Author's Note: ! Sorry. I just had to let that out. I have so many good ideas floating around in my head and I haven't had the time or motivation to write stories about them yet. I have three ideas that will end up being over ten chapters and an idea that will have two long chapters. I have an idea for a Victorious one-shot as well. And then there's this. Add my multiple unfinished Degrassi and Victorious stories, and you get from me. Sorry. Enough about my writer's angst or whatever. On with the story. This is set when Sam and Freddie eventually get back together. Because you know they will. :D
Disclaimer: I wish I owned a pool, a personal assistant, the heart of a certain guy that I will not mention, medicine that will actually work to stop my cold, and iCarly. Sadly, I do not own any of these things. Yet…
iPlay a Game
"Okay, let's see…I have my pillow, sleeping bag, toiletries, pajamas, and my clothes for tomorrow. Is that all I need, Sam?" Carly asked me.
"I don't know," I muttered, "Kathy didn't invite me to her sleepover party,"
"Oh, come on, Sam," she urged, "Lighten up! At least you have Freddie. His mom just pushed back his curfew five minutes! Now you have him all to yourself until 8:05!"
"That's in an hour! Freddie takes two times that long to prepare a slice of pizza! What are we supposed to do in so little time?" I complained.
"Umm…I'm right here!" Freddie piped up.
"Figure it out! I gotta go or I'll be late!" she told me, then yelled up the stairs, "Spencer! I'm going to the party! I'll be home tomorrow morning! Bye!"
"Wait!" Spencer shouted. I heard a loud bang, the clatter of falling objects, a high-pitched screech, and the sound of a lion's roar. Then Spencer bounded down the stairs, tripping on the last step and falling face down on the floor. When he sprung back up, I saw that his hair was a mess, he was wearing no pants, and his shirt had a questionable stain on it, "I gotta give you a hug goodbye!" he smiled and opened his arms wide.
"What was happening up there?" Carly questioned suspiciously.
"Umm…nothing," Spencer replied. Suddenly, the fire alarm went off, and Carly raised her eyebrows.
"Hug me quick and put it out," Carly sighed.
Yay!" Spencer picked Carly up, spun her around, and dropped her none too gently before sprinting back up the stairs, "Don't be safe and talk to strangers!" he called over his shoulder.
"I hope he meant that the other way around…" Freddie commented.
"He did. Bye guys! See you tomorrow!" Carly saluted us before heading out the door and closing it with a loud slam. As soon as the door shut, Freddie turned to me.
"We're alone now…What do you wanna do?" he questioned suggestively.
"Eat," I replied.
"Of course," he sighed as I got up and headed to the kitchen. I searched the cupboard until I found gold.
"Holy chiz! Meatball Crunch!" I exclaimed.
"That weird new cereal?" Freddie asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust.
"Weird? Are you kidding? This is my dream!" I gushed, tearing open the box and stuffing a handful into my mouth.
"I'm not gonna kiss you after you've eaten that stuff," he informed me.
"Do I look like I care?" I inquired with my mouth full. He rolled his eyes.
"I'm coming to the living room now!" Spencer shouted from his room, "So you might wanna stop doing anything inappropriate!" I saw him making his way down the stairs with his hand over his eyes. This time, he had scorched pants on, his shirt was torn, and there was a chunk of bread in his hair.
"Don't worry, Spence," Freddie assured him, "Sam's in the kitchen,"
"Oh," Spencer uncovered his eyes and moved faster. When he saw me, he shouted in a childish voice, "Hey! That's mine!"
"It's okay! I'll save some for you!" I promised.
"No you won't! Give me that!" he snatched the box away from me, "I need it for my next sculpture!"
"What are you sculpturing?" Freddie asked.
"A tadpole!" Spencer told him excitedly.
"...Why?" I questioned.
"Why not? Is there something wrong with tadpoles?" Spencer inquired, offended.
"Well no, but…" I started.
"Shut up and let me be artful!" he interrupted.
"…Okay…"
"Who wants to play a game?" Spencer queried.
"Sure. I'll play something," Freddie shrugged.
"Sounds good," I agreed, "What game?" Freddie and Spencer looked at each other, smiled, and nodded, "…Why are you guys doing that?"
"What Am I?" they shouted together.
"Oh no. Not that game that you guys spent all night playing that one time!" I warned.
"Oh, come on Sam! It's fun! We'll teach you how to play!" Freddie offered.
"No! You guys are gonna become obsessed again," I dissented.
"Let us play our game!" Spencer whined.
"No! Quit acting like a child!"I scolded. Spencer gasped and then hung his head. Freddie gave me a sad look before smirking. Then suddenly, he ran to the couch, screaming. He flopped onto it and thrashed around wildly.
"Are you kidding me? Freddie Benson throwing a tantrum?" I asked, bewildered. I stared as he continued with his fit, "Okay, it's not funny anymore. You can stop," He simply kept going, "I'm not gonna give in,"
"In five, four, four, three, two…" Spencer began the countdown.
"Ugh! Fine! Let's just get this over with!" I groaned.
"Yes! I'll get the Pirate Crisp!" Freddie shouted, finishing with his episode and running to the cupboard. Spencer ran upstairs to get the game, "Sam, you're gonna love this game," he promised.
"Yeah, just like my mom said I was gonna love trombone lessons," I muttered.
