Oh look, an update! =O

"Yin needs another Yang. Yin-Yang is harmony. Yin-Yin, is a name for a panda." -Richard Castle.

"But maybe, one day – when you get a little more normal-"

Tying the laces on her skates, she turned to the boy next to her. "Dude, I still can't believe you don't want to try one."

Parker laughed and stood up off the bench. "Sorry – I either want Mexican or Italian. The combination is simply too much for my taste buds to handle."

She smiled. "Oh, I have so much work to do."

He extended his hand out to pull her up and they made their way onto the ice.

"But dinner was good though?" he asked as she started to skate backwards in front of him.

"Mmhm. 'Till Carls brought out her lemonade."

He nodded in understanding. "Ah."

"Yeah, and I would have been here sooner," she continued maneuvering so she was skating next to him now. "But I had to dress Freddie."

"Uh?" He tilted his head in confusion and it dawned on her what that had just sounded like. "Pardon?"

She laughed and rested her hand on his arm. "The kid had a date with the girlfriend and I had to help him pick out something to wear that wasn't completely hideous. Have you seen his wardrobe? Not an easy task."

His expression eased and he smiled. "Well, at least now you can add personal stylist to your resume."

"Indeed."

And it's not like she could help that the boy was completely helpless without her.

...

"So, this is a Degas?" Amy looked at him, generally interested, taking his hand as they stopped in front of the painting.

Freddie nodded in confirmation with a smile. "Yeah. You like?"

"I do. It's gorgeous."

He beamed as they kept walking through the East Wing and for a second it crossed his mind how much begging he'd have to do to get Sam to come to somewhere like this with him.

"What's so funny?" she asked, tugging on his shirt.

He just shook his head gently and put his hand on the small of her back to keep walking. "Nothing. Just thinking."

Amy just nodded and smiled. "Well, okay then." She stopped as they stepped in front of the next painting. "Hey, so did you still want to go to the planetarium next month for that exhibit?"

He paused. The new Pluto exhibit that was opening up was set up as a tribute to the former planet and he'd been really psyched about it. (He still thought it was seriously messed up that Pluto wasn't considered a planet anymore.)

Until he'd found out the monster truck rally was that same weekend.

"Actually...I was thinking of putting that off."

She blinked. "Oh?"

"Would you maybe wanna check out the Monster Truck Jam?"

She laughed. "Since when are you into monster trucks?"

"Thought it'd be something different, " he reasoned. "So you in? Or..."

"Uh..." she paused and Freddie was fairly certain he knew what answer he was about to get.

"It's okay," he interrupted her before she could finish. "We don't have to go."

"No, no," she rested her hand on his shoulder. "You should go – take Gibby or someone. Or I'm sure Sam would like to go."

"Um, alright." he cleared his throat and nodded. "If you're sure."

...

"She really locked you guys up? ...With her chicken?"

Sam laughed and swallowed a bite of her hamburger. "Well, the chicken wasn't locked up in the room we were – but yes, Maurice was there."

Parker tilted his head, amused. "Chicken's name was Maurice?"

She rolled her eyes. "Seriously, man? That's what you take away from the story?" she teased.

He laughed too, setting aside his soda and offering her a bright smile. "Well, I am very glad that Gibby saved the day."

"That's certainly not a sentence you hear everyday," she mused, picking up the ketchup bottle to put some on her fries. She uncapped it and started to pour...quite a large amount down on top of them.

She looked up at him. "You're not going to tell me that's too much ketchup?"

"Um, I hadn't planned on it," he leaned forward and squinted at her, smiling."Why? Should I?"

She shook her head no, not even knowing why she'd thought to ask. "Nevermind." She stopped as he was about to start eating his slice of pizza. "No, wait!"

"What, what?" He asked looking around and dropping the slice back down.

Sam bit her lip and inched forward to slide his plate towards her. "You can't eat it yet," she explained.

"Okaaaay," he replied, slowly. "I'll play. Why not?"

She smiled. "Just wait." She reached across the small table for the parmesan, applying a perfectly rationed portion over the entire slice. Satisfied, she picked up the oregano next before finally finishing with some garlic powder.

Perfect.

"There," she beamed, passing him back his plate. "Try that on for size, kid."

