Genre: Romance/Drama/AU
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I own nothing! Just my imagination and if iCarly was mine, it would be called iFreddie by now, so. Dan Schneider (Le Nickelodeon Troll) owns everything.
Pairings: Sam/Freddie – Seddie! Brad and Carly – Barly. Maybe Wendy and Gibby, but I don't know who you call that… Wibby?
Summary: They live in an alternative universe, above ashes of war. The horror seems to stop when a religious organization takes over the entire nation, organizing the chaos. They live under new rules now; everything should be organized and properly prepared. Even the marriages should be carefully planned. Alternative universe, maybe a bit OCC, I don't know yet. Inspired in this amazing THG fic called Five Loaves of Bread: Dark Toast
A few words spoken and I'm a married man. I've never pictured what my wedding day would be like, I'm not a girl, but if I had it wouldn't be this way. The girl, Samantha, kept looking at the floor the whole time, like the goddamn marble is the most fascinating thing in the world. I understand though, I'm a stranger, everyone here is a stranger to her, she feels cornered, forced to spend the rest of her life chained to some stranger guy covered in battle scars.
The judge tells me to sign a paper, then her, then Brad and Carly. Now we're formally married. And all I can think about are my parents. How much they loved each other, how my dad proposed to my mother on her birthday, under the moonlight. How they got married on the church my mother was baptized, and how five years later I was born. Anyone who saw them together could see the love, how much they cared for each other. You could see it in the way they looked at each other, and I always felt safe around so much love. One day if I had a wife, I wished at least I could have with her what my parents did, but I can't. I won't be able to.
I don't want to make life harder for the poor girl, I really don't. But how can you be able to love a stranger that was forced to you under these circumstances? I won't blame her if she never loves me either, I won't blame her if she doesn't want me. This is already hard enough. Brad pats me on the back and the judge tells me to kiss my bride. I feel terribly uncomfortable, so I look at her, as if asking for permission. She takes a deep breath and hangs her head upright, chin pointing forward. I've met many people in my lifetime, bad people, good people, sad people, proud people… And I definitely can tell, this girl is strong and proud, she's not the type to accept pity or help from anyone. I can tell she went through some tough times, and still she stands. I admire her for it. She looks at me with a challenging look on her face that says just do it and get this over with, but that's not what I want. Heck nothing of this is anywhere near of what I want.
My hands are shaking a little, but I bring them to her and cup her face. This is the first time she's looking back at me, in the eyes, and I can see how pretty she really is. I had my fare share of whores in this life, and regular women too, but none of them could be compared to this girl. She's by far, the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. If we were under other circumstances, I probably would fall in love with her, or at least have a hot one night stand with her. Her cheeks and ears are red with embarrassment, and her eyes look at me with hidden fear. I can tell she's hiding behind her false strength, but at least she's not crying like I've seen many girls do before in their weddings.
I don't want to start my life by scaring my wife to shit, or forcing her into something she's clearly not into, but I also have to put up a show for the judge and the guards on the door. So I start with something simple, I press my lips softly against her forehead. Her skin is soft, it feels like a rose petal. She's all creamy white and baby pink in the right spots, and as I man I find her completely desirable. This is not a problem since she's my wife, tonight is our honey moon, and I get to see her completely. But deep down inside I know I won't. I won't be able to, because that would be almost like raping her, and even for a trained killer like me, that's too much.
I remove my hands and lips from her, and watch as she gives me a confused look. She looks a little like a cornered wildcat I once saw in the woods. Feral and strong, but scared and trapped.
"Now you can go." The judge releases us, because there's nothing to do here anyway.
"Nice to meet you Samantha, I'm Bradley and this is my wife Carly." Brad offers his hand, and she stars at it for a second, deciding whether or not she should accept it.
Carly gives me a sympathetic look, and rushes forward to grab her hand and shake.
"You're going to be okay here, Samantha. We live right next door to you, anything you need you can come and ask me, I'm home all day."
Samantha nods, still looking at Carly with a scowl. I know she's just trying to protect herself, walking on egg shells. I realize I haven't spoken to her yet, and as soon as we're outside, heading for the car, I push myself to say something, anything to make this situation less awkward.
