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It’s a peculiar feeling to crave someone’s presence after being a lone wolf for so long. He knows he hasn’t always had to be a lone wolf, but altering lifelong tendencies and welcoming change takes time and can be exhausting.
Surprisingly for both himself and those who know him best, he has never been fully resistant to change when it came to a certain someone—someone who he found himself defending before the ink had even dried on his paperwork at the end of their first case together, and Hetty was all too happy to call him out on it.
It's not often that someone new worms their way through his walls that fast. He hadn’t even warmed up to Sam that fast when they first became partners, and now he looks at him like the brother he never had growing up. Never mind trying to warm up to Kensi; it took a truly horrific case and way too much alcohol to pull back some of those walls to let each other in, and she had been on his team for three months at that point.
But Mr. LAPD-liaison, with the brilliant baby blues, that carelessly-styled shaggy-blonde hair, legs for days, and that radiant smile capable of rendering its recipient breathless, has successfully wormed his way through his walls, his shields, and has managed to sneak a peek behind the masks. He snuck past every last defense of Callen’s, and he couldn’t even tell you when it happened. One minute, he was listing all the reasons he did not seem to fit on his team—all lousy excuses, honestly, and the next, he could not get the younger man out of his head.
He should have known he was projecting when teasing Kensi about being “stuck, smitten, whatever” when they first met him. But the man had waltzed into his life as Jason Wyler, a suspect in their case, not Marty Deeks—the embodiment of sunshine capable of warming even the coldest hearts, so he could not have admitted it then, even if he wanted to.
It is his thoughts of Marty Deeks that keep him from giving in to the pain his kidnappers so readily inflicted upon him. That gives him a reason to keep fighting for his life after days of brutal torture, being strung up like a pig ready for slaughter. Beaten, starved, electrocuted, waterboarded, drugged—he has no idea how long it has been since he was captured, but he can only hope that NCIS will be here—guns a blazing soon.
It is the memories of beautiful smiles, twinkling blue eyes, and a quiet “stay safe” whispered to him before he went undercover—before his cover was burned, again. His desire to hear more terrible jokes at inopportune times, to see that shy smile when he pays Marty any attention, to relish in that beautiful blush that he is often responsible for. It is all these little things that fuel his desire to hang on; he knows help must be coming. He cannot help but wish that Marty isn’t the one to find him like this– not when ninety percent of his body is one giant bruise, covered in burn marks from a cattle prod, and lacerations from whatever torture instruments they fancied at any given moment.
His face feels swollen from the initial blows that knocked him out and made it possible for his assailents to restrain him and his ribs are bruised from one too many kicks. He is certain he is bleeding from more than one wound on his body, hoping that none of them are infected. But he cannot think about that now. Focusing on his injuries means he registers the pain, and if he is going to hang on—and he is, he knows he must think about anything else. So instead, he thinks about his safe place—person.
He fantasizes about little moments he craves to spend with Marty. Simple little things like walking up with the younger man in his arms—greeting him with a good morning kiss, morning breath be damned. A night in after a long case, just the two of them, a dumb movie that neither of them really pay attention too. Dinner of champions, consisting of beer, and pizza as they let go of the horrors in the safety of their own home. Stolen kisses after close calls. Stolen moments when the cases seem never ending, but they need their safe space fix. To play with Monty in his backyard, and to watch Marty surf just because he can while the sun begins to rise.
He is so lost in thought that when he starts to hear gunshots and familiar voices he thinks he’s hallucinating. It certainly doesn’t help that the gunshots stop almost as fast as they started, but the voices are seemingly getting closer and it takes all his strength to look up, to see his team, but most importantly to see Marty-- his safe place, the man he wishes he could call his home right in front of him, the one that made him hang on—whether he knew it or not.
“Marty?” he questions, too afraid to let his relief show, too afraid that this is a hallucination and that he is still at the mercy of his captors. But then a careful hand caresses his cheek, as Marty smiles, “It's me, G, I am right here. Sam is going to help me get you down, ok?”
“You’re really here?”
“Yes, G, I am here. We are gonna get you out of here and to a hospital, ok?”
“No, hospital, please– please don’t leave me.”
“You need medical attention, G; you have to go. Don’t worry, I will be there until the doctors kick me out.” Deeks says, taking all of G’s weight as Sam lowers him to the ground, mindful of his various injuries.
“Ok, love you,” and that is the last the G says as he slumps into Marty’s hold, feeling safe for the first time in days, even though they are still in the room he had been held and tortured in. Safe because Marty is finally here, safe knowing the rest of their team will have their back, and that is the last thing he is consciously aware of until he wakes up in the hospital days later. Covered in tubes and wires, stitches and bandages, and a whole slew of horrific bruising.
Marty is right there looking absolutely exhausted, and yet he still greets G with a small smile. Even in this state, sleep-deprived, rumpled clothing, with a few extra days of stubble on his face, he is still the most beautiful thing G has ever seen. He doesn’t know if it is the meds he is on that make this confession easier or if he is just tired of hiding his affection for the man, but he lifts his left hand—the one without the IV in it- and caresses Marty’s cheek before declaring, “You are beautiful, Marty.”
“You really think so?” he says, aiming for teasing, but it comes out more anxious than anything. Anxious that it’s the delirium from dehydration and all the meds in his system. Worried that once he is better, he will forget the little “love you” bomb he dropped in his lap.
“I wouldn’t lie to you.” He declares with a barely present smirk, his arm falling back down by his side, the allure of sleep beckoning him back under.
“Sleep, I will be here when you wake up.”
“But—”
“Sleep so I can spring you from this joint sooner.”
“Only if you're coming home with me.” He retorts drowsily, the drugs pulling him back under their spell before Marty has the chance to answer.
