A/N: It's been a while, and I'm sorry for that, but I've been quite a busy beaver these days.. This story was actually completed back in March, but conflicting schedules of betareaders and life got in the way of publishing.
This was a request from SVUgirl at the Two Worlds Collide fanboards and takes place post S3. She wanted a fluff and a water fight, and that is what I tried my best to give her. It was a lot of fun exchanging ideas back and forth while writing the story, and I genuinely had a lot of fun with it despite it being outside my general comfort zone!
Anyways, a huge thanks to both SVUgirl and Deedee920 for all of their help in editing and ideas for improving the story to become the absolute best fluff it could be!
Please enjoy!
PS: Temperatures are given in Celsius.
Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue or its characters or anything related to the series in any way, shape or form.
For You, I Would
"You know, Jer…" Sam says, through gritted teeth, tightening the last bolt of the tires before straightening and stretching his back. "I never could have imagined you driving a five door hybrid."
"Had you asked me last summer, I would have said: no way. Now though…" Jerry says with a small grin.
"Yeah…" Sam replies, walking over to grab the beer Jerry is offering.
"Family is a funny thing. It does something to you. All of a sudden, you're off selling your car…" Jerry trails off before grabbing another beer from the cooler and opening it. He takes a sip and then adds with a shrug, "The funny thing is, you don't even care."
"Tell me about it." Sam says, before taking a sip of the cold, brown liquid.
He doesn't notice the questioning look on Jerry's face.
Jerry is about to comment about it when Sam turns to face him.
"I can't believe you chose today of all days for me to check on your car though." Sam says, setting the beer down on the ground. "How could you decide that the hottest day of a heat-wave is the day to do work outside?" he questions, shaking his head and wiping sweat off his forehead for the umpteenth time since Jerry came over.
"We both have the day off and our girls are out shopping?" Jerry says, sheepishly, in an attempt to justify it.
"Still…" Sam responds, scrunching up his face. "Doesn't explain how I'm the one slaving away while you're in the shade drinking beer." he continues with a pointed look in Jerry's direction as he walks over to take one last look under the hood before closing it.
He really isn't as annoyed with the day as he'd like Jerry to think he is, though. He has actually enjoyed reading up on the wonders that is the hybrid engine and getting a peek under the hood.
That Jerry stayed out of the way without asking questions, was only an added bonus. If only the temperature had been a bit lower, he would have put this day right up next to one of his better days off work.
Well… the temperature and McNally.
Truth be told, if McNally had been there, he wouldn't really have minded the temperature. Then again, he probably wouldn't have gotten too much work done either.
"Hey, did Nash say when they'd be back?" he asks, closing the hood of Jerry's car and walking back over to sit on the steps in the shade.
"I think maybe…" he takes a couple of seconds looking at the time on his phone. "Soonish?"
"Wow, that's some great watch you've got there on your phone." Sam says sarcastically, before picking his beer up off the ground and taking a sip.
"Yeah, might be she didn't actually tell me." Jerry shrugs before sitting down on the steps next to Sam.
"Thanks, though." Jerry says after a short silence. "…for taking a look at the car." he continues in reply to Sam's frown.
"No problem. It's brand new, not a lot for me to do." Sam answers, letting his eyes drift away from Jerry's face, down the driveway and towards the street. He really wishes that she'll be back soon. It's not like he doesn't enjoy spending time with Jerry, but whenever she's not there - it's just as if there's something missing.
"At least you know what to look for if there is an issue in the future."
Sam is facing Jerry with his mouth half open, about to retort, when his truck pulls over to the side of the curb.
He still has some issues with her driving it. It's his baby after all, no one else is supposed to touch it. Had it been anyone other than McNally driving, his first instinct would have been to go check on it. But it is McNally driving, and so his first instinct is to check on her.
He watches as Nash gets out of the passenger side and heads to the back to start taking out bags.
He feels a smile tugging at his lips when he sees Andy coming around to help her.
She looks tired, completely worn out. He has a feeling that she's just going to want to go inside and fall asleep on the couch, arms and legs all over the place, as she usually does when she's that exhausted.
He takes one last sip of his beer, which has now turned warm in the heat, before setting it down on the steps and walking over to the truck to greet them.
"Hey." he says as he nears the truck. She looks up from the mass of bags in the back of it to smile at him.
"Take these inside." Nash orders him, pushing four stuffed bags into his chest.
He tries sending Andy a look, but she's just laughing at him, or Nash. He's not quite sure; either way, he doesn't really care. He grins back at her before turning back to Nash.
"Yes, Ma'am." he says sardonically, as he stands to attention before turning around on his heel and walking back to the house. He can hear them giggle as he walks away, and when he reaches the steps, Jerry is right there laughing with them.
When he comes back outside, they've finished unloading the truck, and are putting Nash's bags in the trunk of the hybrid.
"Hey." McNally says with a smile when she's done putting down the last of the bags she was carrying. She walks over and plants a short kiss on his lips.
"You're all salty." she says when she pulls back, her nose all wrinkly and scrunched up. "And dirty." she adds, waving her hand around to indicate his face.
"Kind of a hazard of mechanic work in the heat, sweetheart." he says in a condescending yet playful tone, bringing his hand up to cup her cheek.
