A/N: They're at the cabin, and you'll have to forgive me for having been a tease and the way I've drawn things out. I have a bad habit. It's coming though.

"We could play twenty questions?" Andy suggested, picking at her nail bed, pushing back her cuticles.

"I think you've asked me more than twenty questions since we met, McNally."

"Yeah, maybe, but when you play twenty questions, they aren't personal questions. It's an investigative game you know? I thought it'd be more fun to play with you. A challenge."

"Why don't we just take it easy for now. Maybe on the way back."

If she was being honest, she was anticipating the prospect of getting there so much, she had hardly thought about... after.

"Hey, are you okay?" Andy asked, running her hand over Sam's shoulder while he drove.

Ever since he picked her up that afternoon, he hadn't been himself. He was dawning sunglasses and water instead of a coffee, his sunglasses hadn't come off once, and his eyebrows were drawn together - she guessed that he was squinting. She'd think he was hung-over, but it was late last night when he left and he was practically dead on his feet. Grabbing a drink on the way home seemed unlikely.

"Yeah, yeah, just a headache." He insisted, trying to shoot her a smile, but it came off as more of a grimace.

"You sure? I can drive if you want." She offered, sliding a little closer on the bench of the truck once they pulled up to a red light.

"I'm okay, Andy."

Andy moved one hand to his neck, digging her fingers in, hoping to relieve some tension. He leaned back into her touch a bit, but he hardly relaxed. She let him concentrate on driving and turned the radio down a little. Her eyes darted to the other cup holder in the console and saw a bottle of Tylenol. She worried her lip a little under her top row of teeth, but said nothing, letting him focus and continuing to rub his neck.

They drove on the open highway for just over an hour before taking an exit to a wooded area, passing under giant firs that had been there longer than civilization. The sun that made it through the gaps of tree branches that veiled the road, it caught every particle in the air, rising off the pavement in this heat. One turn onto a wide dirt road, and two turns after that, and they were following two lines of mud, just far enough apart to know that this road had been well worn in by the cars to make their way down here before them. Eventually there was a small clearing, and a log cabin sitting pretty in the middle of a ring of forest.

"We don't have to stop for anything? No food?" She asked, surprised that it hadn't been too long a trip.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, actually, and she suddenly felt - unprepared, almost. Like there were steps of a plan to be followed, so she could confront being alone with him, completely alone, for the first time. It was as though they were in a whole new world, just sitting in their seats, driving up to the house. Completely cut off. She was almost scared she'd forget how to talk to him. Her chest felt heavy as she looked at the house.

"Coolers in the back. Stocked up for two days. And Oliver's pantry is probably in good shape."

The cabin was on a bit of a platform, built slightly above ground, with a deck out front where large chairs sat facing the more open part of the woods - where the trees were thin enough to watch kids run around. He said Oliver had kids, two with one more on the way. The trees were further apart and the lowest branches a hundred feet up - logs from fallen trees covered in moss every few yards - an open glen.

He opened his door and she snapped out of her daze, reaching into the backseat to grab her small bag, taking her time as her feet hit the ground, to be sure her legs wouldn't give out beneath her. The mossy grass under her boots was like the feeling of sore feet sinking into soft carpet after a long day. It reminded her of camping in the late summer/brink of fall when she was a kid.

There were birds hiding in the trees, chattering, not singing just squawking and the wind was light, pushing through a breeze every so often, that was muted in the thick of the forest.

"C'mon."

Andy snapped her head down from the tops of the trees where they met the sky back to Sam's to see him closer to the stairs up to the deck, holding his hand out to her. She continued looking around while her feet carried her closer to him, and she placed her hand limply in his, only holding on when he gave her a squeeze.

The front door was two French doors, opening up into the cabin, shielded by soft white curtains that got caught up in the breeze when Sam pushed them all the way open.

"Should probably air it out a bit." He said.

As she peeked around at the furniture and the small kitchen off to the side, she noticed it was much nicer than she was anticipating; not as rustic as she had made it out to be in her head. The kitchen had a large fridge and relatively new looking stove. Nothing stainless steel. The windows were all large - nothing resembling a shutter - and the skylight in the open living room made it seem as bright as it was outside under the sun. There was a well used L-shaped couch facing a TV, not too old, but what looked like maybe it was brought to the cabin when the owners bought a flat screen for their living room.