"So…? You're from Texas?" I start lamely, because I don't know what else to say.
She nods again, clearly letting me know the conversation is not welcomed. I sigh and open the car door for her. These cars, the ones left, were modified to be more resistant, like everything else left, it had to be better and stronger in order to survive. The ride to our new home is tense. You can taste the tension like a cloud of smoke in the air. Brad and Carly are probably already home, but I drive slowly, so she can see the streets.
"There are many things we're still building, and there's going to be a long way before we can be properly called a town again, but yeah… we're getting there."
Samantha nods one more time, and presses her head against the glass. We arrive at home and I park the car on my new garage. I've helped build this house, like many others, I made it stand, and now I get to live here. It's a good house, it's the same for everyone, the same shapes, blueprint and design, even the same colors. Everything is the same. I open the front door for her, she doesn't have any bags because they're not allowed to bring their own clothes. Visualize has a closet prepared with the clothes we're supposed to wear.
The minute I walk into the room, I miss my apartment. Small, plain and simple, for one person only, comfortable enough for me. This house is too big, my screams are going to echo everywhere. The furniture is simple, the same for everyone, and we don't have a TV, but then again, there's nothing to watch anymore. There's nothing to do around here, no books, no music, not TV. Nothing. Visualize organizes some boring ass lectures every week, fairs and even events to keep people from dying of boredom.
"Uh, the kitchen is over there." I point. "Down here we have the dining room, the kitchen, a bathroom and the living room. See that door?" I show her the door leading to outside. "There's a porch and a backyard. The grass is not all grown yet, and the flowers will take some time too, but you can stay outside and watch the sunset in the afternoons."
"You live here?" Those are the first words she even spoken to me. Her voice is like a soft whisper, almost involuntary like she was beaten by curiosity.
"No. But I've been to Brad's house. They're all the same. And I've built this one."
"Oh… You built?"
"Yeah, that's my job, I'm an engineering."
There's a gap of silence between us, until I remember what I was doing previously.
"So… upstairs we have the master suite, and two other bedrooms and a bathroom."
"Oh…"
It's already dark outside, and I know what must be on her mind. It's on mine too.
"Are you hungry?" I ask.
She nods.
"Well…" I point to the kitchen, inviting her to come with me. She follows me there gingerly. "All I can cook is mac and cheese."
"I can cook." She clears her throat. "No problem. I know how to cook."
"Alright…" I open the cabinet. "There's enough food here…"
"What do you like to eat?"
I turn around and she's already putting the apron.
"Mac and cheese?"
"And besides that?" She talks to me, but doesn't look me in the eye.
"Anything, basically. When you're in war you just get used to everything. I'll eat anything you can cook."
I didn't mean to bring the war issue now, but it's involuntary. Sometimes I let things slip because I don't pay attention to what I'm saying anymore.
"You've been in the war…"
I can hear the fear mixed with the sadness in her voice, but I can see her face because her back is turned to me. She's looking inside the fridge for something to cook.
"Yeah. A long time ago. But uh… what can you cook?"
I try to bring back the lighter subject. I know it's better for the both of us.
"Anything." She searches a little more. "Do you like stake?"
"Sure."
I grab one of the chairs and sit with my elbows on the table. Sometimes when I do this I remember my mother, telling me to sit properly, but I never correct myself. I feel like I should though, at least be polite in front of my wife, so I retrieve my elbows and sit upright, hands on my lap.
"Okay, I'll make stake, salad and green beans. You're okay salad right?"
"Yeah. There's only three things I'm allergic to…"
I feel like it's important to mention this. Share some information of my life, and then maybe she'll share some of hers.
"Lobster, peanut and kiwi."
"Noted."
I didn't quite accomplished what I meant, she' not up for conversation.
She's starting on the stake and I feel bad about sitting around doing nothing. I don't wanna be one of those guys that just sit around waits for his wife to do anything. She's not my maid and I'm aware of that. Maybe I should chop something, I'm not completely useless in the kitchen.
"I can work on the salad if you want. I know how to chop things." I inform her.
