Author's Note: It was while I wrote this little one-shot, I realized these stories are very Gibby-less. I apologize for that. Keep your eyes open for a POV by Gibby. Because Gibby is totally awesome!
Disclaimer: iCarly isn't mine, and its characters aren't mine either. I'm creating some stories about them though. That's it.
RANDOM SHOTS
Freddie was sitting on his couch, in his apartment and he'd just been dumped after a week of nice dates. His mom was at another aggressive parenting conference. As if she needed a meeting to learn how to be more of a psychopathic mother than she already was. But that's another story.
One thing that was great about his best friend, Carly Shay, she was always making cupcakes. The other great thing was that she always had a can of whipped cream in the fridge. He had gone into her apartment and swiped it.
It was for a good cause though.
So there he was, sitting on his couch and drowning his pitiful self with squirts of fake whipped cream.
That is until some one knocked on the door. After opening it, he noticed a sad-looking Samantha Puckett, she had been on a date too. He should know, because she told him so earlier that day.
Her face said it all. It told the story of how her not so fabulous boyfriend had cheated on her, and called her a bitch. Maybe even gave her a slap across the face. No tears though. She was way too strong-willed and proud to do that.
"Hey."
"Hi Sam."
Without any more pointless small talk, she brushed past him and sat herself down on the couch. Freddie tried to ignore his hormones that were now playing up, seeing a beautiful girl like Sam Puckett all dressed up in a way too short skirt and way too low cut top. It was pure torture.
"Why did you come here?" Freddie manages to say.
"Rude much?" Sam replies, sticking out her tongue cheekily.
She was one to talk, he thought, with a smirk.
Always trying to make his life an absolute misery. Half the time she actually succeeded. The other half, he just sat back and enjoyed the view. Kind of like now really.
"How was your date?" he asked.
"How was yours?" she asked.
"I asked you first."
"I asked you second."
"Puckett!"
"Benson!"
It would go on and on like this for a few minutes, and then slowly die down again. Sam finally noticed the can of whipped cream on the coffee table.
Took her long enough, thought Freddie.
The girl was trying to push down the nozzle, but couldn't work it and consequently became rather frustrated.
"Would you like some help?" Freddie finally offered.
"No!" Sam exclaimed. "I got th- Arrrgggghh!"
Cream suddenly squirted from the top of the can, and sprayed all over her face, causing Freddie to burst out laughing, and fall onto the floor. Sam frowned and knelt onto the carpet and crawled over to the unsuspecting boy. With one quick swipe, she gathered a whole heap of whipped cream from her face and slapped it onto his.
That, she thought, was satisfying.
But then, Freddie snatched the cream away from the girl, and pointed it at her, like it was a deadly weapon.
"Oh no." Sam gasped in horror.
"Oh yes." Freddie replies, with a knowing smirk, revealing his intentions.
Pretty soon, both the friends are running around the Benson apartment, playing Cream Wars or something child-like, and getting the sticky stuff everywhere. Mrs Benson would not be impressed, had she seen the state of her lovely clean home.
Sam and Freddie, who had managed to cover themselves in whipped cream, somehow ended up lying on the couch, hands in each other's hair, lips pressing fiercely against one another and their legs all tangled up together, as their tongues did a little dance.
As soon as they broke apart, the teens looked at one another and stared open-mouthed as to what they had just done.
"This is never to be revealed to anyone Benson." Sam says, in a hiss.
"I know Puckett," replied Freddie, in the same tone. "I hate you, remember."
"Hate you more."
"Nope. I'm pretty sure that I hate you a lot more that you hate me."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah!"
With that, they're off and kissing each other again, until it reaches a total make-out session. Thank goodness Marissa wasn't here to witness her sacred little Freddiekins and this delinquent swapping spit in her living room. They can't help it, and they also can't continue it for much longer.
Sam pushes Freddie aside, and gets up to leave.
"Remember," she says, pointing at the boy. "This never happened."
"Never ever," the boy responds with a quick nod.
As soon as she left, Sam leant up against Freddie's apartment door and sighed blissfully.
This wasn't going to be forgotten, she thought with a smile.
As soon as his door had closed behind Sam, Freddie leant up against it and sighed contentedly.
I will remember this for the rest of my life, he thought.
While Sam was creeping into the Shay apartment, to drop in for an unannounced sleepover, Freddie was crawling into his own bed, still smiling from the events of that evening. Maybe breaking up with people wasn't that bad after all.
Especially when you have a can of whipped cream, a Sam Puckett and imagination.
