a/n: So, I wrote this as I'm currently in a Seddie mood. It's unexpectedly not as dark as I thought it would turn out; I actually kind of like writing some light stuff. However don't get me wrong, it still has angst and dark stuff, but not as much as I would've normally put in. Also, I'm listening to Miranda Cosgrove's High Maintenance as I'm writing this, so don't blame me if it isn't what you're expecting or whatever.

It's actually kind of nice, despite the summary. I think the ending is a little weak and could've been done better, but all in all, hopefully you guys will like it somewhat. I had fun exploring other pairings and TV shows (Victorious, Glee etc.) but Seddie's still my first and favorite pairing ever. This is kind of a future Seddie fanfiction, like my take on what happens before and after iOMG, as in they're just friends at first, and then what happens when they finally become a sort-of-couple. The title and quote below is from a poem I'm scratching together. :)

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in a pool of gray, you are the spot of color

.

—

She's lying on her bed, the bedspread fresh and warm, and heavy downpours are inevitable.

Sam looks at the rain, it falls and falls and makes a fresh atmosphere, and then she flips the pages of the boring magazine. She doesn't want to remember or stumble on any pictures framed in black and white, or anything that reminds her of her past. She does, actually, remember fire escapes and meatballs and first kisses, but then she chokes on her breath and starts to run out of oxygen.

She doesn't want to think about it, because thinking about it (about him) will ruin everything, make her feel and she doesn't want to. She wants to push away the thoughts and memories and haunting and unpleasant images aside, she wants to forget about all the things she left unsaid and wants to smile through the blinding light and just brush everything off.

She closes her eyes, and then for a moment she sees a flash of dark hair and blood, so then she opens them hurriedly and blinks the thoughts away and breathes heavily. She doesn't want to remember, she doesn't even want to think about it.

—

She looks up - the sky hovered by stars, and then she twirls with her windswept hair. He stares at her, eyebrows furrowed and breathing heavy, and then she's smiling deviously and stepping up on her tiptoes and her hands are almost at the top of the fence.

"Sam, get down from there," he says, a trail of concern and worry coloring his tone. She looks down, smirking and wiping her hair off her face, the wind blowing against her skin and making a shiver go down her spine. At the end of the park she thinks she sees them, strumming their guitars and smiling excitedly, and then she notices the teenagers lining up and handing tickets over and can't help but think, idiots.

"Sam, we are not breaking into the concert," he says, his tone louder than before. "I have enough money to buy us our own pair of tickets, no need to break the law!" He gets her attention, but she looks down and smirks and then, at the top of her lungs, she replies, "Ah, spend it on some overpriced, ridiculous, tech junk crap." In all honesty, he really shouldn't have expected anything less from her.

"I got it," she announces, gripping the end of the silver streetlight and turning around. In a skilled and stealthy motion, she wraps her legs around the top of the streetlight and leans over backwards, sliding towards the grass but stopping halfway. She notices him biting his lower lip nervously and rolls her eyes before spinning back forward and landing on the ground safely on her toes.

Who had guessed that all those years of dancing would paid off one day? Sliding her hands across the pavement, which results in a painful stinging in her palm, she cups her hands around her mouth and calls out his name. She thinks she hears his heavy breathing from the other side, so she slams the fence and yells at him to hurry up, and when he tries to slide down the streetlight, he falls on the ground.

She bends down, her arm on her right knee, and an eyebrow challengingly raised. "You okay, Benson?" She asks, feigning concern and sympathy. He shoots her a glare from the ground and she laughs, and then she offers her hand and pulls him up. They stand in the middle of the concert, the upbeat and catchy beat making everyone dance, and then she falls against him and laughs.

"I'm gonna get into so much trouble," he says, glancing at the time, but then she just looks up at him with sparkling eyes (bright and blue and seemingly endless, icy and capable of possessing the ability to make you feel her emotions) and gives him an almost-smile.

—

A cold breeze hits her, just as she's sitting on his fire escape, and too many memories flood towards her.

She blocks them out, quickly and absolutely, and feels no pain whatsoever as she leans her head against the windowpane. It's familiar, it's all too familiar, and he's sitting on the stairs and staring at her. She brings her knees up to her chest, blinks for a second, and then looks up at the whisking plane.

She remembers jumping over the fence with him and sneaking into a Cuttlefish concert, and even though he didn't allow her to go backstage and meet the band (she's a little peeved at him, but she'd rather stay silent for a while) she still almost smiles to herself on the way back. Her hands still hurt from sliding them across the pavement, though.

"I really don't care," she says even though she doesn't remember what they were talking about. He looks up, right at her, and really looks at her, straight in the eyes and she blinks so she won't drown in chocolate.

