This is my first iCarly fanfiction. Obviously, I don't own any of the characters. I'll do my very best to hold true to the character's personalities, but I can't make any promises. I hope you like it!
Inspirations: Backyard Baseball computer game, a severe lack of technology (no internet and no cable), and Arizona Sweet Tea.
Chapter One: iWorry About You
Today would have been another normal day of school, where I would groggily pull myself together and drag my feet to the bus stop to catch the bus for school, eat a truck load of food at lunch, and end up crashing at Carly's house until late. But she seemed rather off today. It had been irritating me all day, making my head spin with what possibilities could have happened, with whatever negative influence could have made my best friend feel this way about the daily rituals we suffered through together. So, I was trying to be on my best behavior, for her sake. I had to grind my teeth whenever I bit back the urge to insult Freddie, just because I knew it would make her feel just an ounce better.
We walked upstairs to her apartment in near silence. The only sounds I could hear were the elevator dinging as someone else in the building stepped into it, holding several bags of groceries and ushering a small child inside, and Freddie's stomping behind us. Why were his steps so ungraceful, always? Ugh. He was starting to get more and more on my nerves lately, especially today. But I bit back my insults. I had to. I had to get Carly to smile again.
I watched her jam her key into the doorknob and turn it gently. Her actions seemed very rushed and she seemed like she didn't want to be bothered with Freddie or myself. Luckily, today we were only rehearsing for another web show. Threading my fingers through my blond curls as I watched her slip into the apartment, sling her bag onto the couch, and run upstairs, my heart sank. Something was seriously wrong and I didn't even know what it was. What could be bothering her?
Both Freddie and I moved inside and I took the chance to close the door behind us. He started to go after Carly, but I gave him a gentle shove. I was being somewhat decent to him. "Not today, Fredward. This is my territory, not yours." I informed snappily, casting my own bag aside and following Carly upstairs. I popped my head into the room we used as the studio for iCarly. It had become like a second bedroom for Carls and I. We had some long talks and good jokes in this room, especially when Freddie wasn't around.
When I came into the room and closed the door behind us, I saw that she had her head in her hands and was sitting on the edge of the car-shaped bed. Again, my heart sank: it sank lower than the bloody Titanic had in real life. A sigh left my slightly parted lips. I had to be the bigger person here. Normally it was Carly picking up the pieces for me, reassuring me that just because my family puts me down doesn't mean that everyone will, and she uplifts my spirits. She gives me hope. She makes my chest grow tight and my stomach muscles clench, but in a good way. I sat down beside her and felt my fingers spread out over her upper back, just between her shoulder blades. I could feel her bra underneath her thin shirt; she was wearing one that snapped in the front. Huh. I didn't even think she owned one of those. Must have been a solo trip to Build-A-Bra. But I felt as if I needed to comfort her. I needed to make her feel as everything was going to be just fine.
That's when I noticed that she had started to cry, when she shifted to rest her head on my shoulder and moved her hands. Her hands were wet. Her face was hot and wet, tears streaming down her face. I hadn't known that she had been on the verge of tears for the better part of the day. At least I got her smiling at lunch when I surrendered my chocolate pudding cup to her, because it was the last one and she was bummed about not getting one with her lunch. I was glad I could give her some slice of satisfaction.
One of her damp hands reached for my free one, and her fingers started to curl, fitting the spaces between my fingers. Sometimes we had very sentimental moments like this, when we didn't have to say a word and we just knew what was going on with the other. But today, I had no fucking clue what she was going through, because she wouldn't tell me. It didn't seem like she had the voice to tell me. So I had to press her, as much as I didn't want to, as reluctant as I was; I pressed her to find out more information as to why, why my Carly was sitting here with bleary eyes when she could be laughing at my teasing Freddie.
"Talk to me," I mumbled into her hair and she shook her head slightly. Okay, so she doesn't want to talk about it just yet. The corners of my lips curved into a weak smile as she squeezed my hand. "I can't help you if I don't know what has you crying, Cupcake." My words seemed to be reassuring to her, and she nodded weakly, lifting her head from my shoulder. She had a very tight hold on my hand; I think she was afraid to let go of me.
"Last night, after you and Freddie left, Spencer and I got some bad news." She informed me, her head bowing a little. Still, her tears were falling, but not as much as before. Both my hands were busied, so I couldn't even wipe her tears. I wanted to so badly, though. I did. But when I stopped moving my palm in circles over her back, I heard Carly take a sharp inhale of breath. She didn't like that I stopped my soothing rub to her back, so I continued the movement. "My dad was pronounced dead, around dinner time last night." She explained, her voice sounding broken. I went to speak, express my condolences to her, but she squeezed my hand. That meant 'shut up, Sam' and so I did just that, keeping my lips pursed together. "He was killed by friendly fire, a gun that went off because the safety wasn't on and the barrel was jammed and... oh, I don't even know what the hell I'm talking about!" She took her hand away from mine, holding her face again and starting to sob.
"Carls, shh. There's nothing that you could have done to prevent it from happening," One hand kept rubbing her back while my other hand moved some of her hair behind her ears. I moved her hands from her face and shifted us, pulling her into a loose embrace, wrapping my arms around her back. She didn't hug me back, just fell against me, her head on my shoulder and her hot tears nearly burning my exposed skin. I hated it when she got upset.
