A/N: I need to take this opportunity to give each and every one of you who reviewed, alerted and favorite my sincere thanks. I honestly was very unsure whether or not to even post this story yesterday. Your overwhelming response left me bowled over. Thank you.
Extra special 'thank you's' to MegEvans1983 and kitkat2010 for their advice, support and encouragement.
As promised, here is the 2nd installment, within 24 hours.
Disclaimer- If I was affiliated with RB in any way, I'd be out throwing a big ole Season 4 renewal party that everyone'd want to have.
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A few minutes later, they pull up in front of a cozy little Italian joint in the neighborhood - one of those mom and pop places, half pizzeria and half restaurant. Sam shifts the gear to 'park' and nods towards the place.
"This okay?" he asks.
"Perfect," Andy agrees. She halfway expected him to pull up to some sort of drive-thru, before shoving her out of the door in front of Traci's, in a rush to get rid of her for the night.
Andy starts to head towards one of the dinky little tables near the pizza counter when Sam grabs her elbow, stopping her. "You in some sort of rush, McNally?"
"No," Andy looks at him, confused. "Why?"
"Well, if it's okay with you," he says half sarcastically, "I'd like to sit down and enjoy my dinner, not just grab a slice and go." He jerks his head toward the restaurant side and begins to lead her over before she can even respond.
Andy nods and follows him. "Um, yep. Okay."
They decide on a cozy little booth in the far back corner, take their jackets off and settle in comfortably across from each other. The waitress idles over, and it is obvious that she recognizes Sam, if the way she greets him, smiles at him and practically drools all over him is any indication. She honestly doesn't even look Andy's way when she hands them the menus.
"Friend of yours?" Andy asks stiffly, failing to keep the jealousy out of her tone.
Sam shrugs. "Come here every now and again," is all he offers.
"I've never been here before," Andy states the obvious, looking around at the traditional décor. "It seems nice."
A moment later, the waitress returns, smiling at Sam, her back facing Andy. "Have you decided what you'd like to drink yet?"
Sam opens his mouth to speak, but Andy interrupts. "I'd like a glass of the house Pinot Noir," she says curtly.
The waitress glances back at Andy briefly, finally noticing that she was there. "And for you, sir?" she inquires in the sweetest tone possible.
"That sounds good," Sam agrees. "Just bring the bottle."
"Right away, sir," the waitress winks as she sashays away.
"Geeze." Andy rolls her eyes. "I mean, could she be any more obvious?" she asks, annoyed.
"About what?" Sam's eyebrows scrunch together with confusion.
"Flirting with you," Andy responds. "Come on, Sam, the way she was smiling at you, batting her fake eyelashes, not realizing that I was even sitting here…"
"Jealous, McNally?" he asks, not even trying to hold back his signature smirk.
"What? No!" she fumbles. Then she sees the playful look on his face. "You wish," she retaliates confidently.
"If you say so," Sam responds, his eyes shining with mirth.
"It's just… She's just…" she blows out an irritated breath.
"Just what?" Sam prompts.
"She's rude, is what she is," Andy finally decides on.
"Rude?"
"Yeah!" Andy insists. "How does she know that we're not on a date or something?" She shakes her head and looks down at the menu, missing the amused smirk that momentarily takes residence on Sam's face.
A moment later, the server brings over the bottle of wine and pours out two glasses. "Have you had a chance to decide what you'd like?" she addresses Sam once again.
He looks over at Andy, who is currently scowling into her menu. "We just need another minute or two," Sam answers, still grinning.
The waitress nods. "Be back in just a second, doll," she says before heading over to another table.
"Rude," Andy repeats. "Tell me you didn't notice that."
He turns his head once, quickly and unconcerned. "Eh, she's not my type."
Andy snorts. "I've heard that one before."
"Yeah, well," he shrugs. When he continues, his tone is noticeably softer. "This time I mean it."
Andy whips her head up to look at him, but he is already looking towards the server, who is on her way back to their booth to take their orders. Okay… moment over then, she guesses.
