A/N: Alrighty! So the consensus seems to be that I should continue with the story, and to be honest, I'm glad. I think it'd be cool to see where this all goes.
Two things: 1) No one is getting pregnant in this story, and 2) I have as much of an idea of what's going to happen as you do. You know, aside from the whole no-pregnancy thing. I'm uploading the chapters as I complete them, and I decide what's going to happen in the story as I'm writing. But not to worry! I write for a living, so updates will not be few and far between.
The title of this chapter is taken from the song "The Tears" by Robots in Disguise. (Partied with them in Glasgow. Those gals are crazy!)
Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. Or maybe I do, and I'm just posing as a fangirl to get ideas from you o.O
Sam
Oh fuck.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!
She was panicking. On the outside, she was trying her best to be stoic because Freddie was there, but in her head she was absolutely terrified. Her temples were pounding and her tonsils felt inflamed. What did they do last night?
The dull ache in her loins gave her an answer.
She tried not to think about it. And failed miserably.
She kept her voice as steady as she could. "Freddie, could you turn around? I'm gonna go to the bathroom."
They hadn't said anything in the past minute. They had just sat there staring at each other, each inside their own heads.
Freddie blinked at her. I wonder what he's thinking?
"Yeah," he said finally. "Sure." He secured the blanket at his waist as he turned away from her, placing his feet on the floor on his side of the bed.
Sam looked at his back for a moment. There were light pink scratch marks along both of his shoulder blades and some scattered bruises.
Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it…
She spotted her shirt and boy shorts over by the closet and her bra and jeans by the dresser. She double checked to see if Freddie was facing away and darted out from under the covers to grab her clothes and head for his private bathroom.
Once inside, she locked the door. Putting her clothes down by the sink, she examined herself in the mirror.
She was a bit startled by what she saw, by how young the expression on her face made her look. Her eyes were wide, her brow furrowed slightly, her cheeks blanched. She never got used to seeing that look on her own face, no matter how many times she glimpsed it.
Her hair was a tangled mess. There was a hickey on her left breast and some other red marks along her collarbone. She could see a few bruises on her legs, but that wasn't anything new. She turned her body around to check her back, pulling her hair to the side, and gasped at what she saw.
Holy crap!
There was bruising all over her back. Upper, middle and lower. They ranged everywhere from very faint to almost purple.
Jesus christ…
She turned back around and looked down at herself. I guess that explains the furniture.
Slowly, her face fell. She placed her hands over her lower abdomen and crotch, holding the pain she felt there. She couldn't deny it. Not when she hurt. Not when she could feel that he had been inside her, however many hours ago that must have been. God, how is it like he's still there?
She saw her image in the mirror blur, and she let the tears fall. No one would see.
She wasn't upset that she'd had sex with Freddie. She had already planned on doing that on their one-year anniversary in a few days. One year! Can you believe it?
Their anniversary fell on a Saturday, so that meant no school, no iCarly, just the entire day to themselves. Freddie said he had stuff planned for them to do during the day, but for later that night, Sam had plans of her own. Freddie had promised that his mom would be at work, so Sam was going to suggest that they head back to his place to hang out some more, maybe watch a movie, munch on some snacks, flirt. Then she would seduce him—she already bought some sexy lingerie for the occasion—and they would lose their virginity together just as they had given each other their first kiss.
But now it would never happen that way. They'd already done it. And worse, neither of them remembered anything. That made Sam upset.
Her face contorted in anguish and she let out a strangled sob.
This wasn't how it was supposed to happen! What the hell went on last night? Why can't we remember? Did we get drunk and black out?
She was feeling dehydrated, and her head hurt, but she chalked that up to being a result of all the thinking she was doing about the implications of her current situation. Or maybe she was hungover. Now that the adrenaline from a few minutes ago was wearing off, her headache was getting worse. Ugh.
She angrily swiped the tears from her face and cleaned herself up a bit before putting her clothes on. She made sure all the redness in her face was gone before she unlocked the door and stepped back into the bedroom.
Freddie was dressed. He had been righting his bedside lamp when Sam opened the door, and he looked up at her when she came into the room. She stayed by his desk next to the bathroom, swaying nervously and kneading her hands together. Freddie frowned at her, though he didn't move toward her.
"I found a, uh," he began. "I found a condom by the bed."
"A used one?"
He rolled his eyes. "No, Sam, an unused one, and I just felt compelled to tell you about it," he replied sarcastically. "Yes, of course, a used one!"
"Cool it, Frednub, before I rearrange your face," she retorted, though without much enthusiasm.
Freddie smirked at the name-calling, but his expression grew serious again at the tone of Sam's voice.
"We had sex, Sam," he said after a moment.
Yeah, I knew that about as soon as I woke up, Benson.
"I know," she said.
"You know?" he asked, looking at her inquisitively. "How do you know?"
She raised an eyebrow at him and pursed her lips together. "I know."
He looked her up and down as if trying to glean the answer from her stance. Apparently, he was able to, because in the next moment realization spread over his face.
"Oh," was all he said.
