A/N: It's 6 in the morning and I've been working on this all day and night, but I'm loving where this is leading so I knew I had to update this weekend. Unfortunately (or fortunately) this is not the last chapter, because I felt this was the perfect place to end it for now. The next chapter, however, will be the wrap up. So please, I'm incredibly sorry for the wait and I hope you'll still enjoy this.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own it. You know what it is.


Freddie didn't remember Sam's lips being that soft the first time they kissed. He forgot how despite the blanket of awkward wrapping around them, his lips liked being adjusted to mesh into another girl's. He liked the heat that friction created, and how he wanted it to continue for more than those seven seconds. But for the sake of their sanity both had to let go.

But that seemed liked eons ago, because now he was kissing his enemy without any initiation, and for a second he felt her push back.

But that was only for a second.

He opened his eye and saw her fists slacken against her thighs. Her once stiff lips loosened against his. Her breathing continued to pike and she inhaled, giving Freddie a brief entryway into her mouth. Their tongues touched, and Freddie felt his psyche slipping, for he had no idea what the hell he was doing or why he was enjoying it so much.

Wait…he was kissing Sam Puckett and there weren't yet any repercussions.

God, am I dead?

Unfortunately he got pulled back into reality when he felt two sharp incisors puncture his bottom lip and heavy hands pushing him back against the cushions. Sam scrambled up and off the couch, spitting in disgust as if she was being French kissed by a scorpion. Freddie covered his mouth in pain and yelled.

"OW! Sam, what did you do!"

"What did I do!" she screamed, breathing still heavy. "I'll answer that as soon as you explain what the hell you just did!"

"It's called a kiss, you viper," he groaned still holding onto his throbbing lip.

"It's called a death sentence," she seethed, "Jee, Freddie, why didn't you just tell me you were so suicidal? I would've offed you a long time ago!"

"So a guy kisses you and you puncture his bottom lip and"—

"Stop saying that word!"

"What word?"

"The word that will cost you your life," she glared. But Freddie challenged her—he was feeling recklessly ballsy lately and figured he would continue since he was going to die anyway. He rose from the couch and approached her, giving a hard stare into those crystal blue irises.

"Kiss," he repeated.

Slap! Sam didn't hesitate to raise her hand, and after the blow to his cheek, she couldn't help but ponder at his change in attitude.

"I'm out of here," she said finally, her tone low but striking.

"That's right," he called after her, ignoring his now throbbing cheek, "run away from everything. Typical Sam."

She screamed in frustration and turned back around. "You promised we'd never do that again!"

"Well I figured since you're the queen of breaking promises it wouldn't be such a problem," he mocked, curious of where the sudden stroke of courage came from.

"You're a problem!" She tried to deliver a jabbing insult but was too stupefied to come up to par with her other material.

"And you're impossible!"

"Me?" she came closer, getting more and more sucked into his presence. "You kissed me!"

"But it's not like you objected," he said quietly, never taking her eyes off of her. "You kissed me back."

She paused. It was as if her chest was pulling her down, trying to drag her down to the nearest hole to bury her into. Clearly this was a dream, some sick and twisted nightmare that would end soon, because never would she ever have this conversation with Freddie in reality.

"No," she said finally. "I didn't," and she headed for the door, ready to get out of this dorm and this situation.

"Yes you did. You straight reciprocated."

"Why," she turned back, keeping her hand on the doorknob, "would I ever want to kiss you?"

"Because," he was ready to reply, but honestly had no clue what to say. That ballsy fire suddenly escaped him, and he sighed and hunched his shoulders, rubbing his neck in a symbol of his confusion. He was approaching the part he always expected but never prepared for: the rejection. But, it wasn't any normal girl; it was just Sam. So the whole rejection thing wouldn't mean much…right?

But it was exactly because she wasn't normal that it meant the world to him. Ugh…

"Because," he started again, "…maybe you're feeling a little bit of what I'm feeling."

"…And what's that?" Sam asked with careful words. But that was the exact question Freddie couldn't answer. What was he supposed to say? Like? Love? Insanity?

He exhaled slowly. "It's…it's complicated, Sam, but I…kinda wanna cross into that dangerous territory with you."

Sam's mouth went dry. "Wha…what now?"