"Don't touch me with those dirty hands." she exclaims, hopping backwards out of his reach.
He wants to just grab her and make her just as dirty and sweaty as he is.
Judging by the playful twinkle in her eye, she's not as opposed to the idea as she's acting, but there's still the matter of Jerry and Nash, who are both standing right behind her with huge grins. He's not looking forward to Jerry starting to comment on him acting like a teenager around McNally again. A week's worth of ribbing about that was enough to last a lifetime.
"So… Uh." he says instead, letting his left hand fall to his side while his right hand finds a spot on the back of his neck. "… yeah… The car's good to go." and he seriously hopes Jerry takes the hint and gets going.
"Great." Jerry says with this knowing smile that makes Sam want to roll his eyes. "I guess we'd better go pick up Leo, huh?" he asks, putting his arm around Nash's waist.
"Yeah, I guess." she smiles suggestively back at him while edging closer, making Sam feel like they aren't really going to pick up Leo just yet.
"All right!" Jerry says with a bit too much enthusiasm, as he swings around and opens the car door. "Thanks again, buddy! See you later, Andy!" he calls out as he gets into the car.
"So, I'll see you tomorrow?" Nash asks, heading over to hug Andy good-bye.
"Yep!" Andy smiles as she hugs her back.
They stay there watching their friends pull out of the driveway, Andy waving at Nash, as she and Jerry turn out onto the street and head off.
"So…" Sam sighs, turning towards her and adapting an expression of false contemplation. "Where were we?" he inquires through a crooked smile as he edges closer.
"I was heading inside." she says matter-of-factly with a shrug. "Don't know about you." she teases.
"It's just as hot inside. Jerry broke the AC." Sam replies, in an almost whisper, still edging closer. He's close enough to touch her now.
She grumbles a bit then looks up with a frown. "How?"
"Don't know. I wasn't there." he states while reaching out to touch her arm. Apparently, she's too preoccupied with thinking about the AC to worry about getting dirty now, as she doesn't pull away, but instead grabs his hand and starts playing with it.
"I thought you were mister fix-it." she says, looking up at him with this playful pout that hits him deep inside.
"I didn't have time yet." he whispers, now so close that he can feel her breath on his face. It actually feels cool compared to the outside temperature.
"Oh, is that right?" she asks breathily, angling her head to give him access.
Their lips are barely brushing against each other when her expression changes.
"Hey!" she suddenly exclaims, dropping his hand and stepping backwards. "I told you already: don't come near me with those dirty hands!"
"You didn't seem to mind…" he raises his eyebrows, closing the gap between them again.
"Well…" she starts, and why does he like it so much when she gets flustered?
"You distracted me." she says lamely, swatting him lightly in the chest before turning around to head inside.
"Hey." he says, reaching out to grab her wrist, but it's hot out, she's sweating, he's sweating, and needless to say, her wrist slips right out of his grasp. He turns around in exasperation and sees his truck still parked in the street
"Andy." he calls, turning back around.
She stops in the doorway at the sound of her name.
"Could you park the truck in the driveway for me? I don't want to get in it like this." he says in as close to a pleading tone as he can get without feeling completely uncomfortable.
"Okay." she smiles, fishing the keys out of her pocket. "Aren't you glad I didn't let you dirty me up now?" she asks as she walks back down the steps.
He kind of wants to tell her 'you don't know how dirty I can make you', but decides against it when he sees her blush.
"Don't give me that look!" she says with big eyes like she's offended. "You know what I meant."
"Oh, I think I do." he can't help but smile as she walks towards him on her way to the curb.
"Don't even think about touching me." she warns with a finger pointed in his direction as she edges past him.
He puts his hands in the air in mock-defeat. "You want me to get down on my knees too, officer?" he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.
"Psh… You wish." she scoffs as she heads down the driveway.
He puts his arms down and watches her pull the truck into the driveway before getting back out.
"On second thought…" she switches gears with a thoughtful look on her face when she passes by him again. "…maybe later."
He reaches out to grab her again, but she scampers away back up the front steps.
"You've got to give me something." he says with a put on pout.
"How about you join me in a cold shower? It's way too hot out here." she suggests, using her hand as a fan. "Oh! And then you can fix the AC!" She says with a huge smile.
"As much as I would love to take a shower with you for the second time today, sweetheart, you've really made a mess of my truck." he admits, nodding over to the dust-covered silver truck. "I swear, I have no idea how you do it."
"Fine, suit yourself." she relents as she pulls her t-shirt over her head, leaving her in only her jeans and a bra.
He has to take a deep breath and close his eyes for a second at the sight to try to keep from obeying his body that is screaming at him to get over himself and join her. The problem is that if he joins her now, they'll not only spend an eternity in the shower, but the shower will lead to the bedroom, which usually leads to take-out, and then all of a sudden the day has gone by and he hasn't done anything that needs to be done.
A deep breath and a shake of the head is what it takes for him to be able to open his eyes again. She's still standing there, her t-shirt hanging limply from her left hand, and she's looking at him like she's waiting for him to change his mind.
"How about you come help me instead?"
Her face breaks into a smile, and for a second it looks like she's going to say yes, but he knows better.
"Not really a car-wash kind of girl." she winks before her smile fades, making way for a look of slight disgust. "Besides, I smell like stuffy mall. I can't walk around like this." she shudders.
