A/N: I know, I know. It took me WAY too long to get Part II posted, but here it is. Enjoy.

Part II

Sam was unnaturally warm, even though she could feel how cold it was in the rest of the room. Her eyes drifted open and met the white cotton of a T-shirt. It was then that she felt the agonizing pain and nausea of her first hangover. Vaulting from her bed, she ran to the bathroom, just in time to make it to the toilet and spare herself the difficulty of having to clean up the mess that would have been left if she hadn't. She finished her business and reached out to flush the toilet. She balanced herself on her heels, clutching her stomach and hanging her throbbing head.

What had happened the night before? She couldn't recall a thing, and that scared the living daylight out of her. Luckily, she had ended up in her own bed and not that of someone she didn't know. But what was with the white cotton?

Standing up slowly, so as not to further agitate her rattled body, Sam checked her appearance in the mirror, nearly laughing aloud at what she saw. Still, she was clothed in the black attire she had picked for the night before; her eyeliner was smudged; and her hair was a birds' nest. She brushed her hair straight, regrettably adding more pain to her already pounding head. Next, she washed the makeup from her eyes, sighing with relief when she appeared semi-normal-looking. She brushed her teeth to get rid of the remaining alcohol flavor. Now, she just had to ditch the clothes, slip into some pajamas, and go back to sleep to pretend like she had never been to a party.

She exited the bathroom after taking a painkiller, about to shed herself of her day-old clothing, but she paused when she saw the boy in the white cotton tee sleeping in her bed. Danny.

Sam stepped forward, examining his sleeping form. His messy hair hung in his eyes, and he was lying on his side, one arm, that had no doubt been the one encompassing Sam and keeping her from the cold, flung in front of him.

She smiled at him, a smile meant for no one but him, a smile that he would probably never see unless she told him how she felt. Her heart beat solemnly, and she moved to sit on the bed, glancing at the clock to find it was merely half past six in the morning.

Yawning, Sam reclined on the bed and stared at the ceiling. She didn't have any idea why Danny was in her bed instead of back at his house, but his presence gave her a pleasant feeling. It wasn't long before she drifted back to sleep.

There was a quiet rapping at the balcony door, and Sam's eyes shot open. Once again, she was in Danny's arms, and she sighed with remorse as she left them. She was glad to note that her headache had eased to a dull throbbing in her temple. "Tucker?" she whispered as she opened the door.

Tucker was standing on the balcony, cradling a videogame in his arms. "Sam, this is the best game ever!" Tucker exclaimed, his bloodshot eyes proving that he had indeed played the game for hours on end after he had gotten it. Seeing the blank look on Sam's face, he frowned. "You did tell me to bring it over after I beat it; right?" he asked.

Sam glanced back into her bedroom at a sleeping Danny. "Uh, yea. I think so," she replied distractedly.

Tucker peeked over her shoulder and caught sight of Danny, his gaze coming back to hers in shock. "I didn't think you'd actually tell him!" he admitted, lowering his voice, in spite of his excitement.

Sam rolled her eyes. "I didn't. I don't know why he's here," she stated ruefully. "He sleeps like a log though. That's probably his version of a hangover." She looked back into her room again, a tender smile adorning her lips. "Why aren't you hung over?" she asked curiously.

"I only had that first drink. It was nasty. I don't know how you were able to drink more of it," Tucker declared with a disgusted look.

Sam moaned. "I wish I hadn't."

"Well, I should get going. Here." Tucker handed Sam the game, turning to leave. At the edge of the balcony, he looked back with a witty leer. "And you should tell him," he repeated. With that, he began descending the lattice.

Sam was about to close the door when she heard a thump and a muffled, "Ow!" She laughed and entered her room.

The door slammed shut louder than intended, and Danny's eyes flew open. He looked around disjointedly for a few seconds before spotting Sam. He relaxed and grinned at her sheepishly, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Hey," he said.

Sam smiled. "Hey."

Danny looked around for a clock. "What time is it?"

"Around noon. You sleep like a rock," Sam replied with a laugh. "What happened last night?"

"You mean this morning," Danny corrected teasingly. "You got unbelievably drunk," he affirmed simply.

Sam chuckled. "Yea, I can feel it. Anything else?"

Danny shrugged. "I had to walk you home, so you wouldn't get hurt or anything-"

"My hero," Sam joked.

Danny gave her a wan smile. "That's what you said this morning. You-uh-didn't want me to leave; so, I stayed," he concluded. He wasn't about to mention the kiss. It would be too awkward he assured himself.

Sam sighed. "I don't remember anything, which is kind of freaky," she confessed.

