A/N: I just realized that Kensi’s due date would likely be late December to early January, which aligns with a whole lot of pregnancy fanfics.
***
It’s Baby Time
Deeks whistled softly to himself as he sprinkled a mix of shredded cheese Swiss and cheddar cheese on top of the egg-filled skillet on top of the stove. A couple slices of bread were in the toaster, and should be nicely crispy by the time the eggs were finished.
He heard a soft sound, and looked up finding, Kensi leaning in the doorway. She smiled when he noticed her, coming farther into the room.
“How long you been there?”
“A few minutes,” she answered.
“Well, you have perfect timing, because breakfast is almost ready,” he told her.
“You know, this is everything I’ve ever hoped for,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around Deeks’ waist from behind.
“What, me in my boxers in the kitchen?” he joked.
“Nooo. You cooking us breakfast in our kitchen on a Saturday morning with nothing to interrupt us. Our Pastry Babies.” She kissed the base of his neck, sending a pleasant shiver across his skin. “And also you in your boxers,” she added impishly. One of the hands on his torso crept lower to pass over her stomach.
“Mm, I always knew you married me for the floor show.”
Kensi didn’t protest, one hand drifting up to play in his hair. He made a quiet sound that might sounded embarrassingly close to a purr. “Baby, I love where your mind is going, but you’re gonna need to tone it down before I burn something.”
“Oh, I’m fully confident in your ability to engage in a little…distraction and cook that frittata to perfection,” Kensi disagreed. She eased up anyway, kissing his neck one final time. Deeks missed the press of her bump against his back as soon as it was gone.
She wandered away to let him finish cooking. When he brought their two plates out a few minutes later, she’d settled down at the table, her feet propped up on a second chair while she absentmindedly rubbed the farther point of her stomach.
“Breakfast for my ladybird, Croissant, and Doughnut,” he declared, setting a plate full of eggs, mushrooms, broccoli, onion, and cheese in front of Kensi. She immediately dug in, cutting off a large piece with her for.
“You’re lucky your dad spoils us, otherwise you’d be getting cereal and pop tarts most mornings,” she said after her first bite, speaking directly to her stomach.
Beneath the fabric of her shirt, her stomach moved in a slow wave-like motion as one of the twins responded to her voice. With only a few weeks to left, the babies were especially active, though Deeks couldn’t imagine how they had room to conduct their summersaults and tap dancing sessions.
“Hey, give mom a break. She’s trying to feed you,” he chastised them teasingly. He couldn’t stop himself from brushing his fingers over Kensi’s stomach. He felt an answering push back that he thought might be a head.
“Ooh, that was a good one.” Kensi laid her hand over his, taking a momentary break from her meal. “I swear they act up even more with you.”
Deeks grinned, dipping his head to kiss Kensi’s stomach before he turned to his own plate. Kensi had slowed a little, not having much room for food with two nearly grown babies taking up space, so they finished about the same time.
“You know, you don’t have to wait on me hand and foot all the time,” Kensi reminded him when he started to clean up a few minutes later. “I’m supposed to keep moving around. You know Sheila said it would help during labor.”
“And you get that movement during your daily walk. I truly don’t mind at all,” he insisted.
“I know. I just don’t want everything to fall on you all the time.” Deeks raised and eyebrow as though she’d said something ridiculous no she glared back at him. “Marty Deeks, don’t you dare try and pretend that you wouldn’t run yourself completely ragged for us.”
“Maybe just a little,” he admitted. He flashed a winning smile, drawing it out until Kensi couldn’t maintain her glare any longer. “I like to though.”
“Even when it’s three in the morning and these two are tag-teaming diaper changes and feeding?” She pointed at her stomach.
“Especially then.” He knew it wouldn’t be easy, as they’d discussed many, many times, but he truly was looking forward to those late nights. After believing they’d never get to have biological children, he planned to bask in every moment.
It didn’t take that long to straighten up the kitchen again, and as he leaned down to put the skillet back in the oven, he felt a hand slip into his back pocket. Even 8 months pregnant, Kensi Blye could still sneak up on him as well as ever.
He shifted out of his crouch, Kensi moving with him, her hand staying mostly in place. “You looking for something in particular there, Kensalina?” he asked mildly. She squeezed in lieu of answering, letting out a pleased chuckle when his hips jerked back automatically into her hand. He turned around, to face her, finding Kensi grinning up at him.
