Author's Note: This chapter is meh… But it needed to be in there.

Plus, I'm sorry if Nell's relationship with Eric seems out of character in this fic, but he just comes off as a creeper to me, despite the fact that the shows' writers obviously think it's cute/romantic to have him crushing so badly on Nell that he's borderline controlling/stalker. However, that being said, he wasn't as sketchy as usual in the last episode (5x14) with super kickass Nell (they're doing precisely what I'd hoped/wanted with her character).


Nell can't sleep. She almost drifts off and then snaps to full wakefulness over and over. Her brain just can't seem to settle and process the day's events. It must be the sangria and the sun exposure.

Just keep telling yourself that, Nell.

She closes her eyes, but all she can see is a dark blue gaze riveted on her face, feel steady hands tangle in her hair, stroking along her scalp and then caressing her jaw and cheeks and then warm lips on hers and her body growing warm and tingling everywhere and-

Ugh. She should've went home to her apartment. Except she'd drunk enough that she couldn't drive herself. And she has enough of her belongings at Callen's place anyway, that it's pretty much like being home. So it made sense to just stay the night, like she does several times every week, like she has the previous three days.

Water. She just needs some more water. Her brain is fuzzy from the alcohol and sun she's absorbed all day. She struggles a bit with the blanket and slides off the sofa onto her feet, grabbing the glass on the coffee table. She downs the last gulp of water, and heads for the kitchen... all the way on the other side of Callen's house. Maybe he's in his room, asleep, as he rarely is...

He isn't.

His footsteps are soft, because he's barefoot as he paces back and forth in the living room, holding a novel close to his face as he reads in the dim lamplight. Nell can't help thinking that he's definitely going to need glasses soon if he keeps straining his eyesight like this every night. She wonders if he thinks turning on the brighter overhead will wake her if the light reaches down the hall and streams under the master bedroom door. It wouldn't.

"You can turn the light on," she says as she passes.

"Did I wake you?" he asks, looking up from the pages of the book she's lent him. He claims not to be much for science fiction or fantasy, but he has already devoured the first two books of the series and looks to be about halfway through the third, too. And it is her personal favorite of the author's gun-heavy, violence-laden, monster-fighting universe. God, she delights in the surprisingly, ironically sophisticated pulp. And she admittedly always pictures a certain federal agent playing the role of the jaded, sarcastic, badass character with the mysterious past and deadly side, whose featured in the specific installment Callen's currently reading.

"Uh, no." She shakes off the little bit of embarrassment as she wonders if he has any idea which role she cast him, in the very novel he's holding. She shows him her glass of water, like she's thirteen and it's a hall pass and he's the principal... or maybe just the sexy science teacher. Oh, god. Water. She needed some "Water."

She continues on to the kitchen, knowing he's following her but not acknowledging the fact as she focuses on reaching the fridge to pull the filter-pitcher out to refill her glass. When she turns, he's right there, closer than she thought him to be. And if she hadn't grown accustomed to the stealthy nature of the man, she would've probably started and dropped the glass in surprise. Instead, she simple stares up into his face as he studies her in that intent way of his, his own expression frustratingly unreadable.

He reaches down and takes the glass from her hand, leaning into her, making her breath catch in her throat, as he places it upon the counter. He straightens, takes a step back.

"What's wrong, Nell?"

"Too much sun and sangria."

He doesn't buy it, frowning in the faint orange glow streaming in through the kitchen window from the streetlight outside.

"Is it Eric?" he asks. "I thought you two finally straightened things out?"

"It's not Eric." She fidgets. It's you, goddamn it. It's you. "We're okay. I mean... He... " She chuckles ironically. "He's sort of like Elise, you know? Or maybe it's just us. We don't know how to be clear without hurting them. Aren't capable of it, or something."

Callen places a hand on her upper arm, rubs her bicep gently with his thumb. "Nell, talking to him about how uncomfortable he was making you feel was the right thing to do."

