Author's Note: So, I'm a big liar and I apologize for that. Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out - some of you probably know that I moved recently and started a new job this week, so things have been a little crazy over in casa tikvarn. I will do my best to get the next chapter out in a much more timely manner! That said, I hope you enjoy!
Thanks to rookiebluefan89 and margie311, as always.
Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.
The fourth day into the undercover, Andy starts to get a little bored.
That's not entirely true – she was bored after dropping Sam off that second day, but she's hid it well. Or, at least, she's tried to.
Sam's picked up on how restless she is and tries to make it better; every night he gives her a play by play of his day and lets her pick apart every little detail. She knows he doesn't necessarily enjoy it, notices the barely suppressed eye roll when she asks him to talk her through what Brennan said just one more time, but it keeps her from feeling completely useless. He been extra-patient with her lately, which is surprising because Boyd still hasn't let them turn the cameras off. Every time it's a different excuse – cameras not working, lighting is off, can't hear anything – and Andy's starting to get a little… impatient herself.
Okay, more than a little impatient.
When she told Sam he couldn't turn the cameras off she figured it was going to be one, two nights tops but it's getting to the point that she's trying to work up the nerve to suggest they just book a hotel room. Earlier that morning, when he leaned into the shower and got a good look at everything and then grinned at her with that stupid pleased grin of his she almost blurted it out but, uh – the way he was looking at her was making it difficult to form words.
It's not like it's a whole new thing – there's always been this… tension between them, no matter how much she tried to deny it. The tingle when he touched her back or the way her cheeks flushed when she caught him looking at her – it's always been there, it just seems to be intensified these days. She's pretty sure that every time he looks at her a little more heat pools in her belly and her knees give out just a little more… if something doesn't happen soon she's afraid she might melt right onto the floor.
Andy can't help but feel like they're teetering on the edge of something; they're passed the point they were at a few days ago but they've stalled out – haven't quite tipped over yet. There's still this feeling of unbalance and instability; one false move and things could go either way.
Anyway, ramped up sexual tension aside, Andy's getting bored. So, after chauffeuring Sam to the warehouse, she drives down to a little coffee shop she saw on their route, hoping to find a computer.
There's one tucked away in the back corner, unoccupied, so Andy drops her stuff in the chair and stands in line to get some hot chocolate.
The coffee shop is crowded with students on their laptops, earphones in place and muffled music filtering out, and people in business suits poring over documents with half filled mugs strewn across their tables. Andy quickly studies each face, checking for anyone that might look familiar.
They're out of fifteen's beat, about twenty minutes west of the city, but Andy's senses are heightened anyway – the day she went to the grocery store she stuck her head around every aisle before heading down it, just in case. It's not even necessarily that she's worried about seeing someone she knows, it's just… well, she's not entirely sure she's supposed to be here in the first place. No one laid out guidelines for Internet usage so while she's not directly disobeying orders, she doesn't know if maybe she's indirectly breaking the rules.
And, possibly – a tiny little part of her is hoping she's being followed. It's ridiculous, Brennan barely even knows who she is and if she actually was being followed it would not be a good thing, they're trying for inconspicuous, but this is her first time in deep cover and she just… she thought it would be a little more exciting, that's all. So far the most dangerous thing she's done is merge without using a blinker.
She's so consumed with checking out the place that she doesn't hear when the barista asks what she wants. He clears his throat and tries again, this time with an edge of annoyance that snaps Andy back to reality. Grinning sheepishly, she places her order and, after receiving her drink, she settles back down at the computer.
Boyd provided them with overviews of some of Brennan's old cases and Sam's filled her in on what he remembers about the guy but she still feels like she doesn't really have a grasp on the whole thing. She's gone through the case files a dozen different times, hoping that something new would jump out at her and give her insight but something just doesn't add up – there's such an inconsistency between who he was and who he is.
She pulls up the search engine, types in his name and then scans the hits that she gets. Most of them are pages about his trucking company but there are a couple of new reports about the accident his family was in – she clicks on those and reads through them.
That's something else that's been bugging her – that accident report she saw the first night. It was mostly blank and the parts it that were filled out were riddled with mistakes; neither Boyd nor Sam seemed too concerned about it but it's been on her mind ever since.
The news reports say pretty much what she already knew so she pulls out the index card shoved deep in her pocket and starts searching the names of some of Brennan's alleged victims. The cases are old, some happened over ten years ago, back when she was in high school, but she still gets a significant number of results. Grabbing a napkin, she starts jotting down anything that seems important – anything that she hasn't read before.
Before she realizes it three hours have passed, a large stack of napkins has piled up beside her, the hot chocolate has gone ice cold and there's a middle-aged man eyeing her from across the room. The hair on the back of her neck stands on end (it's totally creepy, she just looked up and saw him staring at her) but then he very pointedly cuts his eyes up to a sign on the wall that she hadn't noticed before – one that says there's a one hour time limit for the computer – and looks back at her, obviously irritated.
