Author's Note: As always, thank you so much for your reviews. I really cannot tell you how much I appreciate that time that you have taken to let me know what you think of this story. I can't believe its finished! This chapter is extra-long… once I got Sam and Andy together there was so much I wanted to happen . I hope you enjoy… Please let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.

Andy giggled when she heard Sam's stomach growling. "Feed me," he mumbled into the crook of her neck.

"We're at your house," she laughed, "Shouldn't you be the one feeding me?"

Sam grumbled something she couldn't understand and pushed himself off of her. She watched as he stood beside the bed, searching for his boxers, and couldn't help but to reach out and playfully swat his behind.

"Hey now," he said, turning to her. "Keep that up and you won't get any dinner."

"You would never deprive me of food," Andy said confidently, stretching her arms above her head. "I need it for energy."

Sam smirked, pulling on his boxers. "What do you want?"

"What've you got?" She asked, reaching for his discarded t-shirt.

He watched as she slipped the shirt over her head and an idea formed in his mind. Before she could react, he had lifted her up over his shoulder, intent on carrying her fireman's style to the kitchen.

"Sam!" She yelped, kicking her legs furiously and beating her fists against his back, "Put me down!"

"Calm down McNally," he said, laughing, grabbing at one of her legs, "You're going to kick me in the face."

Andy sighed dramatically, but settled in for the ride to the kitchen, deciding that there were worse things than having to stare at Sam's ass for a couple of minutes.

They'd been together for a little over a month and Andy didn't think she'd even been as happy or as satisfied as she was right then. They had to hide their relationship from most of their friends and though it was tiring, sometimes downright frustrating, to keep up appearances, they made it work.

Sam deposited her on the counter with little fanfare. Before he could move away, she locked her ankles behind his back and pulled him close to her, wrapping her arms around his neck. He responded by running his hands up her bare thighs, gripping them and dragging her towards to him.

"Hey," she whispered, her lips close to his.

Sam closed the distance, kissing her quickly before replying, "Hey yourself. I've missed you."

She grinned, "You saw me all day."

He moved his fingers up under her shirt, rubbing small circles on her back before trailing them around to her front. The soft moan that his movements elicited from her lips made him smile. "Not all of you," he said, lightly pinching her to make his point.

"And whose fault is that?" she asked, running her fingers through the dusting of hair on his chest.

"Poker night is a non-negotiable tradition," Sam argued, even though he knew she wasn't really upset. "I couldn't let Jerry beat me. He'd probably make me shave my head."

Andy just 'hmmed' as he kissed down her neck, spending time at the spot behind her ear he knew always drove her crazy.

The previous night was one of the only one's they had spent apart since their first time together. When Sam picked her up from her apartment that morning, still slightly hungover from the night's activities, he had informed her that he didn't like it at all. As soon as their shift was over he had pulled her out to his truck, broken traffic safety laws driving home and had barely given her time to drop her bag inside the door before he'd fused his lips to hers, dragging her to his room.

Not that she minded at all.

"Besides," he defended, pulling back, "You were the one that told me go."

Andy had encouraged him to go, knowing he probably wanted the time with his friends. She promised him it would be fine, that she planned to go to the Penny with the other rookies and then have a girls' night with Traci anyway.

"I know," she pulled him back to her, "I just missed you, that's all. I've gotten used to having you in my bed, Sam Swarek." She traced her fingers down the trail of hair on his stomach, slipping her hand beneath the fabric of his boxers.

He growled into her hair when she touched him. "Andy," he begged hoarsely, pressing his lips against hers. She responded eagerly, kissing him, drawing his bottom lip between her teeth and biting gently. Sam wrapped his arms around her and pulled her flush against his body. She arched against him and Sam slide his hands beneath her, planning to carry her back to his bedroom and show her just how much he had missed her, again. Then his stomach growled.

Andy broke away and rested her forehead on his. "Food time now." she said, with a light laugh. "Sexy time later."

Sam sighed, bending his head down to kiss her one last time before untangling himself from her. "I think you're going to have to settle for take out, McNally," he said, peering into the refrigerator. "All that's in here is mustard and beer."

She reached to open the drawer beneath her legs, pulling out the take out menus. "Chinese okay?" She asked.

