A/N: thank you for all the reviews and follows ;) enjoy the second part
Part II
The next kiss, not even in the remote vicinity of short-lasted or friendly-seeming, happened mid walk in a fierce flow, the context of lips pressed sharply against her own, kissing hurried and impatient. Stumbling backwards in her high heels, Sharon held herself tightly to his sturdy frame, her arms around his middle and her hands holding on to his shoulder blades. The man took her breath away as he followed her into the middle of her living room, his stride quick. It was one of those continuous kisses that were one kiss on top of another, not leaving much space for air, keeping on and on, sloppy but heady.
Sharon felt utterly lost in it.
So lost in fact, that she left everything else up to him; she heard the click of her front door shut close when he kicked his foot backwards as they moved away from the threshold of her door; she followed his guiding hands to her living room, happy to allow him to steer, the insistent press of his larger palms against her waist an easy direction to follow.
She only focused on kissing him back with the same fervor.
In the course of their dating, however fascinating that had been, their interactions had been permeated by a tentative nature. Tentative because Sharon had been holding herself back to a certain degree; tentative because he had held back on account of her.
She wanted him, fully. She wanted him without all the hesitations and second-thoughts.
The pressure of the kiss changed and deepened, the urgency, unbridled, felt like an electric force spiraling through her, magnified and intoxicating.
He cupped her cheeks, his palms resting warmly against her skin as he turned her head to gain better access to her lips, his thumb drawing a circle almost absently.
The extra touch, that absent little caress on her cheek, emboldened her. She sought the pressure, her own mouth eager to draw out the connection. The tingle of kissing him heightened every inch of her body. It was amplified arousal coursing through her not unlike the blossoming of spring, enforcing and brisk, and she responded back in the same desperate fashion, eager to show him that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Desperation was at some level, the crux of her motivation. She felt desperate to have him, to touch him, to have him override her entire existence. She could feel it in his kiss and in his touch that the breathless sensation of desperation that clung to her likewise clung to him. To have that connection, to share that same feeling, was powerful. So powerful she forgot herself for a glorious moment, only pushing her body up against his, rising up on her toes as she quickened another kiss along.
She clung to him like glue, her fingers around the collar of his shirt, her chest pressed unashamedly against his.
She had no care in the world but for his lips.
Between heavy, drugging kisses he gazed affectionately at her, his eyes holding her in a strange form of stasis. His thumb gently trailed another small circle on her cheek, his mouth moved slightly apart while his eyes centered exclusively on her face, softening.
In those small moments, between desperate kisses, she felt exuberantly surreal. She felt unguarded and raw, see-through and nervous, all compiled in one curious emotion.
In those small moments, Andy looked on the cusp of saying something heartfelt and decapitating, his eyes searching and warm. He must have read the nervous expression on her face because instead of talking, he only leaned his head down and once again captured her mouth in a tingling kiss, his fingers pressing softly on her jaw.
Then it was another round of rushed kissing, sharing ragged breaths between.
This time it started slow like a simmer and then blazed into a fire. A gentle kiss to the edge of her mouth and then a soft kiss closer to the middle of her lips. Then a slightly more provocative kiss to her bottom lip that quickly swallowed her whole lip up in a capture. Then a kiss that lasted longer and covered more, his lips warm and seeking. The a kiss where his tongue swept out and she answered back, her hands grasping tightly around his middle as she stumbled backwards, unsure of her balance but trusting his stance.
Andy held on to her with a steady hand on her waist, his lips certain and following hers when she tethered.
She easily and hurriedly tugged his shirt from his pants, taking a hold of the garment in her fisted hands, able to dispense her tension into the grip, happy to have something inanimate to hold onto.
He was adamant on pushing her backwards till the firm touch of the backrest of her sofa rested against her spine, his hands cradling her head possessively and his mouth insistent on hers. He stole her breath and yet imbued her with breath, the tingle of his lips against hers remarkably astounding.
She might have moaned more than once in the midst of it all.
Jackson used to kiss her like this.
In the early days.
