Hello! I want to thank everyone for their support for my stories and in light of me taking a break.
I just want to clarify, and this isn't directed at anyone, that I'm not having issues with iCarly because of Seddie. I'm not one of those people who will stop watching a show because they don't get their pairing. I am a character fan first (being Sam in iCarly, obviously) and while I have preferences when it comes to pairings my loyalty is always with the character. Hell, I would take Creddie (lack of development aside) if it meant Sam was allowed to move on. My problem right now is that I do believe Seddie is end game and I don't see how they can do it in a way I would find believable. I thought it was ridiculously unrealistic that the Carly issue wasn't addressed when they dated (though I guess it's better otherwise Freddie would be looking like even more of a douche right now) but I let it go because there hadn't been any overt creepyness on Freddie's part since the foot rub thing in iDo. I don't think Sam should have (would have, given everything) just blindly trusted him then and I don't see how she can ever trust him again without the writers fundamentally changing her character to achieve the end result. In essence, the writers have ruined Seddie for me and I see them slowly ruining Sam for me too. I'd rather not watch at all than have that happen. Anyway, I just wanted to clear that up so no one assumes I'm a petulant shipper.
And on with the show... Seeing as I'm not continuing my Saturday updates I've decided to give you the rest of the story in one part (and because what was originally chapter 10 was mainly more angst and I think we all deserve a happy ending like now). So this is it guys: the final part to iSettle. I hope everyone has enjoyed the ride, bumpy as it was, and finds the culmination more satisfying than the show at the moment.
Just a reminder that this was written right after iOMG so some things may go against canon as established in later episodes.
Freddie pressed himself up against his door to stare through the peephole into the hall. He hadn't seen Sam since the night of the show, what with her skipping classes the next day (word around school had been that she'd called in 'dead') then heading off into the woods with the boy wonder. He'd practically begged Carly to make up some emergency so the trip would have to be cut short (preferably so short nothing happened that couldn't be undone) but the most she'd agree to was to ask Sam to come over once she'd (they'd) gotten back to the city. Carly had just called to tell him Sam was on her way so there he was, waiting for her to show up and hoping to hell she didn't suddenly decide to start using the elevator in the apartment instead of the main one.
Before the show had even ended that night Freddie'd had the whole story typed out, ready to post and expose Sam for the lying liar she was. He'd been tempted, oh so tempted, but ultimately had decided against it. He knew that if there was a point of no return (and there was – he'd just been lucky not to have stumbled across it so far) that would be it. And he wasn't ready to throw in the towel just yet. He was nothing if not persistent, even in the face of overwhelming resistance, so he'd spent the rest of the night trying to figure out what he was doing wrong. All the pieces were there – he loved her and she loved him – they just weren't fitting together like they were supposed to. Finally he'd realized he was going about it backwards: Sam wasn't going to break up with Brad until he proved himself. Because in the grand scheme of things the interloping Brad piece was nothing compared to the overshadowing Carly one…
Seeing the familiar blonde hair he opened the door and stepped into the hall. "Hey."
Sam's hand fell from the Shay's doorknob as she turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "And some things never change…"
Being obvious about his intentions was the least of Freddie's problems at the moment. "I was waiting for you, Sam."
"Doesn't make it less stalkerish, Freddie." Just because it was aimed at her didn't make it okay. "And why do I get the feeling this is a set-up?"
"Because it is." She must have been off her game – she actually seemed surprised.
And that explained why Carly had told her the direct elevator wasn't working. "I'm tired, Freddie," she told him quietly. "I don't have the energy for this." Or the mental acuity, it seemed.
"Why? 'Cause of all the fun you had this weekend?" He hadn't planned on bringing it up, didn't really want to know, but the accusation had left his mouth before he could think better of it.
It was none of his business – what she had or hadn't done – and she didn't want to talk about it anyway. "You don't really want me to answer that…" She wouldn't even have asked, if their positions had been reversed.
Freddie swallowed hard. What he wanted was for her to tell him he was wrong; that it didn't mean what he thought it meant. Her non-answer left him feeling sick. "Never mind."
His tone was a curious mixture of denial and resignation, and contrary to popular belief Sam wasn't sadistic enough to want him to suffer needlessly. "Nothing happened, okay?" Well, stuff had happened, just not the something he was afraid of.
