AN: Hi, lovelies! Happy February. My god, so far 2022 has been exhausting personally, but I hope you guys have been having a good start to the year. This past week, though, has been such a relief and a fresh breath of air, and I felt that it was time to post this. My college courses have been taking up so much of my time and this is the first time I've had time to do something other than study classical literature, criminal law, or a poem in two months. Another few days, and I'm back at it unfortunately, so for now, I hope you enjoy this oneshot and have a lovely rest of your week. Stay safe and healthy x
Voice
After months of deciding, and retaking her SATs, Sam finally decided to submit her application to the University of Washington. At first, it was only something she had done spur of the moment to stop Carly from pestering her over it, but then when she received the official acceptance letter, she had decided that despite the thousands of dollars student debt she'd be drowning in till she was at least sixty – or as she put it – dead, she was going to go for it. Carly, though, had other plans when Yale accepted her application and offered her a scholarship. Then with Freddie away at MIT, the group had officially separated.
Freddie was loading his final few boxes into the car. Spencer was going to roadtrip both Carly and Freddie to their colleges, deciding on the way he could try out a bunch of new foods that could inspire him for his latest sculpture. This new trendy restaurant in downtown Seattle wanted a random mashup sculpture of foods – and Spencer being Spencer had no idea where to start, so instead of being sensible and brainstorming like a normal human being, he was instead deciding to drive the whole way across the US to drop them off at college.
Sam watched as the three packed up the car, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. "Don't you think seven boxes is a bit much?" she asked the brunette, finding humour in his struggle to fit anything in the trunk. Carly frowned and managed to fill the backseat with her stuff, leaving just enough room for herself.
"They're important boxes," Freddie told her. "I've got all my cables in there – and the backup cables, and a few hard drives, and my—"
"I stopped listening at boxes."
Freddie pulled a face at her. "Nehhh."
"Nehhhh."
Carly gave her best friend a hug. "I'm going to miss you so much!"
"Hey, hey, don't cry, kid," Sam said with a laugh, head resting on her friend's shoulder. "We'll see each other soon, right? Not long till Thanksgiving."
"Aren't you spending that with your mom?"
"Nah. She ran off to Las Vegas again with Greasy Gilbert."
"Yuck," Carly grimaced. She pulled away from the hug. "Isn't he the one who stole your TV?"
"That was Pedantic Paul – or maybe Thieving Tony. Eh, one of the two." Sam wiped at her eyes. "You guys better get going, right? You'll want to beat the traffic…in all the states." Spencer hugged the girl, too, telling her to stay out of trouble. She smiled at him. "Thanks, Spencer. You know, for being a big brother to me all these years and stuff."
"Hey, no problem. You always know where I am if you need anything."
Then it came Sam and Freddie's time to say goodbye.
"We'll wait in the car." Carly and Spencer excused themselves, squabbling in their sibling ways as Carly tried to fit in the back and Spencer reasoned with her that maybe she'd have to take a few things out. Then Freddie finally looked at the blonde, a smile tugging at his lips.
"Well, uh, I guess this is a goodbye."
Sam scoffed. "You'll never get rid of me, Benson."
He laughed and pulled her into a tight embrace, arms wrapped around her as she tucked her face in his neck. If a bystander didn't know any better, there would be no hesitation to think that these two were dating. "Like a bad smell?" he joked, expecting a punch in the arm. Instead, he received a light chuckle which he felt through his thin shirt.
"Worse. Much worse." Sam cleared her throat, pulled away, and composed herself, trying to hide her teary face. Then she turned around to face away from him and wiped at her eyes again.
"Are you—"
"It's the pollen count," she excused immediately. "Just the pollen count. Nothing else."
"It's okay to be sad, you know."
"I'm fine," Sam insisted. "Mama doesn't get sad. Hey, you guys should really shoot off though because—" She was cut off by Mrs. Benson, running out of the lobby with a large feather duster in hand.
"Wait!" When she caught up to the group, Spencer now having got out of the car to see what the commotion was about, she threw her arms around Freddie. "I thought I missed you." Then she proceeded to shower his face and hair with kisses, his face turning bright red. Immediately, he tried to fight back, pushing her away.
"Mom!" he groaned. "We did the whole goodbye thing before I left the apartment."
Then out of nowhere, she produced a whole bottle of what he hoped was some kind of insect repellent and sprayed him with it. "Who knows what kind of awful insects they have in Boston—wait, I do. I did Moogle it, after all. Hm, plenty of bloodsucking insects that could give my Freddiebear something." Briefly, she glanced at the car. "Well, if he makes it there first. Just look at that car. It's a death trap waiting to happen. Hang on, and I'll just grab my car and—"
"No, mom, we talked about this."
"But—"
Freddie kissed her cheek. "I'll be fine."
Eventually, Mrs. Benson conceded and walked away, muttering something about needing to ship him a bigger bottle of insect repellent.
