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This is the story of how Sam and Freddie sleep together six times and then maybe a couple more times. Sam doesn’t think it’s very grand or romantic, except perhaps a little bit towards the end, but it did happen and Sam is secretly sort of glad. Don't tell Freddie.
In junior year, Sam slept with Nick Brown. He was kind of a jerk - Carly and Freddie both hated him - and he broke her heart a little bit even if she'll never say it out loud. When they met he'd only been at their school for a few weeks and already had a months worth of detention. They started talking outside Principal Franklin’s office one day, Nick was going in for a guidance session and Sam had just finished her weekly meeting (Teddy had asked her to help rearrange his office – she’s stronger than the janitor). She found out that Nick had just spent 2 weeks in the same juvy she'd been to the year before. They had so much in common.
She slept with him after a few weeks. Despite what Carly said, she didn’t think sex was that big of a deal and it didn’t seem like some huge step to take. Nick had done it before and it was... ok. It didn’t rock her world but it wasn’t horrible. They slept together a few times and then, after a few weeks, Nick dumped her for some senior. Carly let her cry and didn't say ‘I told you so’; Spencer bought her a huge plate of fried chicken and kept Freddie away while there were still tears on her face. She figured that Carly had told Freddie what happened but Freddie never mentioned it to her, thank God.
Then, a couple of weeks after they broke up, Nick came into school with a black eye. Sam remembered being amused, wishing that she'd at least seen it happen so that she could laugh and maybe punch him in the other eye. She held onto that feeling (the violent feeling - she practically felt like herself again) until she noticed Freddie absently rubbing his hand in Biology. His knuckles were red. Sam sat there, in the seat next to him, and tried to ignore the way her stomach twisted. She didn't move until the bell rang and then she didn't speak to Freddie for two weeks. He alternated between looking confused, hurt and angry and she can barely remember now why she was so mad at him.
Freddie, she thinks, probably slept with Maria over the summer. He met her at some weird geek convention that both Carly and Sam had refused to go to. Freddie went on his own and somehow, somehow, came home with a girlfriend. Sam has no idea how that happened. They dated until October - it's the longest relationship Freddie's ever been in. Unless you count his Mom. Which Sam does.
She and Carly still have no idea why they broke up. Freddie has never offered any explanation other than 'it wasn't working.' Sam thinks it’s a good riddance - she hated Maria. She was annoying and giggly and weak and so obviously a subpar version of Carly that just being in the same building as Maria made Sam’s fists clench. Maria laughed at all of Freddie's stupid computer jokes, even the dumb ones about, like, monitors or whatever the hell he’d been geeking out about that week. Sometimes, she called him baby. It made Sam want to punch walls. She hadn't exactly been subtle in her dislike either but Maria had always just sat there and looked sad and she never fought back, not once. Sam was glad when they broke up, viciously so, and she'd told Freddie that, ignoring Carly’s ‘please be sensitive now’ looks. Sam was being sensitive, in her own way. She thought it’d cheer him up if she mocked Maria mercilessly and, after a couple of weeks, it seemed to work. Freddie grinned and rolled his eyes when Sam imitated her grating giggle and he didn’t tell her to shut up when she listed Maria’s fault in order of annoyingness. Score one, team Sam.
That doesn’t really have anything to do with the story of how Sam and Freddie hooked up more than six times but, well, back-story is important sometimes. This is it how it happened.
**
The first time Sam sleeps with Freddie is on Thanksgiving. She blames the huge servings of turkey and the alcohol they stole from Spencer for her lowered standards.
Carly and Spencer have to go to their Grandfather’s in Yakima for Thanksgiving in senior year. Sam’s fine with this until her Mom decides that cooking isn’t really for her. It’s Sam’s worst nightmare – one of the only days where it’s actually okay for people to stuff their faces with delicious meat and gravy and Sam can’t join in. The situation needs to be rectified. There is only one possible set of circumstances that makes it okay to go begging to Freddie Benson and that is when she can’t eat meat on Thanksgiving. She swallows her pride and her dignity and heads over to the Benson’s the day beforehand. She takes a deep breath as she knocks on the door. Eurgh, she’s about to grovel to Fredward and his Mom. She feels dirty.
The door opens and Mrs Benson looks at her for a second. Then she slams the door in Sam’s face which, to be honest, is a better reaction than Sam was expecting. She waits outside and after a few minutes Freddie comes to the door.
“Sorry, she only just mentioned it,” he says. Sam nods in understanding.
“She’s crazy, it’s cool. So, hey. Speaking of crazy parents...”
“Your Mom decided Thanksgiving wasn’t for her?” It’s sad how well her friends understand her Mom.
“Yeah,” Sam drawls. “She decided Thanksgiving was for screwing her new dude not for feeding me food.”
Freddie looks amused.
“You worked on that all the way over, huh?”
“Does it make you feel sorry enough for me that you’ll convince your Mom that I should come over and eat your food tomorrow?”
Freddie rolls his eyes and sighs. He looks back into the apartment.
“Give me a few minutes. She doesn’t... she doesn’t really like you, Sam,” he says.
“Eh, I’m not her biggest fan either but I can put aside my issues for turkey and gravy.”
He rolls his eyes (again - she’s gonna need to train that out of him soon) and heads inside. Sam hears his voice and then his Mom’s voice and, man, that woman’s voice makes her want to stab things. She’ll need to curb that for the turkey.
After a few minutes, Freddie comes back to the door.
“My Mom would love to have you over for dinner tomorrow,” he says.
“That doesn’t seem likely.”
“I paraphrased,” Freddie says quickly. “Be here at two. Don’t be late, ok? If you are, my Mom will ban you from eating meat. Don’t think she won’t, Sam.”
“I’ll be here,” she promises. “Uh, thanks.”
He smiles at her. She turns to leave and then remembers something.
“I want yams,” she says.
“You’ll get what you’re given and you’ll like it.”
She can handle that.
**
She arrives at 1.55pm. It’s the first time in years she’s actually been punctual for something. You don’t want to mess around when there’s a turkey on the table. Freddie answers the door in a suit. He’s wearing a suit. Sam is trying really hard not to laugh at the person who’s providing her with dinner.
“Don’t say a word,” he says, glaring at her.
“I... don’t think I can,” she gets out between snorts of laughter. Freddie growls and glares harder.
“My Mom makes me wear a suit on Thanksgiving. It’s a thing, ok?”
“Whatever, whatever.” She reaches up to pinch his cheek and grins at him.
“I’ll make fun of you for it tomorrow. Today is for food. You’re in luck, Fredminster.”
She pushes past him into the apartment. It smells so good when she walks in that she just stops and breathes it in. She makes some garbled noise expressing her approval and opens her eyes to find Freddie watching her in amusement.
“Whatever. Lead me to the food,” she commands.
He does, although he seems slightly reluctant, but before they go into the kitchen Freddie pulls her aside.
“Look, I know you don’t like her but she put a lot of effort into this meal and you have to be polite. You have to say thank you, ok?” He looks pretty serious about this. Sam looks at him for a second but... there’s food waiting so she just nods and agrees.
