Standard disclaimers apply: NCIS: LA and its characters are property of Shane Brennan.

On Friday afternoon, the case was closed early, so Nell went to the pistol range while Eric finished his report and shut down Ops for the weekend. He moved to a computer in the electronics workshop and he programmed a refinement to Kaleidoscope until Nell came back for her bag on the way out. He heard her emerge onto the balcony above, saved his work, and shut down that last computer. He slung his bag over his shoulder and stood waiting for her.

When they entered the hallway to the doors, he broke the companionable silence. "Hey, Nell. This is kinda' an embarrassing question," Nell smiled encouragingly, but Eric wasn't looking, "but I've got this smartphone app that I've invented." Her smile disappeared. "I'm about ready to go to market with it, but it needs a cash infusion, and I'm at a limit. Would you like to invest in it?"

She stopped walking and turned to face him. "Now I'm intrigued. What does it do?"

"It's a smart-home app." He showed her the tablet. "I've got most of my place interfaced to my tablet, and I'm just putting some finishing touches on it, then it can go to market."

"Welllllll, I'd have to see it before I put any money in."

"Okay, you've got a deal. Let me just start up the Roomba," he tapped some buttons, "and start up the ice-cream maker: I loaded it this morning for Italian ice, and all day it's been keeping it cold, but now I'll let it freeze. By the time I've sold you on this app, we'll be able to enjoy some fresh lemon ice."

"You've got this all planned out, Beale, haven't you?"

"Ummm...yeah?"

"That's okay. I'm curious. Separate cars okay?"

Eric smiled. "Sounds good. I'll see you there."

He followed her to his place, but when they met on the sidewalk, he tapped some keys on his tablet, and the lights came on in his bungalow. He pulled his chin thoughtfully, looked at Nell's Mini and tapped some more keys, and inside the house the Beach Boys started playing "Little Deuce Coupe." When they reached for the door, Eric opened it without any keys.

Nell scowled. "Tell me you didn't leave your house unlocked all day, Eric."

"Nah, I unlocked it remotely when we got here."

"Well, you know how to impress a lady."

He blushed, "At least this lady, I hope." There was a pause, then Eric continued, "Some panini, too? I can turn on my popcorn machine and panini grill from here."

"Cool! But I'm more in the mood for Chinese tonight."

"Okay. Here's the place I use for delivery."

They ordered, and then returned to discussing his app. Eric tapped at his controls again. "What kind of music would you like?"

"I'm kind of in a Dave Brubeck mood. Would that work for you?"

"That's great," he said as 'Blue Rondo a la Turk' came over his speakers.

After a few minutes of technical talk about the program's security features, the tablet dinged. "Stranger, stranger," it said with Eric's voice, and a photo appeared, of a guy on Eric's sidewalk carrying Chinese food.

"So you've got it doing facial rec?"

"Yep." He clicked some controls on his tablet which unlocked the door, and he was making his way to his wallet on the table when the doorbell rang. "I just used photos of the team and Ira. Nobody else comes over here much."

"And coding for facial rec?"

"All open-source. You can imagine the grief I'd get if I used NCIS programming for this app." He opened the door and paid for the food. The delivery driver's eyes shot open when he said, "Keep the change." After he closed the door, he continued describing the software for Nell. "It's slow and not nearly as sophisticated as what we use at work, but for a small comparison set, it works."

They sat and enjoyed their dinner, interrupted only by the chime of the ice-cream maker.

As they finished the Italian ice, he continued. "Now let me show you the morning subroutines." She watched as he typed on the computer, but the surf report came up instead.

"A surf report? That's a bug, Eric."

"No it isn't. Since my wake-up depends on what the surf will be like, I just check the surf prediction for tomorrow as I plan my evening and morning." He tapped a button that said "Code?" and he typed in the number 10.

"Code ten?"

