A/N: Extremely short, fun, and sweet at the same time. Tweetfic-ed it... I think... a while back. Here it is as one entity.
Andy's eyes are red. Have been every since they arrived back at the station, and now, everybody can tell. It's not her fault but...
So her and Dov got called to a noise complaint that turned out to be bon fire party at some house by the Beaches, and the kid who lived there had been using the old green house as his own little grow op. His genius plan to get rid of it when he heard the sirens? Toss it right on top of the fire.
They called for backup, tried to cover their mouths and noses with the collars of their jackets, but by the time Chris and Noelle arrive on scene, they're done for. High as kites, and Dov is hiding it surprisingly well, asks some abstract questions that pertain to arresting some of the boys at the party, Andy however... Andy's just trying to keep it together while Frank instructs Sam to drive her back to the barn. Apparently Dov's still useful, she is not.
Sam is very quiet and stoic, she assumes he's ashamed of her, even though there was nothing she could do about it. Whatever it is he's not pleased with her. She fights smiling at him, because stoned or not she knows it's not fun when he's mad.
He presses his lips together when he notices her trying to hide her face in her hands, and when she notices his frustration rising, she bursts. Giggles galore, and Sam just sits there, trying not to smile at her. He's trying to figure out a way to make her fault.
Easier to be angry than anything else. They've been on each other's case ever since she got home. Arguing over leads and cases, who's guilty and innocent. Seems like intervention on Frank's behalf hasn't worked, their cases tend to cross paths.
But for the first time in a few weeks, he's smiling because of her. Her ridiculous giggles and funny little snort that only happens when she really gets going, kind of make him remember why he used to be happy enough being her friend. How that alone brightened up his day.
How he hated the way that Luke probably made her laugh like that at home. In bed too probably. He probably had some Ernie the Zamboni Driver snort worthy stories too. He imagines maybe she kinda knows what that feels like now. Now that the tables have turned.
When he takes a moment to remember how badly he wished he could forget about her, his smile falters, and her giggles cease. And she leans her head against the window, sleepy from the high.
"Don't be mad at me. S'not my fault." She says, eyes closed, the city lights acting as a little bit of sleep hypnosis.
He knows that she probably won't remember much of what's going on. Maybe she will. But it just seems like time for the feud to be over. Allow her to get some REAL closure. Not be alone the way he was.
"Not mad at you. Not any more Andy."
"You're always mad at me. Not careful, not here, not nice." She grumbles, readjusting her position to get more comfortable.
"I'm not always mad at you. And no, you're not always careful, and not always nice. And you're not ALWAYS here-"
"Am now. Not going anywhere. Here when it matters Sammy boy. Know that." At Sammy boy, she snaps again, off onto another fit of giggles. And he smiles. He's not sure why, she's basically just staked some kind of claim. But she's here. And it does matter.