Happy Birthday, Princess Puckett.
Sam hated birthdays. She always had. She could remember birthdays, with Melanie the center of attention as per usual, looking cute and pink and perfectly blonde, something all adults adored, while Sam sulked in a corner, usually after she had run/rolled through some form of dirt, and/or punched someone.
Aside from the disasters of parties, Sam couldn't quite grasp the concept of celebrating the day your mom pushed you out of her vagina. What was there to celebrate about that?
"Morning Sam," Freddie greeted, kissing her lightly on the cheek. There was someone who loved birthdays. He was almost worse than Carly, getting excited for his birthday weeks before it actually happened. The only good thing was that he didn't spend the months leading up to his birthday planning a party for the entire student body of Ridgeway.
Sam, she loved her best friend, but she couldn't understand why Carly would want to have a party, full of people she rarely even spoke to.
"Morning," Sam returned finally, shaking herself out of her daze.
"What's up?" Freddie inquired.
"Why would anything be up?"
"You said 'morning,'" Freddie explained. "You never say morning."
That was true. Sam didn't ever say morning, there was something about that just, annoyed her. She generally greeted people with a 's'up,' or a 'yo.' In Freddie's case, she usually greeted him with a punch, or a kiss.
It all depended on her mood.
"Its my birthday Saturday." Sam sighed.
"I know," Freddie smiled. "You're my girlfriend Sam, I do know when your birthday is."
"If you organize a party, I will break your arms." Sam said bluntly, recognizing the gleam in Freddie's eyes. It was the same gleam that appeared in Carly's eyes when she thought of yet another stupid theme for one of her huge birthday bashes.
"Aw, c'mon Sam!" Freddie's face fell. "Its your eighteenth, that deserves a party."
"How does being one year closer to dying deserve a party?" Sam slammed her locker shut, stuffing her history textbook into her bag.
Freddie put his arm around her shoulders, tugging her close. "Don't be so pessimistic Sam."
"In all the time you've known me, when have I ever been excited for my birthday?"
"I.." Freddie paused, thinking.
"Exactly. I haven't ever been excited for my birthday, its just another day."
"But Sam!" Freddie protested.
Sam groaned. He was clueless at times. "I don't want a birthday party, nub."
Freddie sensed that he wouldn't win, not on this matter. "Okay, no party-"
"At least, the dork gets it." Sam clapped, her tone sarcastic.
"But," Freddie interrupted her clapping, his arm still wound around her shoulders. "I'm organizing something, for the two of us."
"No." Sam shook her head. "I'm planning on sleeping my entire birthday, get the day over and done with."
"Girl's who don't let their boyfriend's do something nice for their birthdays don't ham," Freddie produced a zip lock baggie, full of delicious ham. He dangled it teasingly in front of her, just out of her reach.
Sam cursed the fact puberty had given Freddie a good ten inches on her height as he continued to hold it out of her reach.
"Fine," She rolled her eyes, and Freddie handed her the bag. Sam thanked him by punching him hard, in the stomach.
"That's for teasing mama." She said, tearing into the meat. Just then, the bell went for class.
"See you later Sam," Freddie said, rubbing his tender stomach slightly. For a girl of barely 5'2, she could punch like a 200 hundred pound Mexican wrestler.
Sam nodded through a mouthful of ham, feeling slightly nauseous at the prospect of allowing Freddie doing something for her birthday. She hated birthdays.
/
"I think its sweet," Carly gushed as she and Sam strolled around the mall. "He wants to do something for your birthday, even though he knows you hate them."
"Yeah, yeah." Sam shrugged it off. "You got your new bra, so why are we still here?"
"We have to get you something to wear for Saturday!" Carly said, as if it was obvious. She grabbed Sam's arm, knowing the blonde girl would run at the mere mention of clothes shopping, for her birthday of all events.
"No, I don't want-" Sam protested, but Carly's pink nails dug into her arm, shutting her up. Sam could have taken her high heel wearing, mini skirt clad best friend down in two seconds flat, but that would result in a lack of ham, bacon or anything good to eat being stocked in the Shay's fridge for at least a month.
As soon as she dragged Sam into the brightly lit clothes store, Carly was in her element, searching through racks of dresses, skirts and tops.
"Can't I just wear jeans?"
"No," Carly shook her head. "You have to look nice!"
"You know where he'd taking me." the penny dropped. "Carls, where's the nub taking me?"
"He didn't tell me," Carly replied, passing Sam an armful of dresses, and shoving her toward the dressing room. "Go, try them on."
