So this was supposed to be my one shot for the round the world heard cabal posting. But I'm thinking it's at least a 3 part-er…maybe more. We'll see. It's totally AU and OOC because I can't write canon for shit. Just like everything else I write, it's M for lots of reasons. Teen drinking. swearing, smut. You've been sufficiently warned.
She sat on the floor picking at her nails, the awkward silence permeating the air as we waited for Carly to return. I had avoided situations that left us alone since…that incident, and it was the first time we'd been alone since…it…had happened.
I wanted to make the silence bearable, so I started thinking of things to say. Things that wouldn't get me punched in the face or laughed at.
I was failing miserably.
I looked over at her and she was smirking at me knowingly.
"What?" I asked, irritated that Sam was always so damn knowing. Like this awkwardness wasn't affecting her in the least. I huffed in annoyance that I was probably the only one in the twosome that was overanalyzing the crap out of what happened, and I was probably the only one that felt awkward about it at all.
She shook her head, smiling widely as her blonde curls bounced around her head. I continued glaring at her, and she opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, Carly walked in with three sodas and a large plate of nachos.
Sam's attention was immediately transfixed by the chips and cheese in front of her. Any thought of the words she was about to say to me immediately forgotten. I hated how much it annoyed me. I hated how casual she could be in front of me. I hated how easily she went back to the way it always was between us.
I jumped up; the sudden urge to be as far away from her as possible overcoming me.
"Where are you going?" Carly asked.
I mumbled something about needing to fix a computer for the show, and basically sprinted out of the room, slamming the door behind me. But not before I caught a glimpse of the blonde headed demon giving me a look that could have almost been construed as hurt. But that wasn't possible seeing as she didn't have a soul.
3 weeks earlier
"Just give me the damn thing back, dorkwad!" She shouted at me, as I tried to keep it away from her. I was doing my best to be a good friend, but she was quickly testing my limit.
I was woken up from a particularly good dream involving Katy Perry by Carly, saying that her and Sam were at a party and Sam had gotten too drunk too quickly, and that Carly herself had had too many drinks to drive home. I groaned loudly as I pulled the comforter off my bed and threw on some sweats and some sneakers to pick up the drunken girls in question.
"FREEEDDIIIIIEEE!" Carly squealed as I walked into the basement apartment of some low life that was a few years older than us. Chad? Chet? Chip? I didn't know. I didn't care.
Carly was drunk, sure, but clearly in better condition than the blonde girl slumped over on the disgusting futon in the middle of the room. She was being leered at by Chad/Chet/Chip from across the room, and I was relieved that I had gotten there when I did.
I glared at the C-named dude as I lifted her up and draped her arm around my neck, dragging her out of the apartment with Carly stumbling behind us.
We pulled over three different times while Sam puked and Carly rubbed her back affectionately while I cursed them both for overindulging.
We got up to our apartment floor and Carly insisted I take Sam into my house. "You're mom's not even home! And there's no way I'll get past Spencer with her like that!"
Then she batted her cute little eyelashes and I was toast. Sam was giggling at nothing now, leaned up against the wall, and I begrudgingly led her into my apartment.
She immediately began digging though my kitchen cabinets.
"What are you doing, Sam?" I asked, annoyed that she was rifling through my stuff.
"Vodka. Need more Vodka..."
Before I had a chance to tell her that she was more likely to find a grenade in my cabinets than liquor, she shouted,
"JACKPOT!" and produced a small flask that I'd never seen before.
"Guess your mama keeps an emergency stash of…" She paused to open the flask and taste its contents, "….oh! Jack Daniels! Marissa likes the rough stuff!"
My mouth dropped and I immediately grabbed the flask from her fist. The liquor already in her system made her reflexes slower, which was likely the only reason I was able to complete the task.
"Just give me the damn thing back, dorkwad!" She shouted at me, as I tried to keep it away from her. Like I said, I was doing my best to be a good friend, but she was quickly testing my limit.
"Sam, you've had enough, I promise, you don't need anymore!" I argued, and before I could react, she stepped back to get some momentum before hurling herself on top of me, crashing us both to the floor and effectively spilling the disgusting smelling brown liquid everywhere.
"FUCK, FREDDIE!" She shouted as she grabbed the flask from me and drained the remaining few drops. She looked at the mess where it was spilled, likely deciding how desperate she'd be if she started licking it off the floor, then huffed frustratedly, her hot breath blowing over my face. It was far less disgusting than it should have been, and between the cleavage popping out of her shirt as she leaned over me and the intimate position we were in with her straddling me, my body started to react.
