A/N Thank you so much for all the reviews, they absolutely made my day! I feel so lucky to have joined the RB writing community! I hope you enjoy Chapter Numero Deux. And hope you're having an amazing summer!

Sam raised an eyebrow, and then sighed quietly. 3:21AM screamed the numbers on the clock in their bright, glowing shapes.

"McNally, I don't tell stories. Hell, I barely tell jokes. I don't even know any stories," he informed her matter-of-factly.

"Please, Sam?" she asked him softly, and he just knew she would be giving him those innocent doe eyes of hers if he was there. And so he agreed reluctantly, somewhere between amused and exasperated, but they both knew he would…could never tell her no.

She snuggled into her pillow, cuddling up with her comforter. She turned on her side and left the phone on speaker beside her head, curling up. Funny how a 26 year old woman could be reduced to 6 with a little desperation for sleep. She had been plagued by insomnia and nightmares lately, and although it pained her to admit it, coming home to an empty apartment just…sucked. So much for lone wolf. Actually, looking back now, she didn't know why she ever thought that was possible, or what she wanted. Her childhood didn't exactly give the idea of a lone wolf much appeal. And there was no denying the chemistry that had crackled through the air outside the penny with Sam that first night. She could probably hold out, stay by herself. But was it what she wanted? Here she was on the phone with her very recently ex-training officer and it just felt so…normal.

"Once upon a time, there was a girl named…"

"Sandy."

Sam snorted, amused. "Alright. Sandy. She was a –"

"Cop."

"Hey, Andy?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up, I'm telling a story."

Andy giggled, and Sam continued. "She was a rookie cop with a deadly allergy to silence."

"Was she pretty?"

"Beautiful."

Sun streamed through the windows, bathing her small yet spacious condo in its yellow rays. She groaned and rolled over into her pillow and practically growled when her forehead met the plastic-y buttons of her phone. Andy sat up and rubbed her eyes, trying to remember how her phone managed to get into her bed. Oh. The hand rubbing the bridge of her nose froze, and last night's events came rushing back to her. Her insomnia, calling Sam, the story. She checked her call history on her phone. 2 hours? They hadn't talked that long…Had they? She glanced at the clock and a panicked "Oh shit!" left her lips. She groaned again, falling forward and covering her head with her pillow for a few seconds before jumping out of bed. Best was going to kill her if she was late for parade on more time.

As she stared at herself in the mirror, toothbrush in hand, she felt a smile spread across her face. He thinks I'm beautiful! Well, he thinks that Sandy is beautiful. She face-palmed. Sandy? I chose Sandy. Way to be subtle McNally. She rolled her eyes and finished brushing her teeth.

She threw her tank top on and grabbed a banana. So am I Sandy? Or is Sandy just this fictional character? I mean, Sandy and Andy…I wouldn't describe myself as beautiful, but I guess I'm generally attractive. Does that mean Sam thinks that I'm beautiful? Or is it just in the story?

She hopped off the bus, and ran into the locker-room. I hope he tells more of this story. Actually, I can't even believe he started telling this story. Sam doesn't tell stories. Although, knowing Sam, this will probably be the last I ever hear of Sandy. Maybe I should ask Sam –

"…McNally and Swarek, and Shaw and Epstein. Serve, protect, and get your head out of the clouds, McNally."

The other officers turned to look at her, and she felt a blush rise up her cheeks.

Sam had been watching her that morning, and he could practically see the gears turning in her head and rolled his eyes. He had so been hoping she wouldn't over-think this whole story thing. After all, she's the one who asked him to tell her a story, made the character's name Sandy, made her a cop. Okay, so he might've intentionally added the allergy to silence part. And the beautiful part. But still...Was it so wrong to hope that they could at least pretend that it didn't happen. At least until they were on the phone again; hearing her voice through a tinny cell phone made it seem less real.

"Sam? We going?"

He shook his head slightly, as if to clear the cobwebs from his brain.

"Right behind you, McNally."

They had gotten through about half of their shift; stopped for breakfast, responded to a domestic disturbance, patrolled the streets and returned to their typical greasy diner for lunch, or in Andy's case, her second breakfast. And as he chewed his French fries, he tried to ignore the way her eyes were looking at him. And he just knew, just knew what she was going to ask about.

"So, uhm, what happened last night?"

"You called and interrupted a perfectly nice sleep, we talked, you fell asleep, I hung up and went to sleep myself," he summarized carefully.

"Sorry about interrupting, even though I distinctly recall you saying that I wasn't."

"And you believed me?" he half-teased.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, a little sharper.

"McNally. You interrupted. I just didn't mind. There's a difference," he replied, meeting her eyes when she lifted up her head again, one corner of her lips turning up.

They resumed their quiet consumption of their breakfast when Andy's voice broke the silence again.

"See, I have this problem. When I get tired, I become brutally honest and then to make it all worse, I totally don't remember half of the things I say the next morning."

Sam raised an eyebrow, "So you don't remember anything from last night?"

"I remember some of it," she said hesitantly, worrying her bottom lip, "up until the point where you said Sandy was beautiful."

"You only remember til then? Jeez, McNally, I told you half the story before you fell asleep!" Sam groaned.

Andy shrugged, looking innocent. "Oops? What did you say? You have to tell me."

"I already told you."

"But I don't remember!" she whined.

"Too bad. This story thing was a one time deal."

"Pleeeeeeeeease, Sam? You already told me once. It can't be that big of a deal to tell me again," she wheedled, biting the corner of her lip as she waited for his response.

He sighed, "We'll see. Finish your pancakes, McNally, I'm sure as hell not telling you now."

"Yes, sir!" she mock saluted.

"Oh my God. I didn't say anything, did I? Because I don't remember saying anything," she asked after a few minutes of silence.

Sam practically smacked his forehead in exasperation. And the whole silence thing was going so well…

"No, McNally, you didn't say anything embarrassing."

"Oh, thank god."

"You actually don't remember anything after that point?" he asked, not believing her.

"I swear. It's such a problem. It's like I'm sleep-roofied."

"Sleep-roofied."

"Yeah."

Sam grinned, "I could have so much fun with this."

They got up from the table and he threw a few bills down, just in time for her to smack his arm.

"Don't even…"

Sam just smirked.

"Sam!" she yelled as she followed him to the car.

The rest of the day was mostly uneventful, and as he checked his own call history, he was glad that she didn't push him about how long the call was. Because saying 'I just listened to you breathe' on the phone is a little creepy, Swarek, he thought to himself.

Sam stared at his phone as the seconds on the screen ticked by. 96:30. 96:31. 96:32. Andy had just fallen asleep, and her quiet breathing echoed through the earpiece of his phone. He was going to be so screwed for tomorrow. It was rare when he could fall back asleep after being woken up in the middle of the night. But Andy didn't have to know that. If he was being honest with himself, he was glad that she called. And he was glad that she answered. And maybe he was even a little bit glad about being able to tell her a story. A story about Sandy; who might as well be called Andy. Many minutes later, Sam found the quiet in and outs of her breathing slowly lull him closer to a normally evasive sleep. He whispered a quiet goodnight to a sleeping Andy and reluctantly hung up his cell phone, tucking it under the opposite pillow just in case she called again. Maybe one day she'd be there beside him instead of her voice through the phone next to him. Maybe one day.