Her eyes meet his again and that seductive twinkle is back. "Last chance…" she shrugs, starting to work on her belt — an action that actually makes Sam praise the heat. She's not exactly hiding there in the doorway, and had the heat been less extreme, the neighbors would surely be outside instead of sitting inside with their cranked up ACs.
"Sorry, sweetheart." he winks back at her.
She makes this exaggerated pout and bambi-eyes. "You're no fun." she sulks before turning around and heading further inside.
He stays put for a couple of more seconds, struggling to keep from just following her into the bathroom.
He is just finishing cleaning the inside of the truck when she comes back outside; her hair still wet from her shower and tied up in a loose bun.
"You seriously have to fix the AC." she complains, sitting down on the front steps. "I mean, it feels cool outside."
He sees her reach over and grab the beer he left on the steps when she arrived home. She makes a face as she removes the bottle from her lips. It seems that a bottle of beer that has been open for nearly an hour outside on the hottest day of a heat wave doesn't taste all that good.
Who would have thought?
She looks over and notices him smiling as he gets out of the truck and throws the yellow rag in the bucket.
"Not good?" he asks with this amused sound to his voice, like he's just on the verge of laughing.
She furrows her brow, making a you're-so-funny face before setting the beer back down on the ground.
"So, I finished the inside of the truck." he states, wiping his wet hands on his jeans, leaving dark streaks on each of his thighs. "You want to help me with the outside?"
"I don't know…" she says reluctantly. "It's so hot." she adds with a whine and a pout that makes him want to kiss her.
"Well, the water from the hose is really cold." he offers, crouching down in front of her. "Feel." he extends his hands out towards her knowing they're still cold from the washing water.
She grabs both of his hands in hers and, to his surprise, groans. She then proceeds to put each of his hands on either side of her neck, closing her eyes as she revels in the feel of his cool hands on her over-heated skin.
"Oh, that feels good." she sighs as he starts working his fingers on her neck in a slow massage.
When he stops, her eyes immediately spring open, and her face takes on this look of a child who has just had their toy taken away for no reason.
"There's more of that for good girls who help wash the truck." he teases with a wink, in reply to her displeased look.
"So. Not. Fair." she emphasizes slowly as she gets to her feet.
She sighs loudly. "Come on then." she surrenders, holding her hand out to help him up. "Let's get it over with."
He grabs her offered hand and lets her pull him to his feet. "Thanks." he says, walking back over to the truck and bending down to rummage around in a box of cleaning equipment.
When he gets back up, he throws her a bottle of soap.
"You mix the soap." he tells her, pointing at a bucket, the previous teasing seductive tone of his voice giving way to his TO one.
"What are you gonna do?" she questions on her trek to grab the bucket.
"Hose down the truck."
"Ooh, that sounds fun." she says excitedly. When he turns to face her, she's got this pleading look on her face.
"Fine, you hose down the truck." he concedes, making his way back to her to get the soap.
"Thanks!" she smiles, placing a quick peck on his cheek before hurrying over to the hose and turning the water on.
He stares as she puts her hand in front of the nozzle and visibly shivers from the chill of the water. She rubs her wet hand over her face and neck, and for the third time since her return from the shopping trip, he has to close his eyes and get a hold of himself.
Snapping out of his daze, he picks up the bucket and heads inside to fill it with hot water.
He is really not prepared for what awaits him when he comes back outside.
She's standing in the bed of the truck hosing down the roof, her tanned legs seemingly going on forever out from under the small shorts she's wearing. Her green tank top is full of dark spots from the water having bounced back off the truck, and the rest of her body is covered in small droplets.
Her head is bobbing back and forth like it does sometimes when she's listening to music, and he gets the feeling that she's singing in her head.
Well, he can actually see her lips moving, so it's not so much a feeling as an observation.
"Having fun?" he asks, putting the bucket of hot, soapy water down next to the truck.
"Huh?" she jumps, turning around to face him. What she doesn't think about when she turns around is that she's holding a hose with cold, really cold, water in her hand.
The spray hits Sam directly in the chest, and in spite of the look of surprise on his face, she doesn't seem to realize exactly what she's doing straight away.
When she finally realizes and turns away, his jeans and t-shirt are completely soaked and his body is shaking.
"That…" she starts, her eyes huge in fear and anticipation of what he is going to do, "…was not on purpose." she says breathily, and he can swear she's trying to hold back a laugh.
He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, feeling a couple of shivers run through his body. When he opens them again, her eyes are even wider, and he can feel the tension radiating off of her.
"Why don't you come down here for a second?" he says with this forced calmness that makes her back away from him, even though there's no way he can reach her from where he's standing.
"I think maybe not." she utters hesitantly. She keeps looking behind her like she's searching for some way to escape.
"Ok…" he casually shrugs. "I guess I'll just start washing the truck then." he muses and crouches down next to the bucket.
He can hear her moving in the truck bed as he soaks a big yellow sponge in the warm water. He waits until he no longer hears her movements, meaning that she's most likely standing just about directly above him trying to look around him to see what he's doing.
He grabs the sponge firmly before quickly turning around and chucking it.
He knows her too well.
