AN – Well. You can blame 3.13 for this chapter turning so serious! Don't shoot me…they did eventually have to slow down on the sexing and talk ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue

Andy stills, blinking a few times at Sam, her mouth just short of agape. (All these feelings that he's levelling at Andy in this short space of time? It's a lot).

But.

She's likes it. Like, really, really, likes it.

"I want my mess to be yours, Andy," he says – in all seriousness, and everything.

Andy straight out lunges at Sam as a result of that particular declaration. She gets her muscly legs and arms monkey tight around him, and her face right the heck up to his.

"And I want to be a part of your mess," she says, grinning big.

Sam laughs a bit at her, rubs down her side and gives her a kiss.

"Oh, you are already that," he smirks, tickling at her palm.

She yanks her hand away from him without thinking, pulls back to give him one of her pistachio ice-cream, wtf? looks.

She watches Sam's face change, probably white-flag acknowledgement that talking in metaphors is somewhat of a coward's way out. He takes her hand again, this time rubbing his thumb over her knuckles "we've already established that we're both a bit messy, right. And that things between us … have been…messy?"

She watches him watching her closely: trying to gauge where she's up to with all this (a little confused and anxious is what Andy wants to say…)

"Andy, I'm trying to tell you," he starts, leaning in to her again - kisses her once and quick on the lips.

He moves his body back away again before he carries on: "I want to come clean. To you. Okay?"

Andy can't help but feel even more nervous (she's not sure here whether he's talking about some hideous, dark secret he's going to land on her, or if he's going to let his guard down in a more general sense. Either way she scolds herself: he's telling her he wants to be open and honest with her, and here she is already forming judgements about whatever he might have to say).

Sam smooths down her arms - "I wasn't very fair to you… before. I thought we could just amble along in some happy place – that I could be more like who I thought you wanted me to be," he pauses with a swallow, looks desperately like he's fighting an urge to look away from her. He rolls his eyes then shakes his head – finally looks up toward the ceiling. "Wow. Yep. Verbalising this shit that's in my head is about as rough as I thought it would be."

A flash blurs in Andy's mind – the vision of her and Sam the night Leslie died. Sees very clearly their faces illuminated by fire truck lights – feels heavy with knowledge of all that had been left unsaid that particular night.

Still - she keeps her eyes trained on Sam's face now – is hit sharp by a new appreciation of just how important Every. Freaking. Single. Moment. Really. Is..

She squeezes his hand gently, whispers "I'm here."

Sam stays looking at the ceiling. He finally lets out a long, slow breath, and closes his eyes. If she wasn't listening really closely she would probably not hear half of what he says next, "I thought …that I...that we...could live with parts of me that weren't broken…. That the moments you weren't around ….I could continue along with fixing the rest by myself".

Andy feels profoundly… moved. In all their time together, she has merely guessed a lot of stuff about Sam. Worse still: despite the fact that Sam didn't talk a lot about himself, she knows now that she didn't do anything that would have given him a genuine chance. She was so busy propping him up on a pedestal, moving forward with her own lust to live her ideal… "I avoided the mess too, didn't I?"

He finally brings his eyes open and back to her, "I didn't want you to have to carry my baggage, as well as your own. Besides. Re-invention has always been my thing. You could've asked me anything and I would have found a way of interpreting the truth … without either of us feeling hurt."

Sam reaches across and pulls the last of his razors out of Andy's bathroom cabinet. (She hadn't realised he'd left a spare shaving brush or toiletries there – hence: her heart skips a beat).

He pulls her off the vanity, takes the towel off her shoulders and re-wraps it under her arms and ties it at her front.

"You didn't give me everything of you either…" he says, tugging at her towel to check that it's where he needs it to be.

Andy goes to speak, but shuts her mouth when he hands her the razor, choosing his next words carefully, "but you gave me a lot."

She's standing there with her right arm held up - the razor paused, looking down at them both.

He is quiet and sincere with what comes out next: "I've never given myself completely and honestly to anyone for a long … long time, Andy. But for as shit-scared as I am of being with you, I want that for us." He puts a plug in the sink and lets some water run.

"Me too," Andy squeaks, reaching out to stroke his cheek.

Andy watches him closely as he pats his face down. She doesn't move a muscle until he hands her the soap and the shaving brush.

"I know you probably want to know a lot, but let's …let's just take it one step at a time, okay. Slow and easy ….. like you with that razor?" he queries, all faux and steadfast concern matched with a tiny grin.

Andy nods fast, gives him a soft "yeah…Okay. Yeah."

"Okay." He leans back against the vanity, opening his legs so Andy can come closer in. Looks at her suspiciously, hitches a thumb toward the razor, "you know what you're doing here?"

"Sam. C'mon. I do shave my legs".

Sam's eyes flicker down the length of her. He murmurs "right, right. Well. Let me know when that is a thing that's about to happen again."

Andy laughs loudly at him – can't help herself really. "Do you want me to hurt you?"

She realises after an awkward beat that probably wasn't the best thing to say - he responds by putting his tongue in his cheek, casting his eyes down. "Sam...Um…"

He shakes his head and looks back up at her "S'okay. But … let's start there?"

Andy lathers him up - then stops dead as her hands start to shake. "I don't want to hurt you, Sam. I really, really don't."

"Nor I, you," Sam takes her wrists, his index fingers forming little circles on her pulse-points there.

He releases her slowly as she calms down.

She takes her time with the process, moving the razor slowly and gently – checking in with him every now and then. It takes a while with stops and starts, Andy occasionally feeling so overwhelmed by the intimacy that she feels off-balance in more ways than one.

"I do trust you, Andy," he says faintly as she's almost there. "I do. I just… it's… I have to work hard at it … at trusting anything or anyone, sometimes. Sometimes I have to work hard at it."

Andy stops again with the silence - checks that she has missed nothing. She bites her bottom lip, composing herself to ensure it's sincerity that is the only thing that could possibly affect her voice "well, that's one thing we have in common – so…. at least we're not alone?"

Sam smiles with his eyes at that, nodding his head minutely "yeah… I guess now…now...we're both here?"

Andy puts the razor back in its place, taking a towel to gently wipe at Sam's face. When she's done she puts her hands on his chest, moves them up, then further still delicately. Her fingertips go feather-light over him, eventually meeting up at the nape of his neck. His eyes shut as she continues a trail through his hair.

She can feel her heart hammering as she watches his face, her mouth opens slightly to help suck in some air.

Her mind though has a clarity she has never felt before, she thinks no further than that as she tugs his head toward her to get at his face. Their foreheads and noses bump twice and hard before he opens his eyes – their eyes locking together fiercely until…

She dead-set slams her mouth against his.

The kiss is open and desperate, like some kind of cyclone on fire. Andy moves and shoves her whole body relentlessly against as much as she can of Sam… to get….something….(love?)…shit. Anything…everything… through to him.

She stops suddenly at the moment her hands reach his face. She examines him for damage (he seems shocked but unscathed).

She backs off just the barest of fractions to let them both regain some breath.

They stare at one another – for seconds – before Sam reaches out for her "Christ, I really fucking am...I am so in love with you".

Andy goes liquid and warm, feeling a whole new kind of glow.

Her whole self relaxes into an easy and tender smile. She strokes her thumbs across his face, as she looks at him deeply and sighs "Feel free not to shave for another few days."