As rain gently patters upon the bedroom windows in his family's downtown Seattle apartment, the noise finally catches him from his slumber; a faint pounding makes his eyes blink open. The darkened room is lit only by the television he accidentally left on. It's been stuck on channel seven all afternoon and evening; he surmises that he woke up at some point during the eleven o'clock news. His eyes begrudgingly adjust to see the time display on the newscast's logo bug: eleven-fourteen p.m. He groans softly, making to wipe his eyes of sleep, when his phone buzzes with a text message.
He twitches for his phone, barely moving an inch before his right arm is…possessively?…pulled toward someone. Looking to his right, he quickly remembers the reason for the pressure on his arm and smiles.
"Sorry to wake you," he whispers, reaching for the TV remote and turning the set off. He casts the remote aside before turning on his right side and pulling her form close, breathing a content sigh. "I think the worst of it has passed…I don't know how much I can thank you for the cuddles."
"You're welcome," she whispers in reply. She hesitates, and then places a small peck on his lips before nuzzling back into his chest.
He freezes in place. The contact was so fleeting that he hadn't had the opportunity to return the kiss. He feels a warmness rush to his cheeks as the gravity of what she did sinks in, something he hadn't experienced ever since a certain fiasco involving a carelessly-driven taco truck. He can't help but feel as if he's betrayed his crush in the worst manner, but he fails to elucidate just why that is. At the same time, he can't ignore the sweetness, the friendship, and the attention paid to him by the sweet, soft brunette currently in his arms.
Her part in the kiss was purely impulsive. The model attributes her impulsiveness to a spate of loneliness, especially after finally coming to grips with the two-timing behavior of her chronically shirtless ex that caused them to split. She thinks he feels the same sort of loneliness, knowing he feels beholden to waiting on the friend he saved, but it's been an interminable year since his casts came off and she hasn't made a bloody move! (To be fair, neither had he, but she can't blame him for being reticent; she can tell he was raised to a higher standard.)
'If I were as infatuated with him as he thinks she is, I'd have gone to the orthopedic appointment and kissed him as soon as the casts came off,' she frustratingly mutters to herself. 'Better yet, I wouldn't have let him break up with me in the first place.'
She's concerned that his pain from the webstar's 'soft' rejection is compounded by his classmates acting like nothing ever happened. A snippet from their earlier conversation is stuck in her mind.
"All my classmates just hung around me because they were fans of what I did; even my AV club friends spent more time with me to soak up my popularity," he fumes. "I thought I'd finally break free of the 'clingy nerd' image, but everything did go back to normal, just as I promised. I waited for her, thinking she'd move on…how wrong I was."
Their respective mental turmoils and heartaches eventually take a backseat to the comfort of their embrace, both of them feeling a lot less lonely than before. Before being overtaken by sleep, he experiences a sudden wave of happiness, making him smile and culminating in him shyly placing a kiss on the crown of her head.
"Hey, Freddie?" she sleepily giggles in response, lips grazing his chest.
His hands softly knead at her shoulder blades. "Yeah, Tasha?"
"Why didn't you ever tell me you were such a cuddler?"
§
Seven o'clock in the evening, and Freddie Benson has about tired himself out moderating comments posted on the iCarly website. As he hunches over his trusty PearBook Pro, he can't help but lament the lack of a competent intern to help with the process, instituted after a debacle that involved a lawyer and a couple of iCarly's dreaded super-fans. 'If only we'd hired Brad,' he angrily ruminates, 'I'd have had this crap done hours ago and I could be doing literally anything else.'
His lower back, left knee, and left elbow are in a fair deal of pain, due in no small part to their stainless steel augmentations. The tech producer quickly opens a new tab in his Web browser and clicks on one of his favorites to consult the weather forecast, since he didn't recall a storm system being an issue that day. The National Weather Service webpage swiftly loads, and he finds that not only is a cold front poised to move through, but that the Weather Service had issued a severe thunderstorm watch for the entire region. He softly sighs before checking the current atmospheric pressure: low and falling rapidly.
'No wonder you hurt so bad, Benson,' Freddie mutters in his head, closing the tab.