There was narrow hallway way a little further in, what she assumed would lead to the bedrooms and the bathroom, but she was content to look around the front of the cabin a little while longer. The floor boards under foot were oak, and well cared for, not many scratches or marks, though she thought with all the burnouts Boo could do, he'd cause some damage. Sam was moving into the kitchen, opening the windows up, and she trailed behind him, stepping without purpose. There were cabinets lining the walls, making for a lot of storage in the small corner space, and no dish washer, as she expected. The pots and pans hung on a rack above the small square island in the middle, not meant for eating around, but extra counter space. There was however, a breakfast nook. In the other corner space, along the front of the cabin wall, a small booth seat had been put in and two chairs sat at the open ends, a great view of the forest from three of the four sides.

Sam was moving around so quickly, and he still hadn't taken of his sunglasses, even as he disappeared down the darker hallway where the skylights brightness couldn't reach. Their bags were gone, so she assumed he brought them with him. She decided she'd taken in all she could from the first rooms and followed him in, not before seeing an old embroidered portrait on the wall between the kitchen and the hall.

'Home is where the heart is,' it read, with a small brick house below it, smoke coming out the chimney.

It was something she'd expect to see in Ruth's house. She didn't notice the initials in the corner.

"It's a great place," Andy said, having spent a minute in the doorway watching Sam open the window and turn down the bed for later. "I'll have to remember to write Oliver a thank-you card."

She stuffed her hands in her shorts pockets, nervous when she noticed that the frown hadn't dissipated from Sam's face. But he'd finally taken off his shades.

He glanced up and back down quickly like it were an interruption to his mission before he realized she was waiting on him. He took a deep breath, and stopped fussing with the duvet, putting it back down and stepped around the bed and made his way to her.

"You know we're like, on vacation right? No stress, nobody else. What's going on with you?" She asked quietly as he sat down on the edge of the bed, holding her hands in his.

"I know I've been weird today. I woke up with a bad headache, and it's not going away. I really wanted this weekend to be perfect, but all I can think about is being in a dark room and getting over this thing. I'm sorry." He said a little gruffly, clearly annoyed with himself.

She ran her hand through his hair, scratching a little at his scalp and he relaxed a bit, pulling her between his legs so she'd keep doing it while he was eye level with her stomach.

"Nothing to be sorry about. I know you'd love to be feeling 100%. If you were, we would be naked by now." Andy laughed sincerely.

In all honesty, she was kind of glad things weren't frenzied and charged right now. They'd done that. And it was great, but this time, it wouldn't have to be.

"Don't remind me." Sam said, eyes looking her up and down with regret shining in his eyes.

"We've got two more days. It'll go away." She insisted, meaning it. No pressure tonight was probably a good thing. "How about this, I'll get dinner going, and you close the blinds in here and rest a bit."

He didn't look too happy at her suggestion, but he did need it. And pushing this pain wasn't a good idea. So Sam nodded and scrubbed a hand over his face, looked back at the ready bed, and began to lean back.

"I'll get you around six."

It was four when she walked out of the bedroom, swinging her arms back and forth, fully extended. She familiarized herself with the kitchen and where everything was kept. The cooler still had to be brought inside, so she wrestled it upstairs and started putting things in the fridge and freezer, all the while making note of what she could make them. Sam was the superior cook, so she figured she wouldn't dare try anything to fancy, but something she knew she could make well.

She mindlessly cut vegetables for a salad while she marinated the chicken breasts, and while she was waiting for them to bake she found a show to watch quietly. And when the timer on the oven went for the chicken and she pulled it out to let it cool, she slipped silently down to the master bedroom to wake Sam.

He'd taken off his tee shirt and jeans and them folded on the chair by the window. He lay on the bed on his stomach, facing away from the door, his arms up and under the pillow, hugging it tightly.

The dark curtains blocked out all the sunlight and it was pitch black except for the light coming in from the rest of the house behind her.

Andy was tempted to just crawl in next to him and shut her eyes. She'd had trouble sleeping the night before. But she was able to resist. Walked around the bed and crouched down next to it, perfectly at eye level.

"Hey, sleepy head." She whispered, shaking his shoulder gently. "Time to get some food in you."

He raised his head quickly, eyes still closed, and he slowly pried one open, then the other. Andy watched him slowly remember where he was and then after a few brief moments, he squinted again and brought a hand to his temples.

"Shit."

"Didn't help?" She asked, more concerned now than before.

Sam shook his head and pushed himself to a sitting position, putting his head in his hands.

