First story on this site, please tell me what you think of it and lend me your constructive criticism. It's set before the events of iOMG, maybe an AU if you interpret it that way
Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly
Snowflakes fell around the vicinity, washing what used to be green and yellow in stark white, covering up any evidence of a warmer climate. Trees stood out noticeably, black contrasted with the white, their leaves all but already gone. The ground blended with the sky, the clouds the same tint as the ground, making the whole scene seem like an avalanche had stormed through it, only stopping to awash the area with its markings, before moving on again.
In this winter wonderland however, stood an old creaky bench, currently housing two teenagers, occupying separate sides of the seat. One, bundled in amasses of clothing, the other with barely a sweater gracing her frame. She shivered and shook, but empathically refused his offers of warmth, steadfast in her stubbornness.
Finally the boy sighed, and ceased his futile actions, the girl clearly wasn't in the mood to talk or reason with him right now. He knew she was hurting, she made that perfectly clear to him. When he had showed up over an hour ago, sporting a friendly smile and a gain sense of humor, she had shut him down hard, making him regret ever showing up. But now that he was here, and since he didn't know where Carly was, he knew he had the responsibility of cheering her up, or at least getting her back inside before she froze to the bench.
"Nice snow huh?" he ventured cautiously to the blonde on the other side of the bench, turned away from him, arms crossed across her chest. She was unmoving, the only way he could tell she was alive was the steady puffs of white air she exhaled into the icy wind. He wanted to scoot closer, maybe pat her on the shoulder or something, but fear of possible retaliation froze him to his seat (pun intended). Plus he was never really good at this kind of thing, and comforting the object of most of his nightmares? It sounded like someone was having fun with him from above.
"I told you to never trust a guy named Ricky." He said aloud, hoping to illicit some sort of response from her, but after a few moments of stillness, it was clear either she didn't hear him, or just didn't care what he had to say. It was heartbreaking in a way to see her in this light. The usually rambunctious, brash, whirlwind of blonde tresses and bad attitudes girl, brought to her knees by one guy? This is the same girl that wedgie-bounced a former boyfriend, and she dumped him. He kind of figured if she was ever dumped by a boyfriend that she truly cared for, his body would be mailed to three separate countries at the same time.
But no, he dumped her, and she ran off to a forgotten edge of a snowy forest, without telling a single soul of her intentions. He actually felt bad for her and he didn't even think that was possible, what with their history. But yet here he was, sitting on a frozen bench, waiting for the girl to talk to him, all the while he was fairly certain his life got shorter with every frozen breath he pushed out of his lungs.
"He wasn't even that great anyway." Freddie muttered off-handedly. "Carly and I both thought you could do a lot better." It was true, both him and Carly didn't really like the guy, but they put up with him because he seemingly made Sam happy. And they didn't really have the right to tell Sam who to date or who not to date. Well, Carly did, not him. He would probably get pushed down some stairs if he spoke up about her dating habits.
He sighed again, leaning his head back on the bench, looking into the grayish-white sky, watching the swirling snow flurries fall out of the clouds, drift down and raze the ground with sheer cold. He probably should just cut his losses and go home, chalk it up to Puckett stubbornness, and spend the rest of the night on schoolwork, hoping Sam Puckett had the basic survival skills to know when she was developing frost bite.
You wouldn't be able to concentrate anyway he told himself. Sam was right, he was soft. If the roles were reversed, and he was the one recovering from a loss of a relationship, she wouldn't even be out here. She would be watching TV, eating, and the furthest thing from her mind would poor little Benson. But even in the face of all that speculation, he was still here, caring for the uncaring. He just couldn't leave her though, that would be an even larger malfeasance if he left right in the middle, than to not show up at all. He had to see it through to completion.
"Alright Sam, come on! I'm sitting out in here, in the freezing cold, trying to cheer you up and you don't even have the decency to respond!" he yelled suddenly, frustration releasing from his very pores, but that frustration was immediately followed by regret.
"Okay sorry, I shouldn't have yelled when you're clearly hurting. It's just that…" he trailed off, trying to pinpoint the perfect words to say to the blonde "I want you to stop being all vulnerable and stuff because it's weird and I don't like it. Give me a chance and maybe I can make you feel better…and you should talk to me, because I don't see Carly out here." He said, taking a shot at their mutual best friend.
He wasn't sure what it was, his incessant babbling, pure intentions, or simply because she had had enough time to quietly think to herself, but before he knew it, she had shifted down the bench towards him, snatched his beanie and his earmuffs, put them on her own head and, for good measure, smacked his ice cold skin, making him yelp with searing pain.
"Carly has been in California for three days you idiot." It was the first thing he's heard her say since yesterday, and it must have been the first thing she's said in a long time, because her voice cracked from underuse.
"She has?" he replied. He feels stupid now, not knowing where his neighbor has been for that long. What had he been doing to not notice that?
"You are the stupidest smart guy I know." She prodded, and even if it was technically an insult, it didn't have its usual malicious intent. He wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing.
