A/N: Hello, Seddie fans! Yes, I am really writing this collection of one-shots. I figured I'd never get around to doing such a thing, but hey, inspiration is a crazy thing. Yeah, I know I said I may not come back to the iCarly universe to write serious work. That doesn't mean I can't write silly, little stories in the mean time ;)
Also, if anyone has any suggestions for prompts, please let me know! Each one-shot will include a season you want me to put Sam and Freddie in, their ages, and three words that remind you of that season. The format is as follows:
-Season:
-Age range:
-Words:
If you have any questions (or suggestions for prompts) please leave a review or PM me. Most of the one-shots will not be as long as this first one, just so you know.
Anyway, enough of my blabbering. Enjoy these one-shots!
Disclaimer:
iCarly belongs to Dan Schneider, not me.
Seasonal Seddie Love
PROMPT
Season: autumn
Age: seventeen years old
Words: leaves, pumpkin pie, and vanilla
The chilly autumn air bit at Freddie Benson's ears as he walked along the sidewalk with his two best friends, Carly Shay and Sam Puckett. Both females were involved in an in depth discussion about the newest fall fashion trends, which Freddie didn't find particularly interesting. He decided to tune them out, shifting his attention to the lovely scene around him.
He pulled his navy blue pea coat tighter around himself, making sure to bend the collar near his ears to block out the cold. His nose lifted into the air, breathing in the aromas of cinnamon, apples, and pumpkin. He knew many people in Seattle adored baking delicious fall treats, and his mouth watered at the idea. His ears focused on the crunch of leaves beneath his sneakers. Smiling, he glanced at the trees lining the path. Leaves fell around him, ribbons of color streaking the slightly graying sky.
"Don't you just love autumn?" Carly giggled, poking him in the side.
"Of course. It's my favorite season," he answered, turning to grin at her.
"The food's the best part. Thanksgiving was a gift from the heavens," Sam piped up, shaking her head to remove some leaves that had collected in her golden hair.
Freddie had to resist the urge to reach out and brush the material away. He didn't understand why, but Sam had seemed different to him recently. He couldn't put his finger on it, and it bothered him more than he liked to admit. She wasn't an equation to solve, or an essay to write. His brain wasn't wired to understand her, no matter how hard he tried.
It wasn't as if she had changed that much. She still looked the same—wavy blonde hair that fell past her shoulders in luscious ringlets, devious smirk permanently fixed onto her rosy lips, and mischievous azure colored eyes. She still acted the same—tough as nails, ready and waiting to knock out anyone who posed a threat. And she still drove him completely mad—knowing exactly how to push every single one of his buttons. Sometimes when she really irked him, all he wanted to do was push her against a wall, scream into her face, and kiss her senseless.
On second thought, maybe the last idea was a bad one. A very, very bad one. He shivered at the image in his head of him lying in a hospital bed, feeling nothing but pain radiating from every section of his body.
He chose to stamp down those inner desires. With all the sarcasm he could muster, he snapped, "Sam, do you ever think about anything besides food?"
She snorted. "Nope," she said, popping the 'p.'
"Why am I not surprised?"
Carly watched Sam and Freddie in amusement. She fought a smile, ducking her head and tucking her mouth and nose into the scarf hanging loosely around her neck. Even though she pretended to be annoyed at their outbursts, she secretly loved the entertainment. Crossing her arms, she decided to let her friends go at it until she felt like intervening.
In response to Freddie's retort, Sam reached across Carly to flick him on the forehead.
He stopped dead in his tracks, turning to her. "Sam!" he yelled, side-stepping his brunette best friend to get closer to the blonde headed demon. He stood in front of her, narrowing his brown eyes. "What was that for?"
She scoffed, titling her head to gaze at him defiantly. "Don't be such a baby. That barely hurt."
"Not the point," he argued, drawing nearer so that their faces were a few inches apart. He tried to ignore the way her sapphire eyes sparkled with mirth as she prepared for another one of their battles.
"Children," Carly chided, placing her arm between them to create a barrier. "Don't make me come over there and settle this."
Freddie backed away, feeling his anger dissipate. His feet began moving again, causing the trio to shuffle along the path once more. "It's not my fault she likes violence so much. I'm just an innocent bystander." He pouted, sticking his hands in his coat pockets.
Rolling her eyes, Sam made a noncommittal noise. "Please. 'Innocent bystander', my ass. You're half of the problem," she sneered.