He braced his self. "You were kidding before, I know that. But I'm not. Seriously Sam, I think I like you."

Lie. He thought he liked her three months ago. Now he was past it, and he was dipping himself closer into love every time he saw her.

Even in moments like this, where she terrified him and at the same time made him want to claw her eyes out, he couldn't shake that feeling.

"I…" Sam rasped out, barely able to comprehend the world right now. "I gotta go." She scrambled to open the door and had one foot out the door to freedom until Freddie grabbed her by the shoulder.

"Please, Sam, don't run away from this."

But it was as if she was poisoned by his touch. She shrugged him off quickly and rushed down the hall, elbowing a poor kid walking her way but not really giving a damn. Freddie watched her go, and after registering what just happened he slammed his door and slid his back down against the wood. He wiped a tired hand over his face and stared absently into space, trying to replay every moment of that disaster in his head. Sadly, his lips stilled tingled with the taste of Sam.

"Gosh, Freddie," he reprimanded himself, "what did you expect: for her to run into your arms and live happily ever after? What an idiot move."

No, he replied to himself, officially proving that he was in fact mentally ill, I wasn't expecting that. But even though I feel like crap now I still want her. God, what is wrong with me?


What is wrong with that nub?

Sam was now in her shower, trying as hard as she could to scrub the impurities away from her skin. She took the bar of soap and carelessly rubbed it over her lips, but a few seconds later, having realized how stupid that was, she rubbed it off and gargled with the raining shower water. She wanted to sleep so badly, but her mind hurt too much to give her any rest.

It hurt with thoughts of Freddie.

What the hell was she doing having thoughts of Freddie while in the shower, anyway?

Carly wasn't back yet from her movie, and she was glad. No way could she face anyone, let alone Carly, after what happened. She was violated tonight, that much was obvious, but why was it making her feel so horrible? Why was she feeling so guilty? She cuffed her hands together to gather the warm water and let it splash across her face. She ran her wet palms through her locks in exhaustion and leaned back against the tile.

All my teasing the past five years must've finally made him crazy, she thought, cuz no way would Freddie ever admit to having feelings for me.


Once again, Carly felt out of the loop.

Apparently, something major happened between her best friends, and she had no idea what. It was a week later and neither of them had uttered a thing about anything that might have maybe happened.

But that silence had to mean only one thing: her theory of blossoming love was correct.

She knew immediately after she came home that Sunday from the movies with Wendy. She walked in the dorm and caught Sam hurrying out of the bathroom. Her hair was soaking wet so she assumed that she just had finished a shower. But the look on her face was so pale, and she stared at her for a long while; it was a discomfited stare that made Carly uncomfortable. When she tried to ask what was up, Sam just furiously shook her head and replied "the water's cold," then headed to her room.

Similarly she called Freddie that night to ask how the movie went without her, and he checked out multiple times throughout the entire conversation. When she tried to mention Sam and her peculiar attitude he just paused, then made up some bogus excuse that his mom was calling him with some supersonic dog whistle that only he could hear. She didn't doubt that his mom was actually bizarre enough to have a dog whistle to use on her son, but that he could actually hear it twenty miles away.

They were never able to meet together as a group at all that week. Whenever she was free, Freddie would just mention his heavy workload of studies and walk off, and Sam would just be…well, Sam, and complain about how she didn't feel like socializing with people and stay locked up in the dorm.

They weren't laughing anymore. They weren't arguing. They weren't mocking each other or pulling pranks or wrestling each other in the parking lot. Whenever one of the other's names were mentioned Freddie would become distant, and Sam would become evasive. Whatever happened between them resulted in disaster and Carly no longer had her friends by her side, but instead hollow, empty shells of what used to be Sam and Freddie.

Of what used to be an awesome team.

But it's been a week, and Carly could no longer take the emptiness. It was the end of afternoon classes, and like always Carly stopped in front of their classroom to meet her friends. She wasn't sure if they developed some type of system, but for the past week Freddie would always walk out first, and about fifteen seconds later when he was down the corner Sam would make her exit and go down the opposite hall. But this time she squared her shoulders and waited for the door to open, and when it did she grabbed Freddie by the arm to stop him from moving any further away.

"Hey Freddie," she smiled.

