Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly, Superman, or Hermione from Harry Potter.
Okay, this is what happens when spicedcheese watches an iCarly marathon with her little sister. Spam and Creddie to an extreme. Yay. This will be a four-shot. Btw, I may have the age difference between Spencer and Sam totally wrong…so, uh, if I do, let me know and I'll fix it. Thanks.
And, uh, I'm sure they're both super OOC, but I'd like to think it's because this fic takes place two years after the show (and possibly because this is sort of…mature). So…yeah, sorry about that.
BTWs. Spencer=SUPER HOT.
Warnings: References to sex, underage drinking, masturbation and birth control.
-Begin-
It's an accident.
He's tired, he's just spent four hours covering a giant globe with glue and feathers and equally colorful marbles and he thinks he'll never be able to unstick his left pinkie and ring fingers. He stumbles blindly into his room, to his bathroom, opens the door, and remembers abruptly that he had removed his shower head the previous night because he had decided that he needed a newer one with better spraying power.
Spencer hates his impulses and grumbles as he turns and makes his way up the stairs to Carly's bathroom. She and Freddie are out at some random, couple-y place and he figures he'll have plenty of time to fully remove the excess glue from his fingers, his right elbow, and his hair before she gets home and kicks him out. He finds the door closed, but thinks nothing of it as Carly has been getting more private since that awkward day when she asked him to pick up her prescription at CVS and he, out of concerned, brotherly instinct, peeked and found birth control.
He twists the knob, pushes it open, and suddenly there's Sam Puckett, his sixteen year old sister's sixteen year old best friend, standing there in a bra and a very small pair of panties and Spencer's spinning and shouting, "SORRY!" and the image is burned into his eyelids.
--
Sam thinks that maybe Spencer's avoiding her.
The first time he sees her after seeing her he is walking into the kitchen and she and Carly and Freddie are sitting there, talking. His eyes slip from his sister to her boyfriend and finally to her and, after staring a fraction of a second and gripping his glass of iced tea so tightly his knuckles are white and it's a good thing he's not stronger, or he'd break that glass, he turns and leaves without saying a word.
"Wonder what that was about?" Freddie asks softly, as Spencer stops in the TV room and stands facing the door for at least a half a minute before he sits and turns on the television and stares at it in a way that suggests he's not really watching it. Carly shrugs and takes a pretzel out of his mouth and Sam almost gags on her pizza rolls; the relationship is six months old but she can't get used to seeing them like that.
"Who knows, it's Spencer."
Sam thinks she knows and she can't decide if it's a good or bad thing.
--
Spencer decides that he can't be around her. At least, not until he can close his eyes and not see her as a centerfold.
--
She's had a crush on him for two years, since that first time she saw him in his beloved tux, the one that got him that date with the cashier girl. At first, she thought it was just that she had just realized he was cute or something, which was completely understandable as he was good looking and older and always around, doing funny, albeit strange things and he could be charming. But time progressed, she remembered she'd always thought he was cute and she saw him with girls, and it was like her stomach was boiling. It was all she could do not to jump on the women and rip their hair off their pretty heads.
She thinks maybe its unhealthy, lusting after her best friend's big brother the way she does. Especially since it's kind of obvious he sees her in the same light as Carly. To him she's Sam: little sister and not Sam: woman.
It kind of makes her sick.
--
One night-two weeks after he saw her, not that he's counting-she and Carly are having a sleepover and he walks into the kitchen in time to see her bend over, rummaging through the refrigerator and her camisole rides up on her lower back, exposing a bit of smooth skin, and it stops him in his tracks. She lets out a triumphant, "Ha!" and straightens and turns, holding whatever it was she had been looking for. The first thing he sees is that she's not wearing a bra and it's like his stomach has suddenly decided to take up residence in his throat and the can of soda he's holding slips from his grasp.
Sam stares at him as his drink explodes at his feet, holding a jar of pickles and looking a mix of stunned and something he can't quite place and he has a flashback of the day she stayed behind when Freddie and Carly ran upstairs for one of their iCarly meetings to drink the remains of a jar of pickle juice. He remembers how vaguely revolted he had felt at the time and there's suddenly a horrible sort of heat between his legs.
"Spencer," she says softly and he turns and bolts.
--
Sam sits down on the kitchen floor with her jar of pickles, stares at the soda that's seeping across the floor, and tries not to cry.
--
Spencer sits on his bed, his head in his hands, disgusted with himself.
Wanking off to thoughts of one's little sister's best friend-who is, incidentally, twelve years younger than him-is just plain wrong.
He makes a vow: he'll never do it again.
And he won't look at her either, if that's what it takes.
--
Sam walks in on Freddie and Carly having sex in the iCarly studio one evening and stalks out seconds later, only after Carly shrieks, "SAM!" in horror, shocking her out of her momentary state of paralysis, and tries and fails to banish the image of her two best friends like that from her mind. She goes downstairs and finds Spencer lying on his back on the floor of the TV room with his upper body in a large cardboard box and a bowl of marshmallows on his lap.
She's furious with Carly and Freddie, but mostly just with him, so she snarls, "Your little sister and her boyfriend are getting messy upstairs, some big brother you are!" before tripping in her haste to get the fuck out of that apartment and slamming the door behind her.
--
Spencer doesn't do anything about Carly and Freddie.
The first time he had sex he was fifteen after all, and it was on his parents' bed with a slutty classmate from his art class named Belinda. And he hadn't loved her the way he knows Freddie loves his sister; he hadn't even liked her. Besides, that's what Carly's birth control is for, isn't it? Sex with her boyfriend?
He's starting to think Sam hates him now.