She was exactly where he knew she would be, the sponge hitting her square in the face with a huge splat, sending soap suds flying in every direction.
He can't help the chuckle that escapes his lips as the sponge near slides down her face, bounces off her chest, hits the side of the truck, and lands on the ground in front of his feet with a dull splash.
He looks up in time to see a mischievous look on her soap covered face before the nozzle of the hose is aimed directly at his face and he has to turn his back to her to be able to breathe without inhaling water.
Though he hears her laughing and moving around in the truck bed, there's no way he's turning around while that cold spray is still directed at his face.
Then, all of a sudden, the hard pounding of the spray on his back disappears.
Confused, he turns around and scans the area of the driveway where the truck is parked.
The only clue to her location is the small stream of water running down the driveway from behind the front wheel on the opposite side of the truck. And sure enough, as he gets closer, he can see her head sticking up to look through the windows.
Her eyes grow huge before she quickly ducks back down when she sees him
He looks down on the ground and sees the box of car cleaning objects. He kneels down and grabs a sponge out of the box before he sneaks over to the bucket. Picking up the other sponge, he puts them both into the hot water.
When he's certain that they're soaked enough, he takes one in each hand and slowly makes his way around to the back of the truck.
Looking around the side, he notices that she's trying to spy at him through the windows again. The look of confusion on her face as she squats back down makes his heart do a celebratory leap of victory.
He waits until she tries to look around the front of the car before he charges.
She must hear his steps as he speeds towards her, because she turns around just in time to see the two sponges closing in on either side of her face.
When he pulls his hands and the sponges back, she's got two huge circles of suds around each ear that join in the middle of her face, making her look kind of like a foamy panda.
He laughs as she wipes the soap off her face with her free hand, slowly revealing a scowl.
"See ya!" he says, before turning on his heel and scampering back off to the other side of the truck.
When she comes around to his side, she's in full cop mode, holding the nozzle of the hose like it's a gun and he's the prime suspect in a murder.
"Don't move." she orders in her cop voice.
"Or what?" he challenges.
She's about to start the spray when he closes the gap between them and grabs hold of her wrists, before slowly making the nozzle turn to point at her face.
Her eyes meet his, and there's this little hint of fear in them.
"You wouldn't…" she says as her eyes gradually grow larger.
"Wouldn't I?"
She just starts shaking her head slowly as he applies just the smallest amount of pressure to the trigger.
Her eyes are pleading, all big and brown, and he just can't go through with it.
"Truce?" she asks with hope, feeling his grip on her hands and wrists loosen.
He stays silent, slowly letting her hands free.
She drops the hose and it hits the driveway with a small clank. That's when he makes his move. In a matter of seconds, he has picked up the bucket of soapy water and dunks it over her head from behind.
The way she shrieks his name actually kind of makes him feel bad.
When she bends down to pick the hose back up, he grabs her from behind, locking his arms around her arms and upper body.
"You're all cold." she whines as he holds her to him, her back pressed tight against his chest.
"Well, you're warm. You'll just have to heat me up." it comes out real low and guttural, due to her struggling against his grip, and it sends vibrations down her spine.
"You wish." she snorts, squirming to try and get out of his hold. If she had any idea of what her squirming does to him, he doubts she'd be so persistent on getting loose.
"Would you just stop struggling for two seconds?" he asks through gritted teeth.
"No. You're. Getting. Me. All. Cold." she says, gasping for air in between words.
He turns them around so that she's in between him and the truck. He lets go of her just so that she can turn around, before he pins her again.
"I thought you wanted to cool down." he says in a low voice.
"Not like this." she scowls at him.
"Oh, yeah?" he asks with a soft chuckle. "How?" his tongue subconsciously darts out to wet his bottom lip.
"I don't know." she whispers with a small smile, lifting her chin to look straight at him.
"Hm." he sighs, and he's so close that she can feel the slightly chilled air leaving his nose on her face. It sends a small shiver through her body.
He pulls back a little to look at her.
"Are you cold?" he asks with concern.
She just shakes her head. "Nah." she whispers as she lets one of her hands run up his stomach to his chest, feeling the cold, wet fabric of his t-shirt and the way it sticks to his body. She sneaks two fingers down into the collar and pulls lightly.
He gets the picture and leans in to kiss her.
She tastes like soap is the first thing that comes to mind when their lips meet.
The second one is that soap really doesn't taste all that bad.
She takes her fingers out of his collar, runs her hand along his collar bone and over his shoulder, until it finally comes to a rest on his neck. Her other hand is at his side, alternating between playing with the hem of his t-shirt and the lining of his pants.
He's still got her boxed in between him and the truck, his arms barely brushing against hers on either side, making the hairs on his arms rise. He steps even closer so that their bodies press together full length.
She's so warm, which is probably mostly due to him just pouring a bucket of hot water over her head. Between the heat radiating off of her, the heat of the sun on his back, the general heat of the air, and not to mention the heat he's going to be generating himself if they keep going like this, he's actually kind of worried about them getting heat strokes.
He feels her body shake again and pulls back, accompanied by a disgruntled moan.
"Are you sure you're not cold?"
"No, Sam. It's like 40 degrees…" she says, bringing her other hand up to his neck to pull him close again.
He resists, earning him an exasperated sigh. "But you keep shivering."