“Samantha!” Mrs Benson says when she sees Sam. Sam is about to correct her, and not politely, but a look from Freddie stops her. Sam grits her teeth and waves hello.
“Hello, Mrs Benson,” she says. She thinks she sounds pretty convincing. “This smells amazing. I can’t wait.” That was more convincing.
“Well, we can’t have you all alone on Thanksgiving. Your mother, honestly...” she starts muttering under her breath and Sam looks at Freddie, confused. He beckons her out into the living room.
“I wouldn’t have been alone! What the chizz, Fredward?”
“It was the only thing I could think of that would actually make her feel sorry for you!” Freddie admits. “Don’t complain, alright. You’re getting your Thanksgiving dinner.”
“This dinner better be worth it. There’d better be so much gravy.” The problem, Sam finds, with threatening Freddie these days is that he’s not really scared anymore. She needs to step up the violence.
**
Sam may not like Mrs Benson but, damn, that woman can cook. That was possibly the best meal Sam has ever eaten. She’s so full that she may not be able to move, ever. She and Freddie are sitting on the couch watching the parade and Freddie’s Mom is washing the dishes (Freddie had forced Sam to help clear the table but Mrs Benson insisted on washing the dishes, thank God. Sam has never washed a dish in her life and she doesn’t plan on starting today) and she feels pretty good. Then the phone rings and she feels Freddie tense up next to her.
The ringing goes on for what seems like a long time before Sam hears Mrs Benson pick up and say hello. Freddie hasn’t moved an inch.
“What is it?” she asks. She doesn’t care, not really, but she was really relaxed and Freddie’s weird tension is ruining her gravy buzz.
Freddie’s silent for a little while, silent and still, and Sam thinks he’s trying to listen to his Mom’s conversation although they can’t really hear it over the TV. He takes a breath as if he’s about to speak but then his Mom calls his name and he sighs. He looks mad, like he does whenever she says something really horrible to Gibby.
“I’ll be right back,” he says as he gets up. Sam stares after him as he walks in to the kitchen. She hears him say hello and then she can only hear the timbre of his voice as he talks. She has the distinct feeling she’s missed something. She grabs her phone and quickly texts Carly.
Fredward being weird about some phonecall. Whats this chizz??
Carly texts back pretty much straight away which isn’t that shocking – Yakima is boring – but she obviously has no idea either.
No clue. Why are you with Freddie? Are you being nice? I hate Yakima :(
Sam decides to leave those questions alone. Freddie is talking to his Mom now so he must be done on the phone. She’ll make him tell her. When he comes back in he still looks angry, although slightly less tense. He takes one look at her and he seems to know that she’s going to ask.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Sam. Leave it,” he tells her. Sam narrows her eyes and considers hitting him for telling her what to do but she decides to let it go. This time. He did feed her, after all. She nods slowly and he looks relieved.
They sit there for another couple of hours, watching shitty TV and arguing vaguely about some iCarly related things. Mrs Benson comes in to say goodnight (she asks if Sam would like a ride home but Sam would rather eat her own toes than be stuck in a car with Marissa Benson again so she turns that down) and then it’s just the two of them. Freddie sighs, massively, and then turns to her.
“Wanna go next door and steal some of Spencer’s beer?” he asks. She looks at him in astonishment.
“Who are you and what did you do with the dork that normally lives here?” Seriously, Sam can’t ever remember Freddie asking for a drink. He takes them if Sam forces him but he’s too much of a Momma’s boy to drink all on his own.
“Ha ha,” he says sarcastically. “Do you?”
“Sure,” she replies. When is Sam ever going to turn down stolen beer?
She follows him to the kitchen, so he can grab the spare key, and then out of the apartment. He shuts the door quietly and they head into Carly’s place. Sam makes herself at home on the couch and tries to find something mindless and entertaining to watch whilst Freddie rummages through the fridge for beers. Spencer does this dumb thing where he always puts his beer at the back of the fridge like that’ll make it invisible to Carly. Except then he hands them out to all of them on birthdays and at Christmas. Last Christmas, Socko pointed out that it was stupid and Spencer got all upset and said that he was only trying to be a cool but also responsible older brother. Freddie hands her a beer and sits next to her. They watch TV in silence for a little while and then Freddie just starts talking quietly.
“It was my Dad. On the phone,” he says. “He calls every Thanksgiving. Not on my birthday or on Christmas. Just Thanksgiving. It makes my Mom all weird.”
Sam doesn’t really know what to do. She wishes Carly were here. Carly knows what to say in situations like this. Sam is so clueless right now.
“Fuck. I can’t believe I’m telling you this. Like you care,” he says and he laughs a little. He sounds all weird – bitter and stuff. Sam hates it.
“I... care?” she says. She realises that it wasn’t her best acting ever. Freddie laughs again, genuinely this time.
“I do! He left, right? When you were younger?” She remembers that much from the few times she’s heard him talk about his Dad. He raises his eyebrow at her.
“Yeah, when I was 9. We didn’t hear from him for a couple of years and then these phone calls started. I hate him.”
He finishes his drink and gets up to grab another. She follows him to the kitchen. She feels like she should talk about something to distract him, if only so he’ll stop whining, but she doesn’t know what. Man, she really wishes Carly were here. Or Socko. He’s good at this shit. At this point, even Spencer would be a blessing. The silence feels a little awkward now.
“I never even knew my Dad,” she says as Freddie hands her a bottle. “I’m not completely sure that my Mom knew my Dad. We’ve never known his name or anything. Melanie wants to meet him but... I don’t need another crappy parent in my life. He’s probably in jail anyway.”
“That would explain a lot,” Freddie says quietly. He’s smiling at her and she feels like she did something right. “Thanks, Sam.’”
“Whatever. Stop being lame and get the vodka,” she tells him. “Let’s do this right.”
A couple (or possibly a lot) of shots later they’re sitting in the dark watching some shitty horror movie. It’s so lame that even Freddie isn’t scared. He is a little bit drunk though. They both are, really, but Sam will never admit to being more drunk than Freddie. Freddie’s a dork and he can’t hold his alcohol except that he apparently can because he’s still pouring shots without spilling anything and Sam can’t stop giggling at the zombie’s bad makeup. Freddie looks at her and laughs, he’s laughing at her, so she hits him and then he hits her back. This is her favourite thing about Freddie (shut up, do not ever mention this to Freddie) – that he always fights back. He doesn’t treat her like she’s weaker than he is or like she’ll break. She punches him in the stomach and he doubles over, swearing.
“I win,” Sam sing-songs. Freddie turns to her and stares. Sam knows something’s coming but she’s drunk and full and lazy and she had a weirdly good time tonight so she’ll let Freddie have a free hit for once. That’s when he leans forward and kisses her. Which... she was not expecting that. At all. It’s kind of... alright though. She thinks that kissing Freddie again is probably not the best idea and then she actually realises that she’s kissing Freddie so she pulls back. She stares at him with wide eyes as she debates punching him for real or just leaving. Freddie’s blushing but he’s not moving and he’s still staring at her mouth.
“Uh, sorry?” he says, quietly. He doesn’t actually sound sorry though so Sam leans forward and kisses him again. Yeah, she has no idea why either. She’s seriously blaming the vodka. And the gravy.
