AN: Okay you guys, I'm going to try posting my fic here again for ease of access. Not my M-rated stuff yet, but we'll see how it goes.
Sounds of a bustling neighborhood filter effortlessly through the open bedroom window, startling Andy out of a restful sleep for the third time in as many days. At first she doesn't move, eyes squeezed shut and willing herself to fall back asleep despite the still unfamiliar sounds of industrial strength power tools and little girls playing double dutch.
Across the street, a roof repair begins in earnest; a few houses down, a lawnmower sputters noisily to life.
Andy groans and rolls out of bed, planting bare feet securely on the cold floor as she stretches sore muscles. She glances in bemusement at the lightly snoring Sam-shaped lump on the opposite side of the bed. Even asleep, fatigue flows from him in near-tangible waves, the only possible explanation for why the noise hasn't disturbed him.
Shrieking children and lawn-conscious neighbors have ensured that Andy won't fall back asleep any time soon, so she pads into the kitchen, half-awake and in desperate need of caffeine. She searches the cabinets for coffee and sugar, eyes squinting at the contents of disorganized shelves in an attempt to compensate for her drowsiness.
It's not even really that early. Admittedly, she and Sam had gone to bed with the sunrise. A relaxed evening spent marathoning movies had deviated into some pret-ty athletic up-against-the-wall sex.
A few bruises are turning purple high on her shoulder, courtesy of Sam's wooden bookshelf. She'd slipped and bumped against it, outstretched hands failing to break her fall. Luckily, that hadn't broken the mood too.
Seriously though. Wall sex? Harder than it looks.
The coffee is just starting to brew when she feels strong arms wrap around her waist and soft lips on her neck. She gives up the search for sugar—really, where does Sam keep it?—and turns into his embrace.
Andy knows what she must look like, clad in Sam's oversized Academy t-shirt and little else, hair wild from satisfied exhaustion. He's not much better, sleepy-eyed and pleased, pillow lines creasing one cheek. Matching bookends from some just-had-hot-sex bookshelf.
"Where do you keep your sugar," Andy starts to ask, even as he's leaning down to kiss her. She tries to complete the question but is momentarily distracted by soft lips and warm hands.
Breaking the kiss, she tilts her head, trying to slow her breathing. "Saa-am."
He leans back to regard her, eyes fond.
"I was trying to make some coffee, but I can't figure out where you keep the sugar."
Smirking, he replies. "You're my sugar," he says, already reaching for her.
Andy rolls her eyes. "Seriously Swarek? I need to find you a new joke book."
ooo
Two months into their unnamed thing and she still can't get enough of him. Sensing his heated gaze on the back of her neck during parade, or feeling the teasing brush of his hands when they linger in the hallway like schoolchildren, never fails to make her pulse jump and her breath quicken in anticipation.
It's exhilarating. Andy loves it, craves it like sunshine.
There's a spot on her neck that he likes, a pulse point just below her ear. She loses track of the conversation again when he blows on it lightly, sucking gently with just a hint of teeth. Her neck is more sensitive than usual, so she reaches up to touch the area gingerly, only to feel proof of the love bites that Sam's left behind.
She gears up to tell him off and steps back a little to make sure he knows that she's serious. Now is not the time for him to humor her. He thinks she can't tell the difference, but she totally can.
"Sam," she starts, in her best do-not-mess-with-me voice, but she's interrupted by the doorbell.
Changing tactics, Andy continues. "Who's at the door?"
"It's probably just the neighbors selling something. They'll go away if we ignore them."
But Sam's words are proven false when the doorbell rings three more times in quick succession. She feels him stiffen, muscles tightening beneath her fingers, before he relaxes deliberately.
"What is it?" Her pulse quickens, but she tells herself to relax. She's at Sam's house, not some crappy undercover apartment. That was months ago.
"Let me go see who it is. I'll be right back."
Sam leans down to kiss her reassuringly on the forehead, before walking towards the door. It irks her that he's pretending Andy is the jumpy one, but she lets it go.
