A/N: For anyone who might even remember this fic, it's been a very, very long time since I updated it. Life has been crazy, and I've been working on other things, but I made up my mind tonight to get this chapter done, because I owe it to you readers, if there are any left. So without further ado, Chapter 4. I warn you now that it's nothing special, more my way of getting back into the story. I promise there won't be an 11 month gap between the next update either.
Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly.
Chapter 4
Back to the Drawing Board
Freddie's POV
"We're engaged!"
And so began another chapter in the Freddie Benson Book of Bad Luck. Of all the nights that Gibby could have proposed to Carly, it just had to be the same night I was planning on proposing to my own girlfriend. It took pretty much all the self restraint that I had not to explode. I reminded myself that I was a grown man, and that Sam was the only person our age that could get away with throwing fits like a child. The only thing that made it a touch better was the fact that my disappointment wasn't because Sam had said no.
Staring blankly at the scene in front of me, I felt Sam pull from my grip. She and Carly met in the middle of the room, squeezing each other tight. It was a wonder that they could still breathe. There was jumping around and squealing, something that Sam only does in Carly's presence. I watched as Carly thrust her hand out and they gushed about the ring.
A part of me wanted to hit Gibby, but I knew how ridiculous that would be. He hadn't known that I was planning to propose tonight. No one did. Instead, I decided that for tonight, I could forget about my ruined plans. I made my way over to him and shook his hand, congratulating him. As the girls continued their inspection of the ring, he told me about how nervous he'd been, and how now it felt like the weight had been lifted off his shoulders. As he spoke, all I could think about was the fact that the weight on mine seemed to be growing heavier by the second.
When the girls finally seperated from each other, the four of us decided that we'd go out to dinner the next night to celebrate the engagement.
Dinner went well, including a very normal, heartfelt speech from Gibby. By the end of the night, I'd completely gotten over the anger caused by my ruined proposal.
After our dinner, I had a few things to finish for work, so I headed up to the iCarly studio, which we'd turned into a four way office when we moved back to Seattle. It wasn't really practical for us to keep a studio for a webshow that didn't exist anymore. The only thing that looked the same was Spencer's car sculpture, which we'd kept for old time's sake. Plus, Sam really liked napping in it.
I worked on what I needed to for about two hours before my eyes felt like they were going to fall out of their sockets. As I closed my laptop, my eyes settled on the picture of Sam I kept on my desk, one I'd taken a few years ago. We'd been at the park, and I'd managed to make her laugh at something I said. It was one of the few times she'd found something I said funny, and I decided it needed to be captured on film. Sam hated the picture, and every time she went up to the office to type up a review, she'd stow the picture in one of my drawers.
Staring at the picture, I thought back to everything we'd been through. I knew I was back to square one, but in a way, the timing of Gibby's proposal was a godsend. It gave me more time to prepare, and more time to make sure it was the proposal Sam would want. I saw how happy she was in the picture, and I knew I had to make her that happy again.
I packed up my work things and made my way downstairs to Spencer's old bedroom, where Sam and I stayed. I wasn't surprised to find her sprawled across the bed fast asleep. She was mumbling about fried chicken, which I knew from experience that she only did when she was exhausted. I've also known her long enough to know that you never wake Sam when she's fast asleep. It's hazardous to your health.
Luckily, when we had bought furniture for the apartment, I'd invested in a large, plush chair for occassions such as these. I threw myself down and opened my laptop, hoping that inspiration would strike. I was getting to the point that if I didn't figure out a good way to propose soon, I was just going to throw the ring at Sam and beg her not to beat me up too badly.
For old times sake, I clicked on the slideshow I made for our last ever episode of iCarly. There were hundreds of pictures. There were screenshots from shows, and pictures from school and other vacations we'd been on together.
It was odd watching as we grew up on the screen. I went from being the shortest of the bunch to towering over the girls. There were pictures of dances and things we'd done on iCarly. There was a whole reel of bad things we'd done to Nevel, and a few shots of people who'd been on the wrong end of the butter sock. Those were some of my favorites, especially since I'd been lucky enough to never be a victim. It was one of the few rules Carly made for the butter sock, and back then, I could have kissed her for it.
After a few screen shots of an old episode, Spencer appeared on my screen in a large dinosaur beach tube. Instantly, I knew what beach trip the photo had been taken. It was the day that changed my life. The day that everything changed between Sam and I. There weren't many pictures from that day, but all at once, I knew what I had to do. I knew exactly where I had to take Sam to pull off a proposal that even she couldn't refuse.
It was only March, and beach season wasn't for a few months, but now that I had some idea of how I was going to go about this, I felt much better about the situation.
When the weather finally got warmer, I'd plan a big trip the beach, and invite Carly, Gib, Spencer and Addison. My mind was racing, and the sleep I'd felt only an hour earlier was nowhere to be found. I knew it might be a sleepless night for me, but now that I'd found inspiration, I didn't even care.
The pictures on my screen continued to change, but I couldn't be bothered with them anymore. Instead, I sat there staring at the blonde headed demon that I planned on making my wife, with what I'm sure was a dopey grin on my face.
The next day while Sam was at work, I took a trip to see Addison. She was the only one who knew about my proposal predicament, and I knew she'd be excited to hear that I'd figured things out.
She ushered me into the house, and past a large sculpture of a cow made of pipe cleaners. When I stopped to look at it, she waited, rolling her eyes.
"My husband, the preschooler." Even though she was making a face, you could tell how much she loved him. I was glad that Spencer had finally found someone who could appreciate him for how he was, and not just things like his Pac-Rat skills.
"Come on, Ad. This is at least first grade material." I nudged her in the side and recieved another eye roll.
We sat down in the kitchen and as I spoke, Addison continued whatever she was making on the stove.
"So I figured out where I'm going to propose." My statement caused her to fling her spoon up in the air, resulting in globs of spaghetti sauce flying through the air.
"You did!" She squealed, and I silently thanked the gods that Sam was never a squealer. "Tell me, tell me!"
"When it gets warmer, I'm going to plan a trip to the beach. That's how our whole relationship started, and I figure it's a good place to take things to the next level. Do you think that's stupid?"
"Of course it's not stupid! Can I come? I need to witness this, Freddie." At this point, she was hopping up and down, a habit she most definitely learned from Spencer, and I knew enough not to deny her.
"I want it to be the six of us, that way we can celebrate when, well if, she says yes."
We spent the next hour thinking of ways to ask, and I had to tell the story of our day at the beach at least five times, before Spencer came home and interrupted us. I knew enough from the ring blabbing that I couldn't let anything slip in his presence.
Now I just had to be patient enough to wait for the warmth, and then hopefully, my favorite girl would be mine forever.