So, that’s how Sam ends up sleeping with Freddie Benson on Carly’s couch. She keeps thinking that they should stop but then can’t come up with a good enough reason. The sex isn’t horrible, but it isn’t mind-blowing. They’re both drunk and it doesn’t exactly last long but Freddie actually gets her off which is more than she can say for most of the times with Nick.
Afterwards, they both lie on the couch in silence. It’s pretty awkward. Eventually, Sam pushes Freddie off of her and onto the floor so that she can get dressed. Freddie starts pulling on his pants but Sam can feel the little looks he keeps giving her. She's going to wait for him to work up the nerve to talk to her – there’s no way she’s starting this conversation, especially since she knows how it’ll go.
“Sam,” Freddie says, hesitantly. “I... ”
And that is when the front door opens. Sam thinks for one heart-stopping moment that it’s Freddie’s Mom and she sighs in relief when she hears Socko’s shocked voice saying 'oh' instead of the screaming that would alert them to Mrs Benson’s delightful presence.
Socko’s standing in the door, staring at the two of them. Sam’s still only in her bra and jeans and she would care about that if she wasn’t acutely aware of how gay Socko is (and thank you, Spencer, for not locking that door) and he keeps opening his mouth to say something and then changing his mind. Sam looks at him evenly.
“I left my... socks here,” Socko says eventually. Sam’s pretty sure that socks is code for dildo or something equally mind-bleachy. “What are you two... why are you half naked? Don’t answer that. Don’t answer it at all. I’m gonna go. I’m just gonna go.”
And he does. He takes one last, confused look at the two of them and then leaves. The silence is even more awkward now, predictably. Sam decides it’s time to get the hell out of there. She pulls her sweater on and grabs her shoes. She walks towards the door and throws a “later, dweeb” over her shoulder as she leaves.
She pretty much doesn’t even think about it until she gets home and then she’s so fucking angry that she punches the wall. She doesn’t know if she’s more pissed at Freddie for, you know, being Freddie or at herself for having sex with Freddie. She doesn’t speak to him for three weeks, even though he tries to apologise a load of times, and she only starts being normal (or whatever qualifies as normal for her and Freddie) around him when she’s sure he won’t be bringing it up again.
Socko never tries to talk about with her and she’s pretty sure he hasn’t told Spencer. Spencer would not be able to keep that a secret.
It’s good. Sam just wants to forget the whole thing happened.
**
On the day before Christmas Eve, Freddie rings her doorbell.
(That’s not a euphemism. Well, it could be. This is the second time Sam sleeps with Freddie but he also literally rings the doorbell of her house.)
Sam obviously isn’t going to get up to answer the door so Melanie sighs and goes instead. Sam’s pretty happy with this result until she hears Melanie giggle and say “Freddie!” all breathily.
Melanie is so dumb over Freddie. Ever since their fake date, like four years ago, she fawns all over him whenever she’s home. It’s disgusting. She’s always trying to tell Sam how cute and nice he is and asking her if she thinks he likes her. Like Sam cares even slightly.
Except for how, apparently, she cares right now. Normally she would let Freddie suffer through the giggling and the stroking his arm and Sam would laugh while he grimaced and pretended to smile at Melanie. Sam is always a little pleased when Freddie doesn’t flirt back – it’s nice when people don’t fall at Melanie’s feet and forget that Sam exists, Mom.
So, yeah, normally Sam would enjoy this but today... They’ve only just started talking again, her and Freddie, and he came to see her. She should rescue him.
Sam walks into the hall and sees Freddie standing on the doorstep looking confused. Melanie is talking about shoes or lace or something. Sam stands behind her and smirks at Freddie. He opens his mouth to talk to her, she guesses, but he was brought up with manners (and he doesn’t understand that they are useless) and he won’t talk over Melanie.
Eventually, Sam takes pity on him. Well, more pity than usual.
“Shut up, Melanie. What do you want, Fredicine?”
Melanie looks a little put out but she’ll get over it. If she’s not used to Sam by now then she never will be.
“Uh, I wanted to give you your Christmas present? Can I come inside? It’s muchas frío out here,” he says.
She narrows her eyes at him. “Why can’t you give me it tomorrow at Carly’s?” she asks.
“Because I need to give it to you today,” he replies. Sometimes he talks to her like she’s an idiot. She doesn’t appreciate it. She’s tempted to make him drive back home but... present.
“Fine. Come in.”
She starts walking upstairs – he’ll follow her if he knows what’s good for him. It’s just Melanie and their Mom downstairs and Freddie is terrified of Sam’s Mom. He just doesn’t understand her.
She lets him into her room and he looks around at the mess. He takes a breath and Sam can see the beginnings of The Lecture Face. She glares at him and he shrugs, clearly thinking the better of saying anything. He’s smart sometimes.
“Alright. Present?” she asks. Freddie laughs.
“Nice to see you too, Sam. Having a good day?” he teases. He’s not as funny as he thinks he is.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re in my house, you said you have a present for me, hand it over.”
He just smiles at her as he shakes his head a little. He should seriously have expected this of her. He pulls an envelope from his pocket and hands it to her. He looks a little nervous now. She watches him thoughtfully – what could be so important that he couldn’t give it to her when the rest of them exchange presents at Carly’s tomorrow? He’s so weird sometimes.
He looks away from her, pulling off his coat, as he tells her to open it. Inside there’s a piece of paper with writing on and a book filled with pieces of paper that look like raffle tickets. She looks at him, confused.
“I know reading is hard for you and everything but you need to read the piece of paper,” he says. He still looks nervous. She makes an impatient noise – reading is lame.
“Just explain it to me, loser,” she tells him. He sighs.
“Fine,” he says. “It’s... um... free meat, basically. You know that store on the corner of Pike Street? On the way to school?”
She stares at him. She can’t even dare to hope.
“The one with the amazing chicken legs?” she asks.
“Yeah,” he laughs. “That’s the one. Every one of those little tickets is a free piece of meat or food from that store. There are 200 tickets in there. I thought... well, you like meat.”
Sam can’t think of anything to say. This is weird.
“I do like meat,” she murmurs, eventually. “How did you get them to agree to this? I mean, this isn’t exactly a standard food basket.”
He laughs and rubs the back of his neck. He’s turning red.
“I went and asked. You have to mention them on the next iCarly and it cost... Anyway, look, I know it’s a little dumb but I thought you’d like it.”
He pauses and looks at her for a second. “Do you like it?”
Sam nods, slowly. She really likes it. It’s just... Freddie bought her meat for Christmas. Meat that could last her all year. She doesn’t know how to process this, how to deal with it. Also, the camera thing that she and Carly bought him seems kind of crappy now.
Freddie seems to get it though. He’s smiling at her like he knows that she’s grateful. Like he knows that she doesn’t know how to respond. She’s just realising that he’s standing kind of close.
“Bye!” Melanie shouts up the stairs. Sam starts and Freddie takes a step backwards and trips over a shoe. He lands on the floor and makes a really high pitched noise that makes Sam laugh. He’s such a girl sometimes.