I pushed her off of me, half because it's what she was expecting and half because I was mortified of my body's reaction. She landed hard on her ass and I stood up quickly, trying to adjust myself discreetly and then offering her a helping hand to stand up.
She took my hand and stood up, looking up at me with a knowing smirk. That fucking knowing smirk.
"What?" I challenged raising an eyebrow, wondering if she'd have the balls, so to speak, to say what she was thinking aloud. She was nothing if not cruel to me, but this was a line that she'd never crossed before with me.
"You, uh, look like you got a big problem there, Benson." She said, her tone teasing, and becoming far more seductive than I was comfortable with.
My eyes narrowed and I decided to play into it. "Big is the operative word there, Puckett."
She swallowed thickly and I thought I saw some sort of reaction, before her damn knowing smirk was put back in place.
She took a step closer to me and leaned into my ear.
"Prove it," she whispered and then lightly nipped my ear lobe with her teeth.
It was a good thing she was leaned into my neck and couldn't see my reaction, because I'm pretty sure my eyes were ready to pop out of their sockets. I guess this is why we never had any flirty sexual banter. I definitely could not keep up.
Before I could process the absurdity of her request, she lifted her hands up my chest and over my shoulders, wrapping her arms around my neck and pushing her face further into my neck, licking and sucking the spot between my neck and shoulders, effectively erasing any sort of mental function
While my once functional brain had completely frozen, instinct led me to wrap my arms around her waist and bring her body closer to mine, allowing my hands to roam over her back and trace the curves of her sides.
Her mouth trailed wet kisses up my neck and over my chin, and I let out a shaky breath as her fists tightened in my hair. Her lips finally met mine and I eagerly kissed her back, her mouth opening slightly and her tongue darting out to touch mine. It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. All of my previous kisses had either been sweet and innocent or lustful and chaotic. The kiss was soft and sweet but sexy and lustful at the same time. It was unbelievable.
She pulled back and looked me in the eyes, her facial features softened and a genuine smile, not a smirk, plastered on her face.
"I've wanted to do that for so long," She whispered, her eyes closing in reverence.
I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion. What the hell was she talking about? She couldn't stand me! She was constantly torturing, teasing and humiliating me. Why would-
My thoughts stopped dead in their tracks and I started to process something I'd said to her in the first year of our friendship, ""Y'know, they say when a girl constantly rips on a guy; it just means she has a crush on him."
She'd brushed it off my comment then, and I hadn't thought about it since, but I was certainly thinking about it now.
But once again, all coherent thoughts were driven from my brain as she leaned in again, kissing me more forcefully and trailed her hands down my arms until she was resting her hands on top of my own, which were glued to her hips.
She gently moved them up and forward until her breasts were filling my palms. She moaned into my mouth and she kneaded her fingers over my own and the dual actions of her breasts in my hands and hearing her moan made me groan in response.
Our kisses became sloppy and unfocused as her hands returned to the nape of my neck, her fingers tugging at my hair and my hands continued to fondle her chest.
"More," she whispered into my mouth and without thinking, I grabbed her hand and led her to my bedroom.
I heard her give an uncharacteristic nervous giggle as I practically ran into my bedroom and shut the door behind us and pulled her close to me again.
She sighed as I kissed her languidly, and suddenly I stopped and pulled back, disgust overwhelming me. I was no better than that C named asshole. I was absolutely taking advantage of a way too drunk Samantha Puckett. A sense of dread overcame the disgust with myself as I realized how badly she was going to beat me up when she woke up tomorrow. I pushed her away from me and clenched my eyes closed, pinching the bridge of my nose, and willing my lust to take a backseat to my decency.
"What?" She asked self consciously. It was unnerving how much I didn't know the girl in front of me.
"You're really drunk, Sam, and you don't want this, and I just-"
"Don't tell me what I want!" She replied angrily. Ok. THIS Sam, I knew.
I huffed and tried to calm her down. "I'm not trying to tell you want you want…" even though that's exactly what I was trying to do, "I just don't want to be that asshole that takes advantage of a really, really drunk hot girl."
She looked up and again, gave me the damn knowing smirk. "You think I'm hot?" She slurred, further proving my point about her being too drunk, and pissing me off that she was trying to get me to admit something that I didn't want to admit.
"Sam, you know you're gorgeous. Now let's get you set up on the couch and you can sleep it off, and start planning my death for making out with you."
I started to lead her out of my room, when I was turned around and my back slammed up against the door.
"Stop. Telling me. What. To do." She growled and kissed me aggressively, her hips pressing against mine and her hands traveling over my body.
"Sam, I-I think-" I stuttered as her lips traveled down my chin and neck again, the coherent thoughts being driven right out.
"You think too much." She muttered.
