Remember This Moment
*Somehow this story just random-popped into my head while skimming the Young Justice Anon Meme. And it obviously has nothing to do with Young Justice. Wat da eff. *le shrug* Whatever, I needed some iOMG canon based fic in my life, so I made some. AWAY WITH YE!*
" . . . Sorry . . ."
"I-it's cool . . ."
With his head in his hands, Freddie remembers that moment more than any other. His heart still pounds when he thinks of it, even now. The feeling of Sam's lips on his so suddenly, the flutter of his heart and the way he inhaled sharply in surprise. He can recall with perfect clarity how the breeze ruffled Sam's hair just so when she pulled back, the dim glow of the lights from the school making the blush that stained her cheeks barely visible in the night.
The bright lights of the hospital are so bright in comparison to that night, and it hurts his eyes just to look at them. So he keeps his face in his hands to avoid them, steadying his breathing and trying not to panic.
Everything is going to be okay, he tells himself. It doesn't help much. Freddie has always been quick to panic by nature, just like his mother, but he's for the most part grown out of it over the years. Or at least he likes to think so. He's learned to stand on his own, for the most part, and hold his own as well. There have been lots of moments when he's proven that, but this is not one of them.
Freddie drags his palms from his eyes down over his chin as he sucks in a breath, wrinkling his nose at the overly sanitary hospital smell that reminds him all too much of his mom. It almost makes him want to gag, but he doesn't. Getting sick now would be no help to anyone.
Putting his head back in his hands Freddie remembers a different night, with lighting just as dim and a moment just as heart racing. He remembers with perfect clarity the way Sam shifted closer to him with the faintest uncertainty on the window ledge leading to the fire escape. Though her voice had been annoyed when she'd muttered, "Well, lean," he has never forgotten the way she couldn't lean first. It was little insecurities like that that only Freddie ever noticed about her. And it was a long time before he realized why that was so important.
"Can I . . . Can I think about it?"
He'd been so stupid, so utterly and completely stupid. But what was he supposed to say? Sam was staring at him with a look on her face like a kid who'd eaten cookies before dinner and knew they'd done something wrong. But he put his hands on her upper arms when she blinked sadly up at him and drew her close, whispering a soft, "Please, I just need time to think. That's all I ask."
What else was he supposed to say? For half his life he'd been living under the perfect illusion. He loved Carly, Carly didn't love him, and Sam hated his guts. And so passed the days of his life. To have Sam suddenly kiss him like she had, he couldn't think of anything else to say. His world had been flipped over and he had no way to put it back to where it had been before.
Carly had been pissed at him of course. He hadn't expected anything less when she'd grabbed him and slammed him into the lockers in a way that would have made Sam proud.
"Don't hurt her," she'd whispered. Something in Freddie broke then. How could Carly even think he'd hurt Sam intentionally? Then again, their whole relationship before then had revolved around hurt and be hurt. It would be only natural if he took a chance to turn the tables. That is, if he was a vengeful, spiteful person like that. Which he wasn't. However, he'd still needed time.
Time he didn't have. God, he'd almost been too late. He remembers, as he rubs his temples to fend off a headache under the glaring hospital lights, the anguished look Sam gave him when she said her mother was moving. Carly had told her she could stay at their place, but Sam had refused. She was too proud. And he had said nothing.
Nothing until that last iCarly show, a final farewell too soon in their early senior year. Without Sam, there was hardly any iCarly at all. And as Sam took the elevator down saying she had some stuff still to pack, Freddie had snapped.
He had almost been too late. Eight flights of stairs later, his chest heaving far too much and the evening Seattle streets too crowded for his liking, he barely made it. In his mind, this moment has always rivaled the night at the lock in.
Freddie had needed time to think. He needed to think about Carly and how long it had been since he had felt his heart pound near her. He needed to think about Sam and how long it had been since they'd fought with any real venom. He needed to think in that long run down the stairs that was more leaps and bounds than actual steps, what his life would be like if Sam wasn't in it. He shouldn't have needed to think at all. It was so simple.
Pushing past people in the cool fall air that picked up on the streets of Seattle, he had almost been too late. Sam was a half step away from getting on the bus that would take her to her house, and Freddie knew in that moment that he wouldn't reach her in time, so he stopped where he stood, more than fifteen meters away, and screamed, praying she'd hear him.
"I love you too!"
More than the night at the lock in, Freddie remembers the look on her face in that moment. The way she paused, one hand on the side of the bus as she was about to get on, her head slowly turning in his direction. Sam had backed up from the bus, allowing the door to shut without her, before she moved, step by step until she'd reached him, disbelief in her eyes.
"Say that again," she'd demanded.
"I love you."