“Bye,” Sam screams back, enjoying the way Freddie flinches.
“Where’s she going?” Freddie hasn’t moved from the floor yet. If he hurt himself falling over her shoe, Sam will never let him forget it.
“My Mom’s taking her to Church,” she tells him, absently. Sam feels weird looking at Freddie. Her stomach is fluttering and it’s maybe not just the thought of a years worth of free meat that’s doing it.
“Freddie, get up,” she says. He does and he moves to stand in front of her again. “Why couldn’t you give it to me tomorrow?”
“It’s... It’s kind of better than their presents. I didn’t want... I was embarrassed. Or something like...” he trails off.
He’s staring at her the way he did on Thanksgiving. Fuck. Fuck, Sam’s going to have to kiss him now. Fucking Freddie. She leans in and kisses him and it all carries on from there. Sam’s surprised, when she thinks about it later, how easy it was. It all just happens and she never thinks that they shouldn’t and she’s not nervous or embarrassed by any of it. She realises that they’re alone in the house and his hands are under her shirt and then they’re on her bed and pretty much naked. Its weird how not weird it is. It’s Freddie and he’s kissing her stomach and when she shivers, it isn’t even because she’s disgusted that he’s touching her. He laughs at her when she makes a noise that she’s pretty sure she’s never made before and she hits him for it.
The sex is actually really good this time. Freddie goes down on her, which Nick only did once and apparently not well, not compared to this. He makes her come twice like that, with his mouth and her shaking and biting her lip so she doesn’t say anything too dumb when she comes, before he moves back up her body to kiss her. It’s a little gross but Sam can’t complain at him because she feels so good. She feels like she does after she’s eaten meatballs. Maybe even better.
Freddie drops his head to her shoulder when she touches him and swears into her neck.
“Sam,” he pants. “Sam, do you have a condom somewhere?”
She stills, thinking. It should be weird that Freddie’s asking her that but all she can think about is how they need a condom so they can have sex. Her world is a confusing place sometimes. She hops out of bed, completely naked, and roots through a drawer to find a condom. When she comes up with one she turns back to the bed and finds Freddie staring at her. He looks up at her face.
“You’re pretty hot, really,” he says. “When you’re not beating people up or wearing a fake moustache.”
She rolls her eyes. “Touching,” she says as she throws the condom at him. It hits him in the face. Score.
The second time Sam has sex with Freddie Benson it’s the day before Christmas Eve and Sam has a pretty good time.
They just lie next to each other for a while when they’re done. Freddie gets rid of the condom and then lies back down and Sam doesn’t even kick him out of her bed. What is she doing with her life? They don’t say anything but it isn’t awkward. Sam thinks it just feels... nice. This is obviously her cue to ruin it.
“Clearly, I have no standards on major holidays,” she says to the ceiling.
Freddie tenses up next to her and Sam shuts her eyes. She feels Freddie get up and she can hear him getting dressed – the zip of his jeans and the buckle of his belt. Sam sits up and fumbles around for some underwear. Freddie’s watching her again. He wants to talk about this, Sam can tell, and it’s the last thing that she wants. She’s fine (kind of) with it just happening and she really likes the part where they pretend it didn’t happen afterwards. She turns away and tries to find her shirt.
“Sam,” he says, cautiously. She doesn’t turn around and he doesn’t say anything else.
“Ok, I’m gonna go,” he says. “Sam, look, we don’t have to talk about it or anything but... don’t ignore me this time, ok? Let’s just skip that part and go straight to being friends again.”
She stares at the book of coupons on the floor as he talks. It makes sense. She’s not really angry at him this time and besides, she thinks, it’s Christmas. She hums in agreement and Freddie touches her shoulder as he leaves.
**
The next day, they’re all at Carly’s for Christmas Eve. They’ve finished the show, Spencer has handed out the wine and beer and they’re exchanging presents. It’s been a good day. Spencer’s only had one minor fire and Socko managed to put it out pretty quickly. The two of them are being pretty disgustingly cute, actually. She’s been watching them for a while – they’re cuddling on the couch and Spencer keeps kissing Socko’s neck. It makes Sam want to throw up. She turns to say as much to Carly but Carly’s busy whispering with Freddie in the kitchen.
Sam stares at the two of them for a minute and wonders if they’re talking about her.
**
Freddie has been talking to Maria for 19 minutes. It’s driving Sam crazy. She can see Maria laughing and Freddie smiling and she can’t figure out if that’s Freddie’s I’m-tolerating-you-because-I-have-manners smile or if it’s his I-love-you-oh-sweet-Carly smile.
It’s stupid but... it’s Freddie’s birthday. His 18th. If this doesn’t count as an important day then she doesn’t know what does and she was maybe expecting something more than Freddie flirting with his ex-girlfriend. Sam hates this. She hates these annoying feelings she apparently has for him and she hates that he isn’t coming over here and bugging her. Freddie makes her feel pathetic. Sam Puckett is no coward and yet here she is – standing in a kitchen on her own for 19 minutes because she wants him to come to her. She could go over there and drag him away so that she can give him his present. Sam’s his friend – she has priority over his ex-girlfriend. But, see, he might be happy talking to Maria. Maybe she should start paying attention to all Carly’s lectures about being a respectable person and not interrupt his conversation.
Fuck it. When has she ever been a respectable person? She walks over and grabs his wrist.
“Come with me, Freddorky,” she says as she drags him up the stairs. That’s the Sam Puckett way – if you think he might not want to leave, force him to.
“Uh, sorry. I’ll be back in a second,” he shouts over his shoulder. He so won’t be back in a second.
Sam leads him into the spare bedroom on the second floor. The room is full of junk – mostly Spencer’s art stuff but there’s a small bed in the corner that Sam has spent at least 50% of the last 10 years sleeping in. She shuts the door behind her and then leans against it, looking up at Freddie. His arms are crossed and he looks disapproving. She’s about to get the ‘appropriate social interactions in public’ lecture.
“Sam, that was rude.”
“Whatever. I hate her,” she says. Freddie nods.
“Yeah, you made that obvious. I take it Carly invited her tonight?”
“Well,” Sam says. “You never told us why you broke up so Carly figured it was fine to invite her.”
“Sam, it’s almost like you want to know why we broke up,” he says sarcastically. He won’t look her in the eye though and that only makes her more determined to find out the reason.
“Just tell me, Benson. Tell me or you can’t have your present and your present is awesome.”
He sighs and he’s blushing a little and, oh man, this is going to be amazing. She can’t wait to tell Carly.
“She knew you didn’t like her,” Freddie starts. “And you were really horrible to her. All the time. And I guess she got sick of it and she asked me to start defending her more and when that didn’t work she asked me to choose.”
Sam stares, dumbfounded.
“Choose? Like, between me and her?” she asks.
“More like... No, yeah. Between you and her and I... well.”
He and Maria broke up. Which means he chose her. Freddie’s pretty red in the face now and he still won’t look at her and Sam isn’t usually too great at figuring out when people don’t want to talk but even she can see that it would probably be a good idea to change the subject.