He nodded, flipping open his phone to make the order. "It'll be here in thirty minutes," Sam said, grinning mischievously at her.

Andy hooked a leg around his waist, drawing him close to her. "Whatever shall we do for thirty minutes?"

"Oh I'm sure we can think of something," he assured, lifting her into his arms.

The next morning Sam was still lying in bed when he heard the shower shut off, the sound making him smile. They hadn't been together very long before he had decided that watching Andy get dressed in the morning was both one of the best and one of the worst parts of his day.

It was one of the best because just as she did that morning, Andy would emerge from the bathroom wrapped only in a small towel. Her dark wet hair would hang in curls down her back and her soft skin would glisten with moisture. She would walk over to the drawer that he had cleared out for her and pull out underwear for the day.

That morning, Sam watched as she pulled out a pair of black lacy panties and a matching bra. He gulped. The getting dressed routine was one of the worst parts of his day because Sam would know exactly what his rookie was wearing beneath her police blues and would torture himself throughout the day with the image.

She stepped into the underwear, pulling it up her legs before dropping the towel that was wrapped around her. Another reason it was the best part of his day. She would always give him a quick peek, sometimes even let him touch her, before slapping his hands away and clasping her bra closed.

"Oh holy hell, McNally," he said, watching her from the bed. "You cannot wear that."

She looked down, frowning, "You don't like it?"

"Are you kidding me?" He asked, grasping her wrist and pulling her towards him. "You look incredibly sexy."

She smiled, bending down to kiss him, "Thank you."

"Yeah," he said, kissing her again, "that's why you can't wear it."

She raised an eyebrow at him, "Come again?"

"How am I supposed to work knowing you're wearing that? The only thing I'm going to be able to think about is how to get you back into that, and only that, again."

"So let me get this straight," she said, sitting down on the bed next to him, running a hand through his hair to the back of his head. "You want me to wear ugly underwear so you can concentrate at work?"

He nodded. "That'd be great."

She laughed, standing up from the bed. "Well, I'm sorry, Sam. I left all my granny panties at home so you're just going to have to control yourself."

He sighed, flinging the covers from his body. "I'm going to take a shower," he told her.

"Make it a cold one, sir," she teased.

He smirked, swatting her on the backside as he walked to the shower.

They'd settled into a good routine. Some days they would split up and go to the Penny with their own groups of friends, meeting up afterwards when one signaled to the other across the bar. Other days they would leave work together and head back to one of their places to be alone, to eat dinner and watch movies and just be together.

While they were at work Sam had instituted a strict no-affectionate-physical-contact policy, though he sometimes broke it by reaching across the cruiser to hold her hand.

She'd asked him about it one night when they were curled up on the sofa together, a blanket pulled over their legs and a movie long forgotten in the background. She'd asked him why he wouldn't sneak into the interrogation-viewing room with her or find a dark corner in an alley somewhere. She wasn't upset about it, he'd more than proven his attraction and desire for her, she just wanted to know.

His arms had tightened around her as he confessed that it was partly for discretion, they couldn't be open about their relationship yet and he didn't want either of them to lose their jobs, but also because it was hard for him sometimes. That when he knew they were in danger it was difficult to go against his natural instincts to protect her and get her out of harm's way. That the only way he could make it through the day was to separate Andy, his girlfriend from Andy, his rookie.

She'd furrowed her brow, "Do you not trust me?"

"I trust you with my life, Andy," he'd said, sincerely. "You are a great police officer. It has nothing to do with that. It's just that sometimes I have a hard time letting you do your job because I'm scared of what could happen to you. And that's not fair to you."

She nodded in understanding, then asked if it would make it easier if she requested a different training officer. He'd rolled her beneath him and convinced her that that was a terrible idea, that as difficult as it was when she was with him, he would go out of his mind with worry if she was with someone else. That even though he couldn't touch her he couldn't imagine not spending the day with her.

The day he told her he loved her had started out like any other. He'd brought her coffee in bed and she'd teased him with another pair of underwear. "I seem to remember that you like leopard print," she said, recalling the memory of the first time he'd walked in on her in the locker room. He'd growled at her and tugged her down to the bed, laughing, telling her just how much he did like it.

