G. Callen is relaxed.
Maybe, it's the softer atmosphere of a dimly lit restaurant. Or, the flickering of the chandelier above them and the shadows it casts on her face. The sultriness of the darkness in her hazel eyes, long lashes fluttering against shimmering cheekbones. Or, maybe it's the curls of red bouncing against her shoulder.
But, maybe.
Just, maybe, it's the happiness in her smile and the set of her shoulders. Maybe, it's the easy way she sips at her wine and the quick wit, she's so good at, that keeps their conversation fluid and eases his mind away from the last week. When their lives had been turned upside down by things, he'd rather forget.
"You know," her small hand creeps across the table, fingers curling around his. "I find dates go much smoother when both parties are present. Where are you, G?"
"Nell," her hand is soft and warm and he doesn't hesitate to tighten the hold. "I feel different when I'm with you."
"Oh?" Nell flicks an eyebrow skyward. "Good or bad?"
"Good."
"Well, that's good to know." Nell releases a breath. "What is good different?"
"Relaxed." Callen can't help but smile. "I don't have to constantly look over my shoulder. I can focus on one thing - I can focus on you."
"And, that's a good thing?" she really does wonder if this is a good different because G. Callen doesn't exactly have a penchant for relaxing. He rarely sleeps, always needs to be busy, and owns very little for the precise reason of not seeing the point.
"Yes." he nods, lowering his gaze to the table. "With Joelle, it was lies at first. She didn't know who I was and I couldn't tell her but you - you know me, Nell. I didn't have to lie."
"Nope." she smiles, squeezing his hand. "I've been talking in your ear so much these past few years, I wondered if I shouldn't keep my distance, personally."
"I like it." and dear. Lord. Those baby blues are going to be the end of her. All honesty and a little shyness, because he's not entirely comfortable with expressing emotions. He's never done this. Volunteered information because he could - because, it is within his right, and because he has nothing to hide. "I like having you in my life, Nell. In case you're forgetting, your voice in my ear has saved my ass a couple of times."
A pretty flush stains her cheeks.
"You've saved my ass a couple of times, too."
His expression sours at the reminder of how much danger she's faced in her adventures out of Ops. While he'd rather not speak of it, he can't forget how damn good she'd been in a jam. But, he had been there for the after-effects, and he'd witnessed Nell in a dark, dark place after some of the situations she'd been in.
"You save yourself, Jones." he reminds her, hoping to lighten the tone. "You could take down bad guys with just that mouth."
Nell just smiles.
She adores this man. Really. While she's been in some pretty dark places herself, she's also seen him through some really dark days that felt like dark years. Sometimes, they'd wondered, silently, if there was a light. If there was, how the hell were they supposed to find it?
His hand closes around hers, once more; "Nell?"
"Sorry, G. I was just - " Nell's mouth opens, then closes, as she seeks to compose her thoughts into something tangible, something beyond the disconnected fragments, she's having trouble voicing. "We've been through hell, Callen."
"All nine circles." Callen agrees, squeezing her hand. His blue eyes spark with a brief light of amusement as he offers a quip; "I'd rather not relive the first eight before I've recovered from the ninth."
"How do we do it?"
"Do what, Nell?"
"Survive." Nell's eyes widen, full shock and wonder and tears flickering amber in the candlelight. "We see and live through hell, everyday. How do we do this job without breaking?"
And, G. Callen sighs.
He knew this was coming. If he's totally honest, his reason for asking her out was not so much his want of a date, but rather, wanting Nell Jones as far away from Ops as physically possible. He'd seen her work relentlessly through their last case and the numbness of what she does had to wear off eventually.
"You don't, Nell." it's a bit pitiful, telling her this, but the truth is - they're all broken. "We're all a bit broken. We all have parts of ourselves that we don't quite know how to fix."
"Even you?" she carefully dries her eyes, unable to help
"Especially me, sweetheart." Callen nods. She should really know this but, maybe, she needs to hear it from him. "If anyone on this team is still trying to figure out how to navigate the circles of hell and come out alive, it's me."