Oops.
Andy huffs out a relieved breath, glad the man's not a psycho stalker killer, and offers him a shaky smile before quickly clearing the search history and gathering her things. She heads back to the apartment, eager to transfer the notes she'd taken from napkins onto real paper.
"Hey," she says later, sitting in the car with Sam during his break, "Don't you think it's strange that out of all of Brennan's victims, there's only one woman?"
Truth be told, this is the part of her day that feels most normal; eating lunch in the car with Sam and talking about whatever job they're on. Aside from the fact that she's the one in the driver's seat and neither of them is in uniforms - it's just like any other day.
Not that it's not alarming how easily they're settling into "married" life – she remembers those first few weeks at Luke's and how awkward and uncomfortable everything was. It's different with Sam; she's not constantly worried about interrupting his routine or messing up his stuff. Maybe it's because they've both been dumped into this new environment and the stuff in the cover apartment doesn't really belong to either one of them but for some reason… she doesn't really think that's it.
She finally got him off the couch the night before, convincing him that it was stupid for him to wake up with a massive crick in his neck every morning when they were both adults and could manage to sleep in the same bed while keeping their hands to themselves. Turns out that wasn't entirely true – just as she was drifting off she felt Sam reach out beneath the covers and lace his fingers between hers.
Sam shrugs and pulls a piece of his sandwich off. "Not really," he replies, lifting the bread to his mouth.
"It's just…" Andy keeps talking even though she's pretty sure he's giving her the brush off, "I mean, all the guys that Brennan killed were bad guys – gang members, drug pushers, car thieves… most of them had records longer than his."
"Doesn't make it okay that he tortured 'em," Sam tells her. "Killed 'em for fun."
Well, obviously – that's not what she was getting at. "Yeah, I know," she says, wanting to roll her eyes. Sometimes he treats her like it's her first day all over again. She doesn't think he means to but still – annoying. Setting down her chips, she turns in her seat to face him, leg bent against the console. "I'm just saying…Nora Wilson was a security guard. No record. No ties to criminal activity."
Sam's free hand slips up to her knee, curling around it. That's another thing that's new – how affectionate he is. It's like now that he's got permission to touch her he just does… all the time. Completely casually, too, like he's been doing it his whole life. "And?"
"He shot her in the head," she reminds him, suddenly distracted by the way his thumb brushes the rough denim of her inseam almost absently. "Execution style. No other marks on her body, just a single bullet in the brain."
He tilts his head slowly from side to side, like he's slowly starting to catch on to something. "What're you thinking?"
She hesitates for a second, wondering if maybe she's totally off track, but then poses the question, "Who would you feel more guilty about killing? A scumbag biker or an innocent single mom?"
"The mom," Sam replies easily. "But that's assuming Brennan feels remorseful about what he's done and that's the thing – " he takes a pull for his water bottle and then shakes his head, clearing his throat, "He doesn't."
Andy narrows her eyes skeptically and clasps her hand over his, stopping it's descent down her thigh so she can concentrate. "You don't think that after losing his wife and kid he might feel a little guilty about taking someone's mom from them?" It's not like she's expecting Brennan to cry over the people that he's hurt but surely there's gotta be a little part of him that feels… something. Shame, maybe. Regret.
"Maybe," Sam allows. "But Brennan's not like you and me – you can't just assume that because you'd feel bad something, he'd feel bad about the same thing. Guys like him don't work that way."
"I know that. I just think that if there's one person he's going to break on, it'd be the mom." She straightens her spine and announces, "I think she's the one we should try to get him for."
Sam's quiet for a moment and she watches for the ticks that mean he's thinking it over – the twitch of his jaw, the slight purse of his lips.
"Just hear me out, okay?" she says, gesturing with a carrot stick (Sam's only request from the grocery store – baby carrots). "There are so many differences in the cases that it doesn't even look like he was the one that did it… "
"Oh, he did it," Sam interrupts, "There's witness reports from neighbors that saw his car at her house, he was missing from work the exact time she was killed, her ex used to work for him…"
"It wasn't her ex," Andy jumps in. Sam raises and eyebrow and she clarifies, "They weren't divorced. He died of lung cancer a couple of months before she was killed."
The creases around his eyes deepen and he looks at her, confused. "How'd you know that?"
Damn it. Andy definitely wasn't intending on letting her coffeehouse sleuthing slip just yet. "It's in the report," she lies, knowing that the chances of him actually going back to check are slim to none. "It doesn't matter though," she says, waving her hand, "I know he probably did do it, I'm just saying that there was something different about this one, it didn't follow his usual pattern at all."
"Go on."
"Okay," she takes a deep breath and then continues, "Aside from the obvious – her being a woman and all, all of the other guys went missing for weeks or even months before being found in an abandoned building or at the bottom of the lake or out in the middle of a field somewhere; she was late for work one day and they found her in her bedroom."
