"What's going on?" Sam was alone on the couch staring at the TV with a blanket over her legs, a nearly empty bowl of cereal in her lap, and a dejected look on her face.

"Spencer spent the night at his girlfriend's and Max took Carly out to breakfast, so I'm just here, all by myself." She tried to sound aloof and unconcerned, but I saw her jaw clench slightly when she said the last three words.

"Why didn't you call me over? Or, you could've woken me up in that classic Sam fashion – with a bucket of water." I smiled slightly, still not sure what had Sam in this mood.

"Better alone than with a dipthong, I say." Her lips quirked up and she smiled sweetly at me for a second before her dispirited expression reappeared.

"Seriously Sam, you could've called me over. I wouldn't have minded. As a matter of fact, it would have been better if you had. At least then I wouldn't have had another sex talk with my mom." I didn't mean to blurt that out, but it had been a really embarrassing (not to mention disturbing) twenty minutes, and I hadn't yet pushed it far enough into the recesses of my mind.

"Why the fuck would she need to do that? It's not like there's a woman out there willing to do you. Even if you paid her. Even if you threatened to kill her and her whole family." Of course Sam just had to verbally assault me.

"Wow Sam," I told her, "you really do wonders for my ego."

"I sure as shit hope not Frewad. Cuz if I am, then I have wasted the majority of my teenage life." As always, getting to berate me perked Sam up even better and faster than ham. I was glad that I could do that, even if it came at the expense of a little piece of my self-respect. I still wanted to know what had her down when I came in though.

"You did waste the majority of your entire teenage life Sam. So, come on, tell me what had you down a couple minutes ago."

Sam cocked an eyebrow at me. She looked so sexy when she did that. "Why would I tell you any damn thing after you said that I've wasted my life?"

"Would you have told me even if I hadn't said it?" I crossed my arms over my chest and lifted an eyebrow of my own.

"No dillweed, I wouldn't have." I had never, and would never again, find any woman who looked so good scowling as Sam did at that instant.

"Then, why shouldn't I have told you the truth?" I was goading her and we both knew it, but if I didn't piss her off a little she wouldn't tell me what was wrong. It was a weird thing we'd developed, but it worked well enough that I didn't feel too bad about what we'd said to each other over the years.

"Oh, I don't know," Sam said. She stuck her bottom lip out a little as she scrunched her face up in a contemplative expression. "Wait!" She said it as if a light bulb had switched on in her head. She smiled brightly and pointed a finger to the ceiling to emphasize whatever she would say. "Maybe it's because then I wouldn't have to kick your ass for the millionth time, retard."

"Another ass kicking by Princess Puckett? Hmm. Thanks, but no thanks. They've gotten pretty low quality these days." I barely had a second of warning before Sam jumped and tackled me to the floor. The blanket came with her and hindered her legs' movements. I was immensely grateful for that since Sam would have undoubtedly tried to knee my groin if she could've gotten the leverage for it. As it was, I tried to grab her arms when she started to pummel my head, shoulders, and torso with all her considerable strength. I got lucky and caught her left wrist before her jab reached my nose. I rolled us over, trying to gain the upper hand, but Sam kept rolling and ended up on top of me again. Rather than try and use her legs to kick me, Sam sat on my stomach and, with a knee on either side of my ribcage, started to squeeze me tightly.

"Low, quality, huh, Benson? Well, how, does, this, feel?" Each of her words was accented with a punch to my chest.

"Like a nice breeze on a hot summer day." I told her sarcastically, but it came out too breathless. Her legs' tight hold on me wouldn't let me get enough air. She bit my fingers to try and make me let go of her hand. It worked. She tried to backhand me, and I grabbed her wrist again. With as much strength as I had, I flipped us over and used my dead weight to hold Sam down while I struggled to get both air and her other hand. I caught her hand, but not my breath.

Desperately, I pinned Sam's wrists above her head with one hand and used my other arm to try and peel one of her legs off of me. When I managed to do that, I pulled away as fast as I could. I should have been relieved that I could breathe again, but I was too stunned to think about it.

"Next time, I won't go so easy on you Benson. I swear I'll break something; no, a lot of somethings." She was looking up at the ceiling and taking deep breaths like me. But her triumphant expression was impossible to miss. She looked over at me and saw my stunned face. "What? Are you surprised that I can still kick your ass? Just cuz you've filled out a little doesn't mean you can take me, moron." My expression didn't change and it aroused Sam's suspicion. "What the fuck, Benson?"

In the last few seconds of our struggle, Sam's blanket had fallen away and as I had pulled her leg off me, the silky smooth skin I felt made me realized that Sam wasn't wearing any pants.

As I sat there, taking deep breaths, I looked down and saw that besides her T-shirt, Sam's only other visible clothing were tight fitting boy short panties. The vivid red cotton looked amazing in combination with her taut, creamy legs.