"Lovely to see you as always!" Spencer called after the woman sarcastically. "Come on, Freddo. We should probably hit the road."
Sam began to cough. "I'd offer you another hug, but you reek of that stuff," she told him, hand over her mouth and nose. "Or maybe that's your natural scent."
Freddie smiled at her gently from the passenger side. "See you around, Puckett."
"Smell you later, Benson."
.
A week in, and Sam was already ready to give up. Not only was the chef both rude and intolerable, but he also didn't take any new ideas or care to listen to what anyone else thought about the dishes. Honestly, if being arrested for assault wasn't a consequence, she would've quite happily knocked him out with a frying pan that day.
She came back to her dorm, threw a sausage roll in the microwave, and got changed into some sweats. Right as she was plating her food, her roommate got back. They gave each other a polite nod and greeting, and the girl then informed her she was going out for the night. She invited Sam to join her, but the blonde declined and said she'd rather stay in that night. Then, she was alone again, wallowing in her own pity.
For some reason, the idea of studying the rules of poaching did not seem appealing right at that moment, so she grabbed her phone instead.
Carly's phone went to voicemail.
And she knew that the drive back to the Bushwell was at least an hour from the university and she had an early class the next morning, so she groaned and scrolled further down her contacts to find Freddie's name.
It rang no more than five times before he picked up.
His voice sounded exhausted and strained. "Hey, Sam."
"Hey," she said back. "Why do you sound so tired?"
"Time difference." It took her a second to remember that he was three hours ahead of her.
"Oh, right."
A pause.
"Should I go or—"
"No, don't worry. It's barely ten here anyway. My roommate's out doing—doing I don't know what, actually. When I get off the phone to you, I'll text him. I've been at the gym after classes, so can't say I've been keeping tabs on his activity."
"The gym, huh?" Sam stifled a yawn. "What does your mommy think of that? Dude, just thinking of working out is making me exhausted and dizzy."
"My mom was pretty good with it surprisingly. Pretty sure if I'd have told her that a few years ago, she would've come with me to be my personal bodyguard in case someone dropped a weight on my toe or something."
Sam snickered. "Or she'd wrap you in bubble wrap."
"Seriously, don't give her ideas." Freddie laughed, too. "What's going on that's got you so tired? The last time I remember you so tired was when you ate that entire ham in four minutes flat."
"Three minutes and forty seconds," Sam corrected, and he could only imagine the disapproving frown she had on her face. "The chef on my course is intense – and I mean, intense. Like, coming from me, someone who has been to juvie and has family in jail. He's definitely something. God, if you even look at him wrong, you're kicked off the course."
"Sheesh. Sounds like the IT tech guy in the computer lab today."
They continued to talk for a while, content in each other's company. Minutes turned to hours, and before Freddie could blink, it was already past midnight his time. Sam, reluctant to let him go, knew that she'd better; he could be really grumpy when he was tired, so she said goodbye and waited for him to hang up.
When he did, she received a text a second later.
Go to sleep, Puckett (9:04pm)
And then another.
And hey, let's do this again sometime (9:05pm)
And they did.
The following night, Sam got back to her dorm room and pressed call on Freddie's contact. He answered a second later.
"Was today better?" he asked.
"Kind of. I didn't get yelled at again, which is an improvement."
"Well, it sounds like progress. Maybe he's just a bit dense because he doesn't know you guys yet. When you get to know him, maybe he'll even out." From Freddie's end of the phone, Sam could hear his voice being accompanied by vigorous typing.
"What are you doing, Fredward?" Sam asked, grabbing her notebook from her bag.
"Just this essay on the different types of virus protection servers and the advantages and dis—" He stopped. "You've stopped listening, haven't you?"
"Was only asking to be polite," she grinned, even though he couldn't see her.
The next night, they switched to Facecall.
"Dude, no," Sam said immediately, eyebrows raised. She had a large frown on her face as she glared at the facial hair Freddie was sporting. "I haven't seen you in almost two weeks, and I do not approve of that accessory."
"Hey, I like it!" he defended childishly with a pout.
"You know that old skit we used to do on the show? Well, my fake moustache looks better than that one!" Sam grimaced. "Come on. Go to the bathroom and shave it off."
"But—"
"Do you even want a girlfriend?"
Finally, he sighed and agreed that she was right.
"Good boy. Hey, no. Take the phone with you, sheesh."
This continued for a month. Every night, Sam would call him at the same time, and they'd discuss random topics until one of them fell asleep – last night, both of them had fallen asleep, and at seven am his time, Freddie woke up with them still on call. However, the next night, Sam had been calling him for an hour – and there was still no reply.
She'd even gone as far as to ask Carly to call him to see if he was avoiding her or not.
Yet, neither of them got a response.
