Summary: Quinn visits her cousin Freddie, and in turn helps him discover that opposites really do attract
Summary: Quinn visits her cousin Freddie, and in turn helps him discover that opposites really do attract. Seddie and Quogan. iCarly and Zoey 101 crossover. Thanks a zillion to Her Name Is Erika.
Disclaimer: Idon't own iCarly or Zoey 101. Dang it!
A/N: Oh yes, my two favorite stories in one. This will be fun.:)
We Always Argue
Chapter 4
The next morning, I wake up to the sound of 'Follow Me,' Zoey's ring tone she'd set for herself. I reach for the side table in the guest room, accidentally knocking the math homework I completed in two minutes last night off onto the floor. Finally, my hands fall on my glasses. I put them over my tired eyes and catch sight of my phone, which, by this time, is approximately one ring away from going to voicemail.
"Hello Zoey," I say when I pick it up, happy to hear from her but tired nonetheless.
"Hey Quinn, sorry if I woke you up." She says sincerely. "I have to wake up at six-thirty every morning for my Cabana job, so I forget that other people sleep happily." I glance at the clock on the wall across the room. It is seven-thirty AM.
"Oh, it's fine." I respond. "How are you? How's your job?"
"It's great. Lots of sun and tropical things." She says, sounding like she really is having fun in Hawaii. And I'm glad. She deserves to relax. She, along with me, had an extremely dramatic junior year. "It's so funny watching Chase work though. Yesterday he was carrying a pile of towels and he slipped on – "
"I thought we said we weren't gonna tell people!" I hear Chase groan in the background.
"It's too funny to pass up, and you know it." She says back to him. They're really cute, Chase and Zoey. They're very much a fairytale, and if you were to place their relationship next to mine and Logan's, it'd be quite a laugh. Because we're just so different from them. "Anyway Quinn, he slipped on a tuna sandwich and crashed into our boss, who's now claiming a fear of towels." Pause. "Traumatizing, huh?"
"Yep." I laugh.
"So listen," she says in that voice. The Zoey voice. The one that everyone who knows Zoey Brooks probably hears when they're about to do bad things. "I got your email." Oh right, I forgot. I'd emailed her about my plan concerning 'The Seddie Theory.'
"Oh?"
"Yeah." She says uncertainly. "Look, Quinn, you know I love you and your scientific brain, but…" Here it comes. "Don't you think this idea might have some negative outcomes?"
"Well, maybe!" I say, trying to defend myself. "But they really do need a push or something, Zoey. They are both excruciatingly stubborn."
"I just don't think you should get involved with your cousin's love life." She states. I can just picture her motherly face. It makes me miss her and feel annoyed all that the same time. I know this is a good idea. Those are the only kinds of ideas that my brain is able to successfully generate.
"This coming from someone who used to follow around her little brother, making sure he looked cool and forcing Chase to talk him out of dating unacceptable girls?"
"I've gotten better." Zoey rebuttals. "I know you're trying to do something nice, but Quinn, they're not lab rats. You can't just go experimenting on them!"
"I'm only compiling facts so Freddie will believe me if the time comes that I need to resort to telling him."
After a few moments of silence, she sighs. "Okay, Quinn. Just think about what I said though."
"Fine, mother." I reply playfully. The smell of pancakes fills the air, and I realize that I should probably head downstairs for breakfast with Aunt Amber and Freddie. I'm going to Freddie's school, did I mention that? I'm volunteering in a teacher's office, filing some papers for a teacher…I think her name is Miss Biggs? Or Friggs? I'm not certain. But I am certain that I'm receiving a total of sixty dollars in completing the task, so I don't care what teacher it is. "I've got to run. I'll talk to you soon!"
"Promise me no explosions."
"Party pooper."
After hanging up, I hop out of bed and, after taking a quick shower, I change into a pair of jeans and a white and black checkered T-shirt. And then I remember why I'm so tired; I'd stayed up all night installing a camera in my glasses to further pursue 'Seddie' research. Right.
So I flick on the camera and I'm downstairs a few seconds later. Aunt Amber and Freddie are sitting at the table eating some very handsome pancakes. I take a seat next to my Aunt, and she smiles at me.
