Author's Note: As always, thank you so much for your reviews on the last chapter! I am so glad that people are still enjoying this story and it really makes my day to read all of your feedback.

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.

"So is Andy your girlfriend now or what?" Lindsey asked bluntly, her tennis shoes squeaking against the tile flooring as she shifted her weight from side to side. She had apparently decided that the most appropriate place to hold the conversation was in the middle of the canned vegetables aisle at the grocery store.

It was Sunday morning, the day after Hannah Shaw's sleepover and Andy had to work, which left Sam and Lindsey on their own. When Sam told Lindsey he was going to the grocery store he'd expected her to beg off the trip but she insisted on going with him, just like she had ever since he'd mistakenly bought regular Oreos instead of the double stuffed kind.

She was helping him unload the grocery bags when she noticed the package of inferior cookies and then held it up, silent and glowering.

"What?" he asked, glancing back at her vacantly from the opened refrigerator.

She sighed and then narrowed her eyes. "You bought regular Oreos?"

He threw a couple of vegetables, a squash and an eggplant, into the crisper, clearly not grasping the seriousness of the situation. "That's what you asked for."

"Everyone knows you're supposed to get Double Stuf Oreos," She said, turning her nose up at the blue package. "I don't even know why they still sell these things."

"They're the same thing," he argued.

Lindsey looked at him as if he had not only personally offended her, but the Oreos as well. "Um no," she claimed, eyebrows raised and with a hand on her sassily cocked hip, "They're not."

Sam rolled his eyes but let the matter go. Later that evening, while they were watching television, he observed, dumbfounded but a little impressed by her commitment to the cause, as Lindsey remedied the situation. She twisted apart two Oreos, removed the cream filling from one and placed it on the other, and then reassembled the uber-Oreo, grinning at her own ingenuity.

The two leftover cookies, the top and the bottom of the disassembled Oreo, were tossed carelessly back into the package.

He didn't make a comment about it until the next night when Andy, who wasn't aware of their Oreo debate, twisted apart two cookies and did the exact same thing that Lindsey had done. Andy felt Sam's eyes on her and looked back at him innocently. "What?" she asked, her mouth full of chocolate cookie.

Lindsey glanced over to see what was going on and then looked at her uncle with a smirk. "Told you."

Sam, who had been crouched down to grab a can of crushed tomatoes, stood up abruptly and looked over at her, his forehead creasing. "What?"

Lindsey was lazily draped over the end of the cart, her arms bent along the inside, hands on the edge to keep the metal from cutting up under her shoulders. She raised an eyebrow and then repeated her question slowly, like she was talking to a child, "So… is Andy your girlfriend now or what?"

She reminded him of her mother when she did that; the arched eyebrow with the slow why-are-you-such-an-idiot drawl. Sarah did it all the time.

"Um," Sam hesitated, not knowing how to answer because he didn't really know the answer. "Yeah, I guess so."

He glanced down at the list in his hand and then pushed them two steps down to the artichokes before Lindsey could reply incredulously, "You guess so? You didn't ask?"

"I didn't slip her a note and ask her to check yes or no," he told her, squinting to read the labels on the cans. "If that's what you're getting at."

Lindsey rolled her eyes with such exaggeration that Sam couldn't help but wonder if she could see the back of her brain. "Boys don't even do that anymore Uncle Sam."

"Oh really?" Sam asked curiously. "What do you know about boys?"

"Don't try and change the subject," Lindsey replied quickly. She took a deep breath and then huffed, "It's fine if she is."

"Yeah?"

Lindsey nodded. "Yeah. It's just, you know," she poked her pinky finger through a small hole in the cuff of her hoodie and wiggled it around. "You could have told me."

Sam winced when he heard the hurt laced through her annoyed tone. "I was planning on it Lindsey, you just figured it out before I could get around to it. Sometimes I forget you're not five years old anymore," he told her, winking at the end.

She pursed her lips and looked away, not responding.

Sam stared at her for a moment, wondering what she was thinking, and then motioned for her to hop up onto the foot of the cart. She did and he maneuvered them to the next aisle. When she hadn't said anything by the time they made it to the dried pasta, he picked up a package of spaghetti and bopped her over the head with it. "What're you thinking so hard about?"

