A/N I think most of you have probably seen the A/N in my recently published one-shot, Talk. So I won't repeat myself here. Except to apologize for this story falling by the wayside the past many months. Hopefully those of you that were enjoying it before will give it another chance and continue to read. xoxoxo mustlovecat

"Hey, Liam. Can I get two, um – Actually, I'll just take that bottle right there," Andy said, pointing to a full bottle of well-aged scotch collecting dust on a shelf behind the bar.

Liam raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

She looked back over her shoulder to where her fiancé was sitting at a table in the corner, the tension just radiating off of his body in waves. Turning back to the bartender, she nodded resolutely. "I'm sure." So it would be the single-highest tab she had ever amassed at The Penny. Tonight she supposed it was worth it.

He retrieved the bottle and a couple glasses and handed everything to Andy.

She headed back over to the table and set everything down in front of Sam before taking a seat next to him.

Sam chuckled. "Trying to get me drunk, McNally?"

"Yep. Then I'm going to take you home and let you have your way with me," she promised with an easy grin.

At that, he shook his head and could not help the smirk that was there before it wasn't. "Well, there's that." He poured them each a glass of the scotch and handed one glass of amber liquid to his fiancée.

"I think we should have a toast," she said.

"To what? To letting Anton Hill slip through my fingers a second time in less than two years?"

"Babe, we've got him. Dead to rights. We might not have him in a cell right now, but as soon as he resurfaces –"

"He's gone, Andy. He won't be coming back just so we can slap a pair of cuffs on his wrists."

"Then he'll be spending the rest of his life looking over his shoulder and in the meantime, he's off our streets. I know it's not –" When he scoffed, she reached over and cupped his jaw, forcing him to look at her. "I know it's not how you wanted things to play out. Me, neither. But Sam, it's something."

He reached up and took her hand in his to remove it from his face so he could drink, but instead the alcohol was momentarily forgotten as he took in the rock now adorning her third finger. "You're wearing your ring."

"Yeah, I am. Because I'm proud to be your fiancée and I'm not going to let some bad guy – who, by the way, is nothing but a coward – rule our life anymore."

He offered a small smile at that then picked up his glass and knocked back a swig of the alcohol. "You've got a point, McNally."

Andy bit her lip, tapping her fingers against the table while he drank down most of his glass, leaving her own untouched. As she watched him, her mind spun at a frenzied pace, yet her thoughts were not jumbled but strangely coherent. "Let's get married," she finally blurted out when she saw his jaw starting to clench a little at the continuous drumming of her fingers.

Sam coughed, choking on the sip of scotch he had just taken. "What?"

"Let's just do it. I mean, Sam, what are we waiting for? We're not exactly, you know, traditional, white-wedding-in-a-church kind of people."

"Hey, now, I did get down on one knee when I proposed," he cut in. "Fully dressed, I might add. Well, almost."

She looked at him pointedly.

"Okay, okay. But Andy, I'm not just taking you down to City Hall. You deserve better than that," he argued.

"Sam, I – I don't care about the wedding. I care about what comes after. Look, you took someone with huge – I'm talking ginormous and yes, I realize that's not really a word – abandonment issues and made me realize that something good can come from sharing yourself and your life with another person. I trust you more than I've ever trusted anyone, and I love you like this ridiculous, crazy amount. You've always taught me to trust my gut and what it's telling me is that I want to be your wife." She reached over and took the glass from him and set it down on the table, then took a firm hold of his gun-calloused hand in hers. "I know that you think today was a checkmark on the side of the bad guys, but I don't. But even if that's the case – I saw what happened to my dad when he made his life the uniform and the bad cases and the bad asses that he couldn't take down . And I'm not – I'm not willing to do that, and I'm sure as hell not willing to stand by and watch you do it, either. We have a chance at a life, Sam. A really great life. And we almost didn't get it. So I don't see why we should –"

"Hey, look who finally decided to grace us lowly foot patrollers with their presence!" Oliver's voice boomed over the thin late-afternoon crowd as he and Noelle headed over to the table.

Andy blew out a breath and looked up as Jerry and Traci followed.

Sam squeezed Andy's hand then offered a nod at their friends. "We're here."

Jerry raised his eyebrows at the bottle of scotch. "You sharing?"

"Sure," Andy sighed, getting up and heading over to the bar to get some more glasses.

"What'd I say?" Barber asked innocently, picking up on her slightly put-upon mood.

Sam just shook his head, his eyes following his fiancée's every step. Let's get married indeed.

"The news is all over Division. Hill skipped town?" Traci asked incredulously.

"Something like that." He turned his gaze back to them, but his mind was replaying Andy's words on constant repeat. He supposed he should have known better than to bring her to The Penny if he wanted a party for two.

"Well, at least now you guys will be back where you belong – in uniform at Fifteen. S'bout time," Shaw teased his best friend.