Whereas this notion might have soured her demeanor years back, now it only reinforced her arousal, her desire. The inflection in Andy's kisses was genuine to her and even though they reminded her of something else that had once been genuine, they did not throw her off. If anything, it comforted her.
Andy had told her, in many ways small as well as big, how much he cared about her and yet, when you were as emotionally repressed as she was – she could admit to this now – then it was certainly delightful to get it reiterated upon every kiss of his. To understand the echo of his touch and the underlying look behind his gaze; to know he genuinely wanted her to feel loved. To know that he wanted to be better for her; to know he acted.
In that aspect, his definition of love differed gravely from Jackson's.
They both slowed down and then it ended with a warm kiss, their lips slow to let go. They both waited with bated breaths as they leaned against each other. The backrest of her sofa was solid against her back and his form was solid in front, his hands reverently caressing the underside of her jaw again. The quiet touch was humbling in the midst of fire.
The break was another aspect that took her breath away.
Her apartment was silent, half cast in shadows.
His eyes raked over her, heavily concerned with her heaving chest and what she figured was the outline of her cleavage.
Sharon smiled.
When he looked up and caught her expression, Andy smiled back, "I could get lost in kissing you."
The comment made her blush.
He leaned in, his mouth against her ear, "You don't know how much I've been looking forward to this." His voice was low and throaty, and it travelled through her in a spike of electricity, peaking in her lower abdomen.
"I want you real bad," he growled in a whisper, his breath tingling her ear.
Sharon could only nod in a breathless response and then she tightened her hold on his shirt and pulled him closer, opening her legs to invite him further in.
His thigh resolutely went between her legs, thick and hard as he pushed her legs further apart, her skirt sliding higher up and straining against the stretch.
She gripped harder around his shirt, her fingers tense and shaking. She arched backwards over the armrest, drawing him into another searing, desperate kiss.
She nearly whimpered when one of his hands roughly pushed her skirt even higher up, the material no longer restraining. It bunched around her waist, the edge precariously close to bottom of her ass. His clothed thigh slid fully between her thighs, against the lining of her underwear, the pressure of it bolting through her.
One of her heels left the floor and her legs spread even further apart, his thigh holding her up as much as the backrest under her back.
Curling one hand around the back of his neck, she kissed him harder, more impatiently. In response he growled into her mouth, his thigh bumping up against her clothed center and she nearly fainted from warmth. She had not been kissed like this in far too long; it had the taste of infinity, keeping on and on, their mouths firmly interlocked.
His hands roamed down the sides of her waist, sure, adamant touches that she liked the rough feel of. Then he slipped around and grasped her ass, his fingers tracing the outline of her muscles.
She bent one leg around his middle, and pushed her center firmly against his clothed thigh. Her skirt was entirely misplaced now, only her underwear in the way.
She felt reckless.
She felt horny.
Oh damn.
The notion seemed funny to her.
When they broke apart to breathe in air again, she couldn't contain her mirth and the way it mixed with a bout of self-consciousness. She hurriedly buried her face in the crook of his neck, keeping a tight hold of his shirt and middle, pressing herself against him to both hide and calm down.
Her breath was labored and she was flushed to the core.
How the hell was she supposed to go through more of this without completely melting into a puddle? They were barely getting started – kissing and grinding against his thigh was not even close to what she had in mind – and yet she was already so bothered and hot it felt like she couldn't possibly attain anything higher. She felt so coiled in on herself that the next probably thing could only be to uncoil.
His hands caressed the lower point of her back, keeping her firmly in place and balanced. His thumbs moved carefully up and down, warm and comforting on her spine.
"You alright?" he asked in a mumble close to her ear, her hair subduing the sound.
She nodded, still hiding her face against him, encapsulated in warmth and his scent.
"Just getting my breath," she told him, her voice sounding strangely hoarse.
She could feel the firm outline of his erection and it was nerve-racking.
It was settled against her lower abdomen and whenever the top of his thigh moved against her underwear, she could feel it against her, the combination of that and the feel of arousal, slick and strong, rapidly coalescing and blazing around her center, it was enough to stupefy her.
