Previously on "Wrecking Ball"….

The last thing I felt that night was a sharp crack to the bridge of my nose before everything else went black.

Ow. It was the only coherent thought I was capable of for several moments when I woke up.

I'd never been in this kind of pain before. I mean, sure Sam had caused plenty of simple bodily harm. And I had been hit by a truck before. But this pain, it was different. Worse.

This pain was coupled with the awkward emotional pain that I had brought on myself. Not only did I have to deal with the pulsing ache in my face, but I was sure to have to deal with much worse when I faced Sam again.

I groaned and sat up, the change in pressure actually helping my aching face a little. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was past eight; my mom was due to be home any minute. I panicked, thinking about what the living room and kitchen must look like after last night's scrap over the liquor. I sprinted off my bed and rushed into the other room, only to find it immaculate. There was no liqueur on the floor, the cabinets and their contents weren't in disarray. I took a test sniff, wincing a bit, and noticed that it smelled like Febreeze and bleach. Not Jack Daniels. It looked exactly like it had before I'd gotten the drunken call from Carly. Sam must have cleaned up.

"Huh," I said aloud. I didn't really know what to do with that information. It made no sense. Why would she bother to clean up the mess if she were furious enough to punch me in the face? It seemed to me that she'd welcome the experience of having my mother come home to a booze smelling disaster of a house.

It was at that moment that my mother walked in the door glancing at me and smiling, before the smile dropped and the look of blatant panic crossed it.
"FREDDIE! WHAT IN GOD'S NAME HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE?" She asked, rushing over and cradling my face.

I halted. What would I tell her? I certainly didn't want to tell her all about the debauchery that had gone on here last night. I hated lying to her, to anyone. It just wasn't in my nature. So, I just told the truth. Mostly.

"Sam and I got into a fight," I shrugged.

She balked. "That….GIRL…punched you?" She spoke the word 'girl' with enough sarcasm to drown a fish. It'd always been apparent that Sam was not her favorite person, but Sam would have to turn into Mother Teresa in order to get on her good side now.

"She was upset. I said something to her I shouldn't have-"

"That's NO excuse for VIOLENCE!" She exclaimed, touching the bridge of my nose and I flinched in pain.

"Well, it's definitely broken, but it feels like it's already starting to heal. It doesn't look crooked, thank God; otherwise I'd have to take you to the hospital to be re-broken."

She walked over to the freezer and brought me over an ice pack.

"You. Sit. I will make you some breakfast. What would you like?" She asked soothingly.

"Bagel, toasted with gr-"

"Grape jelly, I know," She smiled. It was the Freddie breakfast way.

I ate my bagel in silence as my mother hummed about the kitchen, making her own breakfast. She stopped suddenly and I turned around to see what happened.

"Freddie-" She started.

"What happened to this cabinet?" She asked suspiciously.

It was the cabinet that Sam had found the flask in. Suddenly the bagel dried up every ounce of saliva in my mouth and I struggled to swallow it down.

"What do you mean?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

She raised an eyebrow. "None of the spices in here are facing forward. We always leave the spices facing forward. Remember, 'Words we can't see, makes me cra-zy.'"

I sighed in relief. "Oh, yeah, I must have forgotten. Sorry, Ma."

"Hmmm," she replied, annoyed and continued to spin the spice containers the correct way.

Crisis averted. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if she would even bring up the empty flask. It would mean that I'd have to ask her why she had it in the first place.

It was Sunday, which meant that it was my mom's day off. Now normally, Sundays are the roughest days because it's 12 hours of uninterrupted time with my mother, but today, I felt lucky. I welcomed the distraction. Because something told me I was in for a LONG week.

I struggled all day trying to get Sam out of my head to no avail. She wasn't going anywhere. She was cemented into my thoughts, and the scariest part was that I wasn't sure if I wanted her out. Thinking about Sam gave me a weird feeling. Not the fear induced panic I was accustomed to. Not the annoyance or irritated feeling I got sometimes either.

It almost felt like…I didn't even want to put it into words. The idea was just too foreign. But whatever it was, I felt like I had no idea how to act around her. I felt like such a fucking girl. I seriously doubted that Sam was worried about any of this shit. But then that got me on that train of thought. What DID Sam think of last night? Was she wondering if it meant anything? It was all so confusing that I went to bed early just to get away from my own over analytical mind, hoping that a night of rest would give me the answers.

It didn't. Only wet dreams involving Sam's voluptuous breasts.

