Disclaimer: [insert witty disclaimer here. Basically, I don't own iCarly.]
"Make me a sandwich, Benson."
It wasn't a question. It was a statement. Freddie knew she wasn't asking him. She was ordering him.
"And if I don't?" Freddie tested. There had been a time, in the not so distant past, when Freddie Benson would never have dared to test Sam Puckett's limits, unless of course he had an easy escape route and a head start on running. But he had been younger then, smaller too, admittedly weaker…oh, and not completely head over heels for the blonde headed demon.
But things were different now.
Freddie raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk spreading across his lips as he waited for her response. They sat on the Shay's couch, Sam's legs resting gingerly across Freddie's lap as he absentmindedly ran his fingers over the tattered hem of her jeans. Carly was currently in Yakima visiting her grandfather and Sam & Freddie had come over to do a "Wake Up Spencer" bit for iCarly, only to find out that Spencer wasn't home, possibly spending the night with a new "girlfriend of the week" or camping with Socko. With Spencer, one never really knew.
"Wake Up Spencer" had been a routine of theirs, even in the not so distant past when Freddie and Sam had still sworn they hated one another. It seemed strange to Freddie now as he thought about it. If he and Sam had ever truly hated each other, why had they always been so eager to plan each "Wake Up Spencer"? Why had they always been so content on keeping Carly out of the loop, even when she was around? Why had they been so set on keeping it "their thing?
"Or…lets just say I'll wipe that smug look off of your face and then force you to go get me a sandwich," Sam said finally, trying to cover the sly smile attempting to form on her lips.
"Really?" Freddie asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
He pushed her limits all the time now, just to watch her get all worked up. It'd become a bit of a past time for him, though he'd never admit it. He liked the way her eyes lit up. There was a gleam, a vivaciousness in them, a glint of something that sparked a flutter in his chest. There was a fire and contagiousness about it.
And he could see it on her face now.
"You're really pushing it, Fredward."
That's what he was hoping for.
"Am I, Princess Puckett?" he asked playfully.
"Yes, nub, you are. Now go make mama a sandwich. They're about to re-air that MMA fight from last weekend that I missed because Carly insisted we spend all day at build-a-bra. Don't get me wrong, I like glow in the dark straps as much as the next chick, but come on. It's not worth missing watching people pound on each other. Anyways, you know I can't watch a fight without some food in my stomach."
Like the gleam in her eyes when she got worked up, this was another thing Freddie liked about Sam. She wasn't like other girls. He had said as much in the not so distant past, but it held a much different meaning now then it had then. In the past, Sam "not being like other girls" was a bad thing. It meant she was scary, abrasive, naturally vicious, and the last girl he'd ever think to fall in love with. But things were different now. Well, sure she was still abrasive at times and the viciousness was still natural, but there were other things about her "being different" that he loved; things that made her the perfect girl for him to fall in love with. He loved how she'd rather spend a night on the couch watching MMA, screaming at the TV, a child like fervor in her eyes, than go on a sappy date with flowers and chiz. Sam, didn't expect that. She didn't want that. What she did currently want however, was a sandwich.
And she wanted it now.
"Ya know what, Puckett, I don't think I feel like getting you a sandwich. Why don't you make your own? Oh, and could you get me one while you're at it?" Freddie knew he was pushing her buttons and he felt a slight rush as he stared at the incredulous look on her face.
"You do realize who you're talking to, right? Ya know, the girl who basically made you spend most of high school pinned to the ground screaming for Mommy Benson? Cause I can still make you do that. Girlfriend or not," she said the last words with a sharp tone, the mischievous glint in her eyes stronger than ever.
And it was true. Freddie knew it, but what he also knew was that quite a few times, mainly as they'd gotten older and he'd gotten stronger, he'd let her win. He'd let her beat him in an arm wrestling contest or pin him. He'd let her have that victory. He'd never told her, but he liked seeing that smirk on her face when she was victorious just as much as he liked the gleam in her eyes when she got worked up, even if it was at his expense. It was yet another thing Freddie Benson liked, no loved, about Sam Puckett.