“Do you want your present now?” she asks. Freddie freezes and then visibly relaxes as he realises she isn’t going to push the Maria thing. He narrows his eyes at her and seems to actually consider her question.
“Does it involve me being physically injured like my last birthday present from you?” Sam grins as she remembers. That was a good day. Not for Freddie, maybe. It’s probably not fun spending your birthday in hospital but it was fun for Sam to watch.
“Not this year, sadly. It’s... you can insult me,” she says. It took her ages to think of something good for him. It’s hard to top free meat. She thinks this is pretty awesome though. As a present for Freddie. She doubts it will be awesome for her.
“Five times. For free. No comebacks, no delayed punishment, no nothing. You also get one free slap. The insults have to be used within the week but the slap lasts a month.”
Freddie’s silent and his face is blank. He just looks at her, his head slightly cocked like he’s trying to figure her out. She hates it when he looks at her like that. Maybe this was a dumb idea. She’s just about to take it back, to laugh it off and hit him for thinking she would actually allow him to insult for her free when he says something.
“You’re rude.”
“Uh, was that one?” She’s a little thrown. She expected him to save them up until he could really make them mean but... if he wants to waste them then that’s his problem.
“Yeah, it was,” he says as he takes a step closer to her. “You’re also far too violent to be completely sane. Sometimes I think you’re an actual psychopath.”
He takes another little step.
“That’s two. Three is that you’re mean. Seriously mean. You made Gibby cry three times last week.”
She opens her mouth to defend herself before she realises that she’s not allowed. Freddie notices and smirks at her. Sam really hates herself for noticing how hot that is. Freddie takes one more step forward. He’s right in front of her now, almost touching her and if he moves a couple of centimetres forward he could kiss her. She tilts her head up to look at him, her stomach fluttering with anticipation because she knows it’ll happen. Screw you, Maria. Sam wins.
“Four,” he says quietly. She can feel his breath against her skin, can smell the faint tinge of beer (the beer that Spencer had sworn to Mrs Benson that he would not be providing but had anyway, because he’s awesome) and it should be gross but it’s not and if that isn’t proof that hanging around with these idiots she calls friends has turned her soft then what is?
“Four is that you’re lazy and unmotivated and...” he trails off. He’s looking at her mouth, she notices. Fuck. “They last a week?”
“Yeah. Well, the one you have left does.”
“That’s good.”
And then he kisses her. He kisses her and puts his hands on her waist and presses her against the door. She grunts into his mouth and kisses back because, finally. They make out for a while, until Sam pushes against him because she’s had enough of that and he pulls back. His lips are a little swollen from where she bit them and he’s breathing harder than usual. He raises an eyebrow at her.
“Do you want to stop?” he asks. He sounds pretty dubious. She shakes her head and then she pulls off her shirt and walks over to the bed.
“Do you need an invitation or some chizz?” He smiles at her and follows her over to the bed.
“Realmente no hago,” he says as he lies down next to her. Cheese on a pogo stick, now even his dorky random Spanish is hot. Was there acid in the beer?
The third time Sam sleeps with Freddie is on his 18th birthday in Carly’s spare bedroom while all their friends are downstairs. It’s pretty fucking good. He gets her naked and then he goes down on her again (and he’s still great at that) and then they fuck on top of some musty sheets and Sam, completely involuntarily, groans his name when she comes. He laughs into her shoulder and then swears as he follows her.
When they’re lying there, after, he taps his fingers against her hip and says “you’re just completely unlikeable, really.” Sam grins at the ceiling.
“That’s five, buddy.”
“Yeah. I still have a slap, right?”
“Use it wisely.”
Freddie laughs and gets off the bed. He throws her underwear at her and starts tugging his clothes on. When he’s dressed he looks at her, still lying on the bed in her underwear, and smiles.
“See you down there?” he asks.
Sam nods.
**
The fourth time is simple. It’s really simple and easy and it’s good. It’s the stuff that happens after the fourth time that’s messy. It’s also when the vaguely romantic stuff that Sam pretends didn’t happen happened. Whenever Carly gushes over what happened between the fourth time Sam and Freddie fucked and the fifth time Sam and Freddie fucked (although, granted, she does not say it like that), Sam always like to remind her of the messy parts. It was more messy than romantic, really. Mostly. Kind of.
**
It’s April and it’s Sam’s 18th birthday. She has a party at Carly’s (shocking, she knows) and she keeps catching Freddie’s eye. Freddie has that stupid I think I’m so cool smile on his face and she hates herself a little bit because she’s totally hitting that later. He knows it, she knows it and that stupid smile on his face knows it.
He corners her halfway through the party and before he starts talking he looks around to make sure no-one’s listening.
Sam rolls her eyes. “No-one cares what you have to say, Frediterranean.”
“You care,” he snaps back. “Listen, my Mom’s gone away and...”
“Your Mom left you alone in the house?” she asks, incredulous. “By yourself? Did she forget how crazy she is?”
Freddie glares at her. “Whatever, Sam. So I guess you don’t want to come over after the party. Even though I have a tub of ready cooked meatballs in my fridge.”
Jerk.
“Fine,” she growls. “But don’t think that a tub of meatballs will make me just fall into bed with you.”
Freddie laughs. “Oh, Sam. I don’t need the meatballs.”
And that’s... well, it’s true. But there’s no need for Freddie to know that it’s true so she hits him. He groans in pain when she punches him in the stomach and she walks away with a smile on her face.
**
Eventually, the party winds down and it’s just the three of them hanging with Spencer and Socko on the couch. Carly’s yawning behind her glass and Sam can feel Freddie sneaking looks at her from the couch. She grins into her hand.
“Staying here tonight?” Spencer asks.
Sam glances at Freddie quickly but he just raises his eyebrows at her.
“I have to be at home tomorrow morning so I’ll head home in a few,” she says. Sometimes, her skills impress even her. “My Mom wants to take me to her favourite breakfast cafe. It’s right next to the county jail. Should be awesome.”
Spencer and Carly get that look on their faces. They have this identical look that they turn on Sam sometimes; like they are equally as amused by what she says as they are horrified. Freddie is grinning all smirkily at her and Socko is looking back and forth between the two of them. Sam glowers at him. He better not say a word or Spencer’s going to find out who ‘accidentally’ broke that blowtorch he loved so much.
Socko rolls his eyes but he doesn’t say a word. Smart move.
“Do you want a ride home?” Freddie asks.
“Uh, excuse me,” Spencer says. “Have you been drinking the beer that I definitely did not provide for you because you’re underage?”
“I had one,” Freddie replies. “I’m totally fine to drive!” Spencer narrows his eyes and leans in close to Freddie’s face. He stays there for a while, staring, and then nods.
“You may go,” he says.
“Gee, thanks. You’re so kind, Spencer.” Spencer nods magnanimously and tips his bottle in Freddie’s direction.
“Stop being lame,” Sam says as she gets up. “Let’s go.”
She hugs Carly and waves at everyone as she opens the door. Freddie follows her out and, once the door closes behind them, they stand in the hallway in silence. She looks up at Freddie and finds him grinning at her. He takes a step towards her and then they’re kissing. She lets him press her against his front door and they make out for a while, his hands at her waist.
