I'm having trouble with a multi-chapter fic I'm working on and this idea popped into my head. I thought writing this one-shot might help my muse. :) It takes place in S4. Sorry it's so short, but like I said, it's just something to hopefully help my muse so I can get my next story out soon! Let me know what you think in a review. :)

Also, I'm really sick of the Andy haters and Sam haters trolling around guest/anonymous reviews. Just Stop. To regular reviewers, I'm not talking to you so I apologize for this, but to all those haters, don't even bother leaving a review. Thanks.

Disclaimer: I don't own Rookie Blue.

How Do We Start?

Andy had been back from Project Dakota for three weeks. The first was spent bouncing between the shrink she was required to see upon her return, her dad and Traci. She used the week to try and settle back to her normal life, whatever that was. The second week she was back at work and trying to adjust to the changes. Sam was a detective, Noelle was still on maternity leave, Gail hadn't been suspended, Chris had been offered a job in Timmins and was deciding whether to accept it, and there was a new senior officer, Marlo, who Andy was already clashing with. It was a lot for her to adapt to, that's all.

Andy approached Sam at the bar of The Penny after her first shift. She wasn't sure what she was going to say to him; there were so many thoughts running through her head. She took a deep breath and decided she just had to rip the Band-Aid off and say hello. However, before she could get more than "congrats on becoming detective" out, they were rudely interrupted by Marlo squeezing in between them. Andy could take a hint; it was just another change she'd have to get used to - Sam moving on.

He followed her with his eyes as she walked away, but couldn't make himself physically move or stop her as she walked over to her friends. Truth was, he was afraid he'd lost her for good and couldn't bear to hear her say the words. Andy sat with her friends and downed several shots, ignoring the wide eyes of her friends at her alcohol intake. She forced herself to stay and chat for a little while, but quickly said her goodbyes and made her way for the exit. She heard Sam call her name quietly as she walked by, but she couldn't face him and handle the rejection he likely wanted to dole out.

From that point, they basically ignored each other for the next two weeks, with the exception of a few forced words when their cases collided. They misunderstood each other's movements and stolen glances, tried to give the other what they thought they wanted - space. Truth was, they both wanted nothing more than to lose themselves in the other's arms. But they were both too stubborn to say anything. So, here it was, three weeks after she returned and they'd barely spoken to each other.

It was halfway through her shift when Andy burst through the door of the station, a scowl on her face, with Nick following close behind. Andy, Nick, Oliver and Dov had responded to a domestic assault. They thought it was a pretty simple case and Oliver was about to handcuff the husband when the guy grabbed a container filled with pig's blood off a table and threw it at Andy and Nick. They couldn't duck away quick enough and Andy's right side was covered in the sticky smelly substance.

Sam saw her through the glass walls of the detective's office, dried blood smeared on her cheek and neck, stains covering a good part of her uniform. If her hair hadn't been pulled up into a messy bun, she'd probably have it all over her hair. He wondered what had happened, how she'd gotten hurt. And a tug of guilt had him wondering why he hadn't been there to protect her. He mumbled something to the detective he'd been talking to before his feet carried him to the locker room she'd disappeared into.

Her blood-stained vest was lying on the bench and she was unbuttoning her shirt when Sam walked in. He slowed his steps as he neared her and she didn't even need to look up to know he was there.

"You okay? What happened?" he asked. His eyes were examining her body from head to toe, wondering where she'd been hurt. Wondering why she wasn't at the hospital. Wondering whose ass he had to kick.

"It's not your job to worry, Sam. I'm not your rookie anymore," she said. She peeled the uniform shirt off her body, the clothing sticking to her t-shirt underneath.

"You'll always be my rookie," he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets before they reached out of their own accord to examine every inch of her body. His eyes didn't see an obvious wound, but he couldn't figure out why there was so much blood on her clothing.

"That's the problem though, isn't it? You only saw me as your rookie and not your girlfriend." The way he wouldn't open up to her, the way he pushed her away so easily, the way he thought more about spending the day at work with her than sharing breakfast…it all just made her wonder sometimes. Actually, it was something she thought about a lot while she was gone.

