Sorry for not updating very soon! I've been thinking about this new action story I'm planning on writing for either iCarly or Glee but I can't publish it until I finish two stories. Or something like that. So that's why I haven't been updating. Hopefully I'll get it out of my head for awhile to write this.

Sam's POV

Ever been so humiliated and upset that you lock yourself in a dark bedroom, play depressing heavy metal music, and cry? Okay then, multiply your feelings by ten, add by fifty, and multiply by one hundred. That's how I felt that Thursday night.

Freddie had set us up on a big schmancy date with candles, Italian food, and romantic music. It was kind of, sort of nice considering I was starting to change towards him but I refused to get my hopes up—if you keep your hopes up, they'll get crushed and you'll feel horrendous. Simple solution: don't get your hopes up. Then they can't get crushed. But, problem: they still can.

I got fed up with it and called him out. He said we were supposed to pretend we were actually husband and wife; the nerve! He goes to all that trouble to woo me and then says it's an act? Total repeat of the fight with Finn. And I really liked that dude too…

I was going to run into the bedroom but then he shouted that he…he did care about me. And—if I'm correct—caring about someone is equivalent to being in love with them. Him, Fredward Karl Benson, in love with me, Samantha Joy Benson? Hold it, no! Puckett! I'm a Puckett! Shoot.

I was terrified beyond terror to face him that next morning. The night was miserable without him too. I had another nightmare but I couldn't go sleep with Freddie because I didn't want to see him. So I hid under the covers and cried from panic. All I needed was his arms around my waist and him breathing into my curls—I simply needed to fall asleep next to him. I couldn't, though, so I didn't fall asleep. Then when morning came around I couldn't leave.

Around 8:00 AM, a knock came at my door. My heart tightened in my chest; was it Freddie? Please no, no, no, no—

"Sam?" said the voice of Freddie. I nearly let out a whimper. I didn't answer him nor did I open the door; I stayed in the bed, staring with enlarged eyes at where he was. "Sam, please come out." he continued, "You've been in there too long. I know stuff happened last night but aren't you hungry?" Yes, Dipthong, I'm starving! I yelled within my brain. I did not say anything out loud for I didn't want to talk to him.

"Fine." His tone became harsh. "Just…stay in there! Why do I care?" I could've sworn I heard a mumbled "Why do I?" but I can't confirm that. Footsteps went away from the door; Fredloser was gone but I was still hungry and lonely.

Awhile later I heard the bell ring, and the front door open. I leapt from the bed and to the door isolating me from Freddie. No conversation could be heard, which frustrated me. Soon, though, footsteps came to my door again.

"Sam, you have to come out now." Freddie said, "A package arrived for you." A thud resounded and Freddie's feet were heard leaving. I waited a few seconds, and then opened my door. At my feet was a weird pad thing. It had straps coming from both sides, and the middle was inflated like a belly. When I poked it, it was soft. First confused, I then realized this was a pregnancy pad. I identified it from watching Glee. You know, that show Fredpimple and I were watching with Quinn, Rachel, and Finn? Uh-huh. Moving on.

Andrea must've shipped it out to Carly's apartment so I looked pregnant while I acted pregnant. Dang, that girl is precise. I hate perfectionists, especially marital perfectionists. Oh well. I picked up the pad and brought it into the bedroom. Once I had my regular clothes on, I slipped my pregnancy pad under my shirt, took a deep breath, and stepped outside.

Freddie was listening to A Rocket to the Moon, and he was particularly forlorn-looking as he sat at the table. Food was arranged on the table but he wasn't eating. Walking quietly over to him, I found he was talking to himself.

"She won't even eat." he mumbled, "Good going, Freddork. If Sam's not hungry because of you, you have problems. I wish I could get her to speak to me. Such an idiot." He's tortured himself enough; I had better reveal myself.

"Mmm, bacon." I said; he jumped in his seat, and turned to find me. Upon seeing my face, his became a fiery magenta. I'm confident mine flushed too but I tried to stay collected so the whole mess could be put behind us, and we'd go back to hating the other. I snatched some strips of bacon and shoved them into my mouth; they tasted succulent like every oinker did cooked. That's right, all you vegans—Mama loves her meat. Freddie watched me with incredulity. I shot him a look that said "Don't talk about it"; he got the hint, and went for his own bacon. I, however, share with no one—even my husband.

"Keep your hands back, boy." I snarled, taking the plate away from him, "This is Mama's meat. Go make your own." He looked affronted but a smile came upon his face. Doggone it, he made me smile.

"This is my own!" he yelled, "Dear." Ugh, pet names? No one said nothing about pet names. Yuck.

"Not anymore." I yelled back, "Honey." You do not know how bad that word tasted in my mouth. A smirk appeared on his face; I'll bet he enjoyed that.

Once I finished up with my bacon I craved a cup of Skybucks coffee. Don't ask me why, I just did. Freddie was still chewing on his breakfast but Mama comes first—always.

"C'mon, Fredzit, why don't we go to the coffee shop?" I asked as sweetly as I could. He rolled his eyes at me, obviously not in the mood to drive the girl he might love to get coffee. Can't say I was thrilled either.

