Okay so full disclosure: I stopped watching iCarly in the middle of season 3 and only did minimal research in preparation for this story. So if anything sounds completely off then I apologize. I don't really make too many references to stuff in the show anyway so there shouldn't be any problem. Okay so let me set the scene: 1) Carly went to Italy for a year and just got back a few months ago 2) Fred and Sam were NEVER EVER even close to being in a relationship (that includes their whole first kiss thing). This will be a 3 or 4 chapter story.
CHAPTER 1:
Sam Puckett was exhausted.
Her finger hovered just millimeters over the register's 'Cash out' button. She was more than ready to press it, eject the drawer, and head to the office to count that night's profits, when suddenly all of Seattle seemed to pour into Chili My Bowl with healthy appetites. Her hand dropped with a hugely disappointed thump to the counter. The blonde loved a late night bowl of chili just as much as the next guy but, seriously, what the fuck were all those people doing there at 9:40 pm? 20 fucking minutes before closing time? As the restaurant filled she rolled her eyes hard enough to send a dull ache radiating across her forehead. Had it been the old Sam Puckett standing there at the register as the hungry hoard ordered, things might've taken a much more homicidal turn. But this was Sam 2.0, the considerably less abrasive version that desperately needed to keep a job.
An hour of fake smiling later and her mild migraine had escalated into a relentless throb. So when she finally entered the cool Washington night with pain shooting through the soles of her feet and pressing behind her skull, the very last thing she wanted was more human interaction. But her Pear Phone vibrated in her pocket anyway.
It was a text from Carly. Sam loved her best friend but, holy fucking Christ, whatever it was she was NOT in the mood.
Emergency rehearsal ASAP
That was all it said. And instantly Sam was pissed off because both of those damn brunettes, Shay and Benson, knew she had JUST finished a long, soul-crushing double shift at work. And the message itself was so…so demanding. The blonde spent the past 8 hours serving customers and now here was yet another pair of people wanting something from her, telling her what to do. She shoved her phone in the pocket of her navy blue bomber jacket and looked down the street. Bus number 9 was fast approaching, its bright marquee visible even a few blocks away. Fuck rehearsal. Sam wanted to go to her apartment, fire up Netflix, and eat leftover meat lover's pizza until she slipped into a food coma. None of her plans for relaxation involved an overtly perky best friend and a know-it-all tech geek. Fuuuck rehearsal. She sighed angrily as her pocket vibrated again.
This time when Sam rolled her eyes, it was with a smirk tugging at her lips. She always told Carly that she used too many goddamn emojis and that went double for the smiley face one. It had nearly started a war between the two of them countless times. But that night Carly's favorite little emoticon was the key to softening her assertive text message and swaying the irritable blonde.
"Ugh." Sam scoffed, adjusting the strap of her tan leather messenger bag, "Damn you Shay."
But, really, if she was being honest with herself, Sam already knew that, smiley face or not, when she got on that bus she was going to take it straight to Carly's building. That coming weekend the legendary trio would be airing their first episode of iCarly since her co-host's return from a year in Italy so Sam made sure to take things a little more seriously than she usually did. Sure their web show was all fun and games on the surface but in reality it was one of, if not the, most important thing they'd ever done with their lives so far. That silly little webcast had provided them with opportunities the likes of which they'd never ever expected. This would be their comeback episode. It would break the hiatus and show just how many people were still fans, how many viewers were still waiting patiently for their return. She'd be lying if she said the idea of a severely diminished fanbase didn't send a tiny blade of panic stabbing through her gut, right between the 3 bowls of chili she'd inhaled for lunch and the 4 bowls of chili she'd inhaled for dinner. If dragging herself, with feet screaming and head pounding, to the Shay's loft would help perfect this pivotal episode and satisfy the web-heads then so be it.
She flashed the driver her bus pass as she boarded and he simply grunted in response. Sam was a regular on the number 9, another exhausted member of the struggling masses working towards a car one soul-crushing shift at a time.
God she hated working, and to make matters worse it was the same job she'd been fired from a few years back. Just thinking about the begging and the ass-kissing she'd done to get her old position back made Sam cringe. It wasn't until she promised not to eat the chili or disrespect the customers and even agreed to work doubles every weekend that her manager finally gave in and Jesus Christ she'd felt so weak as he handed her an employee hat and t-shirt. It was only her 1st month and already she hated it even more than before. But Sam refused to go back to waiting tables at the Hunny Bunny Gentleman's Club. With a somewhat violent reputation, the employment pickings became really fucking slim really fucking fast for Sam. Chili My Bowl, as much as she despised it, was her best option at the moment. It would all be worth it when she could finally buy herself a car though. So she sat back with a deep sigh and reveled in the sweet smell of ground beef wafting from her t-shirt.
