Chapter 4: Stalling Tactics

Disclaimer: There was an old man. He had been married, but his wife had died many years ago. They had no children. He occupied his time walking the woods every day, sometimes for four or five hours. Once he came upon a snake that had been injured. He carefully picked it up and took it home. For days, he nursed the snake to health. The snake would curl up in the old man's lap and allow him to feed it mice. Finally, the old man saw it was time to bring the snake back to its habitat. He took the snake to where he had found it and set it on the ground. He bent down to give the snake one final farewell, and the snake struck, biting him and shooting deadly venom into the old man's veins. As the old man lay dying, he said, "Why? I took care of you." The snake hissed at the old man, "you knew I was a snake when you picked me up." The snake started to slither away, but then turned back, it's crooked tongue caressing the old man's pale skin. "Oh, yeah, only Dan Schneider owns iCarly. Just letting you know."

Freddie Benson woke up in a good mood. The night before he and Sam had acted like they always did. Carly had even made a comment about how she was glad they were getting along again. He and Sam glanced at each other, sharing a secret smile. They had been getting along fine, but not in a way Carly would have known or understood.

Freddie had a plan for tagging Sam. She had told him the night before she knew things about him. But she thought the only thing he knew about her was her neck, and that was only because he had eavesdropped. Sam was wrong, though, and he looked forward to proving it.

He thought it was funny how he had worried so much the day before, and now it was like he didn't have a care in the world, which, in all honesty, he had to admit he should. If he was going to do what he planned to do, then that was definitely moving up the ladder a little. If Sam didn't knock his head off for it, then he didn't know if she would attack him for any subsequent action, and what did that mean?

He knew Sam expected him to retaliate quickly. So he took every opportunity to get her alone and then didn't do anything. He knew that wouldn't knock her completely off her guard, but he might confuse her enough so that he was able to make his move when he really planned to.

That night they had rehearsal in the studio. He brought his backpack with him, because he thought what he had in it would help throw Sam off. All he needed was Carly to play her part. Luckily for him, she was actually still going out with that Matt kid, which was surprising, since most of Carly's relationships didn't last too long, and the ones who did turned out to be with real losers. Eventually, Matt called her, and she left the room to talk to him. Freddie got up and blocked the doorway before Sam could make a break for it, although she didn't seem to make much of an effort. She eyed him and sat down in the bean bag. He reached down into his backpack.

"You want some jerky, Sam?"

"What?"

"Jerky. Beef jerky. I thought you would like some. If not, I'll just eat it." He pulled a piece out and started to chew on it. He hated the stuff, really, but he knew Sam loved it.

"Give it to me," she commanded.

He smiled and walked over to her. He held out the remainder of the jerky, and she reached out cautiously and snatched it from his hand.

"Oh, Sam, they're playing a special on the twentieth anniversary of the last Galaxy Wars film, so I think I'll head home. Will you let Carly know?"

"Whatever, Freddoofus," she said, yawning. But he had seen that look in her eyes. The surprise...and something else. He left without another look back at her.

He lay on his bed that night, unable to sleep, thinking about what he planned for Sam the next night, and he wondered about that other look on her face, the one behind the surprise. Was it disappointment? Had Sam been looking forward to his next move?

At school the next day, he would catch Sam sneaking a look at him every once in a while. She wondered what he had planned, he knew. Whatever she might have thought the night before, Freddie knew that Sam was clever and calculating, and she had to know that everything he had done was a ploy. He was going to strike, she would know, but would she guess when? If she did, then his plan would be for naught, and he would have to come up with something else. There was also a very good chance that he could be interrupted during his tag, and that would give Sam victory. He didn't want her to have victory. He didn't want victory, either. At least not yet. He wanted to see how far the game would go, how far Sam was willing to take it.

After he got home, he double-checked his window, making sure it was locked before he left. He was going to check it when he come home later that night, too. He double-checked the locks on the front door, just to make sure they hadn't been tampered with. That seemed somewhat paranoid, but he had learned what not being paranoid around Sam could lead to.

Carly had invited him over, but he told her he was going to the arcade. He didn't need Sam to see his face and realize that he was planning something. He did go to the arcade, just in case Sam got it into her head to check for any reason. She probably wouldn't, but he would have if he was in her place, and he had learned to not give into his fear, but incorporate it into his plans.

Freddie's plan relied on several things. The first thing was Pam Puckett. Sam's mother had been infamous for her short-term relationships, but the current one had been going on for a month. And her paramour was extremely fond of bingo, which he played every Wednesday night. And Pam went with him. So, on that night, Sam would spend the night with Carly, although she really spent almost more time at Carly's than she did at her own home anyway.