Lindsey's hands immediately flew up to touch her hair. When she was satisfied that he hadn't messed it up, she looked over at him and began uncertainly. "I don't want you to think that I don't like Andy. I do."

Sam nodded. "I know you do."

Her face scrunched and she looked away, intently studying the nutritional label on a box of jumbo macaroni shells. "Do you remember Greg?"

"Course I do."

Greg was Sarah's one and only serious boyfriend when Lindsey was little. He had a mustache that made Sam uncomfortable but overall he was a decent guy and at the time Sam wouldn't have been surprised if they had gotten married.

"Mom was really happy with him," Lindsey said with the faintest hint of a smile on her face. "And I liked him too, but I don't know…" she hesitated, "Sometimes it kind of felt like I was in the way."

Sam's brow drew together, the conversation suddenly taking a far more serious turn than he had anticipated. "Lindsey," he said, coming to stand in front of her and taking her by the shoulders, "Is that why you think I didn't tell you? Because I thought you would get in the way?"

Lindsey just shrugged.

Sam's mouth gaped open but before he had the chance to say something, a lady behind him loudly cleared her throat. He looked back at her and she raised a pointed eyebrow, nodding towards his cart. Sam fought the urge to roll his eyes, the woman had plenty of space to get by, and shifted his cart and Lindsey closer to the shelves.

In a way, he was thankful for the interruption, for a moment to gather his thoughts. Put him in an eight by ten cinder-block room with a perp that needs cracking and words come easy. Stand him in front of an emotional and insecure twelve year old in the middle of Sobey's grocery store and suddenly he goes dry-mouthed and tongue-tied.

"Look, Lindsey, you are not in the way," he assured her, crouching down so he could meet her at eye level. "Okay? You're not."

"I just don't wanna like… I don't know, cramp your style, that's all."

"Cramp my style?" he repeated, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice.

Lindsey's shoulders slumped and she looked away, embarrassed. "I know you didn't really think you were going to get saddled with a kid when you signed…"

"Hey," he said, shaking her a little to stop her train of thought. "Cut that out. Don't say stuff like that."

She blinked purposefully, trying to keep her eyes from tearing up and looking anywhere but at him.

"I am not saddled with you," he told her firmly. Cracking a smile to lighten the mood, he continued, "If anything, you're the one that's saddled with me."

She let out a laugh and then sniffed loudly. "That's kinda true," she said, running her hand under her nose, "You're sorta a mess without me."

"Hey now," he said, feigning insult as he stood back to his full height, "I got Andy didn't I?"

"Oh please," Lindsey snorted. "You don't even know if she's your girlfriend or not."

Sam began pushing the cart again, grinning, "What? Think I should ask her to go steady or something?"

"Oh yeah," Lindsey agreed sarcastically, smirking, "You should probably give her your class ring, too." Sam just chuckled, thankful that it seemed he had been able to diffuse the situation. They continued wandering through the store, bickering back and forth about what to buy.

"Ugh, Uncle Sam," Lindsey said, turning her nose up in the refrigerated poultry section, "Please buy organic chicken."

"It's two dollars more per pound," he replied. "No way."

Lindsey stood in front of the cart, preventing him from moving on. "Do you know what they feed those chickens?"

"Nope."

"They give them hormones and steroids to make them grow fatter," Lindsey told him with an air of expertise.

"And tastier," Sam shot back jovially.

She ignored him. "Do you know what those hormones and steroids do to girls my age?"

"Umm… make you too smart for your own good?" he suggested, raising his shoulder and making a face.

Lindsey scowled at him, not amused. "Premature puberty."

"Oh geez," Sam said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'm just saying, if you want me to start getting boobs…"

"Okay, okay," Sam interrupted her, smiling uncomfortably and quickly switching the packages of chicken. "Organic chicken it is."

They were standing at the check out till when Lindsey's eyes widened dramatically and she dropped behind the counter with a sharp intake of air.

"Lindsey, what in the…?" Sam looked around, trying to figure out what had caused the reaction. The store was relatively empty but he noticed that a mother and her son, a boy he guessed to be about Lindsey's age, had just entered and he realized what was going on.

His suspicions were confirmed when Lindsey poked her head up and quickly looked in their direction before crouching back down, gripping on to Sam's jeans for balance.

"You know him?" Sam asked, jerking his thumb in the kid's direction.

