Like Sweet Lemonade

Summary: It's summer vacation, and all Freddie has on his mind is a hammock, a stack of books, and a pitcher of ice cold lemonade––if he can manage to keep his plans a secret from a certain blonde, anyway. Seddie. Post iLove You.

Disclaimer: Don't own iCarly.

Chapter 1

Freddie Benson stared at the slowly ticking clock on the wall, willing the second hand to move faster. One more minute. In just one more minute, his junior year of high school would be over.

It wasn't like he had any huge plans. There was no around the world trip. There was no epic beach adventure. All that was waiting for him was a large brown box, a pitcher of lemonade, and the latest book in the Game of Kings series.

He, Sam, and Carly had already agreed that they wouldn't be doing iCarly for the next two weeks. They wanted the first week off to recuperate from final exams, and the second week of vacation Carly was going to see her grandfather in Yakima. Speaking of Sam...

His eyes slid over to the blonde across the room, and amusingly, her eyes were also trained on the clock at the front of the room. She already had her things packed up, and her knees bounced with anticipation as she waited for the bell to ring. Actually, everyone in the room was doing the same, but she looked especially eager to book it.

He could hear students out in the hall and groaned. Those were the lucky kids. The kids who had cool teachers for their last class that understood that the school year was over and that was no point in even trying to teach them anything. Unfortunately, he was stuck with Ms. Briggs. Ugh.

He glanced up at the clock and grinned. Ten seconds to go. It's not until a second later that he realized someone trying to start a countdown, and it took another second to recognize the voice of Sam.

"...7, 6, 5..." she said, completely ignoring the daggers Briggs sent her way. But what was she going to do? Give her detention? There wasn't a teacher in the school, no matter how miserly they were, who would stay after on the last day.

By now half the class had joined in with her, and he swore he could hear people in the hallway also counting down.

"3...2...1...!"

The bell rang and the loudest cheer he'd heard since last month's Cuttlefish concert resounded throughout the school. Paper flew into the air, kids left the room in a flood, and a very unfortunately positioned Ms. Briggs was nearly trampled to death. Unlike everyone else, though, Freddie calmly stood up, slipped his bag over his shoulder, and walked out into the hallway, carefully sidestepping his fallen teacher. A couple of years ago he might have helped her up, but not anymore. Sam must've rubbed off on him.

The only way to describe the scene in the hallway was pandemonium. Kids were running up and down the hallways, friends were hugging and crying...you know, the works. He waved at a few people, high fived a couple others, and hugged a girl or two as he walked towards his locker.

He'd already cleaned most of it out the day he took his last exam, but there were still a few necessities that he had to take home. Namely, his extra set of clothes (something you learned to keep on you when you were friends with Sam Puckett), the box of fatcakes he kept to keep Sam off of his back, and a few cans of spray paint Sam had stashed in his locker after a particularly horrible prank she'd pulled on Mr. Howard a few days prior. Huh. Everything in his locker was a result of her.

He closed his locker and sighed. Well, that was that. It was officially time to put his summer plans into motion.

The walk home was relatively eventless. Sure, there were a few of his classmates running down the street shirtless (to be more specific, Gibby), but that was normal. Unfortunately.

"Freddie?" Marissa Benson asked, a little surprised to see him walk through the door so early. He usually spent time chatting with Sam and Carly after school, and when he finally did get home, he'd just toss his backpack into is room and head across the hall.

In the beginning it had bugged her immensely. She wouldn't see Freddie all day except for breakfast and dinner, and since her life revolved around him–a fact she wasn't at all ashamed to admit–she often found herself lonely and bored.

It was the sole reason she'd joined the Seattle chapter of the Aggressive Parenting organization, the side benefit being that she realized she was one of the milder parents in the group. If the kids thought she was crazy, they should come to one of her meetings.

"Hey, mom."

The woman stepped out of the kitchen, worriedly checking him over for injuries. "Why are you home so early?"

Freddie shrugged. "I'm just tired. I'm gonna be in my room until dinner," he said, smiling slightly for her sake.

She watched him head down the hall towards his room. There was obviously something going on with him, but if it meant that he was going to be home more often, she wasn't going to complain. Much.

He threw his backpack into a corner and immediately got to his knees to grab the box he'd stashed under the bed the week before. Grabbing one of his keys–because there wasn't a box cutter in the house and his mother constantly monitored the knives–he slipped one of them under the tape and ripped the box open.

