The bar was already packed by the time Nell pushed open the door, the low hum of conversation, laughter, and the occasional cheer from the TVs overhead filling the space. She stepped inside, shaking off the lingering chill from outside, and barely had a moment to take it all in before she spotted him.

Callen.

Leaning casually against the wall in the small hallway just inside the entrance, he was waiting. And in his hands—because of course he wasn't going to let her off the hook—was his Patriots jersey.

She rolled her eyes, already smirking. "You really weren't going to let me forget, were you?"

His answering grin was pure mischief. "A bet's a bet, Nell."

She sighed, but it was mostly for show. Truth be told, she'd been expecting this. She'd lost, after all, and Callen had never been one to pass up an opportunity to rub it in.

Still, as she reached for the jersey, she felt the weight of his eyes on her—assessing, teasing, but something else, too. Something softer.

Sliding it over her head, she immediately realized just how big it was on her. The sleeves practically swallowed her hands, and the hem fell almost to her knees. She tugged at the fabric, giving Callen a dry look. "This thing is huge."

Callen just stared at her for a second, then let out a low chuckle. "Yeah."

Something about his tone made her pause—like maybe he hadn't expected her to look quite like that in it. His usual smug confidence was still there, but now there was something quieter underneath.

She tilted her head, amused. "You okay there, Callen?"

He blinked, then smirked, covering whatever had just flickered through his thoughts. "I just didn't realize the Patriots jersey would suit you so well."

She huffed out a laugh, shaking her head. "Come on, before you start writing a sonnet about it."

As they made their way toward the table, Nell could already see the rest of the team waiting—Sam, Kensi, Deeks, and Eric, all of whom had very clearly been anticipating this moment.

Deeks spotted her first and immediately let out a low whistle. "Oh, this is way better than I imagined."

Sam grinned, shaking his head. "Gotta say, Nell, I never thought I'd see the day."

Eric, who had been nursing his drink, just gaped. "This feels… wrong on a fundamental level."

Kensi smirked, giving Callen a knowing look. "Careful, Callen, she might actually start liking the team."

Callen shrugged, sliding into the seat beside Nell like he hadn't just been staring at her a minute ago. "Stranger things have happened."

Nell scoffed, adjusting the jersey's oversized collar. "I feel like I'm wearing a tent."

Deeks grinned. "Yeah, but you wear it well."

Nell rolled her eyes as the table erupted in laughter, but the warmth creeping up the back of her neck betrayed her.

Callen, ever observant, leaned in just slightly, dropping his voice so only she could hear. "You could roll up the sleeves, you know."

She shot him a look, lips twitching. "Or I could just drown in it and make you feel bad about making me wear it."

His smirk deepened. "I don't feel bad."

She exhaled a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Of course you don't."

But then, without thinking too much about it, she did exactly what he suggested—rolling the sleeves up until her hands were free. Callen watched the movement, his gaze dipping briefly to her wrists, before meeting her eyes again.

And suddenly, the teasing edge between them shifted.

The banter was still there, still easy, but there was something else threaded through it now. Something a little less playful. A little more charged.

And judging by the way Callen's smirk had softened—his attention lingering just a second longer than necessary—she wasn't imagining it.

Nell took a sip of her drink, suppressing a smile.

The game was over. She'd lost the bet.

But somehow, sitting here, wrapped in Callen's jersey, feeling the weight of his attention, she didn't really mind losing.