Lindsey reached for Sam's hand and shoved it back down to his side before nodding. "He's in my class," she whispered, squeaking a little bit. "Why is he even here?"

"You come with me," he replied, unconcerned that it looked like he was talking to himself.

"Well, you never buy the good stuff if I don't come with you."

"You're right, sustenance is highly overrated." The bored cashier rattled of the total and Sam swiped his credit card while trying to discreetly eye the boy that had gotten his niece into such a tizzy. When he disappeared into the produce section, Sam looked down at Lindsey. "He's gone, you can get up now."

She stood carefully, glancing around to make sure he wasn't lying to her.

"What? You got a crush that kid or something?" Sam asked curiously, something in his chest constricting at the thought.

Lindsey huffed and rolled her eyes. "No, I don't have a crush on him," she hissed in a tone that made Sam almost certain that she did in fact have a crush on him. "Come on," she said, loading her arms down with bags and making a hasty exit, "Let's go."

Sam glanced back in the direction of the boy and then followed his niece out of the store.

While Sam and Lindsey were enjoying their day off, Andy felt like she was sitting in the middle of her own personal hell.

Prisoner transport. Ten hours in the car with Boyd, five of those alone.

Boyd had briefed her on the rules for the transport during the first hour of the drive and then they sat in silence while she read over the prisoner's file.

"Ray Donald Swann," she said, reading from the papers in her hand. "Doesn't sound much like a criminal's name. Swann."

Boyd didn't respond which didn't surprise Andy; he never really went out of his way to make conversation.

The car was quiet again and once Andy had occupied herself by reading over the file three different times, she closed it and folded her hands in her lap.

The silence gave her time to think, which wasn't necessarily a good thing. Ever since Oliver had shown her Jamie Brennan's file she hadn't really been able to push the images out of her head. Neither Oliver nor Sam had gone into detail about Boyd's involvement, but just knowing that he had been at least partially responsible for what had happened to Sam made a fresh wave of fury rise in her chest whenever she looked at him.

Plus, she was dying, dying to hear his side of things.

She spent the better part of an hour talking herself out of bringing it up, knowing that nothing good could come of it, but in the end her curious nature won out. She spent the better part of the next hour trying to figure out how she could get him to talk about Brennan without making her involvement with Sam, or her knowledge of their conversation about her, completely obvious.

"So," Andy said finally, hazarding a glance at her training officer. "I hear you know my neighbor."

Boyd didn't even bother to turn and look at her. "Who's your neighbor?"

"Sam Swarek."

He continued staring straight ahead but his fingers tightened around the steering wheel, stretching the leather driving gloves he wore at the knuckles. "Yeah, I know him."

"Did you guys ever work together?" Andy asked, dropping her head back against the headrest.

Boyd cut his eyes over to her. "What'd he tell you?"

She shook her head. "Nothing," she claimed. "He just mentioned the other day that he knew you, that's all. I take care of his niece sometimes, you just came up in passing."

"He didn't say anything else?"

Andy shrugged. "Not really. I mean, he's not much of a talker. You probably know that better than I do."

Boyd cleared his throat. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, we've worked together. A long time ago."

"Doing what?"

"Couple of UC operations," he replied, scrubbing his hand over his permanent five o'clock shadow.

"Undercover?" Andy repeated, sounding surprised and a little impressed. "Wow, what kind of cases did you work?"

"Drugs, mostly. Local stuff."

Andy could tell he was trying to answer her questions with as little information as possible. "Anything I'd know about?"

"Probably not," he answered sharply.

"Okay," Andy drawled, realizing she wasn't really getting anywhere. "Undercover work sounds kind of dangerous."

"Can be. I don't think you'll ever need to worry about it though," he replied with the sort of vague condescension that she had come to expect from him. "You're not really the undercover type."

Andy narrowed her eyes and tried a different tactic. "You know, my dad was a cop at fifteen with Swarek."

"Yep," Boyd replied, flipping his sun visor down, "I know all about your dad."

Andy let the obvious dig slide. "He uh, he said there was one time that Sam came back kinda banged up from a UC op. What was the guys name?" Andy pretended to think. "James or Jimmy or Jamie or something… I don't remember." She looked over at Boyd with wide-eyed, innocent curiosity. "Do you know anything about that?"