"Hey, this is amazing!" He took another bite then looked back at her. "So, who turned you into such a pizza chef?"

She laughed, and brushed her hair behind her ears. "Just...something someone showed me once."

It was all about the prep.

...

It was fifteen minutes before closing when they took a seat on one of the marble benches overlooking another wall of Degas paintings.

"Who knew appreciating art would be this exhausting?" he pondered, lightly, looking over at her.

Amy laughed soundlessly, before resting her head on his shoulder. "Play your cards right and someone may just get a foot rub later," she informed him, raising a seductive eye-brow.

"Oh, is that so?"

"Yeah." She blinked and nodded, seriously. "Me."

"Right," he chuckled and half heatedly rolled his eyes. He looked above her head slightly and his breath hitched when one of the paintings caught his attention.

"Wow."

She lifted her head and leaned her chin on his shoulder. "Hmm?"

"I just, really like this painting."

He stood up slowly, Amy following him. The canvas hung above them in a thick gold frame, the subject of the work a young dancer. With her hair pulled up, she wore an all white costume and small orange flowers intertwined in the front matching the crown she wore.

She grinned."You have a thing for Degas, don't you?"

He smiled, still looking at the dancer in the painting. Her eyes were closed, and she had one hand in front of her – the other out extended above her head – mid dance move. "I guess so." He stopped and fished out his cell from his pocket, taking a picture.

"Ready?"

He nodded and accepted her hand as they turned to leave.

"Hey – I really like your outfit."

"Yeah," he shook his head in amusement, before glancing back down at his shirt. "I do too."

...

Sam threw her purse on her couch and rested her skates against the side of the door. Feeling her phone vibrate, she took it out of her cardigan pocket and checked the screen. She saw an alert for a text she'd received earlier, but missed, and opened it as she made her way to the couch.

I know art doesn't 'tickle your peach,' but saw this painting at the museum tonight and reminded me of you. Thought you might not completely hate it.

-Freddie B

She smiled and shook her head; such a dork. The imaged loaded and she saw the dancer on the screen. She was beautiful and for some reason it made her happy that he'd think to show it to her. Admittedly, most art normally did bore her to tears...but for once, Benson was right.

She kind of didn't completely hate it. At all, really.

Clicking 'call back,' she bent her knees up on the couch.

He picked up on the third ring. "Puckett."

"So," she rested her head against the cushion and placed a pillow on her lap, "maybe all art doesn't suck."

She heard him laugh and geared up for a full recount of how Romeo's date went.

...

Freddie found Sam by her locker, and leaned up behind her. "Hey you."

She groaned, slamming her locker shut. "Mondays should be banned from life."

He shook his head and scoffed at her. "Well, good morning to you too."

Pointing the pen in her hand in his direction she mock glared at him. "It's too early for you to start with me, Benson."

He held his hand out slowly. "Carmel latte – half and half– extra whip."

She took the cup from him, her demeanor suddenly ten times brighter. "Oh, I knew there was a reason I kept you around."

He smiled as she took a long sip. "Better?"

"Mmm," she nodded before swallowing and starting to walk towards his class. "Much. Thanks."

"Hey – so you never finished telling me about skating on Saturday." He looked over as she kept drinking and waited for her to meet his gaze. She brushed her free hand against the lockers as they kept walking without saying a word. "...Well?"

"It was fun." She shrugged, tracing circles against the coffee cup collar. "I told you. We skated. We ate."

Well, that wasn't vague at all.

"Fair enough." They stopped outside of his class and put his thumbs in his pockets, taking a breath. "So, the Monster Truck Jam's the weekend after your birthday – do you think that you'd want to-"

"Dude," she cut him off, "do you even have to ask?"

He laughed. "Just checking."

The bell rang and she backed away with a wave towards her class before asking, "dinner at Carly's tonight?"

"You guys mind having spaghetti tacos again?" He paused at the sudden look she gave him that he couldn't quite read. "...I'm just bummed I missed out the other night."

"Yeah," she answered slowly, her lips curving and he nodded. "Spaghetti tacos would be perfect."

He couldn't have agreed more.

"...Or, maybe when you get a little more abnormal."

Still with me, folks? :)

P.S: As for the Degas obsession...I blame White Collar.

P.P.S: Any Psych fans catch the reference to the show? ;)