Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews everyone! I'm glad you're enjoying the story.

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.

Despite the amount of food that the two ordered, breakfast did not last very long.

"That's really attractive," Sam commented, watching Andy shovel another forkful of pancakes into her month.

Andy glared at him. "Yeah, and you chowing down on those disgusting eggs is really sending me through the roof."

"These eggs are not disgusting," Sam defended, stabbing his fork into the last of the pile.

"I guarantee you they are from a powder," Andy said.

"I'm not picky," Sam responded, "Food is food. It all goes to the same place."

Andy rolled her eyes. "I'll make you some real eggs sometime," she promised. "You'll never want to eat those things again."

"I don't know if I trust your cooking skills," Sam said, absent-mindedly pushing leftover hash browns around his plate.

Andy's hand, which had been lifting another forkful of pancakes, paused in midair. "You don't trust my cooking? I'll have you know I am a great cook." Great may have been a little bit of a stretch, but Andy knew she could fend for herself in the kitchen. Skills like that tended to develop when your mother left you at the age of eight with a father who considered TV dinners to be acceptable, even preferable, forms of nutrition. Once she was old enough to work the stove without burning the apartment building down, Andy had started cooking for herself and her dad.

Sam grinned at her. "I guess you've got three weeks to prove it."

"I guess so," she replied, accepting the challenge. She finished the last of her pancakes and looked up at him. "You ready to go?"

"Oh, I'm ready. Are you though?" He asked, teasing. "Do we need to order another tray of breakfast carbs for you?"

"You're hilarious," Andy said, throwing her napkin down on the table. She pulled a couple of bills out of her wallet to cover the check and tip and then stood up.

"I try McNally," Sam told her, leading her out of the diner with a hand on the small of her back. "I do try."

After a quick stop by Traci's house to pick up Andy's belongings, they made their way back to Sam's house. As Andy stood behind Sam on the stoop leading up to his door, a wave of apprehension suddenly overtook her.

The last time she had been at his house had been the night of the blackout. She waited for him to unlock the door and couldn't help but think back to when she had stood on those same steps months before, waiting for him to answer the door. That night definitely hadn't gone as planned, but Andy was beginning to realize that that was to be expected.

"McNally," Sam's voice cut through the memory. She blinked and saw that he had already opened the door and was standing inside the house. "You waiting on an invitation?"

"Sorry," she apologized quickly, following him into the house. The small entryway was familiar, but beyond that Andy didn't remember much about the layout of his house. They had made a quick and maddening journey to his bedroom the last time that she was there, and her exit was just as hurried and she tried to flee as quickly as possible.

"Okay," Sam explained, grabbing two of the heavier bags in his hands and starting up the narrow staircase. "Living room, kitchen and my room are downstairs. The spare room is up here."

Andy silently followed him up the stairs, taking in the surroundings. There was a small landing at the top of the stairs with one door to the right and one door to the left.

"That's the bathroom," Sam said, pointing to one door as he entered the other. "Do you have towels?"

Andy chuckled, amused but somewhat touched that Sam worried about whether or not she had linens. She followed him into the room, "Yeah," she said, setting the bag she was carrying on the floor right inside the bedroom. "I have towels." She looked around the room. It was small but cozy, decorated simply but nicely. It definitely was much better than what Andy had been expecting, especially considering the apartment Sam had been staying in while he was undercover. "Did you, uh…" Andy waved her hand in the air, "Did you do all this?" She fought hard to suppress a grin, but was unsuccessful.

Sam glanced around the room and before looking back to her, catching on to the fact that she was teasing him. "No, I can't take credit for any of this," he told her, chuckling. "Sarah stayed here once while I was undercover. When I came back my entire house had been redone. If it was up to me there'd be a sheet over the window and mismatched blankets on the bed."

"That makes a lot more sense," Andy laughed, picking up a picture that sat on one of the nightstands. It was a picture of Sam with his arm around a pretty woman, both beaming into the camera. It was a smile Andy didn't see very often from Sam. The woman looked familiar with her dark brown hair and eyes. "Is this your sister?"

"Yep," Sam said, coming to stand beside Andy. He looked over her shoulder at the picture. "That's Sarah. You'll probably get to meet her," he said, turning to walk out of the room.

Andy set the picture down and hurried to follow him. "Why's that?"