Sam nods, "Okay…"
"And he took his time with the other ones, you know, like he enjoyed it or something." A shudder runs through her body just thinking about it, but it's true. "The coroners' reports said he kept some of them alive for days before finally killing them. Hers was a single, quick bullet. No mess, no fuss. Done and done."
"So… what?" he asks. "You think she knew something?"
"She knew something, maybe her husband knew something, who knows?" Andy replies. "I just think there's something there." It's something she's been thinking about all along; how different the cases are and how it had to mean something. It started with the way she was killed and then, after reading news articles about her family, just went from there. "And I think that if we can get him talking about anyone, it'll be her."
The probability of Brennan actually confessing to killing someone is absurdly low, it's more likely that they'll have to build their case from people who know him, but still… they've got to exploit every weakness they can.
Sam's quiet again, tapping his finger against her knee as he sorts it out in his head. "You're probably right," he eventually says.
"I am?" She doesn't mean to sound as surprised as she does but… well, she's surprised. As right as she thinks she is, she expected to have to sell her case a little more.
"Yeah. Guys like Brennan – they follow a pattern. If something deviates from that there's gotta be a reason."
She can't help but smile, feeling proud. Like she's actually contributed something to this little operation.
Sam smirks back at her but not in an unfriendly way – more like he's amused. That look he gets when she's not quite the hair-brained rookie he expects her to be. "Proud of yourself?"
Andy's shoulders bounce up and down. "Maybe," she replies impishly, still grinning.
Sam laughs and leans across the console – the hand that was on her knee works it's way up into her hair, tugging gently and murmuring as he gets closer, "You're quite the undercover detective."
"Hey," she says, dodging his lips. He's flirting, she knows he is, but there's teasing and then there's insulting and he's bumping right up against the latter. "Don't patronize me."
"I'm not," he responds immediately, tipping his head back. His eyebrows draw together and his eyes darken, like he's truly upset she'd think that. "I promise, I'm not. It's good work."
Andy eyes him for a second, hesitant, but then cautiously raises her hand to his face and swipes her thumb over his bottom lip a couple of times, watching him watch her.
It's possible she's being a little sensitive – there are reasons that training officers and rookies aren't supposed to be together, not the least of which is this insane, ingrained desire to please. Even though they've somewhat gotten passed that when they're in uniform… this is entirely different. The power dynamic has shifted again.
But – with the way Sam's looking at her – it's possible he's not on top.
She's strangely comforted by the thought… the idea that neither of them is on totally solid footing here.
Finally she leans in, presses her lips to his. Sam is slow to respond, mouth moving like molasses and drawing it out a little. She's still caught off guard by how intense this always is, even these chaste kisses in the car that always leave her wanting more. With Luke they'd gotten to the point of familiarity where things were just done out of habit; the spark had been replaced with comfort and routine. It wasn't a bad thing, necessarily…
Or maybe it was, considering how things turned out.
Andy quickly pushes that unpleasant thought out of her mind, goes back to thinking about Sam.
That spark is, uh… definitely still there.
After a minute his hand threads deeper into her hair and his thumb rubs at her ear, hitting a ticklish spot, making her laugh right against him.
The tension is broken and she can feel Sam's lips curl into a smile. He rubs the same spot again and when she tries to duck away he holds her still, kissing her once more before pulling back. "You talked to Boyd yet?" he asks, trying for nonchalance.
Andy knows exactly what he's getting at though. "You mean has he said we can turn the cameras off?" Sam just raises his eyebrow, answering her without having to say anything. She grins and shakes her head, "No, not yet."
He lets outs out a frustrated groan and drops his head back against the headrest. "I swear he's doing it on purpose," he says, scrubbing his hand through his hair so it stands up in all different directions. Thankfully he left the gel at home this time.
She snorts out a laugh – "Oh yeah?" she asks, righting herself in her seat. "You think he's cock-blocking you or something?"
"I think that's exactly what he's doing," Sam responds, brow arched and daring her to argue with him. "Son of a bitch is probably laughing about it right now."
Andy rolls her eyes at that but… a little part of her kind of thinks he might be right. "Break almost over?"
Sam flicks his wrist to check his watch and heaves a sigh. "Yeah, I gotta go," he tells her, reaching for an unopened bag of chips to save for later. "I don't know what time I'll be done here so I'll just take the bus."
"'Kay," Andy replies, instinctively leaning in when he goes for a kiss. It's a JD and Candace thing, the goodbye kiss. "See you later. Be careful."
Be careful? It keeps slipping out without her really thinking about it. He made fun of her the first time she said it but whatever – she's pretty sure he likes hearing it, can see he grin he tries to hide.
Plus… well, she really does want him to be careful. She's imagined a couple of "what if" scenarios and then had to purposefully stop her mind from going there because she was giving herself nightmares.
Sam winks at her as he pushes himself out of the car. "You, too. See ya."
When there's a knock at the door later that afternoon Andy reluctantly drags herself down the stairs, assuming it's going to be Boyd.