They'd arrived at the station together, barely on time, separating to get ready before meeting again in the parade room. While on patrol they'd gotten a call over the radio about a domestic violence disturbance. Andy watched as Sam's jaw clenched when the dispatcher told them that the 911-caller was an eight-year-old hiding in the closet with his little brother and sister. The boy said that he could hear his dad yelling at his mom and he thought he might be hurting her.

They flipped the lights on and sped to the residence. When they got there they could hear yelling and crying inside, but when no one answered the door, Sam kicked it in, telling her to enter with her gun drawn.

They found the man and woman in the kitchen and it was obvious the man had been hitting her. Sam's eyes flashed with anger as he ordered the man to the ground and cuffed him while Andy tried to comfort the hysterical woman. Sam jerked the man off the floor and marched him outside before rejoining Andy inside the house. "Shaw is here," he told her, "He's going to take the husband in."

The ambulance had arrived and the EMTs were with the woman, assessing her injuries. "We need to find those kids," Sam told Andy quietly, pulling her away. They checked the hall closets before moving to the bedrooms. They found the kids huddled together, sniffling and crying, in the closet in the little girl's room.

It was pink and pretty. A princess room. A fairytale, Andy noted ironically. So different than the nightmare the children were living through.

Sam knelt down, showing the children his badge and telling them he was there to help them, that they were safe. Andy watched as he coaxed the kids out of the closet, the youngest one reaching up to wrap his scrawny arms around Sam's neck. Sam lifted him and his sister into his arms, and Andy reached her hand out to the oldest boy. He accepted in hesitantly, wiping his other hand across his runny nose.

"Okay guys," Sam asked the kids, walking them through the house, "Do you want to go on a ride in my car?"

The oldest boys eyes lit up, "Can we turn on the siren?"

Sam laughed, "Sure buddy, we can turn the siren and the lights on."

He got them settled into the back seat and told them he'd be back in just a minute. Andy watched as Sam backed away out of eyesight, rounding the corner of the house. She opened the trunk to pull out a coloring book and crayons for the kids, and on instinct pulled a bottle of water out for Sam.

"Here you go," she said, handing the coloring books to the kids. "I got you a pretty princess one," she told the little girl, "and this is one with dinosaurs," she said, handing the book to the youngest boy. The oldest boy took the crayons, assuring her that he could help them color within the lines. Andy winked at him then told him she knew he could handle it.

She walked over to the side of the house where Sam had gone. She found him, bent over, bracing himself with a hand on the side of the house, throwing up.

"Oh, Sam," she said, moving quickly to his side. She didn't know what to do to make it better, so she settled for rubbing her hand up and down his back.

"I'm okay," he said, still bent over. He took a couple of deep breaths before standing up and leaning against the house, not making eye contact with her. She handed the water bottle to him and he took it, thanking her. Opening it, he swished some water around in his mouth before spitting it out on the ground.

When he finally did look over at her, the look in his eyes made her stomach clench. He reached out and grasped her wrist, pulling her forward and hugging her tightly.

How long they stayed like that she wasn't sure. "Do you want to talk about it?" She murmured into his chest.

She could feel him shake his head. "Not now."

"Okay," she said quietly.

He pulled away and looked down at her, "I'll tell you later, I promise. I just can't right now."

She nodded, walking him back around to the car. They climbed in and Andy watched as he plastered a smile on his face, turning around and asking the kids if they were ready to go. "Lean forward, buddy," he told the oldest, "Andy will show you were to push the button for the lights."

He'd been rougher with her than usual that night; gripped her arms a little harder, held her hips little tighter, pulled her towards him with a little more force. She didn't mind. He hadn't hurt her, not really. She was thankful he trusted her, trusted them, enough to let himself go. To lose himself in her.

Afterwards he held her against him, breathing heavily, his long fingers tracing up and down her backbone. She shivered, not knowing if it was from the cold or the sensations he had created in her body, and he pulled the covers tightly around them.

"You know how I've told you about my mom?" Sam asked quietly, hoarsely. She nodded, moving closer and tangling her legs between his.

"She was the bravest, most loving person I've ever known," Sam confided into the darkness that surrounded them. "You remind me of her."

"Thank you," Andy whispered, genuinely moved by the compliment. Sam rarely spoke of his family but she knew that his mom had passed away not long before he went undercover. He told her that he'd put off going under before because his mom had been sick and he didn't want anything to happen when he couldn't be there for her. Anytime he talked about his mom the love and respect that he had for her was obvious.

