A/N Several weeks ago I started obsessing over all things boxing, and that the sport's analogies to Sam/Andy. To cut a very long story short. I tweeted something or other to the very awesome dcj (aka dcjeffrey, if you're looking for her Twitter handle) that went a little something like this:
ME: Another boxing-fic idea! Andy v Marlo!
DCJ: 'Maybe charity match. Andy volunteers first, Marlo decides she wants to show who's boss, mark her territory'.
To cut an even longer story shorter, here begins the end result of a collaboration that has now spanned over 200 pages and 90,000 words (excluding a whole bunch of tweets, messages, emails, comments etc etc) that have managed to keep one or the both of us off the 'Rookie Blue' ledge at various times.
The fic itself takes place over a few days in our AU of early Season 4. (Apparently a LOT can happen in just a few days).
We hope you have as much fun reading as we have writing this thing.
Co-written with dcj
Disclaimer: We do not own Rookie Blue
'Let's get ready to rumble!'
"Rhythm is everything in boxing. Every move you make starts with your heart, and that's in rhythm or you're in trouble."—Sugar Ray Robinson
Andy's standing up at the front of the room next to Frank, bright smiles for both up until a couple of seconds ago when Andy's might have lost a little lustre.
The hugs and handshakes and welcome backs are a couple weeks gone and past. Dakota sitting more like a regret than an accomplishment; a handful of his first words to her still echo in Andy's ear whenever she allows herself a moment of weakness, a passing thought, a fleeting glance –
'I've been seeing someone. It's new.'
'You like her?'
'She's easy to bearound.'
But she is not going to be weak, not now, not in front of everyone, especially not in front of him… or her. She looks straight ahead as her hands find their way to her hips.
Frank had mentioned the charity boxing match in parade yesterday, said he'd be looking for volunteers this morning. Girl's night, two bottles in, and Andy and Gail had it all worked out. They'd put a little bug in Dov's ear and let the games begin.
Did you hear? Peck's gunning for McNally, wants some payback for kissing Collins for the better part of six months.
Except when Best asks for a second, a different volunteer jumps in, on their feet before Gail even opens her mouth, and getting in the way of Andy's perfect plan… again.
Sam stands up the back of the room, spine straight and stiff against the brickwork that's right near the door. He chews on his gum, gives the residual caffeine on his tongue a fresh burst of mint. His pulse-rate has been quick for a while, even though his brain reminds him 'it's over,' the rest of his body is yet to catch up. Still. He's got this, refuses to give in to the doubts that McNally replanted two weeks ago –
'You didn't wait?'
'You expected me to?'
He watches McNally take on her tough-guy stance, flexing what looks to be a little extra muscle, and that smile… She looks good, never better in fact. She's better off without him. Her life is -
She appears confident, despite the fidgeting and avoidance of Sam's side of the room. He's pretty certain the rookies fixed this match-up; will have Peck or Nash step up to fight her. He briefly entertains the thought of putting his own hand up, let her beat him to a pulp.
It's only when he realizes who has volunteered to be her opponent in the time he's been daydreaming that Sam considers he might actually need a pill for his heart.
He looks around slowly, tries to establish whether anyone else can hear the inside of his chest thumping. He wonders whether they can see the three beads of sweat that are currently working their way down his right temple.
The statement 'She's easy to be around,' makes a liar of Sam.
(Cruz knows some of the history, not all of it though. He can't even admit to himself just how much in love with McNally...how heartbroken -)
Still, Marlo knows enough. He's not sure why she'd spoil the party the rookies seem to have planned –
He crosses his arms, frowns a little. He really doesn't like the thought of Cruz stamping her authority on McNally, if that's what this is.
Still…he guesses it might be…interesting…to see these two go toe to toe; see how they match up in a ring. He looks over at Andy, can't help the small smile that forms on his mouth.
The 'tough guy' stance is even more prominent than before; the smile's gone and she's leading with that sharp chin of hers now. The eyebrow is up too, reminding Sam of her juice-related preferences (amongst other things). And her eyes. Her eyes are a warning glare. Sam's pretty sure Marlo would be dead on the spot if looks could kill.
"Bring it." Sam's thoughts are interrupted by a snort out of the mouth of McNally.
Sam can't help himself; has to work pretty hard at holding in a proud laugh. He chews the inside of his cheek, has to look away from her. This is ridiculous. He really, really cannot let himself get caught up in all this –
He made a vow to himself two weeks ago: He needs to stay focused, keep moving forward with life.
For starters, he wants to put a stamp on his new job, focus on being a solid detective, it's time to take on the challenges and opportunities that aren't available to uniforms or UC ops. And he's still learning some of the ropes.
He cannot afford to get… distracted. Knows how easy it would be to let that happen, especially now that she's here… within reach.
He can't do it. Doesn't want either of them to be that...broken...again.
'No going back.'
When Sam turns away, he doesn't get the outlook that is the fresh one he needs right now. What he sees is one that is a little too familiar; an old dog that knows too many tricks. It's Oliver watching him closely, chin in his palm and a shit-eating grin on his face.
Sam scowls. He really doesn't need his buddy butting in at every twist and turn of his life. He's already copped one too many lectures over this past 6 months or so. He gives Shaw half an eyeroll, pulls his arms a little tighter to his chest, and shifts around on his perch so he can put both McNally and Shaw behind him –
Unfortunately, that throws him right into Marlo's sights, and from the looks of things; she's been expecting him…for a while now.
