Author's note: Hey everyone!
Sorry I'm very inconsistent about writing, there are just a lot going on in my life rn and I can't really place the time and energy into fics lately, even though I want to.
Anyway, this is a smutty fic for yall. Trigger warning: contains topics of sexual assault from the previous episodes.
Some of the descriptions of Andy's house doesn't really match 4X16 because it was written before that.
Anyway, I hope yall enjoy and let me know what you think!
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They have found their way back to each other.
In some twisted, unclear path of faith they found their way back to one another, slowly but surely, like a toddler taking their first steps over and over again, until they finally met somewhere in the middle.
It wasn't easy.
It was painful, and dirty, and it hurt. They said to each other every single thing that sat on their hearts, yet this time it was whispered instead of screamed. More often than not, the water under that particular bridge seemed to have drifted them too far apart, to a point where it looked like they would never be able to meet again.
Yet somehow, through all of the pain and trauma of the last months, they have found their way back to one another's arm, walking slowly, blindly, in a road that might end every second, together.
"I'm done with therapy." Andy declares as she pours herself a large glass of red wine, filling it up to the rim. It is the first thing she does after the two of them walk into her small rented apartment, heading straight to the cabinet and pulling two glasses and a half empty bottle of Merlot.
"Andy..." Robert whispers her name as he takes a long gaze across the small room, trying to absorb as much of his surroundings as he possibly can, before she turns around and catches him prying.
Her living room is small and practical, very Andy-like, Robert thinks. There are no decorations or pictures, nothing sentimental of any sorts. Just a coach that was obviously meant for one person, a TV and one book shelf filled to the brim with fire manuals, so much so that he makes a mental note to come over one day and make sure the piece of wood is firmly secure to the wall.
Just in case.
Robert suspects that if he opens the fridge, he will find nothing in there other than take out containers and milk that has probably expired by now.
"Don't Andy me." She tries to threaten, but her voice breaks mid sentence, and he can see her eyes filling with tears. "It's too much." She whispers the last words, then gulps on her wine as she hands Robert the other glass, filled with soda.
God, he wishes he could have something stronger from time to time.
"Don't you think that means it's working?" Robert says, as they both stare at the single seat in the living room, trying to decide which one of them will have to stand.
"You weren't there, Robert." Andy almost accuses, signaling him with her free hand that he should be the one to take the only open seat. "I'm sorry." She mumbles. "Never really planned on having company over. I guess I always believed this arrangement to be temporary. I will bring over a chair."
Robert can't help but notice that her glass is now half empty, as she turns her back to him and walks toward the small kitchen, not even ten steps away.
"Andy..." He whispers, and god, he missed the taste of her name on his tongue.
"Don't say my name this way." Andy exhales as she walks back toward him, completely forgetting she planned on bringing another chair so they will be able to sit together, neither one of them hovering over the other.