Sam pulls back after a couple of minutes. “Meatballs?” she asks quietly.
“Later,” Freddie says. He reaches around her to open the door and they head inside. Freddie is holding her hand, she realises, as he leads her to his room. She wants to kiss him again.
And that’s how simple the fourth time is. There’s no angst or jealousy. There’s just the two of them smiling at each other all night, quickly and secretly, and the two of them quietly making out in a hallway and then the two of them not so quietly having sex in Freddie’s bedroom. Sam lies there in his bed, afterwards, and she groans something about not wanting to move ever again. Freddie slips an arm around her waist and says so stay against the back of her neck. Sam stays.
**
The next morning Sam wakes up with Freddie’s chest pressed against her back and his nasty breath on her ear. She kicks him until he wakes up.
“Make me breakfast,” she says once he’s started making disgruntled sounds.
He sighs but he seems to understand that there’s no point arguing because he gets up and walks out into the kitchen. He makes her a bacon sandwich and Sam kisses him in front of the stove and it’s so grossly domestic that Sam wants to hurl as soon as she does it. Except then he kisses her in his bedroom when she gets dressed and she kisses him in his hallway before they leave the apartment and, when he drives her home, he kisses her in the front seat and waits until she’s inside before he drives away. And it does make her want to hurl but mostly it’s nice and as he drives away in his dorky car she watches him through the window.
**
Freddie’s calling her name so she stops by her locker and lets him catch up. She nods a greeting at him and starts fishing in her bag for today’s only fatcake. She’s trying to cut down.
“So, hey,” he says. He sounds weird but Sam can’t tell what’s up with him.
“What?” she asks, mouth full of cake. He grimaces at her and she smiles sweetly so that he can see all the food in her mouth.
“You’re a delight,” he says, shaking his head.
“Is this about the cat in your car?” Sam asks. “Because that probably had nothing to do with me.”
“No, it’s... Wait. What! What cat?” he asks. She looks away, feigning innocence.
“Never mind,” he says, through gritted teeth. “Listen. Do you, uh. Would you like to go to the prom with me?”
Sam blinks. And then she blinks again. Freddie’s blushing and Sam can’t do anything but stare at him. She swallows her food.
“Could you repeat that?” she asks. He did not just ask her to prom. She doesn’t want to hear another word about the fucking prom. Melanie’s been going on about hers for weeks and weeks and Carly’s started in on it now too. Earlier today, Sam and Freddie had spent 3 hours listening to Carly talk about her date (the wonderful and amazing and dreamy Anthony) and her dress (red with frills on the bottom and some lace on the back and, Sam, do you think the gold shoes or the black?) and the decorations (because of course Carly’s on the prom committee). They’d glanced at each other sympathetically afterwards and Sam had thought that they were on the same wavelength. Sam ripped down a prom poster less than 15 minutes ago and threw it at Gibby’s head. Sam does not want to even think about prom let alone go to it. With Freddie.
“I asked you to prom. Would you like to go to prom with me? Did you not hear me over the sound of your chewing?”
She glares at him and punches him in the arm for that. And then she punches him again for asking her to prom. What does he think this thing is? It is not prom material. Its sex sometimes and being friends sometimes and she still thinks he’s a lameass dork the rest of the time (most of the time).
“What the hell, Benson?” she yells. “I don’t want to go to the chizzing prom with you. I’m not your girlfriend and I’m sure as hell not Carly.”
Freddie looks confused and then he looks hurt. He covers it up pretty quickly but she saw it. It only makes her madder. She never gave him the wrong idea about this. He’s such an idiot. It’s not even her he really wants to go with. She’s not stupid. They listen to Carly go on about her date for hours and then Freddie’s asking Sam to prom a few hours later? He must think she’s an idiot. And maybe she has been, what with the sex and everything, but she's not stupid enough to want to go to the prom with him. She doesn’t even like him, for cheese’s sake.
Freddie shrugs, looking calm, and says “Ok then. Sorry I asked.”
She knows he’s going to try and laugh this off. He'll pretend it’s another thing that doesn’t matter and she’s so angry at him that she can’t see straight. Her fatcake is crumbling in her clenched fist.
“Get lost, Fredward,” she sneers. “You’re so lame, geez. Who would want to go with you? Do you even have your Mom’s permission to leave the house on a Friday night? That’s tick bath night, right?”
Freddie stares at her, eyes wide. She hasn’t really been awful to him since that first time they slept together, when she was freaking out and taking it out on him. She makes fun of him, sure, but she usually doesn’t do it with so much venom in her voice.
“Sam,” he says. He’s talking to her calmly and slowly, like she’s a child and she hates it. It makes her want to scream.
She clenches her teeth.
“Leave me alone,” she says, seething. She turns to her locker and turns the dial slowly. She wants to punch the door off but she doesn’t want him to see her lose it. She hears him take a breath, like he’s going to say something, but, after a moment, he just walks away. Sam stares at her locker for a long time.
**
She’s horrible to him for a couple of weeks. She mocks him on camera whilst they’re doing the show and she tells people at school that he was born with seventeen nipples. Carly shouts at her a few times but because Sam refuses to tell her what happened she can’t really do anything. One day Carly just turns to Freddie and tells him to get it over with and apologise. Freddie doesn’t even look up from his laptop.
“It’s Sam’s issue. I don’t have anything to apologise for,” he says. Sam punches him in the head as she storms out.
Two weeks after that, Sam is sitting in the studio working on a Cowboy & Idiot Girl sketch when Carly runs into the studio.
“Freddie’s not doing the show this week! He said that he has better things to do than stand around while you insult him on the internet and that he can do that from his apartment and then something about how stupid and annoying you are!”
Carly says this very fast and very shrilly. Sam rolls her eyes. She doesn’t buy it. Freddie’s threatened to quit before. He always comes back. God forbid he let Carly down.
“Sam,” Carly says, quietly. “Sam, I think this is serious. He said he had a friend from the AV club all lined up to do the camera work and that we’d be fine without him.”
Sam shakes her head in disbelief. He’s such a drama queen.
“What did you do to him?” Carly asks. She sounds serious, now. Like she’s only just realising that this isn’t like the other times and maybe this is real.
Sam doesn’t answer. She’s still not sure.
**
“In 5, 4, 3, 2…”
Sam and Carly both take a breath - they're yodelling the greeting this week (as per ChrisChizz's request, that weirdo freak) - but before they can start, they're interrupted.
“…1.”
They both freeze and stare into the camera, mouths hanging open. They turn to each other and Sam reaches out slowly to shut Carly's mouth. Carly turns back to Jack - he's holding the camera while he looks back and forth, confused, between Sam and Carly. He seems to have no idea what he’s done.
Carly looks to Sam for help (she’s thrown! Freddie never said the one before a show and now she's not quite sure how to start yodelling. Will the yodel still work, post awkward pause?) but Sam is just staring at the door. She looks mad. Really mad. Freddie should be scared for his appendages mad. They all stand like that for a few seconds, in painful silence, until Carly can’t hold it in any longer.
“You're not supposed to say the one, Jack!” she shouts, quickly. That seems to break Sam's trance. She storms towards the door and Carly can hear her stomping down the stairs.
