"You're sick."

That's how he was greeted by Sam as he opened his door to his partner. No hello or "how are you" or even a quick look up and down. No, Sam took one look at him, one, and then declared that. It was horribly rude, if you asked him. Not that Sam did or else he wouldn't have said such a stupid thing.

"Hello to you too," Callen said irritably.

What? It wasn't like that's how he wanted to start his day! Accusations just flung at him like that.

"Good morning," Sam said and then repeated himself. "You're sick."

Why Callen thought that Sam would say any different, he didn't know.

"I'm not."

Sam just raised an eyebrow at him which Callen chose not to respond to. Instead, he gestured at his partner to come in. He wasn't quite ready yet. He'd taken this morning a bit slower than normal.

Not that that meant anything! He was allowed to take things easy sometimes, you know? Not everything in life had to be taken at a run. Even if you were already running a bit late due to a worse night than usual. Not that that was anything alarming, it wasn't like Callen ever had a well-rested night's sleep in the first place.

Oh, Sam was still directing a raised eyebrow at him. Rude.

"I'm not sick."

Because he wasn't. Oh, sure, his nose was raw and bright red and behind his eyes throbbed like they were being stretched. But he wasn't sick. Of course, he wasn't sick. It was his laundry detergent. That was it. He was just sensitive to it. He'd have to change it and then he would be fine. It was as easy as that. Ignoring the fact that his skin wasn't sensitive to anything and he used the cheapest unscented stuff out there and had been for years. He wasn't sick. Nope. No way.

And Sam would just have to accept it and stop staring at him like that.

"Of course, you aren't," he said patronisingly.

Callen rolled his eyes and decided to change tract instead. Maybe this would be more acceptable to his partner.

"I don't get sick."

Sam scoffed. "Everyone gets sick."

"I don't."

It wasn't a brag. It was a statement. He didn't get sick. Not once in his entire time at NCIS. And that was a lot of years.

Another scoff.

"You mean you ignore when you're sick."

Wasn't that the same thing? He still turned up for work, didn't he? And Sam was making it sound worse than it actually was. It wasn't like he sat at his desk puking everywhere or anything like that. Thankfully he hadn't had a stomach bug in years. He felt like he had to touch wood after that thought.

But no, obviously he wasn't going to go in when he was like that. And he wasn't like that, ergo, he wasn't sick. See? Easy enough to figure out.

For some reason Sam didn't see it that way. Which was unfortunate because Callen was going to go into work no matter what thought it would be good if he got a lift in.

"Why are you refusing to admit that you're sick?"

"Because I'm not sick. Hard to admit something that isn't true."

And yes, he was doubling down like some sort of particularly stupid criminal but he couldn't help himself. He was fine. He wasn't sick. And he could do his job. He was going into work today and that was that. Nothing Sam could say to him was going to stop him.

He would even walk of je had to though that didn't exactly sound pleasant. But would a sick person even consider walking? No. Further proof that he wasn't sick. That pounding headache he had meant absolutely nothing. He just needed to drink some water or something. Wasn't Deeks always going on about how important it is to stay hydrated? Callen knew he wasn't good at that.

"You are definitely sick."

What was up with Sam and this incessant need of his to prove that he was sick? He should just take Callen's word for it and let them all get on with their lives. It was easy!

Just like how ignoring a weird feeling that was going through his body was easy. He just needed to persuade Sam to stop for donuts or a bacon sandwich or something and all would be right with the world.

Sam reached an arm towards him and Callen took a step back. No way was he going to let him drag him off somewhere that wasn't work. Sam gave him an annoyed look.

"Stand still a second."

He would really rather not.

"Who has time for that when we should be heading to work? Come on!"

Pressing himself against his wall, Callen skirt around Sam to get out the door but that didn't work. Sam blocked him and pressed a hand against his forehead and almost immediately he frowned.

Callen tried to lighten the situation. "Aren't using hands meant to be pretty inaccurate when it comes to telling someone's temperature? Aren't you supposed to kiss me or something?"

"I'm not kissing you." Sam said in exasperation.

Callen based in horror. "You don't want to kiss me? That's rather mean of you."

"I'm by kissing you."

"Just a quick peck?"

"No."

"Would the cheek or the forehead be better?"

He knew that this conversation was getting more and more ridiculous but Callen couldn't seem to help himself. Especially when his partner sent him an exasperated look. It was rather funny.

"Come on, pick one," Callen coaxed

"I'm not going to pick because I'm not going to kiss you."

"Now, that's just hurtful.

"I'm not going to be able to stop you, am I?" Sam asked after letting out a particularly long-suffering sigh.

"Not unless you tie me to my bed or something."

That got him yet another eye roll.

"I can't tie you to your mattress. Your kitchen table, however..."

Callen just smirked at him, well aware that he had won this round.