Hola! So, I usually stick to Psych fanfic, posting my stuff on Psychfic – but alas the couple in that show has started to depress me. Thus, I decided to start with this Seddie one-shot story.

Hope you enjoy!

Freddie walked into school, his mind focused on retrieving the biology book he needed from his locker. He shook his head. Of course would he forget it when he needed to study for the next day. The quiet is almost deafening now, with all of the hustle of classes over with for the day. He approached his destination and started to enter his combination before all at once that silence is broken by an extremely loud and agitated groan coming from a classroom down the hall.

What the hell?

His head swerves behind him before he manages to turn back around to grab his book and shut his locker door closed. As he slowly made his way towards the classroom there's another frustrated huff and he swears he's heard that particular huff before.

He's gotten quite used to it over the years.

But that goes against all semblance of reason, because there is no way Sam Puckett would be in school any longer than strictly necessary.

There's one more eerily familiar moan while he neared the room until it's followed up by, "If you were meant to be read, you'd have pictures of ham on the cover!!" The tone of voice is equally frustrated and just as familiar.

He laughed quietly, leaning against the door frame, and smiled at the sight of the blonde.

Yeah, that was Sam, alright.

"You know, " he started informatively, moving towards the desk where she was sitting, "they say you've truly lost it when you start yelling at intimate objects."

She jolted her head up from the offending so-called book and looked up at the brunette boy with a scowl. This was so not what she needed right now. What was the dorkwad doing here anyway? She gave him the best growl she could –considering how exhausted she felt. "Don't make me pelt this at your head, Fredward."

Apparently he was hard of hearing today because the moron kept walking towards her. He continued grinning, and without a doubt the urge to throw the texbook at him was getting harding to resist. Pulling up a chair next to her, he turned it around backwards before straddling it to sit down. "My eyes must be playing tricks on me," he declared, rather too dramatically for her liking. "You're actually studying for midterms?"

"I will hurt you, Benson."

He raised his hands up in mock defeat. "Sorry, sorry!" He caught a glimpse of the crumpled pieces of notebook paper that were sprawled out under her desk and returned his attention to her. "It's just that 'Sam' and 'studying' aren't exactly two words I would equate."

That's not exactly something she could argue with.

"Yeah well," she raised her hand in the air dismissively, refusing to look the nub in the eyes. "I guess it's better late than never."

She could feel his eyes on her and that smug knowing smile of his growing across his face. How dare he use that smile against her! She taught him that smile.

"And what may I ask are you doing here?" she pressed on, eager to make that smirk of his disappear as fast as she could.

He held up his bio book and waved it in the air. "Left it in my locker," he explained simply. "And don't change the subject, Puckett."

"How about you don't start with me, Benson?"

For the first time since he'd walked in to find her sitting there he looked at her. Really looked at her. Her blue eyes, ones that normally sparkled at any sign of an impending sparing match, seemed so tired now. He continued to study her, noticing the lose blonde curls of hers that fell in disarray around her shoulders. She seemed so worn out.

She must have been; any other time she would have already followed up on her threat to pelt a blunt object at him.

"This year's killer, huh?" he offered, quietly. "We're all stressed out this week," Which is probably why he hadn't put two and two together about the way she had been acting recently. He had been meaning to ask her about it, but out of fear of starting yet another fight with her and with the weight of his own exams creeping up on him, he had just let it slide.

He heard her mumble, "No kidding." before she buried her head down on her folded arms. He scooted forward on his chair wearing an empathetic smile.

"Sam, you'll be fine," he promised, and much to even his own surprised he really believed that. He knew that she was a lot smarter than she let on. Now within closer proximity to her, he took the opportunity to place his hands tentatively on her shoulders. He should have been fearing for his life at the moment but for whatever reason he didn't think she would protest too much given her current state.

"What on Earth are you doing?" she grumbled into her arms; her voice muffled by her sleeves and sounding more confused and out of it than angry. He smiled; she sounded cute.

"I, uh," he stopped and shrugged, "I'm just trying to help you relax." When she made no move to lift her head up to stop him, he kept up what he was doing, squeezing gently at the sides of her neck and then back to her shoulders.

Sam knew she should make him stop. Yell something about nerds like him not being allowed to touch her. But right now she didn't want to. Blame it on all the studying; it was definitely messing with her head. "Well it's not working," she chocked out. He laughed soundlessly, obviously not believing her.