"It seems like actual hell." she's not sure if it's the job, or just the effects of the job. It's edging on PTSD and suffering through the worst kinds of anxiety, without showing it. Without showing them that every string of code is blowing out one more nerve, or every hostage negotiation that doesn't work is another dozen skipped heartbeats. "What if we go through too much, Callen? What if this doesn't work?"
That really isn't where he wants this to go.
He wants her in his life - in all aspects of it. He wants her, not only to be the voice in his ear while he fought terrorists, but to be the voice humming in his kitchen while he cooks for them (he happens to know she can't cook). He wants her to be writhing underneath him, or moving above him, both of them seeking release and taking pleasure in doing so with each other.
He wants to kiss her.
He wants to love her.
He wants her.
"Whoa, Jones." Callen interrupts her train of thought, if not derailing it, entirely. He's not ready to think about what might happen if this doesn't pan out. "Let's not jump the gun. This is just the first date."
"I know but - "
"Let's get past this." he calms her easily, reaching for the menu. "Now, what'll it be?"
There's a wicked gleam in her eye.
Dear. God.
He may not survive, tonight.
xxx
Their first date almost ends early.
Almost being the key word.
A Japanese restaurant and some good wine was always the way to go. The food was delicious, the wine was dry and satisfyingly heady, and his company for the evening was all of those things wrapped in a sunset gold dress that fell just shy of her knees. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, neither of them planned after dinner entertainment so their date was essentially over after dinner.
Unless...
"Y'know, Nell, I don't have to return the Porsche until morning." Callen's grin is sly, hand slipping down her back, as he guides her to his car. His hand is warm against her back and when they reach the car, but her eyes widen slightly when, instead of opening her door, he closes her in, pressing her into the cool black metal.
Oh.
Wow.
He smells good.
It's sun-warmed cotton with a hint of something clean, like white soap, and the salty scent of the ocean air and sweat because he doesn't dress for the California weather. He hooks a finger under her chin, lifting her head up, and ever so slightly brushes his mouth against hers.
"Do you want this?" he murmurs.
"Yes."
A little harder, a little more pressure and, yes. So good. His mouth is hot and his lips are a little dry but soft and persistent, and she curls her fists into his lapels - Hetty, be damned - to keep herself upright. His hands slide to her hips, lifting slightly so she's up on her tip-toes and he can kiss her properly.
With tongue.
Shit.
This just might work.
xxx
"What do you say," she's barely able to breathe for his mouth peppering kisses against hers between every word. "We go for a drive?"
"Where to?"
Nell clutches his shoulders as he slides an arm around her back, bracing her against him with one hand while reaching down to open the door with the other. She draws him back into the kiss and he's helpless to stop it. He ends up releasing the half-open door and burying his hand in the red curls against the back of her head. She whimpers into his mouth, unconsciously parting her legs slightly. His hips slot perfectly in between them, effectively pinning her to the car and eliciting another whimper of his name; "G!"
"Let's go for that drive, now." his voice is growling and dangerous.
"Now?"
"If we don't, I'm going to get us arrested for public indecency." he grinds his hips against her for emphasis. "Sex in a Porsche is a Deeks thing, not a Callen thing."
"One day." Nell winks, sliding into the car.
Callen's eyes close and he pauses for a moment before closing the door and hurrying around to the other side. He'd had a hell of a time pulling away, as it was, what with her in that damn dress. If he didn't drive away soon, he was going to rip that dress off of her and have her right there in the parking lot.
So, they drive.
In the heart of L.A., veining out toward the edges of a city renowned for its beauty but hiding so many secrets. And, Nell opens up like a butterfly taking flight. Free and unabashed and so light. Laughing at everything and nothing, red hair ruffled by the wind coming in the open window. And when he looks at her, he likes the deep flush on her face, and the way her smile catches her eyes.
"Hey Nell?"
"Yeah?"
"I had a good time, tonight." he reaches over to grab her hand.
Nell just squeezes his hand and smiles brightly; "Me too, G."
For the first time in a long time, G. Callen is genuinely happy. There is so much he wants to do with this girl. So much to learn about her, from her, with her. So much to teach her about himself, about being with an agent, and he has no doubt, she'll be an avid pupil.
And, the sex is mindblowing.