"One more," Deeks says, voice raspy from sleep, pressing the snooze button for the third time.

Kensi keeps her eyes closed, burrowing deeper into her pillow. The fog of sleep still clouds her brain, but the snooze cycles have started to dissipate it a little.

Their trip to Europe had been crazy and awful, but Hetty was okay and Callen was safe. Their badges were back; their jobs were secure. Everything had fallen back into place.

She shifts a little closer to the man she loves. The man she loves (just thinking the word still makes her mouth turn up at the corners) who dropped everything to be with her, to support her, when she never even asked.

She drapes her arm over him and pulls herself closer. Her body presses against his, warming at every point of contact, her head turning as her nose finds his neck and she inhales.

She used to worry about being in a relationship, about giving her heart to someone who could break it. She thought it wasn't a gamble she wanted to make - not after what it had already been through; after the damage it had already sustained. But this time she knows the risk is worth it.

And, more than that, it doesn't actually feel like a risk at all. She trusts Deeks, believes in him, and knows in her heart that he would never, ever hurt her on purpose. He would never abandon her.

His alarm chimes for the fourth time that morning and he sighs, picking up the phone and silencing it.

"Jet-lag sucks. Bed is warm. You," he says, pressing a kiss to her head, "are warm."

He makes a move to get up but Kensi keeps her arm across his chest and nuzzles her nose deeper into his neck.

"Kens," he groans, equal parts protest and contentment.

She trails her fingertips over his skin. He's soft and smooth and warm and she wants to touch him forever.

"Stay?"

He sighs. "I can't. I'm already going to be on Bates' shit list because I took vacation instead of going under on that op. I'll be giving out traffic tickets for weeks." He squeezes her arm, trying to get her to move. "I can't be late."

"No, I mean," she says, pulling back so she can sit up, suddenly wide awake, her mind incredibly clear, "stay here. Don't go anymore."

He pushes up on his arm and even in the low light she can see his brow is furrowed in confusion. "Are you... are you asking me to move in with you?"

Her heart is racing but she's sure, so sure. She holds her breath and squeezes out the word, more nervous now than she was in the middle of their Romanian firefight. "Yes."

"Will I fit?"

She shoves him, smiling with relief. "Ass."

"Okay," he says, holding up a finger, "but on one condition."

"What's that?"

He points to her dresser "The peanut butter sandwich has to go."

"But I'm saving it."

"I'll make you a new one." He grins and dips his head, catching her lips in a kiss.

She sighs into it and leans back, Deeks' hand cushioning her head as he guides her back down to her pillow. He hovers above her and she slides her hand up his back and into his hair, her fingers tangling in the messy waves. She gives them a little yank and he tugs her bottom lip with his teeth.

"You should go to work."

"Yeah," he says as he starts to trail kisses down her jaw and toward her neck, "I should."

Well, Deeks thinks, sinking down into his chair, that could have gone worse. He could have come out with one less limb, or missing half his teeth.

He scrubs his hand over his face and takes a pull of the now less than lukewarm coffee waiting right where he had left it a little more than what seemed like ages ago, but in reality was only eight or ten minutes of really solid ass-chewing.

Being on the boss' bad side is crappy, but he's got to admit that even with the earful he just took he's still sure he did the right thing by leaving. And hell, a few weeks of being assigned the least desirable cases is preferable to going under for the next few months on an open-ended operation.

He shakes his head. He never used to think things like that. Undercover was everything to him. And now? Now it's not. He still loves the work, but he doesn't love the time it takes, doesn't love what it takes from him.

He remembers his taco date with Kensi on the beach. He'd thought about another life - a life where he spent the day undercover and the night under his own covers, wrapped in the arms of the woman he loves. Back then it had been foggy, but now when he pictures it the image his mind produces is so vivid, so specific. It's not an intangible, unimaginable future. It seems almost like reality. A reality he really, really wants.