"Yeah. If I'm going surfing, then I get woken to 'Surfin' Safari,' and the coffee pot grinds the beans and starts brewing twenty minutes before sunup. My TV and video games give me warnings eight hours before, so I can get enough rest. And code ten? I use that 'cause of 'hang ten.' If the surf will be bad, and tomorrow's a work day, then I'm going straight to work, so it's 'California Dreamin',' with the same coffee at seven. That's code twenty-two. Think two plus two, 'cause it's a school night. If it's a weekend, and the surf's gonna be bad, then there's no alarm and the coffee gets ground for espresso the night before. I use code fifty-five, like the S's in Saturday and Sunday." Eric continued, "So you see, I've got all the options covered: if I'm going surfing, it's code ten; straight to work and it's code twenty-two; sleeping in is code fifty-five."

"Yup, but what if there's a lady-friend coming over."

Eric gulped, "A lady-friend? You mean like a girlfriend?"

"Lady-friend, girlfriend, friend-with-benefits. You wouldn't want to wake her up with 'Surfin' Safari' before the sun comes up."

"You understand, this is Eric Beale you're talkin' to, the guy who uses his bedpost to tally the computers he's revived."

Nell blushed. "I'm still embarrassed that I said that."

"Me, too." He shook his head ruefully. "But my point stands. I'm not gonna' reprogram my house for one hell-freezes-over possibility."

Nell interrupted. "Your love-life is just between you and the ladies involved."

"What ladies?" Eric muttered.

Nell continued, "But when you...we," Eric looked up, startled, "take it to market," unnoticed by Nell, his face melted as she continued. "the first clients will be movie-stars, sports stars, and the moguls they work for."

"I've got an in with L.L. Cool J. I bet he'd like this system," Eric enthused.

"And you can bet that they,"

"or at least some of them,"

"would like to do that sort of ... umm... entertaining. So I think we ought to program in the possibility."

Eric's eyes grew big, then took on a mischievous twinkle. Nell, looking away, didn't notice. "Okay, now I see your point. It would be easy enough to add another subroutine. What d'ya think it should look like?"

"Hmm..." Nell looked around. "You don't have a fireplace, so that's out."

"No, but I could put a fireplace screensaver on the flat-screen." He tapped his tablet, and golden flames appeared on the flat-screen on the other side of the room.

"Then turn on the hot-tub," Eric continued.

Nell turned around quickly. "You've got a hot-tub?"

"No, but the clients probably will, so I'm building it in now."

"Then there's the lighting," Nell continued.

"What would you suggest?"

"Nothing too bright." While Nell watched, Eric tapped away and a light came on in his bookshelf, illuminating a fossilized fern he displayed there. "And..." and a string of chili-lights came on over the window. Then the overhead lights went off. "Whoops! Too dark!" The light came on in his wine rack and under the kitchen cabinet. "How's that?" he asked.

"'Bout right. How 'bout in the bedroom?"

"Overhead light off... Side-table light on." And the light seeping under the door changed. He looked up and explained, "I've got a spare side-table opposite my bed." He looked up at Nell. "Anything else I -umm- we should program in?"

"I dunno. Maybe one of those electric fragrance dispensers?"

I can pick one up tomorrow. I'll just program the outlet tonight." He tapped away on his tablet, then looked up. "What fragrance, though? Something like ocean sandalwood?"

"Yeah. Keep it macho, so not too flowery. And not too strong."

"Okay. First fifteen minutes." He disappeared for a second, returning with a Despicable Me Minion night light. "Minion figures: I thought they were going to be great investments, but they tanked. We can use this instead of the fragrance dispenser, just for testing." He looked up. "Anything else, Ms. Lovecraft?"

"Can you think of anything for the kitchen?"

"I can put the dishwasher on lockout."

"Yeah! I've heard your dishwasher, Beale. It would kinda kill the mood."

Eric smirked. "Just kinda?"

"And music,"

"What would you suggest?" Eric prodded.

"What? You don't have a nookie playlist?"

"Who? Me? We've had this conversation, Nell... Bedpost, remember?"

"But isn't a guy s'posed to be prepared. Boy Scout Marching Song, and all that stuff?"

