A/N: Just a cute little one-shot that came to my mind while I was thinking of Jennette McCurdy's many talents. If you love cute, I-wanna-go-out-with-you-again-but-I-can't-because-the-break-up-was-mutual Seddie, you'll love this fic. Oh, and if you like it when Freddie squirms at how bad he wants Sam again, you'll also love this fic.
No established relationship, though there is plenty of fluff and stuff to giggle at. It happens a few weeks after the last episode, which was… iBattle Chip? I think so…
The first time he saw her ice skating was out of the blue. No, it wasn't a date. It wasn't the three of them hanging out and skating. It was just her on the rink. With Freddie standing by the side and watching.
In other words, Freddie seeing her ice skate for the first time was a complete accident.
It was a late Sunday afternoon, and apparently Carly had to pick up Spencer from Canada again because he fell asleep on the bus… yet again. She had called Freddie in a rush and instructed him to pick up Sam at the Seattle Frozen Oval Ice Rink a couple of blocks down from Bushwell, adding with a seething warning, "Whatever you do, do not go inside. Just call her and explain to her my whole issue with Spencer and ask her to come out. Okay?" To which he confusedly replied, "Ooo-kay?"
Completely oblivious to Sam's ability to even ice skate at all, he didn't question Sam's being there and drove to the ice rink, since he really had nothing to do at all – what with his homework being finished and no one else to hang out with.
He parked in the vast, mostly empty parking lot apart from two other cars and pulled out his phone to call her. But before he could, his mind suddenly picked up on the fact that she was here essentially alone.
He assumed the two cars were other employees' cars, then figured that she had somehow gotten a job there without his knowing. Deciding not to think about it any further, he finally dialed her, and after the eighth unanswered dial tone, he took his chances and hopped out of his car and into the building.
Maybe he should've thought it through a little more than he did. After all, it was Sam Puckett they were dealing with, right? On any other occasion, his legitimate, rational mind would have been more than happy to stay in the car and keep dialing until she picked up, all in good intention to avoid a very likely beating. But for some reason, he just didn't care, and maybe his own curiosity as to what the chiz Sam was doing in an ice skating rink just won him over.
Either way, he was going to find out once he got through those doors.
With nobody manning the ticket booth, he noticed the chart of hours posted on the window and scrolled his gaze down to Sunday.
SUNDAY – 9 AM to 6 PM
He checked the time on his PearPhone, noticing that they'd been long since closed, it being 7:12 and all. Growing even more curious, he turned into the vast hallway and into the doors of the ice rink, shivering at the rush of cool air that brushed past his body as he walked in.
And ho-ly chiz.
Aside from the fact that the rink was the biggest damn oval he'd ever seen in his entire life…
He couldn't believe how graceful that sexy myriad of curves on the ice looked. It was like the Sam on the ice wasn't the Sam he knew at all. The fiery blonde demon somehow had managed to look absolutely… sensual. It was like watching flames burn elegantly on ice. And it was quite a sight to see.
She skated backwards so fast he wondered how long she'd been doing this, and when she grabbed her foot and brought her right leg up parallel to her body and held it there while she skated on one skate, it absolutely took his breath away, leaving his slightly parted lips in a single rush of white puffs. When she continued to bend her legs in more ways than he thought humanly possible, all while skating on one foot, he thought he'd seen the best ice skater in the world.
It wasn't until she suddenly spun around in a fast but elegant and smooth circle that his breath was stolen from him once again, and his eyebrows snapped up in wonder.
Who is this girl?
It was like it wasn't Sam at all, and he briefly wondered if he had the wrong person.
But no. There was no denying the blonde curls tied in a lazy ponytail, the plump lips he could never seem to forget, and the-
Wait a second.
Ponytail?
Hot… damn.
Never in Freddie Benson's life had he ever in the large amount of years he'd known Samantha Puckett seen her in a ponytail. And hell, if he didn't think she looked absolutely gorgeous. Oh, God, and she was wearing the tightest ice skating pants he'd ever seen that hugged her slender, perfect legs so snugly, accentuating how absolutely damn-
It was then he shook his head frantically.
You guys aren't going out anymore, Freddie. Can't be thinking like that now.
And dammit if he didn't hate how right that little voice in his head was.
If only they were still going out. He had a few ideas of what he'd like to do to her after seeing that she was so flexible. How far back could her leg go if—?
Keep it together, Benson.
He cleared his throat at the brief visual his non-gentlemanlike mind provided him and shook his head again. How could this girl manage to baffle him without even talking to him?
"That's incredible," he finally managed to call out to her after she'd completed another trick, hands stuffed in his pockets.