His eyes scan the bullpen, taking in the other faces there. He tries to picture a future of desk work, tries to imagine what will be required of him if he tells Bates he doesn't want any more longterm ops. Maybe if he's coming home to Kensi it will be worth it.

He drops his head into his hands and sighs, his eyes falling on his desk as he does. Partially buried under a stack of papers is an envelope - the one he'd received before he took off to Prague. He sits up and sweeps the papers off the top of it. He'd completely forgotten about it. Hopefully it isn't time-sensitive.

He rips open the envelope and pulls out a handful of papers, a handwritten note falling onto his desk as he does.

It occurred to me that perhaps you refused my initial offer because it wasn't the right one, it says. You're better together.

Hetty.

That woman is eerily prescient. Here he is contemplating how to achieve the life he wants, and the means to do it is literally right under his nose.

He scoops up the papers and the note and pushes out of his chair, grabbing his keys as he accelerates towards the exit. He's halfway there before he realizes he forgot his coffee. He half looks back but then realizes his legs haven't stopped moving. That's when he smiles.

At least the legs know what's best for me, he almost laughs out loud at himself, even if my brain takes a couple of months to catch up.

Callen watches Sam's face contort. As long as his partner is frustrated with someone else, it's highly entertaining.

Actually, it's pretty amusing even when it's directed at him.

"It's the same thing!" Sam insists, eyes practically bulging out of his head.

"That's like saying a square and a rectangle are the same thing," Kensi says, her own frustration radiating off her in waves. "A square is a rectangle but a rectangle is not necessarily a square."

"The thing with the long trunk and the big ears," Sam says, holding his hands up to the side of his face in the most patronizing explanation possible, "is a pachyderm."

"I'm not disputing that! I'm saying it's not specific enough. You say 'pachyderm' and you could be talking about a rhinoceros. Or a hippo!"

Sam throws up his hands. "That's ridiculous. No one ever says pachyderm and means rhinoceros or hippo."

"That's because no one says pachyderm," says a new voice. Callen looks up to see Deeks entering the bullpen. "Just call it an elephant."

Sam makes a sound that's actually pretty close to an elephant.

"Deeks?" Kensi looks as surprised as Callen at her boyfriend's appearance. Maybe even more surprised.

"Hey, Wikipedia," he says. He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. "Can I borrow you for a minute?"

She frowns and stands. "Everything okay?"

He looks a little harried but he nods. "Yeah, just needed to talk to you."

"Be right back," she says to the room's occupants, resting her hand on the back of Deeks' arm and leading him down the hall.

Huh. Callen looks at his partner and raises his eyebrows.

Sam just shrugs.

Andrews is frowning, eyes still focused on the place Deeks and Kensi had been. "They let Agent Blye's boyfriend into the Mission?"

Callen shakes his head and returns his attention to his paperwork.

Kensi closes the burn room door behind them and turns to Deeks, anxiety building. "What happened? What's going on?"

Deeks opens his mouth to respond and then closes it, hesitating a moment before admitting, "Now that I think about it, this isn't actually something that requires me to interrupt your workday." He scratches his head, fluffing his already out-of-control hair even more. "I guess I got a little caught up."

"Okay," she says, but the feeling that's lodged itself in the pit of her gut doesn't abate. She frowns. He's had second thoughts. He wants to take it slower.

Suddenly she doesn't know what to do with her hands. They're heavy at her sides and she feels like she desperately needs something to hold. She rests one at the base of her neck and tucks the other into a pocket. She feels ridiculous. She probably looks ridiculous. Why is this happening? Why does she feel like she's drowning? What if she got it all wrong?

She drops her hands to her sides. "Listen, Deeks, about this morning. If you don't -"

"Oh, no, Kens, it's not - I still want to move in with you," he assures her.

She lets out a breath and the tension vanishes, unclenching her all the way to her toes. Her toes that she realizes were curled up. God, she's such an idiot sometimes. "Good. So what's going on?"

"I, uh," he hands her an envelope she hadn't even noticed he was carrying, "I got this from Hetty."

