Chapter 5: Reversing the Hold
Disclaimer: And so it was that on the fourth day Edmund set out on his quest, with only his horse and his trusted companion Targas. All of the town and his family lined the roads to see him off, and he felt pride in his chest, for he knew what he did was noble. True, he might never again see the village of his youth, but were he to die, it would be a good death. And, so, with righteousness in his heart, he set forth. As he crested the last hill, after which sight of his village would be forever lost, he heard his youngest sister yell, "you'll never own iCarly!" Gods, how he'd like to strangle that twerp.
Sam never doubted. It didn't matter whether her convictions were correct or false; she never doubted. It was a quality Freddie found both admirable and frustrating. Because he doubted all the time. As soon as he was convinced, something happened to change his belief. Spencer had done that with their conversation in the hallway.
He tried to talk to her several times about it, but she always circumvented it. Whenever they were around people, she acted the same. She would insult him, and he would retaliate. They were Sam and Freddie. But as soon as Carly or whoever else might have been there left, Sam made herself scarce.
If it didn't bother him so much Freddie might have found it amusing. It was Sam's turn to tag, but she was the one who was avoiding being alone with him.
Freddie couldn't think of anything else to do, so he turned to Spencer. He didn't tell Spencer what he had on his mind, only that he needed time alone to speak with Sam. Spencer agreed, and when Freddie came to the apartment that afternoon, Spencer quickly took Carly down to the Groovy Smoothie. Sam made an effort to get up from the couch, but Freddie had already locked the door. She sat back down and feigned nonchalance.
"Brains are getting scrambled there, Fredweird. It's not your turn."
"I know." He grabbed a chair and sat catty-corner to her. "We need to talk."
"You breaking up with me, Freddie?" she asked, smirking.
"Sam, we need to talk about this game."
"Nothing to talk about," she said, looking away.
"I think there is. What kind of game is this, anyway? I mean, unless one of us quits you know where that's going to end up, right?" He felt a little lightheaded just broaching the subject. Sam's cheeks reddened a little, but she said nothing. "What we've done is more than I've done with any other girl-"
"And, what, I'm a slut?" she asked, looking at him furiously.
"No, Sam, jeez. I know you're not. Believe me, I've been around enough times when you and Carly seem to forget I'm there and can hear you. No guy should know so much about menstruation!" he said, and was relieved to see a small smirk from her. "But, Sam, you said it yourself, this is just a game to you." He got up and sat on the couch next to her. He took her hand in his. She looked down at their joined hands and then at his face. "We're heading to uncharted territory here. We have been. Again, we both know where this game could end up. Do you really want that to be with a nub like me?"
In one motion, she pulled her hand from his and threw her leg over him, so that she was straddling him, a knee on either side of his thighs. She grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him off the back of the couch, so that their faces were mere inches apart.
"You're going to listen to me, Fredward Benson, and you're going to listen good, because I'm not going to say it again. Yes, I'm a virgin, and, yes, no boy has had the balls to even try to grab my boob before. If I wanted to stop it, you know better than anybody that I could. I know what I'm doing."
"Sam, this can't be a game."
"It's going to be," she said. She inhaled, and then looked away. "Obviously, you're into me. I can't blame you; Mama is kind of hot. And you're not completely undesirable." She looked back at him. "You know, nobody ever fights back with me...nobody at school, not Melanie, not Spencer, not even Carly, usually. But you...you always fight back. You're fighting back now, even though I can feel your hard-on."
Freddie blushed, and she pushed his face lightly with her hand.
"I'm not a delicate flower, Freddie. If you want to quit this, then quit. But don't think for a moment that you are taking advantage of me or that I couldn't crush you with my thumb anytime I wanted to. Oh, and also..." She reached down and pulled his nose between her fingers.
"Ow, Sam."
"The only person who gets to call you a nub is me. Got it?"
"Fine, Sam. I'm your nub." She released his nose. "But, Sam-"
She groaned. "You're such a girl, Benson."
