AN: Hi there! And welcome to I forgot to post for a couple of months and the unposted oneshot folder is growing by the day. So, here we are with another update of one that is always playing on my mind and I felt that it's finally ready to be shared, and it almost follows off the last oneshot iNose but doesn't directly follow - you'll find out what I mean aha. I hope you enjoy and it starts off your week with some Seddie!
Window
She told him the window would be open. It wasn't.
With a firm knock on the glass, Sam flinched from where she was sat at her desk in the small box-like room. He was early. Out of the two sisters, she got the largest bedroom, but only because Melanie was barely home – she was certainly the favourite child. So, she swirled around on the chair and grinned at the sight of Freddie perched on the outside window trim. Carefully, she opened the window and allowed him to slip through.
"Could've used the door," Sam said to him. "My mom isn't home."
Freddie scoffed. "You couldn't have texted me to tell me that before I had to climb up the drainpipe? I don't see your appeal with climbing through my window at night; a neighbour probably thought I was breaking in."
"You really think you look threatening enough for someone to be concerned? Besides, neighbours around here don't care," Sam shrugged. "It isn't like we have built in safes that you guys do at the Bushwell."
"Okay, my mom did that herself to store the "rare tic lotion" she got at last year's Aggressive Parenting meeting in San Francisco," Freddie defended. Sam laughed at this, rolling her eyes and she flopped down on the bed. That day at school, she'd asked him for his help that night. "My eye's finally gone down."
"Good," Sam agreed, gesturing for him to come closer to her. Reluctantly, he did so, and she grabbed his face, hands on either side of his face, and looked up at him. He froze in place, unsure of what she was doing. She ran her finger along his nose. "It's going back to normal shape at least." Then awkwardly, she cleared her throat and let go of him, sitting up and throwing herself back onto her huge pile of cushions.
Freddie moved off the bed and grabbed the box from the floor. "All the stuff is here, right?"
"Yeah, it's all there." Sam grabbed the box of matchsticks she had stolen from Spencer last week and threw them to him. Freddie caught them in one hand, inspecting the box. "No, that isn't the box Spencer managed to set on fire."
Freddie grinned at the memory. For as long as he could remember and had lived next door to them, Spencer was setting things on fire. His mom actually told the neighbourhood watch community in the building about him in her first week, scared for her and her son's safety, but after getting to know the man, she realised that he may be a goofball, but he cared for his little sister and really, wasn't a safety risk at all to her or her son.
"My mom's last boyfriend left the barbeque in our garden still," Sam continued, snapping Freddie out of his thoughts. "We can use that, get it over with quickly."
When Sam had turned away, Freddie risked opening the box and feasting his eyes on the contents. There were a couple of notebooks in there – just one of the many things Sam had put in there to fill the box up – and then under those, he found a few polaroids and printed photographs, love letters, and even a few shirts. He picked up one of her dresses. "You're going to burn this?"
Sam scrunched her nose up. "He got it for me. I don't want to see it ever again."
"Okay."
She grabbed her jacket and stood by the door, waiting for him to stop snooping. Upon realising she was waiting for him, he closed the box and put it under his arm. The two went downstairs, through the house and out the back door. The bright red barbeque could be seen through the overgrown grass and things Pam had thrown into the yard over the years. They made their way through, Sam in shorts and allowing the grass to scratch her legs and ankles. Freddie took his sweater off to tie it around her waist; she smiled at him gratefully. Once they had the fire going, Sam threw the first couple of photos on there.
She used a stick to move the photos to the side. "Okay, throw the dress on."
Freddie tried to convince her. "Sam—"
"Just do it, Freddie, or I'll do it myself."
It was becoming late evening in October, meaning the sky was growing darker by the second. Five minutes later, and the light from the barbeque was the only thing lighting up their surroundings. They almost forgot where they were as they began to rip pages out of the notebooks, tossing them carelessly onto the fire. Freddie had said he'd come back in the morning and clear up any mess they'd made.
"Don't bother. Our yard is already a mess," Sam told him. "My mom couldn't care less."
"No, seriously. I'd be happy to do some yard work."
