Thanks to her seven-hour nap on the way to the hotel, Carly did not get much sleep that night. In fact, she may have been able to stay awake if she hadn't forced herself to get a couple hours of sleep. She didn't want to throw off her sleeping schedule too much during this vacation, especially around the likes of Gibby and Sam, whom she was positive would not care about her being "too tired" and would drag her around their respective towns, no matter what.

She also resolved to be a better travel companion to Freddie. She had been asleep almost the entire drive yesterday, which could not have been much fun for him at all. She would make sure to remain awake the entire time to talk, joke around, play car games with, or just keep silent company and remain up and alert with him, as he did not have the option of drifting off to sleep as the driver. After all he's done for her, she thought, it was the least she could do for him.

She had only managed to get a little over four hours of sleep, which was good enough for her, as far as she was concerned. The hotel alarm buzzed dutifully at 6:00 a.m., waking Carly almost immediately. She pressed random buttons until she stumble upon the one labeled "silence" and swung her feet to the carpeted floor. Feeling much better than she did yesterday, she smiled and turned on the light, then allowed a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the room before making her way to the bathroom. She glanced at the door to Freddie's suite and noticed that the light was not on. She shrugged, figuring that Freddie may not be waking up until 6:30, and entered the bathroom.

After brushing her teeth, washing her face, and straightening her hair, she changed into pair of medium blue skinny jeans and a soft pink blouse that hung loosely from her frame over a dark purple spaghetti strap tank. She looked at Freddie's door again. Still no light. She looked at the clock, which read 6:36 a.m. Suspecting that he may have overslept, she went to the door and lightly knocked on it. Before she could yell his name, the door creaked open at the contact of her closed fist. Like Carly, Freddie must not have bothered to lock the door. She considered whether or not it would be a good idea to just walk in the room. Though she didn't want to invade his privacy, time was of the essence and they had to get on the road soon if they wanted to make it to Omaha at a reasonable hour. Hesitantly, she opened the door a little further and peeked inside the room. Freddie was out cold, spread carelessly on his stomach over the quilted blanked on the bed. She tip-toed into the room, getting closer and closer to the sleeping young man. She quickly made her way to the right side of the bed, where he was facing. A light snore escaped from his lips, which she found adorable and equally hilarious, as he has always denied that he snored. With his hair in all directions, a sleeping Freddie did make a very cute picture. Reluctantly, she tried to wake him up.

"Freddie," she called in low voice, gently shaking him in efforts not to startle him. Other then a slight twitch of his nose, he did not respond.

"Freeeedie," she repeated, a little louder and with a firmer shake. In reply, he made a unintelligible grunt and turned his head to the other side, snuggling deeper into the pillow. Carly put her hands on her hips and grinned in amusement, finding humor in the fact that he was the one who insisted on getting up this early, yet she was the one who was ready to go at any moment. She looked at him again with consideration and thought briefly about what she should do in order to get him up. With a smile, climbed onto the bed.

She decided to do to Freddie what Spencer would do to her when they were younger and he had difficulty getting her up: making sure not to trample his body, she stood on bed and began jumping exuberantly.

"FRED-DIE!" She yelled, as she hopped. "Get up! We-have-to-go-see-GIB-BY!" Each word was punctuated with a leap. She could vaguely hear Freddie groaning over the loud creaking of the mattress.

"Really, Carly?" Freddie moaned, his head turned facing the jumping brunette.

"Yes, Freddie! Are you awake yet?" she asked with a laugh. Without warning, Freddie reflexively grabbed one of her ankles while she was in midair, bringing her crashing down to the bed. Freddie quickly flipped himself over, grabbed the ankle again and tugged it upward so that he could tickle the bottom of her foot. She squirmed at the contact, squealing and howling with laughter.

"Ack! Fre-heh-die!" The laughter was making it harder to breath.

"Would you agree that I'm awake now?" Freddie asked, also laughing as she attempted to kick free from his strong grip.

"YES! You win! Ack! Look! I'm tapping out!" she conceded, physically tapping on the bed, signaling her defeat. Freddie gave one last pinch to her pinky toe before letting go of her ankle. She scrambled off the bed in fear that he would tickle her again.

"That, Miss Shay, was obnoxious!" Freddie said, swing himself into the sitting position at the edge of the bed.

"Don't you mean 'irresistibly adorable?'" she countered sweetly as she walked out the door, giving him an innocent smile over her shoulder.

Freddie chuckled fondly. "Yeah, that too."