"I'm half the problem? Look at you! You're able to turn a simple question into a blown out fight! I swear Sam—"
Before Freddie could finish his threat, Carly jumped into the conversation, waving her arms around in exasperation.
"Guys, guys! Enough. C'mon, you can't possibly be angry when it's autumn! The days are too pretty to waste. Thanksgiving is in a week, and now's the time to be thankful for each other. Can we at least do that?" She turned to both of her friends, looking at them with the pleading eyes.
"Whatever," Sam and Freddie muttered, but continued to glare at one another over Carly's head.
Sighing, Carly shouldered her backpack. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and smiled, preparing to change the subject to avoid another potential quarrel.
"As I was saying, Thanksgiving is coming soon. I think we should have a little gathering to celebrate it."
"Great idea, Carls! The more of us there are, the more food there'll be." Sam's eyes lit up and she rubbed her hand over her stomach. "I'll be at your place anyway because Mom is going to Vegas. She met another guy." She wrinkled her nose, which didn't go unnoticed by Freddie. He had to remind himself that he did not find the action cute. No sir.
"Well, the more the merrier!" Carly chirped, slinging her arm around her blonde sidekick. She turned to Freddie. "What about you? I know you probably have dinner plans with your mom, but you can come over afterwards."
Freddie's mouth curved into a huge smile. "Actually, my mom is headed to Fresno. Apparently, one of my cousins is in dire need of her medical assistance. Something about a skin condition that needs treatment right away. I'm alone for the holiday!" He pumped his fist into the air at the thought.
"Aw, poor baby. Are you to be okay all by your lonesome? I'm sure your mommy can take you to Fresno with her," Sam cooed in a voice meant for infants or toddlers.
"Shut it, Sam," Freddie growled, twisting his head to glower at her.
"Make me." She arched an eyebrow, calling him for a challenge.
"Sam, Freddie!" Carly shouted. "What did I just say?"
Both perpetrators looked away to avoid meeting Carly's reprimanding gaze. However, Sam couldn't escape her persistent best friend who was staring at her with a determined look.
"Sam, I think Freddie can handle a day without Mrs. Benson. Plus, he's joining us, so he won't be by himself. Aren't you, Freddie?" She bumped his shoulder.
"I guess I'm joining you then." He grinned, flashing her a thumbs-up.
Of course, that wasn't the response Sam wanted. "Really, Carls? The King of Nubs has to join us on my holiday? Can't he spend it alone?" she sputtered.
"Sam," Carly said patiently. "This is not your holiday. You may eat the most, but it's entitled to everyone. Therefore, Freddie is going to come along."
The blonde jutted out her lower lip, sulking. "Fine," she mumbled, shaking her head once more to remove some leaves that had lodged themselves there.
"Excellent! Okay, now we need to decide what we're each going to bring. Spencer and I are not cooking the entire meal. Imagine all the burned pieces if I let him loose with the whole menu."
She chuckled, and with her friends, rounded the corner to Bushwell Plaza. They walked in silence for a few moments until they reached the familiar building.
"I call making the pumpkin pie," Freddie volunteered, stepping inside of the apartment complex.
"Uh, I'm doing the pie, Benson," Sam said with an edge to her voice.
"No, you're not. You'll eat it before we even serve it! No way." He fixed her with another glare, but she dismissed it.
"You don't trust me enough to bake a pie? Jesus, Freddork. Lighten up." Rolling her eyes, she headed in the direction of the elevator with the brunettes in tow. Once they were all in, she hit the button for the eighth floor.
"Carly, tell Sam she can't take over the pie," Freddie demanded.
She shook her head, a neutral expression on her face. "No can do, Freddie. Actually, since this is the time of year to give thanks, why don't you guys work on the pie together?" She sounded dead serious, but her eyes twinkled with delight. Carly might have been a good girl, but that didn't mean she didn't enjoy watching her best friends squirm.
"No," Sam uttered, eyes flaring with irritation. "I am not working with him."
"Ditto," Freddie echoed, crossing his arms.
The elevator dinged and the trio left, making their way to the Shay's apartment.
Carly sighed, reaching up to rub her temples. A small headache had formed after listening to them bicker. Before she opened the door to let them inside, she spun around to give them an adamant look.
"If you guys won't collaborate on the pie, then you're both not invited. Freddie, you can stay in your apartment and eat whatever it is your mother is leaving you in the fridge. And Sam, don't bother coming over. I'll just drop food by your house for you and Frothy to share."
