I wrote this fic in January, and posted it to LJ. At that point I was quite inactive here, so I never thought to post it. But seeing as I'm posting most of my fic here at the moment, here's a Carly/Freddie fight fic! Have fun. C:
again, please review as well as favourite! C:
It starts with quiet words and shuffling feet. Carly wants to go somewhere, Freddie thinks it's too dangerous (it's a senior's party, and he's just looking out for her) and she mumbles something about taking care of herself before going to get a glass of water from the kitchen.
Spencer arrives home just as Freddie leaves. He notices that Freddie's greeting smile is too wobbly, his eyes are too bright and his usual confident posture is gone.
Carly's sipping her water, her hands shaking and her knuckles white from the tight grip on the counter. Sam stares at her until Carly finishes her water and dumps the glass next to the sink.
"Carly?" Spencer asks softly. "Carls, you okay?"
"I'm fine," she replies, too quickly. "I'm fine."
Marissa Benson knows her son well enough to pick up on things.
She knows that once he snuck over to Carly's with cocoa powder and marshmallows.
She knows that he still plays with his Galaxy Wars action figures and whenever she cleans his room she takes care to keep them in their best condition.
And she knows that at this point in time he is very, very upset.
Normally when he comes back from Carly's he's happy and leaks love, but yesterday his shoulders were slumped and his brown eyes were swimming with tears she hadn't seen for two years.
In the morning he munches on his toast in silence and Marissa finds she wants to let him have chocolate spread on it so that it'll cheer him up a little. His face is blotchy, his hair messy.
"Freddie, sweetheart, what happened yesterday?"
He looks up at her and swallows.
"Nothing," he says. "Nothing at all."
Sam leans against her locker and watches Carly mutter to herself and stuff books in and out of her bag. Her normally pretty friend looks awful – puffy eyes, greasy hair and a red nose.
"Carly, this is such a stupid fight to have," Sam says. "He's just looking out for you."
"It's not a fight," Carly explains shakily. "It's just a misunderstanding."
"Carly, when he left he looked like he was going to cry. And by the looks of it you cried all last night."
Carly presses her lips together and turns back to her locker.
Freddie comes round the corner and makes to walk straight past them but Sam grabs him and tugs him over.
"Hey, Freddie! Look, Carly, it's our best friend!"
Carly bites her lip but doesn't turn to face him. Sam's grip on Freddie lessens as the awkward silence escalates.
"I've got to go to my locker," Freddie says, his voice hoarse. Carly stiffens at the sound of his voice.
He walks away.
"Samantha, dear, I don't think Freddie wants to see anyone," Marissa explains. Sam sighs but persists.
"I just want to talk to him. Talking makes you feel better sometimes, right?" she asks. Freddie's mom exhales in an exasperated way but moves to the side so that Sam can come in.
"Third door on the right."
"Thanks," Sam murmurs. She approaches the door and knocks three times.
"Go away, Mom." His voice sounds thick.
"It's Sam," she calls. "I'm not going to hit you or anything."
"Yes, you are."
"I won't. I just want to talk to you."
"Fine. Just give me a second."
There is some shuffling, and a thump, and then the door swings open.
"Come in," he tells her, waving her through the doorway.
Sam immediately sits down on his bed and pulls a Fat Cake from her pocket. He plonks down next to her and falls backwards.
"This is so stupid," Sam starts. "This is the dumbest thing to fight over."
"We're not fighting, we're...I don't know. I don't know what we're doing," Freddie chokes out.
Sam doesn't say anything.
"She won't look at me," he says, his voice tiny and broken and lost.
"Well, you guys have never had this kind of fight before. Both of you are being really stupid and weepy and you need to hug and forget about it," Sam exclaims, poking him.
He sits up and, bizarrely, rests his head on her shoulder.
"How do I get her to forgive me?"
"We get you two in the iCarly studio," Sam deadpans.
Freddie pulls his head up and stares at her. "What? How do you know she'll talk to me at all?"
"Well, she can just listen, right?" Sam raises her eyebrows at him until he nods slowly.
"I hope it works," he breathes.
"Sam, why are you dragging me up here?" Carly asks again.
"You'll see," Sam repeats for the twentieth time as they step into the studio.
Freddie looks up from one of the beanbags. Carly and Freddie stare at each other.
Sam sneakily and quietly turns the key in the lock.
"Hi," Freddie whispers.
"Hello," Carly mumbles back, slumping into the furthest beanbag from him and crossing her arms.
The silence is much, much too loud and he hates it.
"Carly," he begins, tugging at the ends of his hair. "I don't know what – what to do."
"Neither do I," Carly says, fiddling with the bracelets on her wrist.
"I was mad that you wouldn't let me look out for you," Freddie explains in a shaky voice. "I want to be able to do that, but I can't without you being mad at me."
He sniffs, furiously blinking back hot tears. "And I hate it when you're mad at me."
Carly's hand slowly – so slowly – reaches out and touches his shoulder.
"I could have been a lot more sensitive about it," she murmurs, fighting the wetness in her eyes too. "I'm sorry."
They look at each other.
Carly bursts into tears and Freddie instantly shuffles over to her on his knees. He pries her hands from her face.
"Carly, please don't cry," he begs. "It makes me cry too."
She leans into him, almost wailing. His face is suddenly very hot and very wet and he's holding her like a vice, except for the shuddering of his chest.
"D-did you cry last night?" she chokes.
"Y-yeah, I did." He replies in a gasp, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling that wonderful scent of her that he'd missed for what seemed so long.
"Me too," sounds near his shoulder. He squeezes her gently.
She looks up at him and he smiles down at her.
I love you.
Maybe, one day, she'll say it out loud.