Eventually, Sam gave up, discarded her phone on the floor where she had been laying and groaning, and buried her head in her pillow. She hadn't realised until that moment just how much she'd relied on their night time phone calls to keep her sane. Sure, she'd managed to make a few friends at college who she knew weren't just interested in her because of the web show, and she'd even built up the confidence to change university courses. Now, she was a major in childcare rather than catering; she found that the professors were a lot nicer than the chef ever was to her. It was Freddie's suggestion actually.
Now, though, it was a long weekend and only Friday night. What if he was to ignore her for the whole weekend? Then what was she going to do?
Her roommate, whose name she had finally learnt after a month of living with her was Bella, was busy getting her suitcase together. She was travelling to New Haven to see her boyfriend for the long weekend that night, meaning not only did Sam have nobody to talk to on the phone for a weekend but also had nobody physically to talk to either. The chances of her leaving her dorm for anything other than food was extremely slim.
From the bathroom, Bella called to her, "Is your boyfriend not calling tonight?"
Sam scoffed. "Boyfriend?"
"Uh, yeah," Bella said, confused. "You always talk to him. Is it Fred, Freddie, Frederick? Ah, I don't know. I try not to listen in, to be honest. But last night, after I threw that shoe at you to quieten down – sorry about that, by the way – I heard you guys talking and before I passed out, I could've sworn I heard one of you say I love you."
Sam stopped. Had she? Had he? From what she could remember from last night, she was sure she'd fallen asleep before him? Had he said it, either hoping she was awake or knowing she was asleep? Or perhaps they'd both said it platonically and she simply couldn't remember? The majority of their late-night conversations had blended into one by this point. However, she was sure she would've remembered saying something like that, especially to Freddie Benson, the one and only person she had ever said that to.
"Me and my friends even had a bet going that you were, you know, not into men," Bella continued. "We've never even seen you talk to a guy when we've been out. Last weekend, you seemed more into the waitress than the men."
"Because the men were so obnoxious and arrogant. Like, no, I didn't want their numbers."
"They were hot!" Bella pointed out. "I mean, I get why you didn't now, when you've got this weird relationship going on with your not boyfriend. If I didn't have a boyfriend, man, I'd hit that."
"Bella!"
"Hey, it's true." She continued to pack her suitcase full of almost all the perfume she owned. "If you're worried that he likes someone else, don't be."
"I'm not—"
"Don't lie to me, Puckett. You're worried that he's not calling because he likes someone else."
"No—"
"Well, he doesn't. I can see the way he looks at you. It's kind of envious in a way. I swear my boyfriend hardly looks at me anymore. Cherish this while you can." Then she was done, and she was saying goodbye to her roommate and on her way out the door. "He'll call," were her last words before the door closed behind her. Down the hallway, Sam could hear the rolling of the suitcase wheels.
She found her phone on the floor.
No new messages.
No missed calls.
"Maybe it won't hurt," she said, clicking his contact one more time.
However, before she got the chance to, his name flashed up on her screen – and she almost dropped it, surprised because he'd never called her first. Maybe once when she'd fallen asleep or lost track of time, but usually, she called him.
Her finger swiped the screen. "Hey. Why weren't—"
"Sorry, Sam. I was doing an essay." This time, though, his voice was accompanied with a familiar rolling noise. Then all at once, it stopped, and she heard a knocking at her door. Thinking the rolling had just been in the hallway, she assumed Bella had forgotten something, so she stumbled up off her bed and to the door.
Upon opening it, she looked down, realising that those weren't Bella's sneakers.
"I missed your voice," Freddie said to her, phone still pressed to his ear and hers still to hers. "And, well, also your hugs."
Sam clicked to end the call and allowed her arm to drop to her side, phone still tight in her grip. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, it's a long weekend, and I partly remember you mentioning that your roommate is away. So, figuring that you'd get pretty lonely, I decided to—" he was cut off by her throwing her arms around him.
"Thank you," she said. "Thank you for coming."
"You didn't think I'd miss one of our calls, did you?"
"You didn't answer!"
"I was on a plane," he laughed. "But I knew that if I called you before I got here, I'd spill that I was here, and it'll ruin the surprise."
"Hang on, how did you even find my dorm?"
"Actually, I bumped into your roommate on the stairs. I recognised her from that Facechat last week—you know when—"
"No, don't remind me!" Sam said quickly, covering her face with embarrassment. "I can't believe I let you convince me into playing truth or dare."
Freddie smiled at her, his suitcase at his side. "So, are we going to stay in the hallway all weekend?"
Sam let him in, and before long, the two were finally settled on her bed. They were watching some TV show on Carly's Tetflix account on the TV Bella's family had given to her for the dorm when the two had moved in. They kept a respectable distance between them, but Sam grew tired near ten and dropped her head on his shoulder. He threw the blanket over the two of them.
"So, what's the real reason you came?" Sam asked quietly.
Boldly, knowing that while she was in this state, she wouldn't break his arm, he leaned over and kissed her head. "I told you," he said back. "I love you, Puckett."