She shuddered, biting down on her bottom lip, intensely focused on the feeling of simply being here, enfolded in his arms and held up. The force and warmth of her own desire was new to her in many ways, or maybe she simply had to get reacquainted with it.
She felt his nose part her hair away and then slightly wet lips landed on her neck, kissing a trail to the back of her ear.
"Let's make some coffee, huh," he offered, the voice heavy against the shell of her ear.
She somehow liked the sound of a small break.
Sharon leaned back from him, her spine on the point of protesting and she smiled shyly as she observed him.
Andy grinned back, "You know, real coffee. I would love that. Especially seeing someone, in a wicked turn of events, deterred me from ordering a cappuccino at the restaurant."
Bless the man.
She needed a bit of humor now.
Sharon shook her head, amused and giddy, "I did not deter you from anything. I simply explained to you, the – erm," she briefly looked away to stop herself from laughing. When she continued, her voice trembled with quiet laughter, "the facts of the night."
"Is that so," he retorted dryly, one eyebrow raised and his head tilted.
"Mmhmm," she hummed, her face once again heating up at his look.
There was nothing to misconstrue from that look of encompassing love.
Andy took a step back, his hand under her arm to help her. He brought her with him, her foot landing back on the floor again, her balance unsteady for a second before he righted her with one hand to her waist and the other enfolding around her own hand, their fingers intertwining.
Sharon quickly righted her skirt, pushing it hastily down, her cheeks red when she looked up and caught him looking. She used his shoulder for support and then quickly toed out of her heels, instantly a head shorter.
Before she slipped into the kitchen to brew coffee he pulled her back, her hand in his, and then he deposited the softest kiss to her lips, lingering before he let go. It was once again short and sweet, and still as breathtaking as the others.
Sharon turned the lights on as she went into to her kitchen even if she felt more certain of herself in the half dark.
Andy followed her into the kitchen and she kept looking bashfully over her shoulder only to find him studying her with eyes burning, the gaze lingering exclusively on her behind when he wasn't looking at her eyes. The notion that he was staring at her ass only elated her.
If she had been under the delusion that making coffee would constitute a break, then she was swiftly enlightened. Andy followed her with his eyes and that gesture lightened her on fire. Then the man surprised her and enveloped her in an embrace from behind, his chin on her shoulder as he watched her grind the coffee beans. His arms were warm against her ribcage and she trembled when she felt his hands move down over her stomach and then even more so when he trailed his fingers under the hem of her skirt, resting them on her hip bones. His thumbs went farther, touching the bare skin of her lower abdomen, close to the band of her underwear. His mouth moved to the side of her neck, a heavy kiss on the brink of becoming a mark if the pain and force of it was a clue.
The bite tingled all the way to her core.
When was the last time someone had kissed her that hard? Sucked her skin in, teeth sharp – and then soothingly puffed air and soft lips on the spot?
She had to stop several times and restart the grinding, too preoccupied by the feeling of his long body behind her, the noticeable bulge against her backside and his lips on her neck distracting to say the least.
"Now, who's the one preventing coffee?" she mused out aloud, her voice soft and warm. She sent a smile over her shoulder as she quickly poured water into the coffee machine.
"You are distracting," he simply retorted, the comment followed by his palm journeying the curve of her spine.
Sharon laughed and then shook her head, further amused, "No. You are distracting me."
"On purpose," Andy added with a cheeky smile.
Sharon smiled coyly, "Well, do you want coffee or not?"
He shrugged casually too occupied by flattening the cloth of her skirt, his palm lingering on her ass.
All the touching was slowly and surely driving her insane.
By the time they both had a steaming cup of coffee between their palms, she was on fire. Her skin felt aflame from every caress and touch, tingling and blazing, impatiently yearning for his touch again.
Then it was the blaze of his gaze that burned through her, over the rim of his coffee cup. He stood against her kitchen counter, leaning on it and openly staring at her with a smirk curling dangerously on his lips.
Her hands shook when she lifted the cup to her own lips. The coffee was bitter and welcome and she closed her eyes trying to find some semblance of control. It was hard – not that she begrudged it. It was just – novel, this feeling of spinning out of control and letting go of herself.
