Part 5
St. Patrick's Day

The fifth time it happened, he was prepared.

It was St. Patrick's Day, better known as the nation's excuse to get completely hammered and wear green. Normally, Spencer would be spending this holiday just like he had every year: at Socko's, drinking green beer and debating on whether or not they should go out to a bar. Instead, when Carly proposed her idea to him of having a special webcast of iCarly in the loft during their St. Patrick's Day party with special St. Patrick's Day-themed skits, he found it a good enough reason to stay and supervise. He bought himself a case of beer and decided to drink solo just to make the teenagers' party a little more enjoyable.

Sam and Freddie showed up, as did a good majority of the trio's senior class. Everyone was dressed in green and sporting funny St. Patrick's hats, necklaces, and sunglasses. They served punch and snacks and the three friends let quite a few of their classmates guest star in the skits on their webcast. Spencer kept to himself, watching everyone have fun. They seemed to be really enjoying the punch so he decided to try it, finding it surprisingly delicious. But then again, everything Carly made was delicious so he didn't really question it.

He watched Sam from the corner of his eye for most of the night, but she didn't act any differently. He'd woken up after Valentine's Day and spent days trying to convince himself it really was just a dream, but he knew all too well what was reality now. The bite mark on his hand was very much real. He finally gave up trying to deny it and admitted to himself that she'd been taking advantage of him every opportunity she had. He was worried, though. Did she think she could do the same thing tonight? She probably assumed he was bound to get drunk again.

Maybe I should just start locking my bedroom door, he thought. But then he remembered her knack for lock-picking and knew it would be futile.

After the webcast was over and about half the kids had gone home, Spencer was getting his seventh glass of punch, shrugging off the swimming in his head towards having not eaten yet that day and having had a couple of beers earlier. He wondered if Sam had noticed how much he'd had to drink.

He sipped his glass of punch and watched as the remainder of the teenagers said their goodbyes to Carly, Sam, and Freddie and left for home. He then said goodbye to Freddie, who had to go home because of his mother, and grabbed one last glass of punch before shutting himself away in his bedroom, stripping down to his boxers and shutting off the light.

However, he decided not to lie down and go to sleep. Instead, he sat on the edge of his bed, his curtains parted so as to let in just enough of the city light and moonlight to cast a dim glow around the room, and sipped his glass of punch, finding the swimming in his head getting worse.

She would come. He knew she would. All he had to do was wait.

The living room went quiet and the light under his door disappeared. He heard footsteps on the stairs, indicating that the girls had gone up to Carly's room for the night. He let out a sigh of relief and set the empty glass down on his nightstand. He laid back and took a few deep breaths before a thought occurred to him.

He sat up and grabbed the empty glass, sticking it up to his nose and inhaling deeply.

I should've known.

The click of his bedroom door shutting and locking grabbed his attention and he looked towards the sound. Sure enough, there was Sam, standing in front of the door with a half glass of punch in her hand and a mischievous smirk on her face.

"What're you doing?" he asked quietly, standing up and setting his empty glass back down on the nightstand.

She approached him quickly and silently, placing both small hands on his chest and pushing him back onto the bed. He tried to resist but she caught him by surprise and his balance was off, so he fell backwards onto the bed but managed to stay sitting up. He noticed she'd downed the last of her punch and tossed the empty cup to the floor before he'd even realized she was approaching him. She put her legs on either side of his and sat in front of him, straddling him before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in to meet her lips.

He couldn't help but give in to the soft kisses for just a moment before composing himself and pulling his head away. He grabbed both of her arms firmly and pushed her off, making her stand up and move back so that he could stand in front of her. He looked down and tried to focus on her face through those blonde curls but was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on anything at the moment. The knowing look on her face remained.

"You spiked the punch," he said. It wasn't a question rather than a statement – he already knew she did it, but he wanted her to know that he wasn't completely oblivious.

"And you drank it anyway," she whispered, shrugging his hands off of her arms and reaching up for his face.

He grabbed her hands and put them back at her sides. "No, that – that was wrong, Sam. This is wrong. Whadd'you think you've been doing?"

Her look of confidence finally faltered and she gazed at him with slight confusion. "What have you been doing? You never complained until now. Did I not put enough vodka in the punch bowl?"

He shook his head. "No, not again, Sam. You know, I've been trying to tell myself for months now that they were all dreams, that it didn't really happen, but I figured out what you've been doing… taking advantage of me like that."