Boyd shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Yeah, I worked that one with Sam."

"What happened?"

He swallowed hard, making a harsh sound in the back of his throat. "Sammy got in over his head, slipped up a little bit, that's all. It's happens."

Andy's hair stood on end and it took everything in her to reply with an even, "Oh." She knew if she continued asking more questions Boyd would get suspicious, even more suspicious than he already was, so she leaned back in her seat and casually asked, "So, why'd you go back into uniform?"

The muscle in his jaw twitched at the question. "I like working the streets," he told her, reaching over to turn the radio on in a blatant indication that the conversation was over.

Andy nodded slowly and then looked out the passenger's side window. "Okay."

Several hours later, Andy holed herself up inside of a small bathroom and turned the lock on the door. She checked under the cheap metal stalls, making sure she was alone, and then pulled her phone out.

Sam answered and, without preamble, she whispered, "Sam, guess where I am right now?"

There was a pause on the other end and Andy could practically hear Sam rolling his eyes. "Where are you?"

"The women's restroom at the Sudbury District Jail," she said quietly, covering her mouth and speaking directly into the phone as if someone might be listening to her conversation.

"Why are you in Sudbury?" There was a slight inflection to his voice, enough to make Andy think that she had gotten his attention.

"Because," she whined, "My plan to avoid Boyd today completely and totally backfired."

"That in no way helps me understand why you are in Sudbury."

Andy let out an exasperated sigh. "Today in parade they asked if anyone wanted to stay behind from normal patrol," she explained, fidgeting with her bangs in the dulled mirror, "I raised my hand thinking they needed someone at the front desk or in booking or something."

"Okay..."

"Well, turns out they didn't need someone for desk duty, they wanted to send a rookie for a prisoner transfer so guess who's ending up spending ten hours in the car with the person they were trying to avoid in the first place?"

"You."

"Yes, me," Andy grumbled. "And they've screwed up the paperwork here on the Sudbury end, big surprise there, so we've been waiting for almost two hours."

"Ah, yeah, well. That happens sometimes."

Andy held the phone out in front of her and looked at it in disbelief for a moment before returning it to her ear. "Really, that's all you have to say to me?"

"Did Boyd go over the rules for picking up a prisoner?" Sam asked, immediately going into cop mode. "Don't get too cozy with him, always assume the body is dangerous and treat…"

"Treat him the same as he treats you," Andy finished for him. "Yeah, I know. We went over it like a dozen times on the way up here because Boyd's really worried I'm going to screw this thing up. Look," she said, pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose, "I was hoping you'd be less like a police partner and more like a…" life partner was on the tip of her tongue, but she caught herself and then refused to think of what the implications might be for how easily that phrase came to mind. "Partner partner right now."

"Are you ever going to stop saying it like that?"

"Saying it like what?"

"Partner," he repeated, mimicking her tone, "Like you're secretly mocking me."

Andy chuckled. That hadn't been her intention but she enjoyed taking advantage of pretty much any opportunity she could get to tease him. "Oh Sam," she purred, "I'm not secretly mocking you."

"You're hilarious," he deadpanned.

"I'm just saying…" Andy continued, "I was half naked on top of you and you basically compared me to Dov Epstein."

"I'm fairly certain Epstein was the last thing on my mind at that moment."

"Fairly certain?" Andy repeated. "But not absolutely certain?"

"I don't know," Sam said and Andy could hear the grin in his voice. "We should probably try it again just so I can be sure."

"Yeah? Is that what you think we should do?"

"It's simple research McNally," he claimed.

"Oh right, of course." She smiled widely even though he couldn't see her. "I'm just kidding about the partner thing," she assured him. "I like it." She'd be lying if she said she wouldn't appreciate a bit more definition, but right then she would take what she could get. "It's nice."

"Yeah, well…" he trailed off. There was a stretch of silence, as if he had wanted to say something but then decided against it. "Why were you trying to avoid Boyd in the first place?"

Because of the almost overwhelming desire to rip his head off. Andy scrunched her nose. "Self preservation. It's kind of a habit now. Look, I should probably be going," she said reluctantly. "He's gonna start to wonder what I've been doing in here."

"What time do you think you'll be back?"