It was with the savor of coffee he kissed her again and she hung onto his lips and the taste, feeling bolstered by the adrenaline of caffeine and the electricity that ran through her blood.
Bolstered enough to let her hands run confidently down the curve of his chest and abdomen, slipping past his belt and then, softly running the length of her index finger down his erection. She could feel him through the cloth of his pants, the outline half gorged, filling as she ran her finger back up, pressing.
He groaned against her lips, the tone prickling.
She touched him again, turning her hand around and palming him fully.
Just the notion of that part of his anatomy and it was not unlike slipping into a lake of fire.
She led him into her bedroom, her eyes on his, careful to catalogue the expression.
…
"If I hear one more stupid remark about Jonny goddamn Worth and his ability to look like a Ken doll at the crack of dawn, I might just throw up on your pristine floor," Andy told her in a hushed voice, his eyes lingering on her as he spoke.
The man stood in her kitchen, leaning casually against the kitchen counter with his sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened. He was watching Sharon pour out the remaining, now cold and undrinkable tea into the sink, his eyes dark with an emotion she had trouble labeling.
Sharon looked over her shoulder and for a brief moment – a very brief and ridiculous moment –she was absolutely certain he had been looking at her ass. The notion was quickly and forcibly shoved away. It was ludicrous; she was certain of that.
"Be my guest," she smiled at him, "Just know you'll be doing the cleaning up as well."
Andy grunted, "Oh please. Everyone and their grandmother have been making gooey eyes at the idiot. I even thought we were going to lose Hobbs for a moment. She seemed especially dreamy-eyed about it all."
Sharon shook her head, amused at his expense.
"Oh, I'm detecting some jealousy," she gave him a direct look, her mouth twitching with a smile, "Are you jealous, lieutenant Flynn?"
"Naturally, Captain," he easily replied with a lopsided smile and enough sarcasm to make her smile widen.
Sharon shook her head again and then ran the warm tap, rinsing the teapot under the spray of water.
"Just admit it, even you think Jonny Worth is good-looking," she teased, mindful to watch his expression out of the corner of her eye.
She saw him roll his eyes.
"Sure, sure. Good-looking in that special sleazebag kinda way."
Sharon laughed again.
Andy took another step closer, leaning on the counter with an elbow, his proximity apparently not the least bit strange to him; he looked to be enjoying himself immensely.
There was a mischievous glint in his eyes. She was certain it was the same look that told everyone he was up to no good – in that charming fashion that always and surely slipped under her armor.
"So, you've got a crush on him too? – like Hobbs?"
She gave him a mysterious smile and a casual shrug, happy he looked thrown back by her glib demeanor.
He lifted an eyebrow and pursed his mouth, clearly waiting for some clarification.
"Oh, no, no crush. Jonny Worth is most assuredly not my type," she mused.
"Who's your type then," he asked directly, his smile characteristically bold. Underneath it she depicted his curiosity.
She walked into that one on her own account.
Sharon quickly turned the tap off and then let the teapot sit in the sink. Turning around she crossed her arms and then leaned back in lieu of him, mindful of the small gathering in her living room den still celebrating Rusty's graduation. No one seemed to be paying her kitchen any attention, however.
"Why do you ask?" she playfully turned back to Andy, a raised eyebrow to counter.
Andy shrugged with a smug smile, "Oh, you know. Simple curiosity. For all I know, you like ladies."
She shook her head, ignoring his dig at her, "Andy – I don't have a type."
He raised a dubious eyebrow, "Oh c'mon. Everyone has a type."
She was tempted to tell him that her type turned out to be the heartbreaking-stomp-on-the-pieces-kind-of-type but then really, she did not feel like ruining the light mood. She felt happy and carefree tonight; there was no need to bring up the past to darken the mood.
"Why don't you tell me your type first then," she countered with a sly smile. She drew her finger along the counter top, her eyes briefly on his eyes and then she unconsciously lowered her gaze to his chest – and then even more briefly her gaze landed on his groin, not sure why that area suddenly caught her attention out of the blue. It surprised her and she quickly looked away from that part of his anatomy, her cheeks warming.