Sam decided that it was best to tease him rather than face the reality that he was actually being nice to her. Not that she was surprised. He was always nice to her; she just wasn't nice to him in return. "What, because you work out now?" she grinned, nudging him in the elbow. "Like look at your arms, man." Even through his shirt, she could tell he went to the gym almost daily before school.
"Don't drool, Puckett," Freddie retorted, smirking at her.
She rolled her eyes. "You wish." Once one notebook was empty, they started on another, and then threw another shirt onto the fire. "He'll probably be back for the barbeque tomorrow afternoon. My mom's boyfriends come back for their stuff at the weirdest of times and make a very dramatic grand exit with it."
"I can clear it out once we're done," Freddie said. On the way out the house, Sam had filled a bottle of water so they could put the fire out later. But for now, Sam could only think about the bag of marshmallows she'd brought outside with them. He laughed as she began to stick them on sticks. "You should work for T-Bo. Look at those skills."
"I'd rather go back to Chilli My Bowl," Sam grimaced. She handed Freddie a stick. "Carly said T-Bo made her do all sorts – and did you know they don't wash their hands before they chop the fruit?"
"Sam, since when did you wash your hands before doing anything?" Freddie teased.
"Since when did you think before speaking?" Sam remarked. "Because if you did, maybe your talking wouldn't be so nerdy."
"You like my nerdy talk, admit it."
"Never." Sam smiled at him, thinking he wouldn't see through the darkness, but really, her face was glowing in the orange light. She was teeth-smiling, her marshmallows being toasted over the fire. Once she'd had a bite, she let out a groan. "The sweet taste of resentment."
"The oxymoron in that sentence makes my nerdy brain happy," Freddie said smartly.
The two finished throwing things onto the fire, and Freddie looked down into the box, seeing the dress left there. It was a little black dress, thigh-length, with a purple bow through the middle. He'd managed to throw a shirt on the fire in replace of the dress, as he was convinced that by tomorrow, Sam would regret it. So, he shoved it in the top drawer upon getting back to Sam's room and watched as she crawled into her bed, exhausted. He didn't know that burning an ex-boyfriend's stuff could make a girl so tired.
"Are you staying the night?" Sam asked bluntly. She reached behind her and threw the first cushion she had grabbed at him.
"Hey! What was that for?"
"Being a nub and making me ask that question."
Freddie huffed and sat down at the end of her bed. "Well, do you want me to stay the night?"
"Kinda," Sam admitted. "Don't really want to be alone tonight, especially after what we just did." Freddie could understand that. If he were to burn his metaphorical ex-girlfriend's stuff with someone special, and then they left, he'd feel pretty lonely, too. "He was such a dick to me."
"I know, Sam," Freddie said gently, already undoing his shoelaces. Then he dropped backwards and laid down beside her. She hummed in his direction, her cold breath tickling his ear. "He didn't deserve you."
"Yeah, yeah," Sam dismissed, rolling her eyes. "That's just what friends are supposed to say. If you didn't say that to me, you'd earn yourself a friendly whack in the arm. To be fair, if you didn't say something that sappy to me in all honesty, I'd worry there was something wrong with you."
A pause.
"Just don't go, you know, beating up my ex again next time."
Freddie huffed indignantly. "I was defending your honour."
"You're cute." He wasn't sure if he'd heard that correctly, but Sam had already closed her eyes and on her way to sleep. He got up off the bed, closed the bedroom door and went towards the window. The barbeque outside contained the majority of the mess they'd made, but he made a mental note to clean up after them in the morning. If he were to leave now, he was worried Sam was going to break one of his bones. Through the glass, he could see her reflection; she was curled up on one side of the bed, hugging a pillow to her chest, smiling in her sleep. She was probably dreaming about bacon or ham – or all of the above.
He tucked her in and laid down beside her. "Thank you for asking me to help you with this," he said, knowing fully well that she was asleep and had no intention of waking up anytime soon. "I know it's more a Carly thing to do, so thank you, especially when I did kind of betray your trust and start that fight." When he rolled over to try and get some sleep, being careful not to take up any of Sam's side of the bed because he knew just how violent she could get when someone came into her personal space, he felt a small hand take his.
"You're welcome," she quietly muttered back. "Now, shut up and go to sleep, nub."