This was a submission for the nick_girlslash livejournal community fan project back in like aideekay, summer of 2009.
Title: Delirious
Fandom: iCarly; Carly/Sam
Rating: PG-13
Words: ~2000
Note: The story was written with the song My Delirium by Ladyhawke. The song is on my livejournal for perusal, as are the lyrics (and this whole story). http:/arkeis07,livejournal,com/18582,html (replace the commas with periods).
Late night, waiting by the phone / Tonight, waiting for an answer
You feel like pulling out your hair. Pulling it out, shoving it in your mouth, screaming as loud as you can around the curls, then eating them. Choke to death. At least it would get something done. You'd be doing something productive at 3 in morning.
At least you'd be doing something other than staring at the intermittently brightly lit screen of your cell phone in the darkness of your dorm room, your roommate breathing lightly in the corner.
You both decided that separate schools were best. She's got a plan, wants to go somewhere. You… you just want to follow her wherever, but since you have neither the money nor attention span to attend her fancy private college, on the east coast, the EAST COAST, you're in Seattle still.
You regret ever agreeing to go to college in the first place. You're sure you would have no trouble finding work as a thug or bouncer or bodyguard for rich nerds. Or your dream job: mafia boss. But Carly says she believes in you, that you have so much more potential in you than you like to admit. You like to think that you could potentially be a mental patient. Without Carly, that is.
It sucks that you are this dependent on her. Waiting desperately for the call she forgot to dial earlier. You know you can't call her. This conversation is important – it has to start with her. With the feelings you have promised yourself you would reveal tonight, you know you can't give in and call her first. It's just a rule. That you made up. And you never, ever, break your own rules.
The screen finally lights up, a light vibration felt through your palm. You stare at it for two rings, waiting. It's weird that you would need to pretend that you haven't been waiting up until 3 in the morning to hear her voice, but whatever. It's another rule.
It's just more of the bubble talk, the lame jokes and the tired retellings of the past few days, the apologies for not calling everyday. You're about to hit the wall in anger when her sigh reaches your ears and clamps at your heart.
"I miss you…everyday… it's just not the same anymore. It was new and exciting at first, this place and the new people and the way life is different here. It was distracting, to say the least. But now… I find myself daydreaming that I'm back home with you. I'm homesick for you."
This is what you've been waiting for. You're thankful she's the one to turn the talk serious. You've tried the whole, 'then come home already,' spiel a million times, and its never worked, her vision for the future is strong. So you try a different tactic, this one more desperate but still heartfelt.
"I'm coming to see you, so I hope you don't sleep in a twin size bed. I refuse to sleep on a couch, Shay. Not after all this pining and whatnot for you."
"Oh my gosh, Sam, are you serious?" You can see her shooting straight up from whatever position she might be in. The glimmer of mischievousness and humor is gleaming in the vision of her in your mind's eye, and you are reminded of crazy antics in the studio.
"Yes, in two weeks. I don't know how long I'm staying either, so again… you better invest in a large bed."
"Don't worry, there's always been room for you in my bed."
And there it is. That weird feeling that smolders in your chest. You're kinda used to it at this point, but it's when Carly says things like that… she must know… what the other meaning… implies? She's never been the type to joke about bedroom affairs… It's all so confusing, another reason why you find yourself unable to sleep for a while after these phone calls.
"Good," is all you can offer.
"Good," is all she returns.
She makes you go to bed soon after. Your mind wanders with possibilities of what could occur by the next fortnight. It's been too long; you need to get back in control of this spiral. And it's only after you hang up do you realize; you still didn't tell her. Ugh.
~~~\
The next two weeks of your life don't even matter. You might as well have been dead for them, you have no idea what happened, nor do you even care to find out.
Your brain only starts to kick back in when you see her waiting outside the terminal. In fact, it kicks into overdrive, memorizing every scent, every color, every touch as she rushes to you and pulls you tight into her arms.
The first place she takes you is a small coffee shop on the edge of campus. You are surrounded by smartly dressed people with sweaters and laptops and thick books of literature, and you resist the urge to cry "ZOMBIES!" at them while chucking a shoe. Seems like just by being near Carly is having a positive effect on you.
But once you get your bitter concoction and sit down across from her, in her cute top and plaid skirt and silky hair just like you dreamed, things get awkward. Unbelievably awkward, and since when have you never been able to find something to talk about? Why can't you find something funny to say? You've missed her laugh so much.
But she isn't your best friend forever for nothing. She notices quickly how uncomfortable you are and sets down her cup, placing her hand over your fidgeting one.
"Hey… I think we can both agree that this isn't us. Let's ditch this boring collegiate monotony and go grab a smoothie. Like old times, okay?" Carly's voice is pleasantly hopeful. You smile.
