Nell Jones is short.
Not an inch over five feet and it is so amusingly adorable to Callen because when he kisses her - which is often, when they're alone - she tilts up on the very tips of her toes like a ballerina, steadies herself with small hands on his broad shoulders, and grins at her accomplishment. Like, she's doing now. She's not even at eye level with him; she's looking at his nose, actually, but she doesn't care.
"Y'know," hooded blue eyes stare down at the petite red-head. "I kind of like that you're not tall."
"Why?" Nell's face scrunches up in what she feels is righteous confusion. Because, she'd love to be tall like Kensi, to have never ending legs, and a body that was the cause of every guy's wet dream.
"Because," he bends her backwards slightly, arms wrapped tight around her, forcing her to lower herself back down. "You fit."
He kisses her.
It's slow and deep and warm and she presses closer, fisting his shirt in her hands. And, all fantasies of being some tall statuesque agent like Kensi fly out of the window. As long as she fits with him, that's all that matters.