It's not Boyd – when she throws the door open and sees Jamie Brennan standing there she freezes for a second, completely caught off guard and seized with panic.
She's seen him walking across the parking lot a couple of times now, has even gotten a wave from him before, but seeing him standing there in the flesh – silver blonde hair catching the sun and blue eyes that are striking close up – well, apparently it makes her lose the power of speech. Her blood has gone ice cold in her veins and her mouth is bone dry but somehow she manages to choke out, "Hi… uh, hello." Perfect.
Brennan smiles brightly and extends his hand. "Candace, right? I'm Jamie Brennan."
"Right, JD's boss," she says, shaking his hand and trying not to appear flustered. When she gets her hand back she pushes her bangs out of her face, giving herself a little pep talk. You can do this. "It's nice to meet you."
"You, too," he replies, completely smooth and charming, white teeth glistening. For half a second she thinks that he's handsome – then she remembers what he's done. "I was just dropping by to check the address JD gave."
"A boss that makes house calls?" Andy half asks, tilting her head to the side and grinning like she's confused. "That's unusual."
"I just like to know who's working for me," he says, leaning in a bit as if he's telling her a secret. "Can never be to sure these days."
The irony of that statement hits her hard and she has to force a laugh, keeping her grin in place. "Right, yeah, of course," she replies, running a shaky hand through her hair. "Do you, um… do you want to come up? I can put some coffee on," she tells him. "Answer any questions you might have."
Here's what she remembers as soon as the offer comes out of her mouth: there are files upstairs. Opened files, scattered all over the dining room table. Files about him.
Blood pounds in her ears as she mentally crosses her fingers, hoping that he'll decline and tell her it's fine and that he should be going. He doesn't do that. "That'd be great," he says, taking a step forward.
So, that's how she and Brennan end up upstairs in JD and Candace's apartment, alone and with documents that could blow the entire operation, not to mention endanger her life, spread out fifteen feet away from them.
Her heart beats rapidly in her chest, this thump thump thump that's so loud she's sure he can hear it, and as she watches him slide his coat off she tries to keep her eyes from bouncing over to the table, wondering how she's going to get to them before Brennan sees.
"Can I take that for you?" she asks, reaching for his coat. Her voice, given the circumstances, is remarkably steady. The opened manila folders are like a fire burning in her peripheral vision.
Brennan hands it over with a polite, "Thank you." He doesn't seem to notice the mess of papers on the table – he's more distracted by glancing around at the apartment, taking everything in with his sharp, perceptive eyes.
Andy finds herself wishing that Sam was there; he would know what to do and what to say and it would be so much easier just to be able to follow his lead. As it is she's got to make do. Trust her training. Trust herself.
She hopes to God that the cameras are actually working and that Boyd, who should be watching the feed, really has been screwing with them the whole time.
To Brennan, she just smiles and then walks to the table, folding his coat over one of the chairs. He's over in the living room and not paying any attention to what she's doing so, as discretely as possible, she begins gathering the files. "Sorry about the mess," she says, straightening everything into a neat a little stack and then picking it up, hugging it tightly to her chest. "My dad passed away a couple of months ago and I'm still trying to get everything organized."
Sam's filled her in on his initial conversation with Brennan and the reason he gave for them moving from St. Catherine's; they've gone over it a dozen different times but she's still worried she's gonna get a little detail wrong and tip Brennan off.
Brennan stops his not so subtle snooping to turn and face her. His forehead wrinkles as he watches her deposit the files into a plastic storage container beside the bed. "JD told me about your father," he replies, wringing his hat in his hands. "I'm sorry to hear about that."
Andy shrugs and stands back up to her full height. "Thanks," she says, kicking the container under the bed so that it, and all of its contents, are safely tucked away. "I miss him, of course, but it was a long time coming and he was really sick so…" she smiles sadly, trying not to think of what it would actually be like if her father… "At least he's not in pain anymore."
Brennan nods and his expression is completely blank; gone is the charm she saw out on the sidewalk. "At least there's that."
She wants to get him talking about the accident – the whole point in bringing up Candace's dad was to try and make that connection with him. "Um… I hope you don't mind me saying this but, uh, " she pulls on her most sincere expression (its not hard to fake – she actually does feel bad for the man, as idiotic as Sam thinks that is) and continues cautiously, "JD mentioned that you lost your wife recently. I'm sorry."
He blinks and stares at her, mouth gaped like he's at a loss for words. "Car accident," he finally says, blue eyes going dark and stormy. "My little girl, too."
It's definitely not difficult to fake sympathy for that. "I'm so sorry," she repeats quietly, shaking her head. "I can't even… I can't even imagine." She can imagine, actually – she remembers how scared she was when Luke was shot, how for one terrifying minute she thought he was gone. It's not exactly the same but… she can imagine.
Now, if it'd been Sam that had been shot… Andy swallows hard and stops herself from going there. And really, it's way too early for the hot lump that rose in her throat just thinking about it.
