This is a fic I started back in September, when my Rookie Blue withdrawals were at it’s worst. It has given me lots of grief, as I never intended for it to become a 30k+ story. After a hell of a ride I finished it yesterday and posted the last chapter on FanFiction.net. I have taken some liberties with this fic, as it’s a spun off of episode 2.03.
Synopsis; After Luke has been shot, Sam finds Andy in the Locker Room. This story tells what happens after that little encounter and takes you through various events in their life.
I will only link to it from here, as it contains M-rated sections, and is not suitable for young eyes. Please take this into account when clicking the link.
He felt a dull thud to his head, causing him to launch himself into a sitting position. Still a bit drowsy with sleep after waking up so suddenly, he confusedly took in his surroundings. A hotel room. Right…
A soft giggle alerted him to the fact that he was not alone and another soft fluffy thing hit his head as he turned around to look at the source of said giggle. He. Should. Have. Known.
“McNally…” he growled reaching for the pillow that had just bounced off his head.
There she was, his beautiful partner, sitting on her knees, a daring, mischievous look in her eyes. – He hadn’t seen her this relaxed for a long time. – Holding another pillow over her head, ready for another…
She giggled. Again.
“Andy,” he growled again, “I’m trying to sleep here.”
“Well…” throwing him a smile that said she was aiming for… “I’m not old man.”
He grabbed the pillow from her hands. – Thing is, they are in a hotel room. And in hotel rooms, especially the ones with two luxury double beds like they were staying in, there were many pillows. – So… she just grabbed another one.
This Rookie… Not only do I get stuck with her in a hotel room with her wearing nothing more than a pair of MY boxers and MY shirt. She wakes me up, throwing pillows at me. How did this happen?
A sting gone bad had caused them to not be able to get home, so they checked into a hotel after a short phone call with Vice. Not a shabby place, because they had portrayed a yuppie couple, but a fancy hotel with, as he had just found out, many pillows in the rooms. She hadn’t been as prepared as he had, which resulted in her wearing his clothes to bed.
This is like torture… She’s finally single, I’ve been pining for her for ages. But the past weeks have been hell. Frosty, that is… Hardly on speaking terms and now this UC comes along…
His train of thought was broken by another pillow being flung at his head. She was just not going to give up. If she wanted to behave like a child he’d give her a taste of her own medicine.
He grabbed a pillow and flung it at her, she caught it midair and started giggling like a seven year old, as her eyes roamed his bare chest.
“You decided to join in old man?” she teased.
He tried to reach for another pillow, but Andy quickly gathered all the pillows together and put them behind her.
For a moment he just sat there, contemplating what to do. In order to get a pillow he would have to fight her. Yeah, that’s why they call it a pillow fight. Scratching the back of his head, he got up from his bed and took the two strides over towards her. He was met by her goofy grin, her eyes twinkling with mischief. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest in anticipation.
“You do realise that for me to participate I will need at least one pillow. Right?”
“So are you going to give me one?”
“So you want me to…”
“Yup,” she replied before he could finish his question, grinning, “bring it on!”
He dove towards her, trying to grab a pillow. But she beat him to it, throwing herself over the pillows, while trying to smack him in the head with the one she was still holding. It was then he let all his inhibitions go. Grabbing her arms as he flipped her over, he pinned her to the bed. The skin that showed as his shirt rode up her body distracted him, but he quickly gathered himself.
Grabbing two pillows, he was quick to hide behind the other side of her bed. He smacked her in the head the second she turned around. The fire in her eyes was lit as she jumped on the bed trying to fling another pillow at him. He blocked it with his arms.
Climbing onto the bed, he noticed her staring at his shirtless body. Again. He took her moment of distraction as an opportunity to tackle her, pinning her down on the bed; pressing her wrists in to the mattress above her head.
“You ready to give up yet?’ he asked, daring her with his eyes as she was struggling to free herself from his hold. “McNally….” drawling out her name.
She was panting heavily, her eyes, big and questioning, staring at him. Sam was hovering over her, the feeling of her underneath him sending waves of wanting through his body both uncontrollable and undeniable. He took an even stronger hold on her wrists. She bit her lower lip in anticipation. He wanted nothing more than to…
“Kiss me,” she whispered, so soft he had to really focus on what he was hearing. And even then he wasn’t sure.
