AN: This was written before season 3 started, and therefore may seem a little bit AU based on what we saw. This was only how I'd predicted they'd act in their relationship but I was slightly mistaken. Regardless, I hope you enjoy it!
Also, if there was a rating that was between T and M, I feel like this one-shot would fit in that category. So if anyone has any complaints about the T rating, please just PM me.
Thank you margie311 for the beta!
Disclaimer: I don't own Rookie Blue
Sam is aware that the morning routine in any relationship is something that takes months to work out. It's actually pretty difficult, but having Andy McNally laying against him, soft and warm under the covers, is definitely worth all the girly shit that ends up everywhere. It isn't as if he doesn't like having her there most nights of the week – he does, more than anything – but he hasn't lived with a female in quite a while and he'd forgotten how much junk they own. This particular morning, Sam had been feeling the slightest bit overwhelmed. It had taken him over five minutes to find his shaving cream under the sink and another few after that to locate a razor. To say he's irritated would be an understatement.
"Goddammit!" His growl echoes through the bathroom after the arch of his foot comes down onto the teeth of Andy's chunky hairclip
Sam hears quick footsteps a moment later as Andy jogs in, eyes wide with concern. "What happened?"
"Just stepped on your damn clip thing and it . . . Shit!" Sam hisses through his teeth, leaning back against the cool countertop and inspecting the bottom of his foot. It's… well, there are some small red marks and a bit of ripped skin. It probably shouldn't bother him considering the whole Brennan incident not too long ago. But it really does hurt like hell.
When he looks back up, he can tell Andy's fighting the urge to rolls her eyes. "You gonna be okay, honey?" she teases, her voice oozing with sarcasm. She slowly backs away with a smirk plastered across her face and he's suddenly feeling a little sardonic himself.
"Maybe if your shit wasn't everywhere," Sam mutters under his breath irritably. He gives the clip a childish, overdramatic kick to emphasize his point. He looks in her direction for a split second before he shoves a couple of cords that are hanging down from the countertop. To finish it off, he leans back over the sink to collect her multiple hair bands into a neat pile.
When Andy eventually stops and stares at him, the lack of amusement on her face is evident. "What'd you just say?"
Sam exhales a long breath and scratches at the back of his head before snidely smiling to himself; baring his teeth. "Nothing," he mumbles sarcastically.
And that, well that sets Andy off apparently. "What's your problem? You really wanna fight over a hair clip? Pretty sure you were the one who took it out of my hair and dropped it there yesterday," she glares.
Sam scoffs and shakes his head. That's just really not the point he's trying to make here. "Oh yeah? Did I put your laundry on the floor too? I must've been using all these body creams-," he trails off, shrugging his bare shoulders over-dramatically.
That takes Andy aback, her arms crossing in front of her chest defensively and her eyes narrowing in. "Um…"
"And what about your hairdryer? Guess that must've been me using it, huh? All this unruly hair…," he trails off mockingly again, with his hand moving quickly through his dark hair, as she spins around and walks away, shaking her head in disgust. Sam huffs right back, mutters a snarky un-believ-able before continuing to shave.
She returns two minutes later. And that's about the time Sam realizes what he's done. He's only just finished shaving when she walks right in behind him. She's straight-mouthed and silent and extra careful not to brush against him - to not touch him in any way. The duffel bag over her shoulder is open wide and when she picks up the hair dryer and drops it in, a self-satisfied smirk plays across her lips.
She's . . . Well… she's pretty pissed off, Sam realizes. Six weeks post-suspension and it's pretty damn easy for him to recognize at this point. After giving his face a quick rinse, Sam turns around and uses one hand to towel off, leaning back against the counter. She's moving a little frantically; she bends right over into the shower, yanking her shampoo and conditioner off of the shelves and grabbing her fruity body wash.
"Andy?" Sam questions quietly, half mumbling into the towel. The guilt digs deeper when she doesn't even bat an eyelash in his direction. Sam knows he was a jerk, but he didn't mean to make her want to leave. He tries again, a little louder this time. "Andy." She still doesn't look up. When she goes to reach for her toothbrush sitting on the side of the sink, his hand comes down on top of hers, gently.
"Hey." He tips his head down to meet her eyes. "What are you -"
Andy tears her hand away and throws the toothbrush in her bag with everything else. "What does it look likeI'm doing?" she answers with some heat, lips tight and eyebrows raised at him.
