Follows 3.13 with a time jump.

I asked on twitter for people to send me a one word prompt and I would write an either fluffy or angsty oneshot, hopefully getting them down before Christmas.

This is the second and my new favorite RB oneshot.

The word was: BubbleBath, from RB_ANON.

(If you want to tweet me a word, its Lazer_Wolfy)

Enjoy!

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Andy McNally had been back from Project Dakota for a total of six days, two of which had been spent at the station going through debriefings and statements and evidence and the other four spent at her still unwelcoming apartment on mandatory leave for a week.

Three more days to go and she was about to climb the walls.

(Six days were there hadn't been a single word from Sam. Not even a sideways glance.)

(She refused to think about it.)

There was absolutely nothing to do; all her furniture had been organized and re-organized, every single surface in the entire apartment was spotless, there was no food that needed thrown out or immediate cooking as she had been away for nearly five months, she couldn't go for a run because it was December and the roads were sheets of ice, there was less than a week to Christmas and all her shopping had been done yesterday and all of her friends were at work.

Exactly where she wanted to be.

Damnit, she was bored!

And Nick couldn't help either, as he was out of the city today having a get together with his father for the first time in years (a topic which had only sprung up in the dead of night at the cover apartment, when they were both more than a little drunk following several anniversary dates; it had been Andy who had urged him to reconnect).

Finally, after pacing the living room a handful of times, running through a yoga video with half-hearted enthusiasm, Andy dumped some bubble back into the tub and turned on the water, scalding hot.

If she couldn't get anything done, she might as well relax.

Leaving the water to fill, Andy headed to her bedroom and snatched a mystery novel from the bedside table (a habit Luke had never understood; you worked the entire day as a cop, why read more about it at home?) and slipped out of her clothes.

Setting the book on a towel, she had just started to climb into the water when the doorbell rang.

Her head swiveled at the sound and, for a moment, all she could do was stare.

Who the hell would be at her doorstep in the middle of the day?

It wasn't Tommy; he was on a cruise with some of his AA buddies for the rest of the month.

Moving slowly, frowning when whoever it was began to pound on her door in earnest, Andy pulled on her robe and belted it loosely.

Stopping at the door, she lifted to her toes to check the peep hole.

And froze.

(Damn, he was looking absolutely gorgeous.)

After a second, she pulled upon the door shyly, dropping her gaze to her feet in self-consciousness.

It didn't really matter that she didn't look at him; Sam just brushed past her into the apartment anyway.

Holding back the squeak of surprise, Andy shut the door softly behind him, keeping her movements slow and careful as she wondered just what he was doing here.

He said nothing, just remained a glowing presence at her back (she could feel him still, even after months apart. It shouldn't surprise her that the awareness of him had never left) and waited.

On a sigh, she turned, lifted her chin and faced him.

The look in his eyes was enough to make her heart stutter; a blend of love, lust, loss, anger, confusion and pain.

Something constricted painfully in her chest.

(She had done this to him, she had broken the man she still loved despite everything.)

"Sam," she started, wanting nothing more than to erase that haunted look from his eyes and apologize, even if she still couldn't quite forgive him for walking away without a fight.

(It had taken five months, but she realized now the anger and pain she felt had blinded her to what was directly in front of her. Parts of her were still shrouded in it, but she had gained clarity while on the taskforce.)

"Would you have come?" Sam demanded.

Taken aback, she blinked once. "What?"

"Would you have come to the Penny?" he clarified, pacing forward, a fierce fire burning in his eyes.

Pulling the robe tighter around her shoulders, Andy shifted backwards in defense of the heat radiating from him.

"I don't know Sam. I really don't know," she finally whispered.

Watching some of the fire die felt like a blow to the stomach.

Feeling the need to make some of this right, she continued rapidly. "At that moment, I was still so mad at you for everything that happened, for taking your feelings and making a joke about in the locker room; not saying them until I was holding a bomb, that I couldn't see past it."

(Sam would give anything to take back the Grey's Anatomy joke right now, seeing the painful gleam on her face.)

"But, I think, maybe, I would have come. Not right away, but later." Looking at her toes again, Andy's voice dropped to a whisper. "I think I would have come."

(And all the walls between them dissolved.)

Slowly, carefully as if she were a fragile doll, Sam reached out and lifted her chin so she could look at him.

"Leaving like that was stupid," he declared, silencing her with a finger when she started to protest. "But I get it. I get that you needed your space, just like I needed mine."

"I get it," he repeated with a fond smile at her stunned expression. "I just hated that it was five months."

A flicker of regret crossed her features and Sam's heart lifted. "Sorry," she murmured.

Sam just smiled.

After that, a silence fell, a strange, almost tentative silence where they stood near the door with her in only a short robe and him in jeans and jacket as he cradled her face in his palm and they watched each other.

"Look," Sam finally spoke, "I know we have a lot of things to talk about and-"

Jumping in without thought of what was said, Andy interrupted, "there's a bubble bath waiting for me; you can stay if you want."

Then she ducked from his hand (to escape both the piercing gaze and, honestly, she had started to shiver) and made her way down the hallway.

She only prayed she had done the right thing, leaving it up to him.

Gaze following her every move down the hallway with a hungry look, Sam didn't move for a long time (and Andy had started to worry when she heard no sounds of pursuit). Then, he stripped off his jacket and dropped it to the floor with a thump, the boots following shortly after, before making his way after her.

(After five months, he knew he would always follow her.)

Hearing his footfalls behind her, a grin burst across Andy's face.

He had stayed.

They would be alright.

(Because neither were running this time.)

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I accept any sort of feedback like pie and Christmas cookies; always.