I’ll just take my chance.
He dipped down, pressed his body into hers and softly touched his lips to hers. Tentatively. Trying to read her reaction to his forwardness. When she didn’t object he put more pressure on the kiss. He felt her mouth opening the minute her whole body went limp. Left foot running up his calf, right leg pressing into his side.
“Sam,” she managed to breath out while he moved his lips along her jaw.
He stopped, the questioning tone of her voice startling him, and looked up at her with confusion in his eyes. Had he misunderstood her? He pulled back, looking at the headboard.
She quickly pressed her index finger to his lips, silencing him.
Turning over to snuggle a little closer against the warm body lying next to me, I let out a sigh. Last night’s events running through my head like a movie. Every movement is printed in my memory, every word memorized, every touch still burning on my skin. This is not what I wanted, but I’m enjoying it. A lot. I know it’s wrong, but I just can’t help myself. This feels good; this is how it’s supposed to be. He turns in his sleep, spooning me. The arms around me feel familiar, my memory taking me back in time. Back to yesterday…
I had to run to catch the train, when I miss my connection I almost start to cry. For weeks I have been looking forward to this dinner. This dinner could change my life. For years I have been stuck in a relationship that I don’t want. Only the fear of being alone is stopping me from ending it.
The minute I run into him my heart reopens. That one special piece of my heart is revived. I can only think of one thing, him. I want to know how he’s doing, if there is still anything left between us, but I’m also scared to leave the safety of the life I have created. The safe life that is making me unhappy. The safety of not being alone.
As soon as I have plucked up the courage, I pick up the phone to make a dinner date. That date is today. I’ve spent most of the afternoon in front of the mirror, wanting to look my best. When my boyfriend comes home from work, he hardly notices, walking past me with a lack of interest. We say our goodbyes, no kiss, and I leave.
I know I’ll only have to walk a short distance once I get off the train. It’s long enough to make me nervous. Very nervous. Finding his street is not a problem and when I reach number 43, I knock on the door. I have never been as nervous as I am now. My heart is thumping in my chest and my hands are sweaty. I don’t want to ruin my dress, but I’m pretty sure my knees are about to cave in.
It feels like ages for the door to open. The minute I set my eyes on him, I feel myself melting away. Again. He still has that effect on me. The smile, the eyes, everything is just right. Stepping inside I allow him to take my coat. My eyes following his every movement as he hangs it in the wardrobe.
“So, what’s for dinner?” I ask him.
“Pasta. You want a glass of wine?”
I nod as I follow him into the kitchen. The kitchen is long and very narrow. Every time he passes me he gets so close, my body reacts. Goosebumps, my heart skipping a beat. I know I should not be feeling like this, but I can’t help myself.
There is some heavy flirting while he is cooking. He touches me, lightly, every time he passes me. Every now and then I hug him, looking for contact. Physical contact. His body feels great, firm and safe. He is taller than I am and I feel safe being with him. I keep looking up at him, expectantly. The ball is in his court. It’s wrong for me to kiss him, but if he kisses me? I’ll be a willing participant. Not saying a word, I leave the next step up to him.
During dinner we talk about his sudden disappearance a couple of years ago. I tell him how it made me feel, him leaving without telling me, or anyone for that matter, a thing. He tells me why he left. Guns ‘n gangs needing him to go deep cover. He has been back to ‘normal’ for a couple of weeks now, still taking some time of to re-adjust to life.
I tell him how the past years have been for me. How it took a while for me to adjust to life without him, how I have always kept an eye out for him. Hoping, in a way, that I would be busting him again. How I would have loved to jump him in an alley and try to kiss him. Again. He smiles as he recognises his own words.
He wants to know if I’m happy with my life and for a minute I am in doubt. Should I answer him in all honesty? That he hasn’t been off my mind for one single day. How somehow I always kept up the hope of him returning to us. To me. I just tell him that I am fine. He understands. It’s code he recognises from when we still worked together.
He tells me that he has missed working with me. How there were days he thought the case would never be made and considered quitting, wanting to wear the uniform again. Wanting to work the streets. With me by his side.