"Here," she says, while thrusting a piece of Italian bread his way, without bothering to ask if he wants it.
"Thanks." He takes the slice from her hand, and when their fingers brush, she quickly reaches for the butter in an attempt to try to ignore the palpable spark that passes between them.
"Well, your date seemed really interesting," Sam drawls out after a minute or two. "Riding around on a horse for ten hours a day must be really fascinating."
"Ugh," Andy groans. She knew he wasn't going to let her off that easily.
"No really," he goes on, "I bet you can't wait to see him again."
"Shut up," she grumbles, but can't keep the humor from her tone or the smile from her face.
"You sure know how to pick 'em, McNally," Sam taunts.
"Thanks," Andy deadpans, looking up from her menu. "That, coming from a man who hasn't been in a relationship since I met him."
"Maybe I've just been waiting for the right girl to finally come around," Sam responds softly, while looking straight into her eyes.
This time, Andy's not sure whether she should be grateful or annoyed when they are interrupted by the arrival of their entrees. They work as well together at the dinner table as they do on the streets; Andy wordlessly passes him a knife when he looks for one, Sam hands her the grated cheese before she can ask for it.
She sits and stares at him, studies his features and revels in just how normal this whole scene is. Sure, they've eaten together while out on patrol before, stopped for a quick breakfast after a night shift or two, but somehow this is different - comfortable and familiar, yet new and exciting all at the same time.
She takes a sip of water to cool her hormones off a bit before she starts on her Pasta Bolognese. 'This is not a date' she reminds herself, twining the strands around her fork. No matter how badly she wants it to be.
"So," Sam drawls out, taking in Andy's expression, as she slurps her spaghetti. He's caught off guard when her tongue slides across her lower lip, licking away a stray drop of sauce. Sam feels his mouth go dry when Andy looks up from her plate, right into his eyes.
"What?" she asks after half a minute. "Do I have something on my face?" Andy's smiling now, pretty pleased with herself for having caught him staring for once.
Sam's about to say something sarcastic to deflect, when he notices that, yes, actually she does. It's just a small spot of sauce on her cheek, probably splashed off from a strand of pasta.
"Actually…" he uses his hand to gesture at his own face, trying to clue her in to the general vicinity of where the sauce is on her. "Just a little…"
Now, Andy's really embarrassed. She thought she was being all smug and cute, when really she is sitting there like a fool with food on her face. Great.
She lifts the napkin to dab at the corner of her mouth and looks back at Sam. "Did I get it?"
"Nope, a little higher."
And now he is laughing at her. Just great. Whatever, it's not like Sam's never seen her do something embarrassing before, hell, she thinks, half of the time he sets her up for it.
She tries again, mindful of her make-up and when she looks to him again, he shakes his head in the negative. She brings the napkin up a third time when she notices Sam shift.
"Oh, for Pete's sake, McNally," he chuckles, half standing to lean over the table. "C'mere." He uses one hand to brace the table and reaches the other one to her head. "Hold still," he instructs as he cups the side of her face in his hand. Andy holds her breath, paralyzed by the intimacy of the gesture. Their eyes lock, focused intently on each other, while he brushes one thumb over her cheek, wiping away the sauce. "That's better," his deep voice echoes after a beat. He makes no immediate move to sit back though.
In that moment, Andy is honestly contemplating if she should give into the overwhelming urge to lean into his touch, maybe even move in closer towards him. At this point, who cares if they are in the middle of a restaurant or not? Seriously.
"Is everything okay over here? Is there anything else I can get for you, Sir?"
Oh, for the love of—"We're fine," Andy snaps icily at the waitress as Sam settles back in his seat. She's starting to think that this chick is interrupting them on purpose now. The waitress saunters away; seems like she finally bought a clue. She relaxes again and looks back at Sam. "What?" she questions his skyrocketing eyebrows.
"I always thought your eyes were light brown, McNally," he responds coolly. "Never noticed them turn that shade of green before."
She rolls her eyes, embarrassed at her own jealous outburst, and reaches for her wine. When he starts laughing at her, she scowls at him dramatically and stabs a piece of chicken parm off of his plate.