She lifts an inquiring brow as his mind blindly searches for the best possible response. He's been working especially hard at his campaign for this past two weeks –
'It's in the past.'
He's had six months to accept it, actually thought he had. Does not relish the idea of starting all over again.
It took him two weeks before he could even convince himself that she had walked away. Just about wore out the heavy bag when it finally sunk in – his chance was gone. Went home exhausted almost every night, but he figured that was a whole lot better than drunk and bitter.
When the idea of becoming a detective came up, he actually surprised himself by taking it seriously. Told himself she made the choice to pursue job opportunities so why shouldn't he. If she could move on to bigger and better things, maybe he should too. So he threw himself into the course and into his work; he was going to show her.
He made himself so busy that he didn't have to think about what was missing, who was missing. He was moving on.
Except when they gave him that gold shield in parade that morning, the first face he looked for was hers.
Show her…
Yeah right.
The celebratory drinks at the Penny didn't go down as smoothly as he had planned; he may have commiserated with a few more alone once he got home.
The next morning he went for a run, blinding headache and all. He'd woken up with the decision hanging heavy; he could wallow and pine, or he could keep moving. Figured the former didn't work out so great on previous occasions, so move it would be. Regular morning runs was a start.
It wasn't long after he moved up to the D's office that Cruz came along to take the spot as a T.O. and new drinking companion. With no Jerry, and Oliver spending more time at home, Marlo became good company. She was friendly, and genuinely interested in Sam –
'It's hard to make friends in this business, Swarek. That's why we tend to stick with our kind.'
A few drinks out, a couple of movies, the odd pizza; for the first time in months and months, Sam felt like he had some sort of social life.
She was happy with easy and casual, no questions asked.
He's not even sure when the 'casual' became a little more 'regular', but that's where it's at...
He nods reassuringly, more to himself than Cruz. Thinks he's getting good at it proving his efforts. Attentive – check. Affectionate – check. Supportive…
He decides to fall back on his go-to, flashes her the dimples and then follows it up with a wink and a nod. He can't tell if it's done the trick though because Best calls her out right then, summons her up to stand beside him and McNally.
Sam drags his eyes slowly towards the front, takes the long way around, a little afraid of what might be waiting for him.
He ignores the grin Oliver's still got going while carefully avoiding the eyes that appear to be cataloguing his every move… and there are a lot of them. His jaw clenches when money already starts to change hands. When he finally lifts his eyes, he decides Best is the safest choice to focus on.
Sam's relief is short-lived though, 'safe' is not exactly what the boss looks like right now. In fact, Sam's unsure of the last time he may have seen Frank so…beside himself with excitement?... (Well, except for the birth of his child).
Best's eyes have gone shiny at the sight of the money, and he's flashing one hell of a grin. He looks between the two women in front of him eagerly, drills some holes with his stare. "I'm counting on you two to put on a good show."
"Yes, sir," Andy nods, standing to attention like she might've got some training from GI Joe while they were UC.
Cruz just stands there, a wry smirk on her face. She looks Andy's form up and down a couple of times. "As long as you don't mind your shows a little short."
Sam's eyebrows shoot up. He's mildly impressed that Marlo's that sure of herself, but then he feels his head shaking…she has no idea of how determined and persistent McNally is. How quick and strong -
How stubbornly hard she is to knock off her feet.
Sam feels a couple of slaps on his shoulder, hears Ollie chuckle right near his ear. "I dunno about you, brother. But I know where my money will be."
Sam keeps his eyes glued to the front. If this were anybody else, he'd be all over it like a dirty shirt, side bets with Oliver and anyone else who would take 'em, but as it stands he thinks it might be best to keep his wallet, and his mouth shut.
As the room starts to clear out, Andy pauses, waits until Traci drags Dov out the door, turns to her competition, squares up her bony shoulders and thrusts out her hand. "May the best woman win," she offers with only a mild undercurrent.
Marlo huffs out a breath, latches on to McNally's hand with the grip of a trucker. "Oh I intend to. You signed up for dental?"
Andy's eyes flash wide before she narrows her gaze. "You do realize this is for charity right?" She remembers last year; Chris came out of it without even a scratch.
"Boss said he wants a show," Marlo shrugs, "I intend to give him one, and anyone else who might need convincing."
Andy doesn't miss the pointed glance back at Sam, tells herself she should probably just walk away… but if those six months UC taught her anything, it's to stop jumping into things blindly. "You making this personal?"
Marlo almost cackles. "Please, it's been nothing BUT personal with you since you got back."
(She can recall clearly McNally's first week after Dakota. It's like she had no idea where the lines were, still doesn't.
First day back and she's somehow got Sam riding next to her, even got him shot at… and still talked him into a ride to the Penny the next night.
She knows for a fact that Sam told her about the two of them that night, well she's pretty sure – she could tell by the way McNally pouted for the rest of the evening. And then the girl spent the better part of the week staring at Swarek when she thought no one was looking… still does. Marlo tries not to think about the time or two she might have caught Sam staring back.)
"Not even a week in and you were already throwing a fit when Sam took my side." It was Andy's third day back; Best had them paired together. And of course… of course, they disagree on tactics. Marlo lifts a hand to stop what she knows will be the next words out of McNally's mouth. "Whether I was right or wrong doesn't matter; you need to respect the chain of command, recognize that some of us have more experience than you do."
She bears down on McNally. "Maybe if you didn't call all the senior officers by their first names you might be able to keep it professional. How you got Shaw to chase you down and beg you to come back to the Penny, I'll never know," she mutters to herself afterward.