Sam pauses for a moment, bites on the inside of his cheek. He's just not really sure what way to go about this yet. She has clearly made up her mind. "It looks like you're leaving," he replies cautiously.
She shrugs, dejectedly. "Whatever." The duffel is zipped up in a flash, hair thrown back in a ponytail. She's already heading back towards the hallway when she continues. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize I'd been intruding."
Ten seconds later, the front door slams shut.
Sam scrubs a hand over his face, glancing around the bathroom. The only thing going through his mind at this point? Dammit. He should follow her; he knows that's the only way he's gonna make this right. But knowing her, she's already long gone. Probably took off in a sprint all the way back to the toilet factory.
So, instead, he strolls out into the living room and flops down on the couch. If Andy's gonna be childish and run away, he's not gonna chase her. On top of that, he's never been the type of guy to give into ridiculous demands from women. Ever. Sam nods to himself in agreement; she'll get over it and come back.
Though not five minutes later, Sam's mind begins racing.
He figures it should be bothering him, the way she seems to want to escape. If they're arguing, she'll leave the room or even the truck. If anyone insinuates things are getting serious, she sleeps at her own place that night. But the thing is, something always brings her back. She'll hold off till the last second, maybe about two minutes before she knows he'll be sleeping, but she'll call him. Could be about something completely dumb and unrelated, like 'I'm out of milk'. But the point is, Andy calls. It's almost like she never truly wantsto leave. Like maybe it's a habit. He's questioned her about it, but she denies it every time - running away and getting some air are not the same things, Sam.
Still, one day last week he had been exhausted from working all day and arguing with her all night (about something equally as stupid as this). Apparently Andy wasn't so tired though. It took her a good twenty minutes to stop shifting around after 'accidentally' elbowing him more than a few times. Somehow, Sam had mostly slept through it, which only irritated her more.
But eventually, she calmed; her fingertips slowly dragging across his abdomen and her breath warm against his shoulder. A few sleepy minutes later and Sam's arm ended up around her with his palm resting on her shoulder. Her face was against his neck when she'd suddenly whispered 'please don't let me run from you'. Sam didn't quite catch on to exactly what she meant . . . until now.
With a groan, Sam sits up and pushes himself off the couch. If this is some kind of test, he's not gonna fail. He tugs his boots on and throws on a jacket before stepping out the front door. He's half way down the front steps when he turns and spots Andy; sitting on the bench behind him with her arms crossed and the duffel sitting beside her.
The porch. That was as far as she'd run. Sam's not really sure why this is affecting him so much but it is. Despite the overall seriousness of the situation, part of him wants to grin at her right now.
Andy looks back at him for just a split second, but it's long enough for him to notice her eyes are glossed over. She sniffles and looks straight ahead again, blinking furiously and chewing on the inside of her lip.
Sam tries not to look right at her when he walks slowly across the porch. Seeing her crying and upset like this; it hurts his heart. Since really early on he's just needed to protect her, and make her feel like she's safe. It's like an overwhelming urge. He still doesn't completely understand that brain of hers, but he knows what works when she's upset and what doesn't. Most of the time anyway. So, he just leans against the wooden railing, crosses his arms and waits. He thinks back to 'If you don't wanna drive just say so' and all those times Andy pretty much told him anything he kinda, sorta (definitely) wanted to know.
The thing is, all pride and excuses aside, he really is sorry. He's been sorry since about five seconds after he blew up. But getting her to forgive him is never a quick process.
"I already called a cab, so, I'm just waiting." Her voice is coarse, a little wrecked. But she's trying really hard to cover up the fact that she's upset – maybe that he has the ability to upset her over something like this. "If that's okay with you, of course."
That one stings. Hits him in the stomach a little. "Andy, I –," Sam pauses, wincing when she swipes her fingertips under her eye.
"I'm going home. To my home. Where I'm free to leave my shitwherever I want to," Andy mocks angrily a moment later.
Sam just sighs and shakes his head. What else can he do? He's an idiot. Preparing good apologies has never been Sam's strong suit. Communicating exactly how he feels, with words, is not easy. The most he knows is; he's definitely not letting her leave this porch. He needs to regroup.
A minute later, she sighs a little. Her eyes have been focused on her lap for most of the time he's been outside.