^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^
“Only if you're coming home with me,” G says right before he falls asleep. In front of the entire team, much to their shared amusement and Deeks’s confusion, G had never been this forward before. Sure, they would flirt in private and spend the occasional late night together in a bar—almost like being truly alone together was a bad idea.
They have danced around their mutual attraction for so long that Deeks is not sure if they know how to do anything different. But he would be lying if he said he didn’t want things to change, that he didn’t want something more. He finally sits back down in the seat he had claimed for himself the second he was allowed in and grabs G’s hand, providing them both a lifeline before he looks up at his friend's and coworkers’ amused faces.
“So, are you going to go home with him?” Sam asks smugly. And Deeks wants to hate him for it, but he also appreciates the much-needed distraction. Something else to think about besides the horrors G faced while they fought to nail down his exact location.
“If he still wants me to when he is given the all-clear.” He admits, unsure what the correct answer is here. This is the closest he has come to admitting his feelings for G to someone who isn’t Eric, his closest friend.
“Deeks, man—I know the two of you have stepped into new uncharted territory since we came to his rescue, but let me tell you something. In all the years I have been G’s partner, never once has he uttered anything close to a ‘love you,’ no matter how out of it he was when I came to rescue his sorry ass. I might get a ‘nice to see you’ or ‘it’s about time’ or ‘took you long enough’, but ‘love you’? You are the first person I have ever heard him utter that too as himself. I am certain he meant it.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be giving me the shovel talk or something?” he can’t help but quip.
“Nah, I know you will do right by him.” Sam explains as he gets up and walks over to Deeks, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly before he continues, “I need to get home to Michelle, call me if anything changes?”
“Of course,” Deeks reassures. He knows Hetty has pulled enough strings that he is allowed to stay in the hospital at all hours with G. If there is a turn, for better or worse, he will be the first to know.
Eric and Nell leave next, promising to bring a change of clothes for each of them and other necessities tomorrow. Kensi quickly follows suit with her ‘get well soon’ wishes still lingering in the air behind her.
“You should get some sleep, Mister Deeks,” Hetty says while pulling out a book to read aloud in an attempt to lull Deeks to sleep and keep Callen asleep for a while longer, before he has to try and check out AMA, again.
And as much as Deeks wants to argue with Hetty, claiming that he doesn’t need sleep, no matter how much he wants to insist that he is ok, he can’t muster up the energy to even form a half-assed argument. “Ok, you sticking around?” he asks, waiting for her reassurance before he places his head down on G’s bed beside his hip and promptly passes out– still clutching onto G’s hand as if their lives depended on it.
Hetty watches on fondly for a moment before acknowledging that that is creepy– even by her standards. She will leave before they wake, but for now, she settles in for the night, opening her book and beginning to read aloud to the sleeping men beside her.
When G wakes the following morning, he finds Deeks still sleeping with his head resting near his hip, holding on to his hand for dear life. G squeezes back with as much strength as he can muster, startling the younger man awake.
Deeks is instantly wide awake, showing what would be an amusing display of mother-hen-like behavior if it weren’t coupled with an overwhelming amount of uncertainty. He starts rapidly firing off questions without taking so much as a breath between each: “Are you ok? Should I get the nurse? How is your pain? Do you want me to get you anything? Should I leave?” amongst many others, seemingly not hearing a single answer or reassurance.
“Marty–” he says, hoping that using his name will pull him out of this spiral. Unfortunately, the younger man is seemingly unaware of Callen speaking at all.
“Deeks–” he tries, thinking maybe he is in work mode, yet the detective continues asking questions, spiraling like he doesn’t know what to do in this situation– and that might not be far off. They had always skirted that line of friendship, being a little too flirty for just friends. Going from their flirty banter to professing his love for the younger man was not a wise move, but he could not go back and change it, and he certainly didn’t want to take it back; he just needed to make sure that Marty understood that.
When Deeks stands up, he almost pulls his hand out of Callen’s to get a nurse, the one that Callen did not indicate he needed. Not knowing how else to get Deeks's attention, Callen squeezes his hand harder, not letting him go– he has a nurse call button after all, and utters an impossibly soft “baby” which surprisingly renders the younger man speechless as he stares down at the older man in shock and disbelief.
“Come here,” Callen murmurs, pulling him closer in an attempt to get Deeks to sit on the edge of the hospital bed with him. It takes a little convincing but Deeks does sit down near his hip with a shy smile on his face.
“Baby, can you tell me what’s going on in your head so I can try to help you through it?” Callen asks. He has a fairly decent idea of what is going on– the confusion he caused but he needs to be certain he hasn’t missed anything.
“Do you want me here?” Deeks asks meekly, he knows it is a loaded question, but he just can’t bring himself to verbalize his fears, sure Sam said that G meant it when he said “love you”, but how can Sam be so sure?
“Baby–” he says while caressing the side of Deeks face, “I don't want you here, I–” he pauses, surprised by the tears threatening to spill over, but then he makes eye contact with the beautiful man beside him and sees the pain that the younger man hasn't hidden yet, a pain that he unintentionally inflicted, a pain that he needs to aid, immediately.
“Marty, I need you here. Wanting you here means I could do without, and I can't live like that anymore. I have ignored my feelings for you for far too long. I don't know when or how it happened, but I am in love with you, Marty Deeks.” He proclaims, painfully aware of the tears falling down his face, but chooses to ignore them as he wipes the tears from the Detective's face.
“G–” he says reverently while leaning forward to wipe the tears from the agent's face. “I love you too,” he declares before he leans forward, G meeting him halfway to seal their lips in a tender first kiss. The position is awkward, but it hardly matters to them, not when they both suddenly know what home feels like and everything finally feels right in the world.