A/N: Let it be known, this fic is dedicated to Manda. Thank you. Carry on. I do not own iCarly. Je ne possede pas iCarly. Yo no poseo iCarly. That's all the languages I know. I think I've made myself clear. Moving on! It seems the inspiration for Spam one shots is endless for me. I can't help myself. Don't judge. Or, I don't know, feel free to judge me. That's cool too. In the wise words of Blues Traveler, but anyway… Enjoy the fic, eat the fic, breathe the fic, be the fic, lick the fic, bite the fic, befriend the fic, hit on the fic, sleep with the fic, marry the fic, have the fic's babies, love the fic, nag the fic, hate the fic, divorce the fic, take the fic's money, take the fic's children, leave the fic living in the street, get annoyed with the fic, have the fic killed, WRITE A REVIEW OF THE FIC IN THE FORM OF AN OBITUARY, rinse, lather, repeat as needed.
The apartment was horribly quiet without Carly around. Honestly, it was driving Spencer mad. He was beginning to understand why Mrs. Benson had gotten so crazy (okay, crazier…) when Freddie tried to move out. Oh, yes, he was beginning to understand. There was a sickening emptiness to the apartment with Carly gone. He kept trying to talk to her and then remembering – she wasn't there. And if she wasn't there, then no one else was, because why would Freddie and Sam be over without Carly? Sam… he missed her. He hadn't seen her in a week. Not since Carly had left for Yakima to visit their granddad. Of course, he missed Carly more, because Sam was not his little sister, and of course he missed Freddie too, but Sam…
The silence in the apartment was driving him completely mental. He was sure if he couldn't get some kind of noise going he was going to end up like that man he'd seen strolling casually down the street wearing nothing but several pairs of underwear on his head and holding a sign that read 'will unclog your drain for underwear.' Of course, his sign would read 'will sculpt you out of rice crispy treats for underwear,' and that wasn't nearly as appealing, and also wouldn't fit on such a small piece of cardboard, but that really wasn't the point. The point was, he was going insane with the quiet. Earlier he'd blasted music at full volume, but someone had complained and Lewbert had come up and shouted at him and his wart had looked particularly menacing, so that option was out and there was no way he was turning the TV on, because the day after Carly left he'd forgotten to pay the cable bill and now the only channel they got was the Dingo Channel.
Most of his options for sound were out, so he was slumped on the couch, arms limp at his sides, fingers drumming silently on the cushions as his eyes darted about, searching for some distraction from the silence. No such luck. Scowling, he shut his eyes and tried to imagine the apartment the way it would be when Carly returned and Freddie and Sam started visiting again. Loud – it would be loud again. They would chatter and run about and cause some sort of catastrophe, which he would gladly help them sort out. And Freddie would pine for Carly, and Carly would ignore him, and Sam would mock Freddie openly, and perhaps chase him around the apartment for making a smart remark about her mother. And then Carly would turn to him to make them stop, but his attempts would fail, because they all knew he wasn't really bothered. And besides, he would be too busy trying not to notice how adorable Sam was when she laughed, or how she tossed those long, blonde curls of hers over her shoulder when she prepared to insult Freddie, or how, on occasion, she would catch him watching her and even after he looked away her eyes would linger on him as he sculpted. And he'd be much too busy trying not to be aware of the reason behind his noticing these things to go completely mad and end up a nude man with underwear on his head…
But really, he couldn't help but notice such things. And Sam certainly didn't help, what with the way she sometimes patted his arm when he got overly excited about things, or the way she understood the things he said before anyone else… And she was pretty… Beautiful, even. But he meant that in a total older-brother way, like when he said Carly was pretty, because Sam was his little sister's bestfriend and he was twelve years older than her and anything but an older-brother way was wrong, because a sixteen year old girl could not and would never want to be with a twenty-eight year old man and… what had he been thinking about again?
The apartment door opened and closed with a slam and he jumped to his feet and shrieked as Sam stormed in. "I wasn't thinking about you at all!" He shouted, throwing his arms up in the air as if she was a cop and she was about to tackle and handcuff him. Actually, being tackled and handcuffed by Sam didn't sound half bad…
But she paid no attention to his shouting and just looked at him with what he suddenly realized were big, teary blue eyes. Sam was crying. Samantha Puckett was standing in front of him and she was crying. He felt as if someone else needed to be there to confirm that this was, in fact, happening. Because, to the best of his knowledge, Sam did not cry, and when she did, she didn't let anyone see her do it – with the exception of Carly. But, he realized slowly as she avoided his gaze and stared at the floor as she whimpered and sniffled quietly, Carly was not here. Carly was in Yakima. And Sam needed someone. It seemed that, for now, that someone was him. "Sam?" He said quietly, dropping his arms to his side and taking a step towards her.