"She's coming to the city in a couple of weeks," Sam said simply, not offering any more information. He walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. "You want something to drink?" he asked, pulling out a water bottle.

"No, I'm good," Andy said, lowering herself onto one of the stools that sat at the counter separating the kitchen from the living room. "Why is she coming into town?"

Sam twisted off the top of the water bottle and took a long sip before answering. "Because."

Andy groaned. He was being difficult, purposely hiding something from her. "Because why?" He started to speak and she interrupted, "You know I'm going to find out the real reason, so you should probably just tell me."

Sam eyed her warily. "Okay," he said, finally relenting, "But let's not make a big deal about this? Deal?"

"Deal." Andy agreed, leaning forward on her elbows.

Sam sighed. "It's my birthday."

Andy perked up and her eyes widened. "Your birthday?" She asked excitedly. "When? Why didn't I know?"

"On the 24th and because I don't want people to know. Remember five seconds ago when we said we weren't going to make a big deal about this?" Sam reminded her.

Andy ignored him, continuing with her line of questioning. "How old are you going to be?"

"Old," Sam grumbled.

Andy smiled sweetly at him. "How old?" Sam glared at Andy but finally answered, his response too low for Andy to hear. "I didn't quite catch that," Andy said, cupping her hand behind her ear and leaning forward. "What was that?"

Sam rolled his eyes but repeated, louder this time, "Forty."

Andy just grinned and leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. "We need to have a party," she declared, ideas already forming in her mind. She was almost certain she could get Oliver on board. "It's not everyday you turn forty. Over the hill."

"Absolutely not," Sam warned, walking around the counter and into the living room. "Now come on, let's get this tour over with. I want to get some sleep."

Andy hopped up and followed him, dropping the topic of his birthday for the moment. Sam stopped in front of his large entertainment center.

"Okay," he said, picking up a remote control and instructing her seriously, "these are the only buttons you will ever need to push…"

The rest of the tour didn't last very long. When Sam pointed out where his room was Andy felt her face unexpectedly flush with heat and she hoped that he didn't notice.

"That's about it," he said, clapping his hands together. He smiled and Andy noticed that he looked almost self conscious. She didn't like that look, it was so uncharacteristic of him. "It's not much but…"

Andy cut him off by placing a hand on his arm. "No, it's great," she told him. "Thank you." She grinned wryly, remembering back to a conversation they had. "You're always there when it matters."

Sam just nodded sharply, stepping away from her and breaking the contact between her hand and his arm. "I'm probably going to sleep for a couple hours," he said, moving towards his room. "Do you need anything?"

"Nope," Andy assured him, stretching her arms over her head as she moved towards the stairs. "I'm just going to unpack and then hit the sack myself." She turned to face him once more before heading up the stairs. "See you later… roomie."

Sam chuckled, "See you later, roomie."

He entered him room and closed the door. Leaning against it, he rubbed his hand down his face and muttered to himself, "Roomie." Having her so close, in his own house, was going to make for a long three weeks, he thought, stripping off his clothes as he walked to the bathroom, intent on showering before finally getting some much-needed sleep.

They slept much longer anticipated, both exhausted from staying up the night before. They woke up in time to order takeout for dinner and watch a little bit of television before deciding that since they both had to work in the morning they should probably turn in for the night.

That had been over an hour ago and Sam had yet to fall asleep. He tossed and turned in his bed for a little while longer, trying to find a comfortable position, before getting irritated and deciding to just give up. As he was swinging his legs over the side of the bed to stand he heard the television turn on.

He padded out of his room and turned the sharp corner into the kitchen. From there, he could see Andy curled up on the sofa in the living room with a carton of ice cream in her lap. The television was the only source of light and it illuminated the space with a soft blue glow.

Sam cleared his throat to make his presence known. Andy jumped at the noise and turned to look at him from her spot on the sofa. "Can't sleep?" He asked, leaning against the closest wall and folding his arms across his chest.

Andy, who had relaxed after seeing that it was him, shook her head. "Nope," she said, "I knew I shouldn't have slept that long this afternoon. Sorry, did I wake you?"

"I was up, couldn't really sleep either," Sam told her.

"Yeah." She paused. "Luke called me," she said, offering the information out of nowhere, her voice void of emotion.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah, I didn't answer it, but like an idiot I listened to the voicemail he left." Andy paused to eat a spoonful of ice cream. "It was all Andy I miss you… Andy I'm sorry… Andy, let's work this out…." She jabbed her spoon at the ice cream. "Blah blah blah."