"Apparently you're feeling differently," he shot back and was rewarded with another smirk. "I have to tell you, Sam, I'm a guy, and, not saying you're not great and all, but it doesn't really take a lot for that to happen." He gestured down at his crotch.
She leaned down and moved her face to his side, so that he found her once again near his ear. "So, you're saying that you don't think about having sex with me?"
"Sam."
"Do you?"
"Yes, okay."
"Do you think about having sex with Carly?" Her face was hidden, and he couldn't read her expression.
"No," he whispered.
"Freddie."
"No, I don't." His childhood crush on Carly had been more a thing of worship rather than desire, and now that the crush was gone, she was more like a sister to him.
"Do you think of having sex with other girls?"
"I...I am a guy, Sam." He felt her snort laughter against his ear.
She moved her head back. "Who do you dream about?"
"What?"
"Who do you dream about? When you have those types of dreams? Who do you dream about?" Freddie saw the expression on her face, one he seldom saw on Sam Puckett, something that was both hopeful and scared, and he found he could not lie to her even if he wanted to.
"You," he said. She smiled. They heard the door knob starting to turn.
"Maybe I dream about you, too," she whispered, and then moved off him, scooting to the other side of the couch and staring ahead.
Carly and Spencer came in. "Oh, no, are you guys not talking again?" Carly asked.
Sam looked at her. "No, Freddie just disgusts me with his wimpiness. I told him if he wanted a girl to actually like him, he should join the football team. Even the third-string losers get some action. Unlike him."
"Sorry I don't feel the need to do steroids just to get some skanky cheerleader to boff me," Freddie said. Sam smirked at him.
"I think you're just a pussy."
"Sam!" Carly said. "You know I don't like that word."
"What word? Pussy?"
"Cut it out, Sam."
Sam nodded. She looked at Freddie and winked. "Pussy," she said, popping the "p".
"That's it, Sam. Panties, panties, panties."
"Cut that out, Carly."
"Panties. Get your panties here," Carly sang.
"Pussy."
"Panties."
That repeated several times, before Freddie decided he needed to get out of there. Spencer followed him out.
"Everything okay, Freddie?"
"As good as they can be, I guess," Freddie said.
"All right. You know, I'm not going to tell you that you should do this or you shouldn't do that. You're a smart guy, and you'll do the right thing. And trust me, I'm the last person who should ever lecture anybody about...that sort of thing." Freddie nodded. Spencer was a great guy, but with the number of women he dated, he would be more likely to wear the "slut" moniker than Sam was. "I would say that you could come to me if you needed to talk, but I don't really feel comfortable talking about you and Sam...you know, like that." He waved his hands and shook his head, and for the moment reminded Freddie of Carly.
"I'll be careful, Spencer."
"Okay." Spencer looked at him for a moment and then reached out and pinched his cheeks with his fingers. "They grow up so quick."
"Stop, Spencer." Spencer let him go, gave his shoulder a squeeze, and went back into his apartment.
Freddie went into his.
"Oh, Freddie, I'm glad I got to see you before I went to work," his mother said. She had been working extra shifts, which worried Freddie. He was afraid she was going to overexert herself. She was trying to make extra money to buy Freddie a car, believing that if she did, he might be willing to go to college locally rather than further away. Freddie had told her she didn't need to, although he would have liked a car. He didn't like the thought of his mother passing out from exhaustion because of it.
"What's up, Mom?"
"That man, Gunsmoke, stopped by."
Freddie grinned. Gunsmoke, who his mother had hired as a bodyguard when T-Bo had told everybody that Freddie was the one who filmed the Shadow Hammer, had been pretty irritating to Freddie at first, but Gunsmoke had made it a point to check in with Freddie every once in a while, trying to toughen Freddie up. He had taken Freddie to the gym, but Freddie had been able to talk Gunsmoke out of the grueling weightlifting regimen he wanted Freddie on, as long as Freddie promised to combine his fencing with some strength training. They hung out every once in a while. When Freddie had said something about it, Gunsmoke said Freddie looked like he needed a father figure. It turned out that Gunsmoke used to be a Big Brother, but he was unable to do it consistently because his job took him away so often, which was why he sort of adopted Freddie.
