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A Sam/Andy fic.
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Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Rookie Blue.
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A/N: Here's another installment of the "A Different First Meeting" series.
I know a few of you wanted me to do the story where Sam and Andy have their second child, so this is it.
I hope you guys like this one, I know I'll love writing it.
As always, please read and review, I live for feedback!
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"Samantha Tamara Swarek, you put that down right this second!" Andy warned, watching as her daughter threatened to spill cranberry juice all over her lovely, white carpet.
Sammy pursed her lips into a scowl, shaking the sippy cup with mad fury, trying desperately to defy her mother.
Andy winced at the constant pain in her back, shuffling her way into the living room. "Samantha, what did I say?" she asked her, eyebrows raised, hand held out for the sippy cup.
"No!" Sammy shouted, running out of the living room and into her bedroom.
Andy sighed, rolling her eyes up at the sky. She stretched out her tired body, trying to work out some of the cramps that were constantly wracking her body. At two years old, her daughter was doing a fantastic job of pushing her buttons. Perhaps if she didn't have a second child growing within her - constantly jabbing it's tiny feet into her ribcage - she would have the energy to argue with her. But, as it was, as long as she wasn't tearing up the house, or throwing her well-staining juice all over the place, she was fine with her little temper tantrums. She pacified herself with the thought that after the "terrible twos" were done and over with, her daughter would stop being such a pain in the - "Ah!" Andy cried out, as a sudden, sharp pain rocketed through her body.
She leaned against the dresser by the wall, her face contorting with a pained wince. It last for a few seconds, but then the pain passed. Andy breathed out a long, ragged breath, carefully standing up. Her eyelids blinked rapidly, feeling a light pulse run through her body in steady waves, an aftershock of whatever had just hit her.
Andy shook her head for a moment, her hand resting automatically on her stomach. It wasn't until she recognized the symbolism of the movement that she realized what had just happened. A contraction, she thought. Her due date was only a week away.
It was possible that it was only a terrible cramp - brought on by her son's constant movement within her - so Andy waited for another contraction, timing it. It took roughly twelve minutes for the second one to hit, and when it did, it felt as though it were twice as powerful.
Andy gritted her teeth against the pain, pulling the phone off the charger by the couch. She punched in Sam's cell number, placing the phone next to her ear while she waited for a response.
"Hey, I'm just about done," Sam told her once he answered the phone. "Did you forget something on the list?"
"Sam, I'm in labor."
There was a short pause, and then the sound of glass shattering.
"What was that?" Andy asked, worried.
"Nothing, sorry," Sam spoke. "Dropped the pickles. ... I'll be right there," he told her, then hung up the phone.
Andy set the phone back down on the table by the couch, breathing steadily. "Samantha, sweetie, can you come out here?"
There was no answer. Andy remembered that her daughter was still mad at her for not letting her watch past her hour of television per day, and sighed deeply. Hoisting herself up off the couch, Andy moved into her and Sam's bedroom, grabbing the hospital bag from the closet. She made sure everything was ready, and then picked up the phone once more to call her father.
"Hey, Honey," her father greeted through the phone. "How's my girl?"
Andy smiled at the friendly tone. Ever since her father had sobered up, he hadn't missed a single phone call; she hadn't had to break into his apartment to revive him from a drunken stupor, or suffer through another missed lunch. She could depend on him now. "Hey, Dad. It's time."
"You're sure?" her dad asked excitedly.
"Pretty sure," Andy replied. "Sam's on his way home now, and then we're gonna head to the hospital. Can you meet us there?"
"I'm on my way," he assured her, his smile evident in his words.
"Thanks, Dad," Andy told him. "You'll have a handful with Samantha in the waiting room, she's having a bit of a tantrum right now."
"Ah, she loves her Papa," Tommy McNally rebutted. "We'll get along great."
Andy nodded her head, but then gasped as another contraction wracked her body.
"Andy? You okay?" her father asked in a worried voice.
After a couple seconds Andy mumbled out an answer, and then hung up the phone. When she felt stable, she walked into her daughter's room, where she was skulking on her bed. "Sweetie, we have to go to the hospital soon."
Sammy continued pouting, playing with the ear of her favorite stuffed rabbit.
"You're baby brother is going to be here soon," Andy tried next.
Sammy glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, but didn't say anything.
Andy opened her mouth, trying to think of something else to say, but then the door burst open.
"Andy?" Sam's voice called out.
"We're in Samantha's room," Andy replied, hearing him run through the house. When she saw how out-of-breath he was, she smiled softly. "We still have time," she assured him, standing up from the bed carefully.
"Okay, let's get going," Sam said quickly, ushering her out the door. "Come on, Sammy," he called out to his daughter.
She grabbed her bunny, hopping off of the bed.
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Her contractions had increased in frequency and severity, and she finally accepted the epidural.
Sam was faithful by her side, offering soothing words and ice chips.