"Late," she answered, looking at her watch. It was almost four and there was still a five-hour drive back, plus processing once they got there. "Probably ten or so."

"You want me to pick you up?"

Andy was surprised by the offer and she couldn't keep the pleased smile off her face. Still, she answered, "That's probably not the best idea."

"Why not?"

Andy hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek. "I may have mentioned that we were neighbors today to Boyd and kind of made a point that it was nothing more than that. He might think it was odd if he saw my totally platonic neighbor picking me up."

Sam groaned into the phone. "Why would you even bring me up in the first place?"

"Did you forget the part where I was trapped in the car with him?" Andy asked incredulously. "I had to talk about something. Don't worry, I didn't say anything incriminating. "

"Uh huh." She could hear the uncertainty in his reply. "Fine, I won't pick you up but take a cab, okay? Don't walk home."

"I will," she promised.

"And come over here when you get home."

It wasn't really a question but Andy asked, "You sure? It's gonna be late."

"McNally…" there was a hint of warning in his tone.

"Okay," she grinned. "I'll see you later. Bye."

"Bye."

Later that night, Sam barely had time to get the door all the way open before Andy's launched herself at him and wrapped her thin arms around his neck.

He took half a step back, slightly thrown off balance by her weight, but then righted himself and circled his arms around her waist, chuckling, "Hello to you, too."

She pressed her face into shoulder. "Did I wake you?" she asked, her words muffled.

It was even later than she had expected it to be when she got home and although the porch light was on his house was dark and quiet.

"No," he assured her, running his hand slowly up and down her back. "I was up."

She sighed and then lifted her head, pressing her lips against his. "Hi.

"Hi." He grinned and then kissed her back. "Long day?"

Andy just nodded.

"You hungry?"

She nodded again.

"If you want me to feed you, we need to go to the kitchen."

Andy muttered something into his shirt but made no attempt to move. Her arms were heavy around his shoulders, like dead weight, and she acted like she was expending too much energy just standing there. Sam laughed gently at how pitiful she was, late at night and exhausted. "Okay, but don't get used to this," he warned, reaching down to draw her long legs up and around his waist. "I'm not your mule." She clung to him as he kicked the door closed and walked them back towards the kitchen, depositing her on the counter.

"What do you want?" He asked, opening the refrigerator.

Andy yawned and leaned back against the cabinet. "Anything, I'm easy." Sam shot her a wry look, smirk in place, and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Not what I meant."

"Scrambled eggs it is then," he replied, grabbing the ingredients he needed.

He pulled out a green pepper and Andy raised an eyebrow. "Are you eating too?"

"Nope," he answered. "I ate dinner like a normal person."

Andy wrinkled her nose and jutted her chin towards the pepper, shaking her head. "Fine," he said, taking the hint. He replaced the pepper and then pulled out a bag of shredded cheese. "Cheese okay?"

Andy grinned and nodded. "Always."

Sam cracked a couple of eggs into a mixing bowl and then handed it to her along with a fork. "Whisk," he instructed.

"I can't believe you're trusting me with this," she muttered, concentrating on not letting any of the egg spill over the side. She held her tongue between her teeth like he had seen her do when she was carving pumpkins.

"It's kind of hard to screw up," he said, setting a pan on one of the eyes of the stove. He turned it on, letting it heat up, and then took the bowl from her. He poured its contents into the pan and sprinkled the whole thing with cheese and salt and pepper.

Andy was quiet, watching him. "Where's Lindsey?"

"She's upstairs, asleep," Sam said, pushing the eggs around in the pan with a spatula. "So how was the ride back?"

"It was fine," she said, yawning again as she pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. "The guy we were transporting, Ray Donald Swann, talked a lot… all this philosophical mumbo jumbo nonsense about having a beginner's eye or something like that. I don't even know. I thought he was going to drive Boyd absolutely crazy but at least it kept things interesting. "

Sam nodded and used the spatula to spoon the cooked eggs onto a plate. "And Boyd was okay?"

"Yeah he was fine," Andy told him, reaching to grab a fork out of the drawer beside her and then eagerly taking the plate from Sam. "I think I owe you an apology though."

"Oh yeah? What for?" he asked, quickly rinsing the pan out in the sink.

"The whole thing with Boyd," she replied, stabbing at the eggs.

Sam looked over his shoulder back at her. "I thought we were done with that."

