Chapter Text
Andy tossed and turned on his mattress and he wondered what the heck was wrong with it. Something about these sheets, maybe. They're scratchy or.. maybe there's something else under here. He sat up and scrounged around his bedding to see if the sheet was lumped up underneath him or maybe there were some clothes on the bed that he hadn't noticed before climbing in for the night. Nothing. The sheets were smooth, nothing rumpled underneath, and they were perfectly comfortable the previous night. He looked at the clock – 2am. Traitorous clock. Traitorous mattress. Everything was conspiring to keep him from getting a good night's sleep. Maybe not everything, he conceded. Maybe just that old coot he called a partner and a friend, his words echoing around in Andy's head every time he hit the pillow and there was no other sound in the dark room to distract.
"I think it has something to do with you."
"The two of you have gone out to dinner a LOT."
Man that little shit could push his buttons. Why would he say something like that? We're just friends. Well actually… are we? He found himself pondering when that happened and how exactly he missed it. Looking throughout their long acquaintance, he doesn't think he would ever say that he hated her, but the word friend would've been a blasphemous stretch on the best of days. There were plenty of times he would've loved to see someone knock that arrogant smirk off her face. Well, he'd wish anyone who wanted to try good luck anyway, recalling a few times he'd seen her take out bozos nearly twice her size in the hand-to-hand training sessions. She was petite, but wily and quick. Merciless too.
She was aggravating as all get-out most of the time and yeah, it was fun to take out frustrations with the guys when she really piled it on thick. Little drawings and nicknames helped relieve some of the tension when she was so infuriating. He could feel his muscles tensing over those thoughts, his lips in a thin line. Occasions for her to show how deeply she cared for her fellow officers were rare, but when they did present, it was clear she was one of the good guys. No, he didn't hate her, but there had definitely been hostile feelings between them 98% of the time, at least on his end. She always seemed so aloof and collected, but he knew very well he aggravated the crap out of her too. He was pretty shitty to her whenever he got the chance, which was fairly often and the few times he'd seen her lose her cool, it was a direct result of something he'd done or said. It occurred to him he hadn't thought of her like that in a long time, maybe not since the first few weeks after she became his boss.
His boss. Shit. That's what all this is really about isn't it. Somehow this is worse and he hadn't even noticed that it had become worse. Why the hell did Provenza have to open his mouth? The whole time he's known her, her presence never went unnoticed by him. Before this… whatever this transition is… he only thought of her as ruthless, a damn good cop, smart, arrogant, condescending, fun to watch when he wasn't in her direct line of fire, obnoxious, smoking hot, and a total pain in the ass. Even if it wasn't in a good way, he always got a little thrill from her presence and sees now that maybe he liked it a bit more than he should have. Damn. He shook his head & chuckled. If he ever admitted that to Provenza, he'd never hear the end of it. His smile faded a bit as he got back to his point.
Because now… she's still a damn good cop, wicked smart, a mild pain in the ass on occasion, fun to watch in every situation, inspiring to work with, even hotter somehow, kind, graceful, beautiful... He had to physically resist the urge to keep adding adjectives, because he was quickly headed down that road & could easily compile a significant list. His shoulders slumped and he let out a heavy breath knowing he shouldn't be thinking these things about his immediate superior officer. He briefly entertained the idea of putting an end to their alone time outside of work as a solution and it hit him in the stomach like the sucker punch he never saw coming. Crap. He had feelings for her, and not the kind that were easy to talk about. He felt her absence in this moment of realization like an ocean without waves, without sound. He wanted to hold her, kiss her face, and tell her what an ass he was for never noticing what an amazing woman she is.
So was Provenza right? Did the divorce have something to do with him? He flopped back over on his right side and looked at the clock again – 3am. "Dammit, Lou," he grumbled aloud. It wasn't going to do any good lying here any longer pretending that he might actually get some sleep tonight. He got up and started fidgeting around the house, cleaning forgotten dinner dishes and picking up clothes off his bedroom floor for the washing machine. He kept a close watch on the clock which seemed to tick by at an infinitesimally slow rate and tried to think if there could be any reasonable explanation for him showing up to her place at 5:30 in the morning to take her to breakfast before work. Nothing plausible came to mind so he decided he'd take her to dinner instead, hopefully, if they didn't get stuck at the office all night. Only now he didn't know how to act around her. He didn't know if she had feelings for him or if the divorce was about something else, but the sudden urge to know everything right this very second was overwhelming all his senses. He had no earthly idea how he was going to bring any of this up, but he knew if he didn't he'd be facing a lot more sleepless nights than any man should handle at his age.