Andy really cannot believe it. (First of all, that happened after hours… and she was hurt… and … the talk with Sam definitely did not go as planned… and there was no way she felt like going for a drink, didn't need anyone to see just how broken she was after Sam told her he couldn't go back. But Oliver… how do you say no to the man?
She was hurt and crying, and yes he came out for her, but she never asked him to. He found her and brought her back to the Penny because he's her friend; he has her back. It doesn't mean she doesn't respect him. It just means he cares; they both do. And seriously, if the woman knew anything about Oliver, she would know that the only time it takes force to get Oliver to do something is when you're trying to STOP him from sticking his nose in.)
Andy swallows her tongue for a second. She's trying to be the bigger person here, has actually been making a concerted effort to avoid any and all situations that put her anywhere near Sam or Cruz… but especially Sam. The temptation… is just too strong. She still wants him, can't help it; it's like this deep-rooted need.
But she made a promise to herself. And despite the one disastrous shift that Frank chose to pair her with Cruz, she's actually succeeded. Ducks out of the Penny early, ends each night with her new mantra…
If you love something, set it free…
God she wishes he would come back, but she wants him to want to, and no matter what Marlo might think she won't force his hand. Wants him to figure it out on his own. "You challenged me remember?"
"Thought it might be a good chance to show you what I'm all about. Maybe you might even learn a thing or two about respecting boundaries."
When Marlo's eyes dart to Sam of their own accord, Andy rolls hers and then steps right into Cruz's personal space.
"I've done nothing BUT respect the boundaries, can't miss them actually," (the woman's practically pissed all around Sam's office); "but if you're worried about me getting too close to your bo-undaries, think there's a fight here somewhere, that's on you."
Andy doesn't wait for her to respond. She flips on her heel, spies her partner at the back of the room smirking at his best friend. "Oliver!"
Oliver jumps up from his perch next to Sam, almost skips to catch up with her. He might as well have a towel draped over his shoulders the way he starts rubbing at hers like he's Mickey the trainer. "I'm with you champ!"
Sam's eyes follow his best friend and McNally out of the room. If he wasn't feeling unsettled before, he is now. He can't quite put his finger on the exact source of the problem. All of his faculties are waging their own internal battle - head, heart, and gut.
He's about to stand up and follow what he thinks could be the instinct of all three, when he feels Marlo's small but strong hand clutch at his wrist –
"Hey," he smiles down at her, feeling a little caught out about where he may have been headed. And because he's curious; "didn't know you liked boxing?"
She winks up at him, gives him a grin. "Well, that's because you've still got a lot left to learn about me..."
Sam's head spins just enough for him to recognize the physical symptoms he normally responds with when similar lines have been delivered to him before –
He practically chokes. Some mild panic and nausea set in as well.
He knows exactly what the problem is here: 'Regular' doesn't generally stay just...'casual regular' for very long; 'Regular' becomes 'regular with expectations'...
He grits his teeth and attempts another grin despite the constriction in his throat and his veins.
Cruz grins up at him baring her teeth, eyes smiling and by all appearances without a care in the world. "See you for lunch." She reaches up and gives him a peck on the cheek. Sam recognizes the proposal wasn't an invitation per se when she doesn't wait for a response –
The tiny brunette just taps at his ass and walks out of the pit.
Sam reaches into his pocket, digs deep for fresh gum.
Sam looks at his watch a few minutes later; experiences some mild palpitations when his phone alerts him to a text from Cruz that states she forgot to ask him what time, and where to meet him for food later.
He puts his thumb over the centre of the keypad, deliberates about how best to respond. He's not –
He's not, not wanting to see her during their shift. He does enjoy her company. Enjoys her easy smile, common interests, her no-nonsense take on policing and life. She's attractive and funny, bright…
Doesn't ask too many questions –
Doesn't really give too many answers herself.
And unlike every time Sam's around McNally, when he's with Cruz, he doesn't feel like there's a bomb about to go off.
Still. He has noticed Marlo's been pushing a couple of extra buttons this past couple of weeks. Getting into his 'space' a little more often, encouraging him to talk about 'feelings', that type of thing…
He briefly considers telling Nash they need to go out and do some scouting right now. Make himself busy. Raincheck with Cruz. Except then there's a knot in his stomach, concern that if he doesn't pay attention to her now, she'll want them to do something tonight….
And it's just…Well. Sam had plans to catch up with Oliver at the Penny, didn't he? Check in with his good buddy on how things were at home.
At the end of his eight-minute deliberation, Sam replies to Cruz with the compromise that's managed to churn through the web of his mind:
Bring take-out back here? Paperwork to do.
Andy's first goal is to get coffee…stat. But Oliver has other ideas, uses the hands still on her shoulders to steer her towards the exit.
Andy looks back at the machine like she's leaving her first born on the first day of school. "But, I…"
"Nothin' doin, killer, we're going out for our breakfast," Oliver announces, bounding forward to fall into step beside her. "We need to bulk you up. Can't have you skippin' the most important meal of the day."
How he knew she skipped it she'll never know. "The fight's in two days," she reminds him, doubts anything's going to change in that time.
"Doesn't matter, we gotta whip you into shape."
Andy stops dead in her tracks, pulls her chin back and blinks a few times in disbelief. It takes Oliver a few steps before he realizes he's on his own. When he turns, she's got one hip jutted out and her arms are woven tightly across her chest. She takes a pointed peek down at Oliver's belly, cops a brow when she looks back up.