"All right. That sounds more like the Shay, comma Carly I enjoy. Lead the way." You stand up quickly, "Oh, and by the way, The Groovy Smoothie back home got shut down. Been exactly 4 months and 17 days since I had my last Blueberry Butt-Kick."
"Really? Shut down? Why?"
"Some health code violation or something I don't know. Shame really,"
"Huh, I would have expected that from Chili My Bowl or –"
"- Or Meat My Stick? Yea, both those are still operating like the cows are coming in daily… which they aren't… the meat's at least 2 weeks old."
"Eww."
"Yeah, I know. Such a waste."
You grab smoothies from another local establishment, and you poke fun at Carly for becoming a greenie who eats organic honey and shops for locally sustainable lettuce. She smacks you on the arm but raises her head high and rattles off the statistics for how much she is saving the earth, in terms of paper products or cell phone minutes or something, and things finally begin to feel familiar by the time you are ushered into her flat. It's a house, but is rented out to students during the semester. The only thing you care about is that Carly gets her own room, and you are tickled inside your chest to find the room littered with pictures of you and her and Freddie, young and crazy. You feel guilty that you shoved all your pictures away about a month after she left, like some vengeful ex. It began to hurt every time your eyes grazed her pretty face. They taunted you, really, shouting at you to get a backbone and fess up. You showed them who's the boss of you.
Overall, you don't like this Northeastern town, with its small population and pretty, brightly colored foliage and local markets where people say hello to everyone and the houses are made of wood with yards and doghouses. You like Seattle; cold, gray, urban Seattle, where the only bright colors are in the outfits Carly wears and the way her hair shines in the summer sun and the chocolate/honey brown of her eyes.
But, you will go wherever Carly goes. You know that much. Because without Carly, cold and gray and urban Seattle isn't home. You smile as you realize that Carly is your home, always much more welcoming and cozy than the small dingy apartment you shared with your mother growing up. With Carly by your side, you can focus, you can see clearly. You're in control.
It takes a few more nights of close body heat and murmured, "goodnight, love you"s before you can finally, really, act like yourself. But you're still tense – you still have a mission to accomplish.
She makes a new batch of red punch from the store bought packets and gives you a glass. You sit down on the couch and Carly instinctually turns on the television for you, then lays back and pats your leg while sipping her drink. It feels so coupley it's almost sickening.
Five minutes pass.
Suddenly you flick the off button and turn to face her on the couch.
"I need to say this because it's killing me and I know how much you hate it when I hurt myself so here:" you pause for dramatic effect – or rather, to catch your breath, because it has just ran away with your heart, out of your mouth.
"I can't eat, can't sleep. Can't even break things. Everything feels weird and crazy and stupid and without you with me I just don't feel like I'm here…you know what I mean?"
You don't give her time to respond, just keep going.
"I've waited too long to say this, and I'm sorry, because I think I might have messed it up, but I just needed to say it. I'm only Sam when I'm with Carly. That's it. I like being Sam, it's one of the few things I'm good at, like causing overall mayhem and telling when meat has gone bad, so please… just let Sam be with Carly."
You're looking down at the couch, ashamed as all hell to be so weak in front of the girl whose seen you debilitate lockers and wrestle a whole water fountain from its secured position on the floor.
She laughs lightly, and it's the kind of laugh you like, so you look up and she says, "Carly likes Sam too. Carly loves Sam, and Carly can't think of better way to live then with Sam by her side. Carly also thinks it's silly that Sam thought she could hide her feelings."
Her hand is rubbing your shoulder and you feel the blush darken your cheeks.
"But, so wait… you knew?
"It's not that hard to pick up on when you want something, Sam.
"Yeah, but… hey, I don't … this means all this time…"
"Sam you're as stubborn and as bad at communication as you've always been. You don't have to fight anymore."
She cups your cheek in a familiar way, but the look in her eyes is different. It's a mirror of your heart. You can see that pain that hurts more than just missing somebody, see that excitement that happens when you touch, see that nervousness. You don't know what to call it, but it's powerful.
And you know it's ok to lean in quickly and press your lips to hers, in a way that is more than friendly, finally, more fulfilling. Your heart rises in your throat and you feel your tense muscles relax. This is where you belong. Here, you aren't some crazed violent girl. Here, you're Carly Shay's other half. As it always was and always will be.
Carly moves to pull away after a few moments, but you don't let her, and instead lean over her and pin her to the couch. You wrap your arms around her waist tightly and don't stop moving your lips slowly over hers, your tongue exploring this playground it's always wanted to experience. Eventually, Carly maneuvers out of your lip-lock and kisses your forehead sweetly.
"You're as stubborn as always, Puckett."
"I don't think that'll ever change, Shay. It comes with the territory."
"I kinda don't want it to."
"Good."
"Good."
~Fin~
Thanks for reading.