The knot in Freddie's stomach loosened and he could breathe normally again. They could've gotten past it – it wouldn't have changed how he felt about her – but he was more than a little relieved that they wouldn't have to.
Alrighty then. "I'm gonna go now."
Freddie shook himself out of his stupor in time to put himself between her and the exit. "Sam…" He reached out to her, and when she held out her arm to keep the distance (like he'd known she would) he brought his right hand out from behind his back and snapped the other handcuff on her wrist.
It took Sam a second to process the clicking sounds and the tightening of metal around her skin. "You know," she hissed, "if I had as little self-control as you constantly accuse me of having you'd be dead ten times over this week alone." And if she'd known this was going to be her reward for easing his fears she'd have let him keep his assumption… "Unlock me. Now."
"I need you to listen to me, Sam." This had better work; he was pretty sure he'd just found the shortcut passed the point of no return. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200.
"I will go get the key, Freddie," she promised, advancing menacingly. "And I will not be gentle." This was just the perfect ending to her weekend.
Backing away as far as their joined hands would allow he quickly told her, "I don't have it." Just in case she didn't believe him he turned his jeans pockets inside out.
Sam took a breath to calm herself. It didn't work, her words coming out as a growl through clenched teeth. "Where is it?"
Freddie shrugged innocently.
She would kill him but she wouldn't have much of an alibi, attached to his body. "Carly! Carly Shay, get your traitorous butt out here right now!"
Carly poked her head into the hallway. "Um… hi?" She would ask if the blonde had a good trip but they were probably past pleasantries…
Sam held their cuffed hands up wordlessly, the other on her hip.
Uh-oh. Eyes wide Carly gasped, "You said you just wanted to talk to her!"
"Does she look like she's in the mood to talk?" Freddie pointed out defensively. "I needed insurance."
"You're going to be needing life insurance when I'm done with you…" Especially now that she knew Carly didn't have the key, either…
Carly's gaze flitted between them nervously. "I want no part of this."
"Coward." Once the turncoat had disappeared into her apartment Sam dragged Freddie into his.
So far so good. Until she started tearing the place up, anyway. "The key isn't here, either, Sam."
Tossing the couch cushions on the floor Sam rounded on him. "If you swallowed it I will filet you…" She knew where Marissa hid the sharp knives…
He hadn't even considered that but ew. "I gave it to my mom before she left for work." Good thing, too; the way Sam was going he probably would have caved by now.
"Road trip, then," Sam huffed, "If you're lying to me at least you'll already be at a hospital."
He showed her their hands, his right attached to her left. "I would have to drive and it's not happening."
Well, she could drive but his hand would have to be in her lap and that option wasn't any better. "Then I'll just call and tell her if she doesn't come home now her precious son will be missing a hand when she does."
Freddie wasn't worried – she hadn't really hurt him in years. Well, months anyway… "Your threats are starting to ring hollow, Sam. I know you're not gonna…"
Sam hauled back and punched him in the shoulder as hard as she could. It wasn't her left but it was still satisfying. So satisfying, in fact, that she had to refrain from hitting him again.
Ow. Okay, maybe calling her out on it hadn't been his best idea… "Feel better?" he asked, rubbing his throbbing arm.
Seriously? He was gonna patronize her right now besides? Making sure to put every ounce of strength behind it (which sadly wasn't very much) she punched him again in the same spot.
When Freddie had come up with this brilliant plan he'd been concentrating on her not being able to get away; he hadn't really realized he wouldn't be able to get away, either… Now he had a numb arm and possibly broken fingers to show for his lack of forethought.
He was trying to act like it didn't hurt, his hand twitching subtly, and Sam's satisfaction turned to (unwanted) guilt. "What's the plan here, Freddie?" she sighed. "Hold me hostage until I give in to your demands just to get away from you?"
"I'm not making demands, Sam." The defeat in her voice was echoed in his. "I'll let you go once I know you believe me."
Sam shook her head. "It doesn't matter…"
"Yes, it does," he interrupted smoothly. "We both know that's the real issue here."
She'd never said it wasn't. "If you'd let me finish my sentence I was going to say it doesn't matter because I'm not going to believe you."
