Author's Note: Summer days are smoldering here. I wish it were winter.
Disclaimer: iCarly and all its characters copyrighted to Schneider's Bakery, Viacom, and Nickelodeon.
Freddie fumbled for his keys, inserted the jagged end into the keyhole, opening the door. He walked in, passing through the empty living room and kitchen, going straight for his room. He threw his backpack on the floor, sighing as he fell into his bed. Today was a hot day, the heat only made Freddie's already cloudy mind cloudier.
"Model?"
Sam nodded, a devilish smile still upon her face. "Yeah. I need to finish my summer project and I haven't even started." Sam motioned with her sketch pad, waving it in the air. Freddie eyed Sam suspiciously, thinking that maybe this was just another one of her pranks. Sam could read Freddie's thoughts like a book, immediately wiping the smile from her face. "I'm serious. I really need to finish this project and both Carly and Spencer said they couldn't." Freddie pouted his lips in indecisiveness, crossing his arms and looking up towards nothing in particular, deep in thought. "C'mon. You said you owed me."
Freddie heard his front door open and close abruptly, footsteps approaching his room. Sam appeared in his doorway, a large sketchpad under one arm, with a folded easel under the other. She had her usual red and black checkered backpack over her shoulder, no doubt filled with art supplies and thievery tools. Sam dropped all her belongings onto Freddie's floor, sighing exasperated as she caught her breath. "Dang, all this stuff is such a pain to lug around," Sam complained, rubbing her shoulder. She saw Freddie sitting on his bed, dumbstruck and staring. "What're you ogling at, nub?"
Freddie looked at Sam as if she didn't know. "I'm looking at you. What're you wearing?" Sam looked at her outfit, finding nothing unusual about it. She wore a yellow sleeveless V-neck, accenting her slim but toned arms. Along with her V-neck she wore a pair of red short shorts, which showed off her long and tan legs. Sam didn't see anything wrong with her outfit. She looked back at Freddie, confused. "Don't you think you're showing too much skin?" Freddie pointed out.
Sam cracked a smile and chortled. "Since when do you care how much skin I show? Besides, it's hot today. When I went home to grab the easel I figured I might as well change into something more comfortable."
"I guess."
Sam set up her easel and sketchpad, taking out her art supplies. She pulled Freddie's desk chair to the middle of the room, pointing for Freddie to sit in it. Freddie did as instructed, sitting still in the chair as Sam began to draw. Posing for an artist could quite possibly be the most boring thing Freddie ever had to do. He sat with a bored look on his face, staring straight at the back of Sam's easel. Every once in a while Freddie would get a glimpse of Sam peeking from behind the easel to look at Freddie, but nothing else changed. The air around them was starting to get warm, an undesirable heat circulated throughout the room.
"It's hot." Freddie complained, rising from his seat. Sam groaned in frustration as her model suddenly sprung to life.
"So open a window then, dipthong. Then get back in the chair and stay still." Sam grumbled, erasing a part of her drawing. Freddie once again did as he was told, sliding open a nearby window. Freddie expected his face to be met with a rush of cool air, but all that came into the room was humid Seattle air. Freddie groaned, getting even more frustrated.
"Whoa, calm down, Benson. Why don't you just take off your shirt?"
Freddie froze in place and just stared at Sam as if she had suddenly grown a turtle neck and horns. "What?" he shouted incredulously. "Take my shirt off?"
Sam just shrugged, not seeing the big deal. It's not like she told him take off his pants. Freddie continued to stare at Sam, his eyes fixed onto hers. She stared back with a "why not" expression, waiting to hear Freddie's response. When Freddie did not say or do anything, the awkward silence only getting worse, Sam stood up from her easel.
"You want me to take off my shirt, too? So y'know, you won't be the only shirtless person in the room?" Sam questioned.
Freddie's mouth was now agape, his face turning three shades of red. "You must be joking." Sam just groaned, pulling at the bottom of her shirt. Just as she was about to pull it up over her head, Freddie swiftly grabbed Sam's wrist, stopping her. "How on earth does your idiotic little brain think that the both of us being topless will make me more comfortable than only myself being topless?"
Sam felt Freddie's strong grip on her wrist. She could tell Freddie was determined in keeping both shirts on their own bodies. Freddie's tight grip reminded Sam once again of growing boys, the puny nub she once made fun of was now older and that meant stronger- Possibly even stronger than herself.
"You're such a prude, Fredward." Sam half-whispered, half-giggled. Sam liked a challenge.
Confused by Sam's sudden flirty-sounding comment, Freddie loosened his grip around Sam's wrist, but Sam in turn grabbed Freddie's free hand and held it tight in her grip. "S-Sam? What're you doing...?"
Sam pulled Freddie closer to him, their collective body temperatures only making it hotter. "Y'know, if your mom walked in right now- She'd probably accuse you of taking advantage of me, nub." Sam joked.
Freddie caught Sam's joke, her usual banter putting him back in his comfort zone. This was a joke to her, Freddie thought—and Freddie liked to play along with jokes. "She won't be home 'til late." he whispered, through a sly smile.
"Take." Sam reached with her free hand for Freddie's shirt. "Off." She began to pull up. "Your." Freddie rested his hand on hers, assisting her with the action. "Shirt." Freddie's shirt fell to the floor, his body now exposed.
The two stood together in silence, Sam drinking in the view. She placed her hand upon Freddie's shoulder, moving downward, slowly feeling every arch and dip in his muscular frame—His shoulder blade, his pecs. She played with her fingers, twirling them around Freddie's abdomen, stopping just short of Freddie's belt. She looked up a the young man, who looked every bit as nervous as she did, waiting for the inevitable.
"Sam..." Freddie managed to mumble, his mouth going dry.
Right at that moment, Sam pushed Freddie away, moving back to her easel. "Great! Now let me finish my project."
"What?" Freddie shouted, in all his topless glory. "What the heck was that? You seduce me and the moment my shirt is off all you care about is your dumb project?"
Sam just shrugged, pulling out some colored pencils from her bag. "Yep. You got a problem with that, Benson?" Freddie just stood in awe of Sam's nonchalant attitude, mouth agape and still shirtless. "Keep your shirt off, Fredlumps, I like what I see."
Freddie scoffed at Sam's comment, looking over her easel. "Is Sam Puckett flirting with me, Fredward Benson, the so-called nubbiest boy alive?"
"Yep. You got a problem with that, Benson?"