"Good morning, Quinn." She says cheerfully. "How was your sleep?"
"I slept well, thanks." I tell her politely as I help myself to some pancakes. My Aunt gets up and disappears into the kitchen to make more food. As if on cue, the door bursts open, revealing a feisty blonde and her friend.
"Hey," Carly says to my cousin and I. Sam echoes her, and then sniffs the air, smiling.
"I smell pancakes!" Sam says in a sing-song voice. "Give 'em here." She holds out a hand. Wouldn't she want a plate? I guess not.
"I don't see your name on any of these pancakes." Freddie tells her matter-of-factly.
"Well, Freddie, your name isn't on them either." Carly points out.
"She does have a point…" I agree.
"You're my cousin!" he argues. "Don't people usually side with people that share similar blood?!"
"Just fork over the food, dork." Sam orders.
"Fine." He says sharply. "But it's not all you can eat." I watch as Sam takes five pancakes. "Sam!"
"What?! That's not all I can eat!" she argues, gesturing to her overpopulated plate. "I can eat way more than this!"
"Sam, I don't think he meant – " Carly begins to explain, but Freddie cuts her off.
"Do you want any pancakes, Carly?" he asks eagerly.
"No!" she says, annoyed, and then immediately regrets it when she sees his face. "No, Freddie, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. Thanks." She takes a pancake. "It's just…you guys are driving me crazy these days! Get along, will ya?!"
"Not possible." Sam shrugs.
"For once, I concur." Freddie nods.
"See?!" Sam gestures to him. "Anyone who uses words like 'concur' is just asking to be picked on!"
"At least I have a vocabulary!"
"At least I have a life!"
"At least I don't spend mine eating ham!"
Yikes.
"That's it!" Carly bangs her fist onto the table, causing everyone, including myself, to jump. "You guys can't even go ten seconds without tearing at each other's self-esteem! It's ridiculous, and I'm sick of it! I'm not speaking to either of you until you resolve your issues." She crosses her legs and folds her arms, looking away. I feel bad for her. It must be hard having her two best friends fight all the time. Freddie and Sam glance away frustrated, and O suddenly feel the tension in the room. There's a lot of it.
The silence is interrupted by Aunt Amber returning to the room. "Are you children ready for school?"
Thump.
A large stack of papers lands loudly on the table in Miss Biggs' (I think it's Biggs…) office, where I'm currently sitting. I jump slightly, and glance upwards at the previous holder of the sack.
"Oh, hi." I say politely, noticing it's a red-headed, somewhat angry-looking teacher before me. "You must be Miss Biggs – "
"Briggs!" she snaps. "Francine Briggs."
"Right, sorry." I apologize, starting to realize that she's probably not a nice person. I stretch out my hand. "Anyway, I'm – "
"Fredward's cousin. Yes, I know!" she snaps again, glancing at her watch and then back at me suspiciously. "Look, I don't like your kind! Just get these student records sorted by three thirty sharp, when my bagpipe le – day off - ends! Kapeesh?!" I raise an eyebrow.
"Sure." I say half-heartedly.
She smirks. "Very good." She snaps her fingers. "Bring 'em in, boys!" I watch with horror as two maintenance men trudge in, each carrying two sacks. Four sacks of papers.
"B-but Miss Riggs - !" I begin to argue, wide-eyed, as the men leave (I envy them).
"Briggs!" she hisses.
"It's highly improbable that I'll complete the sorting of all these papers in…" I check my watch. "Four hours!"
"Then I suppose it's highly improbable that you'll receive your money." She shoots back. "Have fun!" And then she leaves.
Yeah, I believe that she is definitely not a nice person.
Sighing, I get started on the first bag before me. I grab a slip of paper from the sack.
4/12/06 – Samantha Puckett gives Fredward Benson a total of five wedgies and makes an attempt to hang him from the school flagpole.
I small laugh falls out, thinking about how coincidental it is that I'd come upon one of Sam's bad deeds. I stand up from the table and walk to the cabinet of student files (Einstein knows why the records are stored in Miss Briggs' room), and, after reaching Ps and then Pu's, I find Sam's file…in it's own drawer, and place it in. One down, two million to go.