"But I shouldn't have let him think we were really engaged, called him out in front of the others... he just made me feel like I was a child, like I can't possibly take care of myself, like he owns me."

Nell shakes her head. She doesn't want to get back into the whole mess again. She and Eric, they'd worked things out, sort of. She can't help that he has a giant crush on her, she can't help that she doesn't feel the same way, but she can, and did, let him know that his possessiveness was, well, creeping her out. Looking up to Callen she finds sympathy in his dimly lit face. Of all people, he must know how she feels, to be the center of someone's unrequited affection, to not know how to deal with it when they don't pick up the hints you've given them, or when they just seem to ignore your words. Speaking of...

"So, do you think Elise bought it? Do you think maybe she'll let go of her crush now?"

Callen shrugs his shoulders, but Nell's uncertain if that means he doesn't know, doesn't think the woman will back off... or if he's thinking about something else entirely.

"We can check," Nell says. "Maybe she felt like writing today?"

Callen nods, so Nell leads him back through his oddly (yet so very appropriately if one knows the man) empty home to the master bedroom, where they plop down on the sofa that serves as Nell's bed, and she pulls out her tablet for some internet perusal, feeling her stomach knot slightly in anticipation as she finds the link to Elise's blog and loads it.

Her weekly blog post has been updated. A quick note saying that her handsome, blue-eyed neighbor has sadly seemed to make it official with the red-haired pixie she's seen hanging around his house. The tone of the writing seems disappointed but not depressed. Maybe Callen, not knowing how to deal with the woman, over-thought things, allowed the problem to grow larger in his head than it was in reality. Maybe Nell herself has done the same with Eric... but a friend needs to know where the line is, and so does a neighbor, a neighbor that nonetheless makes Nell uncomfortable every time the dark-haired woman looks at her...

"I guess it worked," Callen says flatly. Nell can't help but study his face. It's in profile, and she only has the small table lamp turned on, but he doesn't seem as relieved as he ought to. He looks at her and she hastily averts her eyes, realizing she's been staring.

"We should... uh... probably keep up the charade for a little while, though?" she asks.

She's biting her lip, still unable to face him. She's not sure why, but she's closed her eyes tight and tensed up as if about to receive a blow, afraid for no good reason that he's going to tell her that they can call it a day, that he doesn't want her coming over anymore, that it was all just pretend, even the laughter they shared, the comfort he's given her, they've given each other. She'd doesn't want to go back to her lonely little life. It never really bothered her before, but she apparently hadn't realized what she'd been missing, living for work and not much else. She-

"Yeah," Callen says. "I think if we stick to our original arrangement... that might do the trick."

It's a close thing, but she manages to keep the sigh of relief internal. She doesn't have to think about their friendship ending before she's even prepared to consider the fact that it is indeed temporary, and how it will make her feel to be relegated back to the status of 'coworker', how painful that distance will be. The loss of him... She leans towards Callen, gently resting her head on his shoulder, his arm snaking about her shoulders and pulling her in closer to his warmth.

The silence between them is heavy, but not uncomfortable. Rather, Nell quite enjoys it, the fact that her companion does not feel the urge to fill the quietude with inane chatter, small talk, rambling thoughts. G Callen can just be, wherever he is. She's not sure if it's resultant of a confidence he's gained over the years, or if he's just naturally at ease in his own skin no matter the situation (whether it be facing down murderers, enamored neighbors or cuddling coworkers). Indeed, she's more than a little bit jealous of how comfortable the man appears, whether or not he is internally as serene as he is outwardly. Then again, perhaps it's a construct, a result of having to be his whole world for as long as he can remember. Because he never did have others to rely upon, to help compose and define his universe. He has always been alone, and perhaps that is still the constant of his being. He is alone.

But he isn't, is he? She's there. And despite how very unreadable he can be at times, Nell knows, feels it deep inside of her, at the very core of her, that G Callen likes being with her. And god help her, she absolutely loves being with him.


A/N: A little slow, I know, but there will be more exciting developments coming up next. And we needed a small peek inside Nell's head.