"So that's it, then?" He went to pick up the couch cushions, more for a distraction than for the sake of tidiness. "No matter what I say you're not going to listen?"
Too exhausted to struggle she followed behind him. "I don't need to listen; nothing you say is going to convince me you suddenly have feelings for me."
Frustrated, Freddie tossed the cushions onto the couch. "It's not 'suddenly,' Sam. If you'd just…"
"Please!" she snapped, losing what little patience she'd had left. "You couldn't keep a secret if your life depended on it so spare me your revisionist history!"
Her tone put him on the defensive. "It's the truth, Sam!" God forbid she believe a word he said. Paranoia must have been a side effect of being a compulsive liar…
"Really? All the times you hit Carly over the head with how much you loved her?" Eyes narrowed she spat, "And you expect me to believe you had feelings for me and just never said anything?"
"Carly's easier to love than you are!" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and Freddie instantly wished he could take them back. "Sam…"
Sam blinked back the tears and dragged him to the kitchen, more determined than ever to get the hell out of Dodge. She rifled through the drawers until she found the mallet then pulled his hand onto the counter.
It took him a (terrifying) second to realize she was going to pound the handcuffs and not him. "Sam, that didn't come out right…"
There's a right way to say that? When he moved to stop her she growled, "Now would be a really bad time to get in my way, Freddie." It wasn't an idle threat – if she didn't manage to break the cuffs she was going to have to seriously consider taking his hand off.
"See?" he huffed, sticking his free hand in his pocket lest she get any ideas. "At least I didn't have to worry about her killing me if I said the wrong thing…" He knew he should probably be groveling but she made it so hard.
Sam halted mid-swing to give him an incredulous glare. "You're blaming this on me? Nice." She followed through with a bang, putting all the anger and hurt into it.
"I'm not…" He cringed every time the mallet hit the metal, certain she was imagining it was him instead. "I'm trying to explain why you're not the safest person to have feelings for. You broke Gibby's thumb for God's sake!"
"You must think I'm some kind of gullible idiot!" It came out as a grunt, the exertion starting to get to her. And there wasn't even a dent in the cuffs. "I assaulted you, remember? That's not the reaction of someone who's just waiting for the go-ahead."
The hurt was back in her voice so Freddie softened his. "No – that's the reaction of someone who never let himself think there could be more. I didn't know, Sam…"
So now he was admitting it was new? Sam didn't think he knew anything. "This isn't about me, Freddie. This is about you thinking you finally have a willing target for your pathetic little obsession." Waving the mallet at him she hissed, "Well, I'm not into pedestals and perfection so you're all out of luck!"
"What are you into, then? 'Cause we both know it's not kindness and caring." She raised a dangerous eyebrow, the mallet still pointed at him, and Freddie had to force himself to continue. "Ever since we met you've abused me verbally, physically, mentally, emotionally. You just told the whole world I'm an incompetent brain-damaged cheerleader! If that's your idea of love then it's no wonder I was so confused!"
"Don't!" Sam swallowed the lump in her throat, glaring at him through wet eyes. "I have spent the last five years captive audience to the Freddie loves Carly show so don't you dare tell me how I'm supposed to act!"
Freddie regretted bringing it up, hated the pain it was causing her. "Sam…"
Dropping the mallet dangerously close to his hand she pointed at him scornfully. "You want to deal with your little unrequited love drama by throwing yourself at her feet, agreeing with everything she says like a mindless chimp and just generally making a fool out of yourself? Good. Great. That's your choice. But that's not me and I'm not gonna apologize for it!"
He didn't know how she managed to completely emasculate him and still make him feel guilty but there they were. "That's not fair, Sam. We were kids – you know I'm not like that anymore."
"Well, congrats on finally learning the meaning of self-respect… So how do I know you aren't just secretly pining?" It was a rhetorical question – apparently he'd skipped the self-awareness aisle when he'd been shopping for the self-respect.
Her expression told him she didn't really expect an answer (not one that she'd believe, anyway) which confused him. "Sam, I told you…"
"No, you didn't," she cut him off harshly. "I told you exactly what this was about and not once did you say 'I don't love Carly.'" 'I don't wish you were someone else' and 'That's not what this is about' were hardly adequate substitutes. Though he seemed to think they were.