I sit back down and pull out the next slip up paper. Apparently, Miss Briggs' way of keeping records of bad behavior is writing them down day by day in a highly unorganized fashion. What a crazy woman.
5/23/07 – Samantha Puckett writes 'BRIGGS BELONGS IN THE BRIG' in the main hallway, slams Fredward Benson into a locker, and flushes the homework of Gilbert – Gibby – Rogers, down the toilet.
Okay, now that is just odd. Raising an eyebrow, I randomly grab at other papers in the sack – Sam talks back to teacher, Sam skips twenty detentions. Sam this, Sam that….okay, I am confused.
But my confusion is soon lifted when I catch a glimpse of the letters written out on the front of the sack: SAMANTHA PUCKETT. That explains it. Sam has a whole bag to herself.
That is just crazy. Looking through the sack, I notice that Miss Briggs penalizes Sam for incredibly stupid things as well – standing near the fire alarm, yawning before class, yawning after class, yawning during class, walking by Gibby…and a lot of other pointless stuff.
Smiling deviously, I throw the entire bag into the recycling bin outside her office. Simply for the sake of the planet, and global warming, and – oh, for Newton's sake, Miss Briggs is a tyrant! I feel it's justified!
I spend the next two hours melting my brain, erm, sorting out Miss Briggs papers, except I make sure to dispose of any ludicrous statements.
I am telling you right now, no child deserves detention for owning a pet snake. I happen to own a pet snake, and he is kind and gentle! Well, not to rats, but…okay, moving on.
Upon completing bag two of four, I hear someone come in, and I look up, startled.
"Hey, miss me?" Are my eyes deceiving me?! Is he really here?! Nooo! No way! This is incredible!
"Logan?!"
"And Michael!" Michael hops out of nowhere, smiling like he does. I have never in my life been more happy to see them!
"Oh my goodness! You guys are here early!" I jump from the Briggs seat of torture and into the arms of my friend and, well, special friend.
"And apparently just in time…" Michael scrunches up his face, looking at all the scattered papers. "Did a paper factory explode in here or something?"
"Kind of." I mutter bitterly. Logan's smiling like an idiot, and then I remember he's my idiot, so I no longer care. "I can't believe you came early for me! Well, I can, but – "
"It's not like I had anything better to do." He shrugs. I nod slowly, glancing at Michael, hoping he'll take a hint of some sort to leave for a second. Michael just nods happily, sighing to himself, and pulls the two of us into a hug.
"Look at you two!" he says to us enthusiastically. I smile sheepishly, and Logan looks like he's going to kill him. "Who would've thought!? Quinn and Logan! Now that is drippin'!"
"I. Can't. Breathe." I hear Logan mutter. "Let go of me before I hurt you." He lets go but ignores Logan's moderately threatening statement.
"Oh, be nice." I scold, rolling my eyes.
"I am being nice." He scoffs, folding his arms.
"Wait," Something clicks in my mind. "How are you guys even here?! Where are you staying? I haven't even asked Freddie if you could stay yet!"
"We stopped by at the address you forwarded." Michael shrugged. "All we had to say was that we were friends of yours, and we needed a tick-free place to stay for a few days, and she was in. We're staying in the vacant apartment next to the Benson's."
"Oh, whatever, I'm just so happy to see you guys!" I give a double-hug and whisper 'especially you' to Logan. He smirks.
"Oh, I know." I raise an eyebrow and thump him on the head. As he yells 'ow', it's my turn to smirk. Go me.
"Would you like some help with the mess?" Michael questions comically.
I smile back, gratefully. "I would."
Logan, still rubbing his head, adds, "I guess I'll give an effort…for you."
"It's much appreciated." I grin towards him more, and he flashes one my way. It sort of, kind of makes me happy to be alive.
Michael and Logan – I still can't believe they're staying for the rest of the week! – stay for about an hour, and together we complete the organization of the third sack.
Or I guess you could say we had a paperball fight.
Okay, yes, we did. I admit it. But Logan can be very persuasive, okay?! It's not my fault! And the important thing is, the papers aren't within sight…
Soon, the two have to leave, to pick up movie supplies for Logan's father. So I tell them I'll see them later, and to stop by so I can introduce Logan to his long-lost sister (Sam).