"Brunette," he told her, his lips curled around a self-assured smile.
"Brunette," she repeated, feeling stupidly self-conscious.
"Bossy," he added, the smile now a fully-fledged smirk.
Sharon raised one eyebrow high and tried not to fidget on the spot. The man was just teasing her – in that way friends teased each other, surely.
"Any other adjective starting with b you would like to add to the list, hmm?"
"Oh yeah," he nodded eagerly, his eyes smiling. "Beautiful. Brave," he paused and she knew he was about to say something inappropriate, his mouth twitching.
"Breasts-y," he grinned wide, obviously proud of himself, "Bountiful, if you get the gist."
"Oh I get the gist," she puffed, feigning a grimace.
He chuckled, the sound delightfully happy to her ears, "Yeah, yeah. I could go on."
She pursed her lips mockingly.
He grinned and then listed off, "Brilliant, buoyant. Bitchy, at times."
Once again, he made her laugh, "That's not a type, Andy."
His eyes crinkled, "Hmm, maybe not. But don't mind that. Now, tell me yours."
Sharon shook her head.
Andy pouted, his dark eyes glinting with humor, "Pretty please."
She shook her head once again, amused and intrigued by this turn in their conversation. "You really don't need to concern yourself with my love life. I am more than certain that it does not fall within your job description."
"Ah, ah," he shook a playful finger at her, "it sure as hell falls within the purview of a friend."
"Some friend you are," she joked and crossed her arms, giving him a pretend hard glare, "threatening to puke on my floor, standing in my way," she pointed at him invading her kitchen, obstructing her path, "and then interrogating me."
"What are friends for," he chuckled good-heartedly with an open-handed shrug.
For a short moment, intense and powerful, she felt unable to respond. Her eyes were simply stuck on him, irrevocably. She felt self-conscious and yet, she did not mind staring at him nor did she mind the fact that he was staring back at her in the same manner.
"So," he grinned after a prolonged pause that teetered close to the brink of embarrassment, "do you by any chance have a tooth pick I can borrow?"
Sharon smirked and then pointed at the top drawer to his left, "Go ahead but just take it. I don't want it back. You can keep it."
"Mighty generous of you," he grimaced at her and then he pulled the drawer out and rummaged around with the contents till he found a box of tooth picks.
Sharon was still transfixed.
Her eyes were now focused on his broad back. Then she found her eyes deviating downwards, to his spine and the back of his thighs.
She felt her body heat up and she quickly forced herself to look away, knowing that if she kept staring she would end up completely red-faced and he would surely know the direction of her gaze.
"You know," Andy said when he turned back to look at her, one tooth pick now cradled between his lips and his eyes once again on her with an impish glow, "I think I know your type after all."
She pursed her mouth, "Oh really?"
"Yeah. It's self-explanatory, really. What does every hall monitor need, huh?"
She tried to contain her giggle.
"What then, pray tell?" she managed to get out between her lips without laughing.
He took the tooth pick out and pointed it at her, "Someone to tell them to have a good time, you know. Let go of the rules – stay out after dark, that sorta thing."
"Oh, so you think I need a rulebreaker, is that it?"
"Yeah," he grinned, "Incidentally, I know a good rulebreaker. Easy on the eyes, charming to boot."
She laughed with a hand holding on to her stomach. "Oh, just stop. You are going to make me pee my pants."
He chuckled, "Captain Raydor peeing her pants! Damn, that's one for the water cooler. Narcotics will have a field day, surely."
"Shush," she waved her hand dismissively at him, trying her best to not snort.
She did not succeed by the look on his face; he looked mightily entertained.
"Sharon," Rusty prodded with a smiled as he entered the kitchen, clearly not seeing Andy at first. Her boy stopped short when he noticed Andy however, and then Rusty looked between them with a suspicious glance, "what are you two laughing about?"
Andy was the first one to compose himself. He grinned at Rusty and then smoothly replied, "Oh, just, you know, the usual. Sharon here is about to pee her pants. Nothing special, you see."
"Don't listen to him, honey," Sharon told Rusty with another badly concealed smile, her hand out and briefly landing on the boy's shoulder.
