"Y'know," she mumbles into his chest, leaving a faint lipstick print on one of the buttons of his expensive Armani shirt. "They're watching."
His laughter vibrates through him, low and warm, a pleasant buzz against her cheek; "Don't worry about them."
"I can't help it." thick, false lashes flutter against her cheekbone; heavy and dark against pale, painted skin. "I feel like they know."
"What is there to know?" his mouth ghosts along her jaw. "You're my wife. I'm dancing with you. Nothing against it."
Except she isn't his wife.
Not really. They're playing pretend for a case. Tomorrow, the facade will drop. The dress will collect dust in Hetty's wardrobe room, the eyelashes will be buried under a pile of makeup wipes in her bathroom trashcan, and the silver wedding set will return to it's velvet cradle in Hetty's desk.
"Stop thinking so hard, Nell." he whispers, mouth brushing the shell of her ear. "I know what tomorrow means. We've still got a while.
Tomorrow means he's back to being Callen. The loss of the wedding band on his finger, the Armani traded for Levis, and the warmth of Nell is lost to the cool, dark room of Ops. So, he holds her tighter, breathes her in, and absorbs her warmth, before he has to give her up.
Tonight is just pretend.
Tomorrow is real.
...
"Hey," Callen catches her as she emerges from the wardrobe room. "Nell."
"Hi."
She's back to herself in a dark blue dress with a tiny floral print, a gray cardigan and matching tights, and black boots that hug her calves. Her hair is still wavy; all of the tight ringlets from the night before having been brushed out. This is Nell.
"I - um..." his voice is lost between them.
He feels like he's in shock.
Playing pretend had been fun. Having her with him, laughing over a fancy dinner and expensive wine, holding her close in an intimate dance, sleeping in an actual bed with a soft, warm body next to him. It had been nice. Now, though, everything is different. So cool and distant and he doesn't know what to do.
"I'm needed up in Ops. I have information." she barely brushes him as she slips past. "I'll see you later, Callen."
Later, up in Ops, while listening to Eric and Nell piece together the clues they need to break the case, he'll check to make sure no one is looking before slipping his thumb over the strip of his bare skin where his "wedding band" sat, not twenty-four hours before. He pays just enough attention to divide the team accordingly and as he's following Sam out, he catches a glimpse of his own longing reflected back.
Nell rubbing the skin where her wedding set had been the night before.
Last night's fantasy was so much sweeter than today's reality.