Walking into Carly's apartment the next day was…terrifying. I had no idea if Sam was already there, I had no idea if she'd said anything, and I knew I couldn't just pretend that nothing had happened, because of the mess left on my face.

I half hoped and half dreaded that I would find Sam first, so that I could get a read on how she was feeling toward me today. I had no idea what I wanted her reaction to be.

My initial reaction was to hope that she would pretend nothing had happened, but something inside me rejected that immediately. It felt wrong…no wrong isn't the right word. Foreign. It was foreign to want her to act differently around me, but it's definitely what I wanted. I wanted her to feel as awkward as I did. I wanted that night to have meant something to her.

Maybe I was just way too much of a sap. Does every kiss have to mean something Benson? Is it possible that she was just drunk and horny and threw herself at me because I was a warm-blooded male?

But her words came back to me and I heard them on repeat. "I've wanted to do that for so long….Why does it feel so good when you touch me?"

Those aren't the words uttered during a random hookup. I think. I have no idea. The only sexual experiences I had to compare to were the ones I had in relationships. Real relationships based on trust and affection. Associating words like trust and affection with Sam was like attributing words like tolerance to Adolf Hitler.

So I took a deep breath and walked into the Shay household where Sam, Carly and Spencer were all in the living room watching a show. Carly and Spencer looked up and said hello then did a double take at my face.

"Holy crap! What happened to you man?" Spencer shouted as he stood up.

Carly's mouth dropped open and then looked over at Sam.

"What did you do, Sam!" She exclaimed.

Spencer looked from me to Sam and nodded. "Ok, that makes sense," He stated and then left the room having lost interest in the exchange.

Sam took a large swig from her smoothie and shrugged, avoiding eye contact with everyone and keeping her focus on the television.

"Don't remember," she grumbled, though no one in the room believed her. Carly eyed me suspiciously, and I shrugged and rolled my eyes to indicate that it was simply another of Sam's shenanigans.

I grabbed a soda from the fridge and chose a spot on the couch next to Carly and pretended to watch TV while I really watched Sam out of the corner of my eye. I didn't seem to have any effect on her at all, and I grew more and more agitated that she was pretending like there wasn't this huge cloud of awkward hanging over us. Carly was going on and on about something, but other than the occasional "uh-huh" or "yeah" neither Sam nor I were participating.

"What's up with you two?" Carly asked.

"What do you mean?" Sam retorted, unfazed by the question. I, however, was sweating bullets.

Carly frowned. "You're both….off, I guess. Seriously though, why did you punch Freddie?" She pushed again.

Sam shrugged indifferently again. "I really don't remember, it's all blurry…" She trailed and looked at me, the first time we'd made eye contact since two nights ago.

She only maintained my gaze for a few seconds, but in those few seconds, I was able to identify everything I felt. Her gaze wasn't cold or aggressive, but soft and vulnerable. I hated being that guy that reads into every single glance, but I knew Sam well enough to know that she felt something too.

Carly wasn't satisfied with that answer and continued badgering us. "Freddie, what happened?"

Both Carly and Sam were waiting for me to answer and I looked into Sam's eyes again. Her gaze was so intense and as she bit into her lip pleadingly. My stomach did a flip. Wait, Sam was giving me butterflies? I filed that away for later contemplation.

I sighed dramatically, "Sam came inside and found a flask of Jack Daniels that my mom hid in our spice cabinet. I tried to wrestle it away from her and she clocked me."

Pretty close to the truth anyway.

Sam looked impressed and nodded. "That sounds like me," She smirked.

Carly rolled her eyes. "I can't believe your mom had a flask in the house!" She said, surprised and I laughed, completely understanding the shock in that.

After that, it seemed that my broken nose and last night was no longer a topic of interest for Carly and the tension that I was feeling seemed to ease.

I was sure that something had changed between Sam and I. I had no idea what it was for her, but I'd never seen her look at me like that. And I'd certainly gotten that nauseous feeling that I used to get when Natalie Tucker used to look at me in Chemistry junior year. It was the tell-tale vomit-y feeling that indicated what had changed for me. I LIKED Sam. And I wanted her to like me too.

I tried to keep the stupid grin off my face as I realized what it was that I was feeling for Sam, and I began trying to come up with ideas on how I could tell her. I mean, this is what she'd want, right? She WANTED to kiss me, she'd wanted to for a long time. She noticed how different it felt when we touched. There was something there. Something more. Something that I'd be a fool not to explore, even if it meant risking broken bones.