A dark look flickers across Brennan's features – this raw, honest peek into his pain and for a moment Andy genuinely feels sorry for him. She tries to remember everything she's read about him and everything Sam's told her. Reminds herself that he's a bad guy. She can't think of him as a widower and as a father who lost his child – she has to keep herself detached, as difficult as it may be.
He wipes his hand over his face and the look is gone, replaced by that blank expression from earlier. "How's that coffee coming along?" he asks, nodding over to the kitchen. His voice sounds rough but he laughs a little at the end, lightening things up.
Andy smiles and heads over to the little kitchen. "Make yourself comfortable," she says, waving towards the sofa. "It'll be just a minute."
She gets the coffee ready and when she stirs in the cream she realizes her hands are no longer shaking. Plastering on her best hostess smile, she takes a mug in both hands and walks over to join him.
Andy's waiting for him when he gets home, has been anxiously pacing the hardwood floor since the clock switched over to seven o'clock. Even before that she was restless; scrubbing non-existent spots off the kitchen counter and sweeping imaginary dust from the floor. Every once and a while she peeks down the stairs, like maybe he'll just appear out of thin air. When the door finally does creak open, she rushes over and then practically flies down the steps, jumping him before he's even had the chance to turn all the way around.
Sam catches her anyway, letting out an exaggerated "hmmph" at the sudden weight and chuckling as he takes a step back to steady them. His hands immediately curl up under her thighs, helping her get her legs around his waist, and she circles her arms behind his neck, bringing them close enough to bump noses.
It's only after she does it that she realizes there wasn't even a moment of hesitation on her part; she just kind of launched herself at him, expecting him to be there, sure and sturdy like he always was.
"Hi," she says, right before she dips her head and leans in to kiss him. Sam's response gets lost between them, but she can feel his grin against her, this feather-light touch of lips before he gets more serious, nipping at her bottom lip until she opens up. They kiss like that for a few minutes, right on the tiny landing just inside the apartment where there aren't any cameras, her wrapped tight around him.
Eventually Sam spins and walks her backwards, hand cupping her head so it doesn't crack against the wall when he pushes her back. Balanced between the firm wall behind her and Sam's solid body in front of her, Andy loosens her arms and lets her hands fall down his chest, pulling the zipper of his jacket down with her. When they break apart, Andy blinks a couple of times and then looks up at him from under her eyelashes. "How was your day?"
He's got this uneasy grin on his face, like he has no idea what in the hell is going on. "It was fine," he says slowly, palm smoothing over the back pocket of her jeans. She pushes her hips forward so he can slip his hand inside, tipping her chin up for another kiss. He complies, kissing her quickly, and then, sounding like he can't wait any longer but still a little afraid of what her answer might be, he asks, "How was yours?"
Andy really doesn't even know how to answer that; she's on a high not quite like anything she's ever felt before. "It was…" she pauses, deliberating, but then settles on, "Eventful. I'll tell you all about it later but first – " he still hasn't set her down and her hips are open right up against him; experimentally, she rolls them up and when his breath hitches she offers a wicked grin, "Good news."
"What's that?" Sam asks, arching an eyebrow.
"I talked to Boyd today," she tells him – and then she stops because really… how is she supposed to finish that sentence? Guess what? We can have sex now, Our handler gave us permission.
Sam's face brightens though, so she thinks she probably won't have to explain anything further. "Yeah?" he says, voice loaded with suggestion and strong fingers gripping her thigh. The corner of his mouth twitches up when he asks, "What'd he say?"
Andy just smiles and plays with the hair at the nape of his neck, threading the soft strands between her fingers. She nods almost imperceptibly and they stare at each other for a beat, like they're making sure they both know what's going in. Sam huffs out a quiet laugh and then she feels his whole body just sort of… melt into hers, warm heat between her legs and chest flush against hers. He goes to kiss her again; careful at first but then longer and slower, drawing it out like he wants to take his time.
And that's… nice, it is. It's more than nice, actually, the way his lips move against hers and the prick of his stubble against of her hand but –
She's been waiting for him to get home for a while, is the thing. "Sam – " he chooses that exact moment to start paying attention to her neck so it comes out in a whimper that gets muffled by his thick hair.
He hears her though, murmurs back, "Mmmhmm?"
The sound vibrates through her body and Andy lets her head drop back against the wall with a thud, squeezes her eyes shut and her legs tighter around him, pulling him impossibly closer – in response, he pants against her skin.
He doesn't seem to be understanding what she's getting at which is… odd. Normally he's so in tuned with her that it's a little scary – knows exactly what she's thinking and what she's about to do – but right now, when she really needs him to get it he just… keeps going, keeps her pinned against the wall and keeps planting these hot, wet kisses along her collarbone.
"Sam… " she tries again, all breathy and embarrassing, and she swears she can feel him smile as his finger hooks into the neckline of her t-shirt and pulls it to the side, latches his lips onto the skin he revealed.
