Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS: LA or its characters…

Author's Note: So… I needed a little break from writing that extremely dark, heavy fic (if you follow my stuff, I'm sure you know which one I mean). I thought this was going to be short and sweet. Just a fun little one-shot. But somehow it got dirty fast. And seems like it's just leading up to more (a tease).

WARNING: REFERENCES TO MATURE SUBJECT MATTER/INNUENDO. AND MINOR COARSE LANGUAGE. (Does it need a higher rating?)

Nell Jones growled in frustration, straining her arm muscles until her tendons popped. Just a little further. She wiggled her fingers as if the gesture might make them miraculously grow a fraction of an inch. Or maybe hex the sought-after item into falling from its perch into her clutches. But no. Of course it remained firmly ensconced, lording it over her.

There was undeniably a bit of a stubborn streak in her. It's what made her so good at analyzing data. True, her mind was quick to recognize patterns, but still, it could be tedious work. And she had never been defeated by it. Give her a data set taking up 50GB of hard drive space? No problem. But this confounded contraption was doing its damnest to best her. And it was looking like it just might succeed.

She rocked back off her knees onto her haunches, and closing her eyes, paused to take a deep breath in and out. When she opened her eyes again, the bright colors contained within the belly of the beast were still shining at her, teasing her. She would not be defeated by a piece of technology that had been invented over a hundred years ago and hadn't changed much at all in the last four decades. Squatting lower to the ground so that her ass was practically on the floor and stretching one leg out for balance, she leaned back slightly to get her shoulder better aligned with the opening and slithered her arm back into the hard plastic-flapped slot. Contorting the appendage she reached for the coveted item (which was rightfully hers) being withheld by the damnable machine. Almost. Almost. Her fingertips almost brushed the corner.

And then she heard footsteps, which caused her to freeze momentarily, her heart jumping into her throat. She considered scrambling out of her undignified position, but if she could hear their footfalls (getting ever closer), then that meant they'd already entered the hallway she was in and had a clear line of sight to her activities as soon as they'd turned that corner. She was already busted. So she might as well-

The footsteps stopped, a shadow falling over her. She leaned her head back to ascertain who had caught her in the act. Sparkling blue eyes and a broad grin greeted her.

"What are you doing, Nell?" Agent G Callen asked as he continued to look down at her, his tone filled with amusement. He was almost laughing. And Nell didn't especially appreciate his enjoyment of her predicament, despite how ridiculous it undoubtedly was.

"The vending machine ate my dollar," she said with as much dignity as she could muster as her cheeks flushed red.

He did laugh.

"It's not funny. I didn't have any lunch," Nell protested, the knot of hunger twisting in her stomach. She hastily withdrew her arm, struggling a little as her elbow caught. She gave it a hard tug, and the appendage was released suddenly, throwing her off balance to fall completely flat on her back, her ass hitting the tile floor with a 'thump.'

"Ow," she said. Callen appeared, crouched beside her sprawled out self, a look of mixed amusement and concern on his face.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah." Her cheeks were certainly aflame now, if they hadn't been before. He reached for her, and it happened so fast, she hardly knew what he was doing before she found herself standing on her own two feet once more. And it irritated her that he'd grabbed her waist, picked her up and set her to rights as if she were a small child. He could've just offered her a hand up! She swatted at the hand that was still on her waist, large and strong and warm.

"Did I ask for your help?" She gave him an admonitory look. He raised an eyebrow at her sharp tone and she softened slightly.

"Sorry. I'm just hungry," she said, adding when her manners resurfaced, "Thank you."

Callen gave her a thoughtful look, then said, "Come with me."

She had no choice but to follow as he turned and began to walk briskly down the hall. She had to jog a little to catch up with his longer strides, but her curiosity was indeed piqued enough that she temporarily forgot her hunger and the Chunky Kit Kat that was rightfully hers still being withheld by the dastardly vending machine. He led her out into the open space that housed the agents' workplaces, eventually stopping beside his desk.

Reaching for a drawer, he paused, giving her a serious look.

"Don't tell Kensi," he said. "Or she'll be pawing through my desk whenever her blood sugar drops a little."

Nell gave him a questioning look, but he only smiled, slid the drawer open and dipped a hand into its depths, producing a handful of little chocolate bars. He held out his fistful to drop several of the bite-sized candies into her hands.

"Thanks." Nell smiled, amused over the agent's secret stash. She knew Callen had a penchant for junk food, but she had thought Kensi was the only one with a notable sweet tooth. It was a touching gesture that the man who tended to isolate himself from others was sharing with her, but...

"What is it?" Callen asked, noticing her disappointment. "Don't like Three Musketeers?"

"No," Nell said, and then gave in to the book nerd in herself. "I love them. Especially D'Artagnan."

Callen gave an amused snort and a shake of his head, before he turned his studious look upon her once more.

"So, what's wrong with them?" he asked.

She'd been taught better than to complain to a person who'd just given her a helping hand, but she knew he wouldn't drop it now. So she said, "Nothing. I just like them bigger."

