A/N: Requested on my tumblr (anotheropti) as a fic based on the lyrics to Blue Swede's "Hooked on a Feeling."

I generally don't like song fics (e.g. a fic where the song lyrics are inside of the fic and integral to understanding what's going on in the fic) so this isn't necessarily that, but it does rely on the imagery and cadence/structure of the song. So, yeah! It's an amazing song, either way.

She really doesn't get it, does she? April thinks he just likes to kiss her, or that he likes to look at her and call her pretty, and that sex is pretty great. She just doesn't get it, and Andy isn't sure if he'll ever be able to explain to her what he's going through when they so much as look at each other. Yeah, when he kisses her it's like he finally gets what that Jimmy Buffett song is about and he wants to do it again and again because she tastes like something sweet and fruity - two things that definitely don't scream April to him - and he's lost in that. April just doesn't realize what she does to him, though.

At all.

In bed, cuddling together with April small in his arms, knees curled up between their bodies and her hands in his at their heads and above her blockade between them, Andy still doesn't think she understands.

"Babe," he whispers, nudging her with their hands intertwined. "Hey, babe."

She blinks her eyes open, dull and without seeing, and it takes her a few more moments before anything is actually in them and then April looks at him, tired, and smiles. Or, really, it's just a movement of her lips but that's what Andy calls her smile. "Yeah?" she asks, husky voiced and sleep clear in her eyes still. "What's up?"

"You-" Andy wants to continue, but April stretches her legs out and smashes her body against his. Nestling her head in his chest, April sighs and their hands leave each other to go around the other's back, keeping them as close as possible. "Love you."

Andy's not smart, but he knows that someone as cool and amazing, and smart, as April shouldn't answer that back. Really, as much as he's cool and awesome, that's, like, a tenth of how April is just the best person in the world and he'll never get tired of her sleepy voice answering back, quiet and a little needy if he's right:

"Love you too."

Getting drunk with April is an insane experience. They both turn handsy and grope each other no matter where they are and April makes all kinds of dirty, dumb jokes that Andy's never heard before. He tries to tell her some but loses track of what he meant to say because when April pays attention to him she's attentive and her abnormally large eyes are mesmerizing and, when he's staring into these windows into her soul he can see it back there. Behind them, he feels that same unfamiliar pull towards her that he always does and sees, really sees, that belief that she's in love with him.

"You are so pretty," Andy mutters in a drunken haze, lost in alcohol's blunt wonder, doing just that and staring into April's eyes like he could be there forever.

April's face turns a spectacular shade of pink, not quite rosy but a definite shade of color rises to her cheeks, and she gives him that tiny smirk that changes his understanding of every single thing in the world. It's the sort of smile that tells him he's right - of course he is, she's beautiful and he couldn't say the right word because maybe she'd get mad - and that getting drunk with her is so awesome.

"What?" her voice barely escapes her lips, miniature and intoxicated.

"I said..." Andy closes his eyes and thinks for a second. What did he say? Oh, right. "You are beautiful."

And that's the first time he learned that April had only ever been called beautiful by two other people in her life. Which, as far as Andy's concerned, is a crime against everything he holds dear. Not that it matters. April's an amazing person, but apparently it matters to her because she won't stop kissing him after. Their beer and wine sits forgotten, one glass spilled when a shirt collides with it on the table in their frantic removal of clothes.

Andy knew he was totally gone the first time they kissed. From then on, that disastrous hospital encounter to their wedding day, Andy can't get it out of his mind.

She's in love with me.

Everything she does, from frying marbles to throwing eggs against the wall because she's tired and annoyed at trying to make breakfast, drives him wild. It's stupid, probably, but why bother worrying about that when April can wear an apron as a joke and then, moments later, lose every article of clothing between the two of them because for whatever reason he thinks she's stupid hot wearing it. Then again, she's stupid hot wearing anything. Preferably nothing, according to Andy.

Which is weird, because when April gets naked she crosses her arms and gets antsy when he touches her legs and it's almost like she worries about it. To Andy, though, he's high on being able to do any of this with her. Sometimes literally, but April prefers that for when she's actually nervous and anxious. That's when they usually smoke a little before work and April tells him she can go in without a million thoughts buzzing inside her head and she thanks him. She thanks him for something that small.

She's in love with me.

Which, honestly, just sparks that same intuition that she wants to screw him on the spot. Andy's success rate, so far, is one-hundred percent. He really hopes there isn't a day when he's wrong.

He doesn't even understand, does he?

How much that when he says that he loves her, she believes it. When Andy calls her pretty, and she knows it, and it shouldn't matter at all but it does, how much she loves him. April doesn't think he gets that he's so intuitive about almost everything to do with her - from her dreams, and her need for independence and space, and her almost insatiable desire for him - and how just being able to be herself and not having to explain it to him is the most wonderful thing on the planet.

They, together, try to tell the other just how much they love them. Forever, they try to show it but it never seems to be enough for them. Except it is, and every time April gets told that she has her own dreams and that Andy wants her to follow them she should know that he loves her more than anything in the entire universe combined and multiplied and then combined with that, mixed with that result once more, and the final sum doubled and tripled. An ounce of that is all he could hope for in return, so Andy tries to let her know in everything that he loves her just that much. He, too, is given all she can muster up because, to April, he needs to know that she couldn't go a single day without him. Yes, in the day itself she'd go about her own life and be with people that aren't him and, generally, be herself. But at the end of the day what April wants is to go back home, find Andy in boxers playing video games, snuggle up with him and watch some zombie or soldier or whatever get blown up, and be content. She wants to show him that he can be whatever he wants, but April still isn't sure he gets it.

Deep down, they know that what they have alone is the best kind of love and, yet, they always try to show it again. That's, in April and Andy's minds, how this works. There's no time to complacent because, then, she won't get that same massive jolt to her heart when he says, earnest and with the biggest heart known to man, "I love you."

It'd kill her inside to lose that, but April knows she won't. Realistically it won't ever leave, but she'll fight for it every day just to prove to him that she can return it. To say it back in the quiet hours when she feels so at home with him that her heart beats at the right time, though his turns into a frantic hammer on a bony anvil in his chest, when she says, earnest and with the biggest heart he'd ever seen squirreled away from the rest of the world, "I love you."