title: exit stage left.
summary:
She might not make it home, tonight.
dedication: SEDDIE. And…SPAGHETTI.

notes1: Don't judge me, I'm a human being.
notes2: I ship Seddie so hardcore.
notes3: Expect more of it.
notes4: A bit of OOC-ness in the end. Waaah.

.

.

.

.

.

Not that he paid attention to Sam's smile, but Freddie thought it was kinda pretty.

She didn't smile often, Sam, but when she did, it certainly was something — her nose would crinkle a little, which was pretty cute, and her stupidly blue eyes would light up and it made her look like a little girl, like the Sam that he met all those years ago, like the Sam that he kind of sort of missed. A lot.

Freddie wasn't all that in to calling things cute — much less calling Sam cute — but…he couldn't lie. She was.

He watched her with a quiet calculation, as she danced around in front of the camera, Carly beside her with an equally wide smile on her pretty pointed features. The former's hair bounced around her shoulders with the slightest of movements, pretty girly ringlets that greeted her mid-back like an old friend, and her eyes danced with an unfamiliar sort of innocence; Sam didn't do innocence, though. She did smirking and insults, beatings and razor-sharp wit. She did pockets full of posies, knife behind her back.

With a smile like that, Freddie figured, Sam could fool the whole wide world.

.

.

.

She was having one of her moments, again.

Sam spat and flailed, and yelled a bit and spat some more, pulling against Freddie's arms, trying to break free of the barrier he had her caught in. Her voice was hoarse from screaming, her eyes wet with angry, angry tears.

She thrashed in his arms, again. "Let me go, you — "

"Sam, don't struggle, I don't want — "

"Let me go, when I get home, I'm going to kill her, I swear — "

There was a moment, between his voice and hers, in which he thought he felt her stop struggling — he thought he felt her shoulders slack, her body relax against his. In that moment, a split second, his arms loosened, too, and they just stood, front-to-back, in an angry sort of tension.

As she slipped from his grasp, she shot him a look, from over her shoulder.

Freddie didn't want to know of the state Sam's mother went to bed in.

.

.

.

The roof was a nice place to be, for them — it was quiet, and separate from the rest of the world. It was a place where they could talk and be themselves and not be at each other's throats and just…exist. Sam and Freddie. Freddie and Sam. Nothing else, nothing more.

He was up there before she was, the following evening, not an usual thing, seeing how it was the roof of his apartment building. The evening breeze was chilly, even for an October night, but Freddie simply braced himself, and drew his jacket tighter around his body. His legs dangled storeys above the ground, and so did hers, when she took a seat beside him. She wasn't wearing a jacket.

Sam was the first to break the silence. "'s cold, ain't it?"

"I guess," Freddie nodded slowly, removing his hands from the pockets of his own cotton pullover. "You wanna — "

"I don't need your jacket, Freddison," Sam half-smiled, giving him a playful nudge. "I'm the manly one, remember? 'sides, giving away your jacket is something a boyfriend would…"

Their eyes met, for a very long second.

"…yeah." Sam finished, slightly breathlessly.

The silence hung between them for a while — for exactly how long, neither was very sure of — in a half-comfortable, half-awkward way. Sam drummed the heels of her Converse boots against the wall below her feet, in a tune that was vaguely familiar to Freddie; he, in turn, tapped his fingers against his jeans.

Then, he turned to her, smiling. From his jeans pocket he produced a small device — his PearPod.

"Music?" He said.

She simply grinned.

It was sunrise when they realised how long they'd been slow dancing on the roof. The clouds burned above them, and Seattle began to awaken. As they left for home — he to his apartment, she to the other side of town — she was smiling, and it just fit.

He kissed her hand farewell, she kissed his lips hello.

.

.

.

outro: Reallyreally short, but do I care? No sir.
Please don't favourite without dropping a review!