"Yes?" he voice is light and teasing – this tone like he can't wait to hear what she's going say.
So. It's possible he does understand what she's getting at and is just ignoring it in favor of – she doesn't even know. Driving her crazy, possibly. Her hips are starting to move on their own accord, clenching and jerking forward every time he presses into her. Sam hums, pleased.
Andy laughs sort of helplessly as he moves back up to her face, peppering her cheeks with kisses before returning to her lips. "Come on," she says, hands on his broad shoulders and nudging him backwards. He's like a brick wall though, going nowhere fast.
"You want to move this somewhere else, McNally?" He's looking right at her now, eyes dancing with amusement. "Just say the word."
Just… God. The man is infuriating sometimes – they had a moment back there, okay? She's pretty sure he knows exactly what she wants but he's just… stubborn, he's stubborn. Smug and stubborn.
Well, two can play that game.
Andy narrows her eyes and then watches him as her hand trails all the way down the front of him and wedges between them, palming him through his jeans. His whole body jumps when she touches him but he keeps his eyes trained on hers, biting his cheeks against a grin. Andy tightens her grip, just barely, and he sucks in a breath. "Okay, okay…" he tells her, grinning fully as he pulls her hand up and away, wrapping it back around his neck. He nods towards the door. "Are they off yet?"
"Not yet." She shakes her head and then grins, "I didn't want to be like... super presumptuous or anything."
"Presumptuous?"
"Well you know, you could be too tired or something," she tells him, patting his shoulder with faux-sympathy. "You have had a long day at work."
"I think I can summon the energy," he assures her, mimicking her tone of mock sincerity. His brown eyes darken though, giving his words an edge. "What do you think?"
Andy pulls her lip between her teeth, like she's having to really give it some thought, but then she wiggles her hips and winks at him. "Yeah, I think you're uh… up for it."
Sam laughs, deep and hearty, and a second later his hands are up under her thighs again, holding her against him as he spins them around and deposits her on the bottom step. "Wait here," he demands, ducking outside to where the control box is.
When he opens the door a freezing blast of air hits her, making her shiver. She runs her hands up and down her bare arms and in that moment a bout of nerves hits her, the realization of what's about to happen.
Sam's back in less than ten seconds though, before she can think too much about it, warm body plastered against hers, warding off the chill. She laughs as he lifts her in a big bear hug and half carries her up to the loft - her feet hit each one of the steps but she's moving in a blur without any effort at all. She'd tease him about it, make some crack about being eager about something, but her mouth is, um… otherwise occupied.
When they hit the top of the staircase he bends down and picks her up properly, lips never leaving hers. Andy locks her ankles behind his back and giggles all the way over to the bed; this stupid, nervous laugh that she can't seem to stop. Somehow she gets his jacket off, letting it drop to the ground somewhere near the table.
"You were right, you know," she blurts out, just as he's lowering her down onto the bed. Her back hits the mattress and she pulls him down with her, widening her legs to make room as he crawls up between them. She remembers this from the blackout – how well they fit together.
"'Bout what?" he asks distractedly, up on his knees and raising his arms so she can slide his shirt off of him.
She flings the thermal to the side and takes a second to let her hands wander up the muscles of his chest and through the sprinkle of hair that covers it – suddenly she regrets even bringing it up. Another nervous habit – rambling at the most inappropriate times. "'Bout Boyd," she finally answers, tugging him back down in top of her. "I think he was doing it on purpose."
He shifts his weight onto one elbow and starts to push her shirt up. "Why's that?" He's still not paying total attention to her – well, heis paying attention to her, just not what she's saying. His head's between her breasts and she can feel his lips and teeth against her skin, kissing and nibbling a line down her body. He brushes over the cup of her bra and she can't see him, her shirt's bunched up and blocking her view, but she feels him push the material down start to circle his thumb around –
Her words come out in a breathless rush, hoping she can just get it out there and they can move on. "Well, Brennan dropped by today and he called like, five seconds after he left. How else would he have known if he hadn't been watching?"
Sam whole body stills; hips, fingers, mouth…everything just stops for a long beat. "Brennan was here?" he finally asks, as if she might as well have said he was on the moon.
Andy nods. "Yeah."
"Up here, in the apartment?" He waves his hand around just in case she's not sure what apartment he's talking about.
She nods again, trying not to get annoyed. "Yes. This apartment."
When he brings his hand back down he shoves himself up into a pushup position above her, hovering but not touching. Andy whimpers a little pathetically at the loss of contact but he doesn't seem to notice. "Alone, with you?" he clarifies once again.
"Yes, Sam," she says, arching up against him. "Come on, we can talk about it later."
He doesn't take the bait though - grabs her wrist when she reaches down to work the buttons on his jeans and pins it up by her head. Andy lets out and annoyed sigh. "McNally," he says, without an ounce of amusement, "When were you planning to tell me about it?"