"You don't think that might have something to do with something else?" she asks, running her fingers along his jaw, her eyes locked on his lips.
"Ah…" he says, feeling slightly stupid for not thinking along those lines.
"Ah." she mocks with a small smile, placing a light kiss on his lips. "Besides, we'll be dry in no time anyway, you know, the heat, the sun and…" she looks away from him for two seconds with a slight frown, as she tries to come up with a third thing to say. "Stuff…"
"Yeah, that stuff really dries you right up." he almost whispers with a smile as he leans in to kiss her again.
Their lips don't meet.
Instead, he pulls back and loosens his grip on the truck, causing his arms drop to his sides and Andy's makeshift cage to disappear.
She frowns at him for a second, but he doesn't notice. "What?"
"I've got to finish washing the truck." he says simply.
"Really?" she asks, annoyed by the turn of events yet somewhat curious as to what made his thoughts change all of a sudden.
"It's going to get full of water-spots if it just dries out in the sun." he says, leaning slightly to the side to look around her and take in the state of it. "And soap-spots." he adds, seeing the suds slowly sliding down the sides.
"Okay, then." she shrugs, before walking around him, headed towards the house.
"What? You're not going to help me?" he inquires, turning around and watching her walk away.
She spins to face him. "Nah…" she says, wrinkling her nose and shaking her head. "You blew it." she proclaims, before sticking her tongue out at him and heading inside.
He watches her long, tanned legs disappear into the house before cursing himself for a couple of minutes for being such an idiot. He takes a deep breath and loosens his shoulders, before he turns around to start washing, figuring that the faster he gets done, the faster they can finish what they started.
He's about two thirds done when she comes back outside with two bottles of water, really cold water it seems. She's holding one of them to her neck and the other one to her forehead, as she walks towards him.
"Thought you might like some water." she says, glancing down at the bottle in her hand.
"I'm fine for now. Almost done." he answers back in a tone that unintentionally makes her frown.
"Oh, okay." she says as her hand drops to her side, apparently not strong enough to keep holding the bottle anymore. She stands there watching him get back to soaping the side of the truck, before she turns around and heads back inside.
The next time she returns outside, he's drying the truck with a piece of cloth.
He wipes his forehead with it when he finishes and takes a step back to admire his work. If it hadn't been for the small dent she made near the tail lights that one time, it would look brand new. In her defense, it's only visible when the light hits it just right.
Wiping his hands on the rag, he turns around to see her leaning against the railings of the front steps. He gets a bit annoyed at the sight. Not because she didn't help him, but because if she had helped him, they would have been done a long time ago.
He's about to tell her to put down the water bottle and come see the finished product when he sees a single drop of water escape from the side of her mouth.
He watches as it trails a path down her neck and slowly makes its way down the front of her chest, only to disappear into the fabric of the tank top she's wearing.
She always looks so good like that – all casual and wearing next to nothing.
He watches her use her hand as a napkin before walking over and sitting down on the steps.
Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her pulling on her tank top, rubbing her hands together, and suddenly realizing how short her shorts actually are – she's fidgeting.
"So, uh…" she starts, and he turns to face her. "I, ehm… made you a BLT." she tells him, this look on her face like she's trying to apologize for something.
"Oh… It's inside?" he asks.
She just nods. He can tell that she's curious about something but doesn't want to ask him about it, due to the way she's playing with the railings, moving her fingers as if they were running up and down the black banister without really paying attention to what she's doing.
"Let's go eat." he decides, and stands up, putting his hand over hers on the rails, effectively making her fidgeting come to a halt.
She looks up at him with this innocent look on her face that he just knows that their kids are going to have someday.
He smiles reassuringly before squeezing her hand. She gets the picture and turns hers, palm up, so that he can grab it before letting him lead her around the banister, up the stairs, and all the way into the kitchen.
She wasn't kidding about the heat. The moment they get past the hallway, Sam feels like he has stepped inside a boiler room. Instantly, he feels the sweat beading on his forehead and running down his temples in huge droplets.
His sandwich is waiting for him on the kitchen counter, the cheese sticking out from under the bread has gotten sweaty already, and the only thought that comes to mind is to fix the AC.
He lets go of her hand when she moves past him further into the kitchen.
"I've got to fix that AC." he says, turning on his heel to go get his tool box.
"But we were going to eat." she half shouts after him as he heads down the hallway.
"Just put it in the fridge, I'll eat it later." he shouts back while moving a pile of her clothing. For some reason, she keeps putting her freshly made laundry in a pile on top of his toolbox, instead of actually folding it and putting it away in the wardrobe – it doesn't annoy him as much as he thought it would have.
When he enters the living room, she's sitting on the couch, legs crossed, watching TV with a bucket of ice cream in her lap, and a soup spoon sticking out of her mouth. Pistachio is her ice cream of choice now.
Apparently, her favorite kind changed after he told her about J.D.. 'I just like it now, okay.' she said all defensively when he raised his eyebrows in question the first time she put the pistachio ice cream in the shopping cart.
"I put it in the fridge." she says, her mouth full of spoon and green ice cream.
"Thanks." he responds, as he starts removing any source of electricity, before putting the control panel cover to the side to get to what he suspects is the problem. Turns out that he's right and it's not really a big problem, just a faulty switch. With a quick change, in no time the AC is back up and running.