The second thing Freddie's plan relied on was Schlockfest Theatre on Channel 2. Sam had become obsessed with low budget horror films from the 50s, 60s and 70s that played on the channel every Wednesday night. Carly wouldn't watch the films, so Sam had to go downstairs to watch them. The movies also drove Spencer away.

Freddie knew a few other things that would help with his plan. Sam would want something to eat while she was watching the movie, and for some reason that she had explained to him, but he still didn't really understand, bacon was the best food of choice for horror movies. So she would be in the kitchen. He knew the front door would be locked, either because Spencer would get freaked out because of the movies or because Sam would want to keep Freddie out. But the back door didn't have a latch. And Spencer had given Freddie's mom an emergency key.

But it was the last thing Freddie knew that he really was planning to use.

Freddie's mom was working a double-shift that night, so he didn't have to worry about her catching him sneaking out. He grabbed the key to Carly's apartment from where it was stored, and made his way to the backside of their apartment. He took his shoes off and set them to the side of the door.

He had constructed a periscope-like device from an old dentist's mirror his mom had used to inspect his teeth. He pushed it under the door and brought his head close to the floor to see. It took him a while to adjust himself to this new visual layout. He couldn't see much, because of the table and the countertop blocking the view of the living room. He looked at the watch he had brought with him. It was after ten. Carly was sure to be in bed. It was likely Spencer was, too, but he was a bit of a long shot. All he needed to do was wait for Sam to appear.

It took her nearly ten minutes. All Freddie could think was that she had already had a lot to eat, so she didn't need to fill up quite so soon. He angled the mirror to see her. He smirked. Just as he had expected. Sam was wearing boxer shorts, a large white T-shirt, and a pair of blue socks, essentially the same thing she wore every time she watched Schlockfest Theatre. He had been counting on that.

He cautiously put the key in the door. He knew he had to move quick, and he wasn't sure what Sam would do. She could scream, alerting Spencer, and foiling Freddie's plan. That didn't seem like something Sam would do. More likely, she would hit him in the head with a frying pan. That was why he had to both let her know it was him and make his move before she could stop it.

He took a breath in. He let it out. He unlocked the door and pushed it open at the same time. He pushed off the door frame and slid across the floor on his socks. Sam turned around, and her eyes widened.

"Son of a-"

And then she was in his arms. He pressed his lips to hers. Ham. She had eaten ham. He should have known. He pushed her lips open and pushed his tongue into her mouth, meeting her tongue. She returned the kiss, and for a while she tried to be the more aggressive kisser before letting him control the pace. His hands were on the small of her back, and he was fully aware there was nothing but a thin piece of cotton separating his hands and her bare back. Her arms went around his neck, and her body moved closer to his.

It was his time to tag, and yet she not only accepted his kisses, she returned them. Hadn't she said it was only a game to her?

He pulled away from her lips and moved his mouth over her throat. He let his teeth lightly push against her skin. He heard her moan, and her fingers moved from his neck to his back, where her nails pushed like tiny pinpoints.

"Freddie...you're...oh, god...not playing...by the rules," she said, and yet she took one of her hands and used it to cradle the back of his head, pulling him forward, as if she could somehow push his mouth further onto her neck.

He had waited for her to say it. The rule was that the person tagging had to go beyond what had been done during the last tagging. Though neither of them had specifically stated this was a rule, they both knew it. He needed her to say it, because he knew what he was going to do, and he knew why it had to be this night. Because Sam always wore the same type of thing during those movies, and one night they had been watching and she had spilled her drink on her shirt, and he had realized before she went to change her shirt that Sam wasn't wearing a bra. Because this was practically her house, and Sam dressed how she wanted in her house.

With a speed he hadn't thought he had within himself, he took his left hand and shot it up the front of her shirt and cupped her breast. Sam gasped, and he took the opportunity to meet her mouth again. For a moment she pulled her head back slightly, which only served to push her breast into his hand further. He ran his thumb along her nipple and felt it harden instantly.

As he had so many times since this game started, he thought, well, she's going to kill me now. The thought terrified him, but somehow it in no way matched his exhilaration and excitement. Maybe he would die a virgin, but at least he got to touch a boob.

Sam didn't kill him. He was ready to let everything go as soon as she indicated he had gone too far (most likely by kneeing him in the balls). But after her initial reaction, she pushed again, grasping his upper lip between her lips. Part of his mind was overwhelmed with the aggression with which she kissed him, and the rest was occupied with the softness of her breast. He stroked it gently. And then Sam moved her lips so that they were on his neck, licking him, kissing him. It didn't feel as good as when she kissed his ears, but he could still understand what she liked about it.