"You're a pretty strange father figure," Freddie told him.
"Well, you're a weird kid. We fit," Gunsmoke had said. He didn't smile, which Freddie had thought strange at first, but years of existing with Sam had taught Freddie to read under the surface. Under the surface, Gunsmoke was busting a gut.
"What did he want?" Freddie asked his mother.
"He said he got some tickets from a friend he wanted you to have." She sighed. "It's that fighting stuff. You know how I feel about it." He started to protest, and she waved him off. "I know, I know. I still don't think it's good for you, but Gunsmoke did remind me that you are a wonderful young man. And that I should...trust you." That last part came out a little forcedly. She reached out and pinched his cheeks. "You're growing so fast."
Are there magnets in my cheeks? Why do people keep pinching parts of my face?
"Thanks, Mom." He sat down at the dining room table and began working on his homework. Twenty minutes later his mother left.
After he finished his homework, he took a shower. He had thought about going back over to Carly's, but he decided he needed a break from that situation, at least for a night. When he was in the shower, he realized he hadn't locked the door, then he shrugged to himself. So what if he didn't? What was Sam going to do, come over and kiss him? Let her, he thought and smiled to himself. He finished and put on boxers and a T-shirt. He sat down on the couch and turned the TV on, but really didn't pay attention to what he was watching.
He snoozed for a bit, and then woke up to find the news was on. It was after ten, so he turned the TV off. The doorbell rang, and he went over and opened the door.
Sam was leaning against the door frame. She was wearing boxers again, but this time she wore a purple T-shirt that was more form-fitting.
"Your mom home?" she asked.
"Working," he said. She nodded and pushed past him into the apartment. He closed the door and turned around.
"What's up, Sam?" She said nothing. She grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him to his bedroom. He didn't resist. She pushed him to his bed and then exerted pressure on his chest to make him lie down. She straddled his legs with hers and put one arm on each side of his head, her face only centimeters from his. Her hair fell on to his cheeks.
She smiled. "Tag, you're it." She scooted back and pulled him by his shirt. He wondered what she was doing, and then she pulled his shirt off and pushed him back on the bed.
"Not bad, Benson. A little scrawny, but I hadn't expected the muscles." She caressed his bicep. She grabbed his hands in hers and then pushed them on the bed above his shoulders. She lowered her lips on his. Unlike her aggressiveness the day before, these kisses were gentle, soft. He tried to push up to kiss her more thoroughly, and she pulled away.
"Not your turn, Freddie." He lay back down. She kissed him again, glancing his lips with hers. Then she placed gentle kisses along his cheek, until she came to his ear. She licked it with slow, maddening swirls. A groan escaped his lips.
"Somebody's happy," she whispered in his ear and bit it gently. He could feel his erection straining against his boxers and could feel her heat. She rested comfortably on him, but would move her hips away if he tried to move against her. As soon as he stopped, she let herself down on him again.
"You're a tease," he said.
"Am I?" She moved from his ear and lightly kissed his neck. Her hand moved down and stroked his chest and his abdomen. She pinched his nipple with her fingers, like he had to her the night before. She lowered her mouth down his chest, licking and kissing. One of her breasts grazed the top of his erection, and he felt like he was going to explode, shooting her into the ceiling. She licked his belly button, but stopped when he started giggling.
"Okay, no belly button licking," he heard her mumble against his stomach, and he laughed harder. "Stop laughing." He couldn't. But then she bit his stomach, not hard, but not too gentle, and his laughter stopped. She looked at him, smirking.
Oh, crap. She moved her mouth back up his stomach, nibbling as she went. Freddie's body would shiver each time she did so. She slowly licked his nipple.
"So, Freddie, you're into pain, huh?"
"Noooo."
"You're not?" She took his nipple between her teeth and squeezed it gently.