He hears her groan from the couch when she feels the cold air rushing through the room. "Thank you!" she almost moans before sticking another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. He's sure she's eaten about half the box already.
He has just gotten his sandwich out of the fridge and is just about to close it when the lights inside of it go out. The living room gets suddenly quiet as well, save for some low curses from her that is.
He comes back in to see her furiously pressing the power button on the TV, the box of ice cream leaving water marks on the wooden coffee table, and the spoon in a pool of green ice cream on the floor. –At least it's not on the couch this time. He thinks as he walks over and sits down in a chair.
"I'm afraid it's a blackout sweetheart." he says, after having enjoyed watching her trying to turn the TV back on for a good half a minute.
"Really?" she sighs, turning around and finally giving up on trying to make the TV come back alive.
"You'd think the power companies would try to fix this issue when it happens just about every heat wave." she says with exasperation as she flops down on the couch.
He doesn't say anything and instead just takes a bite out of his sandwich.
He watches as she picks the spoon up off the floor and studies it for a while. Apparently, she decides that the floor isn't all that dirty and sticks it in her mouth again, licking off what melted ice cream that isn't now on the floor, before leaning forward and grabbing the box off the table. She stops mid movement as she notices the look on his face, mouth half-open after having stopped mid-chew.
"What?" she asks around the spoon. "I have to eat it up now. It's not like the freezer is working with no power."
- Sometimes, this girl… he silently ponders, shaking his head, before going back to eat.
Not much time passes before she's managed to empty the whole box. She triumphantly puts it on the table before dropping the spoon in it, accompanied by the hollow thud of metal meeting cardboard. She grins over at him as he walks over to the couch, holding her hand out for him to take when he gets close enough.
"You happy?" he asks as he intertwines their fingers while studying the way their hands magically seem to fit together.
"Mhm…" she smiles, squeezing his hand. "…though I could be happier." she says looking up at him, pulling on his hand so that he has to sit down next to her.
"Oh, you could, huh?" he grins as she leans in close. She smells like ice cream, kind of milky with that hint of pistachio.
She tastes like it too.
When she pulls back for air, all he can taste or smell is pistachio ice cream.
She leans back against the couch with a content sigh.
"I like us." she states quietly, closing her eyes. Her breathing slows down and gets heavier, and he wonders if she's about to fall asleep.
Suddenly, her eyes spring back open and it actually makes him jump a little. There's this worried look to them, and then she's abruptly on her feet heading down the hallway.
And he guesses a whole carton of ice cream is, indeed, too much ice cream.
When she reenters the living room, he's sitting on the couch staring out the window with this gloomy look on his face.
"What's up?" she asks, stopping behind the couch and leaning over the back of it to wrap her arms around him from behind. She feels his chest rise and fall, accompanied by a small sigh.
"Let's see: Its way too hot, there's no power, and it's raining." he says sullenly.
She straightens up to look at the window, and he's right; it is raining. The way it only rains in the summer. The sunlight all yellow and bright, making the raindrops look like silver.
"Neat!" she says with a bit too much enthusiasm, and he actually grunts at her. She always used to love summer rain as a child, running around getting wet without getting cold, her dad ready with a towel for her when she got tired. It was her take on playing in the sprinklers.
"You don't like the rain?" she asks in reply to his grunt, while letting her hands slide from his shoulders, down his chest before coming to a rest on his abdomen, her head ending up on his shoulder.
"Do you not remember what we spent over an hour doing outside in the blistering heat earlier today?" he not so much asks as tells her, while bringing one hand up to trace patterns on the back of one of her hands.
"Right… The truck." she says with realization. "Oh, well. I didn't really do a lot of work on it anyway." she admits with a grin.
"That's right…" he stops playing with her hand. "Don't you remember what I spent over an hour doing outside today?" he corrects himself.
She sighs audibly in his ear, disappointed at him stopping.
He really has issues denying this girl anything, and so the smile quickly returns when he continues his pattern.
"Come on, sourpuss." she says after a while, patting his stomach before standing up straight. "Let's go."
"What are we…?" he turns to look at her with a skeptical frown.
"We're going out." she smiles, that million dollar smile that still makes him all fuzzy on the inside.
"To do what?" he asks, skeptical frown still in place.
"Play." she says simply. He never thought it would be possible, but her smile gets even bigger. She's dead serious though. She's just like a big kid sometimes.
"But it's raining."
This earns him a don't-you-think-I-know look.
"That's the point."
Sometimes he just doesn't understand her.
"Come on." she says impatiently. "Let's go."
She actually has to come over and drag him off the couch to get him to go, but he eventually gives in and follows her outside.
He stays under the awning as she steps out on the front lawn, leaning her head back to let the rain wash over her face.
She looks so blissful standing there with her eyes closed and this little content smile on her lips. It makes him hate the rain a little less, and he finds himself wanting to join her even though he really doesn't want to get wet.
Her head is still thrown back when she looks at him out of the corner of her eye. "Are you joining me or what?"
As much as he might want to, there's that whole getting wet thing that keeps coming back to him. He kind of feels like he has been soaked enough for one day.
"Come on." she encourages. "It's sunny, the rain is warm… It's just great!" she smiles at the sky, her eyes once again closed.
