For duskbutterfly, who requested: "midnight bottle."

"Seriously?"

"Hmm?"

"You're just going to sit there?"

"Is there somewhere else I should sit?"

Sam shakes his head. "Some partner you are."

"We had a deal. You get the two to four shift. It is," Callen checks his watch, "nine after three. That's not even a grey area."

"But you're up!"

Callen just shrugs. "Not my shift."

Sam grumbles all the way to the refrigerator. He blinks at the florescent light for a minute before his pupils adjust and he can find what he's looking for. "You could at least pick her up while I heat the milk."

"I'm sorry, did the time change?"

"You're heartless." Sam drops the bottle in the warmer and clicks it on.

Callen gestures to the book in his hands. "I'm in the middle of my studies."

"And you can't take a thirty-second break to ease the suffering of a helpless infant?"

"I'm in the let-cry camp."

"Remind me never to sign on to one of your dumbass plans again." Sam makes his way across the house and into Callen's - he supposes it's a guest room; hard to tell without any furniture - and retrieves the baby girl from her portable crib. Her little hands are clenched in angry fists and her cheeks are red, tears spilling from her eyes.

Sam coos as he holds her to his chest, informing her that Uncle Callen is the least cool of all her uncles and he'll probably give really shitty birthday gifts.

"Not true," Callen says, not looking up from his book as Sam returns to the kitchen. "I'll give her money. Everyone loves money."

"Yeah, I hear that's on all the little girls' wishlists. Somewhere between pony and ninja sword."

"It is if they plan on having financial stability in the future."

Sam snorts. He grabs the bottle and rests his hips against the counter, the baby's sobs quieting into sniffles the instant the milk reaches her lips.

He watches her eat for a while before looking up at Callen. "I hope Kensi and Deeks are getting enough rest tonight, because I don't plan on doing this again."

Callen smirks, nose still in his book.

Sam knows that smirk. "That's what we signed on for," he reminds him. "So they could rest."

"Sure."

"They're sleep-deprived."

"Sleep, yes. Other things too."

Sam covers one of her ears and presses the other to his chest before whispering, "I did not sign on to watch this kid so her parents could get freaky."

"Don't worry. It's Deeks. It's probably pretty vanilla."

"This is a nightmare. I'm not actually awake. That's got to be it."

"Don't be so squeamish. You're holding the physical manifestation of their sex life."

"I'm dreaming. I'm in bed. I'm warm and comfortable and this conversation never happened." He adjusts his hold on the baby. "Come on, little one. Let's leave Uncle Uncool to his farsi."

"Uncle Uncool is actually a cool nickname."

"It's all a dream. All a dream."

"See? That's why I'll be her favorite," Callen calls after Sam as he heads toward the crib. "You feed her lies and I will always tell her the truth!"

Sam ignores him and whispers to the baby. "Everyone's asleep right now. Especially your parents. Definitely your parents."