She huffs a breath out of her nose. "I don't know, later. Kinda had other things on my mind," she tells him, rocking her hips up to make her point.
Sam's chest expands with a sharp inhale and he closes his eyes for a moment, like he's fighting to keep it together. When he opens them a minute later they're still dark and intense like they were earlier but there's something else, something that wasn't there before.
"Are you…" she holds his gaze, eyes narrowing quizzically as she tries to read his expression. "Are you mad at me?"
Sam doesn't answer her. "Just – tell me what happened."
At this point she can't be sure if he's mad at her or if he's just upset she didn't tell what happened as soon as he got home. Thinking that there's still a slim (very slim) chance to put this behind them, she takes a deep breath and tries to explain as calmly as possible – "He came by around three and said he was just checking up on the address you gave him. I made some coffee, we sat and talked for about ten minutes and then he left. It was totally fine and obviously," she gestures between then, "We're both still alive, so I don't really understand what the issue is here."
He doesn't seem too interested in letting it go though. "What'd you talk about?"
Since he's still hovering right above her and because she's feeling fidgety and really needs to do something with her hands, she reaches up and threads her fingers through his hair, scratching her nails against his scalp. He doesn't make her stop so – that's progress. "We talked a little bit about Candace's dad and then a little about his family…"
"What about his family?
"Just that they died in a car accident and then we moved on. He asked how we were liking Toronto and how the job was going for you and that was it. We finished our coffee and then he left. I swear, aside from like… finally meeting him, it was drama free." Well, except for the part when she had the whole case spread out all over the table, but he didn't need to know about that.
He chews on his lip and his brow furrows slightly, like he's still putting all the pieces together. "Did he invite himself up or did you invite him up?"
"Well… I mean, I guess I was the one that invited him up…" Sam snorts and starts pushing himself up and off the bed, shaking his head. And that just… well, that pisses her off. Mood officially ruined, she yanks her shirt back down and sits up. "What is your problem?"
"My problem is that you still don't think sometimes, McNally," he tells her, first gesturing to himself and then throwing his arms out dramatically.
Andy gets to her feet because there's no way she's going to sit there and let him yell at her. "Excuse me?"
"Two years on the job and you're inviting murderers up for coffee." He spits it out like it's just truly the stupidest thing she's ever done.
"I was doing my job, Sam," she claims, on the defensive. They're in a faceoff now, sort of circling each other. "And it's not like I was alone with him without any back up; the cameras were on, not to mention the gun…."
"For all you knew the cameras weren't working," Sam points out. "That's what we've been told this whole week."
What? He was the one grumbling the whole time about how he thought Boyd was just messing with them. "Well, that's really convenient for you to say now…"
"And even if they were working, Boyd's probably got some rookie who drew the short straw watching the feed. You're lucky the kid wasn't on a bathroom break?"
"Lucky?" she repeats, honestly bewildered. Not only is the suggestion ridiculous, it's insulting. "Somehow the fact that I stayed in character, established a connection with Brennan, got him talking and managed to not get myself killed in the process is all a matter of luck?"
She may as well be talking to a wall because Sam doesn't seem to be processing a single thing she's trying to get through to him. "What if something had happened and no one noticed?" he says. "What if he'd taken you or…"
Andy cuts him off, "Nothing happened and at some point Boyd was watching the feed because he called me as soon as Brennan left and, you know what? He told me I did a good job, so…"
"Of course he told you that you did a good job," he all but yells, his whole body lurching forward, "All he cares about is getting Brennan in prison."
"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm trying to do here…"
"No, you don't get it… if Boyd could get Brennan for killing you, he'd be just as happy as he would be for getting him on any of the other ones. Happier, even, since you're a cop."
As much as Andy hates Boyd, she thinks Sam is definitely reaching with that one. "Okay," she says, holding her hands up, "I think that's a little much."
He ignores her protests, preferring instead to continue his ranting. "You run head first into these dangerous situations – "
Andy scoffs. "I'm a cop, Sam," she tells him, hand in the center of her chest and leaning towards him. "And guess what? It's dangerous. It's dangerous for you, it's dangerous for me, it's dangerous for every single…"
Sam steps right into her personal space, close enough that his folded arms bump into hers. "Yeah, it's dangerous enough without you taking unnecessary risks."
"Explain to me how it was an unnecessary risk?" she asks, holding her ground. The couple of inches he has on her plus how close he's standing makes it so that she has to look up to keep eye contact. "We're supposed to be getting to know him, right? Getting him to like us?" She sweeps her hands out when she asks – "How was that supposed to happen if I just left him standing out in the cold?"
"You can be polite and not invite him up here with you," Sam tells her slowly, like he's having to explain to a five year old that the stove is hot. "I swear to god, Andy, sometimes it's like you want to get yourself killed."
Andy rolls her eyes up to the ceiling. "You're being totally irrational about this."
"Somehow I'm not surprised you think that."