Damn him.

Though she clearly didn't even believe herself. "How's this?" he asked, his voice low as he continued to work her shoulders – more firmly now – and it was all she could do from letting out a whimper. She bit her lip, refusing to give the dork the satisfaction and as she felt the tension in her muscles start disintegrate it dawned on her just how well he always seemed to know exactly what she needed.

His sympathy grew as she realized just how worn out she actually was if she was letting him do this without putting up a fight. He felt her shift, somewhat reluctantly, and his is right arm fell to his side while the other slide down her back as she slowly sat upright in her chair. He cleared his throat awkwardly, and she avoided his gaze for a second before he made out the small smile she was trying to bite back. He leaned forward against his chair and beamed back. "Better?"

She rolled her eyes at him half heartedly."Better," she clarified, motioning to the papers and textbook in front of her, "would be not having to deal with this crap at all." He just nodded as she let out an exasperated sigh. "I seriously don't see the point in all this." Picking up her pen to drum it on her desk, she then angled to face him with her widening eyes. "Couldn't I just run away to the circus or something?"

He couldn't help it, he laughed. "Sam, I think you're a bit old for the circus, don't you?"

"Oh, don't be so unimaginative, Fredward," she retorted and this time it was his turn to roll his eyes. "Carly and I could be traipse artists. It would be great," she continued, stifling a yawn.

He laughed again and then shook his head. "Hate to add yet another damper to your plan, Sammy– but you're also not that flexible."

It was was a new development with them; him calling her Sammy. He'd started for the sole purpose of bugging the hell out of whenever she'd throw a new and improved way of butchering his own name his way.

Though lately, the girl who was currently contemplating the possibility of running off to the land of cotton candy and clowns riding unicycles, didn't seem to mind all that much.

"Hey! I can be plenty flexible when I wanna be, Benson," she informed him matter- of-factly and he rose an eye brow at her in return. "Don't go getting any ideas, over there," she added quickly, raising a finger at him.

"Wouldn't dream of it." He smiled, noticing that her cheeks had turned a slightly brighter shade of pink.

"Not flexible my ass," she muttered. "And to think, I was going to let you come with us."

"Is that so?" he asked, tilting his head at her.

"Of course. Every circus needs a bearded lady, right?"she asked, in a bright mock-sweet tone.

How did she do that?

He scoffed. "I am no lady, Sam. And I have no facial hair whatsoever." That latter part of his statement didn't do much to help his cause, he realized, cringing.

Expecting her to immediately take the bait, he was surprised when she just started to laugh and then raised her hand to his cheek. He found himself holding his breath as she ran her fingers down his clean shaven face. "No you don't," she mused and then giggled again.

His eyes met hers and for some reason that he had a hard time discerning at the moment, his heart started racing. "And you don't need the circus," he finally managed softly.

Sam's voice clenched in her throat. The comment was made lightly, but the warm inflection in his voice coupled with the look of reassurance he was giving her with those huge brown eyes of his – well, it did stupid things to her heart and stomach.

"Good to know," she answered, matching his hushed tone.

After a charged moment she looked away – she had to – and her eyes settle on his biology book. She inhaled for a second and recognized that he was probably just as stressed, if not more than she was given the honors classes the brilliant nerd had decided to take. She turned her head back to him slowly and he randomly tugs at one of her blonde curls. She bite her lip. "So, bio exam tomorrow?"

He glanced at the book and then sighed deeply with a nod. "Yup."

She smiled, and nodded curtly back at him. "Turn around," she ordered.

He looked at her blankly and then shook his head in confusion. "What?"

Oh, the nub.

"Turn. Around," she repeated more firmly.

He looked at her quizzically and then did as he's told. (That's also something he's become used to in the span of knowing her.) A second later and he felt her hands land on his shoulders, and he instinctively jerked at the contact. "Sam, what are you doing?"

There was a pause and he assumed it's because she's rolling her eyes. He could almost hear her smirk. "Just shut up and let me return the favor, okay, Benson?"

Her fingers started to press harder – yet the feel is surprisingly gentle considering the girl. "Okay, then," he breathed.

And all of a sudden he's not at all sorry that he forgot his book.