Summary: Spam. Sam keeps dropping hints. Spencer decides it's OK to pursue her as long as she's the one making the first move.

A/N: Senior year. Sam is 18. Spencer will turn 31 in November.

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly.

***

Playing Games

And I would be the one
To hold you down,
Kiss you so hard
I'll take your breath away.
And after, I'd wipe away the tears.
Just close your eyes, dear.

Sarah McLachlan, "Possession"

At first, it was little things. She wandered downstairs wrapped in a towel because she'd forgotten to take her clothes up to Carly's room the night before. She let her knee lightly graze his as she sat down on the couch. She held his gaze a little too long. Spencer took comfort from the fact that sharp-eyed Carly hadn't said anything, until he realized that Sam never did these things when Carly was in the room.

Just when he'd convinced himself it was nothing, she started dropping by the apartment when she knew Carly wouldn't be home. She'd shrug and say, "I'll wait," and then lounge on the couch listening to her PearPod while the silence got so loud that Spencer couldn't think. More than one a sculpture of a whale or tortoise or guitar turned into the figure of young woman under his absent-minded hands.

It was when she started touching him that he got desperate to make it stop. It was when she started touching him that he got desperate to make it happen.

One afternoon Carly was studying and Sam had come downstairs for a snack. Spencer stood in front of a simmering pot of gumbo. He was blowing on a spoonful, ready to taste, when she grabbed his wrist and pulled the spoon to her mouth. Long after she'd walked away, he could still feel the pressure of her fingers on his wrist. The next Saturday morning he was watching TV when she sat down far too close to him on the otherwise empty couch. As he edged away from her, she said, "You should get a tattoo." She idly traced a design on his forearm, and every hair on his body stood on end. A week later she walked over to inspect the sculpture he was working on and casually slid an arm around his waist. She chattered about color and shape, while he froze like a rabbit startled by the shadow of a large bird.

He told himself that next time he would just walk away. He told himself that she was eighteen, and no matter how messy this got, it was legal. He told himself that she wanted something from him, and even if she didn't want it, she was asking for it. Because he was a decent guy, he made himself unavailable. He ran his errands on the weekend; he went to the gym in the afternoon; he made sure to get home after Carly did.

***

Spencer pulled on sweats and a T-shirt. He ran his fingers through his damp hair and located a missing sneaker under his bed. He headed to the kitchen for a late breakfast and found Sam sprawled across the living room couch. Her eyes were closed and she was humming softly along with her PearPod. As quietly as he could, he padded over to the couch. He lifted her feet, sat down and placed her feet on his lap. Her eyes opened and she yanked the earbuds out of her ears. A devilish grin spread across her face.

"Hey, Sam," said Spencer. "Isn't this a school day?"

She rolled her eyes and said, "Do not get all parental on me, Spencer Shay. I get enough of that from Carly."

"So what are you doing here?" he asked.

"I think you know," she said, moving one of her bare feet languidly up and down his thigh. His first impulse was to jump up and offer her chocolate chip pancakes, but he reminded himself just how much sleep he'd lost wondering what she'd do next. Her toes were now dangerously close to his crotch. He picked up her foot and started to massage the sole with his thumbs. She tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but soon relaxed and groaned, "That feels so good." He kept it up until she looked so blissfully sleepy that he thought it was safe to let go. "Do the other one," she demanded, wiggling her toes and thrusting her foot in the air. He kneaded her foot gently. A look of contentment spread over her face. Experimentally, he ran a hand lightly up her bare lower leg. Her skin was soft and warm to the touch. Impulsively, he popped her big toe into his mouth. Her eyes flew open in surprise. "Spencer, you weirdo!" He immediately dropped her foot.

Seeing the embarrassment on his face, she got up and climbed onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Don't be sad," she said with her mouth so close to his ear that he could feel her breath. "I like weird." She planted a row of light kisses along his jawbone and then pressed her lips softly against his. He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed back. His other hand lazily stroked her long, wavy hair. His body was reacting, and given where she was sitting, she couldn't help but notice. He felt her tongue run lightly across his lower lip and a shiver ran through him. He parted his lips and felt her tongue darting into his mouth. He started exploring her mouth with his tongue and realized that it tasted like ham, which was so perfectly Sam that he wanted to laugh. Eventually, he felt her drawing back. He lightly nipped her lower lip with his teeth before breaking the kiss.

She leaned back slightly, searching his face with her eyes. She looked so serious that he wondered if she was having second thoughts. He stroked her cheek and said, "What are you thinking, Sam?"

"I think you want this as much as I do." Her eyes darted to his lap. "So, why am I the one making all the first moves?" A slight blush rose on her face.

Spencer let out a deep breath. "There are a lot of good reasons that adult men shouldn't date teenage girls. Even though you've been driving me crazy for the last couple months, I want to be sure you mean it. Besides, it's kind of sexy."

"What is?" asked Sam, confused.

"Taking things slow," said Spencer, smiling at her.

"So you don't want to…?" she faltered.

"I want to strip off all your clothes, throw you down on the rug and—" He caught himself.

Her eyes widened, and her body stiffened slightly. Great job, Spencer, he thought. He gently pulled her head down against his shoulder, wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair. "Hey, tough girl," he said softly, "we don't have to do all that today. I can wait." He felt her body relax again. After a few minutes, he asked, "Are you hungry? I can make some sandwiches."

Sam lifted her head and grinned. "Do you have any ham?"