"Oh, hey Carly," he greeted back casually, but wouldn't stop staring at his arm.

"So…" she tried to drag out for fifteen seconds. "What are you up to today? Wanna hit up B.F. Wang's with me and Sam?"

As anticipated, Sam walked out but paused in her tracks, not expecting to see her friends (well one friend and one person she wasn't able to put a label on anymore) by the door. She looked at Freddie, but seeing him look back sent a strange shock through her spine, and she turned her head away quickly unable to meet his eyes again.

"Sorry, Carly," she heard him say, "but I don't think Sam would really like that."

Carly scrambled over to Sam. "Of course she would! Sam would never turn down an afternoon of Asian meat, would you Sam?"

But Sam didn't get the hint and stood glued there to the floor, wondering why the feeling was starting to ooze from her legs.

"It's alright," Freddie started, getting ready to leave. "I'll just"—

"Wait!"

He looked back over his shoulder, wanting to make sure his ears weren't deceiving him, because he was pretty sure that was Sam's voice she just heard. He didn't know how to respond to her one-word exclamation, so he stayed silent. It seemed as if Carly was doing the same.

"…Why don't you come with us?" Sam choked out. "I'm out of cash, so I figure you could pay for me like you usually do."

But that wasn't something that Freddie needed to hear. He gave her a dry look and turned back around. "Nah, I'm good…Later, Carly."

That sinking feeling in Sam's chest took over again. Carly's expression dropped for a second but she turned back to her friend with a smile. "Don't worry; I have plenty of cash, so I'll just pay for us, okay?"

Sam shifted her jaw. "Actually, I wasn't really that hungry anyway. I'm gonna go, sleep under a tree somewhere." And she left.


About a half hour passed, and Sam still sat under the tree, doodling inside the margins of her Psychology notes. After about ten minutes she looked down and saw spicy egg rolls and orange chicken drawn all over the paper. Damn it, I am hungry.

She leaned back against the tree to try to stop the rumbling in her stomach, and when she looked back down she found her pen replaced by chopsticks and her notes replaced by a box of shrimp fried rice.

"Um, am I dreaming?"

"Nope," said a familiar, prissy voice. She looked to her left and saw Carly sitting down beside her with a B.F. Wang bag in her lap. "But I am saving your stomach."

Sam didn't waste any time and began digging her chopsticks into the greasy container. "How'd you know?" she asked as she stuffed her face.

"I made a mental note to myself years ago: never take Sam seriously when she says she's not hungry."

"Wow, you do know me," she smiled.

"Yup," she said and opened up her bag. "And I also know when something's up."

Sam didn't respond and continued indulging herself. "So…" Carly carried on. "Freddie confessed to you, didn't he?"

Sam would've dropped the box of Chinese food to the ground if she wasn't aware of how valuable it was. Instead she swallowed the chewed up shrimp in her mouth and stared at her best friend incredulously. "What?"

"Freddie," she repeated with an strange nonchalance, "He told you he liked you right? It must have been that Sunday while I was at the movies. No wonder you were acting so strange"—

"Wait a wait a wait a minute!" and Sam latched onto Carly's arm. "You knew! You knew about this…this catastrophe?"

"Yes, Sam," she said while trying to tug her arm away, "Well actually, Freddie never told me anything. But there was this weird feeling I've been having for a while and"—

"How long?" she demanded.

"Um…a couple months now I guess"—

"Oh my god…"

"What?"

Sam set her food down and raised her knees closer to her chest. She ran her fingers through her curls and let out a heavy breath. "For months? He's been like this for months? Ugh, why the hell would he want to do this to me…?"

Carly scoffed. "Oh yeah, I'm pretty sure this was just a three-month plan Freddie had to humiliate you in some way by developing feelings for you. How dare that boy," and she shook her finger as if she was scolding him in person.

"I would so love it right now if that wasn't sarcasm," she moaned under a muffled breath.

"Sam, you seriously can't be mad at him for this."

But she didn't respond. Instead she let her side lack and fall limply onto Carly's shoulder. She bent her head and stayed quiet for a long time, memories beginning to engulf her brain.

"…He kissed me," she finally responded.

Carly gasped, losing all intentional sarcasm. "Are you serious!"

She nodded against her shoulder.