"Hey, I'm a lover not a fighter." He grins, digs his hands in his pockets. Any moment now Andy's convinced he'll just go ahead and pull out some bacon and eggs.
"Oh yeah," Andy agrees taking a drink of the kool aid, "Make love, not war."
Oliver raises his hand to the heavens. "Preachin' to the choir McNally. Now let's get out of here so I can show you the way to a man's heart."
Andy's indulgent laugh is what greets Sam when he emerges from the parade room. She's got her arm around Oliver as they head out the back door. Sam waits 'til the door completely closes behind them before he turns toward his office; it's not that far away… it just feels like it is. Sam checks his pocket, reminds himself to hit the vending machine for another pack of gum.
When they get to the diner, Oliver insists she comes in - even when she insists she's not hungry. Her stomach's been doing flips since they left the station and the potential consequences of the last hour aren't sitting well.
She waits for Oliver at the door. Burrito's half gone by the time he gets to her. They're already on the street when he holds his hand out. Andy reaches into her pocket without a word, hands him a napkin, can never understand how he always manages to forget. Smiles a little though because it's nice that some things haven't changed.
Oliver starts up the car. "You hitting the gym tonight," he wonders, taking a quick check over his left shoulder before he pulls out.
"Oliver, it's for charity," she moans, has a feeling that she's going to have to add that mantra to her repertoire.
Oliver knows it's for charity, he's been around a while, even participated once or twice himself. But he also saw the look in Cruz' eye, has seen it more than once at the barn and at the Penny over the last week and change. Knows this is about a lot more than charity to her.
He can't take sides though, at least not at the barn, doesn't want to make it any harder on Sam than it already is. But out here, Andy's his partner and he's going to make damn sure he has her back.
"It is, but I think you know there's more on the line here," he prompts, stealing a glance out of the corner of his eye. "Not really the friendly competition from the brochure anymore, huh?"
Andy huffs out a soft chuckle. (It was supposed to be Gail or Traci; it was supposed to be fun… sure, fun… barrel of laughs.) "It is for me," Andy insists.
Oliver pulls the cruiser over to the side of the road, throws it into park and turns to Andy. "You don't want to fight her for..." he pauses, searches her eyes, "bragging rights?"
Andy purses her lips, her eyes go soft as she realizes just how much she likes and respects this man, enough to tell him the truth. "Oliver, I'm trying to do what's right. He hurt me and it hurts all over again to…"
"Sam's my friend," Oliver interjects.
Andy starts to shake her head, reaches out to Oliver. "No, no, I know, I would never ask you to…"
Oliver covers her hand with his. "I mean I know him well enough to know that he's trying… maybe a little too hard. What is it you and Nash always say?"
Andy knows what he's getting at, really hopes that maybe Sam is faking his way through, but still…
"It doesn't matter," Andy shrugs. "If this is what he wants…" She holds up her hand to stop Oliver's protests. "If this is what he's decided, I have to respect that. I hurt him too and I can't take that back so…"
"Maybe he just needs to be reminded that sometimes the best thing is what you had."
Andy takes a deep breath, blows it out real slow before she responds. "He's different with her."
(She thinks about all the times she's seen them together - at the barn, in the parking lot, at the Penny. And how she can get… so close. Not that they weren't close, him and her; it just felt like they had to keep themselves in check. And now… it's like he's got nothing holding him back. He's free. And she can't help but miss what she didn't get to have.)
Oliver doesn't waste a second. "Different isn't always better."
Andy's not so sure. "He looks happier," she notes as she pretends to gaze out the window, blinks back a tear instead.
"Well, looks can only get you so far," Oliver remarks. "And…"
"How are things with you and Zoe?" Andy blurts, flipping quickly in her seat. "I don't think I've asked you since I've been back."
Oliver nods, knows that's all that will be said about it today. "They're good. We're… working at it. It's not easy, but nothing worth having ever is."
He wills Andy to get it, thinks he might have made a little headway but all too soon the static from the radio bursts their little bubble and just like that reality rears its ugly head again.
Marlo waltzes into Sam's office with a brown takeout bag in her hand just after twelve. She grins big when he looks up from his file. Traci keeps her head down but lets her eyes wander up curiously.
Sam's smile is a little tentative as he glances first at Traci, and then back at Marlo. As she nears the desk, he reaches a hand out seemingly for the food.
Marlo extends her hand instead, uses it to pull herself in closer. "Uh uh uh," she rebukes, tucking the bag behind her back.
Sam's pulse starts to quicken and his gaze flits over to Traci again. He can see from the corner of his eye, that Marlo is leaning in, knows what she wants, isn't sure which woman he's afraid to disappoint more.
He's already let her get too close though, can't back out now. So when she purses her lips, he leans up in his seat and quickly pays the price, and gets rewarded like the good guy that he is.
Traci arches her brow; tries to remember if that ever worked for Andy without veiled, or more than likely not so veiled threats of paperwork for 'round about the next century. She glances down at her phone, thumbs a couple of buttons before clearing her throat. "I'm just gonna go…"
Sam's eyes go a little vacant; he had been counting on a chaperone to enforce a little distance. He's trying to wrap his head around exactly when it was that Cruz started to get so…hands-on…at work. She definitely wasn't one for affectionate displays back at the start. "You don't have to go," he assures Nash.
Traci's already halfway to the door. "It's fine, Andy and Oliver passed the Bulgogi truck; they're just pulling in around the corner."
