AN: Man, I can't stop with this story. The ideas are flowing lately. Let's hope I'm not jinxing myself... Let me know your thoughts!

"It's like he tricked me into coming home," Andy said to Traci over the phone. She was in her childhood bed, flat on her back, staring at the Christmas lights that lined her ceiling. "And now I'm just sitting in my room—avoiding him."

"Sorry," Traci said. Andy imagined her in their room at school, sitting at her desk while Gail, Chris, and Dov sat on the other side of the room doing their own thing. In reality, she had no idea where any of them were. She felt like it had been weeks since she saw them all instead of just hours. "I wish you could have stayed behind and come to this party tonight. It should be fun."

"I'm actually not too upset about missing Mike's birthday party," Andy laughed. "But it would still be preferable to eating dinner with my dad while he grills me on Sam and school."

"How's he doing?" Traci asked carefully. "I mean, you know, other than bombarding you about Sam and skipping?"

Andy thought about what little she saw of her father. He wasn't drunk when he picked her up, so that was good. She'd only gone into the kitchen long enough to grab a water and a bag of chips. She didn't notice a mess of bottles or even a stench of liquor. "I don't know," she reported back to Traci. She actually felt a little guilty—checking on her dad and cleaning up what needed to be cleaned up was why she came home in the first place. "Good, I think."

"Well, try and have a good time even if he is being unreasonable," Traci told her and she nodded to herself. "You'll regret it if you don't."

"I know, you're right."

"Is that Andy?" Andy sat up at the faraway voice in the background on the other end of the phone.

"Is that Sam?"

"Yeah, he just came over to fix the pool table. No one in this house owns a screwdriver apparently," Traci laughed and Andy started to imagine her—and Sam—in Jerry's tight living room. It was only big enough for that pool table and a tiny couch.

"Okay, I'll let you go," she sighed. "Tell Sam I miss him and his sweet, sweet loving," she teased and Traci laughed.

"Yeah, I'm not going to tell him that," she said and then she was gone.

Andy fell back against her pillows and stretched out in the shape of a starfish. Her bed at school was half the size of her bed at home. Sam's bed was bigger, but she was never in it unless he was sleeping next to her. Having her big, soft bed to herself was one thing she was looking forward to—even if just for the night.

"Andy, get the door," her father called up and Andy rolled her eyes. Was he drunk now? No one had knocked or rang the doorbell. Just as she was about to yell as much down the stairs, she heard the bell. He must have been in the kitchen, able to see who was in the driveway. "Dinner's almost ready."

The one thing her dad was always good about, without fail, was having dinner on the table. If he worked a night shift, they ate early but always together. She wondered who would be joining them, but she was glad to have a buffer, nonetheless. She got out of bed, opened her door, and skipped down the stairs to see who was outside. She smiled wide and threw the door open when she saw her father's partner on the other side.

"Andrea," he said, a matching smile on his face as he came inside.

"Ronald," she joked. He kissed her on the forehead and she took his jacket from him. "I didn't know you were coming."

"Maybe if you weren't locked in your room for the last four hours, you would," he told her and she rolled her eyes, tossing his jacket onto the back of the couch. "So, you've got yourself a boyfriend, huh? Or are we calling him your man friend?"

"He's not that old," she reminded him. "Five years is nothing."

"Hey, I'm on your side," he agreed, holding his hands up in defense. "My first wife was seven years younger than me. My third is fifteen. But, I'm not your father. It doesn't matter what I think."

"Matters to me," she insisted and he smiled again. "He's a good guy, Ronnie. A really good guy. Dad should give him a chance."

"He will," Ronnie promised. "He's used to Tanner. Give him some time, okay?"

"Yeah," Andy nodded, shuffling from foot to foot. "How's he, uh, how's he doing?"

"I haven't gotten any calls from bars or hospitals in the middle of the night in at least two months," he shrugged. "This place looks clean. Did you do that?"

