AN: This is not my first fanfiction, but it is my first Rookie Blue fanfiction. It is not beta read so I apologise for this. I simply wanted to get this first part up to stop me obsessing over it endlessly. I believe this fic will have three parts, all of which are set during episode 2x11. It's a series of a few missing scenes, so to speak. So of course there are SPOILERS for that episode and possibly vague ones for the last two episodes. I am writing this prior to having seen those episodes however and thus later parts may not fit exactly with things said/seen in the finale. I have the second part nearly written so it shouldn't be too long a wait. I hope you enjoy! xx Mara

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue. The title is that of a song by Snow Patrol and thus also not mine.

. . .

Just Say Yes

I.

He whispered her name. Her mouth, as his pressed firmly against it, swiftly stole the last syllable. His arms held him steady above her, the distance minimal. She was less steady, a subtly anxious, giddy tremble claiming her strong body. When his lips left hers and danced lightly over her temple and down behind her ear, she stole greedy breaths of cool air. Her chest rose and brushed against his. A touch he welcomed.

He slid his hands beneath her back and lifted her up against him again, her hands at the back of his neck and her hair falling behind her like a lifted veil. His hands crept over her graceful back and felt the band of her bra. With the feel of his lips on hers once again, she barely registered him unhooking the garment. Going with her, he let her back touch the soft sheets once again.

Sam pressed sweet, deliberate kisses along her collarbone and chest before sliding the bra straps from her shoulders. He pressed a slow kiss to her breastbone, his chin brushing midnight blue lace. His lips lingered, giving her a second as her felt her heart rate build. She wasn't alone in that condition. Lifting his face to hers, he pressed another kiss to her swollen lips, keeping his eyes open to look into hers. Gently, he pulled the bra from her and let it fall into the slowly increasing river of fabric on the hard wooden floor.

His lips did not hurry to continue their journey over her body. He placed leisurely kisses down the column of her throat, taking his time. Because he could, because he wanted to, and most of all, because she deserved to be cherished.

"The lights," she suddenly whispered between breaths. The first words spoken since his lips had met hers.

Lifting his face, he noticed her shoulders hunch ever so slightly in a surprising, self-conscious movement. Her eyes met his as he watched her. Almost overwhelmed, she closed them momentarily. When her eyes opened, she was breathless to find his deep eyes once again staring right back at her.

In his love drunk state, it took him a second to register what she asking. He looked down at the bright glow of her face and upper chest under the florescent light of the industrial apartment. She looked beautiful, but with a hint of anxious vulnerability in her eyes, he quickly understood. He hesitated, reluctant to leave and break the spell.

"Don't move," he spoke softly, not breaking eye contact. It was more a plea than an order.

She shook her head with an impish grin, before she saw his bare torso turn and him take quick strides towards the door. She saw his hand brush quickly over the light switch, leaving her in gentle moonlight.

Suddenly, a memory escaped to the front of her mind. She remembered his form leaving the room. The sounds of electrical interruptions he sought to put to rest. Her sitting up on his bed and reaching for her top with shaky, guilty hands. His return to the room. The resurrected darkness doing nothing to hide her sorrowful embarrassment. The look on his face. He had looked how she had felt.

As if to reassure him, as well as herself, that this time was different, she let her body fully relax into the bed. The mattress was different, the sheets a different hue. Yet with eyes closed, it was just the same as the bed she'd known that dark night. That same Sam smell, she acknowledged, turning her head into the sheets and breathing it in contentedly.

She was drawn from her reverie by the gentle, wave-like sinking of the mattress as Sam languidly eased himself back over her. He nuzzled her nose with his before pulling back a little and letting his eyes greet hers for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. Each time left them both a little weaker than before.

"You sure?" he asked as his hand lingered on her midriff, a shiver greeting his touch. In contrast, her dark eyes, he noticed, were completely steady as they looked into his. They didn't waver or struggle for focus. His heart was heavy with love and honor as he detected her complete certainty of this. Of them. Of him.

With a patience few knew he possessed, he waited. He still needed her to tell him. Her hands clung gently to his warm shoulders as she stole a calming breath and let it out instantly. He felt it on his face, the softest touch she could give. She continued to hold his gaze and answered with a simple, single word.

"Yes."