Sam laughed and stepped back, giving him an incredulous look. "Taking advantage? What are you, a girl? All I did was seize a few opportunities. You never complained and you never resisted."

"Well, now I am," he blurted out, lowering his voice. "You're seventeen, Sam… what do you think you're going to accomplish from this?"

She cocked an eyebrow. "Exactly. I'll be eighteen next month. And when have I ever tried to accomplish anything?" She let out a slow breath and pursed her lips, adding quietly, "It's not like you would've done anything like that with me under any other circumstance… You can't try and tell me you didn't know I've had a crush on you forever – like I didn't drop enough hints over the last five years."

He didn't know what to say. He stared down at her in silence, still trying to steady his eyesight. This was a lot to take in at once. Yes, he'd noticed the hints, but just as soon as they'd been dropped, he'd shrugged them off as misinterpretation or just teenage hormones. He never thought she would take a "crush" so seriously and to this extent. She certainly had a knack for getting her way.

Her mouth grew back into a mischievous smirk and her stance turned unguarded. She stepped closer to him and wrapped a hand around his forearm, looking up at him with devilish blue eyes.

"Do you need to drink some more punch to convince yourself this is okay? That it's not your fault and that you're the victim?" she asked quietly. "Or can we just close the curtains and pretend you're having a really lucid dream…?"

He shivered at her words and felt her fingernails dig into the tender skin of his forearm. He tried to force his brain to think straight, to stick his head above the sea of vodka he was sinking into. But he couldn't think himself sober and as much as he hated to admit it, she had an unwelcoming effect on him.

I knew I should've eaten some of those snacks earlier…

"Does it need to be darker so you can pretend I'm someone else and make yourself feel better?" she whispered mockingly, leaning in and trailing soft kisses from the bottom of his neck up to his earlobe. His muscles tensed and she noticed, tightening her grip on his forearm. The crescent moon shapes left from her fingernails would linger on his skin for days.

She finally released him only to push him back onto the bed once more. He sighed and didn't bother attempting to stand up. The room went pitch black and he realized she'd swiftly moved to the windows and closed the curtains the rest of the way to shut out the city. He tried to readjust his eyesight but before he could, two small hands pressed lightly on his chest so he fell back to a laying position. He then felt a light weight hovering over him as she straddled him and leaned down, her headful of blonde curls tickling his bare torso and neck as she kissed from his chest up to his neck and face.

Something in him gave up, in a way, and he let the inevitable happen as the alcohol took over in the dark bedroom. His head spun as she stripped off his boxers and he soon found himself with the warmth of a petite, bare body pressed against him, silently begging him for every ounce of dignity he had left. And he obliged.

It was another blur – a mess of bedsheets and blueberry scented skin, the softest lips he had to admit he'd ever felt gracing his skin, and the familiar tickling of curly hair all over his body. He took in the sensation of her curves, running his hands over every crevice her body was hiding and found himself enjoying it a lot more than he probably should have.

The only time he caught a glimpse of her face in the blackness was when she lay down close enough to his digital alarm clock that the glow of the screen shone across to reveal not a look of triumph, but a look of pure gratification and content. It never occurred to him that this may have been more than simply getting what she wanted from him, more than the twisted game he thought she'd been playing.

He had his arms wrapped around her and under her back, his face buried in the nape of her neck, as his last moments of indulgence surged through him. His breathing was heavy and he felt her fingers reach up and stroke the base of his hairline above his neck, more of those soft kisses being left just in front of his right ear. He untangled himself from her small body and rolled over, heaving a sigh of defeat. He could feel the room starting to spin outside of his closed eyelids as the shame sunk deep into his pores.

The bed shifted as she got up and he heard her rummaging around to collect her clothes. He leaned up just in time to see her opening the bedroom door only wide enough to slip out.

"Is this…"

She stopped when she heard his voice and turned to him, waiting for him to finish.

"…This can't happen anymore. You know I won't let it."

She smirked and a small chuckle left her throat. "Just like you didn't let it happen tonight?"

"I'm serious. Please… don't do this anymore."

She continued smirking and whispered, "No promises."

And then she was gone.

the end.

A/N: Please let me know why you liked or disliked the story and what you thought of the ending. Any feedback is appreciated and thank you for taking the time to read :) No idea on when my next story will be out but I'm working on the ending of You Were There as well as an epilogue/prologue so keep an eye out for that if you haven't already added it to your alerts.