"Well, I can see why I have to give you advice about boys." Carly said. Sam gave her a stern look and she realised the error. "Sorry, I used to have to give you advice about boys. Give me a break it's only been a week." A thought struck her. "Or was that the reason?"

"Reason for what?" Sam asked.

"You know, you never worked out with boys because..." Carly trailed off. Sam showed no mercy.

"Because what?" She said, knowing fully well what she meant.

"Because of the whole, um, girl thing." Carly really wasn't sure, she hadn't known any openly gay people before so she'd been treading on eggshells around Sam for the last week. Sam was volatile to say the least, and Carly didn't know what she was allowed to say? If she got it wrong Sam might well have punched her in the throat and left her with a voice like a seventy two year old chain smoker, permanently. What she really needed was some kind of pamphlet explaining the whole thing.

"You're allowed to call me gay." Sam said, probably utilising the near telepathic bond that heterosexual life partners develop over time, regardless of how she invalidated their entry to that club now. Now they were "heterosexual life partners (yes, she's gay, but I'm not so the heterosexual bit is just to clarify that we're life partners but not in a gay way, but she sort of is but not towards me)". It lacked a little something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"You're not allowed to call me homo, dyke or rug-muncher like my mom's ex-boyfriend or she'll uppercut you through the kitchen window from the hallway." She continued.

"What?" Carly exclaimed. She only later realised she no longer needed to go to the clinic and check if they had any "So your best friend is gay" leaflets. She was under the impression that Sam's mom's ex had been thrown through that window, and her mind scrambled to figure out a way in which a punch could deliver a two hundred and fifty pound man that distance and with enough force to break a window. The brain failed, so she resorted to asking Sam.

"She never mentioned this but mom was apparently a cage fighter in the eighties." Sam explained. "But back to where we were, just do it."

"No, Sam. That'll never work."

"Yes it will Carls. Trust me, you just walk up to him and say" she began, and then she stood up from the couch and started pointing emphatically on each beat "I. Want. To. Bang. You." Carly was staring behind her with a look of combined horror and glee on her face. No one in the room knew it but that is a real emotion known as "glorror" [citation needed]. She turned around to see Spencer, just recently arrived with Smoothies in had. She sensed that she was blushing like someone who'd just made a complete arse of themselves. She struggled to find words, even the easy ones like "no" abandoned her like they were her father and it was Christmas Eve 1999.

"If you're staying the night you have to sleep on the couch," Spencer said.

--

Freddie would've liked to say that there was an explosion of celebration when he walked into Carly's apartment. It was, after all his birthday. Although Spencer and Carly did their best, Sam dragged their efforts down a fair distance. She seemed fairly morose, as she always did when other people celebrated things, but it was a comical morose because she was wearing a child's party hat and gave a single blow on a party blower. She quickly removed both of the items before announcing that she had to leave as her mother had gone to the mall in her bikini and was jumping out at people from behind things. She whispered something in Carly's ear before shoving past him and out the door.

And then, Freddie would've loved to say the party really started. It didn't. The celebrations continued well into the next minute before he and Carly realised it was just the two of them, as Spencer was off doing whatever it was that he normally did. Things became awkward quickly. Freddie contemplated asking her out, for old time's sake (and the off-chance that she might accept). Carly contemplated taking Sam's advice and saying "I want to bang you". She didn't because she thought it was just a silly idea. He didn't ask her out because he didn't want to mess with narrative causality.

"Presents!" She broke the silence. He looked around and failed a spot check in his search for anything resembling a present. Carly soon produced a small rectangle of plastic from her pocket and handed it to him. He looked at it. It looked very much like his Driver's licence might when he finally took his driving test, except the date of birth was wrong. "It's from both of us." she said, referring to herself and Sam. "I paid for it, Sam knew the guy. It's so we can go clubbing later and celebrate properly." More words were exchanged until they went silent again and wallowed in lazily written sexual tension.

--

Sam returned in the evening, decked out in her gaudy gold coloured clubbing clothes. The tension was tangible. Literally. She had trouble opening the door there was so much of it. Inside, Carly and Freddie sat on the couch watching television amongst the confetti and single balloon that had constituted the earlier celebration, she was wearing a red dress and heels, he a shirt and jeans, and neither aware that they both wanted to do what Elmer and his lady friend were doing on "Elephant Love".

Sam thought about making a big entrance to distract them, perhaps some sort of explosion. She decided against it, mainly for practical reasons. Instead she distracted them by walking in and saying "Hello".

They greeted her back.

"We ready to go then?" Carly asked, standing up.

"Yeah. But first we need to go meet Wendy, I've got a date."

--

It was three in the morning and the DJ was nearing the end of his set. Freddie had a very drunk Carly almost slipping from her seat next to him. Wendy was on the dance floor, with an even more drunk Sam clinging to her, drooling on her shoulder and shambling around like an unusually fast zombie in high heels. Inevitably, she slipped, almost taking Wendy over with her. At that point Wendy decided they could cut the night short by a few songs before Sam ended up injured or asleep. She dragged the hammered Sam over towards Freddie. After completing that nigh impossible mission, she leaned close to Freddie to be heard over the music.

"I'd better get her home," She shouted. Freddie just about made it out. Carly did too and jumped to complain about the night still being young, but fell before she opened her mouth.

"I'd better take her home too," He called to Wendy. She nodded back and started to haul Sam, now close to sleeping on Wendy's shoulder, towards the exit. Freddie helped Carly up from the floor and was ready to follow until the music changed to a slowish song. This served to excite Carly.

"Hey, we should dance," She slurred excitedly.

"Come on, Carly." He said. "We can do it some other time, I think you've had enough fun tonight."

"Aw, come on." She said. "It'll be like that time at the Groovy Smoothie." Freddie considered things for a moment. That had been a pretty good time and by dancing with her for a bit he might be able to placate her. Plus, it being a slow song meant she had less chance of falling.

"All, right." He said. "But just this song, okay?" She nodded and dragged him to the dance floor, while staggering wildly about the place. Then they danced like they hand before, arms around each other, her head in his chest. Except this time she belched into it. Twice.

Then she looked up at him and said "I wanna bang you."

--A/N--

Yet another 5_4_3_2 challenge fic (where it is titled Don't Stop Me Now). Anyway, blame writer's block, I've not been in the mood for writing for a while. I think that shows with the second half of this. Especially because the second half of it should in fact be the last three quarters. It's very rushed. And whenever I play with the 4th wall it's generally because I didn't want to work on an actual joke. Still some people like it, so eh. It might be rewritten some day because I've had an idea for a morning after scene too, don't know if I'll be able to get it onto paper though.

The world needs more Sam/Wendy, so you dear reader should get onto that sharpish.