"You do." He whispers, like it's some destructive, highly classified and confidential secret that no one should know about (it actually is, ironically). She looks up and she thinks her eyes are wet, but then she thinks again and breathes out. She pricks her fingernails and then whispers, "I hate you."

—

She doesn't really do this, normally.

She's sitting in the middle of the library, a book cradled in her lap, her sunshine coiled locks dancing around her face. He's looking past the row of books, eyes searching for the Romeo & Juliet book he's been looking for the past few days, and she's sighing heavily as she flips the looseleaf pages of the boring book that's made up of words she's never heard of and characters that are too melodramatic for her liking.

"This is stupid." she declares, rolling her eyes as she sits upright. "Remind me again why I stupidly decided to come accompany you to the library? There's nothing to do." She finishes, and he e turns to her sighing exasperatedly as he runs his hands through his tousled hair.

"English class," he says finally, returning back to the row of cramped books. She raises an eyebrow; noticing a book about three inches above him, a beautiful dark-haired girl sits underneath a tree, leaning into an equally beautiful blonde-haired boy. She leans over, grabbing books and flipping the pages, her mouth slightly ajar as she brushes her blonde locks away from her eyes.

She looks up, a faint grin on her face, long enough for him to see that her icy blue eyes aren't as dark as they were earlier; they're bright and beautiful, an appealing shade of aqua-like ocean blue. She leans against the row of books, breathing in heavily as a comfortable silence occurs, and looks up at the familiar book once again as she pricks her fountain blue nails.

She instantly identifies it as Romeo and Juliet, but she stares at it with disdain. She doesn't really think it's possible for two people to look that compatible, that beautiful, and it seems so perfect it's imperfect. Standing up and reaching for the book, she thrusts it to him with force, almost knocking him over. His eyes darken in shock and confusion, but then he reads the title and a smile lights his face.

"Thanks," he says, looking up at her. Grabbing her thinks and yanking his collar, she replies, "Whatever, nub. Let's just get you to the librarian before I die of boredom." He doesn't protest as she pulls him to the counter, and even though eyes are staring at them and people are whispering to each other, she figures he appreciates her somewhat niceness.

—

She wonders how she ended up here, kissing him inside a dark classroom.

Sam's never been one for classrooms, or school, or staying back in general. She doesn't really have a choice when a lock-in occurs, and then he has to come over and make a speech about how he just wants her to be happy and all that crap, and then she doesn't really know why, but she just kisses him in the middle of his incredibly long conversation.

So when she breaks away, she notices his eyes darkens with confusion and he furrows his eyebrows together, and then guilt washes over her in waves and paranoia sets in. Her heart starts to beat excessively and all she can really think is, oh crap. And before she has the chance to get up and do what she does best, which is evidently running away from everything (good and bad), he presses his forehead against her and kisses her.

She doesn't quite understand what happened, or how they've even got here, but they stand in the middle of the classroom for who knows how long, and when they finally pull away from the lack of oxygen, she breathes in heavily and her heart races. "You kissed me," she says, and it sounds more like a question than a statement. He looks at her, eyes lightening before a smirk finds its way to his lips.

"You started it."

—

So, then, the next day when they enter the school, the whispers start.

She doesn't think they've ever paid this much attention, and she doesn't really think they're capable of figuring it out since she doesn't allow him to hold her hand or anything that would give everyone the idea that they're together now. However, they can figure it out themselves, the way that she leans in a little too close, they catch the secret smiles and glances and the fact that their fingers brush almost accidentally.

And after school ends, he buys her a cherry flavored snow-cone, and she licks it under the hot heat. The sun is shining mercilessly, and she has to fan herself with her books and let the looseleaf pages stick onto her hands. She notices people's eyes lingering on them, she notices them marveling on how unexpected it was, and she doesn't really think otherwise.

"You know, I'm getting really sick of the glances and whispers." She says, furrowing her eyebrows as she lets out an annoyed sigh. He almost smiles, but he settles for patting her back mainly because he knows it'll get a rise out of her (and it does). She looks up, an eyebrow raised and tilting her head a slight inch to the right, assuming one of her many challenging poses.

"You suck," she says, and then he smiles, but it's her turn to laugh as she throws the empty snow-cone cup at his head.

—

She's used to being broken, but not to being fixed.

She kind of likes the way he smiles at her when he thinks she's not looking, when she rubs off him and he picks up her habits, she leaves marks on him like she owns him and everyone notices. She likes that even though she won't let him hold her hand or let him call her his girlfriend, he still stays by her side and puts up with all of her nonsense and ridiculousness.

She steals his heart and takes it with her wherever she goes, but then whenever she leaves he follows. She tells herself it's not love, she's merely taking a liking him, that's all. She's not falling in love because she can't, she won't, she won't fall in love because she knows what it does to people (like her mother, in particular, chasing after men who use her and stay with her for a brief moment before throwing her away).

