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Chapter One: Kamikaze Cooks
Agent Kensi Blye groaned, pushing her completed stack of paperwork away. "This is the last time I'm leaving this till Friday night." She rested her head on the bare wood desk, leaving only a mass of dark brown waves to be seen.
Her boss rolled his ice blue eyes at her, "You said that last week Kens," G Callen smirked at her.
"And the week before that," His partner added with a teasing smile. Agent Sam Hanna glanced at her partner, "Deeks' bad habits rubbing off on you?"
"Hey," The LAPD detective sat up indignantly, abandoning his current game addiction on his I-Phone to defend his reputation. "Everything that goes wrong around here is not my fault."
"Yeah, it is," Kensi looked up at her partner.
"You know, sometimes, I think I want another partner," Marty Deeks told her with a mock hurt expression on his tanned face. He didn't mean it; it was just part of their banter.
"Good luck with that," Sam chuckled. "You'd have to find someone who'd put up with you without shooting you."
"Which rules out me and Sam," Callen said.
"Guys, I'm not that bad,"
"I heard that Eric was thinking about getting an assistant. You could ask him if he wants another partner," Sam continued, ignoring the blonde man's outburst.
"Ask me what?" Eric Beale, tech extraordinaire walked down the stairs, carrying another pile of paperwork.
"Deeks wants to be your partner," Callen explained quickly, smirking a little.
Eric frowned, "I just got used to one partner. I'm good."
"Don't you dare tell me that's more paperwork," Kensi glared at him, holding a pen menacingly.
"Not for you," The tech dumped it on Callen's already overcrowded desk. "Hetty said your team evaluations need redoing."
"Ha!" Kensi jeered gleefully, pumping her fist in the air. "For once, it's not me."
"Rub it in anymore and you'll fail your evaluation," Callen told her and she narrowed her eyes at him.
"Done and Done!" Deeks slammed his pen on the desk victoriously. "Who's up for a beer?"
"Pass, I'm starving," Kensi stood up and stretched. "I'm going to cook then sleep for the weekend."
"You? Cook?" Sam laughed, shaking his head.
"Hey, I can cook," She glowered at him, folding her arms defensively.
"Yeah, which is why every time we go over to yours for a 'dinner party', we have pizza," Eric rolled his eyes.
"We do not," Kensi argued. "And I can cook. Just ask Deeks!"
"Like he'd be able to judge," Sam scoffed, leaning back in his chair.
"What's that supposed to mean?" The detective looked at the Navy SEAL.
"Nothing. It's just that your palette isn't very diverse."
"I live in Los Angeles," Deeks said, "I can eat a different nationality every night."
"Exactly- you don't cook," Sam pointed out.
"I do too cook. I did a cooking course when I first joined the LAPD."
"How hot was the instructor?" Eric asked. All of them knew the real reason he would have done a course like that.
"Pretty damn hot. And she made an awesome cheesecake. It tasted amazing with her body butter," His eyes glazed over as he reminisced. "But that's beside the point."
"Face it Kens," Callen drawled. "You can't cook and neither can Deeks."
"Can to," Deeks muttered like a child.
"We'll prove it," Kensi declared, sticking out her chin defiantly. If there was one thing never to say to Kensi Marie Blye, it was that she couldn't do something. Because she would, even if it killed her. Or blew up her kitchen.
"Yep, we'll prove it," Deeks echoed then realised what his partner had said. "We'll?"
"Yes. Deeks' we'll." Kensi glanced at him, pleading with him using her mismatched eyes.
"Yes we will. We'll show you were the best cooks in LA."
"We have a system, Kens. You can't mess up the system," Callen said as he flicked through the paperwork.
"What's the system?" Deeks asked, confused.
"When we want pizza, we go to Kensi's. When we want sushi, we go to Eric's. And when we want home cooked food, we go to Sam or Nell's," Callen explained offhandedly as though it was obvious. "You're changing the system."
"I thought you said change was good. Routine gets you killed?" Deeks complained, parroting Sam's tradecraft lectures.
"Changing a routine like this will get us killed. We'll die of food poisoning," Sam said with a little shrug. "No offense."
Kensi's face hardened into a frozen smile. "None taken. Dinner's at my house in two hours. Eric, can you please tell Nell?" Her tone was that overly polite tone that all of them had come to fear. Whenever she used it, it never led to good things for the other person.
"Sure," He agreed uncertainly. "Do you want us to bring anything?"
"Nope," She shook her head. "I'll do everything."
"You might want to alert the hospitals to expect six cases of severe food poisoning," Sam suggested sardonically.
Kensi narrowed her eyes at him, "Funny. Come on Deeks," She grabbed him by the sleave and started dragging him, "Let's unleash our Jamie Oliver."
Eric looked questioningly at Sam and Callen, "It is going to be safe to eat, isn't it?"
"Don't worry about it," Sam waved him off, "They won't be stupid enough to actually try and cook something complicated."
"I hope so," Eric said and ambled back up to Ops to tell Nell the plans.
Deeks pulled his sleave out of Kensi's iron grasp, "Jeez Kens, lay off the wheeties, would you?"
"I'm sorry," She let go. "They just make me so mad sometimes. Acting all superior like that. I'm just as good as them."
"I'm pretty sure Sam's a better cook than you though," Deeks said without thinking, then waited for the retaliatory strike.
"That's why I have you," She smiled at him. "You're my secret weapon."
"What?" He didn't understand.
"Just make that weird curry thing that you made that weekend we had the movie marathon and everything will be cool," She said impatiently. As his face fell, so did her hopes of proving the rest of the team wrong. "You didn't cook that, did you?"
"Nope," He shook his head despondently, "It was take-out from the day before."
"Crap," Kensi swore. "They're never going to let us forget this."
"Us?" His voice rose in both pitch and volume. "It was your idea!"
"And you're my partner, so it's yours too," Kensi retorted, running a hand through her hair. "What are we going to do?" She bemoaned.
"How come that logic doesn't work when I have an idea?" Deeks asked, ignoring her last question.
"Because you're ideas are stupid," She shot him down with a withering look. "Focus Deeks. We have to think of something."
"Why don't we just cook something?" He asked the obvious question.
"You burn TV dinners and I burn water," Kensi deadpanned. "But I don't see that we have any other choice. Oh we are so screwed," She groaned again, face palming.
"Kamikaze cooks," He nodded thoughtfully. "I like it."
A/N: This was supposed to be a part of my one-shot series, On the Run, but the idea kinda evolved into this. I'm supposed to be writing my Neric fic but Densi is just too much fun sometimes. This is just a fluff piece, nothing serious but fun. Tell me what you think. Pretty Please!