The elevator doors opened onto their studio. It had gotten more use in the last 2 weeks than it did the entire year Carly was away, yet every kooky knick knack seemed frozen in time, untouched by their long hiatus. For that she was glad. Puckett wasn't one for change unless she was in control of it. That's why the past 12 months were like her own personal hell. Carly's unexpected desire to leave, being kicked out of her mom's house, and even being hit with a marijuana-induced epiphany that it was high time she got her shit together were all completely involuntary events. Nevertheless, if there was one thing Samantha Puckett was good at, it was gaining the upper hand. So she'd taken all of her negatives and beat the shit out of them until they were positives. She only allowed herself to cry exactly 3 tears as Carly's powder pink tote bag disappeared into terminal 12, then she rubbed her face so hard she thought her skin might come off. And when she turned to a weeping Spence and a blubbering Fredweird, it was only to tell them to man the fuck up and take her to get some ribs. She took Carly's absence as an opportunity to completely close off that part of herself that needed someone, that uncharacteristically soft spot she'd developed from years of having the most loyal and understanding best friend in the universe. So when her bitch of a mother randomly kicked her out over some bullshit, Sam barely even felt her ass hit the pavement. She simply dusted off her jeans, and hauled her meager possessions to the one place she knew she'd always be accepted no matter how royally she fucked up. Jonah took one look at her duffle bag before stepping back and opening the door wider. It still amazed her. The two of them had had a junior high relationship too riddled with infatuation to be anything truly substantial. But over the years, they'd found themselves to be eerily alike, regularly landing in the same shitty situations because of their own identical irresponsibility. And so they'd forged a strange kind of bond that a pair of goody-two-shoes like Benson and Shay could never really comprehend. It seemed that Sam and Jonah were kindred spirits born from the same gutter and their miseries loved each other's company.
She found herself couch surfing at Jonah's crappy 1 bedroom apartment for 8 months. And, yes, some nights were spent in his bed because they were both trainwrecks and that's how it works. They fucked only on occasion and only when there was nothing good on tv because the attraction was strong enough for fucking but never for anything deeper. He didn't complain when her hair clogged the bathtub drain or when she left gravy stains everywhere. He allowed her to dip into his weed stash for free and, when she let him, he fucked her as hard and as fast as she wanted. All that and still, Sam never felt the flames of romance ignite between them. She had always known this but it didn't really strike her until they were sitting around smoking a joint at 3 o'clock in the afternoon. And maybe the Mary Jane opened her mind's eye or some hippy shit like that but the blonde suddenly realized that it was time for HER to man the fuck up. So Jonah let her in on his little weed-selling business until she had enough for a security deposit, first month's rent, and a few pieces of second hand furniture for an equally crappy apartment downtown. On her last night at his place, Sam and Jonah had sex for old time's sake. And when they both came, the two looked into each other's eyes and laughed.
So there she was, 4 months of living on her own later, stepping off the Shay's elevator, exhausted and pissed off and long since drug free. She'd much rather be diving into bed and scrolling through some more want ads before passing out for the night instead of schlepping it over to the Shay's for a last minute rehearsal. Sam loved iCarly, really she did, but it damn sure didn't pay the bills.
She was so caught up in her own fatigue that the blonde almost didn't notice Freddie standing with his back to her and fiddling with some piece of equipment she couldn't see.
"Hey Sam." He said, his techy crap absorbing so much of his attention that he barely even glanced over his shoulder.
"Benson." She shuffled sluggishly past him and across the room with a yawn. "Got any Tylenol? My head's killing me."
"Uh no I don't sorry."
She flopped down onto one of the beanbag chairs too hard and felt bolts of lightning shoot through her forehead.
"Ugh fuck." Sam groaned as she kneaded her temples, "All those years with that hypochondriac mom of yours and you don't carry around any pain pills?"
It came out less like the friendly jab she'd intended it to be and more like a harsh criticism. She didn't apologize though. Hell, she didn't even want to be there in the first place. Freddie ignored her, his hands and gaze still glued to some chunk of computer geek fodder. She watched his fingers swiftly switch around brightly colored wires with the dexterity of an expert. He was the same old Fredward….except…now when he flipped switches or typed on the keyboard, there was muscle definition, subtle yet clear as day, flexing in his exposed forearms. And, though he'd hit puberty years ago, sometimes it still amazed her when he spoke and this deeper, richer, and infinitely more mature voice came out. What made it even more difficult to swallow was the stubbly face that the voice came out of. She had gotten so used to his baby face that to see it now, more angular and sporting closely kempt facial hair, was still jarring sometimes, even after all this time.
"I see you're rocking a couple of chin hairs there Fredley." Sam grinned as she removed her messenger bag, "Is someone becoming a maaaaan?"
It wasn't her best joke. The boy hadn't really been a boy for like 5 years and he'd had the makings of a beard for at least 3. She blamed the headache, it was throwing off her game.
"Very funny Puckett." His voice rolled to her, as smooth as butter, "I think someone IS becoming a man but those changes you're experiencing are perfectly normal I promise."
Sam really couldn't help but let out a genuine laugh even though it hurt her skull because that was a good one.
"Whoooaaa FredLumps with the comeback."
And for the first time in 4 minutes, he looked at her. Then he smiled. Then something strummed inside of her like guitar strings so she changed the subject.
"Where's Carly?" Sam gently grabbed her bag and began to rummage through it, "I didn't see anybody downstairs."
"She's in her room on the phone with her dad."
"Christ the guy just had her for a whole year." She scoffed, still digging around, "She needs to bring her Italian ass up here so we can get this over with."
"That's a great attitude."
"Shut it alright. I'm not in the mood-…." The blonde began to search more frantically through her bag, "Where the FUCK is my ph- oh here it is."
She pulled out her Pear Phone before dropping the purse and leaning lazily back into the beanbag.
"What're you doing?" he asked her, his techno junk now forgotten as he leaned on it and regarded Sam with piercing brown eyes.
"Minding my business, you should try it." She mumbled, already tuning him out as she typed then sent a text to her best friend that read: Get your ass up here NOW AND BRING ME ALL THE TYLENOL IN THE WORLD!
And because she was so good at ignoring Freddie Benson, Sam didn't even hear Carly's phone chime in his back pocket.