A/N: Hey, all. So this bit of rambled writing was the result of listening to some tunes while sporting my "Pudding Patrol" penny tee. The song "The Past and Pending" by The Shins, to be exact (hence, the title). To be even more exact, the lyric: Held to the past, too aware of the pending / Chill as the dawn breaks and finds us up for sale. I felt inspired.

The title of this chapter is also taken from the song "The Past and Pending" by The Shins.

The setting is (of course) the iCarly-verse, at the start of September with the characters going into their senior year; Seddie is established. However, if I decide to continue with this story, the setting will probably end up looking more like actual Seattle (I live there). I won't be able to help myself.

Anyhow, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. Though I do wish I'd come up with spaghetti tacos. Brilliant!


He felt comfortable. Not footrest and a pillow comfortable (though he was that too), but favorite pair of jeans, warm cup of hot chocolate, companionable silence comfortable. If not for the dull throbbing at the top of his head and behind his closed eyes, he would argue that this was the most comfortable he had ever felt.

The throbbing gradually increased with his heartbeat as he slowly began to wake up.

Ughh, nooooo… he silently whined. He wasn't ready to give up his comfy feeling, but the ache in his head was insistent and his mouth felt dry.

He grumbled audibly and shifted. Something tickled his nose, so he shook his head slightly to get whatever it was off. Then he noticed a certain smell. He recognized it but couldn't quite place it. Lavender, and something else. It added to his comfort bubble. He could feel himself getting hard for some reason. Someone let out a soft moan. A soft, girl moan.

Wait, what?

Freddie's eyes snapped open and his vision was filled with a mass of disheveled blonde curls as the warm body in front of him leaned into him.

What the hell is going on? Sam slept over? In my bed? He did a quick check. Naked?

He was lying on his left side facing Sam, his front pressed against her bare back. One arm was stretched out under her neck, and the other was draped over her waist, their legs were intertwined. She seemed to be asleep, though she began leisurely gyrating her bottom against him. He became acutely aware of his nudity.

"Mmm, Freddie…" she breathed quietly, barely a whisper.

Oh, holy hell!

He was now extremely uncomfortable. He couldn't feel the hand of the arm underneath Sam's neck, and he was suddenly too warm. His headache pressed harder against the inside of his skull with his increasing heart rate, and now he was painfully aroused, what with Sam grinding back into him and quietly moaning his name. He had absolutely no idea what was going on.

He took stock of his room. The stuff on his dresser seemed to have been knocked over. His small coffee table and the chairs around it were upended or on their sides, and the rockets and alien figurines from his headboard shelf were on the floor along with the books and UFO lamp that were normally on his bedside table. What the hell happened?

He had a dozen questions but absolutely no answers. Why was Sam with him in his bed? Why were they naked? Did they have sex? If they did, then why couldn't he remember anything? Was he losing his mind? Would Sam know what happened? What if she didn't? Then what?

He tried to still the hips moving against him. They made it hard for him to think. Her unconscious mind at least seems to know something…

He had to wake her up. He didn't really want to—she was probably going to hit him if she was as clueless as he was—but he was freaking out and there was nothing else he could think to do. Besides, she was going to wake up eventually.

He scooted back as far away from her as he could get with his arm still pinned underneath her neck and kept her in place with his free hand as she unconsciously tried to follow his retreat. He knew it would be a bad idea to wake her up with him flush up against her if she, like he, had no idea what had happened.

She whined at the loss of his body heat, and Freddie couldn't help the grin that came to his face. She seemed so… vulnerable like that—her hair undone, her arm reaching behind in search of him, the nakedness of her shoulder. It made Freddie want her in a way he hadn't even considered before. He wanted to protect her. To hold her, encompass her in his warmth, and just be something reliable for this girl who never relied on anyone.

Freddie shook the thoughts away and prepared himself for whatever Sam's reaction might be.

"Here goes," he muttered to himself and shook Sam's shoulder. "Sam… Sam, wake up. Come on, Sammy, you gotta get up."