She sighed, glancing over at him before pulling her t-shirt over her head. She didn't care that he was standing there; he'd obviously seen her naked before. She just needed to get the blood-stained clothes off as quickly as possible. And, well, if he wasn't going to leave, then she was going to strip in front of him.

"McNally, you were...you were both. And I didn't know how to handle that," he admitted. They had spent so much time together when their relationship started that lines were blurred. He didn't know where work ended and their personal life began, and vice versa. For someone who was a self-proclaimed commitment-phobe, it had been overwhelming.

She removed her boots and pants, thankful the blood didn't soak through the thick polyester of her pants. Still, her uniform was probably ruined. The only think keeping Sam focused as she undressed was that he could confirm with his own eyes there wasn't an injury anywhere on her body.

"I guess I really didn't either," she said, pulling on her spare uniform pants. "We know too well how to push each other's buttons."

She grabbed a washcloth out of her locker and walked over to the sink in her sports bra and pants. There wasn't a lot of blood on her skin, but she felt disgusting, like the sticky bloody residue was all over her upper body.

Sam followed her, leaning back against the wall next to the sink and crossing his arms. He watched as she wet the washcloth and began wiping the blood and sticky residue off her skin. "You gonna tell me what happened?" he asked.

"A guy threw blood on us. The wife told us it's pig's blood, so guess I can be thankful it's not human," she replied, scrunching her nose at the thought. This was bad enough.

"Who throws blood on cops?" he wondered out loud.

"Apparently, this guy. He insisted he hadn't shoved his wife into a wall, but the crack in the wall and the bruises on her proved otherwise. Oliver may have made sure he hit his head on the way into the cruiser," she said, chuckling.

Sam smiled. That's Oliver for you, he thought; always looked over the rookies like a father. "You really okay though?"

"I'm fine, Sam, really. Oliver had the paramedics check us out, and they cleared us. I just feel disgusting," she replied. She continued to wipe at her side and neck until she felt clean.

He noticed she'd missed some dried blood on the back of her neck and along her hairline, so he pushed himself off the wall and toward her. "Here, let me help," he said, taking the washcloth from her hand. He wiped along her hairline gently, tucking hair behind her ear as it fell out of her bun. She closed her eyes when his fingers grazed her skin. The countless days and nights they spent with their hands all over each other rushed through her mind. It had been more than eight months since he'd touched her like this, the warm caress of his fingertips sending jolts through her body.

Sam felt it too, but didn't want to jump ahead of themselves. He felt like they'd opened a door when they'd finally started talking, but he didn't know how to walk over the threshold.

"So, uh, Oliver and Zoe are back together. He's no longer crashing on my couch," he said, making conversation. He ran the washcloth under warm water before wiping away the blood on her neck. The palm of his free hand rested on her back, while the fingers danced lightly on the other side of her neck. How he loved the feel of her warm skin under his hands. He'd missed it so much, craved it really.

"I'm glad they were able to work it out," she said softly. She loved Oliver like a second father and hated that things had been rough with his marriage. She also knew Sam had always looked at Oliver and Zoe's marriage as a model of a good relationship, and wondered how it would affect him if they got divorced.

"Yeah, they, uh, figured out the best thing was the thing they had. Sometimes, it takes doing something stupid to realize it though." He locked eyes with her in the mirror and hope she understood.

She swallowed thickly, understanding the meaning of his words. His hand still held the washcloth against the back of her neck and she kept their eyes locked while she reached up to place her hand over his. "Sometimes a lot of stupid things collide." She released his hand and turned around so she could face him and he tossed the towel into the sink. "Did they talk it out?" she asked.

He wiped his hand across his jeans to dry it as he gave a small nod. "Yeah, they did. They yelled, they talked, they got past the stupid stuff."

Andy leaned back against the sink, hands gripping the porcelain so hard she knew her knuckles were turning white. She was scared and feeling vulnerable all of a sudden, afraid of what would come next. "Maybe, uh, we could, you know, try the talking thing too," she suggested.

The corners of Sam's mouth turned up, but he was silent for a moment, knowing talking was something he was never good it. But he'd try. He'd do anything to fix what they had if she was willing. "Yeah, yeah. Wanna start with a drink at The Penny tonight after shift?"

Her lips slowly curved into a small smile, reminiscing about when he asked her to be normal with him. "I'd like that."

The End.