"I'll get you some water."

"No, no, I'm coming, I'm getting up."

"Sam, you should stay here."

"We're having dinner together, Andy. I can't just sleep when I brought you here."

"Sam."

"I'm serious, let's just, have dinner and maybe I'll be feeling better?"

Andy looked so calm to him. She didn't appear disappointed in anyway, and he was confused by it. He had this all planned out and it wasn't going the way he wanted it to, at all. But here she was, crouched on the floor, content with letting him rest when it was the last thing he wanted to do.

She pulled herself up and sat next to him, searching for a hand to hold.

"Sam, I know we've been so anxious to just be alone together, and I know that this isn't what either of us pictured so far. But, we've got time. And I don't care if this is it for tonight. If we just eat dinner and watch TV and go to bed early... it doesn't matter. We're here. We've got all weekend."

She said it so confidently and sincerely that he was finally able to stop feeling like he robbed her of something. Her eyes were watching him carefully, hoping he accepted that what she was saying was the truth and when he nodded in agreement she sighed happily.

"C'mon. It's getting cold."

And that was more or less how their night went. Andy pulled all the curtains shut, and they sat in the nook with the dinner she prepared, speaking softly to one another, her having to cover her mouth so she didn't bark out a laugh. He put the dishes in the sink, and told her to leave them for the morning, he'd take care of them. They watched the end of some Rachel McAdams rom-com and then went into the bedroom, hands clasped tightly together.

She'd made sure he stuck to water and took Tylenol every few hours, and was all around alright with looking after him. But now - now it was time for bed. To share a bed. And she'd left one crucial thing off of her packing list. Sam took his toothbrush and pyjama bottoms into the bathroom first, figuring she'd need more time with her ritual and she sat there, trying to figure out a way to tell him she hadn't worried with pyjamas.

"Your turn." He'd said, coming out of the bathroom, still in the process of putting on his white tee.

She continued sitting on the bed, wishing she'd at least brought one baggy tee-shirt. That and her boy shorts would be fine. But just her underwear? 'when sam was in no condition to do anything? It seemed like a bad idea.

"Can I, um. Can I borrow your shirt?" She asked, trying to sound distracted as she grabbed her toiletry bag from her duffel.

He laid back on the bed, letting out a deep breath while he got situated.

"What for?"

She shouldn't have waited until he was taking a drink of water, but it took a long time to choke out.

"I didn't really pack anything for... bed."

He choked a little and once it went down, he coughed hard.

"What?"

"I didn't- I didn't think it would matter." She admitted without elaboration.

All Sam could do was nod. What else was there to say?

When she came back out of the bathroom ten minutes later in his navy shirt, he was still sitting up against the headboard, flipping through a book he brought along, but the sight of her drowning in his shirt sure distracted him.

She wasn't drastically smaller than him or anything, and it didn't even fall too long on her frame, but she was narrower than him. There was a certain way it had to hang for both her shoulders to keep covered, but she didn't seem to care when it slipped. Her legs, one of his favourite parts of her to fixate on were perfectly framed by that shirt and the cut of underwear that accompanied it.

"Again, sorry, I just thought... you know."

"Yeah, I wish." He said while she moved around the room, turning off the light and putting everything away. "Believe me."

Andy smiled at him, trying not to be too suggestive and failing, adding to the tension sucking oxygen out of her lungs. Her eyes flitted to the bed that awaited her and he'd already taken the left side.

"So that's your side, the left?"

"Yeah, I guess, but we can always switch, if that's your side." He said quickly, realizing this was something he could've waited for.

"No, it's fine, I don't have a preference. I'm not even used to sharing beds." She said, sitting on the bed for the first time, keeping a wide berth between them. Temptation, room for Jesus... all that good stuff.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. Well, I mean, I've been in other people's beds. Not a lot- I, oh fuck. I just mean I don't sleep well in other people's beds. I don't usually do sleepovers. Of any kind."

Sam chuckled at how easily she flustered herself, worried about what he'd think of her. He didn't particularly like hearing 'people's beds' being repeated, the plurals, but he couldn't deny that it was true of himself. It was just usually his bed.

"Relax, Andy, I get it. Just, promise me you won't try sleeping in the truck? I promise it's not comfy."

"No more blankets and pillows in the back huh?"

"Those are only for special occasions."

"Well, I promise I'm not going anywhere."

A/N 2: Eventually.