Man Up, Benson
The Story of How Freddie Benson Proposed to Sam Puckett and Got Pantsed on the Peak of Mount Katahdin
"Man up, Benson!"
"Ah, Sam!"
"You're such a girl! We're almost there!"
"I think—I'm gonna—die—of—an asthma—attack."
Sam rolled her eyes. "You don't have asthma, Fredbag."
"I do now."
"You're a weenie."
"Really, Sam?" Freddie gave her his classic 'I-can't-believe-you-just-said-that' look.
"You are. And not the good kind that goes with mustard, chili, and onions."
"I can't believe you."
"Believe it, Benson. Might as well, you're stuck with me."
Freddie just glared, but the expression lacked malice. Mostly because he was so flipping tired, but also because he didn't feel angry—he felt…like he wanted to… He shook the thoughts from his head. Now was not the time. Right now, he needed to focus on not collapsing and face-planting in the dirt. No need to give Sam more ammunition.
"Ah, c'mon, Benson. The Penobscot Indians named this mountain Katahdin for a reason. It's "The Greatest Mountain!" So put on your big boy pants and get a move on!" Sam exclaimed as she continued her hike up the mountain ahead of Freddie, who rolled his eyes, but trudged on.
With the first step he took after getting a dose of Sam's special encouragement (if one could even call it that) he felt the little velvet box that was tucked inside of his pants pocket. He grinned. Sam wouldn't know what hit her.
Freddie had been planning this since college graduation.
Freddie looked up at her as she walked ahead of him and found that her derrière was at eye level for him due to the incline of the mountain. He took the moment to admire her backside. He grinned like a loon. She was his. And he was hers. They'd been dating since their sophomore year in college, and for the last few months all he'd wanted to do was make it official that they belonged to each other.
"Stop looking at my lady lumps, Frederly," she quoted the Black Eyed Peas.
Freddie blushed. How did she know? Sam smirked slyly at him over her shoulder.
It had been one of Sam's ambitions to thru-hike the Appalachian Trail since they were all in the eleventh grade. So just after their college graduation Freddie gave Sam a little surprise…
"What've you got, Freddison?" she asked him as he led her to the door of his and Mrs. Benson's apartment at Bushwell. Carly, Sam, and Freddie were having a joint graduation party at the Shays' apartment that day and Freddie told Sam that he had something for her, but that he'd "accidentally" left it in his apartment.
"You'll see. Close your eyes, and don't peak."
Sam gave him a 'you're-not-seriously telling me what to do' expression.
"Just do it."
Sam glared.
"Please?" He'd squeaked fearfully.
Sam pursed her lips, but complied. Freddie grinned as he opened the door and led Sam inside, closing it behind them and flipped on the light.
"Okay, you can open your eyes now."
Sam opened her eyes and threw Freddie a look that spoke clearly, saying that she thought he was acting like a little boy. Freddie merely gestured towards the center of his living room. Sam knitted her brows together as she turned her head, but it didn't last. Her eyes lit up when she saw it.
"Benson, what's all this?"
There, smack dab in the middle of Freddie Benson's living room was a tent that was set up, two hiking packs, sleeping bags, water bottles, rations, and so on and so forth. Everything that they would need for a hiking trip. A long one.
And there, laying unfolded and attached to the front of the tent was a map of the Appalachian Trail, with a dot marked 'start' in Georgia and 'end' in Maine.
Holy chiz crackers on a space pony.
And that's what Sam said out loud. Freddie laughed.
"Are we…" Sam trailed off.
"That's the plan," Freddie said through a grin.
"You," she proclaimed with a slight pause, "are my dork." She then proceeded to grab the back of Freddie's neck and slammed her lips into his, kissing the fudge out of him.
With lots of tongue.
She thought he deserved it.
When she finally pulled back, Freddie looked dazed, by happy.
