iCarly
Allergies
Pairing: Sam and Freddie
Age: 15
Author's note:
Hi! :) So this is my first time writing for this fandom, and I hope it's not flame-worthy or anything. I'm still learning how to write fluffs and stuff, so pardon the awkward attempt. This is my first entry for my one shot collection dedicated to the most adorably dysfunctional pairing ever. Reviews and constructive criticisms are greatly appreciated.
He uselessly tossed another ball of crumpled paper towards her smirk smile, that of which was turned to his laptop. Sam rolled her eyes as she moved her head closer to screen, leaning on his desk, as she proved the apparent uselessness of his sad attempts at trying to shoot paper at a masterpiece known as her face. She reclined back on Freddie's chair, and continued her November entry on the iCarly blog.
"Sam, stop it," Freddie whined, mimicking a badly tuned violin–a sound he makes whenever she starts to piss him off, which was every five minutes, it seemed.
Sam payed attention to the blob sitting on the bed, and raises her eyebrows in question, "What?"
"Stop. It."
"Why, Fredward? I'm eating fruit. Fruit," She stated proudly–and really, this was something that he should definitely proud of, no doubt, but the unfortunate charm and truth that Sam would never grow up suspended the much needed celebration of her rare healthy choice.
"Yeah, I know, I think it's awesome you're doing something nice to the decreasing meat product population in my fridge," Freddie genuinely stated, "but that's–Sam!" The rational lecture he'd barely started was cut off when Sam popped another offensive fruit in her mouth, and the juice dripped down her chapped lips.
Sam suppressed a grin and feigned an innocent expression, "You want some, too, Freddiekins?"
He puffed his cheeks in frustration, looking dangerously close to a chipmunk kind of blob, and threw another piece of paper ball towards Sam. She laughed and wrinkled her nose as it hit her squarely between the eyes. "Okay, Benson, what do you have against peaches? Or is that the sort of talk you only have with your therapists?"
Freddie scowled, "Oh shut up, Sam, you know why… And I haven't talked to Julia since two years ago. You're the one who's been recently in the mental ward."
"I was there for reasonably reasonable reasons! And, no, I don't."
"Sam, peaches give me horrible rashes–and you were there when Spencer made fruit salad. Actually, you're always there when there's food."
She smirked, "Oh yeah."
Freddie made a face, "Yu-hu."
"Okay."
He waited for a few minutes, knowing she'd never willingly shut up in situations like these.
"You want some?"
He knew it.
"Sam!"
"What, I'm offering you food!" She said, shoving the fruit close to his face "Freddie, I'm starting to think you'd never appreciate any effort I give into trying to be nice."
He narrowed his eyes and wondered if he'd ever get used to her annoying behaviour that he seemed to never get enough of. "Oh, I'm sorry," he started, "I momentarily forgot to be grateful for your incredible determination to kill me."
Sam raised her eyebrows. "I'm not trying to kill you," she explained, taking her shoes off and putting her legs up on the chair, sitting cross legged, "just merely trying to drive you further down the abyss of insanity."
"Sam, shut up," Freddie complained, pulling his physics text book to his lap, "I'm trying to study."
Disappointed that she didn't get the reaction she's trying to get out of him, Sam shrugged and made a mental note to irritate him later on instead. She turned the chair so that she could face the laptop and continue writing her blog. It was only a few minutes later, however, when Freddie noticed that she's doing it again; unintentionally taunting and teasing and torturing him with that–that, y'know, mouth of hers. She licked her lips, tasting the sweet taste of the fruit, and she did her trademark pouty thing, where she'd bite the inner corner of her mouth. Freddie fought the urge to take her then and now, reminding himself he'd like to live up to well above his 80s.
But by God, it was sexy as hell, and he couldn't stand it.
In fact, he hates it.
Sam felt his gaze on hers–specifically, her lips–and she smiles that wicked smirk of hers, popping another slice of peach in her mouth. She chews loudly and bites her lower lip, bringing up the agony Freddie's constantly forced to deal with. It was when she stuck a small part of her tongue out that you finally give in. Freddie stood and swooped in towards her, catching Sam's mouth in his as he tastes the sweet atrocious flavour of her lips, taking her hands and guiding her towards the bed.
And it was when he moved on top of hers that he felt the smirk returning to her lips, realizing what the hell he's done.