Hello everyone! So I kind of churned this out at a ridiculous speed because a) I promised everyone who asked a sequel, and b) I have a feeling we're all going to be needing some McSwarek love right before, during, and after this dreadful upcoming episode in T minus four hours (for us west coast watchers...it's T minus one hour for you east coasters).

So I hope you all enjoy this somewhat, and remember, please review! I really do appreciate them and I'll be needing some happy things to read after Landy tonight. Gah.

Sam knew he had picked the right topic of conversation when Andy's eyes regained some of that mischievous glint he loved so much.

"You did not shoot Oliver." Her incredulous statement was followed by a cheeky grin from her partner.

"Final day of the Academy, after we all had graduated. Oliver, the smart bastard, had been first in the class, and it was tradition back then for the person graduating first to treat the whole class to a round of paintball."

"Paintball?"

"Paintball. At Sgt. Platter's. Anyways, we were on opposite teams, and there was this massive barricade that his team had commandeered, but what Ollie didn't realize was there was a concealed perch that allowed access to a sliver of the barricade. So there I was, stomach down on this perch, paintball gun honed in on the opening, when a figure stepped right in my line of vision."

"You didn't."

"I did. I pulled that trigger four times, and hit him square in the ass. His yell was so high it could only be heard by dogs. He couldn't sit down without pain for about two weeks. And the best part was, our first day on the beat was three days after graduation, just enough time for the muscles to really feel the burn. And guess who was his extremely non-sympathetic training officer?"

"Who?"

"Boyko."

The uncontrollable laughter didn't die down until several minutes later, with Andy wiping tears from her eyes.

"I haven't laughed this hard in forever," she said between intermittent giggles.

"I know. It's nice. Laughter is the best medicine for a heartache."

"Hey, no mention of that, remember?" She stuck her tongue out at him, wrinkling her nose.

"Immaturity is a sign of drunkenness."

"I've only had one beer."

"Then you're a bigger lightweight than I thought. You're lucky I'm such a gentleman to not take advantage of you."

"You're a gentleman, are you?"

"Absolutely. I'm letting you stay here, aren't I?"

"Ah, so it's not out of friendship, but rather an old-fashioned obligation."

"Don't put words in my mouth, buddy."

She wrinkled her nose at him again, motioning for another beer. With an exaggerated huff, he slid a bottle across the table. "Consider this the last call."

"Yes, sir." It should have been weirder, sitting here, alone, with Sam, in his house, halfway to being drunk. But it wasn't, surprisingly. It was...comforting. Ever since she had moved in with...that detective, and especially since their engagement, her and Sam's already murky relationship had gone from flirty banter to tense, unspoken words. But now it was back to normal, whatever normal was. Maybe it was the buzz she was developing from the alcohol, or maybe it was something else, but she decided to ask the question that had been bugging her ever since their conversation after Best had announced her engagement.

"When you asked me if I was pregnant, did I look like it?" It was Sam's turn to choke on his drink.

"Yes, McNally, because the first thing anyone thinks when they see your toned figure is that you have a baby growing inside you."

"I'm hoping that was sarcasm."

"It was."

"Okay. Okay, good," she said, smiling tentatively. She wasn't sure if she should be flattered by his description, but she was. And there it was again, that damned shy smile of his! It was the same one he had given her when he gave her and Peck their phones (with cameras!) during the undercover operation at the club. It had made her want to hug him then, and now, it made her want to jump his bones, not even thirty-six hours after breaking up with her fiancée.

She needed to stop drinking.

"You tired?" he asked as she unsuccessfully stifled a yawn.

"No. Kind of. Yeah."

"Let's get you into bed, then." He stumbled slightly as she looked at him oddly from his choice of words. "I mean...you know what I mean."

"It's like 'I have no problem taking it off' all over again," she said with a smirk.

"Ha. Very funny." He walked around the table, and helped her up with an extended hand (again, she noticed how chivalrous Sam was...it was an altogether foreign concept to her). Her eyes rose to meet his in thanks, but the words died on her lips as she saw something skitter across his face, an expression equal parts mournful, angry...and something else she couldn't quite pinpoint. Still holding her hand in his, he pulled her forward slightly, and for a fearful second she thought he was going to kiss her.

Instead, his lips touched her forehead, a gesture so quick yet so emotionally packed she didn't know what to make of it.

"It's going to be okay, McNally," he murmured, brushing her bangs back from her face. "It really is."

Shit, she was crying again.