A/N Thanks again for all the reviews and the PM's. I'm so happy that peeps are reading my little story!

Disclaimer: I own a gorgeous coach bag and a iPod touch with 2700 songs….but not iCarly….

(PS. Don't get your hopes up, the title of this chapter in no way indicates a lemon…sorry)

OFFICIAL SEAL OF EDIT. EMMA IS THE BEST BETA IN THE WORLD PEOPLE!

Chapter 7

SPOV

Proper Porn Placement

He stayed. He stayed and I was MORTIFIED. I don't remember exactly what I said, but I know that I didn't want him to leave, and I must have said something to get him to stay.

It was early, probably before 6am. The pills had worn off and I was in some serious pain. But I didn't want to wake up Freddie. Though he looked gloriously uncomfortable on that couch. It made me smile at the way he was laying on his side, one arm and leg on the couch, and the other dangling off the side. He didn't snore, which was too bad, I would have had a fun time teasing him about that, but he just looked so peaceful in his sleep. I knew I didn't look like that when I slept. I can't remember the last time I had sleep where I wasn't either having nightmares or just restless sleep in general.

I lay in bed for while when I heard a knock on the door.

I panicked and sat up. Ready to bolt. Always ready to bolt. I jumped out of bed and threw on my shoes.

"Sam? Are you in there? Freddie? It's your mother!" Ms. Benson shouted through the front door.

As I immediately relaxed, Freddie jumped off the couch and flew to the door. I laughed at how afraid he was of his mother for VERY different reasons than I was afraid of mine.

I walked out to talk to Ms. Benson. I felt like I'd been the cause of enough of Freddie's problems for long enough and he didn't need to take the fall for this too, but when I came out into the living room, Ms. Benson didn't look angry or upset, she looked relieved.

"I'm fixing breakfast if you'd like some." She said to both of us, and then walked across the hall, shutting the door behind her.

Freddie looked at me and shrugged. "She does make a mean ham and cheese omelet." He smirked.

Damn that boy knew my weakness. Meat and Cheese.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be over in a minute." I said as I headed toward the bathroom.

I took a long shower and tried to relax the pain away. Not working. Plus, I got spoiled yesterday with Freddie's shower. I wondered if he'd let me use his whirlpool tub today.

I got out and got dressed in Carly's clothes. I sighed when I looked in the mirror and noticed that the yellow top didn't look anything like it did on Carly last week, and I had to roll the jeans 3 times in order for them to not drag, but I looked pretty cute, as long as you didn't look at my face, which was still pretty bad.

I knocked on Freddie's door and he opened it.

"Hey, before I forget, my mom wanted me to give you a key to our place in case you ever needed it for anything." He pushed a key into my palm.

"Is that supposed to be funny? I can get into your house but not Carly's?" I said.

He smirked. "I didn't think of it, but yeah, that is pretty funny." He turned and headed toward the kitchen while I grumbled under my breath.

The smell assaulted me and it was beyond heavenly. I was used to working at a diner where it smelled of nothing but grease. This smelled of butter and eggs and bacon. My mouth watered.

"Samantha, I put out another pain pill on the counter. Though your face looks much better today. How are you feeling?" Ms. Benson said as she flipped the omelet on the pan.

"I feel better. Not great, but better. I think I'll be back to normal in a few more days." I said, grabbing a handful of bacon off the plate. Freddie grabbed a handful as well and we munched in silence for a few minutes.

"So, what are your plans today, kids?" She asked, putting an omelet on each plate and handing one to each of us.

Freddie and I exchanged glances and shrugged.

"No idea." He said.

"Hadn't really thought about it." I said.

Truthfully, I hadn't. I didn't think too far ahead about anything. Every time I did, shit changed and plans got pushed to the side. I tended to live by the seat of my pants.

"Why don't you go to the lake today?" She suggested. "It's supposed to be beautiful, plus, no one will be looking for you there." She added softly, giving me the inevitable pity eyes.

I sighed and stabbed my omelets. "That sounds great," I said, a little harshly. She looked at Freddie, who just shrugged.

"Okay, then. I'll pack you guys a lunch and then I'll get to sleep. Another shift tonight."

I didn't pay much attention to what she was packing; I was too busy stewing over the fact that I was going to end up with the same pity eyes from Freddie. All day. It was going to be annoying as hell and I wasn't looking forward to it.