"Sounds like the guy is having a rough time," Sam observed from his spot across the room.

Andy whipped her head around to look at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam shrugged. "He knows he messed up, big time, and now he regrets it."

"Yeah, well," Andy waved her spoon in the air to emphasize her point, "He should have thought about that before he slept with someone else."

"True," Sam agreed. "So did that phone call spur this little wallowing session?"

"I am not wallowing," Andy told him, pointing her spoon at him.

"It looks like you're wallowing," Sam countered, his lip tugging up into a teasing grin.

"Well, I'm not." Andy informed him. "I'm simply… taking necessary measures to move on." She took a big scoop of ice cream and lifted the spoon to inspect it. "I think our boxing session pushed me right through the depression stage and now I'm teetering on the brink of acceptance," she told him before licking the spoon clean. Her mouth still full, she explained, "I'm hoping the ice cream will help push me over."

"Oh yeah?" Sam asked. "How's that working out for you?"

"Not really sure yet," Andy admitted, taking another bite. "But this ice cream is really good. You want some?"

Sam opened his utensil drawer and grabbed a spoon. "Don't mind if I do," he said, pulling a bowl down from the shelf before making his way to the sofa. "Since it's my ice cream and all."

Andy smiled apologetically as Sam took a seat beside her. "Sorry," she said, scooting over to make room for him. "I'll buy some more."

"Don't worry about it," Sam assured. Andy held the carton out to him and he was about to spoon some of the ice cream into his bowl when she stopped him.

"It's better if you just eat it out of the carton," she said. Sam raised a quizzical eyebrow and she couldn't help but laugh, "I'm serious. Besides," she added, "wallowing sessions require ice cream to be eaten straight out of the carton."

"I thought this wasn't a wallowing session?" He teased, but nonetheless took a spoonful of ice cream from the carton.

Andy looked at him expectantly. "See?" She asked. "It's better, isn't it?"

Sam couldn't tell the difference one way or the other. "Oh yeah," he said, unable to keep from rolling his eyes. "It's a completely different experience."

Andy just laughed at him and scooped up some more ice cream. She was surprised at how natural the situation felt. She had kind of expected staying at Sam's to be awkward and tense, but so far it hadn't been at all. He made her feel comfortable. After a moment she spoke quietly, almost hesitantly, "Sam, you know that just because I may be sad and I'm eating a lot of ice cream on your couch," she paused, trying to figure out how to word what she wanted to say. "It doesn't mean that I'm having second thoughts about leaving him."

"I know," Sam said, nodding slowly. "And just because I tell you he's having a hard time…" he cleared his throat and stretched out to a more comfortable position, his legs resting on the coffee table in front of them. "It doesn't mean that I think you shouldn't have left him. Or," he confessed, "That I haven't considered multiple methods of hurting him for what he did."

"I know," Andy said, echoing his words. They shared a small smile of understanding before turning their attention back to the television.

After watching the characters on the screen for less than a minute, Sam turned to Andy. "What is this that we're watching?"

Andy stared intently at the television, refusing to turn to look at him. "The Wedding Singer."

"Interesting choice," Sam observed.

"It's the only thing on and it's funny," Andy said defensively. She gestured towards the stack of DVDs that sat next to the TV, all presumably rejected. "And it's not like I had much else to choose from."

"Well," Sam apologized sarcastically, "I'm sorry my collection isn't up to your standards."

Andy just "hmmed" and set the ice cream carton on the coffee table. She settled back into the cushions of the sofa, pulling the blanket that had been lying over her legs up to her chin.

"You know, I'm not so sure I'm comfortable with this," Sam said, stretching his arm across the back of the couch.

Andy glanced over at him. "What?"

"Well," Sam explained, a lazy grin spreading across his face, "You've been here less than a day and I'm already eating ice cream and watching chick flicks."

"Need I remind you," Andy bantered back easily, "that you're the one that had cookie dough ice cream in his freezer."

Sam shook his head, chuckling, "Just watch the movie."

Andy glanced at her watch. "We're really going to regret this in about… oh, six hours," she told him.

"Well, my DVD collection may be lacking but I've got plenty of coffee McNally," Sam assured her with a wink before they both turned their attention back to the movie.