Rusty shook his head, obviously confused but a smile broke through and then he sneakily retorted, "Oh don't worry, Sharon. I won't – because Lieutenant Flynn is not making a lot of sense."
"He usually isn't," she said with a furtive glance at Andy, her hand squeezing Rusty's shoulder.
"Oh, sure, gang up on me," Andy threw his hands up in the air.
Rusty gave Sharon a secretive look and then nervously commented, "That's what families do, you know. Gang up on other people."
Sharon laughed and then gave her boy a quick one-shoulder embrace, happy he was enjoying himself after all. Rusty surprisingly hugged her back, his cheeks blushing rosy when he glanced at Andy out of the corner of his eyes, obviously not comfortable enough to hug her in front of others yet. Still he hugged her. It warmed her heart further.
Incidentally, later on when saying farewell to the remaining guests, Andy Flynn surprised her yet again.
The man hugged her goodbye.
It was short and friendly and just on the tipping scale of being classified as lingering. His scent embraced her, just as heavily as his arms, the contact novel and warming. It brought forth a full scale tingling in her abdomen, a fluttering and flittering she likened to butterflies taking off, wings flapping. Her cheeks warmed as well and when he let go, she couldn't contain a broad smile from flexing her lips.
She found herself rather enamored with the idea of hugging him.
With the idea that she knew how his body felt up close to her own.
…
Some days silence was heavy and deafening, the bright glare of the sun offending though the window pane in her office, the air stymied. Some days when working on after action reports, in the quiet of the building after hours, she found herself in a contemplative mood.
This was one of those days.
The view into the squad room from her office gained more of her attention than the paperwork on her desk. She swiveled her chair to the side, her eyes briefly on the broad expanse of Andy Flynn's back before she determinedly forced herself to look away.
In F.I.D they had resolved the hard cases with going out, the small group of detectives in internal affairs naturally excluded from the rest of the force. They had had their own place; a cozy café that had offered its fair share of breakfast and brunches; the seventy-two hour cycle she had been under back then, had always somehow ended at the crack of dawn and she enjoyed those lazy breakfasts with a couple of sergeants.
Sharon was stuck doing the end-of-case paperwork; heavier on account of the pending court case. It was fast approaching dinner time and her hunger made its presence known with a rumble or two.
Being the boss meant working after everyone had gone home. It was hard to out delegate paperwork, not that she particularly wanted to. Oh, her team was exceptional in their field of work; paperwork and the finer points of pushing said paperwork was not their forte. Mike Tao had gone home, Buzz as well. Provenza was nowhere to be found – Julio likely with the older man, she figured. Amy surely out to find Lieutenant Cooper.
There was just the lonely figure of Andy Flynn out in the squad room, his back to her as he fiddled morosely with something on his computer. Had it been any other case, she would have told him to go home like the others. Told him to get out of the building before it sucked them in again. Something was holding her back; instead she was observing him and pretending to work.
There was not much to gain from the back of his head. No expression to gauge his mood from, just the slight view of a grimace when she happened to catch him in profile.
She wanted to do something for him, support him like he unequivocally supported her. The notion that she wanted to cheer him up was almost a desperate need. She decided not to reflect too much upon why she felt like this.
Instead, after absolving that she would get nothing more done, she closed her office off and then walked out into the squad room. She strode to his desk, mindful of the staccato of heels that more than effortlessly announced her approach.
She lingered by his desk, her smile cordial and inviting.
He looked at her briefly, a strained smile before he gazed back at the computer again.
"Andy," she said her voice soft.
She decided to sit down instead of looming over him. Delicately moving a file folder aside she sat down on the edge of his desk, mindful of her skirt, her legs crossed.
He had folded his jacket over the back of his chair and his shirt sleeves were rolled up.
Under different circumstances he would have looked at ease.
"Hm?" he hummed, engaged in a search on his browser.
"Let's go out, get something to eat. My treat," Sharon offered in a low voice even going as far as half way reaching out to touch his arm before she remembered her position and quickly withdrew her hand. The shoulder bump had to be enough touching for the day.
