AN: At the beginning of the summer I started what expected would be a collection of Densi drabbles and one-shots that I would work on and post over the summer. That collection never materialized, but this fluffy little scene is one that I started and has stuck in my mind. If I ever get around to writing the others, they'll be posted here as well.

This first one is set at the resolution of the Deep Trouble story line, presumably in what will be the end of Deep Trouble Part 2.

I don't own anything NCIS:LA related.

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one." CS Lewis

Talia leaves the boatshed at the end of the day tired, but not unsatisfied. She genuinely likes this team, despite their aversion to sharing. They're good agents, good people and, in addition their incredible efficiency, they almost seem more like a family than a workplace unit. She's been on her own too long to really remember what that feels like, but her gut tells her that she's in the midst of something good.

There's a slight smile on her face as she walks out the doors. She wouldn't have been averse to getting to know a certain shaggy detective better, but the moment she heard the way he talked about his partner when they first met she should have known that he was off the market. She likes to think that maybe if she'd met him before Kensi Blye was in the picture she would have had a good shot at him. But then, something tells her that before Kensi Blye was in the picture she might have met an entirely different Marty Deeks.

A murmur of voices greets her as she opens the door, and as she rounds the corner to where her car is parked they become clearer. There, between her and her car, one scowling brunette has her hand on the door handle of her SUV. The owner of a blonde mop is leaning against the door, deliberately preventing her from opening it.

"How can I make it up to you, Kens?" He's asking, purposefully blocking her entrance to her car.

"Pizza? Thai food? Donuts? Rocky Road? The last of my stash of original Twinkies that you think I don't know that you know is in my bedroom closet?"

Her scowl deepens:

"Why do you always think you can buy my forgiveness with food?"

He leans closer: "Because I know you so very, very well."

As he speaks, he maneuvers closer and closer until her body is trapped between his and the car, one of his forearms on either side of her head, their bodies not quite touching until she breathes too deeply.

She raises her eyebrows skeptically but doesn't shy away from him.

His face grows serious as he looks at her.

"I was an idiot, Kens," he admits quietly.

"I've been an idiot these last few weeks thinking we could go back to before. Thinking it would be better if we just went back." A hand comes up to rest on her cheek and keeps her maintaining eye contact:

"I don't want to go back."

Kensi doesn't respond as he inches closer, and when his lips touch hers it's so reverent that it's like prayer and a plea and a sigh of relief all in one.

The moment is so intimate that Talia has to look away, and only then realizes that she has actually stopped moving and is just standing there watching them. As she resumes walking, she can still see them in her peripheral vision as they separate and speak again in low voices, oblivious to her presence.

"Am I forgiven?"

"You can't just kiss me and expect everything to be okay, Deeks."

His voice turns enticing as he plays his ace in the hole: "I'll buy you that deep fried, cream filled, chocolate covered heart-attack-waiting-to-happen that you like so much..."

She swats his chest with one hand and pushes him away. The last thing Talia hears as she closes her car door is Kensi's voice:

"And the Twinkies. And you better not have eaten any of them."