"My mom left my dad when I was seven. She moved me and my little sister four hours away from him to my grandmother's house and worked three part-time jobs to support us." Sam paused, hesitant. "I knew he had been hitting her, " he confessed, "I would hear them at night sometimes and I would see bruises on her."

Andy was quiet, sensing he needed to talk, to tell her about this part of him she didn't know.

"One day she wasn't there to pick me up from school like she normally did, so I decided to walk home by myself. When I got there I saw my dad's car in the driveway, which was weird. He usually came home just before dinner." Sam swallowed, "So I went inside and I found them in the kitchen. " His voiced hitched and even in the dark Andy could see his clear eyes beginning to cloud. "She was crying, pleading with him to stop. He was holding her hair," Sam continued, "And I remember seeing him use it to sling her into the wall."

"Oh, Sam," Andy whispered, not knowing what else to say, not knowing how to take away the pain of the memory.

"So I jumped on his back," Sam said, "and I punched him as hard as I could with my little seven year old fists, over and over again, yelling at him to stop hurting my mom."

Andy felt tears prickling in her eyes, her heart aching for Sam, for the little boy that had to go through that. For the man that lived with the memories. "You were so brave," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.

"I woke up in the hospital a few hours later, not knowing what had happened. I was told that my dad flung me off of him and I ended up hitting my head against the counter so hard I blacked out. My mom told me later that seeing him do that, seeing him hurt me, was the tipping point. She could handle him hurting her, but not hurting her children. So she called the police and while he was waiting for someone to bail him out, she packed up our house and we moved." Sam exhaled, as though sharing the story with Andy relieved him of a weight that he carried. "That was the last time I saw my dad."

They were both quiet, content to lie in the bed together and hold each other for the moment. Andy pressed a soft kiss against Sam's forehead. "Thank you for telling me."

Sam nodded, "When I see things like what we saw today, I can't help but think about my dad. About those kids who live in fear of someone who was supposed to love them."

"It's not fair," Andy whispered, agreeing with him.

"I was lucky," Sam said, "my mom was strong enough to pull us out."

"She sounds like she was an incredible woman," Andy whispered, absently stroking his back.

"She was." Sam cleared his throat. "Sometimes I wonder about my dad, think about why he didn't love his family."

"I know what that's like," Andy said softly.

"Your mom?" He asked.

She nodded, not feeling the need to say anymore. He knew her story, knew how her mom had walked out on her.

Sam rolled them over so he was on top of her, supporting himself on either side of her body. He kissed her and she reached up, knotting her fingers into his hair. "Andy," he said, his voice low and smooth, "When we have babies, they're going to know that I love them."

"Babies?" She asked, smiling shyly up at him. She knew she wanted a future with Sam, a family with him, but he'd never said anything about it, never mentioned a desire to have children. They'd touched on their future before, but only when they were cuddled together in post-coital bliss and letting their imaginations run, laughing and confessing dreams they wouldn't have under any other circumstances.

After seeing him with the kids earlier that day, she knew he would be a wonderful father.

"Yes, babies," he said, returning her smile. "They're going to know that I'd do anything for them, I'd do anything to protect them." His eyes were fierce with promise.

"But mostly, Andy," he said, bending his head down to kiss her again, moving his body against hers and making her moan, "They're going to know how much I love their mom." He kissed his way down her neck, "They're going to know that I respect her," and across her collarbone, "and that I treasure her."

When he felt a tug at his hair, he looked back up to her. He could see the unshed tears that had pooled in her eyes. She blinked and one fell, tracing its way down the soft skin of her cheek. He moved up to catch it, pressing his lips against her, tasting its saltiness against them.

"Sam," she said, her voice shaky. "Are you sure?"

He smiled down at her. "I told you before we even started Andy, I want all of it."

"Do you mean it?" She asked, knowing he would understand what she was referring to.

He nodded, "I love you, McNally. I think I've loved you since that day in the alley when you tackled me," he grinned at her, "and tried to kiss me."

She laughed and the tears that were in hers eyes fell, but she didn't bother to wipe them away. Instead, she wound her arms around him, pulling him down to her. "I love you too, Sam."

The End! Thank you so much for reading!