Chapter 1:
iF I Could Save Time in a Bottle
If I could save time in bottle. The first thing that I'd like to do, is to save every day 'til eternity passes away just to spend them with you. If I could make days last forever, if words could make wishes come true. I would save every day like a treasure and then, again I would spend them with you. - Jim Croce
The early morning sun filters through the window, casting a soft pink and gold hue over my white satin sheets. A bit extravagant I know but the I justify the expense because the summers are hot here and I like to sleep with the patio door open. I love the feel of them, the way they slide over my legs when they are freshly shaven after a warm bath. Its like being dipped in cream. I love them even more when the ride low over his hips and I get a glorious view of the rise and fall of his stomach as he breathes. Every once in a while the fabric slips and he glides his hand over them, catching them before I get the chance to see the better half of him.
I frown.
Sleeping Freddie Benson is a tease.
I love these moments when I am allowed to watch him sleeping. It is an indulgence I have secretly enjoyed since we were teenagers.
One night, when we were 17 I found him downstairs stretched across the couch; one arm flung wildly over his head, the other splayed across his stomach where his shirt rode up exposing the hint of a six pack. I couldn't help but smile; because I've always thought boys are cute when they are sleeping. Not all boys. This one. My eyes swept over him from that hand to his face and back to his lips. He smirked in his sleep, and I couldn't stop the rush of whatever this feeling was that made my stomach tingle. I leaned over the back of the sofa watching the rise and fall of his chest as he slept. I was so close to him; if I leaned over just a little bit more.
If only, I weren't Carly. But I am.
How had I not noticed til now that he smelled like a mix of chocolate, old books, cinnamon and everything that was warm or wonderful.
He rolled to his side, mumbling something in his sleep akin to the countdown he does when we are just about to go live. I smile. Just like him to dream about iCarly, then his brow flexes and he frowns. Now there's nothing more I want to do than to kiss away whatever sadness that caused such an expression. I dared myself to push an errant strand of unruly brown hair from his forehead.
I sat in the space he made on the edge of the couch.
He stirred.
I stilled.
And then chestnut eyes flicked open meeting mine, searching intently. There was barely any light in the room save the faint trace of moonlight that shown through the window behind us. I brought my hand to his cheek and his eyes closed. I didn't dare say anything, afraid doing so would break the moment passing between us. I felt his jaw clench, he swallowed and before I knew it he had pulled me on top of him. His hand flexed on my hip gripping me tight as he rolled me beneath him and captured my lips with his own.
When he pulled from the kiss, there were no words spoken, just ragged breaths and the sound of my heartbeat rushing in my ears. He stared at my lips and I nodded so he kissed me again, softer. I was pinned by his weight to the couch, his knee between my legs so I ground into it, and he groaned. It was every emotion and every sensation all at once and we were both shaking from it. His hand found my breast over my shirt, taking it in his palm; and if this was what the heavy petting Sam told me about felt like, I should have done it a long time ago. Except I never did with the other boys even when they tried, I wanted it to be him.
I gasped.
Then the realization he wasn't dreaming hit and he pushed himself off me. Eyes wide. He whispered a strangled "Oh My God," and practically ran from my apartment to his own.
We never spoke of it again, but it was always hanging in the air between us. It was there when he randomly asked me if it was too late to love him with a mouthful of pretzels in the middle of a crowded school hall; and most of the reason I kissed him in the studio before I left for Italy.
He stirs beside me pulling me back from our past into the present.
"Hello" he says with a sleepy smile, arching a brow and blinking against the offending sunrise. His voice is thick from sleep and its timbre vibrates something deep inside me and I feel the first flickers of desire burn low in my belly.
"Hey you," I bring my hand to his cheek and brush a stray eyelash off of it, balancing it on my fingertip holding it in front of his lips to blow, "Make a wish." I say softly.
He furrows his brow regarding me with the same expression he wears when hes doing the Sunday paper crossword in pen. For a man who is essentially a walking Wikipedia page, its nice to know that I can still stump his massive brain every now and again.
He closes his eyes and complies with my odd request with a gentle puff of air from pouted lips.
"What did you wish for?" I ask, leaning over to place a kiss on his collarbone above a small scar and I file it away to ask about where it came from later. I don't remember it being there before, but then again there are still so many mysteries we have left to solve and so much time left to discover them. I rest my chin in the palm of my hand and look at him expectantly.
"If I told you that, it wouldn't come true now would it." he pins a kiss to the tip of my nose and then gives it a little dot on the tip with an outstretched finger. So this is what being in love feels like. He and I in bed in the still of the Saturday morning, listening to the muted sounds of a waking Seattle creeping through the patio door.
" I think that rule only applies to birthday candles." I say tucking my pillow under my chest.
Freddy stretches and scratches his morning stubble covered chin, pushing a hand through his hair causing it to stand on end in the front. How this man can look like a full breakfast every morning is beyond me. I've just recently stopped sneaking out of bed to put on mascara and blush before his alarm went off so he didn't have to wake up next to Quasimodo. That was before he caught me in his bathroom once, tossing me over his shoulder and muttering under his breath about my CPAP and Darth Vader before tossing me on his bed on my ass, ordering me to never make him wake up without me in his arms again.
