A loud ringing woke him up. He quickly rolled onto his side and hit his clock. He yawned carelessly and stretched, turning over the opposite way. The blanket was in an arch next to him and he furrowed his brow. He lifted the covers and before his innocent (or what he'd thought were) eyes he saw a curvaceous Sam curled up in a fetus position wearing nothing but his Space Invaders boxers. He covered his mouth with hand as he fell backwards out of bed, smacking his head on his chest of drawers. A groan and a shuffle were heard from the bed and in a panic he scurried into his en-suite bathroom. Then a light snore filled the room and his pounding heart seemed to calm its pace slightly.

Yeah, that's kind of when he noticed he was wearing nothing. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he crawled over to his drawer, grabbing a pair of plain navy boxers and slipped them on, standing up and walking into his bathroom. He looked in the mirror at his face. There were bags under his eyes, and his hair was what you would describe quite specifically as sex hair. His head was throbbing as if a ton of bricks had chosen his brain as their target. Rubbing his neck was when he realized the bruise on his shoulder. Well, the many bruises on his left shoulder, and he traced over them with his finger he could feel the bite marks. He gulped and balled his hands into fists, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

Fredward Benson had been deflowered by his enemy at fifteen. He was too livid to worry about where Carly was and he was trying to piece together exactly what had happened. But all he could remember was a lot of biting, scratching, lip to lip action and a few random noises that came to mind. He shook his head, almost trying to knock sense into himself. He still felt slightly dizzy as he stumbled back into his room. Well, it had to happen at some point. So here goes, he thought as he crawled onto his smallish green bed and shook Sam. He kept a hand over both his eyes but left a slight gap to peep, because after all, he was a boy.

He gulped for quite a few reasons as Sam stretched out and mumbled something barely coherent. "Freddie, make me some bacon," she whispered slightly, still half asleep. Then she opened them wide. "Freddie?" She stage-whispered, slightly confused and angry. Her blue eyes darted around his room before she looked down at herself and tilted her head in realization, before shrugging and sitting up. Wow, she really was quite confident about herself, Freddie thought. "Dude," she rubbed her eye with her fist. "I don't care if you look."

Freddie slowly took his hands away and made sure to concentrate on her face. He was glad that the blinds were closed and his door was locked, otherwise she would have clearly been able to see his eyes flickering every so often. He was mad at the fact she was acting so very non-caring. "Sam," he started nervously. The same nervousness was in her eyes, but she shrugged in question. "You do realize what—" he gestured to his bed, "--happened. You didn't just sleep here, you slept here. With – me." Freddie gulped, and wiped a little sweat off of his forehead, expecting a bloody murder coming his way.

Sam nodded before standing up and picking Freddie's blue striped polo and throwing it over her head, not being able to spot her clothes from last night. "Y-you look kind of cool in stripes," he mumbled, knowing complementing her would be the best way to avoid becoming a punch bag that morning. She raised an eyebrow and chuckled.

"Yeah, I'm sure I'd look better without it. Am I right?" She laughed as she joked, holding her fist up for a knuckle touch as she crossed her legs. When Freddie just gaped at her, she rolled her eyes and dropped her fist awkwardly. She leaned close to him. "Dork," She half whispered, half growled as she gave him a bruising kiss and then pulled away. "Hm. Just wondering whether it felt as good sober as it did when intoxicated." Freddie was recovering from the initial shock of her lips on his whilst she looked over his body. Her hands went to his left shoulder, rubbing the marks there. Before he could ask what conclusion she'd come to, "Woah, did I do that. I'm awesome," she exclaimed and stood up, tying her untamed hair into a ponytail and skipping out of his room.

He sat on his bed, staring after her. "Freddie!" She yelled and he stood up quickly and followed her. She stuck a pink sticky note to his bare chest and said, "this was on your door." He peeled it off his chest as he watched her take kitchen utensils, tin foil and bacon out and to Freddie's surprise, began making breakfast. He looked down at the note. Why did I ever put a lock on your door? Oh yeah, privacy. I'm getting rid of it as soon as I get home. I'm worried about why you locked your door, Fredward. Gone to work. Left some bacon in the fridge for your breakfast. We'll be talking when I get back. Love you, poppet. Be back in the evening. Freddie looked up at the clock. It was one in the afternoon.

He looked up at Sam with the bacon and scrunched his eyes closed tightly. His life was over. Sam was soon going to come to her senses and begin a month long cleansing routine (that's saying something for sam) and his mother would be giving him a bunch of different safety talks, including safety in sex and Carly would kill the both of them for leaving her at the party. Sam turned to him, standing over the stove. "We should go get your car soon, and Carly," she mumbled as if reading his mind.

