in the ocean…Hey! It was an accident. If you had come then we would have had someone to watch our backs, but nooooo….hello? hello?" Callen slammed the phone down and turned to Deeks. "He hung up on me! You call him." He held out a quarter.

Deeks shrugged and stepped into the booth. He dropped the quarter in, waited for the dial tone and tapped the number in. "Hi Sam? How was date night?"

"It was quite nice, thank you." Sam sounded cordial and rational, so Deeks kept going.

"We took a bit of dip in the ocean and our phones are wet. Hetty needs to know."

"That's very responsible."

"Thanks, do you think you could pick us up?"

"No way on this green earth." Sam still sounded polite, but the clank of the line being closed rang in his ear. He turned back to Callen and bit his lip. "Nope."

Callen shrugged and Deeks hitched a shoulder up. "I guess we get a taxi." Callen tried to wave one down, but the driver took one look at the drowned men, locked his doors, and drove off.

"I guess it couldn't get much worse." Deeks sighed as they started up the road.

No?

Then it started raining.

Present

Deeks leaned against the wall as he walked back to the couch from the bathroom, thankful that Callen's idea of decorating wasn't to hang pictures. On the plus side, the rain had soaked everyone and a taxi took pity on them and drove them to Callen's house, which was closer. There was a hefty tip added after a glare from the driver, but finally they were inside and able to change into dry clothes.

He paused at the end of the hallway and eyed his target. A little bit of self-encouragement and he lurched across the open space to drop down on the centre of the sofa. He watched as Callen struggled to push himself off the couch and then make the same trek to the bathroom. Deeks sighed and fell sideways onto the cushions.

He deserved a nap.

Early that morning

"That guy was not going to let us out until he got the money he wanted." Callen shook his head – which showed his amusement and sprayed drops of water off of it.

"To be fair, you do smell like a dead fish...and not one that's been filleted and pan-seared." Deeks smirked and shut the door behind himself.

"And whose fault is that?" Callen raised an eyebrow.

"The guy who built your taco." Deeks wandered towards the kitchen. "I am thirsty!"

"There's a jug of juice and some water bottles in the fridge."

"What would Hetty say about your plastic bottles, hmm?"

"The same thing she'd say about you dumping the paper bag from the cookies into the garbage and not the recycling bin."

"Touché. Cups?"

"Cupboard beside the window, middle shelf." Callen waved in the general direction as he dug out the drinks. He brought them into the living room but quickly set them down before sneezing. He headed back into the kitchen to dig out a box of tissues and blew his nose. But when the pile of used tissues started to stack up and his nose wasn't clear, he hauled the garbage can out of the cupboard and dropped it beside the couch. He plopped down on the couch and perched the box on the armrest.

Deeks sipped from a cup of juice and frowned. He stuck his hand to his hot forehead. "Uh oh."

"Mh mhh!" Callen ran from the room and dashed down the hallway.

Deeks listened as the sound of Callen emptying his stomach worked its way to his ears. "Want me to hold back your hair...heh heh heh..." Deeks chortled...but a strange gurgling noise sounded in his stomach. "Uh oh." He launched himself towards the kitchen sink and heaved. He rested his head against the cool counter top and counted in Spanish, trying to settle his uneasy stomach. His hand grasped for the faucet handle and he continued to breathe as the water washed his meal down the pipes. He heard the flush of a toilet and Callen's uneven steps back up the hallway.

"We're in trouble." Callen wheezed as he dragged two buckets towards the living room.

Deeks pushed himself off the cabinets and stumbled after Callen. He pulled the top bucket out of the bottom and hugged it to his chest as he aimed for the sofa. "No talking, more sleeping."

They collapsed on their respective comfy cushions and gave into the exhaustion pulling them down.

Present

Callen heard the phone ring but refused to acknowledge it. It tapered off and he smiled. Then it started up again and he groaned.

"Phone." The muffled word came from across the room.

Callen worked his way deeper into the cushions. It started ringing again. He pulled a pillow over his head. He could still hear it.

"It'ss prob'ly Hetty."

"So?" Callen forced out the word.

"S'your house."

The sound of a key turning in the lock saved him. As soon as he heard a heavy boot drop on the floor, Callen called "Sam, phone!"

A chuckle reached their ears, but the incessant ringing stopped. "Hetty, can you hear me?" Sam's voice reverberated through the room. "I'll put you on speaker."

"Hello. How are we doing?" Hetty's voice came through the phone.

"Fine." Deeks groused into his pillow.

"I'm sure. We received a notice from the health department that was sent out to all federal and state agencies in the area. Paco-Taco has been cited for numerous health and criminal code violations. They've issued a BOLO and requested our help in spreading the alarm about the contaminants in their 'Dirty Dozen'. Would you know anything about that?" Hetty's monologue was interspersed with snorts from Sam. Callen suspected he was trying to hold back his laughter. "I'll take your silence as a 'yes'. As I thought. The suggested course of action is activated charcoal to remove the offending food from your system as soon as possible following ingestion."

Sam spoke up, "I think the whiskey took care of that."

"I agree. It also should have also counteracted the effects of any lingering bacteria. The report states that the symptoms mirror that of a 24-hour flu." Hetty added.

"So they should be fine at..." Sam pulled out his own phone and scrolled to the picture they had sent him "12:56 tonight."

"I expect to see you in your desk chairs at 9 a.m. tomorrow. Have a restful night." Hetty's voice offered no room for argument as she ended the call.

"As long as the chair doesn't move, I'm on board." Deeks muttered into the arm he had thrown over his face. "Hey, I think my fever's gone." He rolled onto his side and soon soft snores were the only sounds from that side of the room.

Sam looked over at Callen and raised an eyebrow. "How about next time you want to celebrate, have a barbeque in your backyard."

Callen squinted at his grinning partner as he backed out of the house and locked the door behind him. As Callen drifted off to sleep, he thought to himself that maybe Sam had a point. What could go wrong with a barbeque?

Fin