A grin popped up on his face as he pulled the second, slightly smaller box out. On it, the words 'Handmade Yucatan Hammock' were printed boldly across the top. It was Matrimonial size–because he wanted as much room to move around as possible–and it'd cost him a cool fifty bucks. Fifty bucks of 'completely worth it.'

He made quick work of the packaging and peeked inside to make sure that the light beige hammock was indeed there before opening his window and hopping out onto the fire escape. It was a beautiful day outside, and as good as any to put it up and try it out. The directions were fairly straightforward, and in just under ten minutes, he had the hammock hanging securely between two railings on the fire escape.

He was a little worried that it wouldn't support his weight, so he slowly and awkwardly climbed onto the hammock. After one unsuccessful attempt that landed him butt first on the metal grate he finally managed to balance himself, and God was it comfortable. The hammock conformed to his body and cradled him like a newborn baby.

The gentle swinging quickly made him sleepy, and in minutes he was out.

The next day he didn't wake up until noon. His nap the day before ruined his sleep schedule, so he'd stayed up until four in the morning watching movies on his laptop.

Freddie quickly changed into a plain t-shirt and a pair of shorts before ambling into the kitchen. He'd prepared lemonade the morning before, and after a full day marinating in the fridge, it was guaranteed to be delicious.

He grabbed an apple and a clean glass and got ready for his first official day of summer with no Sam, no Carly, and no stress.

As he lie comfortably on the hammock with his book propped up in one hand and his glass of lemonade–complete with bendy straw–in the other, he felt his mind drift to the reason he was doing this in the first place. In other words, he began to think about Sam.

That's right, the reason he was hiding out on his fire escape was so that he wouldn't have to deal with his ex-girlfriend. It's not that he didn't like her. It was the exact opposite, actually. They still hung out almost everyday, and they still did iCarly together even after they'd broken up. He just never really had a chance to get over her.

It was especially hard since he hadn't really wanted to break up in the first place. She'd brought it up first after hearing what Carly said about Spencer's relationship, and like the over agreeing idiot that he was, he'd assented. He constantly wondered what would've happened if he'd said 'no, I don't want to break up,' but it was too late for that now. It'd already been well over three months.

It drove him crazy to have her so close and not be able to touch her, or kiss her, or have her smile at him in that mischievous yet alluring way that she used to. Going over to Carly's place was his own personal hell, and now that he finally had some breathing room what with the show being cancelled for a couple of weeks, he fully intended to get over her for good. It was a sabbatical of sorts.

Of course, he hadn't told anyone of his plans. He couldn't tell Sam for obvious reasons, and If he told Carly, she'd just say he was being stupid and tell Sam what he was up to, ending his plan before it even started. Gibby would squeal if Sam came to him for answers (She could be very persuasive when she wanted to be), and his mother, well...there was no telling what she would do. She'd either support his plan wholeheartedly or freak out about him being outside all day. Basically, it was just safer all around to keep the whole thing to himself.

The buzzing of his phone grabbed his attention, and he looking at the screen, he saw that it was Carly. Great. It hadn't even been a full day yet and she was already curious about him.

"Hey Carly," he said, trying to fake enthusiasm. The fact that he had to pretend that he actually cared to talk to her almost made him laugh, especially considering the fact that he used to have the absolute biggest crush on her.

"Hey, where are you?"

Freddie furrowed his eyebrows, trying to remember if he'd agreed to meet up with her. Drawing a blank, he answered as vaguely as he could. "Out, why?"

"Oh. You didn't come over yesterday or today, so Sam and I–uh, I mean, just I was wondering if you were okay."

"I'm fine, just been sleeping off the stress from finals. You know how it is." He heard Sam say 'See?' in the background and realized that Carly had him on speakerphone. He hated it when she did that.

"Well, okay. Are you coming over today?"

"No, sorry. Actually, I might not be around much for the next few days."

The phone went silent for a while, and he checked his phone to see if it was even still working. "Freddie, what is this about?" it finally said, crackling back to life.

He wasn't surprised that they were concerned since they were his best friends and all, and luckily, he'd planned for this. "I'm just taking a break from everything. you know, recharging my batteries. I'll definitely be back around in time to see you off when you go to Yakima."

"But that's a week from now!"