"Well then…now I can kinda see why you'd be upset. …But you know, it kinda sucks when your friends break promises."

"Huh?" said Sam barely.

"Remember when we got tied up by those runaway criminals and I found out about you guys' first kiss? We promised each other that we would always tell each other everything from then on out. I've felt out of the loop for weeks and you know how uncomfortable that makes me feel," she pouted.

Sam sighed. "Well then, I guess I should tell you everything then."

"Huh?" It was Carly's turn to look confused.

Sam swallowed hard. Her chest was still heavy, and it was almost as if her heart had taken over her brain and the controls to her mouth, forcing unknown words to spew out from it. "…I kinda kissed him back."

Carly displayed all of the facial expressions of shock within a five-second time period and turned around, forcing eye-to-eye contact with her best friend.

"Okay," she raised her voice, "Now I'm starting to get confused. Do you like Freddie or not!"

"I don't!"

"Really? Cuz usually when you don't like someone you don't reciprocate when they kiss you!"

"I didn't—" she stuttered, "he didn't—I didn't want to…I didn't." But even Sam could hear the bits pathetic in her voice.

"You didn't what?" Carly pressed.

"I don't know!" and in fury she turned away and leaned on the trunk, back turned away from Carly. She turned back briefly to grab her once forgotten Chinese food and began eating in a huff. But her bites were at slow intervals, and subconsciously her mind kept slipping back to Sunday and kept playing the incident over and over. She didn't know what it was, but he was incredibly ballsy that day, and she didn't want to admit how much he threw her off with his responses. And…even though he kissed like a timid puppy, his lips were so soft and warm. Who was that Freddie that she fought with that day? Or was it just a side of him that she refused to see?

After a long while she lowered her food, and looked over her shoulder glad to see Carly was still there. "You know," she said finally, "I slapped him. And I think I bruised his lip."

Carly smiled. "Doesn't surprise me…"

"But it was like, he didn't even care. Even today, it seemed like he didn't really care."

"Well, don't you want him not to care?"

Sam told the truth. "I don't know… You know he used to love you."

Carly furrowed her brow, trying to force her brain to go back into time to remember it. "Um, yeah, he did"—

"Like, obsessively in love. Dude was cookoo for Carly!"

"Alright, jeez!" Carly interjected. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Sam started to turn around and scoot over. "Well, I wasn't crazy about the two of you or anything, and even after the whole bacon thing he still seemed to really like you. So if figured, hey if it makes the kid happy what's the huge problem? But…why is it so different now? Why can't he just be some nerdy little boy with a nerdy little crush again and why can't I reject him so easily?"

Carly sighed and sat up straight, channeling her awesome advice-giving skills. "Well, both of you are pretty different now. He's not so little and nerdy anymore and you're not so little and aggressive. Face it Sam, you're a girl. So you're having pretty girly feelings that are probably not in your area of familiarity at all."

"So what do I do about these…things?"

Carly opened her mouth to respond but paused, shut her lips, then opened again. She wrinkled her forehead. "Um…honestly…I have no idea."

It was times like these when Sam really hated females.


Another week dragged on, which meant another week of torture for Carly. Sam sighed as she thought about her friend. She knew it was hard having things so estranged between her and Freddie, but the past week gave Sam time to think about things, and not just squash them down into the pit of her stomach as usual. The talk she had with Carls had an extra dose of emotion she wasn't exactly comfortable with handling, but it did get her to realize something:

She and Freddie

Despite it all, they were friends.

Some would say best friends.

And destroying friendships over naïve feelings was so overrated, and something Sam wasn't willing to do.

So, if Carly was able to keep a good friend in Freddie in spite of all they went through, then Sam could easily do the same.

Sam zipped her coat as she was walking across the courtyard. It was getting late but she had an unquenchable thirst for a hot dog she needed to satisfy before she headed back for her dorm. There was a hot dog stand at the end of the courtyard and she made her way over quickly.

"Yo hot dog boy," she called over the cart. An acne-ridden kid with black-framed glasses rolled his eyes and turned toward Sam.

"Yes?" he said in a monotone.

"Let me get three large chili dogs with ketchup and mustard. No relish. I see relish and I'm running your foot over with this cart."