Freddie didn't take long to get ready and by 7:07, they were on the road (with only two brief stops at a gas station and Skybucks). The first couple of hours flew by with the help of upbeat conversation. They talked about school, what they wanted to do after graduation, and all the things they would make sure to do the next time they were in Seattle. Then they started reminiscing about the good times they had when they were younger.

"I still can't believe you were going to let Gibby fight me during an international webcast!" Freddie cried indignantly.

Carly let out a hearty laugh. "I wouldn't have let it get too serious. Plus, Sam had convinced me that it was what the audience wanted. Besides, you were the one that said we should get our numbers up by 'any means necessary,' remember?"

"Not at the cost of my face!"

"Oh, you're still such a baby about it."

Freddie shook his head, then laughed good-naturedly. Just then, Carly was struck with an idea. She gasped, then pulled out her phone from her bag. After about a minute, she began typing furiously. Freddie looked at her questioningly.

"Is something up?" he asked.

"I just got an idea!" she answered, unable to reign in the excitement in her voice. "I just tweeted an invitation for our fans to tweet a dare for Gibby to do when we see him. We can film it and air it on the show this weekend!"

"Nicely done, Carly!" Freddie looked over and saw Carly beaming at her phone.

"We already have some responses!" Carly turned the screen to Freddie so that he could see what she was talking about. He quickly glanced at the screen and saw a line of responses. He returned his focus to the road as Carly scrolled through the tweets. After a few beats of silence, Carly glanced in Freddie's direction and noticed him smirking.

"What's so funny, Benson?" she asked with furrowed eyebrows.

"Nothing's funny! It's just…" he allowed his sentence to trail off and shrugged. "I don't know, it's just that you kind of reminded me of your old self just then. You know, back when we were teens. It's been a while since I've seen you excited about something silly, that's all. I've missed it."

Carly thought about what Freddie said for a second, then smiled. "Yeah," she nodded. "Yeah, I've missed it, too."


After listening to a slew of albums, singing loudly to the radio, debating about a number of topics (one of which being Dane Cook, again), filling up the gas tank (which Carly insisted that she pay for), and an impromptu photo shoot to document their journey, they made it into Omaha around 6:40 p.m. Carly wasn't sure what to expect, but she didn't expect Omaha to look like such a city. She assumed that they were currently driving through the downtown area, as it was heavily occupied by skyscrapers and parking structures, occasionally broken up by a trendy-looking shop or upscale restaurant. It wasn't a bustling metropolis like New York, but it wasn't exactly an endless cow pasture.

As Freddie's GPS system brought them closer to the address that Gibby provided them earlier that day, they noticed that they were actually passing the University of Nebraska campus. Their destination came a little over a mile later, in a community called Traditions Landing. Carly's expectations were challenged again, for she pictured something similar to Greek Row on her campus, which was a row lined on each side by massive houses. Traditions Landing, however, looked more like a large brick apartment complex. She was beginning to think they were in the wrong place, but then she began to closely inspect the buildings. In front of each block of apartment, there was a building that looked like a clubhouse. In the front of each of the clubhouses where large metal Greek letters. Separating each clubhouse from their block of apartments were lawns, some of which were occupied by groups of men tossing a football, barbecuing, or just drinking beer.

"Look for the Beta Epsilon Tau clubhouse," Carly instructed. "Gibby said they are flying a flag."

Freddie leaned forward and squinted. "I think that's it in the far corner…and I'm pretty sure they're also flying a pink bra, but I really hope I'm wrong."

As they neared closer to the Beta Epsilon Tau clubhouse, which was the size of a three-bedroom house, Carly noticed that Freddie was right: underneath their waving flag was a large pink bra that hung limply from the pole.

"Uhhhh…fun?" Carly offered, cringing?

"That's one word for it," Freddie mumbled as he pulled into a visitor parking space across from the clubhouse. He shut off the engine and the two youths exited the car, taking a moment to stretch. As Carly flexed her arms above her head, she caught a glimpse of the lawn in between the clubhouse and their designated apartments. She cringed a little. It was littered with red plastic cups, broken coolers, more than one child's rubber floatation ring (though she couldn't immediately spot a pool), and yet another bra (this time, it was yellow) draped in one of the bushes.

"Boys are so gross," she mumbled to herself.

"Not all boys!" Freddie chimed indignantly as made his was to Carly's side of the car. "Maybe the inside of the place won't be so bad." Before Carly could argue with him, Freddie was calling Gibby to inform him of their arrival. By the time Carly had retrieved her purse from the front seat, Freddie was already off the phone.