Andy looked at her fully, his hands leaving the keyboard.
"Your turn to what?" he asked, distracted.
It never got any easier dealing with the murder of children or adolescents, or any other human being for that matter, the age was inconsequential. It was still so new to her, even going on three years, and her armor wasn't as hard and tough as his.
Usually she counted on him to be there to rely on; to be a sounding board and a friend when she needed him. He had worked homicide just as long as she had worked internal affairs, and she valued his experience in the field. Yet somehow though, this case struck extra hard.
Sharon had yet to figure out why. Not that his behavior was to be called upon nor was there anything specific about it that she could put her finger upon. No, she was simply curious. Maybe there was something he wanted to talk about – to get off his chest. Maybe Alice reminded him of his own daughter.
"My turn to pay for dinner," she smiled invitingly and this time she forgot herself, her hand out on instinct. Her fingers landed just short of his elbow and she squeezed, happy to see his brown eyes focus on her. She even detected a small glint of warmth in them.
"Oh, like that," he smiled back, the warmth of it genuine, "I could go for some food, yeah. Starving to tell you the truth. Though, I'm pretty sure it's my turn to pay."
Sharon shook her head amused, "No, no. You end up saying that every single time."
"Because it is my turn," he emphasized with a grin and then crossed his arms, "You paid for the fancy squid last time, remember? At that fancy Oceanside open-kitchen."
She pursed her lips, just barely containing the smile.
He only smiled boyishly in return.
Sharon conceded, "Okay, so it's your turn."
Her answer only elicited an even more devious smile, "So; you are inviting yourself to dinner, is that it?"
She crossed her arms, secretly happy he was in a good enough of a mood to joke with her, "If you won't let me pay, then yes."
"You have a real knack for inviting yourself along to things, don't you?" he teased her.
She only shook her head, amused at how easy it was to cheer him up.
"So, whose turn is it to pick?"
"You go ahead, lieutenant Flynn," she smiled, "I feel safe enough to assume you are going to pick something that will offer more variation that the usual fast food place Rusty goes for."
Andy rolled his eyes, the gesture not in the least condescending when his smile stayed firmly on, "You know me, vegetarian all the way."
She raised an eyebrow, "I have seen you stuff bacon in your mouth on numerous occasions."
He shrugged, "To humor Provenza, you know, otherwise I would never hear the end of it."
She smiled, "Just admit it; you love bacon."
He shrugged again, this time with a smile.
"I know just the place," Andy told her, "Quiet, vegetarian and non-vegetarian for you. Usually it's not too busy. They even have burgers, if you are bringing the kid."
Sharon smiled, "Rusty will appreciate the sentiment another time. He's got chess practice today."
Andy nodded, "So," he stood up, half yawning before he covered his mouth with a hand, "Let's beat this joint." He turned his computer off and gathered files and folders and unceremoniously pushed the entire bunch into his top drawer.
Sharon shook her head at his unusual display of disorder; next to Provenza's desk, Andy's was the second in line for being particularly ordered.
He saw her raised eyebrow and grinned, "I'm coming back."
Her eyebrow only rose higher, "I should order you to go home after dinner but knowing you, you would probably end up here no matter what I tell you."
"There's no game tonight – what's a guy to do?"
Sharon shook her head, and then with a hand gesture toward the elevators, she said, "You lead the way, lieutenant."
She watched him humor her with a bow, and then he quickly put his jacket back on and righted his tie, making a grimace at her that looked comical under the circumstances.
She was surprised when he leaned close to her, his breath warm and his voice quiet, "Thank you, Sharon."
She lifted an inquisitive eyebrow.
"I mean for being there when we said our goodbyes to Alice. Helping with arranging it and everything. It means a lot to me," he paused and his somber expression transformed into mischief, "Also, you know, thank you for getting me out of this dump as well, inviting yourself to dinner on my account."
She smiled softly, "You're welcome."
He offered his arm charitably and with a friendly smile.
She walked next to him, her arm looped through his as if it was a natural occurrence. It was more of a strange, rare event; likely to happen again now that it had happened once. She shook her head at herself.
