Harsh sunlight burns through her eyelids, drawing her slowly from drunken unconsciousness. She groans loudly, turning on her side to escape from the daylight, her legs becoming increasingly entangled in lavender sheets.
Groaning and willing her eyes to open, she gains her bearings and presses her mind to account for her whereabouts and actions that ultimately lead to her current, still semi drunk position.
She remembers finishing their latest case last evening. Some underground terrorist group based in LA. Sam and Callen had infiltrated their headquarters and taken down the ringleader.
They had returned to applause and pats on the back. The team had been working this case for weeks and closing it would finally give everyone some relief. She remembers that Hetty had even let them all go home early for the weekend, which was a rarity in itself.
Then Deeks had suggested drinks to celebrate.
She strains against the fog to remember what events followed, but is only greeted with a pounding head and a tidal wave of nausea. Flashes of the night still remain with her. Dancing with Kensi, giggling, a lot, shots, playing who can secretly tap Sam the most times on the back without getting hit with Deeks, more shots, comforting Eric as he explained in between sobs how the good looking lamp in the corner of the bar had 'rejected' him (she had reassured him that there were other… lamps… out there for him.
And then what had happened?
Thanking her lucky stars that (from her memory) she hadn't done anything too stupid in the past 24 hours, she pulls herself lazily from her bed and moves into the kitchen in the hopes of finding something to dull the military band drumming in her head.
Her head moves mechanically to the source of the sound, her entire being filling with dread, as she is met with the face of the senior agent, seated comfortably on her couch.
She should have known better than to count her lucky stars. Maybe she should have counted how many shots she had last night, since that number seemed it clearly indicate just how much of a problem she has created for herself.
She should have known better than to believe she had gotten away completely free. After consuming as much alcohol as she had, she's honestly surprised that the whole team isn't currently in her apartment.
Wait no... That's disgusting.
Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, she reopens them in the hope that the whole thing is just a drunken hallucination.
But he's still there, and now she suddenly realizes, shirtless.
"You're in my apartment."
"I was hoping you could tell me."
The conversation stops there, and it suddenly dawns on her that maybe Callen was just as drunk as her last night. Which means he can't remember what happened either.
She's not sure if that's a bad thing, or a good thing.
"Let's agree to never speak of this again."
He leaves her house with an awkward smile and a wave. He's glad to see that by some miracle his car is parked outside of Nell's apartment, saving him from having to call Sam and explain somehow how he ended up at Nell's house.
Reaching for his car keys in his pocket, his hands find his phone, and he draws it out.
1 unread voice mail from: Nell Jones
Curiosity gaining the better of him, he presses the button and raises the phone to his ear, unsure of what he will hear.
"Heeeeeeyyyyyy Callen! It's Nell, I lost you in the club! Listen, I know it's been a long time since we saw, you know… each other, but I think we should get together, you hear that?" Her one sided conversation was momentarily stopped as she was consumed with giggles,
"You know? We still got a lot of good time. Like, like there was that time we went snowboarding? You remember right? I just feel like we lost touch, and I want you to know… I… I from love you more….wait, oh, more than the stars in the sky, or the sea in the fish or something. Anyway! Come round!
Message ended. Replay?
Sorry for the long wait! Exams are almost over so expect much quicker updates :D this will be a 2 part thingy on request from Angelus320 :) so suggest a word that would arc well :D