"No," she shook her head. "But he's good at work? Not… drunk?"

"Not that I've noticed, kid. But I can't say what he does when he's at home alone."

"I know. Thanks."

"Dinner's done," Tommy said, peeking his head in from the kitchen. "Hey ya, Ronnie."

"Tommy."

Sam walked up the driveway hours later, not quite ready for what was about to happen. After fixing Jerry's pool table, he went home and Oliver informed him that he would not be attending any party. He wasn't in the mood and he had some Scandal on the DVR to catch up on. Whatever the hell that meant. So, eventually, Sam left on his own.

It was a quiet night, but it was absolutely freezing. So he knocked on the door rapidly, hoping it would get someone to answer just as quickly.

"What the-?"

"Hi," he said, pulling open the screen door.

"Sam, what are you doing here?" Andy asked, stepping aside and pulling his hand to get him in the door. As soon as he crossed the threshold, she had her arms around his neck and she was squeezing so hard that her feet were nearly off the ground. He leaned into her, placing his hands on the back of her thighs to bring her legs around his waist, and squeezed her back.

"I heard you and your dad had a fight," he said, whispering into her neck as he walked in enough to kick the door shut behind them. "And I didn't want to go to that party anyway."

"One of the officers in his division saw us making out outside your old apartment," she said in his ear. "He wasn't pleased with hearing about you through the grapevine at work. But we had a… decent dinner."

"He gone?" Sam asked, looking around to see where to place her. She didn't seem to have any plans on letting go of him—her arms and legs still squeezed around him. He didn't mind, but he wasn't as strong as he'd like her to think.

"Left a couple of hours ago," she said and a leg came down followed by another. He situated her on her feet and her arms untangled from around his neck. "I can't believe you're in my house. How did you know where I lived?"

"Traci remembered your street name, so I just rode up and down until I realized that your mailbox has your name on it," he told her and she smiled before standing on her toes to kiss him. "So, your dad's not a fan of me?"

"I think he's more mad that I didn't tell him there was a you," she admitted, taking him by the hand to pull him into the kitchen. "Did you eat? There's a ton of leftover meatloaf."

"I'm starving," he admitted. "That would be great."

He sat down at the small kitchen table, peering through an opening that led to a formal dining room. Covering the table in there were a bunch of documents and a few unopened bottle of scotch. "So, why did you come all the way here?" Andy asked as she fixed him a plate. Her back was to him and he heard some uncertainty in her voice. "I know Traci told you that I was fighting with my dad, but you didn't have to come all the way here."

"I can leave if you want me to, Andy," he told her and she whipped her head around, her ponytail swinging into her face.

"No," she insisted. "I just- I don't want to you bending over backwards for me. I'm a big girl, you know? And you've got your own life that you left behind to come take care of your whiny, little girlfriend."

"Hey," he said, standing up and crossing the kitchen. He took the fork out of her hand and turned her around to face him completely. "I know you can take care of yourself, McNally. I'm not here to take care of you. I'm here to be here for you."

"Thank you," she said quietly, looking down at her feet. He put a hand on her cheek and guided her eyes back to his.

"Don't worry, I'll be gone before your dad gets home," he promised and she let out a short laugh. "The last thing he needs to find after a night at work is his daughter in bed with some stranger, right?"

"I know you," she reminded him and he nodded before kissing her. "You don't know what you've gotten yourself into, though, dating a cop's daughter. He's relentless."

"But dinner was good?"

"It wasn't bad," she corrected him, turning back to the food she plated for him. As she put it in the microwave, he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, waiting for her to continue. "His partner came over to eat with us and to see me. It was a little tense between me and my dad, but it was okay. Before they left for work, my dad just said we'd talk tomorrow. I don't know what that means."

"Maybe, and I could be totally crazy, but maybe he just wants to talk to you," Sam said and she rolled her eyes with an exhausted smile before settling between his legs. "Maybe he wants to know why you didn't tell him about the awesome new guy in your life?"