Freddie and Sam blanched at the idea of having to spend Thanksgiving alone. Realization dawned on them, causing them to frantically say at the same time, "We'll do it!"
A Cheshire cat-like smile donned Carly's lips. "Wonderful."
As she pushed the door open to reveal her apartment, Freddie swallowed around the lump in his throat. He glanced at Sam, taking in her profile. He suddenly felt a subtle ache in his chest. What had he just agreed to?
A week later, on the afternoon of Thanksgiving, Freddie found himself in his kitchen with his hands in his hair. He kept tugging, hoping that maybe if he ripped it all out, it would be less painful than dealing with her.
Said woman was flouncing around the room, gathering the ingredients needed to make the pumpkin pie. Sure, it didn't seem like they were going to kill each other right now, but the tension was thick in the air.
Of course, things didn't go smoothly when Sam waltzed into Freddie's apartment an hour later than expected. She came in with half a chicken leg hanging out of her mouth and a freshly blended smoothie in hand. Needless to say, a heated argument ensued between them, causing vicious words to be flung, a couple of punches (on Sam's behalf) to be thrown, and promises of never working together again to be made.
Forty-five minutes after their disagreement, both had cooled down enough to read through the recipe Freddie had printed.
"Nub, where's the pie crust?" Sam asked, tossing everything unceremoniously on the counter. She emptied the grocery bags of items that Freddie had bought for the day, dumping the contents right and left.
"Watch it! I don't want to have to make a second grocery store run if you break anything. And there isn't pre-made pie crust. We are preparing it from scratch." He grabbed the mixing bowl off the counter to drag it closer to him.
"Are you kidding me? Do you know how hard it is to make a good pie crust, Freddie? We don't have all day!" Sam shot back, reaching for the can of pumpkin.
"We would have had more time if you hadn't shown up late," he ground out, taking the can from her and lifting the lid off with the can opener.
"So, it's my fault? I was hungry! Excuse me for stopping and getting a snack. At least you didn't have to pay for it." She snarled, yanking the can from his hands.
"I can't believe I agreed to work with you. You're nothing but a menace." He spat the last word in her face, angling his body so that it was pressed against hers.
The next thing Freddie knew, he got a face full of pumpkin. He remained frozen in his spot, speechless.
Sam stared at him, blinking for a few moments before bursting out laughing. She placed the can down on the counter, clutching her stomach to keep herself from doubling over.
And the next thing she could register was the feel of pumpkin in her hair.
"What the hell, Benson?!" she screamed.
Shrugging, he smirked. "You started it, Princess."
"This. Is. War." She shoved her hand back into the mushy material in the container.
"Bring it on."
At his words, Sam slammed her fist of pumpkin directly into Freddie's face. He responded quickly, taking hold of his own hand full and chucking it all over Sam's outfit, covering her from head to toe. She gaped at him for a second, thought on her feet, and tipped the remainder of the can on his head, giggling as she did so.
They were a mass of orange goo, but neither person could regret their decision—they simply had too much fun for words. They smiled at one another, chuckling at how ridiculous the situation had become.
Freddie continued to gaze at Sam, noticing that her genuine smile was way more beautiful than her normal smirk. He felt his heart leap at the sight. He knew he could deny all he wanted, but he truly did find Sam attractive, especially if she wasn't physically or emotionally damaging him.
"We look like crap," he said, breaking their fit of laughter.
"No shit, Sherlock," Sam agreed, pointing to herself. "I can't say I've ever been decorated in pumpkin before."
"The look suits you well, Puckett." Freddie's lips fell into an easy smile.
Sam winked, giving a little bow. "Why, thank you. I kind of prefer this fashion statement."
Freddie couldn't help the blush that painted his cheeks. Was she flirting with him? How in the world had that happened when they were practically ready to murder each other a few minutes ago?
He cleared his throat, hoping his mind would quickly rid itself of all thoughts regarding the blonde standing in front of him. Now was not the time to have fantasies about her.
"If we want any chance of finishing this pie on time, we have to start now. I personally don't want to deal with Carly's wrath if we don't produce one," he announced gravelly.
"Good plan. Should we clean ourselves up first?"
He shook his head. "No time. We can shower and change when the pie is in the oven."
"All right. That solves issue number one. Issue number two, we need another can of pumpkin." She picked up the empty container and hurled it over her shoulder. It landed neatly in the trash bin with a swoosh.
"Got it covered." Freddie dropped to his knees to open a cabinet door. When he jumped back up, he held a new, rather large can.