"By all means," he says, still smiling. "Help yourself."
They eat quietly for a while, simply enjoying the atmosphere and each other's company. All of a sudden, Sam finds the quiet, well... disquieting. He used to love the sound of silence and now, as much as he hates to admit it, he misses hearing the sound of McNally's voice. He actually wants to listen to her ramble on about things he has absolutely no interest in - the other rookies, Nash's kid, her dad, whatever – he just wants to get her to talk.
"Did you find a new place yet?" He's happy that he thought up a topic he actually does care about.
"Nope, not yet," Andy sighs out in frustration.
"What's the problem?" Sam asks. He really hopes that her not finding a new place to move in to doesn't mean that she's not ready to move on.
"Nothing. I just haven't really had much free time, and then when I do, I have to wait until my dad's or Traci's car is available, so…" she shrugs.
"Anytime you need a ride, just call," Sam volunteers.
Andy is shaking her head before he's even done with the sentence. "No, that's alright. Thank you, though."
"I mean it, Andy," he assures her. "I wouldn't mind giving you a hand."
"Are you offering to be my chauffer?" Andy giggles.
"Aren't I every day, anyway?"
"Hey!" Andy protests. "That's your fault; you never let me drive!"
They both laugh, and Andy thinks back to the last time she checked out places to live. It's possible she wouldn't mind 'checking out some places together' with Sam, especially if he keeps smiling at her the way that he is right now. She feels her cheeks begin to warm at the imagery.
"Well, the truck would be handy," Andy teases. "I might be able to think of something to do with you, too."
"Oh, I'm sure you'd think of something," Sam agrees. He has to consciously stop his thoughts from going astray there for a minute.
"Well, I have seen you work with tools before." She smiles, thinking back to the time he helped fix Marie D'Abramo's sink. "Maybe I'll put some of that handyman knowledge to good use."
"Are you asking me to check out your plumbing, McNally?" Sam gibes, wiggling his eyebrows up and down.
"Shut up," Andy laughs, while using her foot to kick at his leg under the table. "You are such an adolescent sometimes."
Sam only shrugs in response. He knows that he can be.
"Ugh, I really do need to get out of Traci's though," Andy sighs. "Sometimes it can get pretty uncomfortable."
"How do you mean?" Sam questions.
"Well, on the weekends that Traci's ex has Leo, Jerry comes over," she admits scrunching her nose.
"What's the matter with Jerry?" he asks, confused. "He's a good guy."
"No, I know he is. I just mean…" Andy huffs and rolls her eyes, "They don't usually make the type of noises that you want to fall asleep to."
"Ah, I get it," Sam says exaggeratedly. "Here I thought, that maybe he said he was prettier than you."
"Shut up," she laughs.
She goes to kick him under the table again, but this time he anticipates the move, and catches her leg. Instinctively, he rubs his thumb a bit over the bone in her ankle; her eyes fly to his. The air crackles between them, charged with that familiar, delicious tension. He slowly releases his hold on her, and she takes the opportunity to hide her blush behind her napkin, under the guise of wiping her face. Her leg is still tingling.
Sam clears his throat. "You, uh, want some dessert?" he asks, politely.
"No, I'm good," Andy decides. She figures that if she sits across from him in that restaurant for one more second, she is either going to combust or do or say something totally stupid. She needs – no, they need - to get out of there.
Sam signals for the check and Andy makes a move for her wallet, but he waives her off. "Next time," he declares, pulling a few bills from his wallet.
Andy can't help but smile. Next time. It's possible she wouldn't mind that.
"You ready to go then?"
"Yep."
"Then let's go," he offers, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Sam's not exactly sure what he's going to do with her once they leave. He knows what he wants to do with her, but that scenario is pretty unlikely, he figures. All he knows is that he really doesn't want to take her back to Nash's just yet. He needs to come up with a plan to spend more time with her.
