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Eric's a morning person except for when he isn't. This doesn't make sense to people who don't know him, but to Nate, who's seen him bound into bright-eyed wakefulness on weekends and days following a good night's sleep alongside his occasional lethargic tumble into consciousness after too many hours at the office, it's perfectly normal.
The first thing Nate does once he's back stateside is get briefed by Hetty. This includes, following the expected outline of his assignment at the prison, a more personal update on the team, how they are and what they're up to. An acquiescence to his profession, he guesses, nodding along as Hetty explains the ins and outs of Deeks and how Kensi's doing with her newest partner. Plus maybe something a little more pointed, as she moves on to mention how Eric left the office at an incredibly early 5pm the evening before; not something entirely relevant to an Operational Psychologist.
"I think that's all you need to know for now, Mr. Getz," she finishes, nodding.
"Right. Thanks, Hetty," says Nate.
"It is now." Hetty peers at her watch. "Five in the morning. While I would suggest you get some rest before you begin your new assignment, I'm not so hopeful as to imagine you will actually do as I suggest."
"I," says Nate. Hetty's holding a smirk in the corners of her mouth-- not like it's in any danger of getting out, but that calculated way she uses to let you know it's there and she could if she wanted to. "No, okay. I mean, it won't-- it won't be a problem."
"I'm sure it won't, Mr. Getz," says Hetty, raising her voice a little as he heads for the door. "Tell Mr. Beal that sand in the Operations Centre again will not be tolerated!"
Nate's saved from answering by the click of the door and the first pale wash of sunlight.
Hetty hadn't been purposeless in noting what time Eric finished work last night. By now he's probably high on the surf at Venice Beach. Nate wanders out onto the street and hails a cab, not in any real hurry. It's nice to feel that calmness again; strange that it should be brought on by LA of all places, but it settles over Nate soft and familiar and not at all like the buzzing, harried hurriedness of the last few months. Like home.
He buys a coffee from one of the surfer cafes and wanders around the promenade looking for Eric's car. It isn't hard to spot; when he's not on an NCIS-sponsored assignment Eric drives a pretty shabby-looking Jeep, but he loves it. He doesn't have to be careful of sand or takeout beneath the seats and he can strap his surfboard to the roof, which is about all that matters to him. Apart from it, you know, running.
Nate smiles quietly to himself and settles in to wait against the hood, sipping his coffee slowly, making it last. It isn't the greatest coffee he's ever had, but it also tastes like nothing since he's left LA, and it's pretty much worth it for that.
The beach is far from empty, as he looks out over the gratifyingly wide-open, familiar space, but it's hushed with the kind of quiet brought on by the mutual respect between early-morning surfers. Most of them have jobs to get to later, and there's more than time enough in the day for noise and chaos. It's kind of cool, Nate thinks, how everyone gives everyone space to be in their own world out here, even if they're all up in people's faces the rest of the day. It's little things like this that maintain his faith in humanity.
This, and things like Eric's smile, brilliant even against the sun-dazzled shatter of the waves as he approaches the car, pink-cheeked and spent.
"You're back," he says. "I mean, obviously, or you wouldn't be sitting on my car, but I." He stops, shaking his head. "Hi."
"Hi," says Nate.
"When did you get back?" says Eric, approaching him almost cautiously.
"This morning," says Nate. He curls the hand not holding his coffee over Eric's hip when he gets close enough.
His chest is bare, the wetsuit stripped down to his waist, and his skin is damp, slightly salt-sticky.
"I'm flattered then," says Eric, biting down on his lip. "Was there, um-- was there a reason?"
"Hetty has an assignment for me," says Nate. "Don't start til tomorrow though."
"Oh," says Eric, swallowing. "Cool. So-- "
"We could." Nate shrugs. "You need to go shower and stuff before work, right?"
"Um," says Eric. "Well, I don't always, but I guess Hetty gets pissed when I track sand into Ops, and I-- "
"Eric," says Nate.
"Huh?" says Eric, blinking slowly. He isn't wearing his glasses. "Oh, I mean. Yeah. I need to shower."
"Cool." Nate grins. "I'll come with, if that's okay."
"Sure," says Eric, grinning back lopsidedly.
He slips kind of awkwardly from Nate's hold to get to the driver's side. Nate didn't think he would've gotten all suave in his absence or anything, but it's kind of nice just the same.
"You know," adds Eric when they're both inside, "This isn't the first time I've found someone waiting on my hood."
"Trying to make me jealous?" says Nate.
Eric grins. "She was wearing a bikini," he says.
"I probably didn't need to hear any more after 'she,'" says Nate.
"Anyway, it turned out she had the wrong car," says Eric ruefully.
Nate grins stupidly at the window. "I forgot how unfortunate you were," he says.
"I forgot what a great team psychologist you were," says Eric. "Also, you did not."
"Yeah," agrees Nate absently.
"So how was Yemen, anyway?" says Eric.
Nate glances sharply at him. "I never told you where I was," he says.
"Uh," says Eric shiftily.
Nate rolls his eyes. "Hetty didn't find out, did she?"
"Of course not," says Eric, but he doesn't sound completely certain.
"It was, you know, okay," says Nate anyway, shrugging. "Kind of cramped."
Eric nods. "That why you're hitting up the beach?"
"Sort of," says Nate, glancing at Eric again and then away. Apparently he's never quite going to get over being awkward either. He's learning to live with it. It's surprisingly easy, with Eric.
Eric's biting back a smile though. "I didn't, uh, you know, do any illegal satellite surveillance or anything," he says.
"Are you-- was that sarcastic?" says Nate, frowning.
"No!" says Eric. "I'm just saying, apart from reading a file I shouldn't have to find out where you were, I haven't checked in on you."
"Oh," says Nate. He thinks about that for a moment. "Are you-- are you trying to say you missed me?"
"No," says Eric, scoffing, "Because that would be lame."
"Right," says Nate, rolling his eyes.
Eric drums his fingers on the wheel. He has really nice hands; it's kind of mesmerising.
"Are you coming into the office today?" he asks.
"Probably not," says Nate. "I thought I'd just hang out at your place."
"Sweet," says Eric. "We could get takeout for dinner."
"I missed takeout," says Nate wistfully.
Eric gives him his lopsided smile again. "Anything else you missed?" he says.
"Sure," says Nate lightly. "LA coffee, the beach, proper TV, napping, my apartment-- "
"We're here," says Eric, cutting him and the engine off.
"Oh," says Nate, blinking.
He gets out of the car.
"I missed your place, too," he says, tilting his head.
"I bet you did," says Eric. "Not that, uh, I mean, I'm sure your place in Yemen was nice, that's not what I mean, but I-- "
"It's kind of crappy, actually," says Nate. "I'm going to kiss you now, okay?"
"Okay," says Eric, blinking and swallowing.
Nate rounds the hood of the car kind of stiltedly, wondering how people make this look graceful in movies, but then he gets to Eric and it's easier, curving a hand over the familiar slope of his jaw and leaning in to lick the salty taste from his chapped lips. Eric makes this small noise and presses in so his bare, still slightly damp chest is catching at Nate's shirt, and brings his hands up to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck. Now that he's past the outer layer of salt Nate can taste the coffee Eric always has before heading out, and the toothpaste beneath that, and it's all warm and slick and soft, and pretty much everything he's been missing.