A/N: So I don't know what happened. I was pretty dead-set against the Callen/Nell ship, and then one day I started writing and BAM! It became Nallen! From then on, it's almost ALL I can write! LOL

Upon deeper reflection, I suppose it might be because Nell and I share certain traits – hair color, height, and intelligence – and I find Callen intriguing in both his history and his abilities as an NCIS agent (not to mention his gorgeous face!) Don't get me wrong, I LOVE Deeks, but the enigma that is Callen I find just that much more interesting and fun to write.

Anyway, all that to say, Enjoy this little one-shot drabble thingy that may or may not turn into an actual story! Nothing too graphic, just fluffy and full of cute! :)

Feels Like Home

He didn't know when his lust for her had turned into love – if that's even what this was – but he was sure he wasn't about to lose her anytime soon. Lying with her in his arms, her back pressed against his chest, he listened to her sleep, smiling when she murmured something into the pillow. She jerked a little and his arms tightened reflexively around her, his nose buried in her soft hair. The covers lay in a crumpled heap between his shins, even the sheet too heavy in the oppressive summer heat. The air both inside and out was still, and he tried hard not to move despite the trickle of sweat dripping uncomfortably down his spine. Moving only made it worse.

As he tried to figure out when LA had become Afghanistan, she sighed softly, her hand slipping further down his arm to cover his knuckles. He pondered this new dynamic between them, and how it would affect the team. Because whether he wanted to admit it or not, it would change things. He knew the team would be happy – supportive, even – but he wasn't naïve enough to think he'd never have to choose between his feelings for her and the good of the team.

And then, there was Hetty.

He probed the surface thoughts in that vein but refused to go deeper. He already felt the edges of depression crowding in, and since he'd finally found something that felt so much like home he was determined not to let the good feeling go. Which, if he thought much more about Hetty's possible disapproval, was bound to happen.

He must've been thinking too loudly because she turned over to face him, her hazel eyes searching his blue ones. Her hand briefly touched his jaw as she said, "Callen? You okay?"

He nodded. "Just thinking a lot."

Her eyebrow quirked, and she leaned forward to press her mouth against his. When she pulled away she said, "Well, stop."

Tangling his hands in her hair, he rasped, "Yes, ma'am," before searing her lips with a kiss of his own.

She melted against him, her hands on his shoulders, and he threw his leg over both of hers, trapping her there. He could feel her breath grow shallow, and when he dropped one hand to the inside of her thigh she gasped, gripping him tighter. From there it was all a blur – a wonderful, exhausting and exhilarating blur that ended with her draped on top of him, desperately trying to catch her breath and him just holding onto her.

"You okay, Nell?" He managed once he'd caught enough of his own breath to speak, and she nodded, her hair catching against his stubble.

"I'm fine," she told him. But when he saw the purple mark on her collarbone – the one he had put there not a half hour ago, his eyes widened. Before he could say anything, Nell said, "Looks worse than it is."

Recalling some of the other things he'd done to her, he frowned. "Nell, I..."

She put her fingers against his lips, quieting him. "You didn't hurt me. I'll always be honest with you about that."

"I lost control, and that scares me."

"Well, it doesn't scare me." She shifted so she was beside him again, her head propped in her hand. "I know you're not used to this, and that's okay. Despite you trying to hide your emotions, you're a very intense man. Whatever you feel, you feel it with your whole being. And that's why I love you."

"I'm just afraid that one of these times I'll go too far..."

She smiled. "Callen, I'm not defenseless, and anyway I trust you."

He sighed and stared up at the ceiling and she curled up in the crook of his arm, her head on his chest. His hand absently rubbed her flat stomach, his fingers dancing across flushed skin.

"It's late," he finally murmured. "We gotta be in before seven."

She grinned in the darkness. "Yet you're still lying there."

Callen shrugged under her head. "I'm comfortable. Well, as much as possible, anyway."

"Then stay," Nell said.

"I don't know..."

Frustrated, she sat up and stared into his eyes. "Why is it that when you're in the field you can make snap decisions that affect people's lives, but here with me, you're afraid to commit to anything?"

"Because in the field I'm doing what I was trained to do," he replied. "To see each threat and assess it, then act accordingly. This – us – it's hard for me. I've never trusted someone with my heart without it getting broken."

Her eyebrows knitted. "What about Tracy?"

"We were both undercover, and you know me on an Op; I can adapt to my cover, make others believe I am who I say. She was good at that, too."

Softly, Nell said, "I won't break your heart, Callen."

He looked up at her and slowly nodded. "I know. I've just gotta work on trying not to break yours."

The End...?