She yelped at the unexpected voice and slipped, falling down harshly on the ice.
"Ooh!" he started, hands flying out of his pockets and bolting for the open gate.
Not thinking, he rushed out onto the ice – completely disregarding the fact that he did not have ice skates on – and immediately slipped himself and crashed into the ice with a yell of his own. He stared up at the ceiling in a daze as he slid to a stop, shocked at the hit he took on the way down. The ice was painfully cold against his back through his thin button down shirt, and he winced and cursed himself for not bringing a sweater.
He turned his head to see Sam in the process of getting up, and she did it so smoothly it was a wonder how she could do it with her ice skates on. She looked towards the body lying cold on the ground a few feet to the left of her and recognized him immediately.
With a frustrated growl, she skated toward him slowly and stopped right next to him, crossing her arms and giving him a lethal glare, "What the hell, Benson?"
The white steam that flowed from her mouth from the cold of the rink made her words seem even more deadly, and he shivered, from the ice or the chill of her words he wasn't sure.
Somehow managing to speak through the pain and dizziness, he rasped out, "Carly was busy and she needed me to come pick you up here."
She rolled her eyes and sighed, extending a hand out towards him. He looked at it suspiciously, eyeing her sideways at the (seemingly) helpful gesture.
She rolled her eyes again and stuck her hand out even more insistently, "Just take it; I won't flip you over my shoulder or anything."
Extending his own cautious hand, he took hers and pulled himself up with the other on the ground, finding it a little difficult with the freshly Zambonied ice.
"I would've thought Carly would be smart enough to tell you not to come inside," she reprimanded with uncontained anger in her voice.
"Sorry," he muttered quickly in reply. "But you weren't picking up your phone after I called like eight times, so I decided to just go inside. I didn't think I'd come across… well, this."
She looked at him disbelievingly and asked the only obvious question, "What the hell else would you find me doing at an ice skating rink, Freddumb?"
"I don't know! Maybe you work here or something. How was I supposed to know you had an incredible talent for ice skating?"
"Hey!" a deep, husky voice suddenly interrupted them. Freddie turned his head slowly to the side at the daunting voice. "Is that boy bothering you?" the bulky man pointed an accusing forefinger at Freddie.
"N-no, Uncle Benny, he's just a good friend. I told you about Freddie, didn't I?" Sam said coolly.
"Oh," he rumbled. "Well, nice to finally meet ya', Freddie," he gave him a surprisingly pleasant smile. "You kids have fun now."
Sam rolled her eyes as he walked back into his office. "Thanks, Uncle Benny!" she called out sarcastically without looking, remembering the way he used to tease her at how soft she got when she went out with Freddie for a while.
"Who was that?" Freddie asked worriedly with wide eyes, still a little scared at the lingering image in his mind of the very large and very muscular man.
"That was my Uncle Benny," she replied. "He's the owner of this place."
"Wait, your Uncle Benny owns this place?" he asked in disbelief.
She looked at him sullenly. "No, Freddie. He's not the owner of this place. I just said that to be funny."
"That's so cool!" he said eagerly, like a little boy, completely ignoring Sam's malicious sarcasm. "How long have you been going here?"
"Ugh, can we please talk about this somewhere else?" she complained. "I wasn't finished yet, but I'm not about to spin and skate around in girly circles for your nerdy enjoyment. Let's go somewhere else and talk."
"Uh, sure, fine," he mumbled, trying to hide his disappointment that he wouldn't be able to see more of her on the ice.
Before he knew it, she was skating towards the gate. When she finally stepped over the small ledge and out of the rink, she was about to bend down and untie her laces when she heard a thud and a pained whimper.
She looked up to see him sprawled on the floor once again, this time on his stomach, and tried not to laugh at the look on his face.
"Ow," was all he said when she looked at him with attempted worry on her face for a few moments before finally breaking out into vigorous laughter.
"You could h-help me out first b-before l-l-laughing at me and leaving m-me on the ice t-t-to f-f-f-freeze to death," he stuttered, now shivering almost violently at the cold piercing the bare skin of his arms and chin.
She finally managed to pull herself together after a few more moments of laughter. "Okay, okay," she said, trying to steady her voice and skated out to him, extending another hand when she reached him.
"Wait. Roll over onto your back. You'll fall over again if you get up like that… which wouldn't be a problem on my part, but your choice," she grinned mischievously.
He obeyed, rolling onto his back to prevent another mishap and reached his hand out to grab Sam's. Once she bent her knees a bit to lift him up, he tugged harshly and unexpectedly on her hand, sending her down to the ice next to him.
"Benson!" she snarled.
But he didn't notice. He was too busy laughing and holding his stomach at the burn he felt in his abdominal muscles.
