Disclaimer: As cool as that would be ... ;)
Rated T, because I'm still that paranoid.
A/N: I have a million plot-bunnies following tonight's episode running around my head, and I don't think I'll be able to sleep for a little while!
This one just had to be written first!
Just quickie, but I hope you like!
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Sam Swarek. Set after 'Honor Role'.
If I didn't know you better, I'd say that you're in love.
You: Sam Swarek … in love?
No way, not possible. You learned the hard way, a long time ago, that falling in love means getting hurt. It means giving a piece of your heart to someone else; giving them the power to break you. You don't fall in love; you just don't.
(So why do Noelle's words hit you so hard? Why does it feel like she's just seen right through you; like she's managed to hit the nail right on the head?)
And that's not even all there is to consider.
Like the feeling you get when Detective Callaghan asks for help in regards to his weekend plans with McNally; like a hand is clenched around your heart, unmercifully squeezing the life out of it. You shouldn't feel that way. She's you rookie; you shouldn't care about her private life.
And you wouldn't, if you couldn't distinctly remember the way her body pressed up against yours, in your bed, before the power back came on. If you couldn't remember the way her lips felt on yours. If you couldn't remember the way you felt, as though someone had sucker-punched you in the gut, when you watched her walk out the door, back out into the rejoicing street, newly-lit by the streetlights.
Except … maybe you would.
Maybe you'd still be missing her. Maybe you'd still be wishing that she wasn't with Callaghan, and that there was no rule prohibiting rookie and TOs from engaging in romantic entanglements with each other. Maybe you'd still be wishing that she was wishing the same things.
But Sam Swarek does not fall in love, so it doesn't even really matter in the end, does it?
You ignore the thought that maybe … just maybe … you've broken your cardinal rule and fallen in love, after all, as you look down at the coffees in your hand. Seriously, just because you happened to remember that she likes her coffee with one cream, two sugars, and a shot of caramel doesn't mean you're in love.
It doesn't, you tell yourself, as you pitch it in the trash.
Because there's no way you're in love with Andy McNally.
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OMG, I'm such a hypocrite! I apologize to anyone who I've ever told in reviews that I wasn't a fan of jumping to the L-O-V-E word too soon, because I totally just contradicted myself and I'm so sorry!
Anyways, please review!