He gave her nipple a slight squeeze between his fingers, and he felt her moan against his throat. She gave a slight nip with her teeth, and he somehow understood that she wasn't telling him to stop, but was indicating that she liked it. He rolled the nipple between his fingers gently, and then he felt that he had to see her breasts.

She licked his adam's apple, and he raised his head. That was when he saw Spencer's door start to open.

Freddie dropped.

Sam still had her eyes closed, and then suddenly her lips were against nothing. She looked down, where Freddie was on the floor.

"What the-"

"What's going on, Sam?"

She spun around to see Spencer standing just outside his door, looking at her curiously.

"Uh-"

"What was that noise?" he asked.

"I burped," she responded quickly.

"You burped? That was pretty loud. You might want to get that checked out."

"Well, you know-eeee-um, bacon-flavored soda." Spencer stared at her. Freddie grinned, letting his fingers trace lightly up Sam's bare leg. Spencer couldn't see him from his position. Of course, Spencer could come over there and see him, and Freddie doubted that he and Sam could come up with a reasonable explanation. And yet, somehow, he wasn't concerned.

Sam brushed her feet at him, but he blocked them easily. He traced along the length of her thigh with his fingers, until he was near the edge of her boxer shorts.

"Sam, are you sure you're okay? You look a little flushed," Spencer said.

"I had some jalepeno tacos, Spence. You probably don't want to get near me, if you know what I mean."

"Gotcha. Okay, I guess I'll go back to bed. Let me know if you feel like you're gonna get sick, okay."

"You betcha, Spencer," she said. As soon as Spencer closed his door, she swung her foot back harder and hit Freddie in the gut with it. He made an "oof" sound and then started giggling.

"What are you laughing at, nub?" she growled.

"You have tiny Elvish feet," he said and pointed at them. She just looked at him.

"I'm going to watch my movies. Make me bacon." She went to the couch.

He stood up, gave her an elaborate bow, and began to make bacon. He fixed an entire package and brought it over to her on a plate. She pointed at the coffee table, indicating for him to set it down.

"Are you gonna watch?" she asked, with a tone that implied that she didn't care either way.

"What is it this week?" he asked.

"Creatures from the Darkest of Lakes, the Blackest of Lagoons, from the watery grave," she intoned and grinned at him.

He shrugged and sat down next to her.

She put her legs over his knees and gestured for him to hand her the bacon. He leaned over and grabbed it and presented it to her.

"Thanks, nub," she said.

His hand rested on one of her knees. She didn't note it nor did he move it. It just seemed natural to him.

"You can see the zipper," he said, pointing at the screen.

"Shut up. You're ruining the magic," she said, distractedly.

He glanced at the clock. He had to leave within forty-five minutes, or else Sam could tag him back.

"Freddie, get up."

Freddie opened his eyes. Spencer's face was roughly six inches from his own. What was Spencer doing in his bedroom? He looked around. No, he wasn't in his bedroom. He was in the Shays' living room. He turned to his left and saw Sam with her head on the arm rest of the couch, her mouth slightly open, light little wheezes coming from her. The empty plate was clutched in her arm. Her legs were still over Freddie's legs. She looks cute, Freddie thought. Cute. He had never thought Sam looked cute. He had thought she looked scary, sexy, beautiful, dangerous...all those things. But cute...that was more of a Carly thing than a Sam thing. But there Sam was, with all her cuteness. He looked to his other side, where her feet were. He smiled. Cute with her tiny, Elvish feet.

"Freddie?"

Oh, yeah, he had forgotten Spencer was there.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Half an hour until seven," Spencer said. "I figured you might want to get back to your place before your mom came home. She would probably have questions."

"Oh, yeah, thanks." Freddie extracted himself from Sam. He took the plate from her arm and took it to the kitchen and put it in the sink. He opened the back door and grabbed his shoes. He turned to see Spencer looking at him.

Be confident, Freddie told himself.

"Cool, I'll see you later, Spencer." He reached for the front door.

"Uh, Freddie..." Damn.

"What's up, Spencer?"

"I might have some questions, too." They both turned when they heard a smacking sound. Sam twisted around in her sleep, continuing to smack her lips. I bet she's eating something in her sleep, Freddie thought. Spencer turned back to him and gestured to the hallway. Freddie gestured for him to follow, rolling his eyes as soon as he turned away.

"What's going on with you and Sam?" Spencer asked as soon as they were in the hallway.

"What are you talking about? I was just watching a movie with her. We've done it before."

"Freddie, I'm not Carly. She might not understand that's something going on, but I know there is."

"I-" Freddie couldn't think of anything to follow.