She was right. I did think too much. But maybe she didn't understand how dire this was for me. I was far too concerned about the future of my balls and the possibility of her wanting to cut them off for me to fully enjoy what was going on.
As her hands slipped under my t-shirt and her fingers traced around the planes of my chest, my breath left my body in a gust. The sensation was unbelievable. Again, unlike anything I'd ever felt. Why had a girl touching my chest never felt this good?
Against my will and better judgment, my hands started creeping underneath her shirt and started lightly fingering the soft skin of her lower back above her jeans. She was so warm and soft. She let out a shaky breath against my neck.
"Why does it feel so good when you touch me?" she whispered, her voice genuinely confused. I chuckled knowing that her thoughts were at least mirroring my own. Maybe there was something more to us than just a volatile friendship.
Or maybe I was just validating the hell out of it because it'd been far too long since I got laid, and Sam was just so…goddamn…..hot.
It's not that I'd never noticed her hotness; it was just too dangerous to allow myself to go down that road. The change from her tomboy figure to the curvy, voluptuous one that she now possessed was so gradual, and I saw her so often that there wasn't ever a day when she just shocked the hell out of me.
There was, however, the one and only day when I looked. We were rehearsing for a show and there was a bit where Gibby and Sam were having a jell-o wrestling match. Now, it wasn't the skeevy kind with bikinis and whipped cream. This was a down and out dirty wrestling match that ended with Gibby's head completely submerged in blue raspberry jell-o and Carly declaring Sam the winner. She looked absolutely disgusting with huge chunks of blue goo clinging to her skin. Spencer had loaned us his giant coffee cup that we filled with water so that she and Gibby could get in to pre-clean the jell-o and not track the stuff through the house. So when Sam emerged from the cup soaking wet, and her yellow shirt clung to the body that I'd never even considered was under there, I couldn't even help myself but to stare. She proceeded to take the t-shirt off (where a perfectly modest bathing suit was on underneath) and pitched the soaking wet garment onto my computer cart, effectively ruining thousands of dollars worth of technological equipment. Though Carly reamed her out and asked what her problem was, she spared me the embarrassment by not answering and insisting I had it coming simply because I was a nub. I shut my mouth and didn't look at her, or her breasts, ever again.
Until now. They were right there in front of me, pushed together by some sort of torturous looking bra made of blue satin. I think it was blue satin. I could only see about an inch of the bra as I stared brazenly down her shirt.
"You could just take it off, you know. Get a closer look." She interrupted my staring and I cleared my throat, embarrassed to have been caught ogling her so shamelessly.
She smiled crookedly and pushed off of me slightly, dragging her fingers to the hem of her shirt and lifting it over her head, her blonde curls cascading back down and framing the most glorious set of breasts I'd ever seen.
I exhaled shakily as my hands went on their own accord and cupped her. I was right. Blue satin. Torturous looking device that mashed them together and up and made me want to thank god for Victoria's Secret.
STOP! My inner monologue shouted at me. This is wrong! She's way too drunk.
And I was right. I needed to stop. This was moving too fast. Even if it was what she wanted, it was too fast for me. And I still hadn't decided whether or not this was something that I really wanted.
I lowered my hands and she angrily grabbed them in her own and pulled herself closer to me.
"Sam-Sam stop. We need to stop. We shouldn't do this."
She dropped my hands and they fell limply to her sides and she took a minuscule step back.
"You don't want this?" She asked in a small voice.
I knew what she was asking. She was asking me if I wanted her. And I couldn't answer that. Everything had changed so quickly, in the span on 20 minutes we'd gone from possible friends to possible what? A couple? Lovers? Friends with benefits? I had no idea what it was that she wanted, and I didn't know what I wanted from her.
"We need to sleep on it, Sam." I sighed, running my fingers nervously through my hair.
She pursed her lips and nodded, narrowing her eyes and looking around the floor for her shirt and awkwardly putting it back on.
I should have kept my mouth shut. I should have just let her leave my room and faced the awkwardness that would be tomorrow. But no….
"Sam, don't be mad, I just know that this isn't what you want and you should be-"
The last thing I felt that night was a sharp crack to the bridge of my nose before everything else went black.
THANK YOU A BAZILLION TO MY LOVELY AND WONDERFUL BETA AUSSIEMMA. She is everything amazing and more. Her story Kiss with a Fist is fucking phenomenal and you need to read it. Now. Go. Oh. But review this one first. ;)
Thanks to Earl of Sandwich for being fucking awesome. I tried to write it better, but damn man, you're just fucking awesome. (also people, go read his shit. It's good. Like. Really. Really good.)
Also, read and review the rest of The Cabal!
For constant quality!
The Earl of Sandwich