"Come on, Sam. Just try to have fun, okay?" Freddie solicited, looking at me pleadingly with his best puppy dog face.
"That face doesn't work on me, Benson," I shot him down.
"Oh really? Well how about," he cleared his throat, "the vampire voice?" he tried.
"Nope," I lied. I would never admit it, but that voice actually was pretty hot. I didn't understand why. I hated all those vampire movies and books, but I guess the voice was an exception.
"Then do I need to throw another fit?" he threatened.
"No! Please no! I'll try my best to have fun. Just no more screaming. You gave me a headache the first time!" I pleaded.
"Good choice," Freddie smirked. Spencer then galloped down the stairs, game in hand.
"Let's play!" he shouted happily. We all walked to the kitchen table, put on stupid-looking headbands, and grabbed cards for our foreheads.
"Alright, Spence. You can ask first," Freddie allowed. Spencer's card read "dolphin".
"Okay…am I a type of food?"
"No," Freddie replied.
"Yes," I retorted.
"That's not food!" Freddie argued.
"Maybe not to you, but in Malaysia there was a restaurant and that was on the menu!" I shot back.
"Well it's not a common food in America" Freddie disagreed.
"He didn't ask if it was a common American food. He asked if it was food. And I think if something is edible and digestible, it's food. So Spencer, the answer is yes," I explained, "Freddie, your turn," The word, "lawnmower" was on his card.
"Fine," he grumbled, "Am I…a type of person?"
"No," Spencer and I said in unison.
"Okay, my turn to ask," I commented, "Am I…a raspberry?"
"Yes!" Spencer exclaimed.
"What? How did you do that?" Freddie questioned incredulously, "It took us hours to guess what we were last time and you get it on the first try?"
"Mama's got skills," I shrugged. They continued to play the game until the end, which took about a half hour, while I munched on a mix of Meatball Crunch and Pirate Crisp. Then we started another game. We all grabbed cards again.
"Sam, since you were the winner, you go first this time," Freddie offered.
"Okay, am I a boomerang?" I inquired.
"Yes!" Spencer exclaimed again.
"…What? Okay, first time was beginner's luck. Now you're just cheating!" Freddie accused me.
"Am not! I am a lot of things, but I'm not a cheater!" I protested, glaring at him. I really hated it when he assumed that I did bad things.
"Says the girl who copied Carly's answers for a math test, got a sixth grader to run laps for her in gym, and stuffed the ballot box for prom king so that Mr. Buttburn would win," he eyed me suspiciously. For some reason, that really hurt.
"Haha…Buttburn," I laughed, "…But I didn't cheat! Why would I cheat at a stupid game like this?" Freddie and Spencer gasped.
"You will not use such words to describe this sacred activity!" Spencer scolded.
"Would you rather I called it jank?" I retorted.
"Leave this house!" Spencer's voice boomed. I stared at him, shocked, "I'm only kidding, Sam," he reassured me. But I walked toward the door and out of the apartment anyway, fuming. I sat down against the wall outside and ripped the headband from my head. That game was so dumb, so I didn't know why I was so angry about it. The door opened again a few seconds later and Freddie walked through it.
"Why did you leave?" Freddie asked, concerned. He sat down next to me and started playing with my hair. It was really sweet when he did that, but I would never tell him.
"You don't trust me," I mumbled, refusing to look into his eyes.
"Yes I do!" he objected, "Of course I do!"
"No you don't. If you trusted me, you wouldn't accuse me of cheating. You think I'm a bad person. Not that I blame you. I haven't given any evidence to prove you otherwise," I muttered.
"That's not true!" he protested, but he could tell I didn't believe him. I looked up, "Okay, I will admit, I know you're prone to pulling pranks and tricking people. And you're not really open to trying new things. But that does not make you a bad person. And I do trust you. And I'm sorry I made you play that game and accused you of cheating. And threw a temper tantrum," I laughed, "That wasn't cool," he explained.
"Hey, I'm sorry, too. I could have been a bit more cooperative and stuff," I replied.
"Do you wanna tell Spencer to hang out with someone his own age and go do something alone? We could go to that scary movie you wanted to see," Freddie suggested.
"Nah, I think I'd rather kick your butt in the stupid game," I smirked.
"Okay, but the winner has to kiss me," he notified me.
"I thought you weren't gonna kiss me after I ate that cereal," I reminded him.
"I was actually hoping that Spencer would win," he joked and I shoved him, "But really, if you can put up with the game, I can put up with meatball cereal mouth,"
"Good, 'cause you're probably gonna need to put up with it every morning for the next week. I'm gonna buy a box of my own," I told him.
"With your appetite, I doubt one box would even last a day," he remarked.
"True," I laughed, "Now come on. I bet Spencer's dying to play," And sure enough, when we walked in, he was on the ground, moaning with bits of cereal scattered around him.
"Spencer! What happened?" Freddie shouted, concerned. Spencer continued writhing on the floor. He didn't look hurt, so I assumed it was just him being his weird self.
"We really need to stop leaving him unattended," I commented.
Author's Note: Okay, maybe you liked that. Like I've said before, I need to get back into writing. I think I've retrogressed (vocab words FTW) in progress. But soon I'll be better than ever…I hope. Anyway, review if you wish to. And have a nice President's Day, you Americans! :D