An episode of Celebrities Underwater plays as background noise, emanating from the wall-mounted television in the boy's bedroom, as he returns to moderating. Most of the time, he follows Carly's rules for comment moderation: allow it unless it's outright vulgar or really derogatory. This evening, though, he plays by his own rules.
"Freddie, you and Sam ought to get back together," he reads aloud. 'Delete.'
"Carly, you and Sam rock! When's Gibby coming back on the show?" 'Delete.'
"Carly, if I could get my hands on you—" Freddie pauses mid-sentence. He clicks on 'More information' on the commentator's profile, copies the lewd person's IP address and comments into a text file, and attaches it to an e-mail addressed to Col. Shay. 'Send…delete…block.'
Thoroughly disgusted and annoyed, he logs out of the iCarly web server and slams the laptop closed. The boy swivels his chair toward the television, finding himself in too much pain to rise from it. Less than thirty seconds passes before the doorbell rings…his exasperated sigh rattles his vocal cords.
"It's open!" Freddie shouts above the low din of the show. He hears the front door of the apartment open and shut; dainty footsteps make their way toward his bedroom.
"You saw the e-mail already, Carly?" Freddie asks before the visitor enters his sanctum.
"What e-mail?" a feminine voice inquires, distinctly not Carly's. She peeks her head around his slightly ajar bedroom door. "I'm not Carly, by the way."
"Tasha?" Freddie asks, aghast that he couldn't place her voice. "What are you doing here? Not that I'm unhappy to see you, of course."
She enters his room with a broad smile on her face, angling toward the young man for a hug. He eagerly stands to accept her offer, ignoring the searing pain in order to pull her close. Her hands fall at the small of his back, rubbing gently when they find some tension. He smiles and lets out a pained breath as he squeezes her a little tighter.
"I'm kinda lonely and I found myself in the neighborhood," Tasha answers as she pulls away from Freddie's soft embrace, looking somewhat concerned as she sees the pain pooling in his eyes. "I hope you don't mind the visit."
"Not at all," he grins. "Carly and Sam are off at the mall, actually…I don't know why I'd think she'd be back so soon."
"What happened?"
"You want the long version or the short version?" Freddie sighs.
"Long, but in just a sec," Tasha offers. "Mind if I use your bathroom? Traffic wasn't too good to me."
"Not at all," he smiles, pointing towards his ensuite. She returns a strained—but grateful—smile, hurriedly scampering away into the bathroom.
No sooner did Tasha click the door shut than he limps over to his bed. He maneuvers himself into a sitting position on his bed before laying down and trying to sink back into Celebrities Underwater. As Heidi Montag begins her descent into the water, he barely hears the ping of her phone in the background. He dismisses it until he hears a soft groan.
"Ugh, Gibby pisses me off sometimes…" Tasha's feminine voice meekly complains from the bathroom.
"What happened?" Freddie asks, turning his head left toward the bathroom. He clicks down the volume on his television, suddenly having lost interest in the episode. Before setting the remote down entirely, he stabs at its large, red 'Record' button to put it on his DVR.
The toilet flushes, the sink runs, and the bathroom door is opened before she continues. "He just texted—again—to ask if I was available. Something about thunder buddies or some crap." She takes a seat in his computer chair and groans.
"I knew it was gonna rain tonight, and probably storm too," he mutters.
Freddie, by this point, thinks he knows the real reason why Tasha showed up on his doorstep. And it's for the same reason he might have showed up at hers if he felt any less loyal to either Carly or the elder of the Gibson brothers. She offers a lopsided smile at seeing the conflict and pain in his eyes.
"You alright, Freddie?" Tasha inquires with a concerned voice, rising to her feet and gently pacing toward his bedside. "Something bothering you?"
"Yeah…all this stupid pain in my back, my knee, and my elbow," he grunts out with some effort. He motions toward his bathroom with his good arm. "In my medicine cabinet, I have some painkillers…would you mind bringing me the bottle and a cup of water?"
"Sure, sweetie," she replies off-handedly. Both of them blush at her sentiment as she shyly slinks back into Freddie's ensuite.
As Tasha finds the thusly labeled bottle above his sink, she can't help but be sad for the sweet boy lying on his bed in so much pain. She feels good about her chances that Freddie will go along with her proposal for their evening; she lets her nervousness show briefly as she fills a disposable cup from the cold tap. Before exiting the restroom for a second time, she takes a deep breath and genuinely smiles.