Oh they touched on occasion and she found their friendship deviating towards something more complex, something that was hard to pinpoint exactly but still, she catalogued the escalating touching that were happening nowadays. It befuddled her in some ways.
"I'm sorry I lost my temper earlier," he told her as they walked, the words sounding honest. She looked at him and found his eyes intensely on hers.
"You did?" she wondered, not sure what he meant. To her, he rarely lost his temper anymore.
"In electronics. I went a bit haywire on Hobbs. She didn't tell you?"
"Oh, that," she shook her head and then gave him a comforting smile, "I wouldn't say you lost it. You were upset about the offer of second degree murder. Understandable."
"I snapped Hobbs' head off," he mused, his eyes contemplative, "and ran out in a huff like a five-year-old."
"Andy," Sharon smiled soothingly, "It's nothing."
He gave her a funny look and then grumbled, ""Funny, that's a platitude you never once told me when I happened to run into you in F.I.D. Back then, it was always a catastrophe when I lost my temper."
Sharon giggled, "Oh," she had to stop herself from calling him honey. She quickly pushed that endearment far away – far, far away.
She shook her head at him and his obvious uncertainty. "That's because back then you lost your temper catastrophically, I might add. Today was nothing. You have mellowed out over the years."
"I have mellowed out?" he repeated, voice full of disbelief. His eyes smiled though and then he joked, "Are you saying I've gone soft?"
She squeezed his wrist, her shoulder unintentionally bumping gently against his again, "Yes."
He pretended to look insulted about it, "I'll give you soft, alright."
Sharon only snorted in response, quickly looking away to cover her expression.
This time Andy bumped his shoulder against hers, "Hey – you are making me feel insecure about myself here."
She laughed outright at that and in between soft giggles, she stuttered, "Oh, that's not what I meant." She nearly hid her face in his shoulder but instead she cleared her throat, "You've changed in the last decade, that's what I'm saying. You had quite the temper ten years ago; thankfully I was not present for the majority of those temper fits. Though we did use the stories for entertainment in our break room in Internal Affairs. "
Andy grinned at her, his eyes twinkling, "So, you gossiped about me, huh."
She rolled her eyes, "Occasionally. The hothead from Robbery/Homicide, hmm, I might have talked about you from time to time."
"Yeah, I was a bit of a tough nut back then. Now, I'm apparently all soft and gooey."
Sharon smiled, "Only when it's warranted."
They stopped short in front of the elevators and Sharon watched Andy push the button. The position felt awkward now that they were not walking. There was something about standing arm in arm that felt too intimate – and too out in the open at work.
She quickly excused herself and then rested both of her hands in the pockets of her blazer, thankful that it meant there was some space between them. Air to breathe in and space to avoid her cheeks warming up in color.
Sharon looked at the panels, aware that he was now studying her.
There was the soft hum of the elevator moving and a second after the doors opened.
After another second of silence in the elevator box as they moved down to the garage, she tentatively asked him, "So, you are alright? There's nothing going on?"
"Going on?" he knitted his brows in confusion.
Sharon shrugged, "Oh, just. How's your blood pressure?"
He shrugged, "Fine, fine. The pills take care of that."
She nodded, and then prodded further holding her breath, "And Nicole and the boys?"
His expression immediately turned warmer and his mouth curled naturally upwards, "They are great. I talked to Nicole yesterday – a really great talk, you know. Not the awkward phone call we usually have, just a normal chat."
Sharon smiled, "Oh, I'm happy to hear that."
"Well, it's all because of you."
"How's so?"
"I don't know – I just think my daughter admires you, and so by extension, I must not be that bad."
Sharon grabbed his arm again as the doors opened and they walked into the garage, "You aren't bad at all, Andy."
He shrugged. "Redemption takes time."
She nodded, slowly, "It does."
She squeezed his wrist again, just because it lifted the corners of his mouth and his eyes warmed. She liked it when they were warm.
"How do you feel about vegetables shakes?" he asked her, "like beetroot and carrot and other god-awful healthy stuff."
"I like god-awful healthy stuff," she said, her voice low and her eyes on him with a smile.
…
Tbc