"Sorry, Carly, I gotta go. Tell Sam I said hey," he said, even though he knew the blonde could hear him. he quickly hung up the phone and tossed it onto the ground next to his hammock. He wasn't too worried about them trying to come over and find him since his mom wasn't home to let them in, and if Sam picked the lock, all she'd find is a dark, empty room and a closed, curtain-drawn window. He made sure to hide his shoes, too, tossing them in the back of his closet so that it looked like he'd actually gone somewhere.

He felt slightly guilty, but he'd worked most of that out within the first week when he'd first come up with this plan over a month ago. He reasoned that this would make them all even better friends since he hopefully wouldn't be secretly lusting over Sam every time they hung out, and who knows? They might actually be able to get new significant others, since he found it hard to even look at another girl while Sam was still so prominent in his life.

Freddie poured himself another large glass of lemonade, settling himself back down to continue reading. He'd hung a tarp from the railings on the floor above him to block out the majority of the sun, and with his iPod playing gently on the steps next to him, his little hideout had become somewhat of a paradise. If he could get a fridge and a fan out here, it'd be all but perfect.

His phone buzzed, signaling that he got a new text message. He picked it up and groaned. It was from Sam.

Sam: dude get your nubby butt over here

He really didn't know what to do. In every scenario he'd imagined, Sam never contacted him. It was either Carly, Gibby, or Spencer who tried to get in touch. The blonde just wasn't the type to express that she wanted someone around. Especially not after only a day.

Freddie: What's up? I'm busy right now.

Sam: doing what polishing your mathlete trophy

Freddie: Sam I'm just busy. I'll talk to you later.

He put his phone on silent and dropped it back onto the hammock and tried to get back to his book, but he was curious about what else she had to say. When he checked his phone an hour later, though, she hadn't texted him again so he figured that she was done. It was just as well, he was a little too eager to hear from her.

The next five days went much the same as the first one. He'd wake up, eat something, take a pitcher of lemonade and some books out to the fire escape, and waste the day away. The only real changes were that he'd found an old fan to add some cool air to his little hideaway and the occasional appearance of his laptop to watch movies or chat to his other friends on SplashFace. Invisible, of course.

The best part was that he'd barely thought about Sam at all. Okay, the first day had been a little rough. He'd practically stalked her SplashFace page to see what she was up to and even her visited her Tweeter a couple of times. After blocking her account on both sites, though, he'd found it much easier to forget all about her and get sucked into the Game of Kings world.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. He'd promised that he'd go over to see Carly before her two week trip to Yakima even though it seemed a bit awkward to do that now when he hadn't seen her in almost a week. She was sure to drill him about his recent scarcity.

He dragged himself out of bed, slipped on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and slowly walked into the kitchen. "There you are, Freddie! I feel like I never see you these days!" His mother exclaimed, standing up from the couch. He noticed that she was watching some DVD on effective flea bathing techniques. Great. "Do you want some breakfast?"

Freddie grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter. "No thanks, I've got it. I'm going over to Carly's."

His mother's face fell slightly and she sat back down in front of the TV. "Well, alright. Be home by dinner."

He nodded and slipped on his shoes before heading across the hall and opening the door. Of course, Sam was sitting on the couch, legs stretched out and resting on the coffee table. "Yo," he greeted, hoping he didn't sound as awkward as he felt.

He wasn't expecting an answer, but he certainly wasn't expecting the murderous glare she sent his way. She hadn't looked at him that way since they were in junior high, and if he was being truly honest with himself, it was frightening. He waited for her to say something, but when it became obvious that she had no intentions of speaking to him, he stepped further into the apartment.

"Where's Carly? Is she done packing yet?"

She didn't answer him and continued to glare, so he shrugged to himself and bounded up the stairs two at a time, hoping he could make it back to the safety of his apartment without a beat down.

Her door was open so he decided to just walk on in. Carly was hunched over her dresser, pulling clothes out by the armful. It was just like her to wait until the last minute to pack.

"Hey Carly, need some help?" he asked, sitting down on her bed.

"Freddie!" she practically squealed, turning around to wrap him up in a hug.

He awkwardly lifted his arms to hug her back, not quite expecting that level of excitement. "It's only been a week."

She pulled away and rolled her eyes. "A week too long! Sam's been such a buzzkill without you around." As soon as the words left her mouth, she slammed her hand over it. "I mean, not saying she missed you or anything, but like...uh...so, you wanted to help me?"

Freddie tried not to show his surprise. Sam missed him? Well, actually, it wasn't that shocking. Most people thought of Sam as a cold, heartless, unfeeling bitch, but she wasn't like that at all. Not even close. In some ways, she was more sensitive than half the people at Ridgeway.

