Author's Note: Hey everyone! It's been a long while since I've been on here. Life's been pretty hectic after Hurricane Sandy, but I'm happy to report that life's beginning to return to normal.
I got this scene stuck in my head, and since I highly doubt that we'll see it on the show, I decided to write it out. Hey, that's what fan fic is for, right?Hope you enjoy!
**A huge thank you to rookiebluefan89 for the encouragement, support and BETA**
Disclaimer: I'm not affilitaed with Rookie Blue in any way, but I'm anxious to see what the people who are bring us in S4!
Sam really has no idea how they've ended up here, like this, tonight. They're just inside of Andy's condo, pressed up against the front door, or more accurately, she has him pushed up against it, and she's pressed up tightly against him.
They've had zero contact since their brief and wordless embrace on the day she got back. Sam had been lingering in his office, finishing up with some files and watching her from the corner of his eye. She was all smiles and bravado in the bullpen, but he knew better, knew her better. When they'd finally come face to face, he could see the combination of fear, relief and exhaustion in her eyes, so he offered her a slight smile and when she'd returned it with a timid one of her own, Sam cautiously opened his arms out to her. In that instant, her entire demeanor changed and her face fell as she practically slumped into him. A wave of relief came over him when he felt her arms tighten around his ribs, so he ran a comforting hand down her back, soothing himself as much as Andy. Sam closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment to breathe her in; she was there and alive and safe in his arms. When he heard her name being called from down the hall, the hug had ended just as quickly as it began. She pulled away with a small, grateful smile and he nodded back at her, prompting her to do what she had to do.
Sam really did only intend for it to be an innocent ride home. He isn't even quite sure what possessed him to offer her one; they've both basically been avoiding each other for the past few days that she's been back from the undercover op, flitting in and out of Fifteen between Headquarters, debriefings and shrink appointments. He felt a bit uncertain when she'd asked him to walk her up, but her tone was casual and the suggestion seemed innocent enough, so he'd agreed.
Who is he kidding? He missed her. He misses her.
"Sam, please," Andy's pleading now, pawing her way up his chest, and grabbing at the lapels of his jacket with the clear intent of peeling it off of him.
She's kissing him hard and desperate, taking his hands in hers to guide them around her waist and then lower. He recognizes the move; She's used it once or twice in the past when she wanted him to boost her up, wanted to wrap her long legs around his waist and be carried to the nearest horizontal surface.
He lets his hands settle on the lowest part of her back, but fights the urge to move them even a fraction of an inch downward. He knows, he friggen knows, that this is a bad idea, but - shit – the way he craves her, wants her, loves her…
Sam hears her let out a soft moan while her hot mouth moves painstakingly slow across his neck, simultaneously running her tongue up and over his pulse point and her hands down to his belt buckle. His stomach swoops and a shudder races up his spine when he feels her hot breath in his ear.
"It's been eight months, Sam," she whispers. Her confession hangs in the air for a moment, and doesn't quite register in his brain until she nips at his earlobe and stresses, "Eight really, really long months."
Sam's not exactly sure why his heart skips a beat in his chest when she says that, it's not like he thought she and Collins were doing that undercover, it's just an unexpected revelation – one that's really, really good to know.
He reacts instinctively, digging his fingers into her bottom, relishing the feel of them sinking into her soft curves.
"Andy." He's growling out her name before he can help it - partly desire, partly relief and partly a warning which she doesn't heed.
He's just about to abandon any last bit of common sense he has left - hitch her up, reverse their positions, put her up against the door, and make the best out of their vertical positioning - when he suddenly feels her body tense.
He expels a frustrated breath as he tears his mouth from hers, wondering what in the hell is going through her head now.
Andy's not quite sure why Sam offered a ride home tonight, after seemingly avoiding her for days now, but she'd easily accepted it nonetheless. Of course, there's some awkward tension between them, but she figures that they will have to work it out one way or another, if they're going to co-exist in the same division for the next however many years.
The ride home is pretty silent, save for a few inane comments on traffic and weather. Instead of talking, she spends the time discreetly studying his strong side profile, the straight line of his nose, the set of his jaw and especially the pout of his full lips. She lets herself think back to a few days prior, and how amazing it felt to be back encompassed in his strong arms, for however brief a moment. She'd missed him. She still misses him.
How the hell the drive could take so long and yet be over entirely too soon, she'd never understand. All she does know is that she's not ready to let him drive away; she's not ready to let him go.
So, here they are, standing at the door, after a feeble attempt at nonchalance from her to get him up there. She notices the smallest shake in her hands as she slowly unlocks it, and then pushes it open and glances back to silently invite him in. She watches Sam look between her and the open door dubiously, so, she extends her arm and looks at him beseechingly while she waits for him to take her hand. His Adam's apple bobs up and down twice before she feels his large, warm hand join hers.
Okay, so maybe she's being presumptuous, or even pushy, but in that moment, Andy cannot bring herself to care.
Sam's barely one step inside before she's stepping forward into his personal space, slamming the door closed behind him. She knows that they need to talk, that they have a plethora of issues and emotions and unaddressed questions between them. It's probably best if they stop, sit down to have a conversation, and maybe even lay some ground rules. In this moment though, she's close enough to feel his breath on her face and she just can't resist getting even closer. They can talk or scream or fight or whatever tomorrow.
Without another thought, she brings her lips to his, desperate for the familiar taste of Sam. He's here now, in her place, looking more delicious than she could ever remember, and she just needs him. It's been a long time, and she's only human, after all. Even if it's just for one night, she wants to pretend that they aren't as broken as she knows they are; she'll close her eyes and imagine that they are still together and still them.