"He said to walk right into the house," he said, turning to Carly. "Look, we'll make a deal: let's check out the room first. If it's too much of a bio-hazard, we'll scout a hotel in the area and I'll make up an excuse that won't sound too horrible. Deal?"

"Deal," she agreed, thankful for an alternate plan. She made a mental note to keep a close watch on all of her bras, if they decided to stay there. Freddie led the way to the front door of the club house and opened it, with trepidation. Their noses were immediately assaulted with the acrid stench of beer and stale citrus. The door was prevented from opening all the way by a discarded, rusty keg. There was a thin layer of a grime on the tile floors, which luckily were a dark brick color to begin with, and the furniture was covered in random sheets. On the wall to their left, there was a huge entertainment center hosting a large flat screen television. To their right, there was a pool table in front of the fire place, which happened to be occupied by a passed out gentleman who lay on his stomach, completely unaware of the visitors. Straight ahead there was a bright room that Carly assumed was the kitchen, as she caught a glimpse of a sink and something that looked like a dishwasher.

"Gibster?" Freddie called. Carly looked over to the pool table, where the man remained motionless, although now she could detect a faint snore coming from his direction.

A familiar voice came from the kitchen. "Freddie, is that you, brother?"

"Sure is!" Freddie replied jubilantly. "Get your ass out here!"

Gibby exited the kitchen in a tightly fitted powder blue polo shirt, multi-colored plaid shorts, and a pair of white boat shoes. His hair remained the same as ever, spiked to perfection, but his body had certainly become much more muscular, leaving the young chubby persona far in its wake. He still had the same boyish face, however, and his excitement was very apparent.

"Freddie Benson! Hug it out, bro!" he boomed, which seemed to successfully stir the previously motionless man on the pool table, much to Carly's relief. Freddie made his way around the furniture to meet Gibby half way for a bear hug. Both men were laughing and clapping each other on the back. When they pulled apart, Gibby turned towards Carly and gave her a bright smile.

"Hey, gorgeous!" he hailed, walking towards her. When he reached her, he gave her a quick peck on the cheek and a big hug. Carly could not be happier to see her good friend.

"Gibby!" she squealed. "It's been forever!"

"I know!" he agreed as he pulled away. "Man, I really miss you guys. Sam, too. I'm glad you guys were able to visit!"

"Us, too," Carly and Freddie said in unison.

Gibby clapped his hands then pointed at his two visitors. "I know you guys have to be starving. Why don't I whip you guys up some dinner here?"

Carly tried to look around the clubhouse discreetly. Its current state wasn't very welcoming and she didn't want to even see the condition of the kitchen, let alone eat anything prepared in it. She glanced over at Freddie pleadingly, praying that he could recognize her silent cry for help. He caught her eye, then quickly reacted.

"Um, actually, Gib, we thought that maybe you could show us your favorite restaurant. I mean, how often are we here?"

"You're absolutely right," Gibby agreed, "and I know just the spot. First, I'll show you the apartment you guys can crash at. And no worries, the place is much cleaner than this dump."


"Omaha is awesome, you guys," Gibby praised before taking a swig of his Heineken at the Omaha Ale House. The trio sat in a booth in the far left side of the restaurant where they laughed, reminisced, and caught up without fear of disturbing those around them. Gibby had just finished talking about his Physical Education and Nutrition degree program, which lead to a discussion about the university, which turned into a conversation about how much he loved Omaha.

"Do you really?" Freddie asked, swallowing the last bite of his ribeye. "I mean, no disrespect, but I haven't seen a whole lot out here, aside from when we first came into the city."

"See, that's the beauty of it all," Gibby leaned in closer, his elbows on the table. "There aren't a while bunch of clubs and bars and fancy restaurants out here for distraction. So, you'll find a lot of house parties, Greek and non-Greek, to get into, and not just on the weekends. That's why my frat's parties are always so out-of-control, because there's always a ton of people just trying to find a good time. The fewer the distractions, the more it challenges us bored students to get creative."

Carly listened intently as she sipped on her raspberry lemonade. What Gibby said made sense. Tacoma had its parties, but everyone knew they could drive the short distance to Seattle if they wanted to find a club or a concert to partake in. There wasn't a whole lot of energy put into house parties, and she couldn't blame anyone. Who wants to clean that up the next day?

