3. Chapter 3: Don't Let Me Down

A/N: Wellllll...I was going to wait until tomorrow to update...but I saw all the people who subscribed to updates...so...thought I'd hook y'all in some more! Thanx to the reviewers, I'd love a few more reviews! *hint hint*

Chapter Three

*Don't Let Me Down*

~*~ Sam ~*~

I hate hangovers. This new trend of mine, getting wasted every night, is not going to last much longer.

Still, without the alcohol involved, I wouldn't have had the guts to make a move on Freddubsky last night. Even though he did kind of reject me. Sort of? I couldn't tell.

Either way, even though Carls and Spence had opened their door to me, I still opted to stay with Freddo last night. In his bed. Again.

Nothing happened of course. Even though we were both completely wasted, and he did kiss me on the fire escape, nothing else happened. The kid's got uber-strong restraint. Or maybe my seduction methods need practice.

As my eyes finally opened and I looked around, I was aware I was alone in Freddork's room. Yawning, I rolled out of bed and began stumbling towards the kitchen. Christ, I was still drunk!

Just like the previous morning, Freddie was making breakfast. Boy definitely knew the quickest way to my heart – through my stomach. I cleared my throat, and he turned around.

Oh, god.

He was wearing nothing except a pair of pajama pants, and his body was exquisite. The latter years of puberty had served him well. He was much taller than me by now, and his body had filled out, a cornucopia of biceps and abs, topped with gloriously tanned skin.

"Sam, you okay?" he asked, ripping me out of my thoughts.

"Huh? Uh, yeah. I'm fine." I took a seat at the breakfast bar. "What's on the menu today garcon?"

"Well, for starters..." Freddork put down the random kitchen utensil he was holding...I think it's a whisp, or whippy...whisk, that's it, and then walked around behind me.

Moments later his arms were wrapped around me and I could smell him, a mixture of aftershave and mouthwash and coffee and HIM. He smelled AMAZING. He pulled my hair to the side, exposing my neck, and kissed me there, softly. I sighed. Had he not been behind me I would have fallen right off the stool. All my resolve had just melted away. Easy, Sam. Do not attack the gorgeous boy behind you.

"Morning," he said into my ear in a breathy rumbling whisper. I bit my lip, feeling my pulse begin to quicken. Then, just like that, he went back to the kitchen counter. I was acutely disappointed, but I watched him rummage around for a bit until he turned back to me, setting out coffee, advil, and a water bottle, just like yesterday.

"You've gotta be feeling pretty bad today, Puckett." he said. I shrugged.

"What about you?" I finally asked.

"I've been better that's for sure." he replied. "Now, may I interest you in a waffle?"

"Silly question, Benson. I'll take two," I replied. He smiled that adorable crooked smile of his and turned back to the waffle iron he had been fiddling with.

I wondered briefly if he could feel my eyes burning into him, but then my eyes traveled down his well-muscled back to...something else and I completely forgot about whether or not he knew what I was up to. The boy really did have a fabulous ass, and the gray pajama bottoms he wore hugged them quite well. It was probably nothing but pure muscle. I could imagine us making out, my hands traveling down his back, and then...

"So, let me know when you're done looking at my butt," he called over his shoulder. I must have turned three or four different shades of crimson, but I responded by launching a roll of paper towels at his head. I could hear him snicker.

"Since when do you give me so much shit?" I asked. He turned around, leaning against the counter to look at me. God, he was magnificent. No chest hair, which I preferred, but he did have little trail of hair descending from underneath his navel over those luscious abs of his to...oh my god. His pajama bottoms were so low slung. I could see the beginning of those wonderful v-shaped pelvic muscles I didn't know the name of. I wanted to run my tongue all over that boy! I prayed a silent prayer he couldn't read my thoughts. He had to have known what this was doing to me. Did he have any clue how sexy he was?

"Since when do you let me get away with it?" he mused, a hint of mischief in his eyes. I said nothing, just rested my chin in my hand so it could cover up the goofy smile of mine that would just NOT go away.

He changed the subject, I guess he could sense I was a little uncomfortable. "How's all the..." he made a circular motion with his finger around his face, of course referring to my injuries.

I shrugged. "It hurts." I watched his eyebrows furrow in concern.

"Gonna let me take a look after breakfast?" he asked. I nodded solemnly.

"At some point I'm gonna have to get my clothes," I pointed out.