"That's not what they were talking about." He turned away dismissively.

"Are you saying you're not prepared?" Nell prodded.

"Well, if you must know, one in the wallet; eleven in the bedside table."

"Eleven? That's optimistic!"

Eric shook his head ruefully. "That's what happens when they come in boxes of twelve."

Nell smiled like an attorney during cross-examination. "That's what happens when you don't have a nookie playlist."

Frustration colored his voice. "Are you sayin' my bedpost isn't used for its natural purpose, just 'cause I don't have the right playlist?"

"No, Eric. I'm saying you get what you think you deserve." She looked like she was itching to shake some sense into him. "Whenever anything approaching an opportunity comes up, you subconsciously shut it down, 'cause you don't feel ready, or deserving. The playlist is just a symptom."

The red on Eric's cheek was no longer from embarrassment, but from anger. "Who are you, Nell, my investor or my life coach?"

"I'm your friend, Eric, and I'm sayin' you're a good person and you deserve to be happy! So let's just pick some music and get down to it."

Eric looked up, startled. "Wh...what?"

Now it was Nell who blushed. "You know what I meant! I meant let's pick some music and see what else it would take to turn this place into a love nest."

"A good realtor?" Eric muttered.

Nell looked exasperated. "Enough, already!"

In silence, they glared at each other. Finally, Eric came out of it and his posture softened. "I've heard the Bolero is good," he said with contrition.

"Too obvious."

Eric rolled his eyes. "Alright, Ms. Jones. Tell me what's on your nookie playlist."

"I guess I'd choose some smooth jazz, like Kenny G., and maybe some of the quieter Motown hits: Marvin Gaye, Lionel Richie."

He programmed that it, and a soprano sax replaced Brubeck's "Unsquare Dance." He looked up with surprise when his mind caught up with his fingers. "But wait a minute! You said 'I'd choose.' That's the unreal conditional tense. That implies you don't actually have a nookie playlist either!"

She stepped closer, and levered her face up to his. "What are you going to do about it, Beale? Send me to the Grammar Gulag?"

"Nope, it's the Hypocrisy Supermax for you." His forefinger spiraled in toward her accusingly. "What's good for the goose is good for the gander."

"Okay, you got me, but in this case, I guess it would be what's good for the gander is good for the...goose." As she finished her thought, she pinched his butt.

"Hey!" After a minute, Eric's taps on the keypad took on a triumphant rhythm. "Now all we need is a code number, like code ten for surf days."

Nell looked at one corner of Eric's ceiling. "How 'bout code thirty?"

He looked up, surprised. "Why thirty?"

"What's that in Roman numerals, Beale?" She smirked.

"You don't mess around. That's as good a number as any."

Nell watched as he closed the programming screen and the tablet returned to its home screen.

"Shall we give it a try?" When Eric's head shot up, Nell blushed. "You know what I meant! I meant a dry run. Check for bugs... all that stuff."

"Oh, yeah... makes sense. Okay. Let's go outside so we can start it up."

They walked to the front sidewalk, and Eric tapped on his tablet. "Let me just lock up... There..."

"Okay, Beale. Show me how it works."

Eric squared his shoulders. "Nell, would you like to come over to my place?"

She giggled. "What did you have in mind?"

"Anything you wanted."

"Anything? You're on."

"Okay. Code thirty." With that, the Minion night light came on, and they could see its tan and red light through the window. "That would be the fragrance. Then we get here, I unlock the door, and the mood lighting and music come on." They did, obligingly. "Shall we step inside and see what happens?"

Just then, their phones rang their I.M. alerts. They rolled their eyes before they checked the messages. Afterward, Nell looked up to state the obvious. "We've got a case."

"Sam is going to be mad. He'd planned date night with Michelle."

"That's not so bad as for you. Even your house thought you were going to get lucky tonight."

"Smart houses can be so stupid sometimes. See you at the mission?"

"See you there," and she gave him an underhanded high-five.