Chapter 10: Best Thing You Never Had

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly; I rent. Dan Schneider is a vicious landlord.

March 5, 2022

I was pissed.

We were having a good night at the club. Okay, a great night. We were packed, and the bands were awesome. It was because of the great night and the awesome bands I was pissed.

Okay, that makes no sense, I know. I wasn't pissed about them, really. It was what they were keeping me from that pissed me off. A few months ago when one of the local radio stations contacted me about having an all-day event at my club I was ecstatic. There was nothing that could bring me down. I thought.

Then three weeks ago I found out that Ani Difranco was coming to Seattle as the last date on her farewell tour. Doctors had insisted she not even do this tour, but she ignored them. And the concert was tonight. It wasn't going to affect our business, as most of the bands tonight were on a different musical plain than Ani. We were still going to be busy. Which meant there was no way I could not be here. And I couldn't go to the concert.

Carly was at home with her newest baby, David, Jr. Melanie and James weren't into Ani Difranco. I honestly had no idea where Freddie was. Every time I talked to him he was in a different location. Yeah, I know. I talked to him. We actually do that a lot more now. He's still Mr. Secret Man, and that was pissing me off, too. I kept saying I would stop talking his calls until he let me know what he was actually doing, yet I kept picking up. I called him, too. I talked to him more than I talked to Carly now. Sure, Carly was in her baby phase right now, which to me was like car racing. It's probably great if you're the one doing it, but it's not something you want to watch. And Freddie was fun to talk to, more fun than I remember him being any time in the last ten years or so. I just wanted to know what was making him happy. It wasn't a girl, I knew that. Not unless this was a different Freddie, because he still did. He didn't say it all the time, because I knew he realized that would come across as pressure I wouldn't be able to handle.

The thing is, if he was here and told me, I don't know what my response would be. So stupid to be thinking about someone like that, especially someone I hardly ever saw.

And who I was pissed at.

The last band finished playing a little after one in the morning. We had some people come to the club from the Ani concert. I resisted the urge to refuse them service, and got to catch snatches of conversation about how awesome it was. Great.

Contrary to what she said to me, Melanie did ask me about the package Freddie sent to me. I'm still not sure why. I told her what it contained, but she insisted she didn't want any information about our father—not where he was or anything like that. She asked me if I was ready to get over it. Somehow she had become the harder sister. But she was right. Lots of people don't get two parents; some don't get one. Freddie only had his mother. Carly spent most of her youth raised by Spencer, who was probably the closest to a father figure I ever really had. Or would want. The man who used to be Bill Puckett had too much of me as it was. I couldn't let him control all of my life.

I got home around three in the morning. I was exhausted. We were closed the next day, thankfully, and I planned to sleep at least twelve hours, more if I could help it.

As with all things recently, this plan was foiled by Freddie. My cell phone rang, and I saw it was him. He had called me before at this time, although not often since he had been keeping somewhat more normal hours recently, but I had told him tonight was going to be hectic. He should have known not to call.

"What the hell do you want, Fredward?"

"Oh, I just had a really good night, and I wanted to top it off by hearing a friendly voice," he said, laughing.

"What was so good about tonight, nub?"

"Oh, I can't tell you that." I groaned, and he laughed again.

"Listen, Freddie, I'm real happy you had a good night at something you refuse to tell me about, but I'm pretty tired, and I just want to go to sleep."

"No problem, Sam. Oh, wait, there was one thing I had to tell you."

"What's that?"

"I think there's a strange man on your doorstep." Suddenly I wasn't tired at all. I went to the front door and unlocked it, opening it up to see the nub himself standing there.

"Hey, Sam, what's up?" He grinned at me and canceled the call on his phone. He held a large paper bag in his other hand.

"What the hell's on your face, Benson?"

He rubbed his chin where a small patch of hair grew. Freddie always had a boyish face. He would always have a boyish face. I know he still got carded, even though he was now twenty-eight. The boy would be carded when he was in the nursing home. The hair on his chin only called attention to his youthful appearance.

"You don't like it?" He sounded a little hurt, but the grin stayed on his face. Perhaps his mother had told him if he made that face it would stay like that.

"You should have grown a full beard if you're trying to seem more manly, Freddie." The grin did falter a little when I said that, and then popped back up.

