No Ordinary Love - G.Callen NCIS L.A

Chapter 45

Grisha turned the engine off and pulled the key out of the ignition. He turned to Garrison. "We're here."

Garrison looked up at the house. There was light on in the living room, which suggested there was someone there. Was there someone in his son's life? Someone special? " Are you sure it's not a problem? Me staying here?"

Grisha shrugged, not as comfortable as he let on. " There's more than enough room. You're family." It's what he hoped Dee would see when he brought his father home with him in a few moments. He hadn't thought to call ahead and prepare her for a guest.

If Dee was surprised to see a visitor, she didn't show it. She looked up from the notebook she was scribbling in when he opened the door and smiled. "Hey, babe."

"Hey." Grisha stepped into the room and closed the door behind him and Garrison. Tentitavely, he took a step in her direction, toying with his keys.

Sensing the shift in energy, Dee closed her laptop and put her pen down. When nothing came, she started with the simple questions. "How is your headache?"

"Better." He licked his lips and swallowed.

"Did you need any more aspirin?"

"I took one extra around lunchtime."

"Okay." When he still didn't elaborate, she tilted her head to the side. "Don't overthink whatever it is you're trying to say, babe. It's only me."

Swallowing hard, he gestured to Garrison. "I'd like you to meet Garrison. My dad." Although everyone else had said those words throughout the day, he had stubbornly kept calling his father by his name. The words tasted strange on his tongue, but he had no other words to offer her to explain why he had brought this man into their home.

Her eyes grew wide for a split second and then she rose, extending her hand to Garrison. "That's a surprise. It's nice to meet you. I'm Deja, his fiancée."

Garrison shook her hand, seemingly as uncomfortable as his son. "Likewise." She was special alright.

When neither men didn't offer anything else, she chuckled. "Well, the most important question right now, for me is: have you eaten?"

Grisha shook his head. "No."

"I thought so. Get your coats on the rack, take a seat. Would you like some tea?"

Grisha could see what she was doing and he was utterly grateful for it. She was falling into the role of hostess; as if Garrison had walked into Indulge and she only had to feed him. It gave Grisha time to gather his wits. He followed her into the kitchen. "I'm sorry I didn't call," he started. "I... This was a spur of the moment thing."

"That's all right." She put the kettle on and turned the heat on under a pan already on the stove. When she noticed his stance, she stopped and turned to him. "Are you okay with him being here?"

"I couldn't send him to a hotel."

"That's a practicality that doesn't quite answer my question."

He thought about it. "I don't know yet," he answered truthfully.

"Oh, sweetie..." Taking his head between her hands, she locked eyes with him. "How did you find him, anyway? He just showed up?"

"He... He showed up on a case we were working today."

"He is here for work?"

"He's here..." Grisha shook his head, not finding the sufficient words. "He's here for something work-related that became personal."

Dee nodded, not completely understanding what he meant, but knowing that he couldn't elaborate on it right now. "Do you want to talk with him? About your past?"

"Eventually."

Eventually. Not now, when his emotions were still so raw. She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth and wrapped her arms around him. "I love you," she whispered. "And I'm so proud of you for giving him a chance."

Grisha held her close. "Thank you." Then he thought of something and let go of her, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Are you okay with him being here? I didn't check anything with you, I just assumed..."

She put a finger to his lips. "It's fine. He's family. There's always room for family."

Beyond thankful for that answer, he kissed her forehead. "What did I ever do without you?"

Her eyes sparkled with mirth as she looked up at him. "Nobody knows..." She winked and stepped out of his embrace. "Now, back to the dining room you go. Try and talk to him. I'll be right there with soup."

"Thank you." He went back to Garrison and sat down on the long end of the table.

"I appreciate it, Grisha. I realize this is highly inconvenient for you both."

"Well, I'm not letting you stay in a hotel when we have room. It's no trouble." He was not entirely sure that that last statement was truthful, but he had to start somewhere.

It stayed quiet for a while. "So, you got engaged."

"We did. A few weeks ago."

"Have you known each other long?"

Grisha shook his head. "We met a few weeks after we left Russia with Arkady."

"Does she know?"

"She does."

Dee came into the room with a tray loaded with tea. "Let it sit for another moment. I hope you like soup, I made it just this afternoon. It's warming."

The men silently stirred in their tea as Dee rummaged around in the kitchen. Grisha could tell the moment Garrison smelled something familiar. He had smelled when he was in the kitchen; Dee had made borsjstj.

When Deja came back, she put a steaming bowl in front of Garrison, who looked at it in surprise. A tentative smile pulled at the corners of his lips. He cleared his throat. "Borsjstj?"

Having put bread and butter in front of them, Dee sat down, folding one of her feet under her. "Borsjstj. It's one of Grisha's favourites."

After the first bite, Garrison closed his eyes. "Oh..." When he opened them, they were glassy with tears. Again, he cleared his throat. "This is how your mother used to make it. She... It was one of Amy's favourites as well."

Grisha almost chocked on his spoonful, but Dee saw that he didn't dare to give another response. Handing him a napkin, she turned her attention back to Garrison. "Is it? I found it in a really old Russian book, I had it translated."

"It is." Slowly, he took another spoonful. "Clara made this often... I remember Amy asking for it."

Dee smiled. "Was she a good cook? Clara?"

"Not really." He shook his head. "Nothing she made was fancy, but her soups were great. Then again, there was no fancy food in the Sovjet Union."

Dee reached under the table and squeezed Grisha's leg. "How did you meet? She was American, right?"

For a moment, Garrison's gaze rested on his son. Then he looked back at Deja. "Clara's mother was Romanian. Clara was born in Romania, then when her father died, she and her mother left for America. She came back to Romania as a CIA-agent. I was a Major in the KGB..."