Seriously? "That's what this is about?" If he'd known it was that easy it would have been the first thing out of his mouth.
That he was surprised didn't even surprise her. It just cut her deeply. "It's four words, Freddie; that you didn't even think to say them tells me everything I need to know." Even more that he hadn't argued when she'd said she was a consolation prize.
"I'm not in love with Carly anymore, Sam!" He wasn't sure he'd ever really been in love with her in the first place but he couldn't say he didn't love her at all – she was one of his best friends.
"Yeah," Sam barked bitterly, feeling her eyes well up again. "That didn't help." It might have been because she'd had to lead him to it or it might have been the way he'd chosen to say it. Just another reminder that he was 'in love' with Carly first…
Freddie had no idea what had just happened; he'd given her exactly what she'd asked for and she was looking at him like he'd told her she revolted him… "Okay, now you're just being unreasonable…"
She preferred to think of it as protecting herself but po-tay-to, po-tah-to. "Then give up. Do what I've been asking you to and let it go." She couldn't get over it until he did.
He was this close to giving in, to tapping out and calling for mercy as he had so many times in the past… "No." If she wouldn't fight for them then he'd have to…
Sam blinked at him. "What do you mean 'no'?" She'd seen the resignation in his eyes and thought for sure that was it; hated that she was more relieved than frustrated that it wasn't.
"No," Freddie repeated firmly. "If I give in you'll think you're right and you're not." Seizing the opportunity her temporary shock presented he drew her into him. "I love you, Sam. How do I prove it?"
For a split-second she considered that she was being unreasonable – that it wasn't fair to blame him for something that couldn't be changed – but reasonable or not she couldn't help the way she felt. "You can't, Freddie."
She'd leaned into him, just barely, before pulling away. Damn it. "Sam, you can't walk away from me…" Literally. "Just tell me…"
The pleading tone broke her composure. "I don't know how, okay?" Hindered by their linked hands she started yanking like the cuff was an anchor weighing her down. Like she'd drown if she didn't get it off… "Do you think I want to feel like no matter what I'll always be second? Don't you think I'd change it if I could?"
"Sam…" He tried to grab her hand, afraid that in her manic attempt to get free she'd tear it open. Or dislocate her thumb again; he didn't think he was as bad as the cops but at the moment she probably had a different opinion…
Hating how pathetic she sounded (felt) she warned, "And it's not all about you so don't go getting a big head about it!"
No fear of that – she'd never been one to inflate his ego but watching her freak out was destroying it completely. Making a show of it he shook his wrist and yelped, "Ow!"
Sam quit struggling and narrowed her eyes at him scornfully. "You're such a big baby…" She hadn't even been pulling on the cuffs, just her own hand.
Seeing as it had actually (astonishingly) worked he wouldn't get too upset about the blow to his masculinity. "I know it's not all about me…" Holding her gaze he brought her captured hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the chafed skin on the inside of her wrist. "But for me this is all about you, okay?"
She couldn't tear her eyes away from his, couldn't even bring herself to reclaim the hand he was holding hostage against his cheek. And she couldn't think of anything to say, besides.
That she hadn't denied it, or argued, was a good sign. As was the fact that she hadn't pulled away. "You know what I did while you were off in the woods pretending I don't exist?"
Twitching her wrist so the chain jangled in his ear Sam wryly guessed, "Restocked your collection of fetish gear?" Well hello, snark; nice to see you haven't completely deserted me…
Smartass. "Actually, these are the ones you stole from that cop in Japan…"
"Freddie!" There was no key for that set – dude's pants had been so tight he'd most definitely have noticed her fishing in them. Also, ew.
Freddie's valiant effort to keep a straight face was ruined by the panic on hers. Mama got owned.
His crooked grin told Sam it was payback for her remark, and she used his confiscation of her hand against him, whacking him upside the head. "That's not funny!"
Yeah, it kinda was; he was smart enough not to disagree, though. Leaning back against the counter he lowered their hands and used his other arm to pull her into him, getting serious again. "I spent the weekend trying to figure out when it happened. I wanted to be able to say, 'That. That's when I fell in love with you.' But I couldn't."
