A/N: This is a (very, very late) Christmas present for my FANTABULOUS lj friend ashisfriendly! So really, it isn't my absolute best work ever, but the point here is to make her happy. So, there you go. Please enjoy and review!


Spencer isn't sure when their first kiss was. He can't remember if it happened one of the times they were half-asleep on the couch or when they were out to see a movie and eat greasy food just to get out of the house. It might have been when they broke into the skating rink the night she came over and they both couldn't sleep, or when they drank all of his alcohol hidden throughout the apartment, or maybe their first kiss happened when she walked in alone one afternoon. He remembers all of them, the touch of her lips on his, and her smell of not-soap but not-dirty wafting around him. But the thing about kissing Sam – he isn't sure there was ever a time he wasn't kissing her. And if there was a time he wasn't, he doesn't want to remember; he doesn't want to remember sanity even if he is insane.

As far as he knows, no one has ever seen them kiss, and they never talk about it, so maybe he is insane, imagining the whole thing. But he does remember the first time he touched her, and he's sure it's not something he could make up. Making out on the couch one midnight he feels himself move, almost automatically, subconsciously, his hand towards her chest, laying his full palm on her breast. She moves backward for a split second before she pushes her mouth back against him. He can't get away from her for a minute, so instead he moves his hands to her hair. It takes a few more minutes until they lose intensity entirely; they end up just staring at each other silently, until Sam lays her head on his chest, where they stay until they fall asleep. When Spencer wakes up, she's gone.

While he sometimes wonders about the kisses he experiences on an almost daily basis, he knows there is nothing imaginary about that moment. So while he isn't sure about much of anything else, he doesn't doubt for a second that whatever they're doing is real.


Spencer can't decide what's wrong with the finished sculpture in front of him when Carly, Freddie, and Sam walk in. He looks back at them for a second, they all have huge smiles on their faces, and not one of them acknowledges him. Turning back to his sculpture he notices a piece drooping and he fixes it.

"I still just can't believe it!" Carly almost squeals.

"He's like the coolest guy in our grade!" Freddie says over Sam back to Carly.

Sam's arms are crossed and her tone is sarcastic. "Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence."

"What's going on?" Spencer asks, and Carly answers before Sam does more than open her mouth.

"Sam got asked out by Tony Goldman, the coolest, hottest guy in our grade!"

"Wow."

Freddie goes on, "And he's a new transfer student, so he was all unknown, and every girl wanted to go out with him."

"But he asked out Sam!" Carly practically bounces.

"In front of the whole school with flowers."

"Flowers?"

"I gave them to a hobo on the bus."

"And it was so sweet –"

"He even had Principal Franklin clapping."

"Clapping?"

"Everybody was clapping."

"Do you think he wrote that poem himself?"

If only to stop the two from talking, Spencer asks Sam, "So what did you say?"

"Yes!"

"I had to say yes." Sam doesn't meet his eyes.


For the rest of the week, Carly talks excitedly about Sam's upcoming date, and nothing he says can quite get through to her that she isn't the one going. He isn't entirely sure this fact would dampen her spirits even if she did think about it. Spencer sells his sculpture to an art gallery in New York and gets an offer for one of his older ones for a gallery in Los Angeles. He doesn't feel like a success, though, he doesn't feel happy with his big fat paycheck and a heartfelt congratulations from his father. Instead, he pulls out his clay and dives in, wrestling with it up to his elbows, and occasionally his nose.

Friday night, which he knows is the night of Sam's date because Carly won't shut up about it, ends up being ridiculously quiet. Carly and Freddie study together in the kitchen, although he doubts the legitimacy of their actions, and he talks to his clay, flinging in some paper maché. He isn't conscious of his technique, but eventually Carly comes over, eyebrow cocked.

"Uh, Spencer?"

"What?"

"Does whatever you're sculpting mean you have to cover the whole living room?"

He looks at her briefly before attacking again, "I hadn't thought about it."

She watches him fling another strip of paper maché on the piece while most of it breaks off and goes on the floor, couch, and coffee table. "Spencer, are you okay?"

"Why would I not be okay? I'm good, you're good, Freddie's good, Sam's on a date with some dreamboat that's perfect, but she doesn't even know him, and he can't possibly know her, or like her for who she really is, but he's still perfect, so whatever! Yes, Carly, I'm okay." His sculpting intensifies and Carly steps back involuntarily.

Freddie and Carly look at each other warily, and inch back to the kitchen, not daring to even whisper to each other until they're next to the fridge. "So he really isn't okay, right?" Freddie asks Carly without taking his eyes off Spencer.

"No! What is his problem? Does he seriously care that Sam's on a date?"

Freddie shrugs. "I dunno. So what if he does?"

"I'd still like to know what's up."

"A huh, sure. Maybe later. Right now I would feel safer upstairs." He grabs her arm to lead them both to the elevator.

"Scared? It's Spencer."

"Spencer in a fit of rage?"

Carly takes his raised eyebrows and scared look seriously, looking back at her brother for a second before she agrees, "Yeah, let's go upstairs."

They disappear into the elevator without being noticed, and as the elevator door closes the front door opens, and Sam walks in. "Hey."

She's dressed in something sparkly and wearing heels, her hair is done up with her face covered in makeup. Spencer barely glances at her. "What do you want?"

"I was just saying 'hey' – but you're mad, so whatever."

"Why would I be mad? I'm not. You can go and date whatever hottie you want, I don't care, I have a sculpture to create." Emphasizing his point, his throws another clump in the direction of his sculpture, almost hitting Sam.

"You think I wanted to go out with him?" Sam half-shouts, exasperated, making Spencer look up at her. "Have you ever been asked out in front of the entire school?"

"Yes."

"It's really hard to say no-"

"That's true."

"So I said yes."

"Then why are you all dressed up if you don't like him?"

"Carly," she growls "came over, picked out my clothes, and did my hair and makeup." Spencer doesn't counter her comment with anything, turning back to his sculpture, so she goes on. "And after that date I like that guy even less than I already did – he's stupid and boring and he tried to kiss me, so I had to break his nose."

Spencer drops the clay in his hands as the anger in his face is replaced with disbelief. "You broke his nose?"

"I didn't want to kiss him. I don't like him. I like you."

He can't help smiling. "You like me?"

She shrugs. "I thought it was obvious."

"Well, Sam," he wipes off his hands with a towel and walks toward her. "I like you too. So what now?"

Sam smiles back at him. "We kiss?"

"Yeah," Spencer wraps his arms around her waist, "but after that can I take you to dinner and call you my girlfriend?"

She bites her bottom lip and thinks for a second. "Take me to dinner all you want – but maybe only tell the girlfriend thing to select individuals?"

He rolls his eyes. "Carly and Freddie?"

"Yeah." She admits in a small voice.

"What about Socko?"

"Can he keep a secret?"

Spencer takes a second to think. "Okay, so not Socko. Right now anyway."

Sam smiles, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. "Maybe when we have our first kid or something."

"I hope so." Spencer laughs, kissing her again.