5. Chapter 5: And I Love Her

A/N: Thanks for all the great reviews everyone! Chugging along with this story, I have another less serious story in the works but my power went out last night and I lost most of it, so it's back to square one! This chapter's a little short but I'm just setting the stage for a few surprises hehe. Enjoy! *

Chapter Five*

And I Love Her*

~* Freddie *~

Sam had been asleep for almost three hours. I let her, she needed it.

Spencer and Carly had been in my apartment for about fifteen minutes, after I sent a text to them that I had calmed her down. Carly, of course, chastised me for waiting so long, but Spencer came down on Carly, reminding her that Sam could be easily overwhelmed right now and didn't need to be around a bunch of people. We were all sitting in my apartment living room, still stunned by the day's events. Because that son of a bitch hurt my Sam.

"What do we do?" Carly asked.

"What can we do?" I responded. "Other than just be there for her." Because killing cops who touch little girls is illegal.

"I don't know, but...he can't just get away with it! She could've died, Freddie!" Because that bastard tried to shoot her.

"I don't want to think about that," I said softly. "Spence, how's the hand?"

"I'll live," he replied. He paused, the non-injured hand over his mouth. "Okay, so, we have a cop who likes to beat up and try to rape teenage girls. And I have no fucking clue how we're gonna fix that."

"I just wanna fix her!" I blurted out. "She's not the same Sam!" My beautiful, untamed wild child was gone, and in her place was a fearful little girl.

"She'll come back, Freddie," Spencer said reassuringly. "She will. Just be patient."

"Thought I heard you nubs talking about me," a familiar voice announced. Carly, Spencer, and myself all turned to see Sam walking into the room, hair disheveled and eyes still red and swollen from all that crying. She couldn't hide the fact that she had fallen apart today. But the facade was back up, which meant her brain was engaged. And that was a very good sign. She sat down next to me tentatively, so close she was nearly sitting on top of me. My arm went around her. She tried to move closer.

"Sam, are you okay?" Carly asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Minor breakdown, that's all." She was trying so hard to be nonchalant. "I'm hungry."

I stood up. "I'll order a pizza." I was in no mood to cook right now.

She nodded, pretending not to care about anything. "Bacon and ham, extra ham."

"You got it, Miss Puckett," I responded, and began dialing the number of the nearest pizza delivery place.

~* Sam *~

After I had eaten half a pizza, Frednubs had all but shooed Spence and Carls out of his apartment. I know he wanted to talk about my outburst in the middle of his apartment a few hours ago. And my mental breakdown. And my catatonic state. And me puking all over his car. But I didn't want to talk about any of that, and I wasn't going to.

I noticed the lights had gone down, the only light that lit the living room were those battery operated candles. There were about eight of them in total, all operated by a remote. I looked around and then looked at Freddie.

"What's going on nub?" I asked.

"Take off your shirt," he said quietly.

"But you already messed with my back today, Fredweird." I replied. He walked towards me, staring me down.

"I know," he responded. He sat down on the couch next to me and physically turned my body so it was facing away from him. God he was strong. And then he started playing with my hair, his fingers massaging my scalp. It felt SO good. I purred. Like a cat. Embarrassing.

"Just relax," he whispered into my ear, sending a flush of color across my cheeks as I realized his husky voice turned me on. I'd been shot at today; being turned on couldn't be normal. Maybe this was some weird form of post traumatic stress disorder. His hands moved to the back of my neck, massaging it like he'd done earlier in the day. In spite of everything, I was beginning to relax a little bit.

Suddenly, his hands moved to the hem of my shirt and swiftly pulled it over my head.

"Wha-?" I gaped at him.

"Lay down," he told me, standing up to give me room. "On your stomach."

"Why?" I asked, slightly alarmed.

"Trust me Puckett. I promise I'm not gonna hurt you."

Slightly wary, remembering this morning's incident with the q-tip, I laid on my stomach across his couch and eyed him curiously as he settled down next to me. His hands began kneading the tightly wound muscles of my back, careful to move around the burns and cuts. Oh, wow. I loved his hands. A small moan escaped my lips, despite my best efforts to keep it hidden.

"Relax." he kissed my shoulder blade softly. "I got you, baby."

At the sound of 'baby', my eyes popped open and my head turned to stare at him in shock. Baby? Please don't let this be a sick joke. He simply kissed me on my forehead and told me to relax again.

