Disclaimer: I don't own anything, maybe if we all pool'd our money though.

A/N: I'm trying my best to wrap this story up, without rushing the plot or doing a crappy job. I have another story I was working on (saved to my desktop!) paused due to the loss of rest of this one and I'd really like to get back to it.

Another switch to Sam's point of view for insight. I think when dealing with her and relationships, ones with Freddie in specific, things get lost in translation or feel out of character if there's no insight into what's going on in her head.

Thanks to all the great reviews, always inspiring to the writing process.

Sam's pov.

That night Freddie spilled his guts, after I left, I sat in the Shay's living room for an hour or so just thinking about everything. I've built a tough as nails reputation for myself, ya` know. Ain't scared of anything but in the sanctuary of my head, I can admit that the whole thing was starting to freak me out with time to really process it. Change is not something I deal with very well and here was Benson trying to turn everything completely on it's head, upside down. What really gets me is that I had no idea, not even the slightest clue. I didn't think the nub was that great of an actor but apparently his performance as 'same ole` Freddie' was Oscar worthy up until the end.

Or maybe he wasn't that good, maybe I just only saw what I wanted to see.

The days after that point were all a test, a trial by fire to see how things would go and surprisingly he was passing. Things went back to a semblance of normalcy. Even though he was apparently head over heels in love with me, he kept his cool (as cool as he could ever be). We still bantered, and fought and did crazy stuff for no reason. The nerd machine even flung yogurt in my face! All of that despite the new addition and layer of emotions added onto our dynamic. We were still Sam and Freddie and I took comfort in the fact. Some things might be changing but not everything. Took comfort in the fact and hell, maybe embraced it a little too. Fighting with the boy was still my all time favorite past time but flirting had it's perks too.

And there had been a lot of the both the former and latter in the last few days since we went out to dinner with Spencer and Carly Sunday night. Everyone enjoyed their meal except for Freddie who in the end, after a bite or two, decided he didn't like sushi after all and pushed his food over my way which earned him a pat on the head in reward. Not sure how actually rewarding it was to him but I am sure he knew he had done a good job. Anyway, more things changing, shifting, evolving between the two of us and it pains me to say (not as much as I would like it to though) that maybe I'm feeling something for the dork. I refuse to define it anymore than just something but it's there, growing in the dark like a monster ready to jump out and rip my head off. Nothing I can do about it. Every time the punk picks a fight with me on purpose and I have to drag him onto the elevator in the hall and push every button just so I can give him a headlock on every floor, the warm and fuzzies just continue to increase.

It's fourth period, my third favorite time of the day because it's right before lunch. My favorite time of the day is the last bell, and then lunch itself. I'm currently wandering the hallways because well, history is boring. It's not my fault, it just is. Bunch of crap about a bunch of dudes in the ground. I'm not sure why they keep expecting me to show up and stick around. Think they would take a hint after the last five years and just remove the class from my schedule. Shaking my head, I turn the corner and see the gym double doors off in the distance. You know what? Benson's in there right now, and making fun of his short gym shorts is as good as any reason to make my way inside. With a new enthusiasm to my pace, I move down the hall.

Past the doors and into the large space, I'm met with the sight of a bunch of kids playing volleyball in the middle of the room. Few people running laps around the space and a large amount of people just sitting on the bleachers. Leisurely, I walk further in towards said bleachers while keeping an eye out for Freddie with no luck. Lot of people in here, two classes, maybe three going at the same time. I take a seat on the third row from the bottom and rest my elbows on my knees, eyes still searching. After a minute or so, I find the nerd with his back to me talking to two guys over in the corner. Who told the kid to go make friends that wasn't me or Carly. One of the guys he is talking to seems to see me staring over and says something to Freddie, who turns around with a confused look on his face, searching for me. Once he does find me, I can make out a tiny grin that almost instantly shifts into discontentment. Bet he's going to come over here and lecture me about skipping class and a bunch of bullshit.