"Clearly I am. I'm stupid enough to sit out in sub-freezing weather with a girl who hates me with every fiber in her body, trying to cheer her up." He responded.
"Then leave, I don't need your charity." She replied harshly.
"But you want it." He said, lifting his scarf off his shoulders, and placing it around her neck.
"Don't pretend you know me Benson." She snapped, but still took the scarf he offered.
"I don't know you, you're right. I thought I knew Sam Puckett before yesterday, but now I'm not so sure. See, the Sam Puckett I knew wouldn't run off like a coward when someone wronged her. She would put him in an armbar until the bone snapped." He said, and he knew full well he was taunting her, like a matador taunts a bull, but it was the only way he knew to get her to open up to him.
"Watch it." She growled.
"What is it Sam? You act exactly how I describe, but you don't like it thrown back in your face? Be real Sam, what you did was cowardly." He was fairly certain he was going to pay for his words at a later date, but at this point, this chilled air was probably messing with his head, because normal Freddie would be on a train to Bakersfield by now if he said the things he just finished saying.
"Just get the hell of out here Benson. I can take care of myself." She bit back, crossing her arms, turning back away from him.
"No you can't, you're weak like the rest of us humans." He said to her back, at this point not caring if she even heeded his words. "You need Carly, you need Spencer, you need your mother…you need me."
She didn't respond, so he continued "I get it, I really do. You liked this guy and now you feel he took advantage of that fact and used you, but running out here isn't going to solve your problems." He shivered when a rather forceful whisper of wind shook the bench. "And seriously, couldn't you have run off to a beach of something? Or a sauna?"
And that's when he heard it, a sound he had never heard her make before in his presence. It was a small, tinkering sound, which he would've said was impossible for her to produce if he hadn't just witnessed it. She tried to cover it up as well as she could, but the sound still squeaked out.
She giggled.
It was small, only barely noticeable, and he might even cognitively convince himself it was just a whisper in the wind, but in the wake of the situation, it was utterly deafening. He wasn't sure how to process this, and determine what to do next, his next course of action. He only thought of one thing.
"What was that?" he asked her.
"Shut it." She snapped back quickly, still not turning back to him.
"Did you actually giggle? At something I said?" he asked.
"No, I didn't. You aren't funny." She denied and he shrugged. "And if you really are trying to cheer me up, you're doing a horrible job at it."
It was his turn to laugh and nod "I know, but kudos for trying?" he asked and she finally turned back to him.
"Sure, why not." She replied in monotone, leaning back against the bench.
"You know, I really don't like to see you like this." He said, scooting closer down the bench to her, sides touching, and she leaned into him, for warmth he reasoned.
"Don't act all nice and pity me. You have to be loving this." She responded.
"I'm not honestly. You may make my life a living hell, but that doesn't mean I like to see my best friend in pain. I have this thing called integrity." He replied and she snorted.
"Don't act all high and mighty, like you came on your white steed to save me from infinite darkness, or some other emo crap." She growled at him indignantly. "I got dumped, I'll get over it, on my own."
He shook his head "You aren't going to convince you wouldn't be crying your eyes out to Carly if she was here. You have some sort of mental block with me, and you don't want to show you have actual feelings. Frankly I don't get it."
"What's not to get? We don't like each other, so why should I tell you anything I'm feeling?" she said.
"Is that what this is about? Come on, doesn't the fact that I'm even out here count that I don't not like you, in some sort of a way? I'm worried about you." He replied quickly, huffing in frustration. "If you want to think I'm here because Carly put me up to it, or I want to drink in your pain, go right ahead, but you and I both know that's just not true."
"You don't know what it's like." She replied in a small voice.
"I don't know what it's like? I've been turned down a daily basis since I was thirteen." He said, trying not to show the fact that he still harbored ill feelings towards their best friend for her rejections. "I understand what you're going through, and I just want to help." He pleaded.
"You're going to judge me." She said stubbornly and he sighed. "You already are."
"Since when did you care if I do?" he asked. "We all go through these things, it's called growing up." He said and she didn't respond. "I'm just trying to be your friend, if you'll let me."
"Whatever Benson." She said, chewed on her bottom lip, seemingly contemplating something, and then sighed. "I guess it was, kind of, nice for you to come out here to see if I was okay, you know, even if I didn't need it and all. So...thank you...nub" She replied uncomfortably.
"No…problem." He replied bewilderedly, just as awkwardly as she thanked him. He cleared his throat, and shifted on the bench, causally putting his arm on the back of the bench seat. "Are you ready to leave yet?" he asked. She shook her head, snowflakes precariously perched on (his) beanie floating off, hiding amongst the others around them.
"Not yet." She replied, and surprised him by leaning her head against his shoulder.
"Outstanding." he said, trying to think of anything to alleviate the lingering awkwardness of the moment."Are you going to be okay?" he asked one final question, and she didn't respond for awhile, simply staring forward into the white abyss. But ultimately, she did answer his question.
"Yeah."