"I haven't shaved at all, Sam. That's all that will grow." I laughed and held the door for him. Yeah, I was definitely not sleepy any more.

"What's in the bag?"

"Meatball subs." I stared at him. "And Fat Shakes." Okay, maybe I wasn't as pissed at him as I thought.

"How do you know I wasn't gonna have a guy here tonight, Freddie?" He had me a little off course, and I had to change that. Puckett rule 13: Assure your dominance is acknowledged.

"I would have seen it on the cameras," he said, pointing around the room. I looked at him. "Kidding." I shook my head. Maybe I could tear him down, but it would require an effort on my part. Besides, I was enjoying his happiness.

"Do you have plates?"

"What do I need plates for, Freddie?"

"For me." He got up and went to the kitchen, looking through cabinets until he found one. He brought it back and pulled out a small sub and put it on the plate. He pulled out a small shake and put it next to it. Then he pulled out a monster sub, about three times the size of the one he had, plus an extra-large shake. He flattened the bag and placed it in front of me, and put the large sub on it.

"Enjoy."

I looked at the sub and the shake. "I think I want to bear your children, Benson."

"Eat first."

"You want a beer, Freddie?" I didn't drink very often, but I had some in the fridge. Melanie and James came over sometimes, and he would drink my beer. He didn't drink at home. I think that was a Melanie rule.

"No, I don't drink anymore." Freddie flushed slightly.

"Since when, Benson?"

"I just had a bad night once and decided to stop."

"DUI?" I asked, repressing a smirk.

"No! Nothing like that. I just almost did something I shouldn't. No biggie. No DUI. No paternity suit or anything. Do you want to eat or what?" I thought about the recordings on my computer. I sat down.

We were silent as we ate. Freddie knew when food was involved talk was discouraged. Although I had much more than him I finished with my sub first. He only ate half of his and drank a third of his shake. I almost asked him if I could have the rest of his sub, but that was pushing it. My sub was really huge. If he didn't finish his, I would just wrap it up and have it for a snack the next day.

"So, are you going to tell me the big news?"

"Not yet," he said. I was going to kill him. I think I could get rid of the body without anybody finding it. He sensed my emotions. "Sam, I seriously am not trying to be difficult. I just can't talk about this thing until the right time. It has to be perfect." He smiled. "Maybe it is, if I don't screw it up." His smile faltered again before going back to full Benson. He was really nervous about it, whatever it was.

"Can you at least tell me what it has to do with?" He thought about it.

"It's got to do with what you told me, Sam. I wasn't happy. And I don't want to end up having a heart attack young, like my mom. So I made a change. And right now I'm doing something I love, but I don't know if it's good. I think it's good, but I want to make sure before I let people know." He had let some people know, though-just not me. But I nodded. It was the grin on his face. It was...well, it was just too dorky to knock off.

We talked. I told him about the night I had and how ticked I was to miss Ani's concert.

"She was here? Man, what I would have given to be in the audience for that."

"You could have gone tonight."

He shook his head. "More pressing business. Plus, I'm sure tickets were sold out. And there's no way I would want to be standing among a bunch of lesbians without you and some rain." He grinned at me.

"You just want me around so I could get the lesbians to kiss you," I said, smiling back.

"There's that," he said. I looked at him.

"Stay here." He nodded, although he seemed wary. I went to the bathroom and returned a few minutes later.

"Sam, what are you doing?"

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever seen, Freddie, and as a friend, I just can't let it stay," I said, gesturing at his chin. I set down the shaving gel, razor, clippers, and bowl of water I had brought back.

"Wait. Do you know how long it took me to grow this?"

"Freddie, if that thing took you any time to grow, you're better off without it anyway." He sighed, sitting back. At least I was going to win something today. I took the clippers to the hairs he had under his lower lip. It didn't take long.

I went into the kitchen and grabbed a clean dishtowel out of a drawer and ran it under hot water. I came back and wiped his chin with it.

"Sam, that's a girl's razor," he said, looking at it.

"I don't think you'll get cooties, Benson. It's new out of the package. Don't worry." I sprayed a small amount of shaving gel onto my hand and then rubbed my hands together and brought them on his chin. I took the razor and slowly brought it down his chin. I wiped the area I had just shaved with the dishtowel. I put my hand on his neck and prompted his face up, and then brought the razor again. After that, I laughed.

"What's so funny, Sam?"