Andy can feel his hesitation, but slips her arms around his waist, under his jacket and tries again, with more determination. She finally exhales when she feels him respond, feels his lips move in time with hers and his tongue gently slip inside.
She's missed this so desperately. She can't get enough of him, and not nearly fast enough. She finally manages to wrestle Sam's jacket off, but she can still sense his reluctance. At this point, though, Andy is not above begging. He's barely reciprocating and any movement he does make is beyond careful. She hates this divide that's between them, but after months upon months of overanalyzing the situation, she absolutely knows that they're both to blame for it. The thing is, she doesn't care whose fault it is anymore. She's sick of blaming herself, and even more sick of blaming him. She simply wants to fix it.
Her hands find their way to his belt, and her fingers are working as quickly as they can on the buckle, when she hears him grunt a little. She just wants to get his pants off, get her hands or mouth on him, anything. Make him remember what they were, basically. Andy needs to feel him, needs to feel the closeness and connection of him inside her, anyway she can get it.
Andy gently reminds him of how long it's been since the last time that they'd made love, the last time they'd been this close. It's been eight long months since she felt his strong hands caress her figure, his able tongue slide against hers or felt the heat of his skin against her bare body.
The groan he makes when touches her then has a ball of heat rolling through her entire being, when something suddenly dawns on her: It has been a really long time. It is entirely possible that he hasn't been waiting for her at all. For all she knows, he could be dating someone new by now.
She stiffens at the thought, and immediately pulls back to look at his face. Her mouth begins to move, spewing the thoughts from her brain before she can filter them.
"Unless it hasn't been that long for you," she gasps. "Oh my God, Sam, I didn't even think…" She shakes her head at her own stupidity. "I mean… of course it hasn't. I've been gone and we were… apart, and you are only human- " She's babbling now, mentally kicking herself for just assuming that he'd still felt the same way she did, that he'd still mean what he said six months earlier, and for assuming he'd still be hers. "I'm such an idiot," she says quietly, almost to herself.
"Andy…"
"No!" she sputters. "Sam, Geeze, I'm sorry. I just …"
Sam grabs for her, but she swiftly takes another step back, putting some distance between their overheated bodies. She shakes her head and runs her hands over her slightly disheveled attire, embarrassed and frustrated, and still unable to bring herself to look at him.
"Hey." He tries again to get her attention, but she is all nervous movement and awkward ramblings. "McNally!" he calls more firmly, and when she snaps her head up for a mere second to look him in the eye, the insecurity that he sees on her face strikes him hard and sudden, straight in the heart.
Sam understands it, though, because the thought of her being with anyone else… He feels himself frown at the thought before quickly shaking it from his head. He reaches out for her again, first with one hand, then the other. When she reluctantly lets him draw her back into him again, he has the overwhelming urge to, no, a need to comfort her, to assure her.
Still slightly breathless, he does reverse their positions. In a flash, her back is against the door, and he grabs a firm hold of her hips, squeezing them in an attempt to get her downcast eyes to meet his.
"It has," he says softly. When Andy's gaze finally returns to his face, he can see that her eyes are wide and questioning and also slightly moist, no doubt fighting to hold back tears. "It has been," he says reassuringly, bringing one hand up to brush the hair away from her face and cradle her head to his.
"Yeah?" Andy questions hopefully, with the smallest of smiles tugging at one corner of her pretty mouth.
He swears, sometimes he just wants to laugh at her. He wants to laugh out loud and tell her that he's gone a hell of a lot longer than that, for her in fact, even before he had any reason to. Now's not the time, though, and he guesses that he probably wouldn't admit that even if it were. He knows that is something that he is going to have to work on some more, but for now he decides to just keep it simple. He looks deep into her eyes and hopes that she can see the emotion, the feelings, the truth behind his. He hopes that it'll suffice for now.
"Yeah," he exhales, leaning his forehead against hers. "Of course it has."
He gets a genuine smile out of her with that, and then feels her giggle a little against his lips, just before her arms wind back around his neck. If the kiss she plants on him then is any indication, she understood the look, or at least some of the feelings behind it. Maybe she even feels the same.
"Andy," he just manages to rasp out, pulling his tongue back from hers when he feels her leg hook up around his hip.
He wants to tell her to stop, to wait, and that jumping each other's bones right now isn't going to fix anything, but his body and brain seem to be at war. The way she smells, the familiar warmth of her touch, and the way she feels - how each curve and dip of her body fits so perfectly pressed against him - it's overwhelming. It feels so amazing. It feels so right.
He reflexively bucks against her, and when he feels her hands grab tightly onto his hair, and hears the familiar needy whimper escape her throat, he can't help but to press into her even harder.
Sam knows that they need to talk. He knows that they have both changed and that they have a mountain of issues to work through, but he also knows that right now, in this moment, he can give her what she needs. What they both need.
Her head thumps back against the solid wood door as his mouth works overtime against her neck.
"Bedroom?" he hears her mumble when he starts to move further down her chest, tasting every inch of the skin that he so desperately missed.
He shakes his head slightly in the negative as he yanks her leggings down her thighs. They haven't been them in so long, that he doesn't want to wait another minute to be with her again.
"Right here," he pants into the dip of the V-neck of her sweater. "Right now."
He peeks up to see her vigorously nodding her head in agreement, and makes a silent promise to himself that they'll talk and sort this all out - tomorrow.
After all, it has been eight long months, and he is only human.