"Sure… uh… okay, if you want."
I can tell she's trying to be polite, and not really showing the anger she's feeling and the discomfort. I'm feeling it too, I know it's hard. I don't say anything else, it won't do any good. I start on the salad while she does the rest and half an hour later we're sitting on the each side of the table, eating silently. It's extremely awkward and tense, all I can hear is the sound of our mouths chewing, the crickets outside and the sound of the water running down our throats.
"I can wash the dishes if you want." I tell her, collecting my plate and cup from the table.
"No need." She yanks them off my hands and dips them on the sink.
"Really, there's no big deal." I push her softly to the side. "You must be tired from the trip, I don't mind."
Samantha gives me this suspicious look, but nods and walks away. She looks at me like she's trying to find a hidden agenda behind everything I do. I don't blame her, I'm a bit paranoid myself. I have the tendency to look at people from the corner of my eye, and expect them to attack me. It's a war thing I guess, like every time I hear a pop, I think it's a gunshot and my hand goes immediately to my waist, searching for my gun. The gun I can no longer carry.
After I'm done with the dishes I force myself to go upstairs. I need my clothes and a shower. She must be on the bedroom, and I feel self conscious about walking in there. I'm right, she's sitting on the bed, her back to me. Her hair is hanging loose and I can tell she's wearing a silk robe. I don't even want to imagine what's underneath that. The door creaks a bit, and she's startled, looking above her shoulder, at me.
"I just need… clothes and a shower." I start to look for the pajamas they picked for me.
"You can use the shower. I'm done."
"Okay."
I dragged myself to the shower and locked the door. Not because I was afraid she would come in or anything, that was just something I do a lot. I just lock every door behind me, it's an instinct or something. I had to control myself not to lock the bedroom door, because that might've freaked her out. I folded my clothes before placing them over the next shelf I could find. I removed my shoes and put them on the corner next to the door, my socks inside. I have the feeling I will always be the neat freak my mother turned me into, even in the war when we were camping, I left my things organized and folded.
The cold water of the shower hits my back, and I pressed a palm against the shower tile, using my free hand to squeeze the bridge of my nose. There's this other thing about me, I always take cold showers, no matter the weather, I don't think I can feel cold anymore than I already do. I let the water hit my back, and I try to erase the day off my mind, but I know as soon as I open this bathroom door I'll have the living proof waiting for me outside. She is the living proof of what I can't run away from. She's the thing that reminds me that's no way out of this.
I grab my folded clothes and dip them on the basket in the corner of the room. I silently dress myself in the plaid pajama pants and white shirt someone from Visualize chose for me. I brush my teeth and dry my hair, never looking in the mirror. I can't look in the mirror anymore, not with so many scars that remind me of who I was, and who I'll forever be. My wife is waiting outside for me, on our bedroom, on our bed. And I know, somehow, I won't be able to sleep in that bed with her. Some nights I woke up seeking comfort from the human warmth, but this girl is so scared of me I couldn't put her through this. She wants to look confident and strong, ready for anything but I know deep down inside she's just scared.
When I open the door I see her, lying on the bad, her head properly resting against the pillow, her blond lock surrounding her face lovingly. I guess I already established she's attractive and as I man I can see myself desiring this girl, but as a person I cannot put her through any more suffering. Isn't easy for me too, share a bed with a total stranger, especially when I have so many intimacy problems. I'm afraid to even sleep next to her, because I toss and turn a lot, I scream when the nightmares find me and I tend to get violent some times. I don't want put her through this, I don't put myself through the embarrassment of letting anyone see me like that.
I walk to the bed and I can see her gulping. She nervously looks around, anywhere but at me, and still I can sense she's very aware of my every movement. I sit on the bed and rub my face with both hands.
"So? When do you want to start it?" She asks, her voice is like an angry whisper. "Should I remove my clothing or you would like to do it yourself?"
I turn around to meet her eyes, but she looks away, down at her hands.
"Samantha…"
"Sam." She interrupts me. "You can call me Sam, no one calls me Samantha. It's okay, you know, or whatever."