Andy returned to the table with four more glasses and slumped down next to Sam. She tuned everyone out as he filled their friends in on everything that had happened – from figuring out Cassie's involvement to the flash drive and the safety deposit box to the bust that wasn't when they turned up at Hill's condo with an entire team only to find him disappeared. She felt a little put off, unsure if she should take her fiancé's sudden animation as he relayed the events of the past couple days as a hint that her proposal was not something he even wanted to consider. Who was she kidding? She had practically made him propose. She had been the one to suggest they set a date. And she had been the one to say to hell with everything, let's get married now. Sam had her under his roof with a ring on her finger. He probably already had everything he wanted.

She finally excused herself and disappeared back to the ladies' room. Her intention had been to cheer up her fiancé, not push him down the aisle, and now she felt like she had made a fool of herself. He probably thought she needed to be medicated – what, the woman who had hyperventilated in the locker room before their first date practically begging him to marry her only a few months later. This was way past offering sex to soothe a bad day. This was like –

"Overthinking again, McNally?"

Andy jumped a little as she exited the restroom to find Sam leaning back against the wall in the tight corridor, one knee bent and his foot pressed back against the wall, his arms crossed as if he had all the time in the world. "Oh. Hey. Um…"

"City Hall will be closed by the time we get through downtown traffic. But if we leave now, I'm sure there's a wedding chapel or two in Niagara Falls still looking to make a quick buck. I mean, I'm pretty sure it'll be more than a buck, those places probably charge for every little thing, but I'd say you're worth it," he said with a flash of his dimples.

Her jaw was hanging somewhere between her knees and the floor and she stared at him with wide eyes for a moment before she could even find her voice. "Wh-what?"

"You said let's get married. So let's get married," he shrugged, the nonchalance in his demeanour absolutely nothing compared to the butterflies dancing around in his stomach. Thank God for years of undercover. But his nerves were not the result of doubts or fear – well, unless those doubts and fears were that she had been kidding earlier and he was now making a complete ass of himself.

"Sam, I…"

"Unless you've changed your mind?"

"No, but – Wait, how drunk are you?"

He looked at her in amusement. "You think I knocked back the rest of the bottle in the time it took you to go to the bathroom? Andy, I had the one drink. And by the way, I appreciate the gesture and everything, but you know that bottle probably cost a week's pay? That's seriously going to cut into the honeymoon budget right there."

"Sam…" She was gobsmacked. The woman allergic to silence had absolutely no idea what to say.

Sam stepped closer, backing her into the opposite wall and leaving her no room to escape. He braced his hands on either side of her. "Andy McNally, will you do me the honour of marrying me?" he asked, his voice low.

"You're serious." A statement, not a question. Because she knew him, and his eyes were dark and intent, the tone of his voice reminding her of Sam the T.O.

"I'm serious. You're right, sweetheart. We have a chance at a great life and there's absolutely no reason to wait. So let's go get married. To hell with Anton Hill. He's robbed us of enough time and energy, and he damn near robbed me of you. And you were right about something else: He didn't win today. 'Cause I've still got you and you're gonna marry me tonight."

She found herself nodding before her brain could even really process everything.

"So, yeah?"

"Yeah. Yes!" A bright smile on her face, she leaned up and kissed him hard.

He grinned at her when they came apart, though neither made a move to put any distance between themselves.

She hooked her fingers in the belt loops of his jeans. "You realize you just said I was right? Twice?" she teased him.

He brushed his nose against hers. "That's what you got out of that, huh?" he countered. "'Cause I was kind of laying it all out there."

"Uh-huh. That and that you want to marry me really, really bad."

"Hmm." He kissed her again, this time languid and deep, enough to elicit a moan from her.

"Or we could, um – You know, just go home and go with Plan A."

"Was that where I got to take you home and have my way with you?"

"Yep."

He pretended to consider for a moment before he leaned down and nuzzled her neck. "I like Plan B. But I'm completely good with following it with Plan A. Marry me."

The vibration of his voice against her pulse point nearly turned her to mush. She probably would have said yes to anything he suggested in that moment. However, him telling her he really wanted to marry her – nothing would ever sound so good. She reached up and raked her fingers through his hair. "Okay."

"Okay." He kissed her quickly, then finally pulled himself away. "Now, how do you suggest we get out of here?"

Her gaze moved sideways into the bar where Jerry, Traci, Noelle and Oliver were still gathered around their table, knocking back their very nice bottle of scotch. "Oh. Right." She bit her lip at his quirked eyebrow. "Um – You know, Sam, I think the stress of all of this is finally getting to me. I'm really – I just don't feel well."

He chuckled. "Well, you do look a little pale, McNally."

She leaned up and whispered in his ear: "That might be the last time you get to say that."

"Nah, you'll always be my McNally. Come on. I better get you out of here before you infect the entire Fifteenth with this virus you seemed to have picked up out of nowhere."

As his hand found the small of her back, she said, "They're going to hate us tomorrow."

"We're off for the next three days. They can hate us next week. We're going to be very busy having a private celebration for the next few days."

She fought back a gleeful smile. She cleared her throat as they headed back into the main room and approached the table. As they neared, she bit her lip, looking at Sam to play this out, knowing she could not lie to save her life.

"Hey, everyone. Andy's not feeling well. I'm going to get her home," Sam announced apologetically.

She just nodded, afraid to speak lest she dispel his excuse.