Now that they've decided to leave, Andy feels a fluttering erupt in her stomach. She's not sure if its nerves or anticipation or what, all she knows is that it's like nothing she's ever felt before. Not on her first ever date, not with her serious boyfriend from college, not even with Luke, and sure as shit not with Bernie Lucas. But this is Sam. Sam. It's different with him, always has been. In that moment she's not sure if she wants to faint or puke or…
Who's she kidding? What she wants to do is jump him right there in that restaurant. But she can't do that. No, she needs to keep cool, take her time, go slow. She needs this to work out. Because, Sam? Sam is so not a rebound.
Andy jumps out of her seat like a fully wound jack- in -the -box and turns around to grab her purse. She eyes the wine glass that's still half-full, or half-empty she guesses, depending on how you see it.
'Liquid courage', she thinks, snatching it off of the table. She holds the wine glass up, considering the pros and cons of downing it in one gulp. A second later, it doesn't matter, because Sam calls her name and she spins around quickly, which causes her to bump into him. Suddenly the glass isn't half anything - it's empty - and the wine is spilled all over Sam's shirt. Like she said: just great.
"Oh my gosh, Sam, I'm so sorry!" Andy exclaims. She immediately grabs a napkin from the table and begins to blot furiously at the stain.
Sam looks down at himself, shocked, then back up to her. "Is that a nice way to say thank you for dinner?"
"I didn't know you were there, and I just turned around and…"she rambles nervously, still working on his shirt.
He puts his large hand over hers, grabbing it to stop her fidgeting. "It's fine, Andy; relax."
She finally looks up at him and their eyes lock. They are both very aware of their proximity, and the fact that that he is basically holding her hand to his chest. Momentarily lost in each other's gaze, they barely register the "Excuse us" that comes from a new set of patrons trying to pass them.
Sam recovers first and moves out of the way. He hands Andy her jacket, shrugs his on and heads toward the exit. When he looks back, Andy is still kind of just standing there, absently futzing with the buttons on her jacket.
Sam smirks as he calls back to her. "You coming, clutz?"
She scowls at him but immediately follows. She wrinkles her nose and pokes her tongue out at him as she walks through the door he's holding open for her.
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Ten minutes later, they pull up in front of his place.
"What are we doing here?" Andy asks, nervously.
"I'm going to get cleaned up," Sam explains, turning the engine off. "I can't be driving around smelling like a wino."
Andy watches, wide-eyed as he pulls his keys from the ignition. "And you want me to come up with you?"
"Need my keys to open the door," Sam says slowly, like she's lost her mind. "You're welcome to come up if you want, or you can stay here and freeze." He shrugs, nonchalant. "Your choice."
Andy sits there for at least another minute, legitimately debating whether or not she should follow him inside. The decision is made for her when Sam yanks open the passenger's door, grabs her wrist, and gently pulls her out.
"Come on, McNally," he coaxes, chuckling at the nervous look on her face. He also doesn't drop her wrist until they are at his door.
The minute he enters the doorway, he throws his bag down, puts his mail on the table and flings his jacket onto the nearest armchair. He rips his tee shirt off immediately after that and heads to the kitchen to grab something to wipe the stickiness off of his chest. He wets a paper towel, quickly dampens it with the faucet, and starts to clean himself up. When he looks her way, she is definitely staring.
"McNally," he calls, amusedly.
Her eyes immediately snap back up to his. "What was that?" she squeaks, thinking that she may have missed something he's said. She may be a little embarrassed about being caught looking, but hey, he's the one who stripped in front of her. Again. Besides that, has he been working out lately?
"I was about to tell you to help yourself to a water or something from the 'fridge," he answers. He's trying to hold back his amusement, but when her eyes drift down once again while he's speaking, he can't resist the urge to tease her a bit. "Didn't anyone ever teach you that it's rude to stare?"
"I wasn't staring," she says immediately, squaring her shoulders and looking him right in the eye, defiantly.
"Would ogling be a more appropriate word then?" he sasses smoothly as he begins towards her, his stride slow and deliberate.