And he did. How he had missed that one true and blatant point, he would never know. But he did. More than she could ever understand, more than even he understood.
Freddie remembered walking into Carly's apartment the next morning and seeing Sam sleeping on the couch, strands of golden blond hair falling over her face. He remembered sitting on the floor and just watching her sleep, brushing the stray locks from her eyes one by one, knowing for the first time that for once, everything in his life was right as it should be. And that there would be many such moments after that.
His shoulders shake as he kneads his temples, trying to ignore the general buzz in the waiting room. Sitting here for so long, worrying, he almost feels sick. Scratch that, he does feel sick. Really, he should probably stand and work it off so he doesn't throw up all over the carpet, but Spencer has been doing enough pacing in the corner for the both of them, so he refrains. Instead, he just wishes this day was over so he wouldn't have to feel like this.
Suddenly, arms around his neck and shoulders and Freddie nearly jumps out of his skin as he sits up, startled. "Come on!" Carly practically screeches in his ear, making him realize for the first time that a nurse has been standing in the doorway calling his name for the past minute and a half. Way to go, Benson, he scolds himself before standing, untangling Carly from his shoulders.
Carly herself is practically bouncing up and down waiting for him to hurry up, and he sways a little when he stands, a wash of fear engulfing him. Everything will be okay, he tells himself for the second time that night, and he let's Carly take his hand when she grabs it and begins leading him down the hall past the waiting room.
Her hand is small in his, and he squeezes it thankfully when she smiles up at him. He remembers, even now, why he loved her so much, childish as it was. But he also knows she's never been anything more than a good friend. She squeezes his hand back reassuringly in response, hard enough to grind the thin metal band on his ring finger into his pinky more than a little painfully. A technique she no doubt learned from Sam.
Sam. Freddie's heart stops as he finds himself standing in the doorway of the small white room, Carly shoving him in front of her, and he thinks faintly that he should have brought balloons or flowers or something to brighten it up. Except Sam claims not to be much of a fan of either. He remembers though, the first time he gave her flowers only to have her throw them in the trash, and how he found her late that night carefully arranging them in small chipped vase. Yeah, he should have brought flowers.
The thought, however, is quickly forgotten when Sam blinks open blue eyes and smiles weakly at him. "Whoa, nub alert," she whispers blearily, and Freddie is instantly at her side.
"Hey," he grins shakily, taking her hand in his that is far too limp for his liking, and with the other he brushes sweat soaked bangs from her eyes.
"Is that all you can say," she laughs softly, "Hey? What sort of greeting is that?" Sam shakes her head and starts to push herself up into a sitting position, frowning when Freddie instantly starts to help her. "I can do it," she growls.
"I'll be the judge of that," Freddie responds without hesitation, smirking at the bored blink she gives him in return before she shrugs and lets him help. Once she's sitting, she reaches for the small plastic tub on wheels beside the bed, scooping up the bundle of blankets inside. Freddie stills, his heart in his throat.
Sam laughs at the look on his face, "Aw, is Freddamame nervous?" She grabs his hand as she cradles the bundle against her chest, pulling him down to sit on the side of the bed, their shoulders touching. "Don't be. I'm sure you two will have some epic future nerd bondage. She's got her daddy's hair after all.
Freddie swallows and gazes down as Sam deposit's the bundle in his own arms. She keeps one hand on his, fingers slipping in between his own. He stares for a long time, taking in every inch of this beautiful miracle in his arms. The baby's face is still red and new looking with a small tuft of brown hair on the top of her head. Her eyes are closed, but Freddie knows that when she opens them they'll be the same beautiful blue her mother has. A tiny hand is clenched outside of the pink blanket she's wrapped in, and he can't help but laugh.
"A little fighter," he hiccups, tears starting to well in his eyes.
Sam leans her head on his shoulder, her eyes starting to close with blissful exhaustion, and she smiles. "Just like mama."
"I know it's scary or you to put your feelings out there, cause you never know if the person you like is gonna like you back. Everyone feels that way. But you never know what might happen . . ."
Freddie can't stop laughing, and Sam just snuggles into him and pinches his side, not bothering to ask what's so funny. The baby stirs in it's sleep, and he does his best to quiet down, but it's harder than it looks.
"You never know what might happen . . ."
It could be something beautiful.
RANDOM AUTHOR RAMBLE
Da eff is this. I hate kid fics, and then here I am . . . Whatever. I SCARED U THO HUH! U totally thought Sam was like, dying or something, didn't ya! DIDN'T YA! If not, I have failed. *mopes in corner* But yeah, this . . . I have no idea where this came from, really. Also, mistakes ahoy most likely, I didn't bother to look it over when I was done.