It was about fifteen minutes until I got her to stop crying and start laughing and smiling again. Sure, she still had the lingering thought that she had just found out her father was killed, but she was setting it aside for now. I promised myself that if I could, I wouldn't let her cry in front of me while other people were around; like at school, around Freddie and Spencer, places like that. If we were alone, then things were different. And I told her that, and she agreed with me.
"You should stay here tonight," She suggested, her voice appearing to be somewhat chipper. The very idea of staying with Carly tonight had my head reeling. "But you're not crashing on the couch like you normally do. I need you tonight," I knew there was no suggestive undertone to her voice in that last statement, but oh, I couldn't help but let my mind start to wander off on its own at that quip.
"I can do that, yeah. I just... need to call my mom first, you know. Check in and tell her I'll be here tonight." My voice sounded so cautious in my mind, but I've been told my voice sounds so different from what I hear it as. Well, it goes for just about everyone: the voice of yours that you hear, in your ears, is not what others hear when you speak. It could be higher, louder, faster, slower, whatever. Before I could even move to grab the telephone, Carly was handing me a cordless telephone and starting to dial my home telephone number. Quickly, I snatched the phone from her. I didn't have the heart to tell her that the house line had been disconnected and Mom was using a pre-paid cell phone. Money was tight at home. Mom was in between boyfriends and she was spending her cash on booze. At least she wasn't delving into drugs, that's all I was thankful for. I dialed the number I had forced myself to memorize and hoped it was even correct. It was. It rang three times before I got the automatic voice mail message. "Mom, it's Sam. I'm staying at Carly's tonight. Love you." Then I hung up, handing the phone back to Carly. That's when it hit me: she let her fingertips graze along the back of my hand before reaching for the phone. Odd, yes. But very enjoyable.
"Come on, let's go back downstairs. I'm sure Freddie is wondering why we just ditched him like we did." Carly offered, standing up and holding her hands out to me. She was wiggling her fingers and everything. I took her hands and stood, but then I let go. I couldn't keep sharing affections like this with her, especially when we were alone. But she reached for one of my hands as we left the studio, lacing our fingers again. I kept a tight hold on her hand until we started descending down the staircase, where a very sullen Spencer and a confused Freddie could see us like this. She turned her head back to me and I just gave her a look, a gentle look, one that meant we needed to sort out us later, and now was not the time to sprawl her sadness into something that would mean instability and lust.
In the past couple of months, since we entered our sophomore year of high school, Carly and I have become a lot closer than ever before. She's been wanting to hold my hand quite often, making passes as me. But we have never kissed. Not that I would mind if we did. Actually, I think I would be enthralled if Carly and I kissed. Part of being best friends was sharing all of your deep dark secrets with one person and being able to complete trust him or her with your life. I trust Carly with my life. I trust her with my bacon, too. Actually, I'd choose her over bacon.
Once we made it downstairs, I made my way to the couch. Carly did as well. She slumped down beside me. My hands were kind of nervously folding in my lap when she reached for them and pulled them apart. Spencer was in the kitchen being consoled by Freddie. Essentially, we were alone, but in actuality, we were not.
"Carls, we're not alone anymore." I whispered to her, turning my head sideways to look at her, but she held a small smile.
"They aren't paying attention to us, Sam." She confessed gently, and I felt a smile tug at my lips. Ugh. Sometimes I just couldn't help but smile at her.
"Carls," I gave her a stern look and squeezed her hands. Not that I was rejecting these affections officially, I just didn't want something bad to stem from it several weeks down the road, especially when Carly wasn't even in a completely sane state of mind. Who in their right mind would go out of their way to try to get me anyway? I wasn't worth the trouble, honestly. But I had to admit, Carly and I do have something special. We understand each other so well.
She sighed and nodded slowly, releasing my hands and leaning back against the couch. I didn't quite expect her to pull me back, too, but she did. She reached for the television remote and pulled a blanket over us. A yawn left her lips. It wasn't even dark yet and she wanted to turn in? Boring.
"Are you tired?" I asked her as she turned the television on. Underneath the blanket, she managed to find my hand again, our fingers lacing. I cautiously let my thumb trace circles over the back of her hand. We were safe underneath the blanket like this, right? Right. No one would ever know we were holding hands. Not Freddie. Not Spencer. None of them would catch on.
"Very. I couldn't sleep well last night." She told me, her voice quiet. She rested her head on my shoulder and out of the corner of my eye, I saw her yawn again. Boy, she must be tired if she wanted to skip watching the boring Dingo show and close her eyes. I reached for the remote with my free hand and started flipping through channels.
"Then sleep. I'm not going anywhere, Carls." I saw her smile grow at my words and she squeezed my hand gently, so I squeezed hers back. I was coming to terms with this somewhat newfound relationship we had struck. It was as if we had each taken a step off the high dive and were descending in a never-ending tunnel. Something was just mildly unsettling about the fact that a tragedy brought out the best in what Carly and I never had the courage to admit was between us. Though, misery does love company. Secretly, I was looking forward to whatever might be in store for us, whether it be tonight or in the future. I wanted this to flourish.