Disclaimer: Nope, Rookie Blue is definitely not mine.
Rated T, because it's not graphic. But if you think it should be higher, let me know!
A/N: Another Andy/Sam oneshot, because they belong together!
Minor spoilers for episode 5, 'Broad Daylight'.
Oh, and I'm leaving in an hour and won't be back until Sunday, so nothing more until then, sorry!
Hope you enjoy!
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You know this is wrong … in more ways than one.
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Gail was right in what she said; rookie plus training officer equals big no-no.
And besides, you don't date cops, right?
Who said anything about dating, though?, a voice inside your head chimes in. You push down the other voice that's insisting that you want to date him; because you don't want to date anyone, not now, not Sam, not for awhile … not after Luke.
(Except, maybe you do.)
But tonight isn't dating. Tonight is just him, and you, and his lips on yours. It's about forgetting the sight of a little boy laying strangled in the neighborhood park; forgetting the memory of his own father confessing to the murder. It's about not having to remember the cold look in the man's eyes, the lack of remorse … about banishing the haunting thoughts at the back of your head about how some people don't deserve to be parents. (It's about trying not to compare the mom who abandoned you without a second glance to the man who killed his own flesh and blood.)
It's about the last shred of innocent hope you'd had in the world around you … and how you lost it today; had it torn from your frozen grasp by a single, terrible act.
Tonight is all about his mouth and hands all over you, helping you forget.
That's all.
But when you wake up in the morning, you realize slowly that you slept – actually slept – with someone else, in their bed, for the first time. And then Sam wakes up, and he kisses you, and you have to remind yourself that last night was just one time. It doesn't stop you from kissing back, though. And you don't protest when he flips over, and you're underneath him again.
But it's still only one night.
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Except … it isn't.
A week later, you deal with an abandoned girl, aged fourteen, and you're assaulted again by memories of a woman you haven't seen in fourteen years. You follow procedure, and call social services, and she goes into foster care.
That night, you show up at his apartment again. He buzzes you in.
Almost as soon as you walk through the door, his lips are on yours, as greedy and insistent as you are. It's much the same as the first time … but different. Because this time every inch of him is familiar, and you don't just forget … you feel.
They scare you … the feelings that assault your senses and won't seem to leave you alone.
Because it's not supposed to mean anything; you're just supposed to forget.
But this time, afterwards, he wraps his arms around you, and your rest your head against his chest, and it's … nice. It's nice, and it's natural, and it's easy.
It's feels safe.
It's the latter that gives you the most to think about. Because if you history with men has taught you one thing, it's that relationships are not safe. They are uncontrollable, and spontaneous, and always end up with you getting hurt.
Except you think that, maybe, this is different; because this is Sam.
He's someone you trust inexplicably with your life, and your secrets, and your fears; and when he has his arms around you (like now), you feel more at home than you have recollection of ever feeling before.
And as you drift off to sleep, in his arms, you decide that you don't particularly care about your history and your experience. Because maybe this isn't just one night, but it's now … and later won't matter until it comes.
And now, he's all you want.
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Maybe it's wrong …
Maybe it's against all the rules …
And maybe it'll end badly …
But right now, nothing's ever felt more right.
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Constructive criticism is welcomed graciously!
Review, pretty please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?