AN-This is sort of a continuation of the last chapter, which I wrote for Coco29. It's a continuation in the sense that Sam and Freddie are still married and living in Bushwell Plaza, driving everyone there crazy.

Argument

Freddie groaned as his alarm clock rang, waking him from his deep sleep. Shutting it off, he slowly got out of bed, yawning and stretching.

"Sam," he said sleepily, shaking his wife's shoulder. "Sam, come one. We promised Carly we would go up to her apartment and help her with that charity breakfast she planned."

"Shut up and let me sleep, dipthong," Sam mumbled, not opening her eyes.

"Get up," he said, pulling the covers off the bed.

Sam still didn't move.

"Fine," Freddie said. "But remember, Sam. You left me no choice."

He left their bedroom, and came back a minute later with a pitcher of cold water, which he poured all over Sam.

Well that certainly got Sam up. She jumped up, dripping wet.

"What the heck were you thinking, nub?" she hissed, pulling her soaked hair out of her eyes.
"I-I-You wouldn't get up," Freddie stammered nervously, slowly backing away.

"You don't ever wake me up like that," she said in a dangerously calm voice. "I wake up when I want to. Understand?"

"Perfectly, sweetheart. You know, you look really sexy with wet hair, it's a great look on- AHHH!"

Sam lunged for Freddie's neck. He moved just in time, and ran out of the room, Sam hot on his heels.

He flung open their apartment door and ran to the stairs.

"Sam! Sam! Don't! Killing me is not the answer!" he cried as he ran up the steps.

"We'll see about that!" Sam screamed.

As they ran down the halls, the occupants of the apartments sighed in their own bedrooms, barely batting an eyelash from the series of screams that could clearly be head through their walls; this happened at least once a week.

"Carly!" Freddie yelled as he reached the eighth floor. "Carly! Carly! Open up! She's going to kill me!"

Sam, who had been on his tail, took this chance to tackle her husband to the ground in front of apartment 8C.

She had him pinned down and was sitting on his stomach, her knee very close to his neck, when Carly and Spencer opened their door.

"Say it!" Sam exclaimed. "Say it!"

"I was a complete dork to dare wake up my wonderful wife!" Freddie said hoarsely. "I don't know what I was thinking. From now on, she can sleep until four in the afternoon if she so wishes!"

"Um, should we do something?" Spencer asked uncertainly, looking at his little sister.

"Nah, this is actually one of their tamer arguments," Carly shrugged. "No blood spill this time."

Sam got off of Freddie. "Got any bacon?" she asked casually to Spencer.

"Yeah, in the fridge."

"Dude," Carly laughed to Freddie. "What started this argument?"

"I poured cold water on her to wake her up."

"That's suicide!"

"Yes, thank you Carly"

"You know, Lewbert's starting to complain to me about you guys," she continued. "He said that your arguments are getting to loud and rambunctious."

"Why's he complaining to you about us?"

"Because when he went up to your apartment Sam pulled his pants down and threw her Fat Shake in his face."

"Oh yeah…"

"Can't you just cut down on the arguments a little, you guys?" Carly asked her two friends. "I mean, you're married now, for Pete's sake."

Sam and Freddie looked at each other.

"Nah."