"Fine, sweetheart." he said, grinning like he really was my husband, "I'll pull the car around." The two of us (me warily looking at Freddie's stupid grin) went down to the lobby, and then out to where Freddie's car was parked. It was strange how we had an embarrassing moment last night but then we went back to acting like it never was. I liked it but it unnerved me; like it was the calm before the storm.

Once we arrived at the coffee place, he went to go get us our beverages (after I yelled "Get my cappuccino, Freddichino", thinking myself clever) while I barfed in my mouth watching all these lovey-dovey kissy-face couples sitting around, drinking from the same cup. All of them were all "You're so cute." and "No, you're cuter!" and "No, you're cuter!" and blah blah blah. Love is so overrated with teens going gaga; I hope I'm never like that when I'm in love.

I watched one particularly annoying couple feeding each other spoonfuls of ice cream when I bumped into someone's chair. I caught myself as I fell, and stood back up to find an old lady sitting in the chair I banged into.

"I'm sorry, ma'am!" I apologized. She smiled weakly with one hand over her heart.

"It's okay," she said, "I'm fine. Oh, I see you're expecting!" Her hand pointed to my belly. I just nodded with a fake grin, not ready to explain the entire challenge to this grandma.

"Yeppers," I said, "we're one happy family now. Yay…" She didn't notice my nonexistent cheer; instead she gestured for me to sit. I know, I know: never talk to strangers. But I'm confident I could beat this granny in a fistfight if she was a secret kidnapper person. I sat across from her and extended my hand.

"Samantha." I said, "Call me Sam." She took my hand in her wrinkled one and shook it.

"Vanessa." she introduced, "Call me Van." I don't know why but the fact she had a nickname at her age made me feel much more comfortable. Guess it's because it was something we had in common.

"Which one's yours?" Van asked. At first I didn't get what she meant but then I realized: my "husband". Oh, chiz. I hoped she didn't see my awkward expression as I aimed my finger at Freddie's back. He turned at that moment so she could spot his face. Her eyebrows rose considerably upon seeing him.

"Hmm." She smiled. "He's a good catch. Doesn't seem like your type, though." Wow, you hit it on the dot, I thought.

"Tell me about it." I laughed, "He's one big fat dork. And I'm tomboy to the max." She giggled at my disdain, causing me to raise my own eyebrows.

"Classic." she said, "Me and my Chris were exactly like you and your…um—"

"Freddie." I said before I could stop myself. She merely smiled again and patted my hand.

"Your Freddie," she said, "when we were at your age. Twenty, I presume?" I just nodded. "Yes. We met here, at this very table. He came up to me, clad in his army uniform, and said 'Why, I don't believe we've met. I am Christopher William Burrows. And you are?' I said 'I'm Vanessa Faye Gatlin. No, we haven't met, and I'd prefer it to stay that way'." We both laughed at her comment; I could just picture the poor sap's face.

"I thought Chris was brash and, after getting to know him, a bit of a dork. He never flirted with me again after learning of my less than feminine nature. We stayed in touch because my sister met him elsewhere and fancied him very much. I won't go into details of their meeting, but he loved her madly and hated me dearly. The feeling was mutual.

"My sister and he went out a few times but his prolonged crush on her ended soon after he finally tried dating her. Who knows why? Anyhow, since they were no longer together, Chris's crush on her left and he went on to find new girls. Someway during that time I became one of those girls. Neither of us admitted it until one fateful day." She stopped with a faraway look in her gray eyes. She couldn't just leave me hanging, could she? I tapped her arm, snapping her back to reality.

"What day?" I asked.

"The day we kissed." She smiled. I felt myself blush because it was like she was peering into my innermost thoughts. The day they kissed was the day their feelings changed. I hate to say it but that's like us. After Fredwart and I kissed, we were more like friends than enemies. Our insults were more like playful teasing. But what if that enemy-to-friend was actually enemy-to-love? And those insults-to-playful teasing was actually insults-to-playful flirting? What if Freddie and I had been in love all along?

"In a few months we were married." Van's words knocked me out of my musings. "And now we have three beautiful children and five beautiful grandchildren. I wish you the same good fortune we have."

"Th-Thank you, Van." I stammered, trying to maintain a smile. I really was thankful she took the time to tell me her story but I wasn't thankful it aroused even more questions on my relationship. As she patted my hand, my husband showed up with two cappuccinos, looking a bit confused at my choice of seating.

"Uh, hello?" he greeted Van unsurely.

"I'll get out of your hair." she said, gazing at Freddie in a loving way. She patted his cheek like he was a tint boy. "Good luck, sonny." She laughed, and walked off towards an older man who I guessed to be Chris after she kissed him on the cheek. Freddie raised an eyebrow in my direction, but I just waved it off as I grabbed my coffee. He sat in Van's chair with a smirk.

"Who's that, your gram?" he laughed. I shrugged, taking a sip of my cappuccino.

"Nah," I said, "a friend. A smart friend."

Is it good? It's not the most eventful chapter but I'm trying best I can.