The corner of his mouth twitched and she mentally slapped herself in the forehead. Well, she could've phrased that a lot better. But before she could retract or clarify her statement, she discovered Callen's alluring blue eyes had begun to travel downward, tracing the entirety of her petite figure before roaming back upwards with an equally meticulous focus until his eyes finally met hers once more with an intensity that made her want to look away but found herself incapable of resisting.

"I bet you do," he said, his voice edged with a bit more gravel than his normally smooth tone.

Oh, god. This was a very strange place to find herself in. Nell would definitely like to count G Callen as more than just a colleague, as a friend. They'd even teased one another before, but nothing like sexual innuendo or tension had ever passed between them. She must just be delusional from low blood sugar. Or he was playing with her. Either way, she didn't have the patience to figure it out, and it made her a little bit snippy, which could be why she didn't just bite her tongue.

"Trust me, you get sick of it when everyone gives you miniature versions of stuff they find because..." Here she effected a mocking tone, slightly mimicking that annoying, oblivious friend, Tammy, she'd been saddled with all through high school... "they made me think of you. See, they're Nell-sized."

Tammy had turned out tall and leggy and had attracted all the athletic guys and bad boys alike. The only type Nell had ever attracted were the wholesome, sweet boys, like Eric Beale. Which was fine. They were good guys. And eventually, that was what she thought she wanted, what she liked. But that's not what she wanted. She didn't want nice boys. She wanted a man. But apparently...

"Men seem to think of a petite woman in precisely the same way as a little piece of chocolate, a little taste of something sweet but nothing to satisfy their robust appetites."

Nell promptly shut her mouth, realizing all too late the rant Callen had inadvertently teased from her. It wasn't just her neglected stomach and an uncooperative vending machine that had put her in a bad mood. Last night, after yet another unsatisfying sexual encounter, she'd dropped her current boyfriend. No big loss. She'd only put half a dozen dates spanning a month into this one. Which made her sound like a slut. Ha! She only wished. Honestly, she didn't have the time or energy to put into developing a solid personal relationship. Not at this point in her life. And she just wanted a good orgasm, the kind that supposedly could not be achieved with only the aid of artificial devices. But it looked like she was never going to get well and truly laid because men refused to handle her petite, pale-skinned body as anything besides a fragile piece of glass. Ugh! Get over yourselves! You're not so big that you're going to break me!

She flushed as she caught the curious look Callen was giving her. Was she radiating pathetic, sexually frustrated, nerdy-girl vibes? His playful smile returned and he reached into the desk drawer to pull out the entire bag of candy, placing it in her hands.

"I think you need this," he said, adding softly, "I'm not sure it will satisfy your craving, though."

Nell felt her eyes grow wide. Oh, shit. She had totally been broadcasting her lustful neediness like a bitch in heat. Oh, god. How was she ever going to restore the senior agent's opinion of her? She didn't have long to fret before her mind was severely distracted.

"And Nell," Callen said, before he leaned in so close his breath tickled her ear. The heat of his body hit her in a wave. As did the scent of him, teasing her with the aroma of gunpowder, a clean-smelling soap (maybe Ivory... Mm... definitely Ivory), and a hint of maleness in the sweat on his skin. When he spoke, his voice was low, and edged with that husky tone it'd had when he'd made indirect reference to her size preferences.

"I don't know about other men, but Fun Size satisfies my appetites."

He straightened, winked and walked away, leaving her staring after him, slack-jawed. She closed her mouth, shook herself free from the shiver and wave of heat that had shot through her body and clashed in the gooseflesh that had prickled her skin. There had been so much suggestiveness loaded into that one phrase, 'Fun Size' as it rolled off his tongue and tickled her ear. But that was just reading into things. Never a good idea when a woman's blood sugar was low and her libido was high.

She looked down at the bag. Sure, enough, it declared in bright, bold lettering, Fun Size.

Glancing around, she saw that Callen had only made it about five yards away, stopped by Sam to discuss something. The big agent's back was to Nell, and Callen kept glancing around his partner's shoulder at her. It was a subtle look, but she caught it, and knew it was for her, because, well, there was no one else milling about near the agents' desks. She calmly jumped up to perch on the edge of his desk and proceeded to unwrap one of the chocolates. Looking up again, she caught his gaze. And god help her for being so bold, but she held those blue eyes as she popped the candy whole into her mouth, licking the chocolate off her lips with the tip of her tongue before she chewed slowly, letting the nougat melt, the sugary chocolate an ecstasy for her taste buds. She closed her eyes in the pure pleasure of it before she swallowed, feeling the knot of hunger in her stomach release and the neglected organ growl for more. She ate several more of the little chocolate bars, swinging her feet like a pleased child as she sat on the edge of Callen's desk, contemplating the expression on his face as she'd teased him with consuming that first candy. She hadn't dared look at the man again, remembering the words they'd exchanged, feeling the other unsated hunger inside of her begging for her attention, knowing who to blame when she woke up in the middle of the night with damp thighs.

Because G Callen had not been talking about chocolate bars when he'd said, "Fun Size satisfies my appetites."

A/N: I know, I know. What you're thinking is 'get your butt back to working on your other fics! We need closure!'