"Whatcha watching?" Tasha asks, pointing to the television as she walks out of the restroom, Freddie's medicine and water in hand. "Mind if I watch with you?"
"Celebrities Underwater, and no, I don't." He smiles before patting the right side of his bed. She places the items on his nightstand before walking around the foot of the bed to take her place. Opting for a sitting position with her back against the headboard, she nestles in and makes herself comfortable.
"I believe you were gonna tell me what happened with Carly?" Tasha reminds Freddie while he gulps down two of the pills in the bottle.
He swallows another sip of water before offering a response. "It's not what happened with Carly…it happened toward Carly. Some total pervert made a lewd comment on the iCarly site."
"Say what?" Tasha squeaks, looking askance at the tech producer. "What'd he say?"
"All I'll say is that he said enough to be charged with a crime, I think," Freddie answers. "I let her dad know about it, and since he's a bird colonel in the Air Force, he's got connections to get stuff done. Carly's his baby girl, after all."
"Jeez…" Tasha trails off. "I can't believe some people in this world today."
"Me either," Freddie replies in disgust. "Some are plain disgusting, but some just don't care."
Tasha feels a twinge of sadness at the boy's flagging mood. "Whaddya mean, just don't care?"
Freddie clears his throat. "Like, I'd be surprised that Carly cared that I reported that dude," he sighs. "I've shown her some of the comments that people have made, since I've had to report people before, and while she's disgusted by these people, she seems to take my concern for her for granted."
At his remark, Tasha suddenly has an urgent need to make his pain go away…to kiss him utterly senseless. Too shy to act on the impulse, she settles for a hand on his right shoulder, which he happily accepts. A beat or two passes before words flow between them again.
"I wish you could have better friends," she says out of the blue.
"I wish I could too," he candidly remarks. "And after the taco truck thing, I thought I would. But I was proven wrong."
Tasha moans in displeasure at Freddie's mood. He sighs, rustling up some more confidence before continuing. "All my classmates just hung around me because they were fans of what I did; even my AV club friends spent more time with me to soak up my popularity," he fumes. "I thought I'd finally break free of the 'clingy nerd' image, but everything did go back to normal, just as I promised. I waited for her, thinking she'd move on…how wrong I was."
"Freddie," her voice cracks after a beat, tears brimming in her eyes as his sadness osmotically transfers to her. "I'm gonna give you a hug now, okay?"
She scoots into a laying position on his bed, taking her time as she envelops him in her soft, golden embrace. Her tendrils of chestnut-brown hair begin to tickle his cheek as he acquiesces to the hug and moves in closer. Through her tears, she weakly smiles.
"You don't have to worry about me, Tasha," he murmurs. "I'm used to this, remember?"
"I will worry about you," she sighs. "I don't care if you're used to it. You don't deserve it."
Tasha's hands conform to the tech producer's shoulder blades as they nestle closer to each other. Freddie can't help but smile at her tenderness despite the hurt in his heart.
He's about to explore the possibility that Tasha might have her own problems when Celebrities Underwater—not to mention their embrace—is rudely interrupted by a severe weather alert. They break apart to focus on the TV; Freddie makes for the remote on his nightstand to click the volume up.
"I'm Chief Meteorologist Whitney Simon in the KJV 7 Weather Center…the National Weather Service has issued a severe thunderstorm warning for eastern Kitsap County, northwestern Pierce County, and western King County until eight-thirty…"
Tasha glances over at a suddenly petrified Freddie with her own nervous look. He meets her gaze as Simon shows her audience an ominous-looking radar image. "You scared of storms too?" she breathes.
"A bit," he tries to play off. "Mom and I got caught in a bad one on a trip once…lightning struck our hotel. And I haven't liked them ever since."
As Freddie looks down in shame, Tasha gently traces a figure-eight on his shoulder. She can feel his goosebumps and spasming, as if he's ready to freak out. Whitney Simon isn't doing him any good, either…
"…now, this is the part of the storm we're worried about," Simon drones, circling a weak rotation signature just south and west of Puget Sound with her telestrator. "You folks in metro Seattle need to be careful if this rotation gets stronger, as that could lead to the development of a tornado."