“Oh, uh. I'm not sure we'll ever see Freddie again,” she tells the camera, mostly accidentally. Her eyes widen as she realises what she just said. “Um, oh! No! Police of Seattle and the greater Washington state - what I just said is in no way related to Sam storming out of here. Please don't put her in juvy. Again. Um, uh, we're experiencing some... technical difficulties today. While we try and fix them please enjoy this video of a man chewing his own foot! Jack, cue the video?”
Jack tries, bless him, but he can't seem to figure out Freddie's laptop and hold the camera at the same time. Carly sighs, loudly. In the end, Jack sets the camera down on the floor while he types away and Carly just looks on in amazement. There’s nothing to be done now. Carly lies down on the floor and looks into the camera.
“This... isn't going well. Sorry, people of the internet.”
**
Sam pounds on Freddie’s door. That doof better be ready to grovel.
“Freddie!” she screams through the door. “Open the door, you stubrag!”
The door opens and Freddie leans against the doorjamb, one eyebrow raised at her.
“Yes?”
“What is wrong with you? We have a show to do! You can’t just abandon the show! You’re so...” She can’t even think of a word to describe how angry she is so she just growls at him. That growl has scared many a mugger – it should work on Freddie. He looks pretty unimpressed. Jerk.
“I said I didn’t want to do the show and I don’t. I sent someone in my place – Jack’s perfectly capable of filming the show. It’s not like I do anything too complicated, right?”
That just makes her even madder. She glares at him but he just raises his stupid eyebrow again. Next time she finds him asleep she’s going to shave off that eyebrow.
“He said the one! Fredward, he said the one,” she tells him.
“He... what?” Freddie sounds pretty scandalised too. “That’s... not the point. Sam, I’m not doing it. I don’t need to stand there and let you, you know, beat me up and stuff.”
“You asked me to prom,” Sam says suddenly. She really had not planned to say that. Eurgh, Freddie.
Freddie narrows his eyes, like he’s not sure where this is going. That makes two of them.
“Yep,” he says.
“Why? I mean, why would you ask me to prom?” She says it like it’s the worst thing he could ever have done and, really, it sort of is. This has been the worst couple of weeks ever. She hasn’t even been able to enjoy mocking Freddie.
“Why?” he repeats. Freddie sighs and scrubs his hand over his face. He laughs a little, although it doesn’t sound amused.
“Do you promise not to hit me if I tell you?”
“No,” she says.
“Ok,” he says. “I asked you to prom because I’d like to take you to prom. I want to buy you a corsage and pick you up and see you in a dress and dance with you. I want to make fun of everyone with you and stop you spiking the punch and pull you away from every guy who tries to ask you to dance. For their own safety, obviously. Sam, I want to go out with you despite the very real and constant threat of physical injury and emotional torment. I like you. Most of the time. The rest of the time I... well, I kind of despise you.”
“Oh,” she mutters. That was unexpected. Crap. “Uh, me too? Despise you, I mean. Mostly,” she says. She doesn’t think her voice has ever sounded like this before.
Freddie smiles a little. He nods like he knows what she means.
“I thought... Carly already had a date,” Sam admits and it’s the hardest thing she’s ever had to say. She got it wrong, though, and she’s punched him a lot these past couple of weeks. It’s the least she can do.
Freddie looks confused for a second but then he seems to get it and his face turns all disbelieving. Sam hates the stupid lecture face.
“Sam!” He sounds kind of mad. “What is wrong with you?” He lowers his voice and looks over his shoulder, back into the apartment, before he carries on.
“We’ve been basically sleeping together for the last 8 months. Why would you think I want to go with Carly?”
“You’ve been planning your wedding to her since you were 9 years old! You want to be Mrs Carly Shay!”
“Yeah, when I was 14, sure. Sam, I like you. Deal with it,” he tells her. He sounds pretty sure. Come to think of it, he hasn’t really mentioned his undying love for Carly recently. The thing is though... Sam’s not a Carly. She‘s not even a Melanie. Why would he go from wanting Carly, who’s all nice and stuff, to wanting Sam, who’s, well, not nice and stuff?
And Sam doesn’t even want to go to the stupid prom. She hates dresses and dancing and the little sandwiches that they serve at dances because, like, Sam wants a whole sandwich, thank you very much.
“Ask me again,” she says. Damn Freddie and his stupid ways that make her say stuff. He smiles and she rolls her eyes at how smug he looks.
“Want to go with prom with me, Puckett?”
“Eh, sure. Enough with the sappy chizz. We have a show to do, Freditor.”
Freddie’s still smirking so Sam pokes him the eye as he shuts the door.
**
Prom comes around stupidly quickly. Sam tells Carly that she’s going with Freddie (Carly’s face was hilarious. Sam took a photo and she looks at it whenever she’s feeling overwhelmed by all this prom stuff. It cheers her up straight away) and Carly makes her shop for a dress and shoes and underwear. It’s ridiculous. And then she’s getting ready at Carly’s and she can hear Freddie downstairs and her stomach is fluttering. Carly must notice something in her face because she sits down next to Sam and holds her hand.
“You okay?” she asks.
“Yeah,” Sam replies. “It’s just...” Sam looks at Carly and thinks about all the stuff Carly doesn’t know about. Carly just thinks that Sam and Freddie are going to prom together. She has no idea about the kissing and the sex and the time Sam fell asleep in his arms.
“Sam, I know you like him,” Carly says, softly. “It’s... that’s okay. You know that right? Because he’s crazy about you. He has been for a while.”
And, surprisingly, that does make her feel a little bit better. It shouldn’t because, Christ, how does Carly know she likes Freddie? Was it that obvious? She didn’t think it was that obvious.
“Thanks,” Sam says. Carly smiles at her and hugs her. Then she takes Sam’s hand and they head downstairs.
Freddie’s sitting on the couch with Anthony but he stands up when he hears Sam and Carly coming. Sam can feel him staring at her but she’s too busy concentrating on walking down the stairs in heels to look back. She feels awkward and uncomfortable like this, all dressed up. She takes a deep breath when they reach the bottom of the stairs and Carly squeezes her hand before she lets go and goes to say hi to Anthony. Sam looks up at Freddie.
He’s wearing a suit and he has a bowtie on. A bowtie. Why does she even bother with him? He’s smiling at her though, just a little, and he hands her the box with the flowery bracelet thing in. She takes it from him but she doesn’t open it.
"You're wearing a bowtie," she says.
“Bowties are cool. You look beautiful,” he says. Just like that, she feels fine. She laughs, quietly, at how easy this is going to be and starts opening the box. He takes the corsage from her once its open and takes her hand so that he can slip it on.
“Thanks,” she says. She notices that it matches the colour of her dress but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to.
Spencer and Mrs Benson take a million pictures of all of them and, while she and Carly grab their bags, Sam sees Spencer talking seriously to Freddie and Anthony. She elbows Carly and nods in Spencer’s direction to make Carly look.
“Oh God,” Carly groans. “He said he was going to have a big brother conversation about hurting us but I didn’t think he’d actually... and with Freddie! He’s so weird.” She sounds pretty fond though and Sam secretly thinks it’s sweet that Spencer would do that for her.
