iGo Camping
Spencer/Freddie pre-slash, friendship; eventual angst/romance
Chapter 3
A/N: A special thanks to Shinji Matsuto and EnchantixFae for their encouragement!
This story was written without consent or affiliation with iCarly, it's creators or owners. Written for entertainment purposes only.
-.-
I had a hard time keeping my eyes open Monday morning. Spencer and I were up until nearly 4am cleaning his apartment. He seemed to really appreciate the help, so I didn't scoot back to my room until the place looked livable. I took a short nap before waking again to shower and dress for school, which I did in a daze. Carly drove, Thank God. And we made it safely and in time for our exams.
Scanning the English exam with a lop-sided grin, I drifted in and out of consciousness. A lack of sleep wasn't the only thing trying my focus. My thoughts were a jumble of colorful wings and books with blank pages.
I had to choose three of five essay questions to answer for the exam. We were given three hours to complete this. Easy. I began the exam with confidence, but quickly shifted into panic-mode. It seemed that every time I blinked, another twenty minutes would slip through my fingers. Unfortunately, I couldn't escape the exam even in my sleep. I was dreaming about gothic romances and terrifying childhoods.
I woke confused. My exam booklet was filled with scribble as the proctor informed us we had reached the half-way mark. Scrambling, I wrote down as much as I could about Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, and I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. I wasn't sure if I was answering any of the questions, but I unloaded my knowledge about character development, symbolism, and plot devices until I had filled the blue essay booklet.
Cramming one last sentence into a margin, I looked up at the clock. I had five minutes to spare. I would usually take the time to reread my answers, but not today. I was scared of what I might find written in the pages of my exam book. I didn't want to know that I had failed my first final exam and could do nothing to rectify that. I wondered if I could fake a seizure and use that excuse to retake the exam at a later date. Even as I fantasized about my grand mal, the proctor rang her bell.
"Writing utensils, down. Books, closed. Pass everything to the front." Her voice was flat, bored.
My head hung in shame as I passed my and my classmates' packets forward. The only good thing about exam week was the short school days. I was mildly grateful for the opportunity to go straight home and get some rest. It wasn't until I stepped into the hallway to find Carly heading into another classroom that I realized I would have to return in three hours to pick her up.
Eh, I could squeeze in a short nap, I figured silently.
I drove home as carefully as I could, still unsure of what was dream and what reality. My legs dragged through the lobby and over to the elevator. Lewbert was shouting something as I pushed the glowing button on the wall. I turned, slowly, to face him. His arms waved wildly, but his voice was muffled by my exhaustion.
"Out of order, kid!" Lewbert scurried around his desk and blocked me from entering the elevator. "No go," he exclaimed as the elevator doors binged open.
What? I blinked a few times to bring life into focus. I looked into Lewbert's face and then into the empty elevator shaft. My breath caught in my throat. I stepped backwards away from the heavy doors. Finding Lewbert's face again, I nodded in shock, "Thanks, man." I walked to the stairwell and forced myself up the flights to my floor. My hands gripped the railing as I pulled myself up the final flight of stairs. I just wanted to be home.
Reaching my apartment door, I breathed a sigh of relief. I let myself into my living room and crashed on the couch. Sleep hit me immediately. I slept like a rock and it felt wonderful. I could hear a faint thumping in the distance, but the beat lulled me farther into my dreams.
When my mother burst through the door in a state of heightened anxiety, I knew I was in trouble. My lazy mind couldn't figure out what I had done, but I knew it was bad. "Hi?" I greeted my mother cautiously.
"Oh, don't you 'Hi' me, Fredward Benson." Her mouth was drawn in a hard line as her hands clamped onto her hips.
"Uh," I sat up straighter and caught a glimpse of the clock behind her. Five o'clock? My mother hardly ever makes it home before six. "Oh, shit."
Her fingers snapped in front of my face, startling me. "Language!"
I dragged a hand over my face, willing myself awake. I hope Carly found a way home from school. "Sorry, ma'am."
My mom's face softened as she licked a hanky and tried to wipe the corners of my mouth. I grimaced, but allowed her to baby me in private. It calmed her nerves to see me as the dependent son. "You don't have to apologize to me, Freddie." She sighed, "We just didn't know what happened to you. You didn't answer your phone or the door… We're just glad you're alright."
We? I glanced out the open door and into the empty hallway.
She continued to fuss about the state of my hair and flattened my collar. "Spencer called me all in a tizzy when you didn't show to pick Carly up from school. She thought you would be waiting in the library."
I groaned as I realized how terrible my day was turning out to be. Mumbling more apologies to my mother, I pulled myself off the couch and made for the apartment across the hall.
I reached for the doorknob out of habit before pulling back. I decided to knock first.
The door opened immediately, as if someone had been waiting for me behind it. Sam grinned evilly from within the apartment. "Hello, Failure."
I resisted the urge to sock her in the gut. I reminded myself that she probably kept Carly company while they waited for a ride. "Hey," I said curtly.