She takes all the air in the room with her when she goes.
"Productive day?" Marlo asks Sam brightly, dragging a chair to sit side-by-side at his desk.
He watches on as she pulls the sandwich out of the packet, ignores a pang in his chest when he spots the ham and mustard she passes his way.
(It's just a sandwich, for godsake. And, she knows it's his favourite. He has it nearly every damn day. It's just weird now is all. With the mere mention of McNally being within a five mile radius, his simple ham sandwich becomes a veritable banquet of flashbacks and memories; loaded conversations over meals that they shared.)
"Shoulda told you to get me salad instead," he says quietly, not daring to reach out his hand toward the offending item; partly in fear of other thoughts it might conjure up if he dares to lay even a finger on it, partly his concern that Cruz will seize the opportunity and rub a thumb on his skin. He really is not so sure about all this touchy-feely at work –
"What?" Marlo replies, oblivious to the war in Sam's head. "Don't tell me you're on a diet," she says casually, reaching over to run a hand over his thigh as she gives him a wink. "I like you just how you are."
Sam gives her a quick grin on reflex, has conditioned himself well enough to elicit that simple response when required. He shakes his head; "I just felt like a change."
Traci leans up against the side of the food truck, her eyes wide at the double-serve of beef that Oliver has placed in Andy's hands. "That's for the both of you, right?"
"Oliver's bulking me up," Andy chuckles. Her eyes dart down to the warm carton of meat. "Or should I say…beefing me up?"
Traci's smirk brightens. "Take Cruz down by sitting on her?"
Andy laughs for real then, one of her first decent ones of the day (or a week…). Only then she shakes her head, a painful thought passing over about how if Marlo was injured, Sam would tend to her needs. When her smile has diminished to the point of non-existence, Andy repeats her mantra; "You do realize it's for charity, right Trace?"
"Oh, I know," Traci nods. She passes some cash over to the person who just served her lunch, points a finger to indicate she wants another of that.
Andy stares at her, a little confused as her friend reaches out for that plate too. "You eating for me as well?"
Traci shakes her head. "I might take some of this back to Swarek. I don't think he likes what he's got."
Oliver's hand stalls just before his mouth. He's been content to let the girls do most of the talking, is kind of hoping that if he gets through his plate fast enough, he might have time for something sweet. But this...
"I think you're right," he nods sagely. "You know, like when you think you might want something, think it looks real good and so you decide to try it out. But then when it comes and you try it, well it's not really as great as you thought. It's okay, will even fill the void a little, but it's just not... satisfying."
"Yeah, yeah," Traci's head's bobbing. "Especially when you find out what your friend's having. And you've had it before and you know it's great. You start wishing that maybe you would have decided to go that way too. Remember just how much you enjoyed it..."
Oliver pulls another strip of meat off the top, tilts his head up before dropping it into his mouth. Points a messy finger over at Nash. "Because there was that time when you really wanted it, but then you found out that... the place was closed so you couldn't have it. It made you sad. Almost made you want to swear off the stuff. But you can't live without... sustenance." Oliver starts to shake his head, purses his lips in mock sympathy before he lets out a long sigh. "And today you're stuck because you made a different choice, and it's right there and you'd feel bad because there's really nothing wrong with it; it's just not quite... right."
Traci slides a napkin wordlessly out of her pocket and drapes it over Oliver's hand. "But if someone were to bring you what you really wanted. Offered you what you were missing. It would be real hard to say no when what you want is right in front of you."
"Yeah, see." Oliver's wagging that messy finger at her again. "I knew you were a detective for a reason."
Andy reaches out to grab the now empty container out of Oliver's hand, pushes off the cruiser and deposits it into the nearest trash can before her fingers are waving between the scheming pair. "You two are not helping."
"What? I'm only looking out for my partner's best interests," Traci claims innocently. "I can't help it if I think it's a shame for him to settle for something plain when he can have..." She closes her eyes and relishes the flavour as she pretends to mull it over, "...heavenly."
"Nash," Traci is greeted with coolly, as she walks into the office. Marlo's shoulder brushes hers on the way out the door. Traci hasn't been a detective for that long, but she is becoming more and more confident with her instincts. Can detect, for example, that the air she took out of the room with her earlier is only just coming back now.
"What's this?" Sam asks, looking up at Nash as she places a carton of beef in front of him.
Traci's eyes glance over at the untouched sandwich that sits on the corner of the desk. "I had a feeling you might still be…hungry."
Sam sits back in his chair, squinting at her. He crosses his arms and tilts a chin in defence. "Well, detective. In this case, your instincts were wrong."
Traci looks back at the sandwich. "I guess it looks like you're not hungry at all." She quirks an eyebrow, decides to call him out on some things. Figures she's got nothing to lose, nods at his food. "Cruz didn't take offence to your lack of appetite?"
Sam's jaw sets firm. Except –
Then he relinquishes a little, drops his shoulders down. They stare at one another for a few seconds, unblinking. "What do you care about what Cruz thinks?" he asks, eyebrow up and some effort in keeping his tone very light.
Traci shrugs, her own brow still up. "I don't," she replies matter-of-fact. "I just like to have my partner's back. Make sure he's eating right."
Sam looks at her for another long ten seconds, wondering what the topic of conversation might have been out at the Bulgogi truck. He'd like to ask her actually, at least make sure McNally's not starving herself -
Sam gets out of his chair, clears his throat. Decides he really doesn't have the energy to worry about Andy's eating habits as well as his own. "We've got some leg-work to do," he huffs. He picks up the carton of beef and heads to the door leaving Traci in his wake. "Hurry up, Nash. I'll eat on the go."
