Quiet [NCIS:LA, Deeks/Kensi]
Title: Quiet
Genre: Friendship, Romance
Summary: The tv plays on in the background. Sometimes they watch, sometimes they don't. Sometimes they talk and sometimes they don't. And it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
Characters/ Pairings: Deeks/Kensi; Deeks POV
Spoilers: Episode tag to 2x20 The Job, so spoilers for that.
Warnings: None
Rating: K/FR 7/PG
Disclaimers: I don't own NCIS:LA or any of its characters.
A/N: Enjoy! Reviews are always appreciated. :)
-_-_-_-
He tries not to notice the closeness--the way her arm reaches around behind him, the way her fingers brush his as she opens his beer bottle, the way her shoulder's just inches from his. He tries not to notice the way she giggles at some of the outrageous things the people on the show say. He tries to keep from sneaking sideways glances at her. He tries not to think how cute she is when she leans forward, biting her lip, staring intently at the screen, waiting for the judges to make a decision. He tries to keep from laughing as she gets riled up at the tv and he yells right along with her.
Seeing her here now, it's...well, so different from how she is at work. He's seen a lot of sides of Kensi, of course, but this relaxed and normal side of her is one he hasn't seen often. He's just glad the pain of the day's events is fading from her eyes. It's hard, but she's tough and she'll bounce back. They've got her back and they'll make sure of it. He'll make sure of it.
The night wears on and the credits roll and he makes no move to leave. She doesn't make him.
The tv plays on in the background. Sometimes they watch, sometimes they don't. Sometimes they talk and sometimes they don't. And it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
-_-_-
Deeks wakes with a start. Light's streaming in from every crack, escaping from under doorways and in through slits in the curtains. He's stiff and sore all over. His back's protesting spending the night slouched on a couch. His right arm has lost all feeling from the weight of a slumbering Kensi pushed up against him. Making a mental note to tease her about it, he takes a second to enjoy the view. Her dark hair's a mess and her mascara ran, but she looks so peaceful sleeping.
He wonders how many guys get this lucky, to fall asleep and wake up next to Kensi Blye.
He could get used to this.
He's still in a daydream daze when his gaze settles on the ugly bruise to the left side of her jaw. He feels a knot form in his stomach that's equal parts fear and fury. Memories of the day before blaze past his eyes.
He remembers the raw emotion ripping through his gut as the explosion happened. He remembers the smell and the taste of the smoke. He remembers the feeling, though he can't quite put it into words now. That feeling of horror, of terror, of I'm-going-to-kill-King-if-he-hurt-Kensi.
He remembers Callen's frantic instructions and questions to Eric.
He remembers the run; blood pounding in his ears, his throat scratchy and dry, Sam almost passing him by.
He remembers the sharp, involuntary intake of breath as he looks at the smoldering wreckage.
He remembers the panicked moments spent searching the carnage for Kensi and trying to ignore the very-real possibility that she was dead.
And he remembers the tiny trickle of hope when they realize she could have survived after all.
He's jerked out of his memories as Kensi comes to life, startling with a violent jerk and nearly knocking him off the couch.
“Ow.”
“Sorry, sorry, I didn't realize it was you...”
Embarrassed Kensi. So adorable.
“Hey! What are you still doing here?” She leaps to her feet and glowers down at him.
Aggravated Kensi. Somehow, almost as cute.
“Go, go! I have to get ready for work. We can't go together. We can't be late! I'd never live it down!”
He raises his hand in an 'I surrender' gesture. “Ok, ok, going. You're crabby in the morning.”
He's almost to the door when he hears her call his name.
“Yeah?”
He turns back and she's standing in the kitchen doorway, looking at him, a small smile on her lips “Thanks.”
He smiles back. “Welcome.”
-End-
Genre: Friendship, Romance
Summary: The tv plays on in the background. Sometimes they watch, sometimes they don't. Sometimes they talk and sometimes they don't. And it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
Characters/ Pairings: Deeks/Kensi; Deeks POV
Spoilers: Episode tag to 2x20 The Job, so spoilers for that.
Warnings: None
Rating: K/FR 7/PG
Disclaimers: I don't own NCIS:LA or any of its characters.
A/N: Enjoy! Reviews are always appreciated. :)
-_-_-_-
He tries not to notice the closeness--the way her arm reaches around behind him, the way her fingers brush his as she opens his beer bottle, the way her shoulder's just inches from his. He tries not to notice the way she giggles at some of the outrageous things the people on the show say. He tries to keep from sneaking sideways glances at her. He tries not to think how cute she is when she leans forward, biting her lip, staring intently at the screen, waiting for the judges to make a decision. He tries to keep from laughing as she gets riled up at the tv and he yells right along with her.
Seeing her here now, it's...well, so different from how she is at work. He's seen a lot of sides of Kensi, of course, but this relaxed and normal side of her is one he hasn't seen often. He's just glad the pain of the day's events is fading from her eyes. It's hard, but she's tough and she'll bounce back. They've got her back and they'll make sure of it. He'll make sure of it.
The night wears on and the credits roll and he makes no move to leave. She doesn't make him.
The tv plays on in the background. Sometimes they watch, sometimes they don't. Sometimes they talk and sometimes they don't. And it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
-_-_-
Deeks wakes with a start. Light's streaming in from every crack, escaping from under doorways and in through slits in the curtains. He's stiff and sore all over. His back's protesting spending the night slouched on a couch. His right arm has lost all feeling from the weight of a slumbering Kensi pushed up against him. Making a mental note to tease her about it, he takes a second to enjoy the view. Her dark hair's a mess and her mascara ran, but she looks so peaceful sleeping.
He wonders how many guys get this lucky, to fall asleep and wake up next to Kensi Blye.
He could get used to this.
He's still in a daydream daze when his gaze settles on the ugly bruise to the left side of her jaw. He feels a knot form in his stomach that's equal parts fear and fury. Memories of the day before blaze past his eyes.
He remembers the raw emotion ripping through his gut as the explosion happened. He remembers the smell and the taste of the smoke. He remembers the feeling, though he can't quite put it into words now. That feeling of horror, of terror, of I'm-going-to-kill-King-if-he-hurt-Kensi.
He remembers Callen's frantic instructions and questions to Eric.
He remembers the run; blood pounding in his ears, his throat scratchy and dry, Sam almost passing him by.
He remembers the sharp, involuntary intake of breath as he looks at the smoldering wreckage.
He remembers the panicked moments spent searching the carnage for Kensi and trying to ignore the very-real possibility that she was dead.
And he remembers the tiny trickle of hope when they realize she could have survived after all.
He's jerked out of his memories as Kensi comes to life, startling with a violent jerk and nearly knocking him off the couch.
“Ow.”
“Sorry, sorry, I didn't realize it was you...”
Embarrassed Kensi. So adorable.
“Hey! What are you still doing here?” She leaps to her feet and glowers down at him.
Aggravated Kensi. Somehow, almost as cute.
“Go, go! I have to get ready for work. We can't go together. We can't be late! I'd never live it down!”
He raises his hand in an 'I surrender' gesture. “Ok, ok, going. You're crabby in the morning.”
He's almost to the door when he hears her call his name.
“Yeah?”
He turns back and she's standing in the kitchen doorway, looking at him, a small smile on her lips “Thanks.”
He smiles back. “Welcome.”
-End-