A/N: Shit, I'm like so fucked up right now, If I throw up on my laptop and jamb the keys I'm like so sorrieee! Well my laptop has THIS MUCH (LITTLE) battery left so I'll use it before it dies on meee! Disclaimer: I don't own Sammy Keeyesss! Note: I went back later to fix all my stupid grammar mistakes since I was practically passed out when I wrote this...

The next day, I marched right up to Casey's house and when his dad answered the door, I asked to go to his room.

When I was facing his shut door, I took a deep breath, tied my hair back and entered.

First thing Casey did was yell and yank his pants up.

"What the-"

"Oh my-"

"Who-"

"-I'm sorry!"

He turned to see me, he spat out, "I was changing."

"You need to lock your door." I said, "And it's not like you were fully naked, so chill out."

He eyed me and said, "Why are you here?"

"To explain."

He grabbed me by the shoulder and looked me in the eyes. "Look, Sammy. I appreciate your concern in the fact that I am also concerned in your welfare and that I am slightly offended in the fact that you subtly told me things that weren't necessarily true, also known as lying, but it would be for the best of us if you just turned around and left this room before I make you leave myself because of your repetitive tellings of false information."

I blinked, then smirked. He was obviously trying to confuse me with his words so I would just not say anything at all. Well, he may be an actor, and he may be smart, but over our three years apart he obviously forgot that I was exceptionally talented in speaking intellectually between two people, conversing in a more mature, respectable environment was my way of communicating with unreasonable, unkempt adults. (See? I'm already doing it..) I pursed my lips and began, "Casey, I can see you are trying to baffle me with your amazing skills of speech, but as you can see, they do not get to me at all. I am not here to bother you with pointless pleas of forgiveness; I am here for you to hear my case out. Seeing as you falsely accused ne of wrong-doings without any proof, I am innocent until proven guilty."

He raised his eyebrows and said, "You have the rights to remain silent."

I nodded, "I will start my argument with the proven fact that the cigarettes you found weren't at all used by me, they were used by my father who took them whilst a certain somebody was attempting to dye my hair. Witness number one: yourself, Casey Acosta."

Smirking, he said, "Solid proof would be the only thing convincing me to believe your point."

"What makes you the point of authority?"

"My room, my rules."

I scowled. "I will proceed to dialing up my father's cellular device from my own cellular device, getting full proof that my father was the main solution to the whole case."

"Proceed."

I dialed dad's number, and hit speaker. When he answered, I snapped, "Dad, this is Sammy and I'm in court. Tell me, did you take a pack of cigarettes from my box or not? You do NOT have the right to remain silent because Officer Casey is right beside me, and I am perfectly capable of tying you up the electricity wires outside with your own tongue and shoelaces. Tell me, did you or did you not?"

"Sam...?"

"Tell me!"

"You're in… court?"

"No!" I sighed. "I was joking. Can you tell me?"

"Uh. Yes, I did. I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't even be smoking. Didn't we discuss this last night, and then afterward you burnt the rest of the cigarettes in our backyard and screamed profane words at me until you cried in your room for the rest of your night, taking four different sleeping pills and forcing me to run out to Walgreens at twelve in the morning just to buy you a box of Tampax and then you had this whole PMS-y rant and rave about not having any salsa for your Tostidos until you declared you weren't hungry then swallowed two Advil dry? Then you told me I bought the wrong type of tampons and screamed some more and told me it was all my fault Casey hated you and if Cam hadn't given you those cigarettes everything would've been fine? Then you woke me up at two in the morning to massage you? And then you secretly went to MY bathroom where I walked in and found you shaving your-"

"DAD!"

"Yes?"

"Shut up please?" I snapped my phone shut, looking at Casey nervously. He was smirking. "Shaving your what?"

"Shut up," I said.

"Seriously."

"None of your business, you perv." an then I said, "And don't get any ideas, okay? My legs. Jesus."