"Maybe he wants to know or maybe the awesome new guy wants to know?" Andy asked as her hands slowly made their way up his arms and around his neck.

"Maybe both."

"Like I said, Sam, you have no idea what it's like dating a cop's daughter, let alone being one. He's got strong opinions and he's very persuasive."

"What, so he wouldn't approve or something?" He asked as his hands clasped at the small of her back.

"Are you kidding me?" She laughed, one set of fingers locking into his hair—pulling ever so lightly. He almost moaned. "You're an old man. You're an authority figure. He'd hate it," she smirked and he laughed.

Just then, before he could come up with a clever retort, the microwave dinged and she shimmied out of his grasp and set his food on the table. She sat down in the opposite chair, looked at him and then pointedly looked at the food. He sighed and sat down in front of it, remembering how hungry he had been the whole drive there.

As he ate, he could feel her watching him and every time he glanced at her, she was wearing a small smile. "What?" He asked eventually, pushing his empty plate away.

"I kind of like you here," she shrugged.

"Oh yeah?" He asked, looking around the well lived in kitchen.

"Yeah, in the room where I had my first kiss," she smiled and his eyebrows rose on their own.

"What was his name?" Sam asked, stretching his legs out enough to connect with hers.

"Cody," she said wistfully. "Oh man, you should have seen Cody. All blond and blue eyed. He was a babe."

"I'm really okay with never seeing Cody, thank you very much."

Andy laughed and moved around the table to sit on his knee. His arms went around her waist loosely, one hand moving slowly but surely underneath her oversized t-shirt. It was hanging off one shoulder and he kissed her there. "He didn't kiss me there," she said dreamily as his lips moved toward her neck. She settled deeper into his lap so she could wrap her arms around his neck and bend her neck back enough for him to do some of his best work.

"What about here?" He asked as his teeth nipped her earlobe and she shuttered—that was answer enough. "Here?" His lips moved across her jaw and she shook her head once. "Here?" His lips were on her throat and he left a wet kiss there. She grasped at his upper back and turned toward him as his lips descended and his hand went up, her t-shirt rode up in the process.

"He never kissed me in my bedroom either, you know?" She said, turning her head to get her own lips on the shell of his ear.

"Huh," he said and she stood—shaky on her feet—and extended her hand. He looked from it to her and let her pull him up. As soon as he was standing, he bent over and slung her over his shoulder, listening to her laugh. "Where to, McNally?"

"Up the stairs, Swarek," she laughed, patting his butt over and over again. "This is so romantic. It's a shame Cody never got to do this," she joked as Sam made his way up the stairs. He pinched her butt and she broke out in another fit of laughter as he looked around the top floor.

When he saw Christmas lights shining through a cracked door, he turned and nudged it open with his toe. Her room looked like her small section of her dorm—just enlarged. Pictures of friends he didn't recognize and trophies lined the walls. Her bed was bigger than his and it was covered in a purple and black comforter—wrinkled from where she must have been avoiding her father.

He walked toward it and rested her on her back and then he toed off his shoes. He took hold of her shirt and dragged it up until she arched her back and helped him remove it. "So, he didn't kiss you here?" Sam asked before his lips moved to the spot just above her bra. Her fingers gripped the back of his head as he moved across her chest. He could feel her breathing start to hitch when his hands roamed to her back to undo her bra. Andy reluctantly let her hands fall long enough for him to pull it off and then she was pulling him to her—her tongue tangling with his in seconds.

He pulled back so he could rip his own shirt over his head and she wrestled them so she was on top of him, hands on his cheeks, kissing him again. His hands ran up her back until one cradled her head and the other traced lines across her shoulders. He held her and used his legs to get above her again so he could look at her. She was breathing heavy and he hands rested on his chest. It took her a second for her eyes to open, but when they did, he smiled down at her. Her legs bent and he settled between them and he felt suddenly self-conscious. He hadn't felt that way with her… Ever. But being in her childhood bedroom and feeling like he didn't belong there was getting to him. He started to push further away from her, but her legs kept him close.