"Why's that?" she snaps.
"Well rational thinking obviously isn't your forte, McNally," he tells her. "At least when it comes to things like, I don't know… staying alive."
Oh, for Christ's sake, the man can be so overly dramatic he should win an award. "So you're saying that if you were here, you wouldn't have done the exact same thing? If I hadn't come with you, you'd never be alone with the guy?"
"That's different," he claims.
It's exactly the answer she was expecting, but she snorts anyway, incredulous. "How the hell is that any different?"
"Well, I've been doing this a little longer than you have, sweetheart." The way he says it – it's not an endearment. It's like the first time they worked together, Sweetheart, you're not my type, except more of a mean sneer.
Andy sneers right back at him. "First of all, jackass," Probably it's not the best time for name calling, but she can't help it – he's being one and it just slipped right out of her mouth, "Don't call me that and second – what happened to trusting me? Trusting my instincts? Or is that only true if you're around to look after me?"
"Yeah, it is," he says, hands going to his hips and chest puffing out. "And you know what? If you didn't get into some pretty stupid shit when I'm not around then maybe that wouldn't be the case."
"Give me one example…" she doesn't even finish her sentence before he starts ticking 'em off on his fingers.
"You want to start at the beginning? Coming to Anton Hill's restaurant when I specifically told you to stay at the barn."
"Oh, yeah, I'm sorry I saved your life…" she throws back, sarcasm dripping off her tongue.
Sam continues, two fingers down, "Risking a civilian's life because you screwed up a john sweep."
"Okay, that's not exactly what hap…"
He's on a roll though, doesn't even seem to hear her. "Ray Donald Swann."
He is absolutely livid now, like he's remembering how it all went down and yeah, that one was a huge screw up. But still – "Seriously? I was a rookie Sam, remember that? You were still training me!"
"I've got news for you McNally, you're still a rookie," he says, pointing at her. His finger taps against her breastbone, the same spot that five minutes earlier he sucked a nice little mark on. "And the way you let Swann play you? How he got you to feel sorry for him and then took advantage of that? Brennan's gonna do the same damn thing and you're just gonna let him."
"No, I'm not," Andy insists, slapping his hand away. "I know I've screwed up in the past, okay? I know that. But it's not like that anymore…"
He butts in. "Oh, so… you want some recent examples? Is that it? Okay… running into a burning building, uh, uh…" he stutters around, like he's so furious with her he can't even think straight, "The storage locker…"
"You wanna talk about the storage locker?" Her eyebrows shoot up. "Fine, let's talk about how you stormed off and left me alone." Sam visibly recoils at but instead of stopping her, it only adds fuel to the fire, "Yeah, let's talk about that. You've given a pretty thorough run down of all my mistakes so let's talk about the fact that you spout off all this back your partner up crap but when I actually needed you to do that for me, you walked away."
"Well, I was a little pissed off, Andy – "
Anger is seriously like… radiating off of him, the vein in his neck is pulsing and all of his muscles are tight. Shee's only seen him like this a few times (all of which, incidentally, coincided with some of the events he just rattled off) but as angry as he is, she's right there with him – face flushed and heart pounding.
"What right did you have to be pissed off?" she asks, pushing against his shoulders so he'll get out of her space. "I was the one that got cheated on, I was the one whose fiancé slept with someone else… I was the one that was trying be professional and trying to maintain just a shred of self-respect and you were the one that couldn't handle it."
Sam's jaw tightens and she can tell he's biting the inside of his cheek, like maybe he's trying to keep himself from saying something he'll regret. And maybe it was a cheap shot. She knows, okay? She knows he feels guilty about it and knows he blames himself, but at that moment? She doesn't really care.
All of a sudden it's too much for her. Maybe it's the reminder of Luke and that whole crappy situation or maybe it's just how incredibly hurt she is by Sam's obvious distrust, but her chest tightens and her eyes are burning and she just really, really needs to get out of there.
"Maybe… " she starts walking over stairs, shaking her head. "Maybe I just shouldn't have come with you. Maybe this," she waves her hand between them and then shrugs, all the fight gone out of her, "Was a bad idea."
Sam's following with her his eyes, watching closely. "Andy," he starts, shoulders slumped and looking totally defeated, "That's not…"
"No, it's okay," she says quickly, pulling on her boots. She's really trying hard not to lose it here, and already her vision's getting a little blurry and her voice is starting to shake. Breaking down in front of him is pretty much the last thing she wants to do. "I'm just… I'm gonna go. I'll be back."
Sam looks like he wants to argue with her but to his credit – he doesn't. "Where are you going?" he demands quietly.
"Taking a page out of your book," she shoots back, fixing him with a glare as she shrugs her coat on. "I'm going for a walk."
He eyes her carefully as she wraps a scarf around her neck and pulls on her mittens, looking like he's debating with himself about something. In the end he doesn't try to stop her, watching silently from the top of the staircase as she pushes the door open and steps out into the cold.