"You bought two cans and hid one?" She quirked a brow.
"Yes. I've known you for too long, Sam. I figured our teamwork wasn't going to be easy, hence my decision to purchase more pumpkin than necessary."
"Of course. I guess it's all a part of the 'Freddie Benson Master Plan', hm?" She moved around him to reach for the eggs and sugar.
He felt a rush of boldness, and without thinking, grabbed onto her wrist. She flinched slightly, but didn't pull away. She gave him a confused look, asking him silently what he was doing. He ignored her question, choosing to push ahead with his own thought.
"You know, that plan went out the window the day I met you. I can't predict anything when you're around," he whispered, causing the mood to shift considerably.
Sam gulped, gazing at Freddie with an unreadable expression. When she didn't throw a snarky comment his way, he dropped her hand, cutting off their momentary connection.
"Right. Well, let's get this show on the road," she said, but her voice wasn't nearly as stable as it had been.
Freddie nodded, picking up the recipe. He cursed his moment of idiocy, praying that it wouldn't affect the partnership. He just wanted to get the dang pie done!
He feigned a smile. "Okay. One pumpkin pie coming right up."
"Sam, the pie's ready!" Freddie shouted from outside of his bedroom door.
He could hear banging from inside the room and wondered what on earth Sam was doing in there. Normal people didn't make such ruckuses when doing something as simple as changing their clothes. Then again, Sam was definitely not normal.
"Don't just stand there, nub! Get it out," she yelled.
"Fine," he grumbled, striding into the kitchen. He turned off the timer, grateful that the awful device could be silenced.
Freddie felt relief wash over him as he yanked the oven door open and was hit by the most scrumptious scent possible. He reached his hand in and poked at the center with a tooth pick to make sure it was cooked all the way through. He grinned when the pie showed signs that it was perfect. Sighing, he slid his hands into gloves to delicately lift the baked good out. He placed it on the cooling rack, kicked the door shut, and twirled the switch on the oven to shut it off.
"Smells good in here," Sam announced from the doorway.
If Freddie had been carrying the pie in his hands, he would have dropped it. As it was, his jaw basically hit the floor when he took in the sight of Sam, clad in a pair of dark wash jeans that deliciously hugged her curves, a burnt orange cardigan that set off the blonde in her hair, and a lacy white camisole that peeked out from underneath the cardigan. Her hair looked impossibly soft—Freddie had to stop himself from marching up to her to curl a strand around his finger. Her lips, however, were harder for him to ignore. They shined with some type of gloss, and if he didn't control himself, he was definitely going to kiss her right where she stood.
"Close your mouth, Freddison. You don't want flies to come in there," she teased, stepping closer.
He snapped his mouth shut. "You look rather festive, Ms. Puckett," he fired back, keeping his tone light.
"Well, pumpkin looked good on me, so I figured orange seemed like a decent choice for tonight. I found it in my closet when you drove me to my place to get new clothes." Surprisingly, her voice didn't hold any notes of sarcasm whatsoever.
"What I meant to say was you look nice," he breathed, unable to hold back he comment.
She cast her eyes down to the ground and her cheeks flushed the tiniest bit. She appeared almost shy. "Thanks," she mumbled quietly.
He hated to remove his eyes from her, but he had to check the time. Good thing he did because they only had two minutes to get to Carly's before she came bursting into his apartment.
"Time to go," he said, picking up the pie with one hand and reaching for the door knob with the other.
"Let's do this, Fredward." Her lips arched into a small, real smile as she followed silently behind him.
After almost two hours of eating (much to Sam's pleasure), both Shays, Sam, and Freddie sat around the kitchen table, holding their bellies.
"Too much food," Sam groaned, slouching in her seat.
Spencer, Freddie, and Carly stared at her in awe. Each one took their turn to wave their hand in front of her face, poke her on the shoulder, and ask what was wrong.
"What? Even Sam Puckett has limits sometimes," she protested, much to everyone's surprise.
Freddie's gaze was unwavering. He had been looking at her throughout the entire dinner, and even when he tried to stop, he couldn't. He was positive he was going insane for wanting to touch her, to kiss her, to tell her he liked her.
Wait, what? Freddie thought to himself. No, Sam's only a friend. I do NOT see her like that. But maybe she wouldn't mind just one kiss? No. Terrible idea, Freddie. Might as well get the body bag ready for yourself if that were to happen.