Spencer sighed. "Freddie, I kind of think of Sam as my little sister. I've known her so long, and she is at my place more than she is at her own. So I'm a little protective of her."

"I would never hurt Sam," Freddie protested.

Spencer nodded, as if he expected nothing less. "I know you wouldn't do it deliberately, Freddie, but sometimes I think you only think about the Sam who can beat up anybody either you or I know. Sam's tough, but in some ways, she's not always that tough."

"I know that," Freddie whispered. He did. Carly was the girly-girl and Freddie was the nerd, but Sam, in her own way, was more sensitive than either of them.

"You know I think of you as a little brother, Freddie. Which makes what I think is going on a little squicky."

"I'm not having sex with Sam!" Freddie turned around, to make sure no one had heard him. He whispered, "I'm not."

"Okay. You're not. Yet. But you probably want to be careful, in many ways. Because Sam deserves somebody who loves her." He clapped Freddie on the shoulder and turned back to his apartment.

"What if I do?" Freddie asked.

"What?" Spencer asked, turning back to him.

"What if I do love her?" Freddie asked.

Spencer thought about it. "Then you probably want to be really, really careful. See you later, Freddie."

A/N: Wow, I have a bunch of new readers and reviewers. If you haven't read my work before, I have to warn you-I'm addicted to long author's notes. I'm sorry; I know some people hate them. Also, I'm male. That still seems to be a little strange to some people, and I'm getting a complex about it now. I'm sending you the psychiatrist bill.

I touch upon it below, but, yes, Sam is somewhat OOC, compared to how she is on the show, but I do believe, if allowed outside the confines of what is acceptable on the show, this could happen. As for her aggressiveness, well, it is Sam, and it's with Freddie, so, judge's ruling, I'm going to allow it!

Thanks for reviews from: Julefor, twelvex, MattFujiwara, Moviepal, mamaluvangst, Darsnider, TheRockAngel, KarmaLord, WhiteKnightro, maxiefae, crybaby452, Termite Tornado, axel100, Vetifer, sammiiilizziee, , pos, Geekquality, clarksonfan, werepyre Zele, Eat-Sleep-Read, afanoffanfic, Kechara7881, kimmyAllen, myjumpingsocks, lovesux93, alaskan-anime-girlie21, and sincerely-sweet.

Julefor: No, I know what you meant. You know me, though, sometimes I just have this overwhelming need to over-explain things. Over. Hmmm...do you think Sam said that to cover other things? I wonder. Quite a few people picked up on the harshness of her comment...but still waters don't run deep, do they? You are right that it might be an incentive to a guy, but it's not a guy, it's Freddie (wait, am I a guy?). I thought it would be too cliche to have an angel and devil on his shoulders, but he does have to weigh pros and cons, because it's Sam...and he's Freddie.

twelvex: I lived in Germany for three years. Ich spreche ein bischen Deutsche. Um, that's pretty much it. I suck.

WhiteKnightro: I always felt like Sam and Freddie had this communication simpatico that Carly never got, and I just like when they can say stuff like that and it just...whoosh...over her head. I don't necessarily think it's "impossible", nor do I think Sam is necessarily the "sexual assassin" she is making herself out to be. Obviously, I can't really argue too much that Sam is out of character, especially when compared to the show. I hope by the end of the story you feel that, if she isn't truly "in character", that I did my damnedest to get as close as I could.

crybaby452: I love how everybody (and I include myself) always hopes that things turn out well, when stories are built on conflict. I promise some turning-out-well and some conflict.

pos: Happy ending? I don't know if I can do that. I'm not really known for them. If you're talking about a different kind of "happy ending", all I can suggest is keep reading. By the way, just kidding above, I think most of my stories so far have ended with what could be qualified as a happy ending.

Eat-Sleep-Read: How did I come up with it? For some reason, the image of Sam and Freddie playing tag (I mean real tag, not like I'm writing it) just popped into my head. Then I thought of a couple of perverts who voiced a preference for a little more hotness between Sam and Freddie in my last story (I'm looking at you, SeddierFTW and PurpleJerk-although I guess at least one of them technically shouldn't be reading this ), and the story just sort of came together.

afanoffanfic: I can see what you're saying about the nastiness, but I would like to point out more than her nastiness Freddie's reaction to it. And what Spencer said in this chapter. There's a reason for the game; I didn't do it just to get them in sexual situations (well, not entirely). And I don't know about the friends thing. I have more male acquaintances, but when it comes to actual friends, except for my best friend, all of mine are female. And it's unlikely to go beyond that, unless I'm willing to have my wife do something to me that would make even Sam squeamish.

sincerely-sweet: I'd watch it, too, but somehow I don't see iCarly being moved to Cinemax anytime soon.