"You're dead. Come here!" she lunged towards him, but he was too quick for her and slid swiftly away, still laughing.
"No! Don't kill me. I'm sorry," he chuckled, his laughter dwindling down a bit. "But seriously, I need some help to get over there, there is no way I can just walk on this ice and not expect to fall with the lack of friction that the soles of my shoes provi—"
"Okay, Freddie, you're rambling!" she interrupted in an annoyed tone as she finally got up.
"Sorry," he mumbled and then held out his hand, asking without words for a little help.
He furrowed his eyebrow at the look she gave his hand and sighed, "I won't do anything shifty. Just help me up… please."
She gave in, extending her hand, but then she pulled him roughly in the direction of the gate and suddenly he was sliding freely and quite quickly on the ice.
"Wai- Sam. What are you—? OH, GEEZ!"
He yelped in pain as his body tumbled sideways over the two-inch high ledge, groaning in a daze on his back. She was right there behind him and stepped over him, putting ice skate-clad feet on either side of him and staring down.
"Should've seen that coming," was all she said with a challenging smirk.
All he did was part his lips slightly and nod with an agreed grunt.
ø
"So how long have you been ice skating?"
They decided to talk at their usual hang-out, The Groovie Smoothie, and took the table nearest the door. They'd both ordered Strawberry Splats, and Sam was waiting on her fries.
"I don't know. Ten, maybe eleven years," she replied, thanking T-Bo when he brought out her fries.
The ride to the Smoothie was pretty silent. But that was better than any other reaction Freddie was imagining. He thought for sure she'd be furious for having him find out something so girly about her, but she remained quiet almost the entire way there, like she was scared as to what he thought about it.
"Wow. So you've been skating since you were six, huh?" he said, impressed. "How did I never find out? After all these years… Who knew?"
Yeah, that's what I thought when we started dating, Sam thought absentmindedly, though her brain still managed to register his question.
"Yeah, well, it's just… a lot of fun," she said with a faraway look in her eyes, unwilling to reveal any more about it, embarrassed that the last person she wanted to see her in that element finally had. "I just never told you. I mean, you wouldn't have really cared anyway."
"Uh, yeah, I would!" he nodded, his voice going high-pitched. "You were unbelievable out there. You should let people see that side of you more often. It was stunning," he smiled sincerely. "You were stunning."
His smile quickly turned into a satisfied smirk at the way she blushed and shrunk back a bit, eyes darting everywhere but him, before muttering in reply, "Well, thanks."
"No problem," he smiled.
She just curved her lips in a small smile back and continued eating her fries in response, taking a sip of her smoothie.
"Oh, have you ever done this?" she asked suddenly, squeezing off the lid of her smoothie.
"Done what?" he asked cautiously with hands on the table, afraid the contents of her cup might very well be dripping off of his head in the next few seconds if he didn't react quick enough.
"This," she grabbed two fries and dipped them in her smoothie, coating them with the bright pinkness of the beverage before stuffing them in her mouth with a satisfied moan. "God, it's so good. You have to try it."
His nose was scrunched and eyebrows furrowed, a look of repulsion on his face. "That's disgusting."
"It's perfectly gratifying. Not disgusting," she shook her head. "You don't know what you're missing out on."
"Oh, I think I know exactly what I'm missing out on and am perfectly okay to be," he swallowed and shuddered a bit.
"Won't know if you don't try," she sing-songed, waving another pair of strawberry smoothie-coated fries in his face.
"Thanks for the offer, but I—" he was interrupted when she shoved them into his mouth, and he was about to spit it out in disgust until he was surprised to find the taste unexpectedly… good. As in… really good.
"Wow…" he said as he chewed, a contemplative look on his face. "That's actually… wow."
"Eh?" she smiled, nodding and raising her eyebrows in a smug manner, one that said: "I told you so."
He smiled and tried not to focus on the fact that she had just shared her food with him – something that happened very, very rarely.
And, though he tried to protest it, the reason why he might have liked the taste of her fries so much was that it tasted exactly like Sam when he used to kiss her – strawberry lip gloss with a slight taste of something fried.
He might have just found his new favorite food.
"You know, I'd really like to see what else you can do on those ice skates," he said, and she laughed.
"Fat chance, Fredward" was all she said in reply, taking the last fry and popping it in her mouth.
He studied her closely, smiling and squinting at her a bit, as if it would clear his vision and generate an answer from her with his gaze.
"So how 'bout it?" he asked eagerly after a while, taking a sip of his smoothie.
"How 'bout what?" she asked as she nonchalantly took a sipof her own, as if oblivious to his wishes.