"Your dork," he sighed blissfully…
So that is how the couple that was Freddie Benson and Sam Puckett ended up back-backing the Appalachian Trail for the last few months, starting in May. Now it was August and they were nearing the end of their trip. The last mountain of the trail was Mount Katahdin, and it was kicking Freddie's butt. Sure, hiking every day for the past three months had really gotten him in the best shape he'd ever been in, ever, but for some reason it was the last stretch that got to him mentally—he just wanted it to be over with.
Because he was anxious to ask her.
"Hey, what's up with you today, Fredward. You're slower than usual."
"Nothing."
Sam looked at him suspiciously, but did not miss a beat as she climbed up the mountain.
"Whateves," she mumbled.
Freddie chuckled at her grumbling. She had sniffed out his secret, and so now she wanted to know what it was.
Too bad. Freddie wouldn't breathe a word.
He remembered the last time he'd kept a secret from her like it was yesterday…
Freddie found himself slammed up against the door of the Shays' apartment none-too-gently in the dark.
Sam was pissed.
"Alright, Fredweird, you little fairy jack-wagon—what the hell are you hiding from me? Are you seeing that Priscilla Wilkes behind my back, because I swear to God if you are, I will rip you a new one and turn you inside out through it!"
"What?" Freddie gaped like a fish out of water. "How could you think that? I l—"
"Oh, save it for your mommy. I don't want to hear any of that pansy, mushy love stuff. What. Are. You. Hiding. Benson?"
"SURPRISE!" everyone yelled as the lights suddenly came on and the yelling was followed by much confetti and balloons and the blare of kazoos.
Oh.
"Oh," Sam said, pleasantly surprised and seeming rather pleased as she craned her neck around to look at everyone. As she turned back around to look at her boyfriend, she loosened her grip on the front of his shirt.
"Happy seventeenth birthday, Sam," Freddie said with a small smile.
Sam looked him up and down.
"Good work, Benson," she said as she patted the side of his face in her Sam-way. Freddie rolled his eyes and grinned.
At that moment, even though the room must have been filled with nearly thirty people, it was as if no one else were present…
Freddie knew that he should probably be slightly scared of what she might do to him if she got any more annoyed with his secrecy but, incidentally, he was not the least bit afraid.
Because today was the day he would get to finally ask. After three months of carrying the box around, with the knowledge of it always on his mind.
Finally.
The closer they got to the top of the mountain, the more grueling the task became for Freddie. The closer he got to that moment, the more it hurt. But it was a good hurt. He wanted it so badly.
He wanted her so badly.
But he knew that doing the dirty on a mountain that was highly trafficked by hikers was kind of out of the question.
And besides, every time things started to get a little heated during a heavy petting make-out session, Sam would always stop him and say something akin to, "Save it for your wedding night, Benson. No one wants to see you bust a move."
But he knew that she just really wasn't ready. She knew that he wasn't either, and that he didn't plan to "bust a move" but she didn't want to admit any of it. So she insulted him. He was used to it.
Liked it, even.
They stopped a little ways off of the trail path to have lunch on a nice rock. As Freddie chewed his food carefully, thoughtfully, he observed Sam, who was steaming.
"You're deviously quiet," he mused.
Sam shrugged as she chewed her food, not saying a word.
"Oh, really, now you're not talking to me?"
Sam raised an eyebrow at him. Freddie rolled his eyes.
"Well, if only I'd known that this was the way to shut you up…" Freddie provoked her. Sam glared, but still said nothing. He knew that she wanted to tell him what's what, but she remained silent out of pride.
She continued to remain silent all the way up to the top of the mountain. She was probably plotting more than trying to punish him for his secrecy—that's the only reason she would ever be this quiet.
And he found out the hard way that he was right.
They'd finally made it to the top of the mountain. They'd finished thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail. After months. It was exhilarating, to say the least.
It happened as they were standing on the top of the mountain while Freddie was basking in the feeling of accomplishment. One moment he was fully clothed, then the next his pants were in a pool around his ankles. Boy, was he was glad no one else had been around at the time to witness it.
He'd been pantsed.
By his girlfriend.