Freddie's shakes get more intense as the first strokes of lightning pulse in the clouds outside his window. Tasha opts for quick action, leaping up to close the blinds and curtains as well as extinguishing the room light. She quickly makes her way back to the bed, laying down in front of him before softly taking hold of his shoulders.
"Let's cuddle," she gently prods. He shakily nods.
She immediately grabs for his Galaxy Wars comforter and pulls it over the both of their bodies before wrapping her arms around him. He takes two deep breaths before once again surrendering himself to her embrace.
§
Eleven o'clock, and Carly and Sam are on their way back to Bushwell Plaza. Carly's earlier decision to go to the mall in Redmond had simultaneously been a blessing and a curse, as the storm had stranded them at the mall there—more shopping for the iCarly duo!—while it tore a path through King County and the periphery. The wind damage downtown had made driving through the city streets rather treacherous, even in Carly's white Infiniti SUV.
"Carls…why'd we have to go all the way to Redmond?" Sam whines.
"Because it's where all the Microsoft people live!" Carly emphatically explains. "They've got all the best shops…and we did have all that time to explore them."
"TREE!" Sam shouts before Carly can realize one has fallen in the road. At the loud provocation, Carly slams on the EX35's brake pedal, bringing her and Sam to parade rest with barely a foot to spare. The Infiniti's front parking sensors beep mercilessly, frazzling the iCarly namesake even more as she attempts to carve a detour around the misplaced foliage.
Properly scared straight, the webstars manage the rest of the way back to Bushwell otherwise unscathed. They walk into the building's lobby, mercifully avoiding Lewbert, before entering Carly's service elevator.
"You think Fredweird's at home, all bugged out?" Sam quips as the door closes.
"Sam…" Carly chides. The elevator begins to make its way up the shaft. "You know how Freddie is with storms."
"Yeah! He's a huge baby! He needs to get over himself."
Carly sighs and shakes her head as the elevator stops at 8-C. They both amble out of the elevator and into a quiet home; Carly finds a note on the breakfast bar. Unfolding it, she reads it aloud while Sam makes a beeline for their refrigerator.
"Went out storm chasing with Socko's girlfriend Stormy," Carly narrates. Both girls roll their eyes at Spencer's…creatively named friends. "Will be back by morning! Love, Spencer."
"I figured he'd do something ludicrous," Sam laughs with her mouth full of leftover fried chicken. She prepares herself a bowl of tortilla soup, gingerly placing said bowl in the microwave to warm up.
"Hey, for real, I'm gonna go check on Freddie," Carly announces. "Have as much tortilla soup as you want!"
Sam manages to thank her and let out an exasperated sigh with the same breath; Carly ignores both as she walks toward the front door of her abode. As she unlatches the security locks, she begins to feel an odd sensation in her gut. It doesn't abate as she shuffles two steps across the hall and loudly knocks on the front door of 8-D.
Waiting for a good moment and receiving no response, she shoots Freddie a quick text to ensure he's okay before turning on her heel and heading back inside her apartment. She gently shuts the door and re-locks it, all the while wondering about the strange feeling beginning to manifest in the pit of her stomach.
"Whatcha wanna watch?" Sam asks from the kitchen, her prize still in the microwave.
"The news for now," Carly replies with a concerned tone. "I'm just curious about what tomorrow will look like."
"You didn't see Freddie just now, did you?"
"No answer," Carly sighs, flicking on the TV. "He's probably asleep, but I know for a fact he's a light sleeper."
The microwave beeps; Sam smartly fetches a potholder before claiming her prize. She brings it to the coffee table in the living room, along with a spoon and a Peppy-Cola, before ungracefully joining Carly on the couch.
"He's probably cooped up somewhere," Sam blows off. "We'll find him in the morning."
§
"Why didn't you ever tell me you were such a cuddler?"
Freddie's eyes blink open at the sudden question. "Never came up," he mumbles without thinking.
"Until now," Tasha corrects, unsuccessfully stifling a giggle. "You know, your cuddles actually comforted me too."
Freddie's eyes close again; he smiles and instinctively squeezes her. "How so?"
