What I own: A ridiculous collection of hair products, a giant bottle of ice cream sprinkles and a pop tart maker.
What I don't: Rookie Blue. Nope, still not mine. I'm just playing in the sand box, I promise I will return them unharmed soon. Mostly. I'm not making a dime.
Author's Note: So yeah, this happened. I'm fully blaming all of you for being AMAZING! Seriously, I can't even begin to tell you how much all y'all mean to me. The fact that not only do you support my ridiculous little hobby, but you take YOUR precious time to read it and ENCOURAGE ME TO WRITE MORE, just… I'm gobsmacked. I was gonna go a whole other direction with this but that didn't happen because music… and because of the torture I thrust upon all of you yesterday. Janeycakes, master beta extraordinaire, is probably reading this at the same time y'all are because I have the patience of a four year old hopped up on pixie sticks and red bull, so it hasn't been beta'd yet. All mistakes, run ons and the tense that shifts like a fucking shifty thing, are mine. I HOPE this is starting to make a little sense for y'all. I LOVE hearing what you thing. Questions, comments and musical suggestions are welcome with open arms. Reviews make me grin like a movie star and are rewarded with sneak peeks at the next chapter. Y'all are the absolute best.
'I don't dance Andy.' His words were incredulous and the tone dry, 100% pure Sam Swarek.
'Everybody dances Sam that excuse isn't going to fly.'
I didn't give him a choice after that, sliding my arms around his neck and resting my head on his shoulder, swaying softly to the familiar music. He was warm and strong, his closeness seeming to overwhelm my senses and I thought for just a moment of pulling away and heading back out the door, but I couldn't. He was familiar, the spicy scent of his cologne mixed with fabric softener and something that was just inherently him. My smile against his shoulder was genuine as strong arms slid around my waist, holding me loosely, a large hand splayed across my lower back, the warmth seeping through the thin cotton of my shirt, his thumb just barely brushing against the exposed skin between my shirt hem and the waistband of my jeans.
The tiny movement, weather intentional or simply an accident of positioning or a small comfort took me off guard and I stiffened, if only for a moment, my sense immediately heightened. Sam wasn't blind, the man knew me better than I knew myself some days, and his hand immediately moved up just enough that it wouldn't be a problem. It wasn't a problem, not really. I opened my mouth, thinking it over for an instant and closed it again, nearly shocking myself with my ability to keep quiet.
The music played soft and slow as we swayed, just barely, to the familiar song. Aside from the voice coming from the speakers, it was quiet, though far from uncomfortably so, not at all. If it had been anyone else, quite literally, it would have been an entirely different story. There was absolutely no one I felt safer with on this entire planet then the man I was standing with and I allowed my mind to drift.
The things that we had seen today, last week, hell over the last three years were enough to give anyone a complex, and that was just the job. The things that happened when the uniform was off? That was a whole other ballgame.
Everybody had their own ways of dealing with the things that this job, this life brought with us. Oliver had his kids and had, on more than one occasion, especially after a tough call, been known to stop by his house and just check on them, make sure that they were okay, despite the fact that they were all, or at least should have been, asleep. Or so Zoe said, usually with a warning about sleeping on the couch if he woke them. The knowing smile she wore as he passed, though, the way her eyes didn't leave him? Said otherwise.
Tracie and Jerry both spent time with Leo when things got rough, an activity that I had been lucky enough to join in on a time or two. I may not have been mother material, nor had the maternal role model growing up, but sometimes? Ice cream sundaes at midnight was just what the doctor ordered.
Gail and Dov had DeathDomain, insults and margaritas straight from the blender, while Chris found solace in the kitchen, doing god knows what but somehow magic always resulted. That alchemy was far beyond anything in my wheelhouse.
Sometimes though, the means to an end, that crutch that starts out as just a way to deal with a bad day can quickly become a downfall. My dad was a prime example of it. He didn't mean to become an alcoholic, it just started as a once in a while thing, but sometimes, especially when we think that we have the tightest grip on something, it is easiest to not even realize that we are slipping.
I wasn't quite sure what I had, not anymore. Not with the changes that had happened in the last six months, but I was very slowly finding out.
My sigh was soft, muffled against soft cotton as the song drifted off and silence enveloped the room for a moment. My fingers were twisted loosely in the back of his shirt and I released the material with a surprising pang of regret, though neither of us made any attempt to move.