Her voice comes out a little sharp, like an accusation. She's trying to tell me she doesn't care, that I can't affect her, that I can't scare her. That's she's ready for everything, when the truth is so easy to see.
"Sam is good. I like it."
"Great, so now what? You want me to take it off?"
She sits up and starts to remove her robe. It's so awkward between us, it's heavy and tense. The atmosphere is clouded and I don't like it, it's starting to make me angry. Usually I try not to get angry because it leads to bad things, and I had my fair share of bad things in this life. But the way she's talking to me, and not looking at makes me angry. It's like I'm forcing her to be here, like somehow this is my fault, when clearly I'm as innocent as she is. I don't know what happened to her before she got here, but I know it made her bitter and I don't like bitterness.
"Listen…" I count to ten, trying to get myself together. "We don't have to do anything."
"You don't… like women?" She crosses her arms over her chest.
I turn my back to her, breathing in and out and counting to ten. I know she's just angry and scared because of the situation we're put in, I now she's not trying to attack me, she's just trying to protect herself. But I don't know why she's trying to make me angry. Whatever the hell her motives are, I'm not falling for it.
"It's not it."
"Then what?"
"I'm not going to do anything you don't want." I turn around again because she didn't say anything. "This doesn't have to be worse than already is. I'm not going to make your life harder, okay?
Sam stares at me for a second. Giving me time to realize the name Sam suits her better than Samantha. Sam is strong, just like her. I like Sam.
"Why? I'm strong, I can handle whatever you've got." She seems confident.
"That's not about what you can or cannot handle. We're going to be married for a long time and I don't it to be under these weird circumstances. I don't want to do something you're not into. It's wrong."
"I don't mind." She says sharply, trying to prove me I can't hurt her, I can't affect her, I can't scare her.
"I mind. It would be like forcing you into something, having my way with you, and that's not what I want."
"Isn't what you people did in the war?" Now I can tell she's angry, but scared.
The question startles me. I don't know what happened to her before she came here, but I know it wasn't good. I don't want to give her something else to feel bad about. There's something beneath her skin, something I can't quite figure out.
"No. That was not what I did. I've killed many men in my lifetime, yes, but I would never do that. It's too low, even for a killer like me."
I shouldn't be mad at her, and maybe I'm not, maybe I'm just mad at myself or whoever made her think like that. I just grab my pillow and get up.
"Where are you going?" She asks.
"I'll be in the couch," I try to sound as nonchalant as I can, "goodnight Sam."
I chose the couch because for some reason I don't want to use any of the spare rooms. They supposed to be for our future children. Each couple can have at least two of them, after that the man is forced to do vasectomy and the women do whatever they have to do to stop having kids. It doesn't feel right sleeping in those rooms, the rooms for the kids I don't even want. I throw my pillow in the couch, and realize I brought nothing to cover myself with, but that's okay because I don't feel cold. At all.
A/N: hey guys, thanks for reading and reviewing. I hope the writing isn't too sloppy, I'm not a writer and I have no idea of what I'm doing. This is just really fun!
ClashingColorsChasingRaibows - Thanks. The first chapter was solely to let people know what their world was. To understand how these characters got into this situation you had to know what happened. Now that I've made that clear the rest of the fic will be about the characters relationships and how it develops.
SAM-seddie-FREDDIE - OMG, stop it you! S. said you had the tendency to make her giggle with your reviews, now I see why. -blushing-
Daisy215 - Alright, got it! I just didn't want anyone to be confused about anything. I thought that if I explained what was going on, maybe they would understand better why these characters are going through these situations you know. But that was only the first chapter. This fic is about the relationship of Sam and Freddie under those circumstances.
jamiewalsh, pos and shannaROCKS - Thanks you guys! Omg, that's so nice of you!
jessicalove24 - Yeah I know, that was in iSeddie, one of my best friends happen to be the writer of that story, and I kind of liked she had this plot. I thought I could put Gunsoke in the story, just in a different way.
S. Benson - You... you, you, you! I took your advice and posted it. I hope you're right about this being a good idea. So far it's fun, but we'll see! Love you!
If i got anyone's names wrong, please tell me! That's it, i'm gone!
Snow Patrol - Ways And Means