"Well, I am afraid of storms as well," she breathes. "It's also been months since I've cuddled…shoot, ever since I broke it off with he who must not be named."
"Same here, but with Carly," he regretfully remarks. A stray rumble of thunder permeates the air and his heart leaps into his throat.
Tasha begins to draw circles on his shoulder blades as she struggles with her next thought. Freddie's breathing slows and his tension begins to melt away under her ministrations.
"You know, it does get better," she finally says, a stray tear brimming in her eye. "It takes a long time, and it sure as hell hurts, but things do eventually look up."
"Even after Gibby?" he asks. "I can't imagine how it would…how could someone not want to date you exclusively? You're almost sinfully sweet, you're beautiful beyond words, you—"
"You think I'm beautiful?" Tasha interrupts with a gasp, a smile slowly creeping onto her face.
Freddie immediately becomes bashful, only now realizing what he said in the heat of the moment. "Yeah, but…I'm sorry…I didn't mean to be so forward about it…"
Tasha's heart melts at his admission and subsequent embarrassment. The brunette decides on a course of action when she finds her hands reaching up to cradle his face.
Ignoring his reddening features, she moves in for the kill, gently planting her lips on his for the second time that night. She repeats the kiss twice more before he catches on, and for the first time, kisses her back.
Freddie's hands reach for her shoulder blades, kneading them as the pair continue to trade sweet, soft smooches. His tongue flickers uncertainly at Tasha's lips, begging for entrance, which is very slowly granted. She smiles into their kiss as they continue to slowly make out on his bed.
Finally, the need for air becomes too great, and they noisily break apart, gathering breath in between a few more chaste kisses. The lip-to-lip contact becomes softer and longer as they begin to let sleep take them again.
Despite their shared need for sleep, she speaks up once more. "I…may have an idea for you."
"What's that?" he yawns.
She hesitates before whispering into his chest. "I…I know I'm not ready for a new relationship, at least not yet. But I'm tired of being alone. What I'm asking is…is…"
"I thought I was already your friend," he drowsily says, slightly confused.
"More than that," she amends, ignoring the cuteness present in his innocence. "I'm talking about…cuddle buddy?"
His brown eyes blink open to stare at her face. "Like, just friends, but with cuddling?" His confusion is evident in his stare, which softens to a gaze when she looks up at him with her own brown eyes.
She nods before burying her face in his chest, partially for comfort, but also partially out of embarrassment. He tightens his embrace to bide him time for a reply.
"I still have my feelings to work out with Carly," he begins uncertainly. "I don't know if she'll ever return my love. If she does, then I don't want to hurt you by immediately running to her. As much as I want to explore this, and as much as I liked kissing you earlier, I'd never forgive myself if I were to hurt you."
Tasha's heart begins to simultaneously break and melt for the near-insufferably sweet boy in her arms. She can't believe anyone not wanting to return Freddie's love, but at the same time, she almost can't get over his sweetness—and he liked her kissing!
"I would forgive you," she whispers, tilting her head to give him another kiss, one which he nervously returns despite their earlier contact. He can't understand her kindness, but he decides that's probably a good thing.
"Can I have tonight to decide?" Freddie flirts out of nowhere with a mild smirk.
Tasha giggles before kissing his nose. "You may," she breathes.
They squeeze each other before intertwining their legs together. Tasha gently runs her foot up Freddie's calf, making him perceptibly shiver. Their hands come to rest on each other's back as their breathing evens out.
"Do you…would you mind if I give you a good-night kiss?" Freddie nervously whispers, breaking the comfortable silence. Tasha smiles, as if that were answer enough.
"You asked if you could give me one," she taunts after a moment with no answer from the tech producer.
In response, Freddie slowly moves his head forward, slightly parting his lips and moving a hand to Tasha's hair. The moment their lips collide is almost imperceptible, but the sweet girl rewards him with a gentle osculation that causes him to relax and smile.
They break apart, having kissed for a little longer than they intended, but neither of them minding one bit. "Good night, Freddie," she sweetly whispers, nuzzling into his chest.
"'Night, Tasha," he whispers in kind before drawing her close.
The pair gently drift off to sleep, both with content smiles on their faces. Neither know what will come next, but both of them are content with the here and now.