Carly interrupted my internal ramblings by indicating that it was time to rehearse. She led the way up the stairs and Sam and I danced an awkward dance of who's going up the stairs first. I finally conceded, and she walked by me, brushing her arm against mine. I felt that same something in her touch, and smiled wider, looking at the floor and silently admonishing myself for being such a giant girl.

She walked two steps ahead of me, and for the first time in years, I took the chance of glancing at her ass.

It was a bad choice. I mean, Sam's ass was a force to be reckoned with. Tight and firm, perky and round. It took everything in my willpower not to cup those sweet cheeks right then and there. Ok, I probably wouldn't have done it. My gentlemanly good sense would never have allowed me to do something so brazen and disrespectful. But my hormonal caveman side, whatever little there was of him, really wanted to. The reason the choice to look was so bad was because I was then left with uncomfortable feeling of blood rushing toward my nether region. As we all reached the top floor to the iCarly studio I mumbled something about needing to use the restroom and stayed on the top step. Carly waved her hand and yelled,

"Whatever, hurry up", and went into the studio. Sam stood with her hand on the door looking back at me and once again, I was faced with Sam's knowing smirk. Her eyes flitted toward my crotch and then back to my eyes and she licked her lips. Not in a porn star obvious kind of way, in a way that was so innocent, that yesterday I wouldn't have thought twice about it. I was thinking more than twice about it now. What those lips could do…have done…will do….

It felt like pure adrenaline was coursing through my veins. I let out a shaky breath and smirked back at her, thrilled with whatever was passing between us.

"Sam! What are you staring at?" Carly asked from inside the studio. With that, Sam flashed me one more grin and went in the room.

I tore down the stairs and went into the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it behind me. There was no way I could do any sort of rehearsal without some kind of release. I felt weird and gross to want to jack off here in Carly Shay's bathroom, but I honestly felt like there was no other option.

It didn't take much. I could recall with perfect clarity the size, weight and feel of those perfect breasts in my hands and I was done in an embarrassingly quick amount of time.

After a thorough washing and straightening of my clothes, I went back up the studio and got through the rehearsal. It was very straightforward and professional, as it always was. Sam and I had agreed to be civil to each other for the sake of the of the show years ago, so it didn't appear unusual for Sam to be…um..not kicking my ass or torturing me in some way.

After the rehearsal, the girls plopped in their beanbag chairs while I put the equipment away slowly, trying to stay in the room as long as possible with her before I was expected to return to my apartment next door like I always did. I was anxious for Carly to leave the room so I could have a minute to talk to Sam alone. It wasn't that I was trying to hide anything from Carly, it was just that I had no idea what was going on, and I wanted to figure it out before I included my best friend. Heck, I'd have no idea what to tell her now even if I did want to tell her.

I finished packing up my stuff and went to stand in front of them.

"So…I guess I'm going home now." I said, cringing inwardly at my awkwardness. I think Sam called this frontrum, when someone else is embarrassing themselves and you just feel like you want to crawl under a rock for them? Yeah, they looked like they were feeling that for me.

"Ooookay, Have a good time with that." Carly nodded condescendingly.

I grunted, frustrated, and left the apartment in a huff, mad that I didn't get a chance to talk to Sam, and irritated that I was making shit weird between all of us.

I sat in my computer chair in my room, staring at the computer screen and looking at absolutely nothing and everything that the internet had to offer, but was unable to focus on anything. My mind was spin into a cycle of self deprecating abuse when my cell phone rang.

"I'm coming over tomorrow," Sam said without any hello.

"Uh….okay," I answered confused, but elated. "When?"

"When I show up, dillweed," she retorted.

I smiled. "All right, just don't show up before 10am or you'll see my mother, and she's not too happy with you right now," I warned.

She scoffed. "A- When was the last time I got up before 10am for ANYTHING? And B, your mother…well…we don't have enough time to go through what's wrong with her."

I shook my head and rolled my eyes.

"Whatever, I'll see you tomorrow," I said, beaming.

"Sure, and Benson?" She asked.


"You better not wuss out on me this time, or I'll take out a knee."

AN: Thanks for such a great response! I'm writing this one completely off the cuff. I have no outline, which is usually a big fat no no. So I'm hoping I can keep it up, but I expecting some plot holes to come through, lol. Forgive me.

Like you're reading this piece for the plot. Pfft. Yeah, they're gonna do it. Eventually. LOL.

Thanks to my amazing Beta Emma, who deserves a medal for the amount of whiny fucking emails she gets from me. The Earl of Sandwich too, you guys are the most amazing listening board…and they are both INSANELY TALENTED WRITERS. PLEASE go read and review their stories. :) After you review this one….