Sam can barely contain his urge to drag her over to where he's standing. He wants to wrap his arms around her warm body, get her as close as he possibly can so that she can look nowhere but into his eyes. And then he wants to tell her that he's sorry, over and over until she just forgives him. But the moment Sam thinks he can do it, Andy cuts in first.
"If you didn't want me to be here so much you should've said something earlier," she says a little quieter than she has all morning, voice wavering on the last few words.
And Sam, well, being slapped across the face might've hurt a little less than hearing that. The fact that he is the reason she's crying – and hurt crying at that. Like this means the thing they had between them is broken now. Like maybe he's done something as bad as Callaghan and Rosati.
Sam shifts around a little though, almost wanting to step closer in hopes that Andy will lift her head. But she doesn't. "Look, I'm an asshole, okay? I'm really sorry. Just –," he clears his throat because his voice is a little rough too. "Just come back inside. It's freezing out here. And the coffee's ready." He chuckles lightly, hoping she'll relax a bit.
But when Andy doesn't look up and doesn't budge from her seat, Sam tries another way. He leans down, rests his hands on his knees and tries to meet her eyes. He softens his voice, "Sweetheart…. Please?"
Andy doesn't answer. But she's biting her lip, possibly contemplating his words, and then the quick glance up. That's good enough for Sam. He pushes himself off of the railing, throws the strap of her duffel bag over his shoulder and heads for the front door. Thankfully, the irritated sigh Sam hears from across the porch sounds half-hearted. And when he walks inside, he leaves the door wide open. If the cold won't bring her back in, the strong aroma of brewed coffee will.
A few minutes later, Sam's just stepping out of the bedroom when he finally hears her step inside and shiver before she quietly closes the door. The reflection in the window gives him an unobstructed view of the living room, and her, and he can see the surprise in her face when she looks around. Her entire duffel bag had been dumped out, her stuff strewn across the floor, the couches, the coffee table and the side tables. She stares for a minute, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. But when her cheeks twitch a little, he can tell she's holding back a smile.
He pads back into his open-concept living room and kitchen a minute later. Andy's already poured herself a cup of coffee, taking a seat on a tall stool at the island that faces the kitchen, while he sighs and crashes onto the couch in the living room behind her. Sam tries not to watch as she quietly slides her coat off and lays it on the stool beside her. At this point, Sam's really not sure if he's supposed to take that as a sign, but he hopes it means she's staying for a while.
Sam flips channels for at least twenty minutes, not staying on one for longer than a minute or two. While daytime television is usually extremely boring, the silence is driving him nuts. At this point he's a little desperate to fix this. He even cracks a dumb joke about Ollie's womanizer days, before the days of Zoe when he had more hair. Anything to get a reaction out of her. But Andy only gives a quick nod of acknowledgement and gets back to reading the paper.
Five more minutes of that; the awkwardness and the way she still won't even look in his general direction - Sam's decided he's had enough. He clicks the TV off, loudly drops the remote on the coffee table, and wanders over to her. It's at the point where he just can't stand her being mad at him anymore.
Before Andy can protest, Sam winds his arms around her waist from behind the stool and hugs her against his chest. She flinches at first, but lets him hold her. His lips are against her ear and a moment later he whispers, "I'm sorry." She doesn't object, so he nuzzles his nose into her neck. "I really didn't mean it."
Still, Andy doesn't relax; not right away. But her hand finds his, winding her fingers through the ones resting at her side. And a minute after that, her head falls back against his shoulder and she sighs. He squeezes her closer to him and presses his lips to her neck.
"Sam…," she says quietly, her hand gripping into his arm.
He loosens his arms and tugs at her waist to spin her around
The look she's giving him is hard to decipher; maybe a little hurt, maybe a little unsure, but a lot - sorry.
He moves in a little closer, the warmth of her inner thighs bleeding through his jeans. He reaches a hand up and brushes back her bangs with the pad of his thumb, tipping her face up to meet her eyes. "Andy . . . you know I want you herewith me, all the time. You could move in tomorrow if you wanted to," his voice is teasing, but he means it. If she'd do it, he'd head to her condo now and start packing. "Bring every girl thing you own with you. Fill up the house. Keep a box of tampons on the back of the toilet if you want."
She smiles a little at that, biting at her cheek to stop it from growing.
Sam sighs and gets serious. He needs her to know. "I just… overreacted . . . I don't know. Things have changed a lot in the past few months and I care a lot about you -."
He watches as her throat moves, swallowing audibly. "Changed…?"