Granted, it was only the people closest to her that ever got to see this side of her, but it still existed. He felt a little bad about doing this to her, but it'd be better for both of them in the long run.

"So, what do you need me to do?"

"Ummm, can you pack up my laptop stuff?"

He shrugged and headed over to her makeup station. "Sure." Her desk was a mess of cords and cables, so he set to work untangling them all one by one. He got a not-so-secret joy out of organizing and cleaning things–a trait he'd probably inherited from his overbearing mother. It wasn't until five minutes later that he finished.

"Carly, I'm done–" he started, turning around with her laptop bag. Instead of seeing the brunette, though, an angry Sam was glaring at him from the doorway.

He couldn't help it; he gulped. the look on her face was the stuff of nightmares. She closed the door and locked it behind her.

"What's up, Sam?" His eyes flickered to the window, wondering if a fall from the eighth floor would really kill him.

"Shut it, nub. You're going to tell me what the hell your problem is even if I have to beat it out of you."

"Did you miss me that much? It's only been a week," he teased, hoping it would lighten the mood.

He noticed her eyes flash, but just as quickly, it disappeared. "Don't flatter yourself. I wouldn't care if you dropped dead in a gutter."

Freddie winced. That actually kind of stung. She seemed to realize that it'd hurt him as her face softened. "I didn't mean that. Look, Carly's freaking out on me about this whole thing and for some reason thinks it's my fault. Just tell me–is it my fault?"

Yes, it's your fault. It's your fault for being so smart. It's your fault for being so beautiful. It's your fault for being irresistibly cheeky. He didn't say any of that though. Instead, he shook his head. "Not everything's about you, Puckett. Alright?"

Her eyes bore into his in that annoyingly invasive way that he'd become used to. She was a master at telling when someone was lying, but he'd also gotten pretty adept at hiding the truth from her. The key was to maintain eye contact and keep your face completely neutral. "Okay," she relented after a good ten seconds, "But show your face every now and then."

Freddie shrugged noncommitedly. Fat chance of that happening. He walked past her and opened the door, slipping out before she could say anything else. He practically ran down the steps, hoping that either Carly or Spencer were around to protect him. Luckily Carly was sitting at her computer, scrolling through what looked to be her SplashFace page.

"What was that about? Why did you leave me with Sam?" he asked, trying not to sound angry.

Carly guiltily looked up from the computer. "Well, she knows you best, and I was hoping you two would work out whatever's going on. Did you?"

"No, because there's nothing going on. Is it really that weird for me to not want to hang out with you guys every single day?"

Her downtrodden expression made him wince. Perhaps that had been a little mean. Sighing, Freddie held out her laptop bag for her to take. "Here, I packed it all up for you."

Carly smiled halfheartedly. "Thanks."

"Where's Spencer?"

"He's at Socko's picking up a suitcase. He used his old one in a sculpture. You know, the 'mini-robo hobo clown in a suitcase' thing that caught on fire."

A snort slipped out of Freddie's nose at the memory. It was both the most hilarious and disturbing thing that Spencer had ever made, mostly because of the creepy giggling that came from the clown's mouth whenever you opened the suitcase. Hell, he still occasionally had nightmares of the robot's voice melting as it burst into flames, the clown's high-pitched laugh dropping an octave with each passing second until it sounded like something that had come out of hell itself.

At that moment, Sam came back downstairs and plopped down on the couch. He noticed she looked a little less angry than she had before, but she still refused to look at him. At least in Carly's presence.

"So, have fun in Yakima," he mumbled, feeling the awkwardness in the room reach heights he hadn't thought possible.

The brunette leaned forward and hugged him again. "Thanks, and you try to keep Sam out of trouble. Who knows what she'll get into when I'm not here?"

"Your fridge, most likely," Sam murmured from the couch.

He smiled at her answer but quickly wiped it from his face a second later. He hated how easy it was for her to make him smile.

"I'll...I don't know, I might be busy. But have fun, okay?" He pulled himself out of her grasp and strode out of the door before either of them could say another word, and he didn't take another breath until he was back out on the safety of his fire escape. That was close. Carly was just about to use her famous 'Please, for me?' line on him, he could tell. It wasn't nearly as effective as it used to be, but to keep up appearances, he usually gave in. As long as people thought he was crushing on Carly again, no one would question his feelings for Sam. So far, it'd worked beautifully.