"I'll drive you over there in a few hours," he responded while plating waffles.

"Freddie, I'm impressed. Since when did you turn into Captain-Save-White-Trash?"

"For starters, you are NOT white trash, Sam. And, well..." Freddie shrugged, setting the plate full of waffles in front of me. "If I feel like I'm needed, I help. If not..." he shrugged again. "You've just never needed my help before."

"No," I said softly. "Just too prideful to admit it. I wouldn't be able to handle all this without you, Freddie."

To that, he leaned across the breakfast bar and kissed me softly on the forehead, avoiding the bruises, and then simply pulled away. I gave him a look that was half grateful, half longing.

"I won't get physical with you until all your wounds heal," he said suddenly, surprising me.

"What?"

"However long that takes."

"Couple of days, tops," I replied, feeling my temperature rise. God, he said UNTIL. That meant he wanted to get physical with me! Here's hoping for rapid healing time!

"No," he walked around behind me again. "See, this one right here," he ran his fingertips lightly over my lips, right across the scabbed over cut. Oh, my GOD. "Three or four days. The bruises, maybe a week. We'll take the stitches out in about three weeks. But I'm talking about these," his hand trailed from my face down to my chest, right between my currently braless breasts, tracing small circles over my breastplate. Warning, warning! I felt like I was going to pass out! My heart was beating a mile a minute and I know he could feel it. "The wounds in here, those are gonna take awhile." His hand trailed to my shoulder and his other hand went to the other side, massaging my shoulder muscles, relaxing me. I sighed, melting into his touch.

"I know you'll be okay, Samantha," he whispered in my ear. Oh god, he was calling me by my full name, and it was making me feel all kinds of things. Naughty things. "But I'm not gonna rush you."

I nodded. "Okay."

He tilted my chin back so I was looking up at him, and brought his head down to brush his lips against mine. It was divine. And then it was over.

"So eat. I'll look at your back after you're done then I'll take you to your house. I'm gonna go get dressed." he said.

I couldn't even respond because I was still so caught off-guard.

~*Freddie*~

"Ow ow fuckety ow ow FUCK!" Sam hollered as she jerked away.

"Be still!" I scolded her. I grabbed her shoulder and held it in place as I pulled off the bandage at her lower back covering the worst cigarette burn. She jerked and I grimaced. I must have pulled the bandage off too swiftly. The burn was horrible. It was an inverted cone shape, burned deep into her pale skin. The top layer of skin looked almost gone! I couldn't tell if she had fell on a lit one...or if someone had really pressed a cigarette hard enough into her back to cause that kind of a wound. Either way my blood boiled just thinking about it. It had gone from an angry red to a chalky white, which told me 1) it was a third degree burn, just as I had suspected, and 2) it was starting to heal. Thank God. I checked carefully for signs of infection, then picked up a q-tip, squeezing the ointment onto the tip. It was a deep wound and I had to get the ointment into the very bottom of it. My arm went around her waist.

"Squeeze my hand, this is really gonna hurt," I warned her.

She braced herself, and I pressed the q-tip into the wound, as gently as possible but with enough pressure to really get in there. She let out a small, short shriek of pain, grabbing my hand so hard I had to grit my teeth. I pulled my hand away to apply the bandage across her back.

"There," I said. "That one's done."

She took a deep breath, recovering from the sharp pain. "That shit hurt! I guess I should be glad you're mother's an overbearing weirdo," Sam remarked. "Otherwise you wouldn't know anything about this stuff." I nudged her playfully.

"Told you my nerdiness comes in handy, Puckett," I responded. I continued applying ointment to various spots on her back. She had her head bowed, clutching the towel against her chest. After I placed the cap on the ointment, my hands went to her shoulders, rubbing them. She made pleasant little mewling sounds. My thumbs began working at the base of her neck, feeling how tight the muscles there were.

"So tense, Puckett," I teased, applying a little more pressure. The sounds went from little sighs of pleasure to soft but audible moans. God, I LOVED when she made those noises. I wanted to do other things to elicit those sweet sounds from her. But not yet. "Feel good?"

"So good," she replied breathily, making something stir in my lower body. I stood up abruptly.

"Well, there you have it," I said, clearing my throat. "If you wanna get dressed now, I'll take you to get your stuff."

She looked at me quizzically. I could tell she was wondering if I was just messing with her.

"Remember what I said." I planted a kiss on top of her head and then swiftly exited the bathroom.