"How 'bout we ice skate sometime? Like… I don't know. Next weekend?" he implied hopefully.
Her eyes squinted as she eyed him carefully.
"If that is an invitation for you to laugh at me, the only thing you'll get to look forward to this weekend is my fist."
He laughed at her assertiveness and shook his head, "No, no. Just you, me, and the ice rink... And your Uncle Benny."
"So you're saying you want to be alone when we do this?" she asked challengingly with a raised eyebrow.
He immediately took note of the way she said "when" instead of "if."
"Well… we wouldn't exactly be alone, I mean, your Uncle Benny would be there…" he suggested with hopeful eyes, smiling at her last sentiment.
She squinted her eyes and eyed him again, giving him a challenging look and a smirk that would usually have him running out the door in seconds. After a few more heart-stopping moments on Freddie's part, he breathed a sigh of relief when she finally sighed in resignation, shook her head, and muttered under her breath, "Fine."
"So we'll do it?" he asked with a giddiness he couldn't quite explain, a boyish smile tugging at his lips.
She rolled her eyes, "Yes, Benson, did I not just say 'fine'?"
"YES!" he yelled out suddenly, making her and several other patrons of the Groovie Smoothie jump in their seats. "I mean, uh, thanks," he muttered when he realized his mistake, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck and shrinking in his seat.
She was giving him an incredulous look but couldn't help but giggle at the way his cheeks flushed crimson and lowered his head even more at the looks customers were giving him.
"You're so weird."
He snorted, "Says the one who likes dipping fries in her smoothies and eating them."
"Hey, you liked them, too, so don't go accusing me of being the weird one."
He sighed. For once, Sam was actually right. "True."
They continued talking even after their smoothies were finished, and Freddie felt absolutely giddy and oblivious as to what hour it was by the time nearly two hours had passed.
"Yo, Benson, Puckett," T-Bo's voice came from behind the counter. "I'm about to pop the lid on this fruit joint, so you might wanna' take your date somewhere else."
"Oh, T-Bo, we're not… dating anymore," Sam said unevenly, afraid to look back at Freddie at the statement… or rather, fact.
"Date, meeting, gathering, get-together, casual discussion amongst two mutual individuals, I don't give an orange's carpel," he replied. "Gotta' close up."
They looked around, surprised to see the place was entirely unoccupied besides the two of them.
"Wow, uh, sorry, T-Bo, I guess we just lost track of time," Freddie said apologetically, a look of surprise still on his face as he and Sam got up.
"S'okay, Freddie. Now you two lovebirds run along," he walked towards them, gesturing towards the door. "Have fun with the rest of your date."
"We're not dat—" Sam tried to clear it up again, but was interrupted once more.
"I'm sure there's someplace else where you can smooch and be all couple-y," he waved them towards the door, effectively shooing them out.
Sam was already making her way down the sidewalk, but Freddie lingered a couple more moments.
"Uh, thanks for letting us stay for that long, T-Bo," Freddie rubbed a hand across the back of his neck apologetically, glancing up at him. "We didn't mean to be a burden."
"Aw, don't worry about it, Freddie. Nothing but a peach in an orange pile, always easy to move it back in its original place."
"Uh, yeah… sure," Freddie replied hesitantly, confused by T-Bo's random drabble. "Well, good night."
"G'night!" T-Bo cheered with a smile, about to close the door.
"Oh, and uh, T-Bo?" Freddie said before he could, taking a step forward.
"Yeah?"
"You do know that Sam and I aren't going out anymore, right?"
"With the way you two were talking and having a good time at that table today? Naw, Freddie, anyone standing on the outside looking in, would tell you the exact opposite."
Before Freddie could reply, T-Bo shut the clear glass door in his face and waved with a smile, locking up the door and beginning to clean up.
Freddie took a step back, a contemplative look on his face, "Huh."
"Hey, Fredwad, you gonna' keep standing there or walk home with me?" Sam called out from down the sidewalk.
He smiled and looked at the signature smirk on her face, giving his own smirk back, which quickly turned into a crooked grin.
Anyone standing on the outside looking in, would tell you the exact opposite.
The words still remained in his head and refused to leave, and he jogged after Sam, excitedly looking forward to this weekend more than any other.
A/N: I don't know; I was gonna' make this a one-shot, but now that I made them schedule a get-together the next weekend, I'm not so sure now. I feel like it would be so darn cute.Would a second part make this story or break it? Let me know in a review. Thanks for reading!
C'mon, they didn't make that button the prettiest shade of blue for nothing. It was meant to be clicked on. Click on it. CLICK ON IT, I TELL YOU. The continuation of this fic depends on it! D:
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