Still, Freddie felt uneasy, and he couldn't help but feel as though something was off. It'd been a little bit too easy for him to get away from Sam, and having known the girl for over four years of his life, he knew that she never gave up on anything without a substantial fight. Maybe she really didn't care for his company anymore. But then why had she gotten so angry with him?

He shrugged it off and pulled out his laptop, deciding to perform some site maintenance to kill time. He ran a speed test on all of the pages to make sure they were still running as smoothly as the day they'd been put up and then checked the site's ranking on search engines to see if the search engine optimization he'd done the week before was yielding any results. Luckily, it seemed to be doing it's job. They were getting a thousand more hits per day.

By the time he finished it was almost dark outside, so he yawned and dragged in his things. He wasn't too worried about anyone stealing his stuff since the fire escape faced an alley and the next building over had no windows on his side. Even if you walked down the alley no one would be able to see anything since he was on the eighth floor, and getting onto the fire escape was a whole other ordeal in itself since the ladder had to be let down from above.

All that said, he didn't want to risk leaving anything electrical outside just in case it rained. It was still Seattle, summer or not.

The smell of something good cooking reached his nose as he slipped into his room and Freddie raised his eyebrows. It was rare that anything his mom cooked was ever appetizing.

"What's for dinner, mom?" he asked, floating his way into the kitchen.

His mother looked up and smiled. "I learned an amazing recipe for healthy oven-fried chicken from one of the other nurses at the hospital and wanted to try it. Did you wash your hands?" When he nodded, she continued. "Then would you be a dear and set the table?" she asked, turning back to stirring something on the stove.

Pleased and a little surprised by how non-overbearing she was being, he quickly moved to do as she asked. Since it was just the two of them it only took him a couple of minutes to get everything set up so he plopped down in his usual seat facing the door.

He felt his stomach grumble as his mother used a spatula to place an extremely juicy looking chicken thigh on his plate along with a spoonful of brown rice and broccoli. After serving herself, she sat down in the seat adjacent to him.

They said a quick prayer and dug in. "This is amazing," Freddie moaned after taking a bite of his chicken.

A rare, proud smile appeared on his mother's face. "Why, thank you, Fredward. Perhaps I could make this again sometime."

"I'd love you forever! I mean, not that I don't already, but even more than I do now!"

She laughed at his over enthusiasm and took a bite for herself. "Do you think even Samantha would approve of this fried chicken? We could invite her over to try it." Her smile quickly fell as she noticed the expression on her son's face. "Freddikins?"

Freddie quickly pasted on a fake smile. "It's nothing. Carly went on vacation to Yakima and now I'm stuck with Sam. Just a little afraid for my life," he explained, chuckling weakly.

Despite what a lot of people thought of her, Marissa Benson was no idiot. She was a little overprotective, yes, but she still had her common sense, so as much as she wanted to hate Sam for how she used to treat Freddie, she couldn't. Every since they'd dated, the blonde had been just as protective as she was of Freddie. Well, maybe not to that extreme, but she obviously went out of her way to look out for him.

Like the time Freddie was hit by the taco truck. She'd been initially shocked by how little Sam seemed to care about the whole situation and had written the girl off as an unfeeling, good for nothing little delinquent–at least until she'd gotten up early one morning to check on him. Somehow Sam had snuck into Freddie's room while she'd been sleeping and was sitting on the bed next to him, stroking his hair just gently enough so that he wouldn't wake up and catch her.

It wasn't so much the uncharacteristic action that surprised Marissa as it was the concerned look on her face. It was like she was worried that he could die at any moment, or maybe she felt some remorse for not being fast enough to save him. Either way, the fact that she was there at all had given her major points with the woman, and it also helped her to realize that the way Sam treated Freddie in public was completely different than the way she actually felt about him.

So that was why she didn't believe for a second that Freddie was afraid of Sam hurting him. Physically, at least. "Is that really what's bothering you?"

Freddie shrugged his shoulders, spooning another mouthful of rice down his throat. "Yeah, I guess," he mumbled unconvincingly.

Even though she wanted to ask what was really the matter, she instinctively knew that it was time to drop it. The truth would come out sooner or later. It always did.

AN: The plot seems simplistic, I know, but I don't want to give too much away. Takes place a few months after they break up. I'm not huge on long ANs, so if you're curious about something, please ask!

Also, this story was my NaNo fic last year, just decided to finally post it. Can't let so much work go waste.