"Good change, Andy," Sam chuckles, eyes boring into hers as his palms run up her thighs. "Probably some of the best changes I've experienced in a long time," he admits, "But look I'm still getting used to this, alright? And sometimes I say stupid shit like I did today and I'm sorry for that."
He can see the relief across her face. She smiles and smoothes her hands down the front of his sweatshirt, chilly fingers gripping in the skin at his waist. "I'm sorry about the bathroom being such a mess."
It's always killed him, how genuine she is all the time. "It wasn't that bad, I promise," he admits. He still can't believe he caused all this because he stepped on a hair clip, honestly. "And even if it was, I was an idiot about it."
Andy nods slowly. "Okay," she says, but there's something on the tip of her tongue, and he stays quiet to give her a chance to think it over. A minute later, she comes out with it. "So what happens when you get tired of things being different?" she asks quietly, looking down.
His hands drag slowly up her arms, thumbs hesitantly grazing the sides of her breasts before smoothing along her collarbone and then tilting her face up. When their eyes meet, it's his unspoken permission to move in closer. He nuzzles her nose with his own, feels her warm breath moving across his mouth. He shakes his head infinitesimally as the corners of his mouth turn up and he whispers, "Never."
Andy smiles before she kisses him then, mouth reaching up to meet his while she clutches his waist harder, pulling him close. He smiles against her mouth before his tongue slides in and she sighs. Honestly, there's a small part of Sam that fears that they'll wake up tomorrow and this will all just be a big long dream sequence. So he kisses her slower then, a little lazily.
But a minute later, when her nails scritch down along his abdomen, things between them heat up. Andy's legs wind around him, heels digging into the backs of his thighs to hold him in place and Sam groans at the contact, pressing closer. She gets to him pretty fast, if he's honest. Not that he ever expected any less. Turns out that since he's been with Andy, Sam wants to have sex a whole lot more now than he has in the past few years. There are two years to make up for, but Andy hasn't complained… yet.
Sam's hands slip down to her waist; one arm wraps around her back and the other quickly moves to get under her butt and hike her up. Andy gasps when their lips part, circling her arms around his neck to pull his mouth back against hers and wrapping her legs more firmly around his waist. He's sure Andy knows full well what that does to him. That grip she gets on him when she's completely consumed in a kiss; soft moans coming from her throat, her palm on his jaw and the tip of her nose pressing against his stubbly cheek when she kisses even deeper. He just loves it. And she's crazy if she thinks he's ever letting this go.
In a haze, Sam spins them around, kicking through her clothes scattered around the floor and gently drops her down onto the couch. She giggles and reaches for him, yanking him on top of her until he gets some weight on her. The next kiss is a little desperate; Andy's fingers slipping through the thick hair at the back of his head, her tongue massaging his. When they finally break apart, Sam nips at her jaw line, just quickly, before he moves down to suck on her neck.
"I don't really think my underwear is an appropriate piece of décor for your living room," Andy teases a minute later.
Sam huffs a laugh into her neck. "You're probably right. Needs more clothing," he mumbles between kisses, nibbling along the skin of her collarbone.
Andy rolls her eyes and squirms around a little, getting comfortable, as his hand creeps up the front of her shirt, rough fingers splaying across her belly. "Whoa!" She freezes, fingers squeezing his ascending arm.
"What?" Sam's eyes shoot up to hers, jaw dropping open slightly.
"What are you doing?" Her voice is stern, eyes hard, and Sam's suddenly not sure what the hell is going on.
"Um…I thought…?"
"Think you're forgiven?" her eyebrows knit together in what seems like legitimate concern. Well, not exactly, he thinks. It's just that he and Andy are pretty damn good at makeup sex; those endorphins make it a helluva lot easier to forgive someone, apparently. "We'll just have some sex and forget it ever happened?"
Except this time he's pretty sure he sees a hint of a smile dancing on her lips. Sam keeps his eyes on hers, runs his hand slowly up the smooth skin of her side and clasps his fingers through hers beside her head, running his thumb over her knuckles. When Andy smirks slightly, he moves down and lifts her shirt to drop kisses on her soft belly. His tongue swirls around her belly button and then lower. When he pulls back and blows lightly against the wet spots, her breath hitches and her thighs tighten against his sides. Sam grins and lifts her shirt higher to kiss her there, the vibrations of her rising heart beat running straight to his lips.