"Well, I read somewhere that alcohol does that to a lot of people," Danny said as a way of comforting her.

"It's still weird." Sam walked over to the bed and sat down near Danny's feet. "Listen, Danny, I-um-have something I need to tell you," she said tentatively. "I-"

"Wait," Danny interjected. He had to get it off his chest. "Last night . . ." He cleared his throat. "Last night, you told me you loved me-" He paused upon seeing her stunned looked. "I mean, I'm sure you meant just as a friend and not as anything else," he pressed forward, surprised at the way his hands were shaking. He clenched them into fists as he rambled on. "But even though you were drunk, you still sounded really nervous and unsure of yourself, and I just want to make sure that you know that I love you, too!" He finished his last words with a gasp for air.

There was a short silence on Sam's part as Danny tried to regain his breath.

"Just as a friend," Sam repeated levelly.

Danny caught the flash of pain in her eyes, and a butterfly of hope fluttered in his mind. "Yea," he lied slowly, watching her every move.

Sam let her hair fall in her eyes, trying in vain to mask the emotions she was feeling. "That's great!" she finally responded a tad too cheerily, though the hoarseness from restraining unshed tears disclosed the insincerity of that cheeriness. She coughed, looking up. "Tucker brought over his new game," she stated, venturing onto safe ground as she held up the game. One glance at Danny's befuddled expression, however, yanked her back to where the Earth was crumbling beneath her feet.

Danny began standing, nodding. "I should probably go then and let you play it," he suggested.

Sam bit her lip. "Yea." She got up to follow Danny onto the balcony. "Danny," she said just as he was going ghost. He turned to look at her. "Could you just wait a second? I have to make a call."

Danny Phantom gave her a quizzical look but shrugged. "Yea, sure." He flashed her one of his trademark grins that melted her shattered heart.

Sam fled into her room, before her weak knees could betray her, and pulled her cell phone out her pocket, pressing the speed dial for Tucker's number. He would know what to do; he always seemed to know.

As the phone rang, Sam sat down on her bed and watched Danny waiting outside her room, trying her best to keep a sappy smile from her face as the sun glinted off his white hair. Think platonic love.

"Hello?" Tucker's voice called over the phone.

"Hey, Tuck. He said he loves me as a friend," Sam began without preamble.

"So, you told him?" Tucker asked skeptically.

"Well, not exactly, but-"

"Sam! You need to tell him. He's not gonna say anything about how he really feels-and I know how he really feels-if he doesn't know how you feel first! He's Danny!" Tucker interrupted with passion.

"I . . . I can't," Sam conceded. "He said-"

"I don't care what he said! You have to fight for what you want! For example, this morning, at two a.m. sharp, I wanted Death Force 7. If I hadn't fought past those yelling, psychopath gamers-" He paused in reminiscence. "-and to the counter, I would never have been able to virtually kill people for eight hours straight. Now-"

"Tucker," Sam interposed, "are you on drugs?"

"No, Sam, I'm not on drugs," Tucker replied seriously. "I'm just sick and tired of watching you fall deeper and deeper in love with Danny and not do anything about it! Even if he says he hates you, you need to fight and let him know that that is not acceptable!"

There was a noiseless pause over the phone line.

"Dammit, Tucker, you're right!" Sam cried suddenly, with a hint of incredulity in her voice. "I'm telling him!" She was about to snap the flip-phone shut, but she paused and put it back to her ear. "And thanks. You're a lifesaver."

"It's what I do," Tucker responded solemnly. "Now go!"

"Right." Sam hung up and tossed the phone on the bed decisively. She stood up and walked briskly to the balcony door.

Danny was standing with his back to the door, staring out at the cityscape. Sam reached him and touched his hand, and he pivoted to face her. She put her hands on his shoulders, and as she pressed her lips to his, he changed back into Danny Fenton. Just as he began to kiss back, she contritely pulled away. "Danny," she started, trying to rid her voice of its breathless tone, "just as a friend isn't good enough."

She was surprised to see the relief in Danny's blue eyes. "Thank God you said that," he muttered, drawing her into his arms. "I knew I wasn't brave enough to say it. You're my hero."

Sam recalled how close she had been to giving up on everything, shaking her head. "You should be thanking Tucker; he's the real hero."

Danny backed up a step and held her at arm's length. "What?" he asked confusedly.

Sam sighed in exasperation. "Please don't make me explain right now," she begged, stepping forward for another kiss, and it must be said that at that point in time, Danny had no intention of trying to continue the conversation because, frankly, with Sam in his arms, he couldn't care less who the hero that had saved them was.

A/N: And that's it. A tribute to the under-appreciated. Review if you like.