The game was coming to the climax, tension rising with every play, but the energy in the backyard had settled into something quieter. The earlier chaos of laughter, arguments, and grill smoke had faded, replaced by the occasional cheer or groan as the score shifted. The night air had cooled, crisp and biting, and though Callen barely noticed it, he could tell Nell did.
She wasn't making a big deal out of it—of course she wasn't. But he saw the way her shoulders curled inward just slightly, the way she tucked her fingers into her sleeves, like she was trying to conserve warmth without drawing attention to it.
Callen didn't even think, just reached back for the hoodie draped over his chair. Soft, worn-in, easy. A favorite of his, but—
He hesitated. He wasn't the type to do things like this, not really. And Nell wasn't the type to admit she needed something. But still, he held it out.
"Here."
She blinked, glancing at the hoodie like she hadn't realized she was cold until just now. "What?"
"You're cold," he said simply.
Nell glanced at him, then at the hoodie, her fingers twitching slightly like she was debating whether or not to take it. "I—are you sure? You're not cold?"
Callen smirked. "I'll survive."
Another breeze swept through, and he saw the exact moment she stopped pretending she wasn't shivering.
"Alright," she sighed, accepting the hoodie. "Thanks."
Her fingers brushed his as she took it—just for a second, fleeting and barely there—but something about the warmth of it lingered. She pulled the hoodie over her head, the fabric swallowing her small frame, the sleeves slipping well past her hands. She tugged them up slightly, adjusting the fit, before exhaling into the fabric with a small, satisfied sound.
"Okay," she admitted, voice quieter, "this is warm ."
Callen chuckled, shifting his gaze back toward the game. "Told you."
But he wasn't actually watching anymore.
Instead, his attention kept drifting back to her.
The sight of her in his hoodie did something to him. Not in the obvious way—though, yeah, she looked good in it—but in a way he couldn't quite put into words. She looked… right. Like she belonged in it. Like she could've worn it a dozen times before, like she could wear it again.
And for some reason, that thought lodged itself somewhere deep in his chest.
He swallowed, rolling his beer bottle between his fingers, trying to shake the feeling. He wasn't used to this—this kind of quiet awareness, this kind of pull.
But then Nell shifted, curling into the warmth of the hoodie, her focus still locked on the game, a small, content smile on her lips.
And Callen knew—no matter how this game ended, this was the moment that was going to stay with him the longest.