On the top of a mountain.
Mount Katahdin.
And he kind of liked it.
Freddie swore that it had to be the weirdest freaking experience that he'd ever had in his entire freaking life, being pantsed and liking it. But for some reason, it was not entirely unpleasant. He was wearing his pear pod boxers, and Sam, of course, did not miss the opportunity to make fun of him for it.
"Geez, Benson. They don't come any nerdier, do they?"
"Shut your mouth, Puckett!" he play fought back, as he pulled his pants back up.
"That's what you get for keeping secrets from me. Nub. This is your one and only warning." She paused. "What are you up to?"
Freddie grinned as he reached into his pocket.
And his eyes went wide.
Because the little velvet box was not there.
Oh, holy bat chiz.
Freddie laughed nervously. Did he leave it where they'd eaten lunch? Had it fallen out of his pocket as they'd been walking along? It could be anywhere.
And he was kind of freaking out.
And seriously, what the hell? He'd made it three freaking months without losing it and now, on the last day, the day that he would finally ask—butterfingers.
Shit.
Sam turned away, grinning at him over her shoulder as she looked over the edge of the cliff. "What's got your fruity little panties in a bunch, Fredward?"
Freddie knew that he would never find that little box, ever.
Well there goes four month's-worth of salary.
A deer could be taking a dump on it right then, for all he knew.
It was then that he noticed that Sam was fiddling with something just out of his sight.
What?
"What've you got there, Sam?"
"What?" she asked as she turned her head over towards him and nervously stuffed something in her pocket as she turned the rest of her body to face him. "Oh, nothing."
Freddie narrowed his eyes. "What's in your pocket?"
"A rock. Thought it looked like Abe Lincoln's face. And you know he's my favorite President, dead or alive. The man was just the most bitching President of these United States in history."
"Well, let me see it then," Freddie said as he shifted his weight to his left leg and folded his arms. She was a particularly good liar, but he knew that she was playing it cool to cover something up.
"Uh…" she reached into her pocket and felt around for something and whatever it was that she produced, she chucked it over the side of the mountain before Freddie could get a good look at it.
"Oh, oops, sorry. Slipped. My bad," she said as she adjusted the pack on her back anxiously.
Freddie rolled his eyes.
"Come on, Sam."
"What?"
"Give it to me."
"Give you what?"
"It."
"Oh, very descriptive. I think that you need to work on word choice."
Freddie was so not in the mood.
And there was only one way that Freddie Benson and Sam Puckett ever really solved a dispute.
So they were rolling on the ground, battling for dominance, their back packs forgotten on the ground. Freddie was currently winning. Sam wrapped her legs around Freddie and attempted to throw him over onto his back so that she would be on top, but to no avail. What the fart-knockers? When did the nub get stronger than her?
And she asked just that.
Freddie grinned. "I guess I'm a tough nut to crack when I mean business."
Sam reached up and smacked Freddie in the head.
"Ow, Sam! What was that for?"
"For using the phrase 'tough nut to crack.' You have to realize that I will hurt you when you say something that ridiculously dorky."
Freddie sort of, kind of play-glared at her as he fished around in the pocket that she stuffed the item of interest into.
And found the little velvet box there.
She'd picked his pocket when she'd pantsed him.
"Bitch," he hissed playfully.
"Pansy."
"You wish I were a pansy." Great comeback, Benson, he thought.
"I wish that you would get your pansy self off of me."
"Liar."
Sam rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest as she grumbled something under her breath.
"I'm sorry," Freddie said playfully, condescendingly, "what was that, Puckett?"
"I said, 'so what'?"
Freddie looked at her, surprised that she'd admitted that she liked their current position. Usually, there was no getting such a confession out of her.
And Freddie knew.
She must have seen what was inside of the little box while she was fiddling with it. And she did not seem too happy about it. She was kind of fidgety and avoided his eyes.
Oh, crap.