Sam stomped past the dressing room attendant, and ripped back one of the incredibly tacky velvet curtains. Everything Carly had given her was girly, pastel or bright pink.
Fan-freaking-tastic.
Sam grabbed the first dress from the pile, a bright blue on, and kicked off her sneakers. This was going to be a long day.
/
Twenty three dresses, four shops and two hours later, Sam was ready to kill Carly. She had spent the part part of ten minutes planning how to kill in her in a way that looked accidental.
"This is the last one, I promise." Carly reassured her, passing her a deep purple dress. Sam sighed, but began to try it on regardless. She didn't even bother looking in the mirror before she opened the curtain. It was going to be yet another terrible looking dress.
"Wow," Carly's jaw dropped. "Sam, you look incredible."
Sam raised an eyebrow.
"Honestly Sam," Carly nodded, grabbed Sam's bare shoulder's, and spinning her around to face the mirror. The girl in the mirror, she didn't look like Sam. She was too beautiful to be Sam.
The dress fell just above her knees, and it was strapless. It wasn't sparkly, or glittery, it was plain purple, and there was a black belt around her midriff. However cheesy, and girly it sounded, the dress felt like it was made for her.
"I look like Melanie." Sam mumbled, covering up her shock with distaste.
"Nope," Carly shook her head. "You look like Sam, in the most perfect dress ever."
/
Sam looked at her phone, her eyes scanning the message Freddie had sent her.
Meet me on the roof at eight, happy birthday :)
It was ten past eight now- Sam didn't ever arrive on time, it was part of her charm- and she was about to ascend the stairs to the roof of Bushwell Plaza. She was wearing the purple dress she had bought the previous day with Carly, and her favourite black and white converse.
She had straight out refused the silver heels Carly offered her, along with the hair straighteners, and make up. Instead, she opting for her usual hint of eyeliner and sneakers. Sam, she wasn't going to turn into Carly, or Melanie for that matter.
She pushed the door to the roof open, and stepped out into the cool April air. "Freddork? Where are you?"
And then she saw everything.
Freddie had strung fairy lights up in the small space, and they caused everything around them to shine, almost glitter in fact in the falling darkness. There was picnic blanket on the floor, and Sam spotted a wicker basket in the corner.
"You better have ham," Sam announced. "To make up for all this sappiness."
Freddie himself had been standing, his elbows resting on the wall of the roof, looking out over the city. "Of course," He laughed. "I don't want you to break something."
"Someone," Sam corrected. "If you didn't have ham, I'd break someone, and you're the only person here."
"I have ham," Freddie repeated, still smiling. He offered Sam a hand. "C'mere,"
Sam heaving a sigh, and stomped over to where Freddie stood.
"You look incredible," He said, and kissed her gently. They broke apart after a few seconds, and Freddie turned her to where he had been standing a few minutes previously.
"Isn't this an amazing view?" Freddie said, hugging her from behind. Sam would never say it aloud, but she loved when he did that.
"It feels like you can see all of Seattle," He continued, his breath tickling Sam's ear as he spoke.
"I love you." Sam suddenly said, and mentally slapped herself as the words left her mouth. Way to be a sap Sam.
"I love you too," Freddie replied, the words feeling completely natural as they rolled off his tongue.
"Ugh," Sam suddenly groaned. "How freaking cliche are we?"
"What?" Freddie couldn't hold in his laughter.
"Confessing our love for each other underneath the stars," Sam put on an overly dramatic voiceover voice. "And we live happily ever after, the end."
"For one," Freddie countered. "I can't see any stars. Its too cloudy, that's why I put the lights up."
"You know what I mean," Sam rolled her eyes, punching his shoulder.
"And two, some cliche's are good. I happen to like this cliche a lot," He continued, not bothering to acknowledge her punch.
"I really do love you." Freddie replied, kissing her. Sam melted into his touch, wondering when and how she'd fallen for the nub so hard.
"I still hate birthdays," Sam mumbled, their foreheads still touching.
"No, you don't." Freddie grinned. "Happy birthday, Princess Puckett."
/
Author's Note: This turned out a lot fluffier than I wanted it too. Oh, the cheesiness is overwhelming. Anyway, this is obviously a one shot for Sam's birthday. She's one of my favourite fictonal character's of all time, so yeah.
And she's kind of like me, I don't like birthdays all that. Don't judge me.
So yes. Reviews are love, and sorry for the fluff. I just really like established Seddie, and fluff.