She grabs it and pulls out the papers from inside. It takes her only a second of scanning to figure out what they are.

"An application to become an agent?" Her head jerks up, anxious to read his expression. "Deeks, is this... Are you..?"

"I want to," he answers confidently. "But I wanted to talk with you first, to make sure it's -"

She grabs him and brings his lips to hers, cutting off whatever else he was going to say. Of course it's fine/okay/great - it's everything.

Her grin is so wide she can barely kiss him.

"Yes. Yes, I want you to become an agent." Her hands slide down his arms, finding his hands and grasping them. "That's what you want, really? What happened to it meaning you were giving up everything you are?"

"That's what I've always thought, but," he shrugs, "it's been awhile since I defined myself, I guess."

"Deeks..."

"I'm not who I was. I don't need to be a detective to be who I want to be, to do what I want to do. Being a cop was a label I felt comfortable with, felt right with, but if you look past that label and examine what it actually means, there's more to it. I want to help people, I want to protect people. I want to be one of the good guys - to fight for justice in the most literal sense. I can do all of that here, Kens. I can do it with you."

She grins. "We're going to be partners."

"You sure you don't want to keep Andrews?"

"Yes, but only because he's not as good of a kisser as you are."

He lifts an eyebrow and a slight grin creeps onto his mouth.

"I'm sure. Yes, I'm sure I'm sure."

She lifts her chin to kiss him again but he pulls back.

"Should we wait on moving in together?" he asks, the grin stolen away. "Should we see what it's like working together first?"

"Probably."

He nods. "Probably, yeah."

It's the right thing to do. They don't need to rush things, to go from having separate lives to fusing them completely in a matter of hours. What if they don't actually want to spend that much time together? What if they get sick of each other? What if it all falls to pieces? "But..."

"But?"

What if it doesn't?

"I don't want to wait," she says, squeezing his hands. "I love you. I know it seems crazy and maybe it is too fast, but maybe I don't want to waste another minute. We're good partners, Deeks. Great partners, even. We've proven that in the field. And out of the field? We're great there too. This morning we wanted to take that step forward. We were ready. I'm still ready. I'm all in."

"You just want to see this face all day every day." He sighs dramatically. "Can't say that I blame you."

"Deeks -"

"You think you should start calling me Marty?"

"No."

"No," he agrees, leaning forward to close the distance between them. "That would be moving too fast."

Almost four months later, Deeks steps into the bullpen, Kensi beside him. She gives him a bump on the hip and then makes her way to her desk, eyes bright and smiling.

"How was FLETC?" Sam asks. "They teach you a few things?"

"One or two." Deeks crosses the room and drops his messenger bag on the floor beside the spare desk. His desk. He swivels to face Sam. "Why? You want me to brush you up on all the new advances in the last few decades, Old Man?"

Sam snorts. "I keep up. It's that old man you need to tutor," he says, pointing to Callen.

Callen raises his hands. "If I don't know it, I don't need to know it. I'll let you guys fight the young criminals and I'll stick to battling the ones who aren't current on their craft."

"Sure," Kensi says, "we'll just interview them all before any pursuits, give you the lazy ones."

"If it's easier, I could just stay back and wait for your texts."

"So thoughtful."

There's a whistle from the top of the stairs and Deeks looks up to find Eric standing there, hands resting on the railing.

"We've got a case," he says. "Hetty wants the team up in ops."

"That's you, Deeks," Sam says, patting him on the shoulder before moving toward the stairs.

Kensi appears beside him and gives him a nudge. "Let's go, partner."

He grins as he watches her jog up the stairs, joining Sam and Callen at the landing. He can't make out their words, but their laughter carries.

Kensi turns back when she reaches the second floor and smiles at him, jerking her head in the direction of ops, an inquisitive look on her face.

Deeks smiles back.

"Let's go."

.

.

.

~ end ~

a/n: Hey, I made it! YOU made it! Thanks for sticking with me, guys. Your support and encouragement were greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoyed the ride ;)