"What time is it?" he says rolling over on his stomach propping himself up on his elbows reaching for his watch on the nightstand. He shakes it and the screen comes to life casting him in an amber glow that halos around him, making him look almost angelic.
Almost.
Because he was quite the devil last night. My inner thighs still ache in a good way.
"Around 7:00. Why?" Since when have we been so preoccupied with time? We wasted a decade of that already. I just lie there, watching as he adjusts the watch to his wrist and taps through a few of the messages.
He smiles wide giving me a side eye. "What are you staring at Shay?"
I'm busted.
"Not working today?" he sounds hopeful as he reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "Cause you are usually up by now mapping out a storyboard, and answering emails" he bumps his shoulder against mine, " or sliding into those yoga pants I fucking love so much." he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively but it comes out more Adam Sandler than it does Cary Grant. He's looking at me with so much tenderness that I have to swallow past the lump that has formed in my throat. Did he always look at me like he was a sunflower and I was the sun? I truly hate that it took me so long to figure my shit out.
"Its Saturday remember," I say tracing a finger over his shoulder blade, raking my nails softly over his skin; he shivers. " We agreed Saturdays were just-because days."
"Oh yeah right. Just because I have to edit doesn't mean I should"
"Just because Paul has texted 15 times doesn't mean I have to answer it." I reach for my phone and he swats my hand away.
" Just because I have to calibrate the lighting in the studio before we go live on Tuesday doesn't mean it can't wait until Monday." he rolls over and folds his pillow under his head and I crawl closer to him because I can.
"Just because there's a half naked man in my bed doesn't mean he's going to get to sleep in." I lean up and kiss him softly on the mouth and tangle my hand in the hair on the back of his neck, showing him that I want nothing better than to spend the entire day here in bed making out with my best friend.
As our lips part he licks his lower one again, "We will see about that." he huffs. His eyes darken when I roll him onto his back and straddle his waist, he smiles that crooked smile of his, so I take his lower lip in between my teeth. He tangles his hand in my hair pulling me into a deeper kiss. Parting my lips with his tongue.
We pull away from each other and his eyes meet mine. In some ways he's still that chubby cheeked boy next door who swore he would love me even when it caused him constant pain. So I kiss him again as a silent apology for being that source for so many years. But then again, had I not moved to Italy and I hadn't broken his heart... I stroke his cheek and he kisses my palm... If we both hadn't had to fall to pieces alone separated by both geography and wounded pride; we wouldn't be where we are now and grown up Freddie and Carly are better than good, we are the best. "I like Saturdays." he says blushing.
I nod in agreement and brush my nose against his.
Freddie reaches for the strap of my nightgown and I slap his hand away and pin his hands above his head, kissing him hard and full on his lips. He whimpers and I love that I have this much power over him. Its intoxicating. Today is about showing him exactly how drunk on him I am. The normally verbose tech geek is rendered virtually speechless.
"I want to touch you." he whispers between moans and I can feel him buck his hips under me, so tighten my grip on him with my thighs and still his movements. I grind down into him and my reward is watching him bite his lower lip as he slowly comes undone with a breathy "Oh My God." only this time hes not running away, only toward.
"No sir." I warn.
His wounded expression is met with my tongue in teeth grin.
"Carly." he says my name like it's a prayer as he shakes his hands loose. I damn his incredible upper body strength and quick reflexes when he places his hands on my hips and rolls us to the floor below. We land tangled in the top sheet one of the pillows falling on my face so I pick it up and shove it in his. I giggle and he grinds himself slowly against me causing me to forget everything but how much I need to feel him inside me. I pull my hair over my shoulder and tuck the aforementioned pillow behind my head while he's peppering kisses down my forehead to my chin.
"I like the floor" he growls, reaching down to pull my nightgown up over my waist, brushing his palm over my navel, before his skilled fingers find their intended destination. I arch under him as his mouth finds that spot he loves so much behind my ear.
"Me too" I whisper, my fingers dancing a trail down his spine, causing him to shiver. His smile is predatory in a good way, and he grips my hips tight, marking me, I am going to have one hell of a bruise tomorrow and I don't care.
Our bodies join and I am amazed by how perfectly we fit together. We have the next 20 years of Saturday's for slow and reverent. This morning is about staking claims on one another.
And we do.
Its not long before I cry out his name and he follows, leaving us both breathless and shaking. He lifts me to the bed and wraps himself around me. Pulling the silk sheets over our slick and warm bodies. "Did I hurt you?" he says running his hands over me softly.
"No. Everything is fine." I say taking his hand and placing it between my palms. He searches my face for any hint of deception with soft brown eyes, and detecting none his face relaxes. He is the gentlest of souls and I can't recall ever being treated with such genuine concern after we get caught up in each other and its a bit rougher than the usual slow way we make love. No partner was ever more into aftercare than Freddie is with me, "Its not just fine. It's perfect." I say smiling warmly. My body still humming.
I feel him sigh contentedly as he drops his head to my shoulder running his fingers lightly up my arm. "Do you really want to know what I wished for?' he asks placing feather light kisses to my neck.
"Yes" I say as I roll over to face him. " Wait.. No...Don't tell me because it wont come true." I say placing a finger over his lips. He kisses it tenderly.
I'm pretty sure that was the morning that Sam was conceived.