Halfway through the final bag of unnecessary records, I'm surprised to see my cousin carefully shutting the door and coming in, glancing around as if Miss Briggs might jump from the walls and stamp 'F' all over his face.
For 'fail,' not 'Freddie.'
"Hey," I greet, opening the A drawer in the cabinet. I insert a girl's record and walk back over to the table. Then I frown. "Isn't it around lunch time?"
"Uh…yeah…" he says hesitantly, trying to pretend it's completely normal for teenage boy to be seeking out his cousin when he's supposed to be with his friends.
"Then why are you here?" I press, reaching into the sack and pulling out a piece of paper. Apparently Jonah Gray gave Reuben Smith a wedgie last year…
"Well, you know…" he begins to explain, in a slow manner. "I just…wanted to spend time with my cousin! And help you with Miss Briggs' papers!"
"Oh really?" I raise an eyebrow, not buying it in the least.
He nods, trying to be convincing. "Yup."
"Carly's still not talking to you, huh?" Yeah, I have it all figured out.
"It's that obvious?"
"As obvious as the square root of fifteen thousand one hundred twenty nine!" He stares, confused. I sigh. "It's one twenty three! One-two-three! Get it?" His face scrunches up. "Oh, never mind. Come help."
Freddie grabs some papers and walks over to the cabinets, his back turned, as I try to sort out a pile of papers by name. "It's driving me crazy, Quinn. I can't stand not talking to Carly! And it's not even for a decent reason!" He whirls around angrily. "This is all Sam's fault! She just has to insult me, no matter what I say or do! It's like she's permanently – !"
"Stapled 'dork' to your forehead?" I finish knowingly. He pauses for a second, puzzled.
"Have I…said that before?" he questions, confused.
I shrug. "Once or twice." Or fifty times.
We work on the papers for a few silent minutes, and Freddie looks deep in thought the whole way through. I take it as an opportunity to bring up something I've been meaning to ask.
"So Freddie, I was wondering…" He gives me a panicked look. "No, this isn't about an experiment!" Well, not exactly… He looks relieved.
"Then what?"
"What do you think of Sam?"
His eyes narrow in anger. "Have you not been listening to how she's – "
"Ruining your life, 'dork' on your forehead, wedgies, insults, yes, yes, I know, I know!" I say quickly. "But what about just her?" He doesn't look like he understands, and I understand why he doesn't understand. I've known Freddie almost all of my life, and if there's anything I've learned, it's that he has a very one-sided way of looking at things. Blue is blue. Flowers are flowers. The sky is the sky. He doesn't see how different blue can look, or that flowers are also homes and comfort, and how the sky can represent so many things in the world. So my guess is he thinks: Sam acts mean, therefore she's mean. He doesn't see any other reason for her to constant attack him. He doesn't realize that he might be ignoring who Sam (and, really, Carly) really is. "Like, is she a nice person? Is she fun to be around? Do you think she's pretty?" The last one comes out spontaneously, but his reaction is quite funny, and not what I expected. He actually looks uncertain.
"I-Idon't know…" he says, thinking. "I mean, yeah, I guess but…"
"But what?" I ask curiously.
"She's…" he really looks like he's searching for the correct words, ones that will ring true to Sam. "She's her own kind of nice, and fun, and…pretty…it's hard to explain. She's hard to explain." I look down, noticing that we've finished organizing the final pile of papers. "But she's not as pretty as Carly!" For some reason, I feel like the statement is just thrown in there. Not forced…just…as if he felt it had to be there.
Like, if it wasn't there, things would be different between the two of them.
A/N: So Logan and Michael are here. That's good, right?!
Heh, Sam with her own sack of Briggs' decrees. I had a good laugh thinking 'bout that one.
I hope you liked this chapter! Gosh, I love writing Freddie and Quinn as cousins!
Excuse any errors, please! I'm tired and only human!
I've been having so much homework. But hey (WARNING, SPOILERS FOR IOWE YOU), didn't you guys love the moment in iOwe You when Sam was like "I don't want Freddie to see me cry…" And then later when he came back in and Sam screeched at him. HAHA!
-Colors