"Oh, sweetie, are you okay?" Traci asked worriedly, instantly going into mother-hen mode. "Maybe – You know you've been under a lot of stress lately, maybe you should ask Frank for a few days off."

"Already done," Sam explained, nodding in whole-hearted agreement. "Between the move and the Task Force…I think it's all just catching up. But you guys stay, enjoy the bottle of ridiculously expensive scotch and we'll see you later."

"Call if you need anything," Traci implored.

They both nodded, then Sam guided Andy through the bar and out the front door.

"When did Sam turn into such a bad liar?" Jerry asked after the door had swung closed.

"I don't know. But those two are up to something," Noelle agreed.

"No, they wouldn't…" Traci started, furrowing her brow.

"They certainly didn't seem as broken up as I thought they'd be about Hill's disappearance," Oliver piped up. "They bought the most expensive bottle of scotch in the place to commiserate with, but then left it for us? When has Sammy ever wasted good scotch?"

"It's almost like it's a bribe," Jerry posited.

"Or a pre-emptive plea for forgiveness," Noelle suggested.

"But what would we have to forgive them for? If all they wanted was to be alone…Honestly, I was a little surprised to even find them here tonight. Figured they would have gone straight home," Traci said.

"Holy Mary Mother of God and all the Saints!" Noelle exclaimed. "They're getting married!"

"No, no way," Nash denied, shaking her head and laughing as if it was the craziest thing she had ever heard. "This is Andy we're talking about. And Swarek. He got the ring on her finger, but he's going to have to drag her to the altar. I know my best friend and she's – Well, there is absolutely no way she would agree to just run off and get married."

"And Sammy…" Jerry shook his head. "Well, Sammy wouldn't get married without his best man."

"And he didn't say anything to me, so…" Oliver concurred.

"What makes you think you'd be the best man?" Jerry asked incredulously.

"What are you talking about? Of course I'd be the best man. Who else?"

"Me!"

"C'mon, Jerry, who at this table knows marriage? That's right. Me. And he already knows he screwed up once with that half-assed proposal. Really, ordering McNally to marry him? So there's no way he's not going to take my advice on the wedding and do this properly. So Noelle, my love, while I respect you like no other woman – aside from my wife, of course – you are way off base. There is no way those two are getting married," Oliver concluded.

"I'm with Oliver on this," Traci agreed.

Jerry pulled out his wallet, counting out fifty bucks. "Anyone wishing to put their money where their mouth is? Because I think Noelle here is right. I say that next time we see those two, McNally will be a Swarek."

Oliver scoffed. "I will so take that bet. Because you are wrong, my friend. You are wrong, wrong, wrong."

"I haven't even met your sister yet," Andy sighed as Sam's truck rolled down the QEW, bound for Niagara.

"She already loves you, sweetheart. You make me happy and I'm out of Guns and Gangs," Sam assured her.

"Yeah, but, I'm like depriving her of seeing you get married."

"If you're having second thoughts…"

"No, no, of course not." She reached over and laid her hand on his thigh. "I have never felt more sure of anything in my entire life. Just – Everyone's going to be mad."

Sam glanced over at her. "We don't have to do this, Andy. Yes, I want to marry you. But I can wait. If you want a real wedding –"

"No. I mean, this is a real wedding. Because it's you and me promising to spend the rest of our lives together and that's all that matters."

He grinned. "And we can throw a big party after, right? We'll do it right at The Penny, invite Tommy and Sarah. Get Boyd out to our end of town…"

"And Jason."

"Fine, sure, Donner too," he grudgingly agreed. Actually, on second thought, once she was his wife, it would not matter if Jason had been interested in Andy in anything more than a professional capacity. In fact, Sam had no problem showing off their happy union to the likes of Jason Donner.

"I like that. Yeah, let's do that." She giggled. "I can't believe that in a couple hours I'm going to be somebody's wife. Your wife. That's really cool."

Keeping his left hand on the wheel, his right slid down and encased her hand that had been resting on his leg, then brought it to his lips. "That's very cool."

"But you know what this means, right? Come next week, we won't be partners anymore," she said sadly.

"I know. But I gotta be honest, sweetheart: Given the choice, I'd rather be your husband than your partner. I trust Oliver or Nash – even Epstein – to have your back out there. But I wouldn't give up getting to go home every night with you for anything."

She nodded, sitting back in the passenger seat, her hand still surrounded by his. She looked over, taking in his profile – the man about to become her husband. She would have laughed if anyone had told the scared rookie that took down the man with greasy black hair on her first day that he would one day be her husband. Even as begrudgingly attracted as she was to the man who stripped down in front of her in the locker room, she never would have thought they would be here. Or the night of the blackout, when his touch burned her like fire. The best mistake of her life. Thank God she had figured out that he wasn't a mistake before she moved in with Luke. Sam was the best thing that ever happened to her and she would be damned if she was ever going to take that for granted.

"McNally? Promise me you won't freak out."

Andy escaped her thoughts. "What? We're about to elope and I'm cool as a cucumber. What could possibly make me freak out now?"

Sam glanced into the rear-view mirror. "Because I think we're being followed."