“I know something else that will keep me active,” Kensi said in a low tone that instantly sent a shiver through him. She crowded him into the corner, between two cabinets, stretching up to kiss him.
Deeks parted his lips, leaning back while Kensi explored his mouth. He settled his hand on her lower back, giving her the freedom to slip her hand under his shirt. Her palm traveled the length of his back, then she tugged insistently at the hem of his shirt, her mouth growing more purposeful against his.
He groaned quietly, unable stop a soft whine from escaping when Kensi pulled away. Her eyes gleamed playfully as she dropped his shirt to the floor, smoothing her down his chest and stomach in a mirror of the path she created on his back. When she reached his hand, she curled their fingers together, guiding him back from the counter.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not what the midwife meant when she said activity,” Deeks drawled, his voice hitching ever so slightly at the way she looked at him.
“Maybe not.” She danced closer for a second, whispering into his ear. “But at least I’ll be laying down.”
***
Kensi woke up in a nest of pillow, the quilt pulled up to her shoulders, and the bed empty. She shifted a little, smiling at the memory of Deeks’ fingers ghosting over her skin. She would have liked to snuggle a little bit, but she knew Deeks had a running list of tasks he wanted to accomplish.
With her due date quickly approaching, they’d spent the last few weeks getting everything ready for the birth. Miraculously, despite the twins and her age, Kensi was deemed a low-risk pregnancy, and they’d ultimately opted for a home birth. Deeks had taken some convincing with that one, but he’d come around once he realized how much more comfortable she was with Sheila compared to the other providers they met with.
They had a section of the garage reserved for the birthing pool (a term that always made Deeks grimace), tarps, jugs of water, blankets, and dozens of other items they would need before, during, and after she gave birth.
Years ago, the thought of all the preparation, making decisions about baby furniture, car seats, and blankets vs. sleep sacks would have overwhelmed her. Now, she found it oddly enjoyable. Maybe it was the further proof of the two little miracles she and Deeks had created.
Shifting closer to the edge of the bed, she finally made a move to get up. She grabbed one of Deeks’ t-shirts on the way to the bathroom, which was just big enough to cover her bump and all the important bits. Though, since it was just her and Deeks around, it didn’t really matter that much.
Kensi puttered around the bathroom while the water warmed in the shower. Really, she’d have liked to take a bath for the dull ache in her back that seemed to be a constant. Instead, she settled for a few stretches and shallow squats, using the vanity for balance.
On her third squat, she felt a strange sensation, almost like a pop, and then a thin stream of liquid ran down her leg. She stilled in mid-squat, staring down at the clear liquid, the pressure in her back suddenly more intense than a few moments ago.
“Well, crap,” she muttered to herself.
***
A/N: I know I’ve written Kensi going into labor before, but I realized now it’s actually canon and had to write it again. And, take the opportunity to continue my twins madness.
Thanks to @mashmaiden for encouraging my insanity!
So sorry for the rather uninspiring title. There will be a second part to this story.
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rules: post the first sentence of your last ten fics. if you haven’t written ten fics, share as many first-sentences as you have.
i was tagged by @actingcamplibrarian ❤️
1. Callen sees Ilyse the moment he opens his door, and almost shuts it again and resolves himself to living the rest of his life indoors.
2. It’s Danny that drives Steve to the hospital when they get back, because SEAL Team Nine immediately disperse to wherever SEAL teams go when they’re not SEALing, and Joe is patching up the others at HQ, and because, well, of course it’s Danny that drives Steve to the hospital.
3. Danny’s pulling idly on Steve’s earlobe one evening when he asks, “What’re these?”
4. An expanse of stars spread out before Jim’s gaze, the deceptively thin material that curved around a full wall of the viewing deck barely visible unless one focused on it, and certainly not obstructive of the view.
5. “Hey, help me hang this photo,” were, Danny thought, innocent enough opening words.
6. The steady, deafening knocking didn’t let up at Danny’s groan.
7. The first time, it’s a knife in the desk drawer.
8. “See, the thing is,” Starsky says, leans over the pool table, and neatly breaks the racked balls.
9. Hutch is shaking in Starsky’s arms, trembling fast and minutely, like a guitar with its strings wound so tight that every touch threatens to snap them.
10. Huggy, with a towel thrown over his shoulder and as harried an expression as he ever got, met Hutch at the door to the Pits.
Tagging @faorism, @magical-friends, @bookwhimses, @gallantrejoinder and anyone else reading this who cares to do it
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