I finished quickly, thanked Ms. Benson for breakfast and told Freddie I was heading back to Carly's to get ready.

Before I got to the door, Freddie grabbed my hand and turned me around. He reached into his pocket and pushed another key into my palm.

He smirked. "I know you didn't lock it behind you last time, but can you lock it next time you leave?"

I nodded and turned to leave, but he hadn't let go of my hand.

"Hey." He said and turned me around again.

"I'm sorry about my mom. But I don't pity you. You're still annoying, pushy, rude Sam to me. No different." Then he let my hand go, almost to prove a point. "Kay?"

I wanted to believe him. Time would tell if he really did treat me differently or not. I could give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Whatever." I shrugged.

I went and grabbed one of Carly's bathing suits, one that I had a SLIGHT chance of filling out, and realized that today was NOT a good day for wearing a bathing suit; I was covered in bruises and cuts.

I walked back over to Freddie's. Using my key, I let myself in and knocked on his bedroom door.

"Yeah, Ma?" he said, as he opened it, wearing nothing but his pajama pants, slung low on his hips. His chest was muscular and defined, and he caught me blatantly staring at him.

He grinned knowingly. "Take a picture, Puckett."

I blushed and punched him the gut.

"Sorry, reflex reaction." I said, unapologetically, before walking into his room and plopping down on his bed.

"Do you mind?" He asked while rubbing his stomach, which was also defined. When did Freddie start going to the gym?

"No. I don't. Now please get a shirt on before I throw up all over your carpet and Freddie Darling gets in trouble."

"Please. You like what you see, don't deny it." But as he said it, he was throwing his t-shirt from last night over his head.

"What do you need?" He asked.

"Well, I wanted to know if we had to go to the beach today. I'm not exactly in bathing suit condition right now." I lifted my shirt slightly to reveal some pretty bad bruises and cuts on my stomach.

He stared for a beat too long and then met my eyes.

"No, we don't have to go to the beach. We can do whatever. I'm not picky." He said, going through his drawers looking for pants I assumed.

As he was digging through his drawers, a thought occurred to me, and I couldn't filter the thoughts before they came out.

"So where do you keep your porn stash?" I asked, before jumping up and heading toward his dresser. "Underwear drawer? Closet? In between the mattress and box spring?"

His jaw dropped and I smiled at him, still loving that he was so easy. "I don't have a porn stash, Sam."

Okay, he lied with perfect ease to my mother yesterday, but he was the worst liar in the world today. I guess I was glad my mom had picked yesterday to beat the shit out of me and not today.

I raised my eyebrows. "What happens if I find it, Freddie?" I smirked, his face looking more and more panicked.

I laughed. "Relax, I'm not going to rifle through your stuff. I don't even want to see it; I just wanted to know where you kept it. Where a guy keeps his porn says a lot about him, ya know?" I said.

He squinted. "You can, huh? Enlighten me." He said sarcastically.

I lay back on his uber comfortable bed and folded my hands behind me head. He leaned against his dresser.

"Sure!" I said, "The type and placement of porn says a lot about a guy, and not just what he's into in the sack, but how he is as a person. I mean, a guy who leaves keeps his porn in the underwear drawer is a closet perv. He doesn't want anyone to know he's a perv, but he is, and he's ashamed of it."

Freddie looked entertained by my rant, so I continued.

"A guy who keeps his porn in the closet, or someplace generally inaccessible either A) has kids or B) is into some weird shit. Sometimes both. You almost always find weird porn in closets." I shuddered.

"In between the mattress and box spring indicates the guy is lazy. He wants to keep his porn handy, but doesn't want to leave it out in the open. The guy who leaves the porn out in the open, like in the bathroom or on top of a nightstand, that's the WORST kind of guy. I mean, I get that guys use porn, I do, it doesn't bother me, but I just hate it when it's in your face. So disrespectful." I finished my porn soapbox rant, and looked over at Freddie who was still smiling crookedly.

"I can't believe you have this much knowledge of guy's porn." He shook his head. "All right then, Sensei of porn type and placement, what's the most acceptable type and location for porn to paint a guy in the most positive light?" He laughed lightly.

I played along.

"Classy porn. No Hustler or Jugs. Playboy has been around a long time for a reason. And the ONLY acceptable placement of porn is…" and I looked at it as I said it, "the nightstand drawer."