She didn't jolt awake like Freddie had expected. Instead, she awoke slowly, from her feet to her head then to the tips of her fingers. She sighed deeply as she completed her full-body stretch.

While she was doing this, Freddie was able to free his arm, and he backed away further, flexing his hand desperately in an attempt to stop the painful tingling caused by the rush of blood back into the appendage. He noticed that the blanket had fallen down past Sam's breasts. God, her breasts look amazing! They're so perfect... Is that a hickey on the left one? Oh my god! His penis twitched at what the hickey might mean, and it took all of his willpower to pull his wide eyes away from the sight before she caught him ogling at her.

He sat himself up and cleared his throat. "Sam," he said firmly, looking down and turning his face slightly away from her to give her time to realize that her chest was exposed. Say what you want about my nerdiness or whatever, but at least I have tact.

Sam went still. There was a pause, then Freddie heard a panicked gasp before Sam started yanking the blanket up and clutching it to her chest.

"What the hell is going on, Benson?" she shrieked. "Why the fuck am I naked in your bed? Did you roofie me?"

He had planned to remain calm in the face of whatever Sam threw at him—words or punches—but that last comment whipped his head around and made his vision momentarily go red.

"WHAT?" Freddie yelled. "How dare you even ask me that! What the hell do you take me for, Sam? Do you really think I'd do something like that? Fuck you, Puckett!"

What the fuck! How dare she! I'm fucking pissed that she'd even think me capable of that! He gave her the hardest, meanest glare he'd ever given anyone.

Sam had been ready to brawl when she saw that she was completely naked in bed with a seemingly naked boy (he was half covered by the blanket) and had no recollection of how she had gotten there. But the look in Freddie's eyes scared the hell out of her, and she immediately regretted what she said.

"I'm sorry! Freddie, I'm sorry," Sam said quickly.

She searched his face, trying to gauge his thoughts. "I just, I panicked, OK! I didn't know how I got here or why I'm not wearing anything or why you're not wearing anything, and I panicked! I don't know why I said it, I didn't mean it. I'm sorry," she finished lamely.

Freddie was taking deep breaths through his nose and trying to unclench his jaw. Gradually, his expression went from one of rage to merely one of disbelief.

"How could you even think that, Sam?" he asked, the anger gone out of his voice. Though his expression had softened a bit, his eyes never left hers. He looked hurt.

"I'm sorry," Sam repeated. "I freaked out! I didn't mean it, Freddie. I'm sorry."

Freddie blinked a few times and nodded his head as if deciding the issue was ended. "OK," he said. "OK."

He let out a long breath and rubbed at his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

Ugh! Why the hell do I have a headache?

"I have no idea what happened either," he said. "I woke up with this pounding headache and found you in my bed with me, naked, and most of my stuff knocked onto the floor." He gestured vaguely at the rest of his room.

Sam took in the room for the first time since she woke up. Her jaw dropped.

"Holy chizz!" she cursed. "It's like a hurricane passed through here!" She gaped at the damage. "Geez, do you know what happened?"

"I'm not positive, but given…" he gestured between them, "…you know. I think I can guess at what might have happened. I'm feeling a few bruises, so I'm pretty sure..." He let the sentence trail off.

Freddie looked at Sam. She had this incredulous expression on her face, but mixed in with it was the tiniest hint of fear. It was very slight, but Freddie knew Sam better than anyone else did, except maybe Carly. He noticed it.

"Freddie?" she said.

She has yet to call me some stupid nickname. Uh oh, this whole situation really is very serious, isn't it?


She gave him big eyes. "We have to figure out what the fuck happened."

"Yeah," Freddie replied simply. "Yeah, we do."

They sat there on opposite sides of Freddie's bed, looking worriedly at each other, not touching.

A/N: I realize, after writing all of this, that this story seems very Hangover-esque. This was not my intention, though that seems to be where the story is taking me: two people waking up with no recollection of the night before and having to piece it together in order to figure out something important. That being said, I refuse to turn this into some crass, superficial piece. The characters have much more potential than that.

So, what say you? Is this story worth pursuing? I haven't written any further yet.