The idea kind of makes him want to punch something, but he knows it's a good thing so he makes no effort to fix it.
--
Carly throws this Halloween party in her apartment and Sam, who is still super pissed at all of them, only goes because she knows there'll be booze (Spencer is kind of a progressive legal guardian) and god knows she needs it. She puts on a long black wig and calls herself the bride of Dracula and punches Gibby when he calls her out on not making an effort to celebrate All Hallow's Eve or whatever. She grabs the first can of beer she sees, drains it, and wanders around, trying to feel like she belongs there.
She sees Freddie and Carly making out on the kitchen counter, he's got a hand up her skimpy skirt (Sam thinks she's trying to be Hermione from Harry Potter, but she's sure Hermione isn't as slutty) and he's got this stupid Superman costume on (God, they were supposed to be a couple, why didn't they coordinate or something?) and they're getting really into it. Sam doesn't know why she gets so angry, it's not like she's got feelings for Freddie or anything stupid like that, but she just feels so jealous and lets it out by upending a punch bowl over their heads. Carly shrieks and Freddie has to rip off his sopping cape because it's strangling him (it could be because Sam's stepping on the bottom of it, but she doesn't care) and they shout at her in unison.
She's deaf to their words though and, knowing full well that people are staring, she grabs a nearby bottle of vodka, takes at least four shots worth in one long guzzle, and stalks away from Carly's cry of, "What is your problem?"
Then she sees the light from under Spencer's door and it's like everything falls into place.
--
The party's in full swing outside the door and Spencer sits in his room with his headphones on, blasting Nirvana and trying not to think. The worst part is knowing she's out there, probably dressed in a similar fashion to his no-longer-little sister and he can't help imagining it, despite his mantra that he won't go there again.
He thinks he hears shouting, but it's hard to distinguish the noise from the party from Kurt Cobain so he just sits and stares at his wall and breathes.
Then the door swings open, slams shut, and suddenly he's looking at Sam, wearing jeans, a rumpled t shirt, and a long, tangled black wig. For a second he thinks he's in the clear and can pretend he wants to go to bed or something to get her out of his bedroom, but then she stumbles forward and he gets a good look at her face.
She's drunk and his stomach his playing leap frog up to his throat again.
"Spencer," she says in a horribly sexy, husky voice and she's crawling onto his bed in a way that really shouldn't be legal. He leans back against the headboard, feeling more trapped than he has in his entire life.
"Sam," he replies, trying not to sound like a frightened child and he hopes he succeeds, because he needs to be the adult here.
"You hate me," Sam's hand is on his leg now, his left calf, and it's starting to slide up. Spencer swallows hard.
"No."
"Then why don't you talk to me, look at me anymore?" she demands, the slight slur that takes her words diminishing the full anger of the question.
She's touching his thigh and Spencer's breath is coming in sharp spurts and he has to stop this NOW. His hands lift and press against her shoulders; he had intended to push her backwards, to get her away, but now his arms aren't working and he's just touching her.
His mind is screaming at him this is wrong! But the heat between his legs begs to differ.
"Because I can't," he replies and she glares.
"I'm not a kid anymore," and Sam's right, she's not. She's been able to function as an adult for years now, she's finally starting to look the part, and Spencer doesn't know which is worse: the fact that she knows it or that he does.
She kisses him because she's bold like that. Spencer pushes her, trying to get her off for a fraction of a second before the taste of liquor on her mouth clouds his judgment. He hadn't noticed that she'd brought a bottle of vodka in with her but, if they're going to do this, and he gets the feeling that there's no going back now because she's in his room and offering him the liquid courage with lidded eyes, he's glad she did, because he's going to need it. He takes a long drag, so does she, and they're kissing again and he's pulling off the black wig and tugging the scrunchie out of her hair so he can properly run his fingers through it. It's all teeth and saliva and tongues and this is so wrong, so goddamn wrong.
Sam puts her hands up his shirt and he needs to take another sip of vodka. He's getting buzzed, but he's not drunk, and this has gone too far already and he honestly doesn't have the strength to stop it.
He doesn't even protest when she starts in on his belt.
They don't take off their shirts (he's not sure and his brain's fogging now, but he thinks it's a security thing) but Sam takes off his pants and his boxers and hers are soon to follow. She straddles his legs and Spencer has to look at the ceiling, close his eyes, because this is too real.
The worst part? It's better than his dreams.
--
When it's over, Spencer collapses beneath her and covers his face with his hands.
"What have I done?" he chokes behind them and Sam feels a stab of guilt because she kind of forced him into this. She rolls off of him and then looks down at his thighs and her breath catches in her throat because she'd forgotten something Carly mentioned to her about this and she really should have thought ahead. He glances at her, then follows her gaze, and she watches as his eyes widen at the sight of the blood. Then he lifts his head and he just stares at her, horror and guilt and something that looks remarkably similar to rage spattered across his face like the mess she's left on him and she feels like she's going to throw up.
Spencer knows.
--
She was a virgin fifteen minutes ago.
She's sixteen years old.
Spencer, you sick bastard.
He doesn't know why he's so angry; he could have and should have stopped it, but she's looking at him now and there's this guilt on her face (Sam's beautiful, he realizes, more beautiful now than ever before) that he just can't stomach. He gets off the bed and stalks to the window and stares out at the Seattle skyline in the night. It doesn't occur to him to put on pants, he's just so focused on what happened and he just wants to throw himself through the glass he's staring at or something equally self destructive.
"Spencer," there's a tiny sob in her voice.
He doesn't want to look at her; he just wants her to leave.
Five minutes later the door slams shut again.
--
A/N: Eh. It got pretty angsty there towards the end. Hm. Well, please review. Thank you!