Whatever.
Still, it's not like she needs Sam to protect her in his own home, so she follows him down the hall.
Ten seconds are all it takes for Sam to reach the door, but it's not fast enough.
"Wait a minute," he yells in an effort to stop the incessant ringing.
He turns the lock, and opens the door slightly. Andy can't see the front step from her vantage point. There's a short silence, during which time she wonders if she should have been worried after all. It's not like she spends much time in Sam's neighborhood. It looks safe, but every cop knows that looks can be deceiving.
Then she hears a very annoyed, very loud, very female voice.
"Samuel James Swarek. What is the matter with you?"
She can hear Sam cough in surprise. "What—Sarah?"
Andy stops, frozen in place. Sarah? As in Sam's sister? From the sound of things, Sarah's not going to be happy with a simple hello-goodbye on the doorstep. Damn.
Evidently, crappy timing is genetic.
Andy's thoughts are confirmed when Sam leans back a little, leaving the wooden door still mostly closed, to glance around. He's visibly unsurprised to see her standing only a few feet away.
Which makes sense. She's always been too 'curious' (nosy) for her own good anyway. The makings of a good cop but…
He just raises his eyebrows and smirks briefly. Suddenly, his eyes grow wide with horror and he jerks his head in the direction of the den, ground zero for last night's-activities.
ooo
It's an old saying. Memories fade with the passage of time.
But Andy is pretty sure—absolutely certain; she amends, searching between Sam's sofa cushions for traces of yesterday's hastily discarded clothing—that she will always remember the way she meets Sam's sister.
Finding a pair of boxers (his), a grey sweatshirt (hers), and five socks (one white, four navy, owners unknown), Andy pelts down the hall to the bedroom. The clothes get tossed on the bed haphazardly as she drags on last night's crumpled jeans and curses her life.
Catching a glimpse of brown hair in her peripheral vision, she turns to look more fully at her reflection. Her heart sinks.
It's pretty obvious what's been going on. Brown eyes wide with adrenaline, hair akin to a birds nest, lips bruised red from kissing. Not to mention that stupid hickey, and the purpling bruises, visible whenever Sam's shirt slips off her shoulder. A horrible way to meet your…person's family.
Too late now.
ooo
Andy can barely tell the difference between Sam's hushed voice and Sarah's slightly louder one as she walks back down the hall, finger combing her hair into some imagined semblance of order.
When she follows the sounds into the kitchen, both siblings stop their conversation and stare at her from opposite ends of the table. She takes in a quick breath and glances at each of them, feigning confidence.
Sam's expression is mostly one of relief, probably because she has pants on. Andy doesn't have the heart to point out that his own shirt is both inside-out and backwards.
Sarah's face is the embodiment of sisterly glee, familiar eyes and dimples looking almost eerie on a rounder face and lighter complexion. Yet, in spite of the heels and business suit, Andy can almost see the little girl that Sam grew up wanting to protect.
"Andy McNally." Sarah's voice teases, glancing between Sam and Andy over and over. "I've heard so much about you."
From the way that she's eyeing Sam though, none of that information is exactly recent. Which is interesting. Maybe.
Andy feels a little bit less like she's just walked down to her own execution. She hides her sigh of relief behind a fake yawn and takes the seat closest to Sam.
"Nice to meet you. Though, I pretty much only know your name." She aims a pointed look at Sam because, seriously. Even coworkers talk to each other about their families.
Sarah snickers. "Yep. That's my brother. Great cop, but a little gun-shy about the other stuff."
She leans in closer to Andy, as if confiding a dark secret. "We used to call him Sir Sammy the Serious."
"Did you come all this way just to annoy me," asks Sam, exasperated. "Because you're doing such a good job that I had to ask."
"Look, I was in the area for a meeting and thought I'd swing by to check up on you. Sue me for wanting to see my brother. A brother that I haven't seen since before his last undercover assignment went south, I might add."