"I just never thought I would see the day you would willingly let me bring a blade near your face."

"Well, I've often had moments of extreme stupidity." I laughed again, and then controlled myself so I could finish. He was clean-shaven again within two minutes.

"Better?" he asked.

"Yeah, your face looks like a baby's butt."

"Thanks, Sam." He was still grinning. I smirked, thinking of something.

"What's on your mind, Sam?"

"Hey, remember that time I was eating string cheese at Ridgeway?"

"Which time...Sam, don't." But I had already grabbed the shaving gel and pressed the button. It was a gel one that turned to cream after after you rubbed it in, so it made a pretty good shot, covering the chest of Freddie's T-shirt nicely.

"Thanks, Sam," he said again, sighing, looking at the mess on his shirt.

"Oh, don't be a baby. I'll wash it off for you. Give me." I held out my hand. Had I planned this? Would you believe me if I said I don't know?

Freddie looked at me, and pulled his shirt off. I raised my eyebrow at him, causing him to laugh and blush. He handed me the shirt.

"I'll go throw it in the washer," I said.

"Sam, wait."

"What?"

"That's too little to do a load of wash in."

"It's okay, Freddie, I can afford the water." And then he sprayed the front of my shirt with the shaving gel.

"There, now I think that's enough for a load." I stared at him. This was a challenge, and Sam Puckett didn't back away from challenges. Of course, Sam Puckett maybe realized that shaving gel wasn't really something that required a washing, either. Freddie echoed the eyebrow raise I had done before. I smirked and pulled my shirt off. I took both shirts and threw them in the laundry with a little detergent, then went back to stand in front of Freddie.

"Wash takes about thirty-five minutes," I said. "You can't beat me, Benson." He looked into my eyes.

"It appears I'm still winning, Puckett," he said, smirking. Whatever had happened tonight had certainly made him bold. He took a step closer to me.

"Mama always wins, Freddie." Picket rule 16. "What makes you think you're ahead?" I also took a step forward.

He looked down at himself. "Well, it appears I am bare-chested. You, on the other hand, are not," he said, pointing at my chest. He took another step closer to me. I could reach out and press my hand against his chest, if I wanted. "It's okay if you want to admit defeat, Sam."

And it was. Yeah, Mama always played to win, but there had been enough times that she hadn't won against Freddie. One more time wasn't the end of the world. Were we even playing a game anymore? I reached up and unclasped my bra, letting it fall to the floor. I stepped closer to him.

"Your move, Freddie."

A/N:I don't have a lot of reviews to reply to since I threw up four chapters today. I likely will not post anymore today (I won't say I won't for sure, since I could be a liar). I am sure the final chapters will be up by the end of the week (plus, maybe with an epilogue—I haven't quite decided).

Julefor was able to get a few reviews in. So I will cover some of her comments—the big one being that Freddie needs to grow up. I hope that people are seeing that he is slowly doing that. Can he do that and still be in Sam's life? Well, this chapter definitely poses us a new, interesting question, doesn't it?

Julefor also asked me if Mrs. Benson was supposed to die. No, as I wrote in one of my first chapters, there is a death of sorts, but by that I meant Gibby and Shiori's baby. Will Mrs. Benson survive throughout the story? Hmm…let me just say we will hear of her again, if not have her a full player in the story (which she really hasn't been—she's been more like one of those Shakespearian characters that are often discussed, but seldom seen). And, Julefor, tsk tsk, for wanting to smack Freddie. Doesn't that boy get enough of that?

Also, about Sam's father—the point was never to have Sam confront him. The point is that Sam had the information in her hands, and she had the power to do something. And when she shredded the package, that was her first step in not letting her father have control over her life. Other writers might have done it differently, true. I've had experience with the whole father abandonment issue and, unfortunately, I had to help my daughter through her own mother abandonment issues, so that in part colors the way I wrote the story. At least I didn't post some of my "I hate my father" pseudo-poetry I wrote when I was younger.

As for a question from Elise Suzanne I didn't answer earlier about whether or not Gibby Jr. is really what the Gibsons' son is named. No, that's just what Sam called the kid. Sam didn't dislike the Gibsons, but she was still a little resentful of them, so rather than acknowledge the baby's real name, she…well, acted like Sam. As for the actual name, I'm not really sure, except that is probably a mixture of a Japanese first name and American middle name.