I'm so excited for tonight's show! And can I just say that I love all the McCollins shippers coming out of the woodwork. I knew you were out there!

Hey, hmarieh, I hope you see this—I do have a current piece I'm working on for them called The Andy Diaries but I haven't published anything yet. I'm sort of basing it on the episodes as they come, so I'm waiting to see what the latest episode brings us.

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Fresh Paint

Andy became conscious of her aching body before she ever opened her eyes and it wasn't just because of a restless night on the ugly green couch she called a bed half the week. Her burning throat, the shivering, and the screaming pain behind her eyes indicated she was well on her way to sick.

"Nick."

She muttered his name as a curse, wincing. He'd made her run in the stupid rain the other day and now she had probably caught pneumonia and was going to die. She worked her way to her feet in stages, teeth chattering. She shuffled into the bedroom praying that Nick didn't shoot her for sneaking up on him as he slept. The room was dark and she moved fairly easily past indistinguishable blobs toward the bed. She tripped over one of his running shoes and stumbled into the foot of the bed, cursing when her shins hit the frame.

"Shit!"

"Andy?" Nick's voice was overly loud in the quiet.

"It's me," she croaked, crawling into the bed from where she stood. They were a tangle of limbs and knees for a moment until he scooted to one side.

"What are you doing? Are you okay?" She could hear the groggy confusion making his voice huskier than normal.

"No, I'm not, jerkface," she retorted. "You made me run in the rain and now I'm freezing and I probably have the plague and I'll be dead by morning and I hate you."

"Shit, that's a lot to process right now." She felt his arm move next to her and heard his hand rasp on his scruffy cheek as he rubbed his hand over his face. He rolled over on his side to face her. "What is that noise? Are your teeth chattering?!"

"Yes," she whined, burrowing into him, seeking his body heat. She felt him stiffen for a moment but she didn't care.

"You're burning up."

"See? Plague," she muttered as he flipped the blanket covering him over her. He reached across her and pulled the other side up over her like her grandmother had done when she was a child.

"I highly doubt it's the plague," he said with a chuckle, rubbing his hands up and down her back in an attempt to stave off her shivers.

"It could be the plague. You don't know."

"I never would have guessed."

"Guessed what?"

"Andy Mcnally is a whiny sick person. Who knew?"

"Nick?"

"Yeah?"

"Blow me."

"Not nice."

She snuggled further into his arms with a soft sigh as her body began to warm and relax.

…..

Nick awoke with an armful of Andy. His knee rested on her cocooned legs, her head tucked under his chin. Even wrapped up like a burrito in the bed cover she fit nicely against him. He swallowed hard, realizing that he was very likely in trouble.

He loved Gail, he really did. But he had to work at loving her and he felt like he had to work for her affection in return. Was that really how it should be? Shouldn't it be easy? Natural? There was nothing more natural than his friendship with Andy. She had never made him feel like an outsider, not even in the beginning. Their friendship had solidified quickly with their partnerships on shift and had only grown deeper as they worked undercover.

Andy made him laugh, really laugh, and he was beginning to understand that his affection for her was different than what he had for Gail. Gail was familiar, comfortable. He appreciated her prickliness and the softer side she didn't share with anyone. But what used to excite him about her when they first started dating in their early twenties was her toughness. He'd wanted to crack that and he had, in stages, but he never felt like her really just got Gail and he no longer felt like he needed a conquest. He didn't need to prove that he could get the tough, pretty girl. He knew her and appreciated her for who she was and of course he loved her. But was it a romantic love? He just didn't know any more.

He'd always thought Andy was beautiful. Who didn't? Most of the guys in the division were half in love with her. She was tough, fearless, a good cop, and genuinely nice. They meshed well. She wasn't afraid to be vulnerable with him and she was unflappable. He could harass her and she gave it right back to him. No anger, no hurt feelings. There was no pretense there. How could he not admire her? Not want to be around her? The more time he spent with her, the more time he WANTED to spend with her. He wanted to learn the nuances of what made her tick. His world was shifting and he wasn't sure what to do about it.

What he knew for sure is that he had to get up. It was way too comfortable to have her in his arms. He didn't even mind the drool on his chest or her not so ladylike snoring. He gently shifted her so that he could free his arm and slid out of bed. He'd go get them breakfast and find a drug store. Maybe the walk would do him good and give him time to clear his head.

When Andy woke up, Nick was gone. She felt like hammered hell and was disappointed that he wasn't there to take care of her. She looked for a note telling her he had to "work" but she didn't find one. Mumbling, she decided that she'd give herself a much needed pedicure. She hated sitting around long enough to let the polish dry but since she was sick, she didn't feel like moving much anyway. She was carefully painting the toes on her second foot when Nick came in.

"I thought you ran away," she quipped, her voice froggy. He shot her a sympathetic look.

"Ouch. I got us some breakfast and you some plague fighters," he said with a grin, holding up a plastic bag.

"There's no cure for plague. It's certain death and it's all on you."

"Oh my God, you're dramatic. You feel well enough to paint your toes."

"Had to do something, you abandoned me." A wicked smile spread across her face as an idea came to her. "I feel well enough to paint your toes too."

"No."

"Come on, Nick."

"Nope. Not happening."

"But it would make me feel better and you DID make me sick, so you totally owe me. Besides, aren't you the guy who said you weren't too cool for anything? Pleeeeease," she said, giving him her best puppy dog look.

"Argh, not the look. You're not allowed to use that on me!"

"Please, Nick? I'll be your best friend."

"You're already my best friend, dork."

"It'll make my whole day."

"Shit," he said with a groan, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Yay!" She scooted to the end of the couch so he could sit and put his feet in her lap.

"You tell anyone about this and I'll call you a dirty liar," he said.

"Oh, whatever," she said, carefully spreading hot pink polish on his nails.

He watched, amused, as she giggled and painted. He looked like an idiot but it was totally worth it to see her haggard face light up with delight and to hear her raspy laughter. When she was done, she sat back and admired her work with a sniff.

"Even I can smell that," she commented.

"What's that?"

"Fresh paint."