"Forgive me?" He mumbles into the soft skin covering her ribs, tilting his head up to look at her.
When their eyes meet, Andy nods, quick and serious, tugging him up to meet her lips. She pulls her shirt over her head before reaching for his, tugging it up and off before he settles back down on top of her.
"What about your cab?" he asks her between kisses, hand reaching down between them to flick open the button on her jeans. When she doesn't answer, he asks again, mumbling into her mouth. He'd let it go, he really would. But the avoidance has him curious. "Andy. Your cab?"
Her hips are moving, arching up towards the hand that lingers on her zipper. She kisses him hard. "Mmm," is all he gets in reply.
Sam gives her what she wants; shifts so that he's centered between her legs and grinds against her just once, dirty and deliberate. And whoa, the soft, surprised moan he feels vibrate against his lips almost makes him give up. He continues pressing with his hips until she stops moving, because it's obviously working really damn well for him and if she keeps squirming like this, he's not sure that he could find the willpower to hold off. Andy groans and winds her arm around his shoulders, tries again to shift her hips up, but to no avail. She knows it usually works; the heat rolling off of her right where he wants to feel it and her soft breasts pressing against his bare chest. However, this time he's determined.
Once she finally stops struggling, he breaks the kiss and lifts himself up on one elbow, looking down at her reddened cheeks and swollen lips. "You didn't call one did you?" he asks breathlessly, smirking.
Andy drops her head back against the pillow and groans, defeated. "Fine. No, I did not call a cab. Okay?" She huffs, rolling her eyes, overly dramatic.
He grins huge at that, hand skimming her breast and down her stomach. Andy bites off a whimper when he pauses to run his fingertips along the sensitive skin above the waistband of her underwear.
His fingers slip beneath, just barely, and she squirms. "So, what were you planning on doing out there in the cold?" Sam asks quietly, still smiling.
But suddenly she's quickly getting upset all over again. She shoves at him a little, tries to wiggle out from under his body. "I don't know, Sam. That's what you want to hear? I. Don't. Know."
Sam shakes his head, pulls his hand away and shifts to give her some room but doesn't move off of her. "I don't -"
"I was hurt and trying to figure out what to do and when you came outside I just panicked," her hands are flying everywhere at this point, eyes avoiding his and Sam wishes he didn't find her so incredibly endearing when she's flustered. He will not smile right now. He can't. "I wanted you to think I had everything under control and that I had a plan behind my rushed exit," she pauses and frowns before looking up at him, a little shy.
"Hey, it's okay," he starts, trying to calm her.
Andy shakes her head, more confident than he's seen her all morning. "Please just listen for a second, okay?" She plants her hands on his shoulders. "If I don't say this now I'll never get it out."
So, Sam waits.
"When we fight, I wish I didn't want to leave or run away or whatever," Andy tells him quietly. "I really, really do. Right when I got outside, a part of me was yelling 'go back' and then another part was yelling 'he's a jerk' and I just, I don't know. I want to be with you. And I know I do stupid shit too. It just freaked me out I guess, the possibility that you might not feel how I feel. Which, Yes. I know. It's stupid. I guess what I'm trying to say is," she sighs, the concern on her face slowly fading into a small smile. "I care a lot about you too."
Sam nods and the corners of his mouth turn up just a little bit when he sees her smile make an appearance. "I'm glad you stayed," he mumbles a moment later. He leans in and kisses her once before whispering, "Believe me."
Her arms are circling his neck then, pulling him closer and leaning up to nip at his lower lip. "Good," Andy tells him cockily when she lays back against the pillow. "So can you stop smiling, please?" Her eyes are rolling pretty far back in her head after she takes a look at his face. "God."
Well, that only makes him grin bigger. "Okay," he laughs, leaning in close to kiss her hot and slow, slipping a hand under her butt to hitch her thigh higher onto his hip.
She doesn't hesitate to kiss him back, palms cupping his jaw. Sam has to keep kissing her to stop himself from saying a lot of the things he wants to. Like how her not calling a cab is going to make him grin for quite a while. Maybe that he's pretty sure he's not supposed to be feeling like his heart is swelling fifteen times larger every time he thinks about her. Maybe that he loves her, and when he sees himself in the future there's not one situation that he doesn't want her to be part of. He'll say it tomorrow, he thinks, because her hands are undoing his belt and they have some serious making up to do.