Sam shuffled her feet a little bit. Freddie let out a breath and walked over to her. He pulled her into a hug, though she stiffened somewhat. Eventually, she relaxed when he didn't back down and instead just kept holding her. She wrapped her arms around his middle and burrowed her face into his neck, taking in his warmth and his scent. He kissed her temple.
"We're gonna figure out what happened, Sam," he said. "I promise."
Sam remained quiet. For just a few minutes, she didn't want to think about anything. She just wanted to hold her boyfriend.
Of course, her brain had other ideas. It wouldn't shut up. Dammit!
She turned her head so she could speak without her words being muffled. "We already know one thing that happened," she said quietly.
We had crazy animal sex, apparently.
"Yeah, I guess we do."
They went quiet again. After a while, Sam removed herself from Freddie's embrace, nodded as if deciding something and headed towards his bedroom door.
"Well, I gotta go home and change," she said hurriedly. "Your mom will have gone to work by now, right? I don't really wanna run into her on my way out of your room, wearing what I had on yesterday. That would be bad. Imagine that conversation."
Her walls were back up. Everything's normal. Just pack up this chizz and move on.
Freddie growled in exasperation. "Sam, stop!" he said.
She already had her hand on the doorknob, but she stopped and turned around to face him, giving him her 'What is it, Fredbag?' expression.
"What?" she asked, no trace of her emotions evident in her voice.
Freddie huffed. "We have to talk about this."
"Talk about what?"
"Goddammit, Sam!" he said, raising his voice. "Talk about what might have happened last night! Talk about us having sex! Try to figure things out!"
She frowned at him. "What's the point, Freddie?"
"What's the point? The point is we had sex! We had sex and did I-don't-know-what-else, and we need to talk about it! Don't you dare go pretending like nothing happened, because something did happen! Something significant happened, and neither of us remembers a damn thing. I was a virgin, Sam, and suddenly now I'm not, and I would like to know how the FUCK that happened!" His face had gone red.
"Well, you see, Freddo, when a man and a woman really love each other…" she began.
"I'm serious, Sam!" he exclaimed. "Why are you acting like this doesn't bother you?"
"Because I'm furious about it, Freddie!" she shouted suddenly. "And if I think about it, then it becomes just another problem I have to deal with, and I have enough of those as it is!"
He looked at her incredulously. At some point, she had crossed the room and had gotten in his face, gesturing wildly. He set his jaw.
"I refuse to let you sweep this under a rug, Sam," he said firmly.
Sam turned away with a howl of frustration and wiped her hand over her face. She took a labored breath and stared at the floor.
Freddie waited a beat before he moved closer and gently put a hand on her shoulder. When she didn't pull away he lightly started to move his thumb in circles, trying to calm her.
"Talk to me," he said. "Please, Sam. Just… tell me what you're thinking."
She didn't move to face him. "I'm thinking that I fucked up again, Fredward," she said flatly. "As was inevitable."
Freddie spun her around and gripped her upper arms so that she wouldn't back away.
"You did not fuck up, Sam," he searched her eyes, willing her to look at him.
"Of course I did," she said to his chest.
"No, you didn't!" he insisted, shaking her slightly.
She finally looked up at his face, challenging. "And how do you know that, Freddie?" she asked. "You can't even remember fucking me last night."
Freddie drew his head back as if he had received a physical blow. Take that, Benson.
He just gaped at her, so she continued.
"You can't possibly know that I didn't fuck up, Fredwad," she said. "Come on, of course it was me! It's always me! We obviously got so plastered last night that we blacked out, and which of us would be the most likely cause of that, huh? Me! You're too good, Freddie, so of course it was me. I fucked up. I fucked up and got us trashed, and we had furniture-knocking sex and wasted our virginities in some wigged-out stupor!"
She felt tears stinging her eyes. Goddammit! Don't you fucking cry, Puckett!
"Sam—" Freddie began but was interrupted.
"—It was a fucking waste, Freddie!" she bawled. The tears flowed freely. "And it's my fault!" She tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let her, so instead she buried her face in his shirt.
"No, Sam, no," he tried to soothe her, running his hands over her back as she sobbed into his shoulder. "It wasn't your fault, OK? If anything, it was both our faults. Don't go blaming everything on yourself when you don't deserve it."
She kept her face at his shoulder as she tried not to hyperventilate, gradually forcing herself to calm down. Freddie didn't rush her.
"This is not how it was supposed to happen," she mumbled pathetically.
"I know, Sam," he said. He took her face in his hands and tilted her head up so she would look at him. "But you were still my first, and I was yours." He held her gaze, willing her to accept that truth.
Her face was all pink and splotchy, her eyes puffy and her nose running, and her tears had gotten everywhere. Oh god, I'm disgusting.
Freddie pulled her face to his and kissed her tenderly. More tears came.
"I love you, Samantha Puckett," he said, leaning their foreheads together and thumbing away her tears. "Even if you can't remember last night, don't you ever forget that."
She never cried so much in her life.
"I hate you for making me cry, Benson," she got out between sobs. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him as tightly as she could.
"I love you too."
A/N: Whew! Intensity in ten cities? No? Well, I tried. Review, please!