Sam cocked an unhappy eyebrow. "This story better have an amazing ending 'cause so far it sucks…"
"Sam…" She had so little faith in him, though Freddie supposed that was exactly their problem. Fairly certain she would stay he removed his arm from her waist to cup her chin. "I couldn't because there's no one thing. I don't know when it happened but it did. And it's not 'suddenly.'" She opened her mouth, probably to contradict him, and he quickly moved his hand over it. "Shut up for a minute."
She was surprised (and a little impressed) by the assertiveness but that didn't stop her from licking his palm in retaliation.
Freddie rolled his eyes but continued undeterred. "I know because when I was trying to figure it out I realized that no matter how far back I went in my memories you are usually front and center. Whether I loved you or hated you – usually both, by the way; you're just that inspiring…" Her lips started twitching against his skin and he could tell she was fighting a smile. Wanting to see it (needing to see it - God, he couldn't even remember the last time she'd genuinely smiled at him) he moved the hand to brush back her hair. "I was always drawn to you, Sam. You may think I don't know you but you're wrong. And I didn't get to know you as well as I do by never paying attention to you."
Sam's smile faltered then fell altogether. That just went to show you how people could remember things completely differently; her memories involved being ignored, overruled, undervalued, all because she wasn't Carly. And if she couldn't trust his memory then she couldn't trust him. "I can't do this."
"Huh?" She pulled away, and for the second time that day (and the nth time in the last couple of weeks) Freddie had no clue what was happening. No clue what he'd said to make her shut down so thoroughly. "Is it because of Brad?"
Of course he'd assume it had something to do with Brad. She hadn't wanted to talk about it – didn't even want to think about it – but she wasn't about to let him blame Brad for their issues. "I broke up with Brad."
Okay, now he was really confused. "You did? Why?" If it wasn't to be with him…
Sam leaned back against the island, their arms extended between them, and shrugged like it was no big deal. "Spencer convinced me it was the right thing to do." And it had hurt like hell; there was a reason she didn't do 'the right thing' often.
Freddie blinked at her. "Spencer Shay?"
Poor Spencer – no one thought he was capable of anything. Not that they were wrong… "Not intentionally. While we were loading the car he told me a story about this ex-girlfriend who had a cobra she had to feed live mice to…"
"So?" If there was a connection Freddie couldn't see it. Unless she'd decided a pet snake was less trouble than a boyfriend…
It'd had nothing to do with what was going on – she figured Spencer had just been uncomfortable with the situation and needed something else to talk about – but her brain had (traitorously) drawn its own parallels. "It made me realize I was putting Brad in the same position I refused to be in." Her whole day Friday had been spent debating whether or not having feelings for him made the hypocrisy okay. She'd wanted to believe it did, more than anything, but if she didn't think she deserved being a consolation prize then Brad sure as hell didn't. He deserved so much more. And she'd had to accept that she couldn't give it to him.
There was a glossy sheen to her eyes and Freddie knew doing it had hurt her infinitely more than she was letting on. She truly did look exhausted, painfully so, and it explained why she was more unhinged than usual. "I'm sorry, Sam."
"Save it." She'd done what he'd been pushing her to do – ended possibly (undoubtedly) the best relationship she'd ever had – and he expected her to believe he was sorry? The only thing he was sorry about was that it hadn't cleared the way for him like he'd imagined it would.
Freddie couldn't say he was sorry about the break-up but he wasn't heartless; she'd obviously been hiding out licking her wounds all weekend and he'd accused her of being off having 'fun.' "I'm sorry for this," he clarified, gesturing to their joined limbs. "I wouldn't have if I'd known." It was sad how many of their problems could have been avoided if she'd just communicate instead of being so damn guarded…
Sam waved a dismissive hand, choking back a sob. If anyone was sorry – utterly heart-brokenly can-barely-breathe sorry – it was her. She never should have involved Brad in the chaos that was her life to begin with. She really was her own worst enemy, and he'd gotten caught in the crossfire.
She'd wrapped her arms around herself, inadvertently drawing him to her, and Freddie went the extra step and enveloped her in the one he had left. Surprisingly she didn't fight. It wasn't long before he felt her trembling against his chest, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, tears filling his own eyes at the growing dampness of his shirt.