"Oh, shit."
She laughed. "Freddie Benson just cursed. You must really like pain."
"I don't."
She looked at him. She squeezed his nipple between her fingers, harder than she had before. He winced slightly and shook his head. Suddenly she smiled and lowered her head, biting the nipple much harder than she had before. Freddie threw his head back, and a little yell came from him.
"So...no pain. Freddie just likes being bit. Seems like Mama has a new way to torture." Her face was mischievous, but then she came back up and kissed him again. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a deeper kiss.
"You have to stop," he whispered.
"I told you, if you want to quit, Freddie-"
"No, I mean, you have to stop...now." He gestured, and she looked at his crotch, where he was straining against his boxer. And then Sam giggled.
"Oh. Sorry." She rolled off him, but then she rested her head on his chest.
"You're sorry?" he asked, surprised.
She looked at him. "Do you think I hate you, Freddie?" Her look was serious.
"No. I just think you like torturing me."
"Oh, I do," she said. "But even Mama has a heart." She looked down at his crotch and giggled again.
"Sam, for future reference, guys tend to take it personally when you laugh at their...stuff."
"Sorry. Is there something you can do?" She pulled her head up and looked at him. "Because we haven't reached that part of the game, Freddie."
He blushed. "I have something that helps."
"Well, I'm not watching that!"
"Not that! I have this thing I say."
"Like what?"
He sighed. She wasn't going to let him not tell her. Okay. Puppies in a blender, dead chickens, Miss Briggs making out with Mr. Howard, Mom making out with Lewbert, liver and onions, burst eyeballs..."
"Ew," Sam said, and then looked back at his crotch. "Hey, look at that." She moved her hand closer, and he felt himself tense.
"Don't touch it!"
"Geez, sorry." He looked at his face and started giggling again. Then she started laughing so hard she snorted. Freddie took the opportunity to slip his arm around her. If she noticed, she didn't say anything. Finally, her giggles slowed, and then stopped. For several minutes neither of them said nothing.
"Ew, Sam? You made me watch a movie that had about twenty burst eyeballs in it."
"It was the liver and onions. Blech."
"Hey, Sam?"
"Hmmm?" Her ear was on his chest, as if she was listening to his heartbeat.
"I have tickets to the MMA event tomorrow night. Did you want to go with me?"
Her head shot up. "MMA? Really?"
"Yeah Gunsmoke got them for me. Did you wanna go?"
"Are you inviting Carly?"
"He only gave me two tickets. Besides, do you think Carly would really want to go?"
"No, guess not." She moved her head, so that her chin was on his chest now. He could feel her breath on him. "So are you asking me on, like, a date?"
"Uh...we've gone to MMA before, Sam?"
"Not without Carly."
"Sure, but-"
"Because I don't know if I could go on a date. I kind of have this guy on the side. Purely physical thing, believe me, but I am pretty hot, so he might get jealous if he knew I was on a date."
He looked at her. He thought about what Spencer had said: be careful. "I guess we could just go as friends, you know, like we would if we took Carly. 'Cause we are friends."
"Yeah," she said.
"Who make out," he said.
"Play tag," she corrected.
"Play tag. Of course."
They lay there for a while. Freddie wanted to ask her to stay, but he knew if his mom caught a girl in his room, he would have to kiss his freedom goodbye until he turned eighteen.
"Well, it's been fun, nub, but Mama needs her sleep. Pick me up at Carly's tomorrow," she said.
"Pick you up, my ass. That's what I do for dates. Meet me in the hall," he said.
"Yeah, whatever." She left. He knew he would go to her. He always did.
As he expected, he was at the Shays' the next night. Sam was in full MMA mode. She was wearing her Jackson Colt T-shirt and already chanting for blood before Freddie was even in the apartment.
"This is gonna be so awesome," she said.
"Yeah, I'm sorry I can't go with you guys," Carly said.
"No, you're not," Freddie said.
"No, I'm not. Matt's going to take me to a play." She held her hands together and fluttered her eyebrows. Freddie shook his head.