When he still doesn't say anything, she turns to face him. "What? Are you afraid to get a little wet?" she asks in this tone like she's calling him chicken, so he sends a playful scowl her way.
She snorts. "I didn't hear you complaining about getting wet with me this morning in the shower…" she teases. "…or while washing the truck."
With another scowl sent her way, he sighs in defeat and steps out from under the awning.
She's grinning like she just won the biggest lottery in the world when he reaches her.
"You happy?" he asks with a put-on smile.
"Very." she whispers as she takes his hands.
She has got beads of water all over her face and, because of the sunlight refracting off the drops, it actually looks like she's glowing.
Her eyes are closed again, and he just can't help but stare at her. He barely even notices the rain leaving wet tracks on his own face and soaking his t-shirt.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asks when she opens her eyes again.
"You're beautiful, you know." he declares with sincerity.
She smiles shyly and sends him one of those looks saying 'no', 'really?' and 'I know' all at once.
He just raises his brows in silent confirmation, before leaning in to kiss her.
It's warm, wet, and she still tastes like the pistachio ice cream she had for lunch.
She's smiling widely when he pulls back.
"I like your hair like this." she says unexpectedly, letting go of his hands to run her hands through it, making it stand up in all directions.
"Oh, you do, huh?"
"Yup." she smiles. "I can shape it any way I like!"
He feels her forming small spikes, and hopes he won't end up looking like a complete idiot. She notices the hesitant look on his face and smiles.
"Okay, I won't do it." she forfeits, instead patting his head and flattening his hair completely, so that it feels like it's stuck to his scalp.
She just smiles at the disgruntled look on his face before placing a soft kiss on his lips.
All of his thoughts about his hair go away at that.
Then her hands are on the move — down the back of his head, shoulders, and sides, coming to a rest where his t-shirt meets the lining of his pants.
She sneaks one hand up under the t-shirt. It feels cool from the rain, and makes his muscles contract involuntarily, also making him somewhat gasp in the process.
She giggles against his lips, the vibration causing his whole body to tingle with anticipation. Then she moves her hand higher underneath his shirt.
"Andy." he mumbles against her.
"Hm?" she hums in reply, scraping her fingers along his side.
"We should get inside." he whispers, trying to pull back, but suddenly there is a hand on the back of his head keeping him from doing so.
"Okay." she breathes.
She presses up against him, hard, like she can't get close enough. And he gets a bit confused – didn't she just agree to go inside? As much as he would like to have her right there on the front lawn, there are kids and elderly people in the neighborhood, and Sam is not really much of an exhibitionist.
"Aren't we going inside?" he asks, his voice muffled by her lips.
She breaks away for a second to give him a look of exasperation. "Yes." she says, pushing him slightly backwards, and he realizes that that was the reason she was getting so close in the first place.
The moment he starts moving backwards, her lips are back on his again. They stumble clumsily up the stairs, kicking off their shoes as they enter the hallway. She pushes him against the wall as she kicks the door shut, placing her hands on the wall on either side of his head.
He lets his hands roam down her back to her thighs, tugging lightly. She responds by hopping up and wrapping her legs around his waist before he heads towards the bedroom.
—
After their second joined shower of the day, they end up on the couch.
She has lit all of the candles she could find, bathing the room in an orange glow. She didn't bother checking which ones were scented though, and he could really have gone without the mixed scent of lavender, coffee, coconut, and vanilla wafting through the room.
She's stretched out on top of him, wearing her short shorts and a sports bra. He's in a pair of shorts she bought for him a couple of months ago when the weather started heating up. That was when she noticed that he didn't own any leg wear other than jeans and some dress pants.
He's absentmindedly tracing the tan-lines on her arms she has acquired working outside a lot in her short-sleeved uniform this summer.
"Don't tell me you're cold." he mumbles as she shivers on top of him.
"It just tickles…" she mumbles back sleepily into his chest.
"Does it?" he playfully runs his other hand down her ribs, sending a shiver through her again.
"Yes, it does. And don't you dare." she says, changing the position of her head so that her chin is digging into his chest, her brown eyes all business.
He brings his hands up over his head in surrender. "Okay, okay."
Her eyes flicker away from his to the wall behind him.
"Hey, it kinda looks like a parrot!" she says a tad too loudly for being that close to his head. "Just go like…"
"I know how to do shadow puppets." he interrupts her.
"All right! Show me." she says with this daring look in her eyes like she doesn't really believe he can do it.
"Oh, I will." he says with a slight nod and a crooked smile.
With a huge grin on her face, she places her palms on his stomach to push herself into a seated position, getting off of him so that he can sit up.
He moves some of the candles around on the coffee table to make the conditions perfect for shadow puppeteering, before leaning forward and putting his hands together.
"Rabbit." he announces with the slightest hint of pride at the rabbit's head with two pointy ears on the wall.
"Yeah!" she says enthusiastically, though something in her voice makes him feel like she isn't really that impressed.
"Dog." he says, having rearranged his hands into a different position, making the shadow of a dog-like creature appear on the wall.
"Nice." she replies, and again her voice reveals this tone.
"What?" he says, letting his hands drop and turning towards her.
"What?" she responds back, a questioning look on her face.