Maybe now's not the time. Maybe she really doesn't want to marry me. Maybe she's weirded out that I planned this whole trip to ask her this. She has to know that I've been planning it all along, it's not like there's a Jared just off of the path in the Blue Ridge Mountain area. Ridiculous. Just fantastic—
"Ask."
Freddie looked down at her with raised eyebrows, astonished.
"Uh…" he had no idea how to respond to that.
"Ask."
Freddie swallowed thickly and wondered how he should proceed. It didn't matter how many times he'd practiced this. All of it just left his head in that moment.
Sam sure wasn't helping. The one time that he actually needed her wise-cracks to calm his nerves, she neglected to say anything at all. All she could do was look up at the collar of his shirt and appear anxious.
Thanks a lot.
"Sam."
She raised an eyebrow, but continued to stare at his collar.
"S-Samantha."
Risking his life was worth it. Her eyes snapped to his and glared, then she rolled them in annoyance.
"Aw, for the love of bacon, Fredweird, if you get all Samantha on me I'm going to puke on your face." She took a moment to think about what she just said. "It might even be an improvement."
Freddie smiled softly. That was exactly what he'd needed.
"Marry me," he said as he flipped the little velvet box open with a flick of his wrist.
Sam slanted her eyes at him. "You're not the boss of me."
Freddie shot her a handsome half smile and tilted his head to the side. She felt like the breath was knocked out of her. He was damn sexy.
"I guess it's not a totally sickening idea," she relented.
"You think so?" Freddie joked. And then he really had the breath knocked out of him.
Because Sam punched him in the stomach.
"Sam," he whined.
"Ah, c'mon, don't be such a girl."
"You're just jealous because I'm the pretty one."
Sam glared. "Just gimmie the stupid ring," she said as she reached for it, but Freddie pulled it out of her reach.
He removed the ring from the box and took hold of her left hand. Sam did not object.
He carefully slipped the ring on her finger and looked down into her eyes.
"Beautiful," he said as he brushed a stray blonde curl out of her face. He did not want her to take his comment about being the pretty one to heart. She really was beautiful.
Sam chewed on her bottom lip and didn't insult him, miraculously. She tilted her head up and Freddie got the hint. He inclined his face towards hers and their lips touched softly.
But it didn't stay soft for long. Soon they were grabbing at each other; Freddie was soon placing hot open-mouthed kisses down her neck, setting fire to her already burning skin, all the while cradling her head in both is his hands. Sam was practically groping him, and arched her back up into him. Their hips fit together.
Sam grinned. "Can it be?" she questioned dramatically. "I can hardly believe it myself, but its true people: Fredward Benson is a real boy!" she said to an imaginary audience.
Freddie's face turned pink as he got up off of his fiancé. Sam loved embarrassing him.
When they were both standing on their own two feet again Sam reached down and pulled something out of her pack.
It was beef jerky.
Really?
"Sam, we just finished having a romantic moment and you pull out beef jerky?" Freddie asked incredulously.
"I know. All of that jank love crap makes me hungry."
"Crap?"
"You know what I mean."
And he did.
"Oh, grow a pair, Benson."
Calling on his dramatic side, Freddie sighed wistfully, as if he could only hope that one day he could grow a pair of balls.
"For you, anything," he gushed with puppy dog eyes.
Sam screwed up her face in disgust as she hit him in the back of the head. Freddie grinned in spite of the situation.
"Fairy. Man up, Benson."
Some guys would not be able to stand a girlfriend who insulted and physically abused him. Freddie Benson not only stood up to it, but he liked it.
Because he would not have Samantha Puckett any other way.
A/N: Hello all! Thank you so much for reading! I love it when ya'll liked my stories enough to review, favorite, or alert me! All of them make me smile! When you look at how many hits you get on some particular story, all you know is how many people clicked on it, but not how many people actually read it. So if you read this, it would be great if you could send me a review with one or two words if you don't have that much time to devote to a review. If you liked it, you could even mention that. :) It's just nice to know that people actually read your stuff. :) Anyhoo, thanks so much, again, and Godspeed!