When she finally managed to stop crying Sam was more exhausted than when she'd arrived (which she hadn't thought possible), and though she was sorely tempted to stay there in his arms (arm), nothing had changed. Straightening, she wiped a sleeve across her face and muttered, "That didn't happen."
Knowing better than to argue, especially since she hadn't pushed him away, he feigned cluelessness. "What didn't?"
Smart boy. "You should change your shirt," she advised, patting a dry spot.
He couldn't even if he'd wanted to and she knew that; she was just trying to distract him from what they'd been talking about. If it wasn't about Brad then he needed to know why she couldn't do 'this.' "What is it, then?"
"Uh…" Sam made a show of examining the cloth. "Some salty substance, drool, and maybe a bit of snot."
Questionably charming wit aside that wasn't what he'd meant. "Don't play dumb, Sam – it doesn't suit you."
She could keep avoiding the issue, ask him what did suit her, but he'd probably say 'me' and she'd have to say 'hardly' and then he'd say her name in that annoying exasperated tone he used whenever he thought she was being purposefully difficult (side note: she usually was) and she'd end up giving in anyway. "I can't trust you on this, Freddie. It's too big."
"Sam…" God, she was stubborn. Running a frustrated hand through his hair he used the other to drag her to his room. "Come with me."
And she got the tone anyway. Joy. "What? You want to show me the rest of your 'collection'?" He may have been able to overpower her for once but he still couldn't control her snark.
"Yes, but not that one." Freddie had finally remembered why he'd wanted her at his apartment in the first place, and if this didn't work he was definitely all out of ideas. "And those are the same cuffs, by the way."
"Huh? How?" The last time she'd seen them they'd been running out the Shay's door attached to a Gibby.
"I got them back; I wanted a souvenir from the one time I managed to prank you." That had been his story, anyway; he hadn't asked for them back until after all the other stuff had happened, at which point Gibby had initially refused on the grounds that he deserved some evidence of his prisoner of war status. Freddie hadn't believed him, and he didn't think Gibby had believed him either, but they'd been nice enough not to call each other out on it.
Sam refrained from asking how long Gibby had had them for; she'd just pretend they'd been thoroughly sanitized instead. "Then what?"
Freddie picked up the pack of papers from his dresser and showed them to her. "I told you I still had your last birthday card. I didn't tell you I kept everything."
She eyed the perfectly neat bundle (tied with a modem cable and not some dainty ribbon, thank God) and lifted an eyebrow. Every time some special occasion came around she had an internal debate, to give or not to give, that was the question. Usually she went with not, not only because it was less likely to give her away but because it was expected, really. "Those aren't all mine."
"Well, no," he admitted. "But considering all of yours are about hating me and/or wishing me ill I think keeping them at all says something." There was one that was free of malevolence but she'd been on Oxycodone at the time (the dislocated thumb – his mom had finally taken her to a doctor friend after a week of watching her suffer) and sworn it was in no way a reflection of how she truly felt about him.
"It says something, alright: that you're a hoarder with a lack of standards…" The couple of times she'd actually given him something she'd made sure he thought it was out of obligation and not, you know, 'cause she'd wanted to. Except for the one she'd written on pain meds; just more proof that her subconscious really was out to get her. You'd think she'd have learnt her lesson after the dentist… But he wasn't making the point he thought he was making – she knew who most (if not all) of the rest of them came from.
Freddie knew exactly what was going through her head. "I'm not done." Though the rest wouldn't really change her mind on the 'hoarding' thing. Walking over to the bed he pulled the Tupperware storage container out from under it.
Sam watched curiously as he tossed it onto the mattress and pulled off the lid, holding it so she couldn't see the contents. "What's that?"
"This is the whistle you gave me to use when we were getting Franklin his job back," he showed her then dropped it on the bedspread. "And this is your oh-so-affectionate depiction of me being eaten by a tiger…" The drawing joined the whistle.
Before he could continue she disdainfully interrupted, "You keep a box of mementos?" A Tupperware container, besides. How 'his mother' of him…
In all honesty the box was a new development; he'd cleaned out his room over the weekend for a distraction and been surprised at how much stuff he'd kept without even realizing. "Is that wrong?"
"Depends…" she allowed before adding mockingly, "Are you a thirteen-year-old girl?" It was actually kinda sweet – and not entirely out-of-character for him, nub that he was – but she wasn't going to let him know that.
