Disclaimer I: I don't own either of these shows. I do own some of their seasons on DVD.
Disclaimer II: FanFiction isn't letting me format the start the way I want it, so imagine the centred lines are justified to the right of the page.
You're the one who fainted at the teeny tiny prick of a needle.
Well, you're the one killing the ozone layer with your addiction to aerosol hair spray.
It's called gel, but I can rightly assume you're not too familiar with hair products.
I'm sure the helmet hair comes in handy while you're fighting crime in your convertibles.
Heeey! I'm from Jersey, we fight crime in Detroit built tanks!
Yeah, you'd need them battling all those GTL-ers with their tans, T-shirts, and oh! over-coiffed hair!
WE ARE THE BIRTHPLACE OF THE GREAT AMERICAN SINGER BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN.
Riiiiight, you keep telling yourself that.
Right, and you keep telling yourself that you don't look like an overgrown sheepdog!
I BLEND, WHICH IS NECESSARY UNDER-COVER!
YOU GOT WHAT YOU NEED?
"Was that who I think it was?" Sam was sitting at his desk beside Deeks and paused in the middle of reading a file.
"Hmm, what?" Deeks glanced over as he tucked his phone back into his pocket.
"First, you were yelling about hair products, Jersey, and defending your ability to 'blend'", he cocked his fingers into air quotes and continued, "second, I overheard something about Springsteen. What did Detective Williams want?"
"Ooh, great work Special Agent Hanna." Deeks leaned back into his chair and swivelled back and forth.
"Recognizing the sarcasm and choosing to not acknowledge it. So?"
Deeks smirked, "he was filling out paperwork for our joint investigation and wanted to know what contact number to put down for us."
Sam nodded, "fair enough. Why did he call you?"
Deeks shrugged, "I'm PD, he's PD, we PDs cooperate, kind of like you and your SEAL buddies."
"You were yelling at each other."
"You guys spar with each other, same difference."
They smiled at each other, swung to face their respective desks and went back to their files.
"Who were you talking to?"
Danny looked up from his papers to see Steve leaning against his office's door jamb. He had his arms crossed and was frowning.
"Why do you ask?"
Steve uncrossed his arms and shoved one hand in his pocket. "You were flailing around your hand and I could hear you through the wall." He demonstrated the waving with his free arm.
Danny held up his pointer finger and gestured to make his point. "Firstly, I do not flail, I occasionally motion." Steve started to speak but Danny switched his hand to a full palm. "Ah! Secondly, you need to stop bugging my office or listening through the walls or whatever you do. Thirdly, I don't want to hear whatever you plan to say next. Now go away."
Steve pushed himself out of the doorway, jutted out his bottom lip, nodded a few times, and stalked back to his office.
Danny went back to his paperwork only to be interrupted by a knock on his still open door. He sighed and looked back up again to see Kono.
"Boss sent me..."
Danny did let her finish, "No."
She smirked, turned on her heel, and shrugged in Steve's general direction.
Danny dropped his head but kept his eyes up, watching across the hall into Steve's office. He saw him jerk his head at Chin and then jerked it at Danny's office.
Chin pushed himself out of his chair and sauntered over to Danny.
He raised his eyebrows at Danny. "Bro, tell him and he'll leave us alone."
Danny smiled, and his head tracked Chin as he walked back to his desk. He leaned forward to lock eyes with Steve.
He called across the hall "I had to call up LA for some information on the case we had while you were off gallivanting in, oh wait, you won't tell us where you where."
Steve smirked. Danny made a face. They both went back to their papers.
You have a new message.
I've got a layover in LA on my way to Jersey, beers?
Sure, send me the deets
"I swear, working with Steve is shortening my life exponentially. The longer I work with him, the better the chances I'm going to lose a limb, suffer massive blood loss, or die."
"I've never been shot at so many times in my life since I started at NCIS. Two have already found their mark."
They stared into their beer mugs. Deeks ate a pretzel.
Danny grabbed his own pretzel and jabbed it in the air as he spoke. "I found out Steven has been stockpiling various weapons in my, my car." He dragged his other hand down his face. "There's smoke grenades, his swim gear, and enough ammunition to defend a small country."
Deeks eyes widened, "wow, all my partner stores is Twinkies, chocolate bars, and the occasional stale donut." He thought for a moment and then added, "however, I've never seen the trunk of Sam's car."
"He had the gall to tell me I should call my car 'Winifred'."
"SEALs, can't live with them...that's about the gist of it."
They sat in silence and contemplated the complications the SEALs caused in their lives. Deeks' phone buzzed with incoming texts. He read them and then dramatically rolled his eyes.
Danny rested his elbow on the table and jammed his fist under his chin. "What's up?"
Deeks dropped his phone and sighed. "I told them I was taking off to meet a source for a chat. Sam wants to know if I used proper spy craft to drop tails and am not in a routine. Callen reminded me to listen for anything related to our open cases. Kensi is convinced I made up an excuse to either go surfing or pick up girls. Sometimes I feel like I'm being baby-sat."
Danny smiled, "that would be nice one day. To not have to be the one that ensures that proper police procedure is followed. To not watch your partner dangle suspects off buildings or throw them in the ocean with sharks." He saw Deeks' eyes start to light up. "No, no, no! You do not get to try any of the above or anything else that Steven has dreamed up behind his aneurysm face."
"Dangling off the side of a building is definitely motivation to give up information. I've been there, done that."
"I do not want to know."
"You're right, it's probably classified or something. Did you know there are three levels of classification? Although I'm pretty sure there's more because Hetty knows things that must be past Top Secret. I think she is the Top Secret."
"What does that even mean?"
"Who knows, half the time I'm not completely sure what goes on in that building."
"As long as we're putting bad guys behind bars, and they stay there, that's what's important."
"Who knew a couple of normal PDs would be pulled into these kinds of task forces?"
They sat and ruminated on that for the last couple of pretzels.
"You know what bothers me the most?" Danny sat up straight and stared hard at Deeks. He took his widened eyes as the okay to continue, "Everyone I work with his these little secrets. Steve has his SEAL secrets and whatever he's doing with Joe, Chin is newly married so he's taking random phone calls, and I'm pretty sure Kono has a couple of things she's not telling us. I'm sure you've got the same thing."
Deeks nodded emphatically. "Yeah, they're always taking calls and passing them off as a part of their routine and I never find out what's going on."
Danny smiled a smile with a hint of evil. "Tell you what, if you're ever feel the need to have your own clandestine conversation, give me a call. It'll definitely piss off Steve. You should have seen him when I called you for the info."
Deeks matched his smile, "Sam was grilling me the minute I ended the hung up. You've got a deal."
They shook hands to seal it and paid their respective tabs. Deeks dropped Danny off at the airport and headed back to work.
When Danny turned his phone back on after he landed Newark, he found a text from Deeks.
Told Sam that we met at the same bar we always do, Callen that we only talked about the Clippers, and smudged some lipstick under my ear for Kensi.
Another one followed:
They all wanted to know who I was texting and why. I said national security and they all got what I believe you would call aneurysm face.
And the last:
This is going to be fun.