She doesn't like it, however, when they walk into school the next day and everyone stares. She glares at everyone whose eyes linger longer than they should, and grunts when the AV Club come over and smile idiotically. She groans throughout Carly's frequent "I told you so" and "it's just what you get for not being able to keep your lips off his" or something equally, you know, annoying.

He still buys her bacon, though, everyday. She never thanks him for it, she just grabs the bag from his grasp and gobbles them down, and he looks at her like she's the best thing in the world. Normally, she would've said something along the lines of "wipe that grin off your face" but now, she can't believe she's even thinking this, she actually kind of likes it, the smiles, the glances, the attention.

(She also likes the fact that they haven't changed, not really, because they still fight and bicker and say words that are better left unsaid. But now he kisses her instead of apologizing, the message is still the same nonetheless, and suddenly her lips are too busy to say it's okay).

—

She didn't expect it to hurt.

Of course she saw this coming - they're not the type to last forever and ever without a single breakup or a ridiculous argument, but she didn't expect it to happen so soon. And as she stares at him, she thinks her eyes are wet, but her hands are shaking and she's showing fear, so really she doesn't think it could get any worse than this. She didn't think someone could feel this bad, but she does, and she hates it with every inch of her being.

"I hate you," she says. It's not a surprise hearing those words leave her lips, she's said it so many times, in different ways, and it didn't really mean much. But she's speaking with hurt and anger and she wishes she meant them, she wishes she really did hate him, but he stares at her and she thinks she stopped breathing for a moment.

"Sam—" he tries, but she's cornering him and thrusting him away with all of his force, making him collide with the lockers. She doesn't think she's ever been angrier, but her eyes darken with fury and her lower lip trembles, and then she sees faded images in black and white, sneaking in concerts, libraries and snow-cones and then she feels her stomach churn sickeningly.

"I'm done," she declares, and then she grabs her schoolbag and turns her back on him. She feels his eyes burning into her skin, she hears Carly calling after her, but she doesn't care, all she wants to do is get away from it all.

—

She knows that she's not the type of girl that would sit on swings.

Sam's fully aware of the fact that she normally wouldn't like getting her hair windswept and getting blood flushing up her cheeks as she breathes through the thick, cold air, but she does so anyway, despite the fact that someone might randomly pop up and recognize her swinging on a playground.

She spots the playground at the corner of her eyes and sits on one of the swings, scuffing her sneakers into the ground and breathing in. Sam swings back and forth, and the breeze hits her automatically. She gulps and swallows the fear, because she's always been (secretly) afraid of heights, her heart was racing like they were on overdrive and her eyes were stinging, and they still do a little, but she figures it's better this way.

"Hey." She hears Freddie say from the back, and she's so startled she almost falls over and lands on the floor, but thanks God she doesn't. Sam turns around, her windswept hair twisting in knots, as she blinks her eyes and listens to the sound of her pounding heart.

"Hey," she replies, and then she pauses, reconsiders, and allows her facade to come into motion. "What do you want?" She goes from inviting to harsh, and he cringes at her harsh words and menacing tone, but then a shadow of understanding sweeps his face. He opens his mouth, but she takes a threatening step back, warning him that she could just turn on her heel and run away,

(like she always does).

She cringes when he doesn't say a word, because she was expecting more of a fight, and is kind of deferred that she didn't get one. However, she remembers the messy and public fight she suffered and her stomach sickeningly churns, and then she realizes it's better that she doesn't lash out at him for once. Rain falls, little drizzles, not full on downpours like usual, but she figures it's still the same.

"I missed you," he says, and then she blinks. Normally, she would've called him out on being so cliché, but there's really nothing normal about this situation. She went through a brief, relatively happy, relationship and it fizzled and exploded in after a mere month.

She doesn't know she can handle going through all the drama again, because she's still stubborn and selfish and reckless, and he's still the opposite of that. She hates not knowing things; it aggravates her and makes her want to be sure of where she's going, she doesn't like feeling unsure and uneasy, but then again she's Sam Puckett, fearless and reckless.

He looks at her, eyes empty, and she thinks she's stopped breathing. So then he looks at her, and she stares right back, and she thinks time stops for a very short, very brief moment just for them. And then he's pressing his forehead against hers, but she's leaning up to kiss him, quickly and absolutely, and until she doesn't think she can breathe anymore, she pulls away.

"Race you to the other side of the park?" Sam challenges, proposes, a smirk on her lips. Freddie almost looks surprised, but then he smirks and she surprisingly doesn't feel the need to punch him in the gut or put him in a headlock.

"You're on," he agrees, and she's already running down the path and letting her unkempt locks fall against her face.

—

She could definitely live without all of the love and hate, but then he kisses her, beneath the moonlight, and she thinks that it's kind of worth it.

—