"Well, it sounds cool, man. I'm glad you like it out here," Freddie said, with a smile.

"Thanks. But enough about me. So, Freddie, who's this girlfriend I'm hearing about?" Gibby asked with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. Carly chose that moment to become preoccupied with her salad.

"Oh, her name is Esther. She's going to be a senior in the Fall, active in her sorority, very smart-"

"-Freddie, Freddie," Gibby held up his hands, "don't need the resume. I'm sure she's great. How does she look?"

Carly made no effort to hide her dramatic eye roll. "Boys," she muttered under her breath.

"Hey, we're disgusting. I know this," Gibby conceded, with a smirk and a shrug.

Freddie lifted from the seat slightly in order to get his phone out of his back pocket. "Speak for yourself, alright. Gibson?" He made a motion as if he was scrolling through his main screen, tapped something in the corner, then turned the phone to the other male at the table. "Here she is."

Gibby took the phone to look at the picture. He raised his eyebrows in curiosity, then gave Carly an odd look as Freddie looked down at his plate and speared a baby carrot onto his fork. "So? What do you think?"

"Uh," Gibby stalled, "she's pretty hot. Congrats, man," he said convincingly, though he gave Carly another strange look as he handed the phone back to Freddie. Carly made a mental note to ask Gibby what was going through his head just then. Obviously, he had something to say that he couldn't say in front of Freddie. Maybe he actually thought Esther looked like a man. Even though the guess was most likely wrong, she enjoyed thinking that someone else in their circle of friends thought that Esther may be wrong for Freddie.

"Thank you, sir," Freddie smirked.

"I think I'm going to have that drink, after all," Carly suddenly piped up, actively looking around for their server.


They arrived at Traditions Landing after a long dinner. They planned a day of running around the next day; Gibby would show them around town and would tape a couple dares for the upcoming special (an idea that Gibby fell in love with), all before a huge birthday bash that the fraternity was throwing for one of their brothers.

Carly was excited about the following day, but she was beyond exhausted and ready to hit the air mattress Gibby had set up for her in their apartment (which was so much cleaner than the clubhouse, much to Carly and Freddie's conjoined glee). Once the car was parked, she immediately hopped out of the car and made her way to the first floor apartment directly behind the clubhouse. Freddie took both his and Carly's suitcases out the car and effortlessly carried them to the apartment. She assumed that he was eager to get to the pull out couch he had claimed. As he pulled to the front of the trio, Carly took the opportunity to get Gibby's attention.

"Gibby," she whispered harshly. He stopped walking and turned to Carly, who jogged up to him so that she could speak more freely. "In the restaurant earlier," she asked, walking them slowly to the apartment, "You kept giving me this weird look when you looked at Esther's picture."

Gibby's eyes gave a brief flash, then turned his gaze straight ahead towards the apartment.

"Why, Carly, I haven't the slightest idea of what you're talking about," he said, in an unconvincing monochromatic voice.

"Seriously, Gibby!" Carly whined, a little louder than she meant to. They stopped walking and Gibby faced her, head on. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. Now tell me, what was that about?"

"Carly, why does it matter so much?" he asked with a laugh.

"It doesn't," she rushed to deny. She was then hit with Gibby's "Don't Lie To Me" face. She sighed. "Okay, it matters a little."

Gibby gave her a look that was a mixture of amusement and pity. Then he sighed, and Carly could immediately tell that he was choosing his words very carefully.

"Okay, all I'll say is this," he offered, he said in a low voice as they reached the door. Gibby slowly continued to the stairwell just to the right, leading to the second floor of apartments. Without turning completely around, he looked over his shoulder "If I were you, I'd be flattered."

And with that cryptic note, he made his way up the steps.


A/N: First, I must apologize for the long wait! I've been very sick and only recently found the energy to finish this chapter. I hope you liked it!

The reviews have really kept me going, you guys! Thank you all so much! It makes it so easy to keep writing and I can't thank you all enough for that!

Just to be clear on two points: 1.) I actually like Dane Cook and his comedy is enjoyable to me (big shocker there) and 2.) the Omaha Ale House in this story is not, in any way, a portrayal of any specific restaurant in Omaha or any other place in America. I'm sure the real Omaha Ale House (if there is one) properly cards their underage patrons and this fictional establishment did not. In any case, the drinking in this chapter was completely harmless.

Anyways, I love you all and I'm so glad to be writing again. Hopefully, you'll see more from me much sooner than later. :o)

Hollaatchyagirl,

Phunky