"Sam! Why the Hell don't you have any pants on?"

Sam's eyebrows shot up and nearly disappeared into her bangs. She glanced down at herself.

"Shit. Give me the blanket." I heard the command, but I really couldn't tear my eyes from her legs. The sight of them was intoxicating; so long and smooth and…

"Ow!" A sudden pain shot out from my forehead, bringing me back to reality and away from sultry fantasies. I realized Sam had found her discarded spoon from earlier and thrown it at me. My face flushed bright red in embarrassment.

"If you're done perving out," Sam said in an oddly calm voice, "give me the blanket. Or else." She covered herself as best she could, which wasn't much, and glowered at me. I knew what "or else" might be and chose the safest option – I handed the blanket over.

Sam wrapped the blanket around herself as she stood up. With one last glare in my direction, she went upstairs to change. Rather than just lay on the floor, I stood up and sat on the couch. Not really aware of anything around me, my head showed me Sam's shapely legs again and again. Good God, the small, rational part of me thought, get a grip on yourself man. I took deep breaths and tried to focus on anything, anything at all, that didn't somehow lead back to Sam Puckett. I was marginally successful by the time Sam came back down stairs in a loose pair of sweat pants. If she was trying to keep me from seeing her figure, she failed. Every exquisite detail was permanently etched into my memory.

I glanced back to say something and with a swift, unavoidable slap to the back of my head, Sam showed me that she hadn't gotten over my ogling. She jumped over the couch and sat down.

"Alright," I said to her, "I deserved that, and I'm sorry. Can you please just let it go Sam?"

"You stare at me like I'm a piece of meat and you think I'm just gonna let that go? Think again numb nuts."

"Come on, Sam…look at it as a compliment. You can stop a guy dead in his tracks." SMACK. I probably should have thought of something else to say.

"You idiot. What kind of girl do you think I am that I would enjoy the fact that pervs like you objectify me at every moment?"

"Alright, I'm sorry. Shit Sam, cut me a little slack; I just saw more of you than a friend should. I'm still in shock."

Sam shook her head and muttered "Idiot." Then she sighed and crossed her arms.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised," she said. "I am hot. And you've probably never seen a woman without pants on outside a computer screen. Poor, pathetic Benson." She struggled not to laugh out loud. She didn't hide her smirk though. I honestly didn't care what deprecating things she said to me at that moment, so long as we just moved on from the incident.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it. I'm a sad, pathetic excuse for a man. Now, are you going to tell me what was going on with you when I came or what?"

Sam let out a short, disgruntled sigh. Her good humor just evaporated. It was a minute before she responded. "I was thinking about how long it would take to switch dorm rooms." She'd been thinking about Jimmy again, is what she really meant.

"Sam," I said quietly, "the best thing you can do is to move on from what Jim–"

"It's not that. Not really anyway. I guess I always knew he was a bastard, but I thought Leslie really was my friend. We got along really well, had fun pulling pranks on a couple jackasses from down the hall. Hell, we talked to each other so much I swear she knows as much about me as you and Carly do. I guess I still don't want to believe that she would…that she would…do it with him, you know?" Sam's eyes started to shine a little. That alone told me all I needed to know. I wanted so much to hold her in my arms and comfort her and never let go, but something held me back. She was still Sam and talking to her was all I could do to help without offending her.

"Look Sam," I started hesitantly, unsure of what to say. I decided that honesty was best. "I can't understand what you're going through. No friend of mine has ever betrayed me like that. All I can say is that I'm here for you. And so are Carly and Spencer." I had to tag that on at the end. I couldn't let Sam find out how I felt about her when she was this distraught. If and when I told her, it had to be the right situation. Sitting on the couch talking about the roommate who'd slept with her boyfriend wasn't it. "You don't ever have to worry that I –or Carly or Spencer– will do anything to hurt you."

Sam considered me for a second; she looked into my eyes as if she were trying to gauge my sincerity. She must have been satisfied with what she saw because she gave a small, content nod.

"Shit, Freddie," she said a second later. "Since when did you get all 'knight-in-shining-armor' on me?"

"About a month ago tomorrow," I said with a smile "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering." A minute passed before she said anything else. "Thanks for being here." She leaned forward, gave me a peck on the cheek, and hugged me tightly.

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. She's not wearing a bra. Sam noticed when I froze.

"What's going on?" She had this look in her eyes like she knew exactly what was flying around in my head. I scrambled to come up with some excuse.

"Nothing really, I just haven't eaten yet. Do you want to go out? My treat."

Sam stared at me for a second before she said, "Sure. Let me get changed." She ran off to Carly's room, and I could have sworn I saw her grinning before she was out of sight.

Okay, Freddie, I thought. Just breathe. Think about something else. Anything else. The microchip was invented in…

A/N: Guys: if you've ever had that kind of hug - they know you know.

It will take about two or three weeks before the next chapter's up, but it will come.