"Yeah, after I take a shower." Sam nodded and told him that she'd go in after him and that he should hurry up before all the bacon was gone. Freddie spent five minutes in the shower before taking a towel from the door and wrapping it around his waist and tucking it in at his hip. He jumped back slightly as the bathroom door opened, Sam stepping into the steam-filled air.

"You done?" She said with her hand over eyes. It's not like you haven't seen it before, he thought but daren't say. At least she seemed to be able to remember all the events of last night, but his mind was foggy and so he decided to just wait until everything came back to him. He mumbled a yes and Sam took her hand off of her eyes. She looked over his gleaming upper torso and grunted appreciatively. She threw Freddie's blue polo in the hamper and he gulped as he slid past her in the doorway, turning round to watch her drop his boxers with the gap left in the door. He went to his room and put on a red robe and made his way back into the kitchen.

He sat on the stool and leaned on his hand, chewing a rasher of bacon. He rubbed his fingers against his temple and a remembrance of making out with Sam while dancing, on Josh's couch and in the back of the bus flashed through his mind and he wished he hadn't closed his eyes. Freddie was confused about Sam's nonchalance, he was beginning to think they'd had some heart-to-heart talk last night that he couldn't remember. Before tonight, he'd thought the years had been nice to Sam, her hair was an untamed mass of blonde ringlets, her eyes very much blue and just the perfect figure. She was any boy's dream. I guess she was his dream. Or his reality, technically. He had so many questions for her.

As if on cue, she walked into the kitchen in Freddie's grey sweatpants and big hoodie, her wet hair cascading around her pale face. She sighed and lifted herself up onto the stool opposite him. She crossed her arms on the counter, leaning her chin on them and staring up at Freddie who looked back at her. She chuckled quietly then smirked. He couldn't help the smirk that creeped onto his face and remained there. They stayed like that for a couple of minutes, before both chuckling and Sam sitting up.

"Freddie?" She questioned and he nodded his chin for her to go on. She fought away another smirk and tucked some hair behind her ear. "Were you… innocent… before last night?" What should have been an awkward question, sounded weirdly normal coming from Sam. He drew out a breath and then looked down, stopping, then looked back up at her and nodding. "Well, yeah. As you've managed to tell me in so many ways – I'm no stud."

"I'm not so sure about that anymore," Sam said and offered him a half-smile. He frowned slightly, but then realized it was some sort of twisted compliment that he was kind of afraid of. He tried his best not to blush. "Well uh," he began, going back to Sam's first question. "Were you…?" He gulped as she looked away, but then looked back at him and shook her head no. "Oh," was all he managed to squeak. Seconds passed slowly before he spoke again, "Who…When?"

Sam raised an eyebrow at his personal questions, but she decided truth was the best option to go with at the moment. "Stan Higgens," she said, her lips twisting in anticipation of Freddie's reaction. Freddie leaned backwards slightly in surprise and he felt anger in the pit of his stomach. Then he realized it wasn't anger, but something else entirely. "About 8 months ago. I cornered him after AV Club and kissed him. Remember? You asked me why I was waiting for you, I said I wasn't. You watched as I grabbed Stanley and walked off, shaking your head."

"I remember being slightly confused. Heh. Stanley? I thought everyone in the AV Club were nerds?" Freddie inquired, and Sam scratched her neck nervously.

"Yeah, well I slept with you didn't I?" Sam just made the air a little thicker and Freddie slumped back in his chair, finishing a piece of bacon. Sam sighed dejectedly and copied his movements, grabbing the last piece of meat and eating it awkwardly. She watched him as he opened his mouth to say something and then snapped it shut. A minute had passed slowly.

"Sam," he sighed. "Where do we stand? After this?" Sam leant her head into crossed arms again, this time, facing the table.

"I dunno," she mumbled barely coherently into the sleeve of Freddie's hoodie. She looked up. "Maybe we could just pretend it never happened. Go on as Carly's bickering sidekicks. We're too young to over-analyze these sorts of things. W-we could just pretend like it never happened?" Freddie watched her lips as she spoke, entranced. Then he looked up at her eyes, taking in what she'd suggested.

"I-I don't think that I can do that, Sammy," he said, jumping down from the stool and sticking his plate into the sink. He leaned on the counter. She jumped down too, wiping her eye on her sleeve. "Are you crying?" She looked up at him as a tear cascaded down her face. Freddie had never seen Sam cry, maybe once, that time she'd gotten a job at Chilli My Bowl, but he wasn't sure as she's screamed in his face to back off. He closed the distance between them with a hug. It wasn't a romantic hug. It was what she needed, some contact, Freddie embracing her in a bear hug. She adored his hugs, though there were rarely any that occurred between the two of them, they were special.

She wept into his shoulder, then pulled back slowly. "I think we should go and get Carly. A-and your car." Freddie nodded, pulling away from her, but not before placing a soft kiss on her forehead.