This labor was longer than the first, and Andy was practically smacking her bed in protest. "Come on, kid! Get out of me!"
Sam smiled sadly at her, though the humor was still evident in his dark brown eyes. "He'll come when he's ready, I suppose."
Andy glared down at her stomach, tapping it with her fingers. "Oh, sure ... another one who won't listen to Mommy."
Sam smiled at that, thinking fondly of their daughter. "She'll grow out of it," he assured her.
Andy rolled her eyes. "Doubt it." Another contraction rolled through her body, but it was much more manageable with the benefit of the epidural.
Sam brought his hand up, linking his fingers with hers. "You are an amazing woman and mother, Andrea Swarek," he told her. "Even if this little guy's 'terrible twos' are worse than Samantha's, we'll work through it. It's going to be fine."
Andy tilted her head, regarding him fondly. "Well, fine ... when you put it like that."
Sam grinned, leaning down to kiss her forehead.
"Don't, I'm all sweaty and gross," she told him.
Sam responded by kissing her again on the forehead, and then moving down to her lips. After a long minute, he pulled away. "You're beautiful."
Andy smiled up at him, but any response she might have had was interrupted by the door opening.
"How are we doing in here?" her doctor asked her.
"Impatient," Andy informed her, pushing herself up a bit on the bed.
Sam helped her, his hand remaining in hers.
"Well, let's see where we're at, shall we?" Dr. Engvall spoke, moving to the bottom of the bed. He moved the blanket up, studying Andy's readiness.
"Well?" Andy asked, craning her neck to get a look at her.
Dr. Engvall poked her head up, sliding the blanket back into place. "I think we're about ready to head to the delivery room."
Andy sagged back against the bed in relief. "Finally!"
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"Here he is," her doctor told her, pulling the child all the way out and cradling him softly in her arms. She cleared the mouth and nostrils, then glanced at Sam. "Would you like to cut the cord?"
Sam moved over, glancing at his new baby boy. He took the instrument from the doctor, cutting the cord carefully.
Several shrieks and wails erupted from the baby, and a nurse took him to clean him off and get him warm.
"How does he look?" Andy asked, unable to lift herself off the bed. Her body was shaking from the adrenaline, her legs having dropped back against the bed.
"Slimy and gross," Sam joked.
Andy would have smacked him if she hadn't been so drained, so she settled for glaring at him.
Sam chuckled softly. "He looks wonderful. A little like your dad, actually."
Andy smiled at that, watching while the nurses wrapped him in a blanket and brought him over.
With a pillow propping her arm up, Andy took her newborn son into her arms. His eyes were closed, but he was very much awake. His lungs were proving just how powerful they were, screaming for the whole room - and possibly the whole ward - to hear.
"Hey there," Andy greeted him, her finger stroking his cheek. "How's my big boy?"
Sam placed a hand on her shoulder while she cooed their child, smiling down at them both.
"How's my little Thomas?" Andy asked, lowering her head to kiss his soft forehead.
"Should I go tell them?" he asked her.
Andy nodded her head, cradling her son in her arms.
Sam left the room, going down the hallway to the waiting room where Andy's father was waiting with Samantha. "Want to meet your grandson?" he asked the older man.
Tommy McNally smiled, picking Samantha up from the chair beside him and walking towards the room, wiping discretely at a stray tear that had begun to fall from his weathered eyes.
They made their way into the room, noticing that a few of the nurses had left the room. The doctor did a final check on the baby before she left as well, leaving them alone with just one nurse.
Her father set Samantha down, making his way over to Andy. "How are you holding up?" he asked her.
Andy smiled, taking her eyes off her son momentarily. "We're okay."
Tommy smiled down at his grandson, his hand coming out to brush some hair off of Andy's face.
Sam hoisted his daughter up onto the bed, making sure she didn't bounce around too much.
"Sweetie, do you want to say hello to your brother?" Andy asked her.
Sammy crawled slowly up towards her mother, peeking her head forwards to get a look at the wrinkly flesh of her tiny sibling. She crinkled her nose up and narrowed her eyes. "He looks funny."
They all had a good chuckle at that. "Well, this is what you looked like when you were born, Samantha," Andy told her.
Sammy shrugged, turning and settling down against the bed, her head resting on her mother's stomach with her arms crossed. "Nu-uh."
Andy sighed, her daughter's attitude unable to wipe the smile from her face. Maybe their son would go through the same phase in a couple years, she didn't know. But in that moment, holding her son in her arms, feeling her daughter's weight against her stomach, while her husband and father pretended like they weren't getting a little misty ... it was all worth it. All the tantrums, and the lack of sleep, and the teething, and the hungry/wet/tired crying at all hours of the night ... it was all worth it.
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The end.
Well, what did you guys think? Like it, hate it?
Reviews are appreciated, flame if you must, but constructive criticism is much more useful.
Until next time ...!