"We still catching up for that drink?" Sam pulls aside Oliver at the end of shift in the men's locker room.
Ollie runs the flats of his palms to smooth out the chest of the casual shirt he's just changed to. "You betcha buddy. Wouldn't miss it for the world." He looks over his shoulder, wondering whether they might be interrupted –
"Sam?" they hear a familiar call from outside. (Marlo hasn't taken to entering the men's locker rooms unannounced before today, but she might as well, given the number of other inopportune times she's starting to pop up).
The look on Sammy is priceless; a couple of blinks and a swallow like he might have been sprung. His eyes flicker toward Oliver, and then bounce to the door. "Yeah…" he replies, around another lump being forced down his throat.
"We going to The Penny tonight?" Cruz pokes her head around the doorframe, giving a big smile to both of the boys.
Oliver watches on with a grin as Sam bites his lip.
After a couple of seconds of silence, Sam raises his hand, pats it a few times to Oliver's shoulder. "Ollie and I had plans to catch up tonight, remember?"
(He told her about this earlier, he did. And really, hadn't she agreed that it would be a good chance for her to put in some extra time at the gym like she said she wanted? Granted she originally wanted him with her but…
This just proves Sam's point: Cruz appears to be getting a little pushier when it comes to needing to spend more time with him. He might enjoy her company, but he wanted things to stay easy and casual. Now they're starting to feel like they're on some sort of schedule and the last thing he wants is Marlo crowding his space –
He thought they were on the same page: Keep it light. No strings attached. When they started this thing a little over a month ago, they made it perfectly clear to one another that that's what they wanted. "Not after anything serious, Swarek." That's what she told him the first time he agreed to an actual 'date'. "Let's just have some fun..."
For the life of him, Sam can't recall being informed of any changes she might want to that.)
"Oh," she says, a hint of a little put out. "Yeah, um. Yeah…" she brightens up, forcing one of those big smiles she's got. "Sorry! Forgot about that."
She walks all the way into the room, less sure of herself than Sam's seen before. He feels a slight twinge of guilt. "I mean," he says. "If you want to meet up with the rest of the crew…"
"No, no, no…" she shakes her head, still with the stiff smile. "I wanted to spend some time in the gym anyway so I'll, uh. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" She pushes to her toes, angles her body and gives him a kiss on the lips.
(And, seriously. If Sam is going to keep this thing going with Cruz, he probably has to get over feeling guilty every time she tries to show him some affection in front of his friends. It's not really fair on anyone, least of all Marlo. It makes him feel double the guilt.)
Ollie seems to pick up on Sam's quandary. His good buddy gives Marlo a polite smile before he turns and walks to his locker, then proceeds to bury his head in there and busies himself with applying enough aftershave to gas the whole room.
"Maybe tomorrow night we can do something nice?" Cruz asks, lowering her voice. "Dinner at that new little Mexican joint…or better still, a dinner party at mine…maybe invite Noelle and Frank?" Marlo continues; her eyes focused on Sam's as she keeps a hand on his shoulder.
The idea catches Sam completely off guard. He was thinking he might have a quiet one tomorrow evening. Tinker with a few things in the garage. But now it appears Cruz is lining them up for double dates with the boss?
Sam swallows at the thought of it, is unsure whether any sound will actually come out when he opens his mouth.
He guesses it would be good to spend some time catching up with Noelle. And it's not like Cruz is asking for something that's abnormal for two people that are dating. He has to give her points for effort. It really wouldn't be fair of him to reject her on this –
"Yeah, uh. Sure. Why not," he croaks eventually, giving her a pat down the arm. "Kind of short notice for a babysitter though," he surmises out loud - one last ditch effort.
She smiles up at him for real now. "Leave the details to me," she instructs casually, reaching up to kiss him again before she walks out with a sway of her hips, and a flippant goodbye wave to Shaw.
Sam's eyes follow her cautiously, his breathing a little shallow as he gnaws into a lip. He's wondering whether maybe he needs to have some sort of talk with her after tomorrow night's event. Check in on the rules. Remind her of what they said at the start. If she thinks double dates with the boss are casual, maybe he needs to rethink some things -
Oliver returns from his locker reeking of whichever spice Zoe fancies this week. He slaps a hand on Sam's shoulder as Marlo walks out the door.
From where Oliver is standing, it looks as though some pennies may finally be dropping for Sammy. He's seen this look on his friend before, there's definitely a little panic that's starting to set in. Double dates with the boss, what is Cruz even thinking? "Everything okay there, brother?"
Sam nods, eventually. "Fine," he mutters. He is more than apprehensive, but is doing his level best to not overthink anything. "I'm fine."
Andy's back is turned to Traci when they step through the door of the Penny. Traci's in the middle of retelling some story about the boxing she did when she was younger. "If she calls you a slut, you have my permission to beat her sorry ass."
"Inappropriate," Andy admonishes; she can't help but laugh though. "You wanna get a menu?"
"Seriously, you can eat after that double serve? What the hell did you do this afternoon?" Traci's voice comes close to a squeak by the end.
Andy gives her brow a little lift. "Well, I wasn't just sitting behind a desk if that's what you're getting at?"
Traci's mouth goes round and wide. "Oooh, you did not just go there."