It only took that one word and that one step and then she let out a very loud sob and threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him like a vice as she began to sob wildly. The force of her hug knocked the wind out of him and sent him toppling back onto the couch; she didn't let go, she just moved with him, curling onto the couch beside him and sobbing into his shirt. For a moment he was struck by the fact that this was completely absurd – her loud sobbing as she clung to him – but then he remembered that this was Sam and she was crying and he immediately moved into big-brother mode. Or at least it was as close to big-brother mode as he could get while Sam was pressed so tightly against him.
He attempted to force himself into more of a sitting position, as he was splayed rather awkwardly on the couch and it wasn't the best position to be in while trying to focus on making her feel better and not on the fact that she was pressed very, very close to him and her lips were actually touching his chest, even if his shirt was in the way and she was sobbing uncontrollably… But Sam was not willing to move so that he could sit up, so instead he stroked her hair softly and reminded himself that she was sixteen. "Sam?" He said again.
She sobbed what sounded like very garbled English into his chest in response. "Sam, what's wrong?" He tried again, wrapping his arms around her reluctantly. More garbled English and a few sobs that sounded as if she was running out of air. He stopped trying to get her to talk and decided it was better just to calm her down. His hand rubbed circles on her back like he would have if this was Carly who was upset and then he reached down slightly so that he could lift her and shift into a sitting position. This time she obliged, allowing him to sit up, but not releasing her arms from around his waist. The result of this was that she ended up curled in his lap, and though, again, this was probably what would have happened if it was Carly he was comforting, it felt different with Sam. Her arms moved up so that she was bit more upright and she buried her face in his shoulder instead of his chest as she sobbed. He continued to rub her back gently.
"It's okay, Sam. Whatever it is, it's okay. Shhh, it's okay. It's going to be okay." He settled into this phrase, repeating it over and over as he rubbed her back and tried to quiet her sobs. He didn't know how long it was before she calmed down and was simply sniffling, her face still buried in his shoulder. It felt like hours to him – but that was just because he was having trouble focusing with her in his lap. In reality, it was probably only a minute or two. When she was quiet, he shifted, trying to move so that she would have to lift her face from his shoulder. At first she didn't respond, but then she gave a little sigh and lifted her head; he noticed, though, that she did not let go of him or even attempt to move from his lap.
"See?" He said softly, smiling at her. "It's okay. You're okay." Impulsively, he leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. He froze for a second after doing it – it was what he would have done with Carly, but again… Sam was different. He was afraid she'd think it was weird, afraid she'd call him a scary old pervert and run away from him. But when he pulled back she just sniffled slightly and gave him a watery smile and he realized that the kiss had been nothing more than a big-brother kind of thing to her – but it had felt like so much more. He sighed. Oh, how he wished it had been more… Shaking his head, he tilted his head to smile inquisitively at her. "So, are you gonna tell me exactly what this about?"
She sniffled some more and finally released him so that she could wipe her eyes – not that she really needed to; most of her tears had been absorbed by his t-shirt. She still didn't move from his lap. "My mom's new boyfriend came over tonight –" She let out a half sob as she spoke and he tensed, ready to hear whatever horror had her so upset, ready to find her mother's boyfriend and probably get beat up by him if he'd touched one hair on Sam's head. "-And he's a chef, so he was making us dinner…" She half-sobbed again and Spencer's brow furrowed. This was not the direction he'd been expecting her to go. "But my mom forgot to shop, so all we had was this tofu crap that her last boyfriend left behind, because he was a vegetarian, so the new guy made –" She paused here, as if completely horrified by what came next. "Tofurkey!" She shrieked, letting her head fall against his shoulder. "And he made me eat it!" She shouted, her voice muffled because her head was once against pressed against him.
Spencer paused for a moment and then he began to laugh. Of course that was why she was upset. Of course! This was Sam! He began to laugh even harder when she muttered a muffled " 's not funny" and then rolled off his laugh to sit beside him, sulking as she stared at the wall over the tv.
He was laughing so hard that he was crying now and she punched his arm, eliciting a yelp and a very hurt look from him; immediately, she looked very sorry, and he smiled again and took a deep breath to calm his laughter. He patted her hand gently and then jumped from the couch. "Right. I'm going to get a clean shirt and then what would you say to a nice dinner-breakfast?"
Sam eyed him cautiously. "Will there be bacon?"
"And sausage!" He said indignantly. "What do you take me for, a vegetarian?"
She grinned then. "Then I say hallelujah to your dinner-breakfast, Spencer!"
He laughed and trotted off to his room to change, suddenly feeling very happy.
And Sam grinned to herself, because she'd gotten exactly what she wanted and more in the form of Spencer's lips pressing against her hair.