"No one's ever kissed me in this bed," she told him and his eyes narrowed. He remembered her telling him about the two guys she'd been with in high school. "You're the first and that's really okay with me," she smiled. He laughed, settling against her again, and lowered his lips to hers.

Andy woke early in the morning to her front door closing and heavy boots moving toward the kitchen in the back of her house. She almost fell back asleep until the arm around her waist tightened and she panicked. She flipped onto her back and removed Sam's arm. "Get up, get up, get up," she whispered over and over. "Sam, wake up."

Slowly, he started to wake up and it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. They were naked in her bedroom and her father was downstairs. They didn't have much time to come up with a plan. After they slept together once, she ventured to the kitchen for some water and to clean up his food. When she returned, he quickly undressed her again and they went for a second round. By then, it was late and they must have fallen asleep after a few slow kisses. She could remember it happening a few weeks before. Then, it didn't matter because they were in his room and her father wasn't going to be interrupting them anytime soon. Her father, the detective, was the main reason Tanner or Matt never even entered her room. Any sex was to be had anywhere else. She thought she and Sam would be okay, though, it wasn't that late when he showed up and her dad was working all night.

"Shit," Sam said, sitting up as soon as he realized what had happened. "No, no, no."

"Where did you park?" She asked, getting out of bed. She started pulling on her clothes and throwing Sam's toward him.

"Street," he said and she breathed a sigh of relief. He got dressed and looked around the room for a place to hide if it came to that, which it would because Andy could hear her dad coming toward the stairs.

"Closet," she said, rounding the bed to grasp his hand. "I'm sorry," she mouthed as feet started taking step after step.

He narrowed his eyes and shook his head as he got situated inside and she kissed him quickly before closing the door. As that door closed, her bedroom door opened and her lights were switched on. "What are you doing up, kid?" Her dad asked, a glass of scotch in his hand.

"Couldn't sleep," she said, leaning against the closet. "I was a little cold, but all my sweatshirts are at school," she shrugged and her eyes zeroed in on the glass in her dad's hand.

"My first one," he said shamefully and she shook her head.

"It's six in the morning," she reminded him.

"It helps me sleep."

"I bet it does," she said. "Can I borrow a sweatshirt?" She asked and he nodded.

Together, they walked into his bedroom and Andy found where his mess had been hiding. Bottles and glasses lined every surface and she squeezed her eyes shut. She should have known better than to get her hopes up. Her dad rummaged in his closet and came out with her favorite sweatshirt—a grey police training one he'd had since before she was born.

"Thanks," she said. "See you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Andy," he said and she let him kiss her on the forehead. She walked quickly to her bedroom, shut the door firmly behind her, and ran across the room to open the closet door. Sam was looking at her trying to hold in a laugh and she smiled and pulled him out of the small closet.

"How bad do you regret coming here?" She asked quietly and he shook his head.

"No regrets," he promised and her shoulders relaxed. "What are we supposed to do?"

"Give it an hour until he falls asleep and then try and sneak you out of here?" She asked, glancing back at her alarm clock. "I'm so sorry, Sam. I didn't think we'd fall asleep."

"Whoa, Andy, it's not your fault. I fell asleep, too," he reminded her, pulling her to sit with him on the edge of her bed.

"I feel like I'm in high school," she laughed against his shoulder to muffle it. "And I never even had a guy in my bedroom before tonight."

"Well, as long as you weren't lying to me just to get into my pants," he joked, his lips right at her ear. She laughed again before nipping his shoulder. "Kidding," he whispered and she sat up. "Sometimes, it's good to be bad. Remember?"

"God, you are a bad influence," she teased and he stopped her from saying anything else with a kiss that landed her back on the bed.