“I love working with you.”
Nobody had expected the assignment to take as long as it did. Least of all the white shirts. But he was good, so good he penetrated so deep into the organisation that the whole operation turned in to a way bigger thing than ever was intended.
The openness of our conversation is, in a way, shocking me. Things are said that we would never have said before. Maybe we have matured? Maybe the time apart has made us capable of saying things we never thought we would ever say to one and other.
As I am washing up the dishes I feel his body against mine. His arms around me. His mouth against my neck. I turn around and wrap my arms around him. My phone ringing interrupts the moment. I decide to pick up anyway. It’s my boyfriend calling to ask if I’m enjoying myself and what time I think I’ll be home.
His timing annoys me. He has no idea of the fire I’m playing with. He thinks I’m just having dinner with a friend. He knows nothing about my hidden agenda. He doesn’t even know I am unhappy in our relationship. It’s my best kept secret.
I end the conversation, feeling a little guilty. The tension that’d just built up between us is gone. We continue where we stopped. I’m washing up and he dries. We stick to flirting, innocent flirting. Does he realise what I want? Why I came?
Once we are done washing up we take the bottle of wine and our glasses to the sofa. He sits down and I cuddle up against him. We talk and talk. Without us noticing we finish off the bottle of wine.
The conversation is good. Serious. Relieving. Finally I can vent my frustrations and he actually understands me. I understand him too. We finish off the next bottle of wine, the quality of the conversation decreasing due to the amount of alcohol consumed. Less serious, more flirtatious.
I take a look at my watch. 2.30 AM.
“Well, I have missed the last train,” I say as I refill our glasses.
He tells me he’ll be taking me home when he has finished his glass. I move in closer to him and give him a hug. Crawling into his lap, I run my fingers through his hair and I feel his goosebumps. He runs his hand over my back, rubbing circles.
“I don’t want to go home,” my eyes are begging him to keep me here. To not take me home.
“I don’t want you to go,” he sighs.
I look up at him, staring him straight in the eyes. That’s when it happens. He touches his lips to mine and I feel the butterflies in my stomach.
“Stay? Please?” he asks with a certainty. His voice is hoarse. His eyes showing what he isn’t saying.
For a minute I doubt myself. I can’t do this. It’s wrong. Cheating is not a word in my vocabulary. Then I look up at him and nod.
He gets up from the sofa and leads me to the bedroom. When we reach his bed our lips lock together. Passionately. We undress each other like it’s never been any other way. It feels good. Very good. Better than I could have ever imagined. All of a sudden I remember what making love should feel like. Finally. After all these years. I’m enjoying every minute of it.
Finally, after all these years.
“Good morning,” a voice mumbles in my ear. I look at him, his eyes still half closed.
“Good morning,” I whisper back softly as we find each other again. Lying against this, his, body is what I want, but I still feel a flinch of guilt.
“Don’t over think,” his familiar and comforting voice tells me. “Everything will be fine. We’ll talk later. After, breakfast first.”
He’s carrying a five star breakfast when he returns from the kitchen. The tray is filled with a warm croissant, my favourite flavoured yoghurt, coffee and freshly squeezed orange juice. All my favourite things.
Is it a coincidence? Does he remember? Was he counting on me staying? Had he hoped I’d stay? I notice my phone flickering and grab it, a text. “Where are you? I’m worried. X” I press answer and reply; “We have to talk.”
I turn back to face him, looking at the most gorgeous smile I have ever seen. He hands me a glass of orange juice.
“Stay. Be mine.”
After all these years there is only one thing to say. With the best feeling in the world, my grin reaching from one ear to another, I answer his question.
“Yes! There is nothing I want more,” and for a moment I don’t think about the consequences, everything that needs to be taken care of. I’m enjoying my breakfast, the company and the feeling of being with him.
A/N; Welcome to my first ever song fic. Boy did I underestimate writing one. I struggled, but had loads of fun. Writing this has been a very welcoming break from NaNoWriMo! While I was working on my NaNoWriMo story I was listening to some music by the wonderful Leo Kottke. Lost for words, I heard the lyrics to the song “Standing on the outside” properly for the first time. The first thing that came to mind was; Sam & Andy or Dov & Gail. So I decided to go a little tricky on this one. Writing both from Sam’s point of view and Dov’s point of view. I’m not really able to pinpoint an exact timeframe for this fiction, but it is somewhere in the time where Andy is still with Luke and Gail is with Chris.