He put his hands up. "I'm sorry, you don't have to start PMSing at me, too!"

"I said shut up."

"Wrong tampons?"

"Casey..." I gritted my teeth.

"What did poor Tampax ever do to you?"

I took deep breaths, trying my best not to pull his throat out from beneath his head.

"You were feeling so lonely you needed your DAD to massage you?" he thought this was so funny, because it cracked him up. "Salsa for your Tostidos...!"

"SHUT UP!"

"I..." he started laughing again. "I can't believe you got mad at your dad for buying the wring type of tampons. Like he would know?" he cracked up again. "Four different sleeping pills? Two Advil?"

"Please!" I begged, wanting to kick him.

He wiped his eyes, then looked up at me. "Is that seriously what PMS does to a girl like you?"

"If you don't shut up right now, I'll start PMSing at you and bitch-slap you and leave right now."

That stopped him. A little. He still tried to control his never-ending laughter.

"Are you done?" I asked, exasperated.

He stopped to look me in the eyes. "Yeah. I am." he was suddenly very sullen and stony-faced. Like he was still mad at me for something I didn't do.

Everything was back to the way it was last night- tensive.

"Okay." I tapped my foot. "Thanks for that. I'm glad you appreciate my PMS problems. Now, tell me, judge, do I win this case or not?"

He looked up at the ceiling, then stepped forward and awkwardly kissed me.

It was so sudden, and since I had fallen asleep with my face on my laptop keyboard last night, my lips had cracked and when he suddenly kissed me like that, my lips began to bleed again. I pulled away,

"Ow!" I clamped my over my mouth.

"Whats wrong? Did I HURT you?" he looked sincerely concerned. The look in his eyes reminded me of the day we first met, when I had he was swatting then little rocks off my back and arms, and accidentally hurt my bandaged arm. The way he had looked at me when he had asked, Did I HURT you?
Like he actually cared. Please. No guy ever "actually cared" about me.
What did I think? That relationships were always perfect just because you loved someone? Did I even LOVE him? I just met him again after three whole years! What if he liked someone else now?
Okay, forget that. He had just tried to kiss me, like thirty seconds ago.

"No, you... I... I'm bleeding..." I managed.

He pulled a face. "I'm sorry."

"It... It wasn't you... It's my fault,... Sorry."

"Sammy-"

I actually laughed. "Stop acting so worried! Besides, why'd you try to kiss me?" I guess I was known for bluntly asking him dumb things. (Ex: "If you're so tight with Heather, why are you holding my hand?" WHAT WAS I THINKING!)

He looked hurt. "Why did... Wait, why did I try to kiss you? Because...? I like you?"

"That's why you told me to get lost yesterday?"

"I didn't say that!"

"You meant it."

He pursed his lips. "Look, I know that kiss wasn't very romantic but I actually wanted it to mean something, so if you're going to be so stubborn about it-"

"Okay! Okay!" I laughed. "Jesus!"

My lip had, thank the gods of every nation, stopped bleeding.

"Now you look like some blood-thirsty vampire."

"What?"

He laughed.

"What?" I repeated. Okay, I admit, I was pale. And maybe my lips were reddish right now, but there is no way I looked like a blood-thirsty vampire...

My thoughts were cut off by a face less than an inch away from mine, smiling up at me. I saw Casey, slightly crouching because he was taller than me, smiling at me. He winked and said, "You win. Case closed. I'm sorry for accusing you of something so stupid." then he smiled giddily. "And don't worry, no more bloody kisses tonight. Wanna make s'mores?"

I blinked, then took a step back and laughed. "I'll never understand you, Casey."

"Please," he got down on one knee, grabbed my hand, and like a slow flash-back back-in-time replay of when I was in seventh-grade, he put his mouth to my hands and pulled away to look up at me, "call me Sir Lucan, Knight of the Holy Blade of York."

A/N: DUDE ITS FRIGGEN BLAH! Review please?