"You ready, Sam?"
"Yes, let's go see some destruction." They did. Maybe it was something in the air, maybe it was the tiny blonde teenager yelling at the cage, calling all the fighters pussies, but fists seemed to be thrown harder, blood seemed to flow more freely. Maybe this wasn't a date, but Freddie had never seen anybody seem more pleased to have Freddie by her side. Whenever anything especially painful happened, she would clutch his wrist and yell excitedly. He had filled her with soda and popcorn and hotdogs. A tiny splash of mustard hung below her bottom lip, and Freddie had never seen a more beautiful sight.
"Back to Carly's?" he asked, as they entered the parking lot.
She shook her head. "No. Mom actually wants to know I'm alive every once in a while." They were alone in his mother's car, but Freddie had no plans to continue the game that night. Something told him not to. They drove in silence. Freddie glanced at Sam, who was throwing tiny jabs and elbows, reenacting her favorite parts of the fight.
When he got out of the car and walked her up her steps, she said nothing.
She turned to him, and to Freddie, she seemed an entirely different Sam, shy and unsure.
"Thanks for tonight. It was pretty fun. You can't tell anybody I had fun spending time with you."
"Never dream of it," he said. Something seemed familiar about them, he thought, something about this situation, something about the way Sam looked at him. Then it came to him.
This could be bad, he thought, but he shrugged it off. He leaned in and kissed her. And she returned it. But it wasn't like the kisses they shared during the game. It was like the first kiss. Their first kiss. Her lips were hesitant and her body tense, but not guarded. He pulled back slowly.
"What was that for?" she asked, quietly.
"Your guy on the side. I just want to make sure he knows that, if he's not careful, somebody else will be there to take you away. You let him know, right?"
She nodded, and then she went into the house, looking at him the entire time until she closed the door.
Freddie walked to his car, whistling. Be careful, Spencer had said. He didn't know if he was being careful, but whatever he was doing was...right.
A/N: Sometimes what Sam says is important, and sometimes it's not necessarily what Sam is saying that is the important thing.
Thanks for reviews from Darsnider, alexlee, Julefor, kimmyAllen, lovesux93, wazzabinho, axel100, Moviepal, TheRockAngel, Vetiver, Termite Tornado, pos, maxiefae, afanoffanfic, myjumpingsocks, mamaluvsangst, KarmaLord, clarksonfan, StandardNostalgia, Geekquality, deviocity, and twelvex.
Julefor: As for the movie afterward, that's just me doing my ebb-and-tiding. Only so much they can do before we delve into what? I just can't stand it. All you ladies just want to get to the grand finale. Haven't you heard of a little something called foreplay? Haven't you considered my needs? Oh, wait, sorry...um, off-track there. Actually, right now, I see about 10 more chapters after this one, but one of them is probably going to be essentially Sam-free.
axel100: Clearing up things too soon is no fun. Yeah, I know there are some things I tend to go into too much detail on (and some things I don't go into enough). Sorry.
afanoffanfic: I understand what you're saying, but I hope you stick with it throughout. Unlike Freddie, who is pretty open with his feelings, Sam sometimes has to have them dragged out or else they drip like a broken coffee filter. As for why Spencer went to Freddie and not Sam, I would say it's because he understands both of them and understands who is stronger for a particular type of situation. And also Sam is not very good at being receptive to advice. And I think the last thing anybody would want to do is discuss it with Carly, unless they wanted to see some wacky plan that would backfire. Hope the grumps go away. Thanks for the review, even if you're not necessarily happy with how it's going so far.
Twelvex: I think you wrote, "Really? Where in Germany where you?" Sorry if I got that wrong. I was at Ramstein. And, yes, I really do have all the necessary accouterments to be called male. As for Spencer, he knows something is going on, but he doesn't know exactly what it is, so, no, he didn't catch them that night. Spencer's goofy and thinks on a different plane than other people, but he's not a moron, and he can put things together. Game is still safe, though.