"Yes ma'am, right away ma'am," he flinched and turned away. A few small chuckles came from the guy beside her. Sam raised an eyebrow, not exactly sure what was so funny or what drove this stranger to get on her bad side by laughing.

"Don't worry," the guy said to the cart owner. "She doesn't really bite…much, anyway."

Sam did a mental gasp and turned to the brown-haired boy.

"Freddie…"

"Sup," he waved casually.

"What are you doing here?" she asked stupidly as if he had no right to be purchasing a hot dog at this time of night.

He pointed toward the large paper bag on the counter. "Just picking up some food. Gibby wanted hot dogs tonight."

"Ah…" she trailed off. He reached over the counter to grab some napkins, so she took the opportunity to look at him thoroughly. It's only been about two weeks since they've actually talked, and she sees him everyday in Psychology, but it was something about this encounter that had her heart pumping. He was the same brunette with the same light almond eyes and the same chubby cheeks. Everything about him was the same yet so different. It was frustrating.

"So," he started, making her jerk out of her thoughts, "what have you been up to?"

"Nothin' much," she said, "doin pretty good." Lie.

Usually the silent moments between the two were comfortable, but now it was nothing short of awkward.

"So…" Freddie ruffled his hair. "I'm waiting for one of us to start yelling or slapping…"

"Or biting," Sam slipped out. They exchanged glances and laughed quietly. She looked away but could still feel his eyes burning a hole in her back. He kept on staring until the cart guy tapped his shoulder.

"Here's your last hot dog," he said and put it in the bag.

Freddie cleared his throat. "Oh, uh, thanks man." He grabbed the bag from off the counter and started to walk off. "Well, see you," he waved.

"See you…" Sam spat out before she could realize what was going on. But once she noticed his feet start to move away she let reality smack her in the face and leaned forward, grabbing his arm. "Wait, Freddie."

He stopped and turned around, staring at her hand and how it was actually making contact with his body. "Yes?"

"Uh-I," she stammered, scratching her head, "just, um, wanted to…point out that that's a nice jacket you got on."

Freddie awkwardly tugged at the black fabric. "Well thanks, um, it is 100 percent cotton."

"I hear they do some good work…that cotton."

"Yuup."

He was ready to leave again when Sam called out. "Actually, I…" and she closed her eyes, trying to remember exactly what she wanted to say. She found herself practicing an apology all week, so why was it so hard to cough one up now?

"Use your words…" he teased.

"I wanted to apologize, okay?" she finally spat out.

Freddie stayed cautious, but couldn't help but feel a smile creep up inside of him. "An apology? The Sam Puckett is actually giving an apology?"

"Yeah well," she sighed. "Sam Puckett hasn't been a very smart girl lately. And she had the help from her best friend who's a lot better at this stuff than I am."

"So," he shuffled his feet, "what did she decide?"

"She decided that she overreacted, and that she shouldn't lose a friend over such little emotions."

The smile that was before creeping up inside Freddie suddenly lost momentum and sunk back down. "Um…little?" he repeated, just to make sure he heard things correctly.

"Yeah—" she started but was interrupted by her hot dogs that were ready on the counter. Freddie clenched his jaw. After…after all those months of confusion and suffering and anticipation, he gets what he wanted, but really not at all. Besides his heart, he really sacrificed nothing, because nothing had changed. Sam was still his friend. She knew of his "little emotions" and decided that they were still going to be friends.

"Anyway," she returned, "Come on, let's go."

Freddie tilted his head. "What?"

"Let's go," she urged. "I just rented that kung fu sci-fi movie on DVD and I need people to back me up on it just in case Carly doesn't wanna go for it. So let's go get Gibby and we can all—"

But Freddie bolstered his resolve and pulled back. "I'm not going, Sam."

The wind started to pick up and Sam had to pull a strand of her gold curls away from her cheek. She tried her best to look up at him. "Huh?"

He shook his head and repeated. "I'm not going."

"What? Why?"

He swallowed hard but stepped forward, looking hard into her eyes with no fear. "Look Sam, you clearly don't want to be with me, do you?"

What…The wind blew against her face even harder than before, but his words struck so deep inside her that she didn't even notice. Confused, she shook her head and stepped back. "What? No, Freddie, you're my friend—"

"There you go again!" he exclaimed as he threw his arm in the air. "Not like this," he answered. "I don't think I want to be."