Freddie closes the distance between us and stops in front of me, same look on his face from before. Would have been more menacing if he put his hands on his hips or something. "Sam, you don't have gym fourth period, what are you doin` here?"

"I'm here for history class. It's a mini field trip to learn about the history of the dodge ball." Told you so. A grin overtakes my lips when his brows furrow even more.

"Oh yeah? That's why none of your class or teacher are here with you huh?"

"Nice shorts."

"Don't try and change the subject." Grin widens at his curt tone. Kid gets so worried about me not passing and graduating. It'd be really endearing if I gave a crap about doing either of said things. I shrug it off, leaning backwards against the row behind me.

"So I'm skipping, so what."

"So you're never going to pass the class if you never show up."

"So I guess I won't pass then."

"Sam, you have to pass!" He whined a bit.

"It's just history, Benson. Let's leave it in the past where it belongs and move the discussion on." I'm getting a little annoyed at this point and he can tell, so he backs off, relents. Easy victory for me, but they never taste as sweet.

He ends up taking a seat on the first row, twisting his body to the side to look up at me with that little look of his, the one he's been giving to me all week. It's annoying and secretly appealing at the same time.

"Carly had a big fight with Kevin this morning."

This is news to me. I watch him, moving hair from in front of my face. "Bout what?"

"Don't know. I heard yelling coming around the corner to my locker and they both were stomping off at that point. Carly was so mad that when I tried to stop her to talk, she pushed me into the lockers!"

"Awh man, I wish I wasn't late this morning. That would have been awesome to see."

He gives me a sour look. "You wouldn't think it's so awesome if it was you she pushed."

"Yeah right, the girl knows better than to push me. She would have gently moved me to the side and then probably came up to you and still pushed you into the lockers." I pause. "I wonder if she used the technique I taught her."

He doesn't looks surprised that I've been trying to coach Carly in the ways of abusing him. I know he's also not as irritated as he wants me to believe. Thinking on how I can read his moods so well, I guess it really was a case of only seeing what I wanted to see. His voice breaks the train of thought. "Our friend is having problems."

"They'll be fine by the end of the day, they always are. Chill, don't worry about it."

I can see him poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue, like he always does when he is thinking on something. He turns back around, looking out into the room, maybe watching the people playing volleyball. After a moment or so, I move myself down a row until I'm right behind him, shoes resting against the wood on each side of him. When I start to shift my fingers through his hair, he flinches out of habit but instantly relaxes. I start fluffing up different sections. Messing up his hair gives me something to do, it's not because I enjoy how soft said hair is, or whatever shampoo the nub uses. Totally not for those reasons.

I laugh when he speaks. "You know I comb my hair every morning for a reason."

"To make it look dumb? If you would just leave it this way, I wouldn't have to fix it everyday."

He tries to turn to look up at me but I secure my hands against both sides of his head, keeping his attention locked forward before I continue to muse his brown locks.

"Maybe I'll get it all cut off."

I think on this for a moment, mostly of a way to tell him I like his hair the length it is without him making a big deal out of it. "Nah, you'd look like even more of a freak. Just leave it like it is, I guess people will just have to deal with it."

I take my hands out of his hair and lean forward until my face is right next to his, chin resting on his left shoulder. "Besides I don't dig bald guys."

I can feel his grin against my cheek and I stay there for a second before finally pulling back. He takes it as a cue that he's allowed to turn and look at me. Right when he does though, a voice comes yelling our way.

"Hey, Puckett. You don't have gym this period, what are you doing out of class."

That's Coach Irving, making his way over looking like a big tool. I stand up and without emotion say: "Oh dear, this isn't the girls bathroom. I guess I made a wrong turn somewhere."

He gives me a look and I send the look right back at him before placing a hand on Freddie's shoulders "I'll see you at lunch."

Making my way to the doors, I hear behind me.

"Benson, what the hell happened to your hair. You get attacked by a wild animal?"

"Yeah, something like that, Coach."

I grin.