"You can do better?" he confronts her, and she gets this look on her face saying of course, for just a second, before she pulls herself together.
"Nah." she says, shaking her head unconvincingly, her eyes huge like they always get when she tries to lie to him.
"All right, show me." he challenges, getting up so that they can trade places on the couch.
She looks thoughtful for a second, considering if she really wants to do it, before she shrugs and scoots over.
"Ok." she starts, breathing deeply and stretching her fingers.
"First off, if you're going to do a bunny, do a whole one, not just the head." she says with a pointed look in his direction before she turns to face the wall. In a matter of seconds, a shadow of a complete rabbit appears on the wall. She even makes its front paws move.
She turns back towards him with a smile.
He nods in defeat.
"Then. A dog? Really?" she scoffs, before turning away again. "There are so many breeds, just a dog isn't good enough."
He really doesn't like it when she gets cocky like this. Granted, she does have every right to be, as she shows him the heads of a boxer and a greyhound, before making an entire dog, four legs and tail included.
"Okay. I get your point." he says dully.
"Don't get all sulky." she teases with a small chuckle, which really only serves to make him sulk even more.
"These are some of my favorites." she says, arranging her hands to make an image of a boy appear on the wall. With the slightest rearrangement, like magic, the boy turns into an old man, and Sam really can't help but be impressed.
"How did you learn how to do all of these anyway?" he asks, leaning back on the couch, fed up with being upstaged.
"Oh, my dad used to tell me shadow puppet stories when I couldn't sleep." she says off-handedly, still creating a mass of different animals and shapes with her hands.
He smiles at the images filling his head of the big, bad Tommy McNally sitting on a small sized bed making shadow puppets next to a young Andy.
"It was before all the…" she trails off, and her hands drop to her lap.
He puts his right arm around her and pulls her close. She responds by putting her head on his shoulder with a deep sigh.
"Well, obviously you picked up a thing or two along the way. Who knew that these hands of yours," he says as he takes her right hand in his left and brings it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the back of it, "could be so incredibly skilled in so many different ways?"
"Sam!" she exclaims while pulling her hand out of his hold to swat at his chest, feigning offense to the innuendo.
"What?" he questions with mock innocence.
She just stares at him with this oh-you-know-what-I-mean look.
"I just meant, you know, cooking, firing a gun, shadow puppets, apparently." he elaborates, in an attempt at redemption.
"Sure that's what you meant," she says disbelievingly. Then, in an attempt to wipe the smirk off of his face, she adds, "Well, it's too bad you're not half as skilled as I am."
His mouth drops open in shock, and his face contorts in a look of skepticism. "Excuse me?"
Andy giggles before conceding a bit. "Well, you are pretty good at some things I guess."
His smug smirk reappears, and his hands begin to slowly drift down her abdomen. "Oh yeah?" he whispers into her ear.
"Yep," Andy confirms, "You're a great cook, you clean well, you're great with tools…" for the second time in the past minute, Sam looks at her in disbelief. "…Just, you know…"
He doesn't really think she'll comment on something bedroom-related. It's not like he's heard her complain in that department. Ever. Well, except for when he wants her to. But the look on her face is making something very similar to worry and a severely bruised ego start to brew inside.
"…you need some help in the shadow puppet department." she concludes with a wink.
"Oh, I do, do I?" Sam retorts, trying not to feel annoyed.
"You do," Andy attests, "Especially if you plan on doing them with our kids one day."
Her eyes widen when she realizes what she just said. She turns her head away so she's not looking directly at him, slightly scared of what she'll actually see. When he just remains silent, her curiosity gets the best of her, forcing her to chance a glance at him. His eyes are also wide; his eyebrows are nearly hitting his hairline, and this little something in her stomach is telling her that she's done it now. She's screwed up.
"Okay, sorry. Was that too soon? I mean of course it was. I didn't mean it. Well, I mean, I did mean it, but…" she begins to ramble quickly, in an attempt to save whatever, "…like, just - please don't freak out, okay?"
Sam takes a breath, mostly to restart his heart, and can't stop the grin that begins to overtake his face. "Not freaking out."
Andy calms down a bit at that. "No?" she questions timidly.
"No," Sam confirms with a shrug, "I mean, you're here."
Her only reply to that is a relieved giggle and a slight roll of her eyes, before she buries her face into his chest.
He uses his hand to smooth down the hair on top of her head, and lets his mind wander for a minute. He wonders what they'll look like. Of course they'll have dark hair, their eyes as well. He hopes they'll get her eyes — their honesty, and the way they always tell him if something's wrong. If they turn out anything like her, he'll be happy. Well, they could maybe turn out a bit less messy than her; that they can get from him.
"Sounds like a plan," he says softly as he presses a kiss to the top of her head.
He feels her nod and grin against his skin. Her half mumbled reply begins before she starts lifting her head to look him in the eyes. "Yeah, a plan is good."
He wraps his arms around her even tighter when she presses her lips to his with promise.
Sam pulls back and clears his throat, which has suddenly gotten pretty tight. "So, uh, the lighting is still right. How about you show me some of these puppets?"
"You would do that?" Andy asks softly with awe reflecting from her eyes and shy smile.
"For you? Yeah," Sam responds resolutely, "for you, I would."
~THE END~