"Okay," Deeks said, brandishing a handful of bandages. "My name is Marty, and I'll be your fully-trained field medic for the day. Where can I tie you up?"

He grinned and winked at her.

"It's strap up, not tie up, jackass," Kensi replied, rolling her eyes. She picked up the role-play card that the instructor had given her, and examined it.

"According to this, I've got a broken leg," she read. "You have to assess the damage and splint the leg, and make ready for transport by a paramedic."

"Okay then," Deeks said, hopping to his feet. "If you'd care to assume the position…"

He gestured at the floor with a flourish that got the attention of several of the other participants of the class. Field Medic Recertification was a required course for all NCIS agents, and both Kensi and Deeks were due for theirs. Hetty had packed them off to attend the four hour course early that morning, and they were nearing the end. Kensi knew that she had passed the practical test with her deft binding of Deeks' arm. Her father had taught her this sort of basic survival technique since she was six, and she had smiled as she had tackled Deeks' arm as she remembered her father and his Marine buddies patiently sitting as she had bandaged arms, legs, ankles and anything else she had been able to get her hands on. Some little girls grew up playing with dolls; little Kensi Blye had the men of the 1st Marine Regiment, 3rd Battalion.

Sighing, Kensi ignored her partner's flirtatious banter. Deeks was a born flirt. She'd seen him flirt with old women, young women, even little girls responded to his charm. Animals seemed drawn to him, and that one time they had to put someone in a gay bar to complete surveillance on a target, Deeks had practically had to ward guys off with a stick.

It was his nature, she thought to herself. It was who he was, and why he was so damn good at his job. He could fit in anywhere, be anybody's friend.

That was why she refused to believe any of the barrage of nonsense that came from his lips regarding her. Despite her initial misgivings, Deeks had proved himself to be a solid partner. She trusted him with her life, and knew that he afforded her the same trust. She even saw him as a friend beyond the boundaries of their professional partnership.

But as anything more?

No. She just couldn't.

He wasn't her type, anyway, she told herself as she got up from her chair and lay on her back on the cool wooden floor of the assessment room. She went for dark haired, serious types; men of action. Not blond, floppy-haired surfers. She liked men who dressed smartly, who took their appearance seriously. Not men who dressed like they were Shaggy from Scooby-Doo. Being clean-shaven was a must, she decided as she zoned out of Deeks' running commentary on his actions. No girl liked being scratched up by stubble.

He did have beautiful eyes, though, she conceded. And his mouth was very expressive, with the way he was always biting his pouty lips…

Without warning, she felt Deeks' hand slide up the inside of her denim-covered leg. She jerked upright and had to stop herself from lashing out at him, her close-quarter combat instincts creeping in.

"Woah!" Deeks said, falling backwards. "Easy, tiger! I told you that I had to put my hand there."

He would have, she knew. Deeks may sound like a sleaze, but he wasn't one.

"Sorry," she said shortly. "Get on with it."

He nodded and went back to feeling her thigh for non-existent breakages. Once satisfied that her femur was intact, he slid one of the splints up the inside of her thigh, and one on the outside. He deftly slid four triangle bandages around her leg and the splints, tying them firmly.

"There," he said, pleased with his handiwork. "It's now immobilised."

He looked her up and down, and grinned that familiar grin that always preceded a cheesy line.

"How's your breathing, partner?" he asked, leaning over her, pushing his head close to hers. "Need a little mouth-to-mouth?"

Kensi groaned and swatted at him.

"It'll be fist-to-face if you're not careful," she warned him.

He rocked back on his heels, pleased to have elicited the usual reaction from her.

They waited for the examiner to make her way around to them. From her position prone on the floor, Kensi literally saw her partner from a new angle.

"You've got huge nostrils, Deeks," she told him, amused. "Why have I not seen this before?"

"All the better to smell you with, my dear," he replied immediately, picking up her wrist and sniffing at her pulse point. "Opium? Poison? What is it that you use?"

"Nothing," she lied, wrestling her wrist from him. "I don't use perfume."

She had no idea why she lied about wearing scent. Most women wore something. Her choice of scent was one of the few really extravagant things she allowed herself. She'd been looking for a dress for a friend's wedding when she'd wandered into a cosmetics store and a sales assistant had given her a spray of the perfume to try. She'd left the store shortly afterwards, after being reminded why no sane woman ever went into one on a Saturday, but throughout the day the scent on her wrist had stayed, changing subtly. She'd gone back to the store, just before it closed, and treated herself to a large bottle.

She kept it a secret, though. Kick-ass Kensi Blye was not the sort of woman you expected to be wearing Chanel on her pulse points. Admitting to it made her feel oddly vulnerable, as if showing that side of her femininity was somehow wrong in the testosterone-fuelled world of NCIS.

It was stupid, she knew, but there it was. Wasn't a woman allowed to have some secrets from her partner?

"What's taking them so long?" she asked, changing the subject. "I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry," he teased. "Hold on." He got up and rifled through his jacket pocket and returned with a candy bar. Kensi's stomach growled audibly.

"Here you go," he said, flipping it to her. "I thought you might want this sooner or later."

"Thanks, Deeks," Kensi said, a little touched that he would think to bring this for her. "You want half?"

"Nah, I'm good," he told her, sitting back down at her side. "Besides, it's got coconut in it. I hate coconut."

"You really got this just for me?" she asked, pausing before she took a bite.

"No biggie," he shrugged.

They waited in silence until the examiner came to them, assessed Deeks' bandaging skills and told them they had passed both the practical and written exams. They were free to go back to headquarters, and, more importantly, they were free to go to lunch.

"So, where to?" Deeks asked as they pulled on their jackets and headed for Kensi's car. Kensi threw him the keys, making him stop in surprise. She rarely let him drive her car.

"Your choice," she told him.

"Are you sick?" he demanded, coming close and peering into her eyes. "Because I've just been recertified as a field medic, and I can help?"

"I'm not sick," she told him, giving him an affectionate thump on the shoulder. "I'm just…letting you pick. Make the most of it."

"I will," he said, grinning. He unlocked the car and held the door open for her, an unusually chivalrous act. He then put the car in gear and took her to an amazing Chinese restaurant where the owner called him Louie, embraced him like a brother and declared that their meals were on the house.

It was, Kensi decided, shaping up to be a pretty good day.

Lunch over, they staggered back to the car and drove back to the office. Callen and Sam were out on a case, but Hetty said that they'd called to say that they'd be back within an hour and for Kensi and Deeks to stay put. There were a few things in her in-tray to deal with, and Kensi settled down to an afternoon of light bickering and paperwork with her partner.