It was a real challenge writing this story with 2 POV’s. But I needed a break from my NaNoWriMo, so I decided to just go for it. Let me know what you think of it.
Just a small guide to reading this story, as I will be switching POV’s on the run as I want both stories to merge and not having to write two different stories.
BOLD = Lyrics
Italic = Epstein
Regular = Swarek
***Sorry, no graphics today***
Disclaimer; I do not own Rookie Blue, neither do I own the beautiful “Standing on the outside” by Leo Kottke (Who is a great musician I must say.)
Just my luck to be assigned to the champion of permanent, senseless yapping. Even though McNally’s continuing babbling occasionally gets on my nerves, at least she knows when to shut up. Like now would be a good time for Epstein to shut up. The Tylenol and coffee I’ve taken to fight off the hangover this morning already wearing off. The process was probably quickened thanks to the continuous talk filling the squad car. There was only one way to shut this Rookie up I thought, as I turned up the volume of the radio. The lyrics of the song playing on it hit home in a hard way.
I wonder what’s got Swarek all worked up today. He usually isn’t that talkative, but this is just ridiculous! He hasn’t said a word yet and has only been scowling at me. The bags under his eyes might be the result of a poker night yesterday. Come to think, both Barber and Shaw looked quite similar to Swarek this morning. I’ll just keep on talking; he has to answer me at some point. He will have to talk to me eventually, if only just to bark out orders. What is he doing? Now this is just rude! Is he turning up the volume on the radio in the middle of my story about Gail beating me in a computer game? It’s a really funny story… Oh wow, this song… It’s just… Wow…
I’ve been on the outside loving you
Seen from far away
Every day that I live for you
All that I do or say
That’s just it, am I really on the outside? Every time I think I am entering, she shuts me out. So I think I am on the outside, yeah I’m definitely on the outside. And love? Do I really love her? Me, Sam Swarek? In love? With a doe eyed rookie? Well, she does make my heart beat faster and I do look forward to seeing her each day. But that’s not love right? I mean, it’s not like I can’t imagine life without her. Right?
Oh God, I can’t. I can’t imagine life without McNally in it. But her being with that douche Callaghan, it’s just painful. I thought he would have screwed up by now, but he amazes me. He is keeping tight grips on McNally isn’t he? All I can do is keep my distance, stand by and wait till he screws up. Because he will eventually. I’m sure. At least, it’s what I keep trying to convince myself to believe.
A/N; This is my last Christmas fiction, the first I wrote. But Unightfog decided to post it on the advent calendar today, so I complied
I really loved writing this story, it started off with about 1000 words and just kept growing, and growing and growing. And it has grown on me too. I think it’s my favourite story I have written so far.
To all my readers I wish the best for 2012 and of course a very MERRY CHRISTMAS!
Italics are thoughts. Mistakes in the story are mine, but some are very intentional
Disclaimer; I do not own Rookie Blue or any of it’s greatness.
“Hello? Dad?… Is anybody there?”
Andy carefully pushed her front door open a little further. She was pretty sure she had left the curtains open and the lights off when she had left for work that morning. When she got back to her house, their house, after shift to get ready to go to her father for Christmas Eve, she noticed that the curtains where closed and the house dimly lit. Causing her to approach the house with care, hand on the gun in her back. She had been taking it home every day since Sam had gone undercover.
She had drawn the short straw this year and had to work on Christmas. Not that she minded. At all. It was a dayshift and apart from dinner with her father she did not have any plans. Sam was deep undercover, had been for the past six months, and all her friends already had plans.
So spending Christmas in a cruiser together with Shaw wasn’t that bad. Since Sam left they had been partnered together at his request, and after getting used to the new arrangements she really enjoyed working with him. When they had learned that they were scheduled for a shift during the Holidays, Oliver had quickly requested the day shift, so he could be home in time for Christmas dinner with his family.