A/N: You guys have seen the lil icon with the skinny, dweebish kid flexing his 'muscles' that says 'I WORK OUT! JEALOUS???' Right? Yah, you have. Anyway, that's where the title for this came from. And most of the story idea. I think this is going to be my first REAL chapter fic, too! So this right here is the prologue, I suppose. Oh, and this is in Freddie's POV. Originally, it was going to be Sam's (I find her to be the easiest and most fun character to write). However… right when I started writing the first sentence a second ago, it came out as Freddie's POV. Then I realized that most fics on this site are in Sam's POV. So I'll try to be a little different. JEEZ ENOUGH OF THIS! On with the story!
Disclaimer: iDon't Own iCarly.
There's no feeling like getting shoved into a locker, punched in the gut, and knocked to the ground. Really, I would know. I experience this feeling just about every day. You think the cause of my pain is Sam, right? Well, you're right… but she's not who I'm talking about here. I am talking about the biggest, baddest (excuse my poor grammar) guy in all of Ridgeway High: Lance Culver. Culver, as in 'pulver..izes.' Then add me, Freddie Benson, to the end of that.
I've become so familiar with the tile floors of our school, it's kind of ridiculous!
I don't even know why he does it. I've hardly said two words to the guy in my life, apart from when I'm screaming at him to get his foot off of my spleen. Today, though, it was my face. Yeah, I've always wanted a black eye to match my dress shoes. Real classy.
I immediately went over to Carly's after school; can't let my mom see that sucker! It'd either downright kill her, or cause her to practice some foreign healing technique on me. Both sound pretty horrible, honestly. Anyway, Carly freaked when she saw me and went into her 'mother-mode', as Sam, Spencer, and I like to call it.
"Oh my God Freddie! What happened to you?! It was Lance, wasn't it? Ugh, I hate him! Let me get you an ice pack. Aww, are you okay? Darn Lance and his big muscles!"
That's what it sounds like, in case you were wondering.
Carly and I were sitting on her couch, icing my eye and watching Girly Cow when the wonderful Sam (joke) decided to grace us with her presence, beef jerky in hand. She had this stupid little smirk on her face.
"Sup, Benson? Have a run-in with the Culv-ster today?" she asked, plopping down right beside me.
"Shh, Sam. He's been through enough," Carly scolded, and proceeded to pat me on the shoulder. Surprisingly, Sam didn't argue. She just rolled her eyes and sank into the couch. A couple of minutes of mindless television later, Sam finally thought of something to say. I swear her brain works half as fast as the normal human being's!
"You know, this wouldn't keep happening to you if you actually tried to fight back every once in a while," she said flippantly. Carly gave her a reproachful look and I think my jaw dropped. Me? Not fight back? She, of all people, should know that that's a completely absurd statement. What does she call our arguing every day? Granted, she always wins, but… alright, maybe that's her point.
"What are you talking about?" I bite. She smiles and sits up.
"I'm talking about you working out, losing some of that baby fat, building up some muscle and taking on Lance Culver," Sam replied, pinching my cheeks and poking my stomach. I grunted and swatted her hand away.
"What?! Sam, do you really think that's a good idea?" Carly leaned over me and stared disbelievingly at Sam.
"Yes," she and I answered simultaneously. We glance at each other quickly, and Carly put her hands up, almost defensively.
"Okay, do what you want. Just don't come crying to me when you get beaten to a pulp!" she teased, then got up and walked into the kitchen.
"Wow, Carls. Have a little confidence in the boy!" Sam laughed, slightly nudging me with her elbow. I frowned and nodded. Did Carly really doubt my strength? That was disappointing, to say the least. Not that she was wrong to think that I'd lose in a fight against Lance, but suddenly my number one priority became to prove herwrong. Before I could stop myself, words were pouring out my mouth.
"So Sam, are you going to be my physical trainer or something?" I heard myself say. What was wrong with me? Why on earth would I give Sam that power? I was giving her a thousand more ways to hurt me. God, I must've looked terrified as I met her gaze, awaiting her reply.
"If you're so eager, Frederly, I'd be happy to be your physical trainer!" she smiled and clapped her hands happily. Oh man, I had to save my butt.
"Wait, wait! This does NOT mean you get to like, give me 300 pound weights, make me run for hours, or—"
"Quit your whining! You will do as I tell you to do!" Sam cut me off. I seriously don't appreciate it when she does that.
"Only when we're in the gym!" I retorted. She rolled her eyes at me yet again.
"Duh, that's what I was talking about!" she yelled. We then began to argue using obnoxious noises. That's my favorite way to do it; I don't have to think of a good comeback.
"GUYS!" Carly shouted from her stool in the kitchen. Sam and I turned towards her with innocent grins on our faces. Carly didn't say anything else; she merely went back to eating her fruit kabob angrily. Personally, I think she's realized that there's no point in scolding us. Poor Carly.
Except it really should be "poor Freddie". I'm the one with Sam as my physical trainer!
Crap.
A/N: Well guys, there's chapter 1. Or the prologue. Or whatever. It's most definitely not the best I could've made it, but I'm getting impatient. I also have a feeling that it'll get better as I go on. So yah, Freddie's going to be spending some extra time with Sam at the gym! This means equipment, weights, treadmills, swimming… and we'll see what else. ;) Alright, review please!! Thank you for reading!