A momentary look of panic crossed Freddie's face, and a bright smile broke over my face.

"Congratulations, Freddie, you have proper porn placement. Good for you!" I flopped back on the bed, laughing hysterically. Freddie grabbed a pair of pants and went into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. I heard the shower start and closed my eyes. I let my mind wander, but before I could help it, the vision of Freddie, naked and in the shower was vivid in my mind. I won't lie, I've envisioned Freddie like this before; in a sexual way; but it was different now. Now I could vividly place what the shower would look like, since I'd been in there. Now that I'd used his soap and shampoo, I could envision what it would smell like.

I had been trying so hard to get him out of my head like this. It had been this way since day one, when he fell head over heels for Carly. I knew he wasn't interested in me like that, so I pushed him away harder, rejecting him before he could reject me. I know he thought it was because I was jealous of him and Carly, and I was at first, but I had gotten over that fairly quickly. It wasn't fair to see my best friend reject something that I wanted over and over. It wasn't fair that he didn't notice me like that. It wasn't fair that even if he did, that I wasn't even close to what he deserved.

I had convinced myself that I didn't care. That it didn't matter. We were platonic and I was fine with that. Until the kiss. It wasn't that I couldn't have stuck up for him after Tim left. It wasn't that Freddie was incapable of sticking up for himself. I simply saw the opportunity to kiss him without raising any questions, so I took it. I validated it later, telling myself that it was the ultimate validation for Freddie's reputation, and I was right, no one ever called him gay again; but the truth was that I kissed him because I'd been dying to since 8th grade, and I'd finally found my excuse.

And it was a phenomenal kiss. I knew that he'd never kissed another girl before, and I felt sort of bad for stealing that sweet innocent experience away from him, but not bad enough to wish I didn't do it. When I kissed him, I poured every ounce of my desire and feelings for him, as I tugged on his hair and pulled him into me, and I was fine with it being unreciprocated. I expected it to be unreciprocated. I expected him to not react and to think that it was to decoy Tim. But when he put his hands on my waist and kissed me back, I lost my composure. I pressed my tongue into his mouth and moaned, aware that I was getting carried away but not caring in the least. But when his hands lowered to my hips and he caressed my tongue with his, I was starting to really lose it. I was three seconds from pulling away and telling him to take me against the lockers, when he groaned into my mouth. The sound both sent me flying high and grounded me at the same time. It was so intimate and sexual, and raw. It appealed to my primal senses. I wanted him to possess me in every way and that scared the living shit out of me.

I pulled away and kissed his nose sweetly, almost a goodbye kiss of sorts. Keeping in character, I thanked him for "last night" and left Tim with his jaw hanging. I walked away and threw a glance over at Freddie. He had his eyes closed and his head against the locker, panting, and looking like he'd just has his world turned upside down.

I opened my eyes when I heard the shower turn off and I sat up guiltily. I thought about that kiss far too often. I thought about Freddie that way far too often.

When he came out of the bathroom, he was shirtless again.

"You just like being naked around me, Benson." I joked.

He smiled. "Your porn conversation distracted me before I went into the bathroom, I only grabbed pants before I went in there… I guess it could have been worse, I could have only grabbed a shirt..." He said, and wagged his eyebrows at me.

I made a gagging gesture and he put a blue polo over his head. He laughed.

"Okay, so no beach. What's the plan?" He asked.

I was drawing a blank. "Ummm…" I said, straining to think of something to do.

"Why don't we just go catch a flick?" He suggested, shrugging. "It's dark, so you won't have to worry about people looking at you, and I think they're playing something with shit that blows up." He said, smirking.

"Are you saying I have no taste in movies, Benson? Because it's possible they're playing some pansy ass foreign flick that requires reading."

He rolled his eyes.

"I'm not saying you HAVE no taste, I'm saying you have TERRIBLE taste, Puckett. A lot of foreign films are artful, and have purpose and depth. Please explain to me how robots that turn into cars and fight other robots that turn into cars is deep." He raised his eyebrows sarcastically.

"I refuse to get into a deep discussion about The Transformers with someone who doesn't appreciate their value in society." I sniffed indignantly.

He chuckled and put on his sneakers. "You have to have good taste in something Puckett, I just don't know what it is yet."