When they leave, to go downstairs and get in the limo that Spencer has assured Mrs Benson has absolutely no champagne in, Freddie takes Sam’s hand. He doesn’t look at her, he’s saying something to Carly, and when Sam narrows her eyes at him he doesn’t even blink. He just squeezes her hand a little and keeps holding on. He doesn’t let go until he opens the door of the limo for her.
“Stop,” she says.
“What?” he replies. “I’m being a gentleman!”
“You’re being dumb. Stop.”
He laughs at her and rolls his eyes but he doesn’t try to hold her hand in the limo so she thinks she won that round. Probably. It’s hard to tell nowadays.
**
Prom is fine. It’s exactly how Sam thought it would be – tiny sandwiches and all. She danced with Freddie a few times (he’s terrible) and with Carly for a while and she and Freddie made fun of people’s suits and he really did pull her away from everyone who asked her to dance (and mostly, like he predicted, for their own safety) and she’s dancing with Gibby when Freddie comes over.
“Mind if I cut in?” he asks Gibby. Gibby just looks at him.
“Uh, Freddie, we’re busy here,” he says. He turns back at Sam. “Some people are so rude.”
Freddie looks stunned. He stares at Gibby, disbelieving, before he turns to Sam. He nods his head in Gibby’s direction and Sam, following instructions for once, stamps on Gibby’s foot. Heels, Sam has realised, are excellent weapons. Gibby yells in pain and Freddie tells him to go and sit down.
“You should get some ice for that,” he says, earnestly.
As Gibby hobbles away, Freddie puts a hand on Sam’s elbow.
“Let’s go,” he says.
“What?”
“Let’s go.”
“Why?” Sam asks. Freddie’s being weird. All of that drama to get her here and now he wants to leave after a few hours?
“I have a plan,” he says. “Come on. It’s not like you’re having tonnes of fun. I’ll take you somewhere the sandwiches are normal sized.”
“Sold,” she says and she lets him hold her hand on the way out. She sees Carly grinning and waving at her as they leave and she waves back, confused.
“Did you tell Carly we were leaving?” she asks Freddie.
“Yep, don’t worry,” he says. “It’s all under control.”
When they’re outside, he leads her to his car.
“Did you... drive over here earlier so your car would be here?” she asks, incredulous.
“I told you,” Freddie replies. “I have a plan.”
**
His plan, it seems, is to drive out to Green Lake and sit and watch waves or something equally as lame. Sam looks at him, unimpressed, until he grabs the beer from his car. At least there’s alcohol to make the waves interesting.
He laughs when she asks why they’re here.
“I don’t know,” he says. “No fucking idea. I just wanted to be alone with you and I didn’t think you’d enjoy prom and I think it’s nice here. Romantic, even.”
“Eurgh,” she groans. “Seriously, stop with the romantic crap. It’s...” Sam pauses as tries to find a way to phrase this without incriminating herself.
“We don’t need it,” she settles on. Freddie looks at her and she looks back and she can see him get it when he smiles at her and leans in to kiss her. She lets it happen for a while but she gets bored pretty quickly and she really can’t resist any longer. She stands up and starts unzipping her dress.
“Right here?” Freddie says. She glares at him.
“I want to go swimming, you creep.”
His eyes go wide and he nods quickly. She makes a disgusted noise and then tells him to strip. She’s in her underwear now and she waits until he’s in his boxers, jumping up and down to keep warm.
“First to the other side wins,” she says when he’s done.
“Wins what?” he asks. Sam shrugs and Freddie nods, accepting the challenge.
He starts to count down but Sam has already raced to the water. She can hear him shouting and running and she laughs as she starts swimming. He catches up to her quickly and she tries to keep up but she knows it was a pretty uneven race from the start. He beats her by several seconds and when she reaches him he grabs her around the waist and says “I win” against her lips.
And that’s number five. On the grassy shore of Green Lake while they’re soaking wet and shivering and it’s really awesome. There’s no-one around, or at least Sam hopes not, but they’re still quiet and when Freddie stops to check that Sam’s on the pill, Sam’s stomach twists hotly. It’s the same feeling she had when she saw his bruised knuckles that day, the same feeling she had when he came to her house at Christmas, when he kissed her goodbye in his car. It’s the feeling she gets when she realises that he cares about her, that he likes her.
They swim back to the other side when they can be bothered to move again. Sam follows Freddie to his car and they sit in the back seat in their underwear drinking beer and getting warm.
The silence doesn’t feel awkward but Sam has something she’s meaning to tell Freddie and Carly for a few weeks and she may as well get it over with now.
“So, you know I’m not going to college, right?” she says. Her voice seems loud and flat in the small space. They haven’t really talked about this, the three of them, other than some oblique references to iCarly having to end sometime, but she thinks it should be obvious that she’s not college material. She knows that Carly’s been accepted to NYU and Freddie’s doing some geeky camera related thing at Columbia and Sam...
“I got offered a job,” she says. She looks at the steamed up window and reaches out to draw shapes on it with her finger.
“Doing what?” Freddie asks.
“Writing. For this kids comedy show that Dingo are producing. I thought I might give it a shot. Stick with what I know, right? They asked Carly too but she told them she was going to college and I think she thinks I turned it down too but...”
“But you’d be awesome at it,” Freddie interrupts. “Sam, if you want to do it then do it.”
“I don’t need your permission, Fredward,” she snaps but she’s smiling at him and he’s smiling back. “It’s in New York.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Convenient. That’s where Carly and I will be too,” he says.
“Funny how things work out.”
Freddie takes her bottle from her and leans forward to put it on the floor in the front of the car. When he turns back to Sam, she’s already naked. Freddie laughs at her as he leans in to kiss her.
“No point wasting time,” she murmurs against his mouth.
“Such a romantic,” he teases.
And that’s six. After this, Sam stops counting. Six, by the way, is awkward and a little painful (Freddie bangs his head against the car roof and Sam manages to smack an elbow into the window) but still kind of good. They laugh a lot. Freddie tells her he’s glad that she’ll be in New York next year. Sam hides her smile in his neck and punches him in the arm.
On their way home, Sam’s hair curling as it dries and surrounded by the smell of the beer they spilt, Sam tells Freddie that this doesn’t mean she’s his girlfriend or anything.
“I can do way better than a dork like you,” she says.
Freddie doesn’t take his eyes of the road but the corners of his mouth turn up and he reaches a hand over to lace his fingers through hers.
“I know,” he says, fondly. It sounds like he knows that she’s lying.
**
And they lived happily ever after.
**
That's not quite true. Sam and Freddie sleep together more times, many more, and they laugh a lot and there are two proposals and they have a lot of really good times but in between those times there is a lot of fighting and screaming and two hospital visits (Freddie) and one lifetime ban from the city of Buffalo (Sam).
Sam thinks that they've got the balance about right. Freddie thinks there should be less hospital visits. So, maybe we should end the story and they lived happily after, mostly, but not in Buffalo.
**
And they lived happily ever after, mostly, but not in Buffalo.