Quill, Parchment, & Ink

Title: Surfer Zen
Characters: Marty Deeks, Kensi Blye, appearances from the other members of the team, Monty
Fandom: NCSI: LA
Series: N/A
Written For: N/A
Prompt: Deeks has always found surfing to be a place where he can be himself.
Summary: Deeks has always found surfing to be a place where he can be himself.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Some slight for season 2, mostly character background—places they go and Deeks’s dog.
Warnings: None, implied swearing
Disclaimer: No one recognizable belongs to me or we’d have seen Deeks in a wetsuit by now.
Author's Note: This is not exactly what I intended for this story, but it’s what they were willing to talk about it. Hopefully y’all enjoy it. Thanks as always to illfindmyway  and irishjeeper  who were my cheerleaders and looked over this as I wrote it. One slight use of military slang:
FNG—fucking new guy


It had become second nature to check the surf report whenever he had a spare moment and becoming the NCIS liaison hadn’t changed that. He was careful to keep his compulsive checking from his new co-workers though. Although he’d let slip to Kensi that he surfed, he wasn’t quite ready to share all of it with them. Not even after observing them and all their quirks. Like Kensi with her serial dating followed by compulsive shopping. Or Sam with his over the top fitness regimen and daily gun inspection and cleaning. And Callen with his obsession over anything to do with his past. Surfing had always been a private thing for him once someone had taught him the basics—a place where he didn’t have to pretend to be anyone else or live up to anyone’s expectations—not even Marty Deeks.

He was skimming the report for the fifth time that afternoon when Callen plopped his butt down on the edge of the desk Deeks had been assigned to. “What’cha doing?”

Hurriedly closing the window, Deeks answered, “Just checking the news.”

Callen raised an eyebrow. “Really? Anything we should be concerned about?”

“Ah, no?” Deeks hazarded. “I didn’t really notice?”

“You were checking the news. But you didn’t notice if there was anything we needed to be concerned about.” Callen stared at him, blue eyes appearing to bore into his soul.

“Is there a question in there?” Deeks tried not to squirm in his seat. “Cause I did not hear an actual up-life at the end of either sentence that would indicate a question I mean I’d be happy to answer any questions you…”

A piercing whistle broke into Deeks’s babble and everyone’s heads turned to look up to see Eric leaning over the balcony. “You are freed from servitude for the weekend,” he announced. “But keep your phones on,” he added as the team started to gather their things.

Deeks paused in mid-motion, his messenger bag—laptop safely installed inside—halfway over his head. “Why would you turn off your phone?” he asked the room at large.

“Oh, grasshopper, you have much to learn,” Sam replied. “Brunch tomorrow, guys?”

“Sounds good,” Kensi said. “Ten-thirty?” Callen made a noise of assent from where he was searching his desk from something.

“See you guys Monday,” Deeks said as he turned to head out the door.

“All three heads jerked up at that. “Monday?” Kensi questioned. “We’re getting together for brunch tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Have fun.” Deeks waved at the group as he started to walk out.

“Deeks,” Callen said, looking up from his search. “It’s a team brunch. That means the whole team. Think of it as a bonding experience.”

Sam clapped Deeks on the shoulder. “Ten-thirty. Patrick’s Roadhouse. Be on time or you’re picking up the check.”

“Maybe he should get the check anyway,” Callen mused as they walked out the door. “Being the FNG and all.”

Deeks didn’t hear Sam’s reply but he made a mental note to ‘forget’ his wallet in the morning. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said awkwardly to Kensi.

“Got plans for the early morning?” she asked.

For a minute he debated the answer, then decided she already knew and answered, “Gonna hit the beach and try to catch a few waves.”

Kensi nodded, trying to look like she was interested. “Have fun with that, but don’t be late, or Callen will make you pay.”

Snagging his keys, Deeks nodded, waving over his shoulder and calling, “Bu-bye, Fern,” as he sauntered out of the bullpen.

Kensi’s growl and yell of “Don’t call me Fern!” made him laugh as he let himself out of the building.

NCIS: LA NCIS: LA NCIS: LA NCIS: LA NCIS: LA NCIS: LA NCIS: LA

Carefully Kensi picked her way across the sand. She hadn’t intended to come down here this morning, but she was curious and wanted to see if Deeks’s surfing talk was just that ‘talk’ or if he could actually surf. Shading her eyes, she tried to pick out a familiar blonde head among the waves.

“Kensi? Hey!” the voice came from behind her and she spun around, hand automatically going to her hip and her gun. “What are you doing here?”