Freddie moved Sam's legs from his lap and stood from his seat on the couch.
"You think s-?" he began to ask, but was cut off.
In a split second, Sam had moved from her lackadaisical position on the couch and launched herself at Freddie. Freddie felt his back meet the wood floor of the Shay's apartment as Sam brought him down easily. She was on top of him now. Her hands grasped his arms easily, as she held them to the floor.
"Yeah. I do think so, Benson," she smirked.
Freddie stared up at her. Her blonde curls fell wildly, framing her face in a mane of gold. Her blue eyes gleamed with the intensity he loved. A victorious smirk played across her lips. He could smell the strange, but enticing, scent of ham and strawberries that always seemed to emanate from her. As Freddie breathed in, he felt slightly dizzy. That was another thing Freddie loved about Sam. Though she and Freddie had been dating for months, every time he got close to her he felt dizzy and his stomach flipped and his heart sped. It was an all encompassing and overwhelming feeling…a high really.
And that was why he did it. That was why he got her so worked up all of the time. That was why he was currently refusing to make her a sandwich.
"This is too easy," Sam smirked, breaking Freddie out of his reverie.
Without a second thought, Freddie leaned forward, kissing Sam passionately. He felt her grip on his arms loosen as she moved her hands and rested them on his shoulders. He breathed in the smell of strawberries and tasted the ham in her kiss. It was odd, but perfect. Of all the girls he'd ever kissed (admittedly his experience was limited) none of them had been like Sam. None of them, even the girl he'd once foolishly thought he was in love with (aka Carly), had made him feel that rush that he felt with Sam.
She wasn't like other girls, but he was more than okay with that.
Eventually they pulled a part.
"So, about that sandwich? White or wheat?" Freddie asked, grinning stupidly.
"Like I said Benson…too easy," Sam laughed, that triumphant smile on her face as she stood up and reached out a hand to Freddie, helping him off the ground.
"White. Extra ham. Thanks Frederly." And with that she made her way back to the couch, the sound of an MMA match starting blaring from the TV.
He made his way over to the Shay's kitchen, an insane happiness filling him. He began pulling things out to make the sandwich and as he did so, he stared at Sam out of the corner of his eye.
He watched her as she became consumed in the starting match. That childlike fervor was in her eyes. She cheered loudly for the opponent of her choice and booed vigorously for the other.
"Get him. GET HIM! What are you? A pansy? Get HIM!" She was yelling at the screen now, waving her hands wildly in the air as she did so.
Freddie laughed silently. Okay, she really really wasn't like other girls.
"Fredward, what's taking so long with that sandwich? Mama's hungry," Sam yelled without looking away from the TV.
"Almost done, Princess Puckett," he replied sarcastically, a smile creeping onto his lips.
He brought the sandwich into the living room and handed it to Sam, who momentarily tore her gaze from the TV screen.
"Thanks nub," she replied and kissed him lightly as he sat down next to her on the couch. There was an innocence about her as she stared up at him, her eyes big and her smile sincere.
And in an instant the moment was over. She turned her eyes back towards the match and began yelling at the screen again between bites of her sandwich. She punched the air excitedly, her blonde hair flying everywhere.
Freddie could see the gleam in her eyes as she hollered at the screen, as if the fighters could hear her instructions and jeers.
She was the last person he'd ever expected to fall in love with. She wasn't like the other girls. She was loud and occasionally abrasive. She was fiery and feisty. She was the only girl he knew who would rather her boyfriend make her a sandwich while she watched dudes beat each other up, than give her a bouquet of flowers and take her on a fancy dinner date.
And he loved it.
If it were up to him, he'd keep making her sandwiches for the rest of his life. Well, after first getting her worked up by saying he wouldn't, of course.
That fire in her eyes and smile on her lips were worth it. They would always be worth it.