She pauses significantly at that statement, fixing a glare on her brother. Sam has the good sense to look at least slightly guilty.
Sarah continues, satisfied with Sam's level of familial guilt. "I didn't mean to interrupt your lie-in. Though, have you noticed that it's almost noon?"
"We fell asleep really late," says Andy lamely. After crazy sex, she doesn't add, though it probably goes without saying.
Sarah ignores Andy's statement of the obvious and turns to fully face her brother. "Actually, since I'm here—and you're looking pretty healthy—let me talk to Andy instead. Alone."
Sam and Sarah lock eyes for a moment, communicating silently. Sibling telepathy at its finest. Finally, Sam sighs, moving out of the kitchen without even a token protest; though Andy bets that he'll loiter in the hallway, to eavesdrop as much as provide backup.
"Your shirt is on inside out," calls Sarah suddenly, smirking when they hear Sam curse and walk further down the hall towards the bathroom.
ooo
Andy shifts restlessly in her seat. So. She's stuck in a room with Sam's sister. Not a big deal. It's not as though this is some undercover sting operation. No reason to panic. What could she possibly say—
"Are you in love with my brother?"
Andy chokes on air. She knows her mouth is open and her eyes probably look pretty crazy, but she can't seem to unfreeze her body.
"Wha-what?" Is she joking?
Sarah looks serious though, brows furrowed and eyes concerned.
"I only have a few minutes here. Are you. In love. With my brother. I'm only asking because I don't want you jerking him around on a rebound fling."
"Sam is NOT a rebound fling." And wow, maybe she sounds a little defensive. But who does Sarah think she is, acting like she knows the whole story with just one side of the facts? And probably not even that much, given Sam's penchant for keeping everything to himself.
"I don't exactly think that it's any of your business," she continues, still trying to stay polite. It would suck to have Sarah hate her right off the bat.
"I'm his sister. Everything is my business." Sarah smiles slightly, as if reciting the punch line of an inside joke.
Andy wonders, not for the first time, what it would be like to have a sister. Possible more trouble than she'd be worth. Maybe not.
"Sam is-is important to me, but our relationship is private." Andy can sense a loaded silence from out in the hall where Sam is definitely, definitely eavesdropping.
Sarah nods slowly, reading the sincerity in Andy's voice. "I knew I was going to like you Andy McNally."
"That's…nice?" Andy's getting whiplash from the constant changes in Sarah's opinions.
"You'll be good for him." Sarah decides, sealing her approval with a large grin.
Despite being on a different face, the Swarek grin never fails to make Andy smile back helplessly.
"Sam, you can come out of the hallway now," Sarah says, clearly understanding her brother at least as well as Andy does.
She stands up and grabs her purse. "Let me know when you're ready to see some baby pictures Andy. We'll grab lunch."
Sarah winks and Andy laughs.
Alright. Maybe Sarah isn't so bad.
ooo
At the door, Sarah grows serious again. "Not that your love life is any of my business Sammy—"
"It really isn't" Sam agrees.
"—But my gut tells me that this one is a keeper." She flashes a thumbs up sign at Andy.
Sam barks out a laugh and hugs his sister. "GoodBye Sarah. Call first next time," he says, only half joking.
Another minute and she's gone, heels click-clacking down the walkway toward her car. Andy and Sam watch her go.
Once the roar of Sarah's car fades into the distance, Andy remembers the coffee she had been making only moments before. The fog of Sarah's sudden visit clears and the aroma of fresh coffee hangs pleasantly in the air.
Following her train of thought, Sam finally answers Andy's earlier question, "I'm out of sugar."
"Well," Andy says wryly. "It doesn't really matter now. I've already gotten my blood pumping enough for one day."
"Are you sure about that?" Sam asks.
Andy glances at him, already feeling the magnetic pull to his side. His eyes darken as he takes in her sex-tousled hair, the hickey high on her neck, her kiss-bruised lips.
"Okay, maybe I can fit in a little more."
She turns, leading the way back to the bedroom.
He's right behind her.