"I just thought you missed a spot," she blurts out, feeling twenty types of stupid. When he finally stops close enough that the tips of their shoes are practically touching, he looks straight into her eyes.
"Yeah?" he questions, using that low, husky voice that sends her pulse racing, "Where?"
She sinks her teeth into her lower lip, trying to figure out a way to answer him, but the truth of the matter is that her brain quit working the second his shirt came off. Right now she has to focus all of her energy into actually remembering to breathe. She looks down at him once again and brings her hand up.
"Here," Andy whispers, as she slowly slides her hand up his stomach to the center of his broad chest, and moves in a little closer. She can feel his breath quicken with the rise and fall of his sternum. When she looks back up, into his eyes, they've unmistakably gotten considerably darker and she thinks she might be able to melt under his gaze alone.
"Andy…" he tries to warn her, gently. Then he feels her thread her fingers through his chest hair and tug at it just the tiniest bit.
Sam only hesitates for a second before he lowers his head and kisses her, softly. His lips move against hers with such a delicate finesse and slow deliberation that it could nearly be considered reverent. 'Finally' his brain sighs. He stops suddenly, and looks at her, his dark eyes searching hers. When he sees invitation, wanting and desire in her eyes, he dips his head again to capture her mouth with his.
The second his lips touch hers, everything inside of Andy just relaxes. All she can think in that moment is 'Yes. This.' This is what she has been waiting for; this is what she needs. Honestly, this is all she's ever wanted – this feeling; this man.
After a year of beating around the bush, hiding, running away - she's finally here. Here, engulfed in the arms of this man, the one she's always wanted; the one who almost got away. Andy whimpers, as she feels Sam tighten his hold on her; his strong arms wrapped around her in the most protective way, never wanting to let her go. This is what it's all about.
They kiss lazily for a few minutes more, reveling in the taste of each other's mouths, the feel of each other's lips, the caress of each other's hands. When Andy feels Sam's mouth start to move against her neck, and his hand inch upward from her waist, something unfurls inside of her in the best possible way.
"Sam," she gasps and clings to the muscles in his back for support as she kicks off her shoes. "Sam." When he hums against her collarbone in response, her hands reactively fly to the back of his head, her fingers threading through his thick hair. "Bedroom."
He tears his mouth from her skin for a second and searches her eyes again. He sees no hesitation, no fear, no regret; nothing but longing, desire and need shine through.
Still, he has to ask. "You sure?"
She smiles sweetly and nods gently as she kisses him once again. When she pulls back, he swipes the tip of his nose against hers and bends slightly to pick her up and carry her down the hall.
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"I've got to say," Andy states through labored breaths, "that was one hell of a first kiss."
"Oh, so that one counted, huh?" Sam asks, playfully, while trying to get ahold of his own breathing and shifting onto his side to get a better view of her.
"Well," Andy shrugs, "You did buy me dinner." Shifting her body towards his as well, she continues. "Plus, it was really good."
"Yeah?" Sam asks more seriously than he intends to. "The dinner or the kiss or…"
"Everything," she cuts him off, reassuringly. "All of it."
He uses his arms around her waist to pull her even closer to him before he kisses her quickly, once again. "Just good?" he goads her.
"I think I said 'really good'," she teases him around a giggle.
His only response is to pull her in and kiss her again, passionately. She looks directly into his eyes when they break apart. The intensity of the way he's staring back at her, well - Andy is pretty sure she's never felt so… valued before.
"Best first kiss ever," she whispers, emphatically, into his ear.
Sam leans down into her again, and brushes his nose over hers once more. Then he whispers something against her lips that reaches all the way to her belly. Her heart. Every fiber of her being.
He says it as a statement of fact, but to her, it sounds like a lot more.
Like a gentle warning.
Like a declaration.
Like a promise.
His warm breath tickles her chin and his husky inflection sends shivers down her back before his lips latch to hers once more.
"Your last first kiss, McNally."
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E/N: I had a really hard time writing the actual 'date' part of this, but I finally came up with something I hope did it justice. Let me know what you thought, please!
Thanks again!