The idea of trying to relax after being shot at was nearly laughable, but whatever he was doing, it was working. The tension in my muscles started to melt away until my muscles just felt like jello. Oh, man. Please don't ever stop touching me.

"Feel good?" he murmured, brushing stray strands of hair off my back.

"Mmmm," I moaned.

"Good." His hands moved lower, skipping over my shorts and massaging my legs. "So tense," he whispered. "We can't have that, can we?"

But I'm tense because your hands just grazed my thigh. And because I want you do it again.

"No..." I purred.

"Is this helping you?" he asked. I nodded.

"I feel safe with you," I said in a soft voice. "So safe."

"Good. That's how I want you to feel, Samantha." He kissed my bare shoulder. Oh god. Anyone else who called me by that name would get a well-deserved punch to the face, but it DID something to me when he called me Samantha. Something good.

Despite everything that had happened, just in the last 72 hours, right now, with Freddie's hands all over me, the candlelight casting flickering shadows on the wall, the soft music, and oh god, Freddie's hands. Right now, I was in absolute heaven. But I wanted more. NEEDED more. I flipped over, surprising Freddie.

"Freddie," I breathed, my chest heaving up and down. His eyes went to my bra-covered chest and then back to my eyes. I could tell he was mentally scolding himself.

"Sam," he responded, but his voice rose to more of a warning than a breathy wanton whisper like mine. "Don't do this. Not in the state you're in." The only state I was in right now was arousal.

"Freddie please, just...please." I reached out for him. "Take my mind off all of this." I needed his mouth on my mouth. His tongue on my tongue. His body pressed against my body. I sat up, my hands on his waist, pulling him down towards me.

"Please," I beg him again, staring into his eyes. I could tell he was engaging in a battle of wills in his mind. He didn't want to take advantage of me while I was vulnerable, I got that. But if the boy had any idea how many hot fantasies had been seared into my cerebral cortex ever since the first time we kissed, he'd know that this had nothing to do with vulnerability. I just wanted him. I just needed him.

Freddie sighed, and without warning, his lips came crashing down on mine passionately. I moaned into his mouth as I leaned back into the couch, him following me. Finally. Oh, he tasted so good. Without the alcohol taste from last night, he tasted even better. I kissed him eagerly, my hands running over his biceps. God, they were so hard. He must spend all of his free time working out! My leg crept around his back and locked on. He drew in a deep breath, his tongue working its way in and out of my mouth. The cut on my mouth hurt, but I didn't care. It was the most exquisitely pleasurable pain I had ever felt. Freddie's fingers tangled through my hair, holding my head steady for his mouth's hungry onslaught. I could feel the rumble of him groaning against my lips. I moaned again.

We made out like that for I don't know how long, except I know it wasn't long enough. Finally Freddie tore his mouth away from mine, gasping for air. "Dammit, Sam!" he growled. "Don't make me lose control with you, please." He quickly sat up. I laid there, perplexed, confused, feeling rejected.

"I don't want it to go any further until we can get that bastard out of your head," he said before kissing me. "I don't want you confusing him with me." Did he think I was a looney? Freddie, love of my life! Bill, sick twisted bastard! There was no way I could ever confuse the gentle way Freddie touched me with the searing pain of Bill's cigarettes.

"Freddork!" I exclaimed. "I could never..."

"Sam, please?" he pleaded with me. "Please. I can't control myself forever. I want you to be healthy before we go down that road. I want you to be the Sam I know and love." L word? Love? Did he say that? Or was it a hallucination?

I stared at him. "Love?" Oh, the way he looked into my eyes. Like he could see into my soul. My dark, twisted, artery-clogged-from-too-much-red-meat soul.

"Sam, you've been so, so blind. I love you. I've loved you since the first time I kissed you," he breathed. "I-"

I cut him off by pressing my lips against his passionately, I can hear him whimper and I know his resolve is caving, so I stop. "I'm sorry. I'll stop." For now.

"Thank you." he said. "Just, try to understand where I'm coming from. I don't want to hurt you."

I nodded. "I know."

He got up off the couch. "Roll back over, I'll finish your backrub."

I obliged. At least I could still feel his hands on my body. That was heaven.

And at least I finally knew.

Fredward Benson LOVED ME. Me! I beamed as I buried my face in the couch, hiding my stupid grin from the drop dead gorgeous nerd who had saved me.

I loved him too.