Andy matches her wide eyes, flashes her a grin. "I'm beefing up remember," Andy touts, gives Traci her best Hulk pose.
Traci laces her arm into the curve of one of Andy's, spins her towards the bar. "Well let's get you fed up before you get angry then."
Andy's lip juts out in a pout. "What about you?" She hates to eat alone, has been doing it way too much lately. "Decide to keep all that goodness to yourself when you got back?
"Oh, no," Traci assures her, wide eyes and head pulsing like a jackhammer, "believe me I shared."
Andy purses her lips. "The food."
"Right, let's see what we can do for you," she responds, avoiding like a real pro. She lifts a hand to Liam, grabs two extra glasses and a couple of menus before she leads Andy to the table.
Andy's head is still shaking by the time they reach their friends. She appreciates Traci's support, she really does, but she doesn't want her to push Sam too far either. She knows good and well how Sam gets when he's pushed, and she doesn't usually fare very well on the other end.
As soon as they get close, Dov gets her by the arm and pushes her into the seat beside him; he's so giddy she wonders if he might have been invited to poker night. But apparently for Dov the prospect of a 'girl fight' is even better. "This is so great. You're gonna practice right, gonna win this. Rookie taking down a T.O. Andrews started the pool right after parade and…"
Chris' eyes have that concerned look in them. "It's not a real fight," he corrects Dov before turning to Andy. "It's for charity. It's just for show. You're not supposed to… I mean you shouldn't…"
Andy reaches out and places a soft hand on Chris' arm. "Relax, Chris, I know it's for charity. There's nothing at stake here."
Mouths drop open in succession around the table.
Gail's is the first to start working. "Nothing at stake?"
Up until this point, the blonde had been staring into the empty wine glass in front of her, but Andy's comment seems to have peaked some curiosity. Her unblinking eyes meet Andy's eventually. "Dark, brooding, bossy… Used to spend a lot of time between your… sheets." One of her pointy, sharp eyebrows goes all the way up. "Ring any bells?"
Andy blows out a breath, feels like she's fighting an uphill battle here. "This has nothing to do with Sam."
"Yeah," Gail sighs, with about as much conviction as Andy's seen out of her when she's filing her nails. "Well…I think someone forgot to give the write up to Cruz."
Before the conversation can get too far out of hand, Andy snatches a menu up off the table. "I thought we were going to eat."
"I could go for Nachos," Dov shrugs.
"Or wings," Chris suggests.
"Nope, not good enough," Traci insists, catching her friend's eye across the table. "All she's had is self-service lately; she needs something she can sink her teeth into."
Andy chokes on the last bit of her beer, ignores the open-mouthed grin on her supposed best friend's face while Chris rubs along her back.
"I'm getting another pitcher," she grumbles when her breath has finally returned.
Andy's got her forearms resting on the bar when Nick sidles up beside her, checks in with a friendly bump of the hip. "You know you could kick her ass if you really wanted to."
Andy grins shrewdly. "I know, but I really shouldn't."
Nick cocks his head to the side, challenges her with a grin of his own. "Doesn't mean you don't want to."
Andy's smile slides off her face as she twists her lips to the side. "It's not going to make any difference. She's really not the one I have to fight with for this anyway."
Nick lifts his arm and gives her shoulder a small squeeze. "He'll come around," he assures her.
Andy blinks a few times real quick, swallows hard. "You've seen them; I just wish…"
"We should practice, just to be on the safe side," Nick interjects, refuses to let her get complacent. He knows her, knows she's always better when she's doing something, working towards something. It's never good when her mind has too much time to itself.
"I'm going in early tomorrow; you can come if you want," she offers. "But I'm only practicing my defence; I just want to hold my ground."
"You sure?"
When Sam and Oliver walk in, they spot the rookie table right off but there are two empty chairs. Sam's eyes start to scan almost immediately, stop when they find the missing piece of the puzzle.
Oliver follows his eye line, isn't surprised by the scowl that is now adorning his friend's face. "Decide what you want yet?" Oliver asks.
Sam doesn't answer right away, even though he could really use a drink right now.
His throat's starting to close up on him, just like it always does when he sees Army Boy hovering. It's stupid because he knows it's been Peck all along with the guy, right hook and a week's worth of cold shoulder notwithstanding. But there's something about how close they are, how unguarded McNally looks when she's with him. It's just…
Sam shakes his head. "You buyin'?"
"We goin' with the usual? Or has that changed too? Something a little lighter maybe?"
Sam scowls, scrapes the stool loudly along the floor as he pulls it out. He levels a glare at his friend, announces for his benefit and Liam's. "Scotch."
"The hard stuff," Oliver acknowledges proudly, waves two fingers at the bartender. "Good choice, my friend."
Sam rolls his eyes, reminds himself that Oliver only has his best interests at heart. Still he really just wants to relax, stop thinking about anything and everything, at least for one night.
Both men sit in silence as they wait for their drinks. Sam enjoying the solitude, Oliver wishing it was that easy, but he knows that's not how it works. "Doesn't feel right," he announces swirling around the contents of the glass that was just set in front of him.
Sam's pulls the tumbler from his lips, waits for the slow burn to settle in his stomach before he turns to his friend. The look in Shaw's eye tells Sam that it has nothing to do with the amber in the glass. "Oliver."
"What? I'm just saying - things are different; you're different."
The scowl is taking up residence on Sam's face again; he wraps both hands tightly around the glass as he stares into it. "You're the one that said if you don't grow, you die," he accuses, narrows his eyes a little. "Maybe this is me growing."
