I don't own Cheers nor will I ever. No copyright infringement intended.

Eight months after his engagement failed, Sam came to the realization that he couldn't stop thinking about Rebecca. She was his best friend, true (he still wasn't sure how that had happened), and they had sex countless times, but he felt something for her he hadn't felt since Diane. It scared the shit out of him and he immediately called Frasier. "I need your help. This is Sam," was the first thing he said.

Frasier laughed. "I know that. What's the problem?" he questioned.

Sam took a deep breath, terrified of what he was about to admit. "I'm in love with Rebecca," he said after a minute or so of silence.

Stunned, Frasier himself went silent for a few seconds. "You're in love with Rebecca?" he clarified.

"Yes! What am I going to do about this, Fras?" he asked, clearly panicked.

Frasier rolled his eyes, wishing Sam could see the action. "Tell her how you feel."

"She's going to shoot me down!" Damn it, why was he yelling?

"You don't know that unless you talk to her. And yes, rejection is something that could occur but you need to make the leap. Tell Rebecca the truth. Maybe it'll work out." Truthfully, he had always thought there had been something more between the two, even if they refused to admit it (until now, anyway).

"Fine. But if this blows up in my face, I'm coming to Seattle and kicking your ass," Sam threatened.

"I look forward to it. Good luck, Sam." Frasier hung up and Sam glared at his phone for about ten seconds before he did the same.

Even though he wanted more with her, Sam didn't want to ruin and lose his friendship with Rebecca and that was a potential consequence here. He finally sighed and said, "Fuck it." Thankful neither one of them had to work today (he had hired her back at the bar shortly after returning home following his break-up with Sheila), he headed over to her apartment.

"Why didn't you call?" she questioned upon opening the door.

"Is that any way to greet your best friend?" he shot back, suddenly aware of his sweaty palms. While everything with Diane had been an argument, it was different with Rebecca. But he did want to spend the rest of his life with her, even though that thought terrified the shit out of him.

"What do you want? You want something, right?" she pressed. Getting back on her feet after her divorce hadn't been easy but Rebecca was thankful Sam had been supporting her every step of the way. She'd never tell him but she'd always be glad that he had been right by her side through everything. And she had returned the favor after the Sheila fiasco so at least they were even (and Rebecca had made sure to mention multiple times that she never thought they were a good match).

"Why don't you sit down?" he suggested.

Rebecca narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you here for sex? Because honestly, I'm up for it but I'm not exactly prepared for it right now. And you're still working hard to fix yourself so it's probably not a good idea. Damn it."

Sam laughed. "Not that I wouldn't mind making love to you but that's not why I'm here." And then he clammed up and stopped talking.

Rebecca noticed how nervous he was and it was starting to freak her out. "Sam, is there something wrong? You know you can tell me. I won't judge. Much."

"No, nothing's wrong. I guess it'd depend on your perspective." He was stalling and they both knew it.

"Samuel Malone, sit the fuck down and tell me what's on your mind," she ordered.

He listened and immediately dropped to the couch. "Sit down next to me," he told Rebecca, patting the couch.

She side-eyed him but still sat down. "You're acting strange and I'm really worried about you."

"I just talked to Frasier."

Aware that he was still stalling, Rebecca took the bait anyway. "How is he?"

"I didn't really ask. I really should have." Depending on how this went, Sam would ask how he was the next time they talked.

"Are you sick? Is something else going on? You're scaring me," Rebecca told him. Was something wrong with the bar? One of their friends?

"I don't mean to scare you. Rebecca, did you ever think about us being in an actual relationship?" What the fuck was wrong with him? He needed to come right out and say what he needed to so they could move on. Sam already knew she didn't feel the same way about him so what was he even doing here? He never should have listened to Frasier.

"Yeah, sometimes. Where are you going with this?" Rebecca had a feeling and her heart started pounding. Like Sam, her hands got clammy.

Sam blew out a breath, wishing he could drink something right now. Alcohol would make this situation easier but he couldn't fall off the wagon - he was doing so well lately and wanted to keep his sobriety. And now he was getting off track. "I'm in love with you. And it scares the ever loving hell out of me but I want to be with you, Rebecca. I think I was just in denial for a long time."

She burst into tears. "You love me?"

He started rubbing her back. "I do but it's okay if you don't feel the same way. Please don't cry," he pleaded.

"I'm crying because I'm happy you, idiot. I've been in denial too," Rebecca sniffled.

Sam froze. "What are you saying?"

Rebecca rolled her eyes. "I love you too, Sam. Of course I want to be with. And it scares the fuck out of me too but I think we can make it work. We've seen each other at our lowest. Many times, in fact. One of the reasons my marriage fell apart was because he knew I wasn't in love with him."

He started laughing and leaned forward to kiss her. "You have no idea how happy you've just made me."

"I have a pretty good idea." She kissed him back and caught up in the moment, they made love right there on the couch (It ended in disaster when they both rolled off).

Sam called Frasier the next morning and thanked him. In fact, Frasier flew in from Seattle eight months later to be Sam's best man and was named godfather upon the birth of the first Malone child. Sam and Rebecca were just meant to be together and they were grateful to be in each other's loves. All the failures had led to something fantastic that could never be broken.