"Not that I'm compl-" I unintentionally cut off his words with a shriek of absolute glee as the next song clicked on. The opening notes immediately caught my attention, as they had since I was a child. I felt my grin as I wriggled out of Sam's arms and bounced over to the radio, turning the volume up a few more notches. Singing significantly louder than I should have been, especially since I could not sing at all, I shimmied ridiculously past Sam and toed off my trainers by the kitchen door. Still bouncing, I grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and deposited them on the coffee table before dancing back over to my unimpressed looking partner, with my hands out.
"No Andy, Not happening." Rolling my eyes, I snagged one of his hands and lifted it over my head, twirling easily under it.
"Yes happening, how can you not sing to this song?" Taking his other hand, I executed what was quite possibly the sloppiest and possibly most embarrassing attempt at dancing I'd ever made, the steps from high school swing classes vaguely coming back to me.
"Do you remember when, we used to sing?" Keeping his hands in mine, I raised them both up and ducked under them again, twisting so my back was against his chest, both of our arms wrapped loosely around my torso as I bounced lightly on the balls of my feet.
"So hard to find my way, now that I'm all on my own, I saw you just the other day, my you have grown." His voice was quiet, and almost reluctant but I could almost hear the smile in his voice as I joined in, off key and horribly pitchy, the familiar words interspersed with giggles on my behalf and low, rumbly chuckles on his.
Again, the song seemed to end far too soon, and I twisted around, grinning brightly up at Sam before dropping his arms and plopping the opposite of gracefully on the couch and handing Sam a bottle of water before uncapping my own and taking a long swig before setting my bare feet in his lap.
The silence stretched on for several minutes, save for Adele crooning softly through the speakers. The choice was, once again surprising, but I didn't question it, instead focusing on the soft melodies as I relaxed.
"So now that you got that out of your system, you wanna tell me what's really going on? Cause I may have been born at night but it wasn't last night. I know you Andy and while there might be something to be said for late night dance parties, and bad days, it's not your usual style. What happened? " Never one to pull punches, I gave a dry laugh and nudged Sam's thigh with my foot, which he quickly caught. "I'm not saying you have to tell me, but it might help." Strong hands kneaded against the sole of my foot with a surprising gentleness and I sighed softly.
He was right, as usual, I knew it and so did he. As much as my little spontaneous stress relief had helped, it was more of a poor coping mechanism than anything else. A pretty distraction for a moment, an easy way to shove aside what really mattered. He didn't pry again, allowing me the time and space that I obviously needed, and he seemed content to just continue gentle pressure on my feet while I sat humming softly and tried to find the words to put my thoughts in order.
It wasn't hard, speaking, not really. Most of the time, I talked way more than I should, finding comfort in the noise. But right now, when it actually mattered? I just couldn't locate the words I needed. I could see them, I knew what they were, but actually stringing them together, these particular words, and speaking them aloud? I couldn't seem to figure out how. I knew that Sam wouldn't judge me, not for an instant, but I was already judging myself. Closing my eyes against the prick of tears that I could already feel, I spoke softly, my voice threatening to break.
"My divorce was finalized today." His hands stilled almost instantly and he stayed quiet, though I could feel his eyes on me. "Goddamnit." The curse was a whisper as I felt a tear slip down my cheek and splash against my chest before I could wipe it away. It was quickly followed by another, and then the damn broke as I bit back a sob.
I shouldn't be upset, I really shouldn't. This was a good thing, a great thing actually. I had moved ahead, finally gotten rid of Preston, in every way. There was nothing left that he could hang over me, not now and not ever again. This was what I had wanted, what I had fought for and it was real now, finalized in black and white. So why did it still hurt?
"C'mere." I didn't need a second invitation and I was across the couch in a flash, tears streaming down my cheeks and dampening Sam's shirt. I wasn't sure where the tears came from or why they had even started, but they wouldn't stop. Curled up on my best friend's lap, I wept. I cried for what I had and for what I had lost. My marriage and the end of it. I cried for the girl that I had once been who lost her mother and for the little girl today that had lost everything. Tears fell for everything and nothing at all, drenching Sam's shirt that was fisted in my hands.
He didn't say anything, not really, aside from some muffled reassurances as he gently rubbed my back, holding me close until I cried myself to sleep.