"We were," she said. "Until I saw him today."

"Okay." Sam dried his hands and then moved to stand in front of her, bracing himself on either side of her legs.

She hooked one of her knees around him, pulling him closer. "I saw him coming out of the locker room before parade – "

"Uh huh."

"And Sam, I'm not kidding," she said seriously, gesturing to herself with the fork, "I wanted to kill him."

Sam let out a sharp laugh, "Oh yeah?"

She nodded and took a bite before continuing, "I wanted to seriously, seriously hurt him. I've really only ever fantasized about killing one other person but today I spent probably eight hours thinking of all the different ways I could off him."

"I'm not gonna lie McNally, that's kind of disturbing," Sam said, running his hands up the outside of her legs.

"I know!" She exclaimed. "Trust me, as much of an ass as he is, I've never actually considered how I could go about getting rid of him."

"What was your favorite way?" Sam asked, not really sure he wanted to know the answer.

"Poison oak," Andy replied matter-of-factly and without hesitation. "Lots of it. Let him scratch himself to death."

Sam blinked. "Wow."

"We were driving through the woods, okay?" she said, shrugging and finishing off her eggs. "It was… inspirational."

"And a little bit crazy."

"Yeah," Andy agreed, "I know. I've disturbed myself multiple times today."

Sam grinned and leaned in, just enough to brush her lips with his. "So, what you're saying is…"

She set her empty plate down on the counter and the rested her hands on his shoulders. "I understand why you did it, okay? Why you went to him."

"You do?" Sam asked, nipping at her bottom lip.

She nodded and let her fingers tangle through his soft hair as she tipped her head back, letting him work down the column of her throat, "Yeah. I do. And I'm sorry I made such a big deal about it…"

"It's okay," Sam said, suddenly very interested in the spot where her shoulder met her neck. "It's over."

"Well, there's actually something else I wanted to talk to you about," Andy told him. His only response was to hum against her, so she used her grip on his hair to gently lift his head. When his eyes focused on hers she continued, "What would you think about me transferring to fifteen? In a few weeks after I'm cut loose?"

Sam stared at her for a moment, considering. "Is that what you want?"

Andy nodded, "Yeah, I think so. All my reasons for being not being there seem kind of…" she trailed off and then finally finished, "Well, like not very good reasons. And I know it may be unprofessional but I just don't think I can handle being partnered with Boyd permanently."

A small smile began to spread across Sam's face but she could tell by the way that his lips were twisting to the side that he was trying to fight it. "I think that would be fine," he replied neutrally.

"We might have to work together," Andy told him, raising an eyebrow.

"We might," he agreed, nodding slowly.

"And you'd be okay with that?"

Sam grinned fully. "Yeah McNally, I'd be okay with that."

"Good," she said, beaming. "I'll put in a request then." She tugged him closer and let him pull her to the edge of the counter before dipping her head down to kiss him, light and playful at first, deepening slowly.

"So," he murmured against her lips, "Who was the other one?"

"Hmm?"

"The other person you thought about killing?"

"Suzie Howard," Andy answered, squeezing her eyes shut as he kissed his way across her jawline.

"Mmmhmm," he pushed her hair off her shoulder and skimmed his lips over to her ear. "What'd she do?"

"Sixth grade," Andy said, the words coming out in a soft moan. "She pantsed me in front of the boys' basketball team."

"What a bitch," he muttered, taking her earlobe between his teeth.

"I was still wearing Hanes five pack, day-of-the-week underwear," Andy told him, her short fingernails digging into his shoulders through the shirt he wore. "People came up to me for months after that asking what day it was." Sam chuckled against the skin of her neck and her eyes flew open at the sound. "Jerk," she swore, slapping him on the shoulder. "It was traumatizing."

"Oh yeah," he said, locking her ankles around his back so he could lift her into his arms, one hand on her narrow back and the other firmly on her rear. "I'm sure it was."

Andy giggled as he began walking them into living room. "We have to be awake in like," she checked her watch over his head, "Six hours."

"I'm not going to do anything," he said, stretching her out on the sofa and grinning as she widened her legs to make space for him, pulling him on top of her. "I just, you know," he winked down at her and braced himself on his forearm, his fingers flicking open the button of her jeans, "Wanna see what day it is."