Well, this is my first iCarly story, (Seddie, of course!), please feel free to review positively or negatively, enjoy!
Fredamame, Ugh
"Fredamame, go get me the-," Sam began, but was interrupted to Freddie clearing his throat.
Freddie looked up lazily from his computer screen, quirked his eyebrow, and said cockily, "Hey Sam, do you know what 'Fredamame' means in Spanish?"
"Uh, if I cared, I would've asked you," Sam said boredly.
"Well, it's your loss. Later." He threw over his shoulder, cradling his laptop under his arm and strutting out the door.
Sam frowned. What was with Fredalupe? And why was the name 'Fredamame' so important to him?
She shook her head. Meat made more sense than Fredaweiner.
"Carls," Sam began, stretching, "What does Fredamame mean in Spanish?"
They were sitting in the studio, Carly reading, and Sam counting the cracks in the ceiling.
Carly dropped the book she was holding and shot Sam a weird glance.
"What?" Sam asked, puzzled.
"Oh, nothing."
"What does it mean, Carly?" Sam's voice began to lower in pitch, a sign she was getting angry.
"Nothing, it doesn't matter." Carly made a move to get up, but Sam blocked her way.
"Tell me, or I'll tell everyone at school on the next iCarly you'll make out with Lewbert!"
Carly looked panicked-the choices were both pretty bad-…
"It means, 'Fred, love me!'" Carly blurted, then ran out, getting past Sam, who was frozen in place.
All of a sudden, Sam came to life and marched down the stairs, glaring at Carly who was cowering behind her brother, who was also cowering.
Sam flung open the door, crossed the hallway, and pounded on the Benson's door.
"Fredward, open up right now!"
Freddie's mother instead came to answer the door, and glared disapprovingly at Sam, saying in a whisper, "My little Freddie-bear's having a nap right now, please come back la-,"
Mrs. Benson didn't finish because Sam had pushed past her, and strode to Freddie's room, pushing the door open, locking it hurriedly, and finding Freddie in bed, fast asleep.
Not for long.
"FREDDIE!" She shouted, pushing Freddie out of his bed.
"Wha-," He said dazedly, his eyes focusing on Sam and narrowing.
"What do you want, Puckett?" He asked tiredly, dragging a hand down his face, rubbing his eyes and yawning.
"I found out what 'Fredamame' means, Fredastupid."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh."
"Did you like it?" Freddie said unflinchingly.
"What do you think?" She fired back, frowning and crossing her arms.
"I think yes, Sam." Freddie stood up, towering over her, and smirking.
"Well, you thought wrong," Sam punched him once in the chest and turned around to walk away, but was stopped when Freddie grabbed her arm, and brought her close to him.
"What the heck, Benson? What's wrong with you?" Sam said, attempting to break free of Freddie's grip. Dang it, where are the days where I could tackle Freddie without even trying?
"Hmmm?" Freddie questioned, his face getting dangerously close. His eyes were fluttering shut, and he had a small smile on his face, for some strange reason.
Sam found herself relaxing a bit, but her mind remained panicky, shouting, NO! YOU BOTH PROMISED YOU'D NEVER DO THIS AGAIN!
Their faces were millimeters apart, when Mrs. Benson burst into the room, holding a hammer and a small wire.
"FREDDIE!" She shrieked, and Freddie and Sam both fell apart, tripping on each other's feet and landing on the ground.
Sam landed on Freddie's bed, while Freddie, who was not so lucky, landed on the floor, hitting his head and groaning.
"Oh, my little Freddikins! Where does it hurt?" Freddie's mother rushed to him, cradling his head in her lap.
Sam took this opportunity to rush out the door and collapse on the Shay's sofa.
"What happened?" Carly asked her friend cautiously.
"Fredamame, ugh."
Did you like it? Give me some feedback, please!