Her voice lowered. "But I apologized. I thought…you didn't hate me anymore."

"Sam," he sighed. "I could never hate you. But I can also never go back to the way things were. Isn't it pretty obvious right now I want to be more than just your friend?"

She bit her lip. "Just…just cut this out okay?"

"Cut what out?"

"This! This whole freaky crush thing! I know you were like this with Carly and now you're doing it again and"—

"Wait," he felt his blood rushing again. "You're comparing this to me and Carly? You seriously think this is the exact same thing I felt with Carly?"

"Yes," she defended, honestly being unsure in her mind but needing some kind of words to throw at him.

"This is just great…" he said more so to himself as he massaged his temples in frustration. He turned back to her. "You remember when you were drunk a month ago? Yeah, some kid spiked your drink and you got hammered the rest of the night? That proved it to me: proved that you were reckless, narrow-minded, and irresponsible. But for some reason all of that didn't matter to me because you needed my help. Seriously, you needed my help. You didn't go to Carly that night, you came to me. You wore my t-shirt, you spit up on my back, and you slept in my bed." He laughed in a sadistic sort of way. "You know, that was one of the nights that made me realize how much I liked you. Crazy isn't it? It's absolutely insane! Cuz what I felt for Carly was normal: your typical boy in love with his perfect next door neighbor. But this," and he motioned toward himself and back to Sam, "this is the complete opposite of normal. Your vicious and evil-like self is anything but that. But...you make me laugh, you make me go to bed at night wondering the small things I can do to make you irritated, or the arguments from the past I can bring up just to make you fight with me again and I can see your cheek brush red and your eyes sparkle that blue color. And then I think that blue isn't an adequate enough way to describe it, so I stay up even longer listing all the possible colors of blue like topaz and cerulean. I know I sound insane just saying this right now…but I'm sick of watching you run away from it so now I stupidly laid it all out in the open for you."

Sam's chest wasn't just heavy anymore. It was as if her heart was running a marathon inside of it. All the while her brain was torturing her with embedding every word he just said into her memory. It's been a while since she thought of that night of the party. Technically it was the morning after since she still couldn't remember much about that night. She did, however, remember that My Fellow Americans t-shirt, and the palm of her hand lying open across Freddie's bed and his fingers tracing the insides…

No! She turned around slapped her forehead, walking in a small circle trying to get thoughts out of her head. She turned back to Freddie. "This wasn't how it was supposed to go… I was supposed to apologize and then slap you around a few times and then everything was supposed to return to normal. This whole thing…is jank. You don't know how bad I want you to stop this right now"—

He scoffed. "Don't you think I would if I could? You know, I have absolutely NO idea how this happened, but I'm sick of spending all of my time trying to figure it out, of hiding everything." He looked up and noticed her gaze somewhere else, obviously trying to block out his words. "So you know what," he continued, "I'm done. I don't have to figure anything out anymore."

He was about to make his way to leave until Sam called out again. "Are you serious? You're gonna say all of that then go ahead and leave without even thinking about how it affects me? You act as if you and your emotions are the only thing important to this whole situation."

"I apologized for that kiss," he said abruptly, "and I truly am sorry for it. But I'm not gonna apologize for the reason I did it, or the intention behind it." He rubbed the tension on the back of his neck, looked away for a moment, then turned back to lock eyes with her. "Look, Sam, I like you, and I feel pretty crazy about you right now, but there's nothing I can do about it anymore. So…stop asking me to change my mind, alright? Something tells me I'm not budging from this, so until you can truly see where I'm coming from, we can't be friends."

And that was it. He had nothing else to say, and for the first time in months he felt no regrets walking away from Sam or letting her leave. Because even though he knew the rejection was inevitable, he couldn't let that feeling in his heart go, the feeling that he wasn't alone in this.


A/N: Way to go Freddie! Did I make him in character this time? Ehh, maybe. Did I make him own Sam with his feelings? Oh yeah =). So now you know where he stands, and it's Sam's turn to go through the conflicting emotions. I'm hoping next chapter will tie things up pretty nicely, and not leave anyone disappointed. Well...I see the sun rising, and I'm probably gonna collapse any second, so peace! Hope you liked it!

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