Oliver shrugs. (Trying? Maybe. Growing…?) "To do that, you gotta stop avoiding the tough stuff… and don't tell me that you're not," he challenges.
Sam takes another pull off his drink, drops it down to the bar top a little too roughly. He's really trying here. "You're the one that told me I should get a new girlfriend."
Oliver's eyes flash wide at the revelation; Sam's never been one for labels, at least not the conventional kind – that is… something. He lifts his own drink to mask the surprise, lets his question echo into the glass. "So she is your girlfriend then?"
"She's a girl and she's my friend," Sam responds petulantly.
(Now that sounds more like the Sam he knows and loves. But still…) "What are we, twelve?" He wonders. Izzy's been using that line for at least three years now and he still keeps a close eye out when those 'friends' come over.
"I'm just saying, you're reading too much into this. You know what this is." It surprises Sam that Oliver's calling him out on it. They've been buddies for a long time. He knows how Sam is; how he's always been. This is not something new… (Oh.)
"Listen, buddy," Oliver lifts a hand, affixes it to Sam's shoulder. "Just a little friendly advice okay, that's it; then I'll shut up. I promise." He uses his other hand to cross his heart. "I thought I knew what this was. But you gotta admit…" Oliver pauses, gives Sam's shoulder a squeeze when he feels him tense up, knows Sam doesn't like to be told what to do, knows in this case that it still has to happen.
"Your 'friend' is starting to get a little cosy. And I'm sorry, but the PDA…"
"The PD what?" Sam blurts, a sleepy memory from way back when flashes in his head, something he thinks Andy brought up once in the early morning before he jumped out of bed and told her he'd meet her at the station. He lets it drop though, decides it's probably best if he doesn't figure it out.
"It looks to me like Cruz is looking for way more than what you're offering up here," Oliver lifts his hand from Sam's shoulder and claps him once on the back before pulling it away, "and from where I'm standing, she's getting it."
Sam nods, doesn't say a word, just takes a sip from his glass and lets it burn all the way down –
The flavour reminds him of a night long ago, when Jerry finally called it quits with his ex.
Sam plucked the bottle off the shelf, knowing it was his best friend's favourite. They didn't drink that much of it really, didn't need to. Two or three straight up were comfort enough.
Sam can hear Jerry's words now; can picture his friend peering into the tumbler, explaining quietly exactly what it was that he enjoyed about Scotch.
"This…is about living life to the hilt, son. One doesn't drink good scotch to get drunk. One doesn't drink something just because it's there. That's what my dad used to say, Sammy."
Sam knew Jerry's father, respected him a lot. Wished on more than one occasion that he had been born a biological brother to Jer. "I remember," Sam replied quietly. "Heard him say it myself once or twice too."
Jerry nodded a reply. "Taken me years to get used to the stuff. I still don't think I've quite reached the point of appreciating the complexity…the challenge it presents… still need to work on maturing my palate, I guess."
Sam also remembers sharing the very same scotch with Jerry the night after he asked him to be his best man second time around. Jerry told him that time: "the flavours, Sammy. I think I've finally worked them all out."
It's in that particular moment: Sam realizes that he himself still has a long way to go…he tips his glass in silent recognition before bringing it to his lips one more time.
His glass is all the way empty now but he's still got more to swallow. "You want another?" He asks Oliver. "On me this time."
Oliver waves him off. "No, no. I gotta go."
Sam checks his watch and it's barely eight o'clock. "Already?"
Oliver turns to his friend and drops his chin a little to meet his eye. "You asked about home. Home is good. We're working at it. It's not easy, but it's what we want. It's hard and it's scary, but it's worth every second. And if that means I gotta compromise on my time a little, well that's what I have to do. That's what love is – give and take, seeing both sides, the good and the bad… and not keeping score."
Sam's already turned back to his drink by the time Oliver finishes. Makes a move to quench his thirst, but still comes up empty.
Oliver nods his head to the other side of the bar. "If you're not ready, go sit with the rookies. Get your fill."
(Yeah, that's not an option. That has hard stuff written all over it.)
"Or call Marlo and head over there. Maybe clear a few things up, stop pulling punches. You're not doing anyone any favours by holding back."
(Hard place: Meet rock.)
Oliver pushes off his stool and takes a couple of steps toward the back. Sam knows for a fact that he parked out front. "I thought you were leaving."
Oliver reaches into his pocket to pull out some cash. Drops the money on the counter and nods at Liam before answering Sam. "Gonna offer McNally a ride home. If I don't get her out of here now, Epstein'll keep her here all night. She needs to rest up."
"You're rooting for McNally." There's no malice in Sam's voice, not even surprise. It's just a statement of understanding.
Oliver swings his head to the side once. "It's for charity buddy, no need to take sides." He turns and waves over his shoulder. "Gotta make sure she comes out of it in one piece though." And because he feels a little bad about the parting shot, he adds, "I'd hate to have to start buying my own lunches again."
Sam watches his friend escort Andy out the door, doesn't miss how steadfastly she keeps her eyes glued to the exit. Resolves himself to a familiar feeling taking over for the rest of the night: as soon as she left, he wanted her to come back.
When Liam asks him if he wants another, Sam shakes him off. Picks up his jacket and slings it over his shoulders, decides maybe he'll take that quiet night in the garage tonight. Doesn't think he'll have to look too hard to find something that needs some kind of work.
Up next: Charity match or not, you can't just jump straight into the ring...you've got to do some training, right?