Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly and I don't own the characters. I do have Superfuzz Bigmuff Plus Early Singles by Mudhoney on cassette, though, and it's freakin' awesome.

The front door of the Puckett residence swung open, and Sam and Freddie entered with bags of plumbing supplies in tow, as well as, much to Freddie's chagrin, a box of tampons from the drugstore.

"It was nice of your mom to leave that wad of cash to buy all the stuff you needed," he said in an attempt to make small talk while carefully averting his eyes from the floral-print box he dangled gingerly at arm's length. Sam insisted he carry it the whole way back from the pharmacy.

"Yeah, every once in a while she comes through," Sam answered. "I'm not gonna pretend I have any idea how she got it, though." She took a moment to admire the remaining wad, which still contained several hundred dollars, before dropping her bags down on the floor and crashing supine onto the tacky avocado green flower emblazoned couch in the middle of the porcelain nicknack stuffed living room.

Sam stretched out across the length of the sofa while Freddie eyed her quizzically. "Well, stop staring like an idiot and hop to it, boy," she commanded while placing her arms behind her head and propping one leg over the top of the couch.

"Uhh . . . Hop to what, exactly?" Freddie asked in confusion while putting his things down on the orange and burnt siena splotch patterned shag carpet.

"The hokey pokey!" Sam replied sarcastically. "Fixing my shower; what'd ya think I was talking about? For a nerd, you can be real slow sometimes," she continued as she closed her eyes.

"Oh, no. No way, Sam! I'm here to help you out, like you asked me to. That doesn't mean I do everything for you while you take a nap," Freddie huffed.

"Now is not the time to grow a spine, Fredweiner," Sam answered through a yawn. "Get a move on."

"The only 'move on' I'll be getting is out the door unless you get off that sofa," Freddie threatened.

"You wouldn't dare," Sam said drowsily while covering her still closed eyes with the crook of her arm.

"Oh yes I would," he replied defiantly as he picked up the cash, "and I'm taking the wad with me."

Sam sprang to a seated position as her eyelids shot open. When the hell did he get so assertive? she wondered, as she said, "Try that, and you'll need to drain a couple of blood banks when I'm through with you."

"To be through with me, you'll have to catch me first. Maybe you will, maybe you won't. It doesn't matter, because I know you're just bluffing, Puckett," Freddie said as he turned in the doorway and looked straight into her eyes. He continued, with more tenderness in his voice than he intended to convey, "That's okay, 'cause so am I."

Sam swallowed hard and said, "Okay, Freddork. We'll do this together. Is widdle Fweddie done with his widdle hissy fit?" she continued mockingly, unable to let him win this round.

"Are you done trying to make me do all of the work?" He still wasn't backing down.

Sam decided the best she could settle for in this situation was a draw. She looked him directly in the eyes with an inscrutable poker-faced expression. "Deal," she said, holding out her right hand and cracking a smile she hoped didn't look quite as pleasant as it felt.

"Deal," Freddie replied as he clasped his right hand to hers with a wide smile. After a moment shaking hands, Sam suddenly tightened her grip. "OW!" Freddie gasped, "What was that for?"

"Told ya now wasn't the time to grow a spine," Sam laughed. Her expression softened further. "What do you say we go check that plumbing, 'kay?" She picked up all the bags of supplies off the floor and headed for the bathroom. After a moment, Freddie followed her.

Sam opened the bathroom door, and the first thing Freddie noticed as he entered was the horrible odor. "Oh my God!" he croaked. "What is that?"

"Had to shut off the water last night," Sam answered matter-of-factly. "Then I had three black bean and brown rice burrito platters, and a couple of Jamaican jerk chicken sandwiches. You're a math dork; add 'em together and you'll get the answer."

"Yeah, but – did you have to let everything waft all night with the seat up and the door closed? And, dude . . . you're a girl. What the heck are you doing with the lid up, anyway?" Freddie wondered while breathing through his shirt.

Sam couldn't help but notice that Freddie had, perhaps for the first time, just directly referred to her as a girl to her face. "Seat down's for scaredy-cat wimpy prisses. Goin' with the seat up is a challenge. Turns takin' a dump into a magical adventure," she answered without a hint of irony. "Besides, I thought it might irritate you when I dragged you over here this morning."

"Irritate me? My eyes are burning!" Freddie gasped as tears ran down his cheeks.

"Oh, man up," Sam snapped as she closed the cream-colored lid over the seafoam-colored hopper and sprayed some Lysol around the room. "Does baby find that better?" she asked as she stroked his hair with mock concern.

"Getting there," Freddie answered after a moment. He blinked a few times and glanced around the room, now that his vision was beginning to return to normal. The Pucketts' bathroom was the only one he'd ever seen that was carpeted, and it was a feature that he still, after all these years, found incredibly strange and kind of gross. It made the room's décor, which was eccentrically dominated by color clashing rubber ducks and gaggles of glass swans, seem downright normal.

A chunk of the shower wall was knocked out, and the broken pipes were easy to identify. It was no wonder Sam had such an easy time picking out all the necessary replacement parts. There were already several wrenches, putty knives, different varieties of tape, a pile of tiles, and a soldering iron laid out in the tub. A Shop-Vac stood in the corner of the bathroom, and she'd apparently already run it this morning, as the area behind the shower was dry, while the vacuum's tank was full of water. On the rare instances Sam really set her mind to accomplish something, she was usually better prepared and fully capable of doing it better than anyone else, Freddie knew, and sight of the prep work already done in the shower drove that point home for him.

"So what do we do first?" Freddie asked.

"First, music to work to," Sam responded with an impish smile. "How 'bout something romantic?" She disappeared into the hallway, and within seconds "Touch Me I'm Sick" by Mudhoney blasted from her room.

"You call this romantic?" Freddie shouted.

"Well, I figured it was either this or some Laibach, so by comparison, sure, why not?" Sam bellowed back from down the hall.

Mark Arm's voice sneered through the speakers as Sam Puckett reappeared.

I feel bad, and I've felt worse.

I'm a creep, yeah, and I'm a jerk.

Come on

Touch me, I'm sick.

Author's Note: Little known fact – the original record single for "Touch Me I'm Sick" had a picture of a toilet on the sleeve, so I figured that makes it totally appropriate bathroom repair music. Plus, Mudhoney was one of the original "grunge" bands from Seattle. Nirvana, Pearl Jam, and Soundgarden were a bunch of poseurs by comparison.