I'm a HUGE Foyle's War fan, but there's not a whole lot of variety, or quantity of fanfiction so i thought I'd write my own. I've alwasy shipped Andrew/Sam- and this story just wrote itself really.

It takes place in Season two, "The Funk Hole". I basically wrote an extended scene, or really what I wish had happened when they shared their first kiss. So it is slightly AUish.

I own nothing, not Sam, not Andrew, not "gone with the wind" and not Foyle's war.

It's the second half of "Gone with the Wind".

Onscreen Melanie is dying and off it Sam Stewart is all wide-eyed, hands to mouth, crying silent tears.

Andrew wants to lean over and press his mouth to one of those tears. To run his hand through the golden curls framing her face. To work his mouth down her cheekbone to those full lips.

Shaking his head Andrew turns back to the screen. Rhett Butler is leaving Scarlett and Sam's hand reaches to grip the back of his resting between them. Andrew can't help the grin, and turns his hand over, pressing their palms together and winding his fingers through Sam's smaller ones.

The movie ends, and Sam abruptly lets go of Andrew to wipe at her eyes. Standing up, they follow along with the crowd exiting the theater, shoulder to shoulder with Sam dabbing at her eyes.

"Did you enjoy yourself Sam?"

"I did, I did enjoy it very much."

Andrew grins. "You cried through the whole second half!"

Sam wipes under her eyes "I know, my makeup must look dreadful".

Andrew shakes his head, "you look fine."

They set off towards Sam's home, walking slowly and occasionally brushing shoulders. They speak in soft voices, about Andrew's father, about his injury and the war. The sunlight is in Sam's hair when she thanks him and Andrew feels his stomach twist. "Sam?"

"Yes?" She stops and turns to face him. Andrew mimics the motion, but he doesn't quite look Sam in the eyes when asks "may I kiss you?"

Sam's face flushes instantly and she barely looks at him as the 'yes' tumbles out. His injured arm locked to his side, Andrew reaches out his hand to her face. He traces the curve of her cheekbone with his fingers, following the slope and finally slipping beneath her chin and tilting it towards him. Sam leans up to him, eyes never leaving his face. Swallowing he leans downs and presses his mouth to hers.

The first time Andrew flew the rush of adrenaline, pleasure, joy and fear went straight to his bones. When Sam's lips open under his he feels that same rush, straight to bones to the heart of him. The sweet smell of her, the brush of her curls against his face is so painfully wonderful he can't seem to think. When they finally part, there's a dizzy sort of giddiness and Andrew wants to laugh or jump or kiss Sam again and again until they're both breathless from the effort.

Releasing a long-held breathe Andrew grins down at Sam, whose got part of her lip between her teeth and looks as breathless and dizzy as he feels.

Sam, embarrassed by Andrew's stare ducks her head and reaches for his lapel, pressing the blue cloth between her fingers.

"Sam."

Eyes closed and mouth grinning Sam kisses Andrew again, and it's all he can do to stop his hands from gripping her waist. Instead he reaches his good hand to her hair, and they both revel in the touch of their lips.

Later, much much later when Andrew is lying in bed, on arm tucked under his head, he dreams about Sam's hair, and Sam's mouth, and Sam's laugh, and how one doesn't necessarily need a plane to really fly.

Yeah i hate endings, i don't think I got this one QUITE right. But, whatever.

Review if it please you. 3