Sam granted my entrance to the apartment before joining Carly on the couch. They were eating fruit kabobs and watching cartoons. Carly had an open History textbook in her lap. "Hi, Freddie," Carly greeted me with only a little resentment in her voice.
"I'm really sorry, Carly." I watched her trying to ignore me. "I was up late helping Spencer and I fell asleep…" My mouth drew itself into a deep frown as I confessed to possibly failing my English exam.
I caught Spencer lurking in my periphery and immediately felt worse. He probably thinks I am blaming him for everything. Since Carly and Sam were still ignoring me, I left them in the living room and trailed Spencer toward his bedroom.
"Spencer," I knocked lightly on the doorframe of his room.
Spencer was sitting at the edge of his unmade bed, looking up at me with his hands folded in his lap. His expression was unreadable, so I tried a small smile. He shrugged in response, "Franklin Todd loved the sculpture."
My face relaxed into a more natural expression, "He would've been an idiot if he felt anything less." I sat beside Spencer and nudged him with an elbow.
"I shouldn't have woken you up last night." His eyes told a sad story that his lips wouldn't permit.
"No worries, man." I wasn't sure if he would continue or if he was looking to me to change the subject. I waited a minute more before filling the silence, "Camping trip is only two weeks away."
Spencer bit his lip before forcing a grin. I hated that grin the moment I saw it. "Yeah. That's coming up, isn't it?"
I struggled not to jump into a defensive mode. "I thought you were looking forward to it." It was hard to mask the accusation from my voice.
"I am," Spencer said convincingly, pulling me roughly to face him. "Freddie, I am looking forward to camping with you." He paused to take a deep breath, "There's just… stuff I need to straighten out. I wanted to be rid of this… problem… before I left the country."
Eh? I had no idea what Spencer was talking about and I had never experienced him acting so obscure. He usually wore his heart on his sleeve, and I admired that about him. I was not a fan of secretive!Spencer. Mindful of my expression, I kept my posture open and urged him to continue, "Tell me."
I didn't think he was going to open up to me so easily, but I guess when you have only a handful of friends it's hard not to take an opportunity to vent when it's offered. Spencer began, "I'm sorry I kept you up all night, but I meant what I said. I couldn't have finished that piece without you."
I nodded, but remained silent.
"Socko was over here last night." Spencer groaned, remembering the events of the evening. "He was upset because between working on the sculpture and getting ready for the trip, I haven't been spending much time with him."
Okay. Carly and I had gone through a similar situation when Sam was dating Jonah. Sam was almost never around, and when she was her attention was preoccupied. I could understand a friend getting angry at that.
"Usually we hang out at his place," Spencer continued. "Well, as you know, I needed to finish that sculpture, so I invited him here. He could be with me while I worked." Another sigh, "I thought he would appreciate that, at least."
"He didn't want to sit around while your attention was on the sculpture," I offered before clamping my mouth shut.
Spencer gave a brief nod. "I think he wants to… I don't think he will be my friend for much longer."
I gave Spencer an encouraging pat on the back, "Don't worry about it. He'll come around. And if not, you'll make new friends." Gosh, I sound like my mom.
Spencer shook his head and reclined against his pillows. His feet pressed against my legs in a cramped way. I moved around the bed, giving his legs room to stretch out. I settled into a spot next to him in his new position.
He looked over at me with a sad smile, "It's not that easy, kiddo."
I sighed with him, not knowing what else to say. We turned our attention to the beams in the ceiling; both of us reclining comfortably on pillows at the headboard.
I imagined a dark sky lit with stars and the sounds of nature. Closing my eyes I inhaled deeply, almost tasting the fresh mountain air.
"Don't worry about that trip, bud." Spencer said softly as if in tune with my thoughts. "I wouldn't trade that for the world." His hand brushed mine as he adjusted himself on the bed and something squirmed in my stomach, sending a jolt past my belt buckle.
I sat up, startled, clutching my hand over my mid-section. Where did that come from?
A deep rumble came from my stomach, eliciting light laughter from the man beside me.
"Hungry, kiddo?" Spencer brought himself to his feet and offered a hand to pull me off the bed. "Come on, I have some leftovers we can heat up."
I hesitated before taking his hand, which is silly, I know. He didn't notice my caution as I braced myself before grabbing his hand. What did I expect would happen? Whatever I was worried about never occurred. Spencer pulled me to my feet and released my hand immediately.
He nuked spaghetti and shoveled it into a taco shell, plopped the sloppy meal on a plastic dish and set it in front of me at the table. I was happy to accept the taco and ate greedily. I hadn't realized I was so hungry, thought I didn't remember eating anything all day.
When he handed me a glass of orange juice to wash it down, I deliberately overlapped our fingers to prove to myself I was overreacting. Spencer's hands were warm, soft, delicate and definitely not sending out bolts of electricity. Nothing weird about that, I told myself before taking a sip of juice.
I didn't give another thought about Spencer's touch. Not about the way Spencer's fingers tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear, or the feel of his knees as they bumped against mine under the table. Not another thought.