Freddie heaved a ginormous sigh. "I'm trying to show you it's not 'suddenly,' Sam. Think you can let me finish before you call me a sentimental loser?"
Aw. His lips had formed a pout and Sam had to force herself to refocus. "Fine – as long as you know I will be calling you a sentimental loser." She sat next to the container and snickered when he lifted a disco ball from it. "You really are a thirteen-year-old girl…"
"It's yours, Smarty," he informed her, tossing it into her lap. "From our locker. After Franklin let me go I went back to see if anything had survived." They'd had expensive electronics in there and he'd hoped they'd made it out alive. They hadn't. "I guess I never got around to giving it back."
Sam toyed with the small mirrored Styrofoam ball, making the light catch and reflect. For some reason it made her eyes sting. "Thanks…" It was all she could think to say.
Freddie felt like he was (finally) making some progress. It wasn't the first time, though, so he proceeded with caution, holding out the prank pen wordlessly.
"You kept the pen I shocked you with?" And he said she had issues…
"I figured I'd get you back eventually." His excuse for not doing it was that she'd probably enjoy it. "I was more shocked about the crush on Spencer thing, anyway," he told her, eyebrow cocked.
Oh, that. She'd been worried her feelings were getting obvious (they'd felt obvious) and needed to throw her friends off if they were getting any ideas; they were so easy to manipulate. Feeling guilty (for which shock she didn't know) she held her hand up to him. "Go ahead."
Freddie dropped the pen and turned her hand over to brush his lips against her palm. "Nah - I'm good." He wasn't sure her nervous system could take the jolt right then, anyway.
Sam swallowed the lump in her throat. If he wasn't in love with her he was doing a damn good impression of it. And she knew he wasn't that good an actor. "Freddie…"
"Ah…" he cut her off. "Not done." The look in her eyes told him he had her (mostly) but he wasn't going to leave the job half-finished. Gently placing her hand back on her leg he took the next item from the container.
Confused and offended by the brush-off Sam saw the jewel case and remarked dryly, "Let me guess – songs that remind you of me."
"Wrong." Freddie was taking his chances here – she wasn't exactly pleased with him anymore – but a little part of him was happy to be giving her a taste of her own medicine. "It's a DVD of the pageant I missed because of that stupid double-date. I found it online." He never would have passed up the opportunity to see little Miss Non-Conformist in a beauty pageant had he known she was competing. To say watching it had been surreal would have been an understatement. "Fried chicken? Really?"
She couldn't tell if he was teasing her because it wasn't a 'pageant' answer or because he'd deduced what it really meant. "It's a weakness!" she defended ambiguously.
Of course her only weakness would be a type of food… Which brought him to the pig with the pouty snout. "Piggles, Jr. – you won him for me at the fair playing that bottle game."
"I didn't win him for you," Sam scoffed, taking the stuffy from him. "I won him and I gave him to you 'cause it was a sucky prize."
"You picked him out," he reminded her with a knowing smirk.
Sam hit him with it. "Only because I knew I was giving it away." And she may have wanted to remind him he was bacon… "And it wasn't just you – Carly got a dinosaur, remember? Rawr!" She made a clawing motion with her cuffed hand.
Laughing, Freddie pulled his puppeted hand from the container. "The lady doth protest too much, methinks…" Okay, so he was making a French poodle quote Shakespeare but he couldn't think of a fitting quote by Jean Racine. Not one he could repeat without mangling to the point she didn't understand, anyway…
"You're such a doofus," she informed him lightly, trying not to smile. "Where the heck did you find an 'Oompé?'"
"C'est le Oompé." He made it yip in her face for authenticity, though his bark wasn't any more convincingly français than his accent.
Ignoring the bad impression (for all the French he'd taken he still wasn't very good) Sam raised impressed eyebrows. "You stole it?" Maybe there was hope for the boy yet.
Yeah, right – like he wouldn't have gloated about it if he had. "My mom found it when she was cleaning up backstage at the show; apparently Henri didn't take his loss too well…" It probably hadn't helped that he'd lost to them.