She spun around and had time to take in Deeks standing before her, wetsuit clinging to the body she’d wondered about, but never really seen and hair slicked down from the water, before his blue eyes widened almost comically. “Monty! No!” he yelped.

Something slammed into the back of her legs, knocking her off balance and into Deeks. He threw up his arms, dropping the board that had been tucked under one arm to catch her. He’d apparently had enough time to brace himself because they didn’t tumble into the sand, although she found herself pressed up against him for a minute before she recovered and moved away.

“Great,” she sighed, twisting in an attempt to see the back of her jeans. She glanced down at her shirt which was imprinted with a large wet spot from where she’d collided with Deeks. “Now what am I supposed to do?”

“I’ve got a spare towel in my car?” he offered. He used a knee to fend off Monty who was attempting to jump on both of them again. “I’ve gotta dry off Monty and myself anyway.”

“Why do you have the dog at the beach anyway?” she asked.

Deeks shrugged, bending to pick up his surfboard. “He likes the water.” Grinning, he added as Monty leaned against her leg, “And apparently you.”

“Just what I wanted. To be adored by a flea bitten dog.” Kensi rolled her brown eyes as she gently pushed Monty away.

“He doesn’t have fleas,” Deeks protested as he led the way up the beach.

Kensi was absolutely not checking out his ass as she followed him up the incline to the parking lot, at least that’s what she tried to convince herself of. Monty bounded back and forth, running between the two of them, obviously excited over something. By the time she got to the top of the hill, Deeks had stashed his board in the back of a bright yellow Baja and was fishing around underneath the car looking for something. A minute after she arrived, he straightened up, a key clutched in one hand. “Really?” she asked. “A hide a key? Not the safest thing, Deeks.”

He shrugged, rolling his shoulders. “Most people around here do it. And the ones who would bug me, know I’m a cop.” He unlocked the door, reaching in and pulling out a bag. “Monty, up,” he instructed after lowering the tailgate. The dog leaped upwards, landing in the bed of the Baja, and Deeks pulled a towel out of the bag, tossing it over him. Pulling another one out, he handed it over to Kensi.

“So is it all a show?” she asked as she rubbed at the spot on her shirt.

“Is what…?” Deeks paused with his wetsuit halfway down his torso.

“You. This.” She waved at what he was wearing. “Are you really a surfer?”

Frowning, Deeks dug a larger towel out of the duffle and then a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He dropped the clothes on the tailgate as Kensi wondered how much exactly he’d stuffed into that bag since it didn’t seem like that was the end. “What do you mean am I really a surfer? Of course I am!” He wrapped the towel around his waist, reaching underneath it.

“Deeks! What are you doing?!”

“I’m not going to brunch in a wetsuit, Kensi,” he pointed out. He grabbed his jeans, slipping them on under the towel.

“Public indecency? Does that ring a bell?” she asked in return.

“How was any part of what I did indecent?” he asked. “I didn’t flash anyone. I simply changed clothes.” He picked his shirt up and pulled it over his head. “I think we need to find you another shirt though, ‘cause that one’s still looking a bit wet.”

“I’m not going to brunch wearing one of your shirts,” Kensi replied.

“Oh come on.” Deeks grinned. “It’ll give the guys something to discuss. You’re gonna show up with me anyway unless you drove here or plan to hitchhike.” He dug into the bag again and came up with a blue t-shirt, tossing it at Kensi. “It’s this or explain to them why your white shirt is all wet.”

She pulled the shirt over her head. “I’m only doing this because I think it would be easier to explain wearing your shirt than why mine’s wet,” she cautioned him. Looking down at the shirt, she sighed. “You don’t have one that doesn’t say Property of LAPD?”

“Nope, sorry.” Deeks’s grin turned distinctly smirk-like. “I only brought two shirts. Unless you want the one I’ve got on?”

Wincing at the florescent orange shirt he was wearing, she shook her head. “No thank you. I think I’d much rather wear this one. Whatever possessed you to buy that thing?”

“Hey. I love this shirt. Now are you riding with me to brunch? ‘Cause I don’t want to be late and have to pay.”

“Get in the car, Deeks,” she replied. “And explain something to me on the way. What’s with this surfing thing?”

Deeks whistled, patting the side of his leg to get Monty to jump down, and opening the back door so the dog could jump into the car. “There is nothing like the curve of a wave beneath your feet and the feel of a board as you bend it to your control,” he explained as he started the car. Backing out of the spot, he began to wax poetical about the feel of soaring without wings. The babble spilling from him normally would have made her roll her eyes, but the delight shining from his blue eyes was absolutely not making her bite her lip to keep from smiling.