A/N: This is my first multi-chapter fic, so bear with me as I battle the ups and down of committing to something longer than a chapter. Reviews are totally welcome and will only motivate me to write more, so please tell me what you like and/or what I can work on. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS: Los Angeles.

"Kensi Blye, you are going to this party," Monica said in exasperation "You can't get out of this one. It's the last weekend before classes start! It's like, sacrilegious if you don't."

Kensi sighed into her friend's pillow, which she was hugging to her chest. She watched Monica flit around the room, tossing various wisps of thin t-shirts and bedazzled jeans onto the floor in search of the perfect outfit. "Parties are so boring," Kensi whined, "Everyone gets sloppy drunk and watching people make out in every possible corner is not my idea of fun. Neither is being felt up by every single guy who passes me. It's disgusting."

Now it was Monica's turn to sigh, "Kensi. It's our last year of college. You have to live a little! Going to classes, training at the base a few times a week, never going out, it's not healthy. Please come tonight. Please?" Monica pouted. It was quite a sight, the curvy brunette putting on her puppy-dog eyes while standing the in the doorway of her bathroom in just a bra and a pair of jeans, one eye done up in makeup, the eyeliner pencil poised at the corner of the other.

Kensi hugged the pillow tighter and watched her friend carefully. Ever since Jack had left, still less than a year ago, Kensi had been hesitant to participate in any social interaction, especially parties or clubs. She didn't want to forget her mistakes in some random guy on a dance floor. She wanted the pain to remind her of everything she'd done wrong. And a little part of her still believed he would come back. Monica understood this— she was the only person Kensi had confessed any of her feelings to—and she usually didn't push Kensi into anything she didn't want to do. That's not to say she hadn't told Kensi on multiple occasions that she was worried about her, and that it might be good for her to get out and meet other people. Kensi was stubborn, though, and Monica accepted that without question.

Monica finished her eyes, dark and smoky with a trained hand, not trashy like most of the girls who would be at the party. She turned and pointed the mascara bottle at Kensi, "Now, are you going to go put on one of those sexy dresses I know are tucked away in your closet, or do I have to force you into it?" Kensi laughed. Both girls were aware that Kensi was much stronger and could never be "forced" to do anything.

"If I go to this party, you can't force me to go to any more this year," Kensi conceded. Monica hopped excitedly and clapped her hands. Kensi held up a finger, "But I'm dressing myself." Monica's grin slipped a little and then she shrugged, the smile sliding easily back into place.

Kensi stood in her room in the apartment that she shared with Monica. She stared at the closet; boxes were still stacked in the corner from her moving in a few months ago. She'd stayed in her and Jack's place until the lease was up, and then Monica practically packed Kensi's stuff for her and moved her into the extra bedroom at her apartment. Now, Kensi still wasn't completely unpacked. A few things, like her father's uniforms and medals, she preferred to be kept safe. Others, like some of Jack's things that he'd left behind, she preferred to keep out of sight.

The closet had Kensi's small collection of clothes in it, including a few of the dresses Monica had mentioned. Kensi had specifically bought them to impress Jack. One of them she'd even planned on wearing on Christmas, but he'd left before he ever got to see it. Kensi took a deep breath and pushed the thought out of her mind at the same time she pushed the dress farther back into the closet. She would not think about Jack tonight. If she was going to get dressed up and go out with her best friend, she was going to try to have some fun. Instead of a dress, she chose a dark, slim-fitting pair of jeans and a loose, light blue t-shirt. Unlike Monica, Kensi liked to leave a little to the imagination, though she wasn't going tonight to pick up guys, so why should she be worried about that?

Although the idea of hooking up tonight was far out of her mind, Kensi slipped on a black, lacy pair of underwear and a matching bra. If she was going to do this, she was going to go all out. After putting her shirt and jeans on, Kensi stared in the mirror. She hadn't attempted to do anything with her hair in a few months, partly because the heat would just make it frizzy, but also because she didn't have the motivation to make herself look presentable. She had no one to look good for, anyway, and she had to tie it back for training, which was almost every day. Just now, her wavy ponytail swung between her shoulders blades and a few curls escaped and framed her face. She blew at one as it fell in her eye. She then pulled the elastic out of her hair and the unruly curls tumbled down her back. Monica came around the corner, looking perfect as always.

She eyed Kensi's outfit without a word, though her expression said she wasn't happy about the lack of sex appeal. She then saw Kensi's hair. "You're finally wearing it down," she said. She didn't have to say it, but Kensi knew the other girl was waiting for her to ask for help. Stubborn as she was, Kensi gave in.

"Will you help me?" She asked.

Monica smirked and turned Kensi around, steering her to the other bathroom, which housed Monica's arsenal of hair and makeup products. Deciding to just give in and let Monica have her night, Kensi allowed her to paint and perfect everything above the neck before they headed out into the night.

"Marty, man, you've gotta come with me to this party. There's this girl and I really need a wingman tonight. So hit me up when you get this and let me know. Talk to you."

Marty Deeks hung up on his voicemail and grinned at his phone. As much as he didn't want to go to an undergrad party, he couldn't begrudge Paul his girl, another in a long string in the search for the one. The men were nearing on 25 and Paul was determined to meet a beautiful, smart, successful girl to marry by the time he was 28 and starting up his own law firm. That was the plan, at least.

Paul and Deeks were the black sheep of the law program, known for their laid-back demeanors and not-so-prim appearances of shaggy hair and scruffy faces. They were also both at the top of the program, earning them more hatred from their fellow students. Whereas Deeks couldn't care less where he ended up—with girls, his career, or where he was living next year—Paul was a little more focused, and he felt he was destined to start a law firm with a loving wife on his arm at the ribbon cutting. And who was Deeks to hold his friend back from his dreams?

Chuckling, Deeks dialed Paul's number and listened to the ringing on the other end as he opened the fridge and pulled out a beer. "Marty," Paul sighed in relief into the line, "Dude, you have to help me out. I have no idea what to wear."

Deeks held the phone between his ear and shoulder as he twisted off the cap of the bottle and said, "You're such a girl, man. Wear what you usually wear."

He could just see Paul's shoulders slumping as the other man realized his confident friend was right. "Jeans and a button-up it is," he said. Deeks took a swig of his beer. It might do to get a little buzzed before going to a messy undergrad party where there would be eighteen year olds passing out in every conceivable location.

"When do you want to meet up?" Deeks asked. He heard the clanking of plastic on the other end as Paul looked through his closet.

"Party's on Hillard, so, knowing that neighborhood, say, eleven?" Paul answered.

"Sounds good," Deeks confirmed. The men said their goodbyes and hung up. Deeks finished off his beer and pulled another out the fridge. If Paul and this girl hit it off, it was going to be a long night.