Sam didn't need to ask why his mom had been cleaning up; her neuroses were well-documented. "You couldn't have found a better souvenir from Japan than a poop-it?" It didn't really have anything to do with her specifically, except for having thrown it across the hotel lobby.
First she was making fun of him for keeping things and now he hadn't kept enough. Freddie couldn't win for losing... "Not everything that's happened had something tangible I could keep, Sam." Even though there were a few things left in the container he started putting everything back; she looked like she was having a hard time sitting up as it was. When she made no move to give up the pig he moved the bin to the floor without it. "Doesn't mean I don't remember it."
There weren't words strong enough to describe how much Sam hated that she was being irrational and insecure. Hated that he wasn't calling her out on it, just being all supportive and patiently persistent. Hated that he was pulling her to lie back on the bed and all she could do was put up a token resistance before giving in. "You're lucky I'm worn out…"
Freddie thought he deserved at least some credit for having worn her down but didn't think he'd be getting it. They spent a few minutes finding a comfortable position (not easy, considering), finally settling with him on his back and her on her side with her head on his shoulder, their legs entwined. "Remember when we fell asleep watching reruns of Full House waiting for 'Wake up Spencer'? And my mom found us the next morning when she got home from work?"
"How could I forget?" Sam murmured against his skin. "Crazy yelled at me for a half hour for corrupting her innocent little angel then lectured us on responsible behavior." They'd only gotten off 'easy' because they'd been fully clothed and above the blankets. She didn't remember why she hadn't just walked out.
Brushing her hair away Freddie found her eyes closed and her face peaceful. "Yeah, but she made us breakfast while she did…"
Oh, yeah – that's why she'd stayed. "Hmm."
"And she didn't beat you with my underwear," he chuckled.
"Huh?" Sam's brow furrowed in (slightly disturbed) confusion. Was that the appropriate response per the Aggressive Parenting boards?
Apparently Carly hadn't shared that part of the story. "Trust me – it's important." His mother had always seemed more accepting of Sam than Carly for some reason. Not that he thought Sam cared about having his mother's approval…
Trust me. Sam opened her eyes to stare at the wall, resisting the (futile) urge to flee. After a few minutes of quiet contemplation she bit the bullet and whispered, "I'm scared."
Already half-asleep Freddie wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. It wasn't until she hid her face in his neck that he realized he had. "Hey…" She tried to burrow deeper and he had to push her away.
Sam rose up onto her elbow but avoided his gaze in favor of the dolls (sorry, action figures) on the shelf.
Freddie knew what it had taken for her to admit it and wouldn't let her pretend she hadn't. Putting a hand under her chin he gently forced her to look at him. "I love you, okay? I didn't go through all this just to let you go."
Her eyes welled up. Again. God, she was tired of crying. And doubting. "I really hope you mean that."
"I really do," he promised, swiping his thumb over her cheek to clean it. "And I'm not stupid. I know you're gonna test me, and I know it's gonna take you a while to completely believe me." He cleared her other cheek then ran the thumb across her bottom lip. "Until you do I'll just have to…"
Sam cut him off with a tender kiss, holding her breath for the second it took him to respond. When he hugged her closer and his lips started to move against hers she exhaled slowly into his mouth, relieved.
"…keep working at proving it," he finished dazedly when she pulled away.
Dropping her head back onto his shoulder Sam trailed her fingers over his chest. "I love you, too." Quietly, she added, "And I'm sorry."
Freddie covered his surprise by pressing his lips into her hair. "What happened to 'I won't apologize'?"
What happened was she'd realized it was time she take responsibility for her own part in this whole mess, otherwise she wasn't sure she deserved him. Especially with how difficult she was being… Shrugging the best she could in her position she joked, "It's been a few years – I figure I owe you one anyway."
Despite the levity of the statement Freddie knew she meant it. Interlacing their fingers he smiled against her forehead. "Start fresh?"
Sam watched his thumb trace random patterns on her skin, feeling completely safe for the first time in forever. "Yeah – start fresh."
Cheesy enough for you guys? Does it make up for all the angst? Just a wee bit?
I hope you all enjoyed and are glad you stuck it out :)
I wish you all the best and hope to see you again when I finally get around to updating iWYTBMF. I apologize for the delay but am trying to find the motivation to finish writing the next chapter... Letting me know how you felt about this one might help ;)