***

After lunch, he told Sam to give him five minutes. He had changed the sheets on his bed and gathered up most of his laundry before he glanced up and saw Sam slouching against the doorframe. Ignoring her for a minute, he checked the drawer of his nightstand. Good. There was still a handful of condoms left. He was certain wouldn't need them today, but he wanted to have them in case he was wrong.

"I thought you weren't rushing me," said Sam, her voice slightly mocking.

"I'm not," he said. "I always clean my room on the second Tuesday of the month." Sam didn't budge from the doorway. Damn it, he thought, I've scared her again, but she'll never admit it. He asked in an overly cheerful voice, "Hey, kiddo, you want to help me with my new sculpture this afternoon? It's a goat with a trash compacter inside. Because goats eat everything, and I thought it would be really cool to have a sculpture people could feed."

Sam said, "Sure," with such obvious disappointment that Spencer sat down on the edge of the bed to think. "OK," he said after a moment. "Here's Plan B. You pick out a movie. I'm going to go make us root beer floats."

He was back in a few minutes. He handed Sam a mug, and she took a sip from her straw. "Uh, Spencer, what is this? It's definitely not root beer."

"We were out of vanilla," explained Spencer. "It's cream soda and rocky road. Is that too gross?"

"Nah, I'll eat anything." She grinned. "Next time, warn me first."

They settled down on the couch in Spencer's room to watch Shrek. Spencer put his arm around Sam and she snuggled up against his chest. He noticed the stack of movies on top of the TV—Toy Story, Lilo and Stitch, Monsters Inc. We're done being grownups for today, he thought. That's all right.

***

They settled into a routine. She helped with the occasional sculpture, ate more food than Carly and Spencer combined, and slept in Carly's room. She still spent most of her time with Carly and Freddie when they were around. They'd shot the Extravaganza iCarly Final Webcast just before school started, but sometimes they hung out in the old studio, joking and watching movies. Carly and Freddie were both too preoccupied with college applications and AP courses and extracurriculars to notice how much time Sam spent "alone" at the Shay's apartment.

When Spencer and Sam were alone, they kissed—long wrestling matches on the couch that left Spencer wanting more. To distract himself, he tried to teach Sam to cook. For the most part, it was a disaster, but she found that she loved baking fresh bread. She kneaded the dough with a violence that produced crusty loaves with soft, steaming centers, although more than one loaf was burnt beyond saving because neither of them remembered to set the oven timer.

One night, Spencer confided to Sam how much he missed the silly things he and Carly used to do together—blowing giant bubbles or sliding across the hardware floors in their stocking feet. Sam started bringing home presents—paddleballs and kazoos and two pairs of stilts that they staggered crazily around on for a couple of weeks, until Carly insisted that they stop before Spencer knocked anything else off the shelves.

One afternoon Spencer found his old Twister game, and they happily tangled themselves up with each other, collapsing in a giggling heap just as Carly walked in the door. She stared at them suspiciously, then recognized the game and said, "OK, children, Mommy's home. Put away your toys. It's time for dinner."

***

In early November, Mrs. Benson offered to take Carly and Freddie to tour several nearby colleges. It was a bit late, since their applications had already been mailed out, but Mrs. Benson was still trying to persuade Freddie that the choices close to home were better than anything he could find on the East Coast. Freddie, who couldn't take one more solo mother-and-son outing, persuaded Carly to come along.

Sam came back up from the lobby after she had said goodbye and waited an extra five minutes to make sure they were really gone. "Hey, Spence, you still waiting for me to make the next move?" she asked flirtatiously.

Spencer waggled his eyebrows at Sam. "'Yes,' says the dirty old man to the beautiful young girl."

"Says the guy who's been taking cold showers for the last two months," said Sam wryly. "I'm not stupid, Spencer. I—This is a big deal for me."

"You've never…?" asked Spencer, suddenly curious.

Sam rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Duh. How long have you known me? Every guy who might have tried was too afraid I'd punch his face in."

Spencer sighed. "I don't want to pressure you into anything you're not ready for."

Sam slumped on the couch and scowled. After she thought for a bit, her face lit up. "Close your eyes." She took Spencer by the hand and led him into the bedroom. "OK," she said as she sat on the bed. "We're going to play Mother-May-I."

Spencer snorted with laughter.

Sam looked annoyed. "I thought it was a good idea."

"It is." Still trying to stifle a giggle, he asked, "May I sit down next to you?"

Sam nodded and soon they were lying side by side, kissing urgently. Spencer slid one hand under her shirt and slowly up her back until his hand was resting on her bra. "May I?" he whispered in her ear. "Yes," she whispered back and he undid the hooks. She propped herself up on one elbow and in a few swift movements pulled the bra out from under her shirt. She tossed it on the floor. He cupped a breast in the palm of his hand and began tracing lazy circles around her nipple with his thumb. Her breath quickened. Wanting to see her body, he started to slide her shirt up over—

"Hey," she gasped. "You didn't say 'Mother, may I.'"

Startled, almost angry, he groaned, "You want to stop now?"

"No," she said a little too loudly. "But you get a penalty. Take off your shirt."

He pulled his shirt off. Grinning, he asked, "May I?" and gently tugged her shirt up and over her head. He rolled her onto her back and straddled her. She started to say something but he stopped her mouth with a kiss.

***

At some point they ordered pizza. When the doorbell rang, Spencer answered the door wearing a pair of hastily pulled on sweatpants. The deliveryman smirked, and the pizza was cold by the time they finally ate it.