"Freddie, are you all right?" Carly nudged him. "You've been zoning in and out all night."
Sam let out a quiet snort. "Is he ever all right?"
Carly gave her a scolding look, but kept her attention on Freddie. "Seriously, everything okay?"
"Yeah," he answered shortly, eyes still somewhat trained on Sam, who at this point, had gotten out of her chair to wander towards the pie. He rose out of his seat to make his way to her.
"Still hungry, Puckett?" he joked, leaning against the island.
"We worked damn hard on this pie," she answered, gliding her fingertips over it. "Even if I am full, I'm going to have a slice."
He smirked. "Fair enough."
They gazed at each for a few seconds, neither of them saying anything. Of course, this didn't go unnoticed by a certain Carly Shay.
"Spencer," Carly said loudly, gently shoving his shoulder to get him to stand up. "I think we have to go call our Uncle…Vermont. It's Thanksgiving, and I'm sure he's waiting to hear from us."
Spencer furrowed his eyebrows. "Uncle Vermont? I don't think we have—Ahh!" He suddenly felt himself being pulled out of chair by his seventeen-year-old sister.
Said brunette girl almost launched him up the stairs, trying to hold back her laughter as she did so. Once they were safely out of sight, Freddie turned to Sam.
"Well, that was weird," he pointed out.
"The Shay siblings capitalize on weird." Sam left him for a moment to go grab two forks for the pie. "Shall we?" she asked.
"Won't Carly be mad if we don't properly cut two slices?"
She shook her head. "No. It's our pie, remember? If we want to eat it straight from the pan, we're going to do it."
"Sounds like a plan." He smiled at her, jabbed his fork into the silky pie, and took a bite. He nearly moaned at the flavor of it.
"You know, I'm not an idiot," she stated after chewing.
"What?" he swallowed and shoveled another forkful into his mouth.
"I know you like me."
Freddie came incredibly close to choking on his piece of pie. He made a sound in the back of his throat that sounded like a combination of 'what' and 'huh.'
"Whauh?"
Sam blew out a patient breath and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You've been staring at me all night. You've been fighting with me more often because you're in denial, and being snarky is what you're used to. You don't know how to handle your feelings for me because, well, I'm me. You wouldn't have a problem with most girls, but you are terrified what liking me will do to our friendship and partnership on iCarly. If you weren't so much of an idiot yourself, you'd realize that maybe I don't find you as disgusting as I used to."
Freddie couldn't move. He couldn't even say anything. He stood, paralyzed, brown eyes wide with fear.
"Um." He mentally wanted to shoot himself for acting like such an imbecile.
"I don't get why people think you're so eloquent. I don't see it," she quipped, grinning slightly. She ate a few more bites of pie while he tried to figure out what exactly it was he wanted to do.
She had caught him and discovered his desires and worries. Now what?
"The pie's missing something. I think it needs vanilla ice cream," he said, cringing as the words left his mouth. He had no idea why that thought escaped his mind.
"I think I can fix that."
Very slowly, Sam Puckett leaned in and pressed her mouth to Freddie Benson's. Freddie closed his eyes, focusing on how soft her lips were and how they tasted purely of vanilla. It must have been the gloss she had been wearing earlier.
Freddie knew things were about to get a hell of a lot more complicated, starting with how to deal with this new relationship with Sam. However, he couldn't find the power in him to care at the moment. The only thing that mattered was kissing Sam. And he did just that.
If Sam and Freddie had paid any attention, they would have noticed Carly and Spencer Shay peeking around the corner of the stairwell, both with huge smiles on their faces.
"Told you," Carly whispered, elbowing her brother. She discreetly threw her hands in the air in a victory pose.
"Very well done. The pie plan was awesome," Spencer murmured. "How did you know they'd end up together over that?"
"A girl just knows. Especially if she has two hot-headed best friends who have a bad habit of staring at each other like they want to tackle the other." She held out her hand, curling her fingers. "You owe me $50."
Spencer begrudgingly pulled out his wallet from his back pocket. Slapping the bill in her hand, he groaned. "I'm not making bets with you anymore. I figured they'd start dating by Christmas, not Thanksgiving."
"Sorry, big brother. Maybe next time." Carly winked and as quietly as she could, disappeared from her position with her brother.
They walked towards the iCarly studio, arms around each other.
"So, this Uncle Vermont—" Spencer began.
Carly laughed, knowing that this was possibly the best Thanksgiving ever.
If you leave a review, I'll send you a virtual pumpkin pie :)