Bonus Chapter: "Wake Up Spencer!" the lost, evil episode.
Sam's sleep was rudely interrupted by the vibrating alarm of her cell phone. Slowly, her eyes opened and took in her surroundings. After recognizing that she had been sleeping on the Shea's living room couch, Sam noticed that the lights were out both inside and outside of the apartment, and that she seemed to have picked up a blanket since the last time she closed her eyes. As she sat up, she took a peek at her cell phone and confirmed what her body was screaming at her: it was three o'clock in the morning. She should be asleep for another four hours; eight if you added the average time she spent sleeping during class. What was she awake for again?
Three sharp knocks on the Shea's front door reminded her that she had agreed to film another segment of "Wake Up Spencer" with Freddie. Still partially under the drowsy spell of deep slumber, she stumbled towards the door and cautiously ran her hand over her face to check for drool and crusties. Her face passing inspection, she unlocked the door and threw it open. In the dim hallway lights, Sam found Freddie waiting expectantly in dorkish pajamas.
The pajamas in question were a matching set of top and bottoms decorated with a random interlacing of racing car tracks. After taking in the whole ensemble, she pleaded through compressed laughter, "Please tell me you were too tired from the dance to look at what you put on for bed."
Freddie shrugged his shoulders. "My mom ruined what I was wearing to the dance while she was putting my very own, private version of the Spanish Inquisition." He tossed an appraising gaze down at his clothing, taking note of the car tracks. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing anyway? I thought race cars were manly."
"The cars themselves sure, but not their tracks," said Sam matter-of-factly as she flicked her bangs out of her eyes with her hand. "Especially when guessing from the pattern of those tracks there's a fifty car pile up around your butt."
Jaw set in a determined manner, Freddie put Sam's clothing through a similar appraisal using the hallway lights. As his eyes rose to her face, a wry grin grew on his own. "I see you just went straight to bed. You sure that was a wise decision?"
"You didn't seem to have a problem with what I was wearing a few hours ago," said Sam, her arms crossing in front of her chest aggressively.
"The clothes are fine," admitted Freddie easily. "I think you lost some makeup on whatever pillow you were sleeping on, though." He curled up defensively, prepared for physical retaliation. When none came he took a peek at the girl's face and found unexpected signs of distress. Quickly forcing his gaze away from her hurt expression, he said, "I'll go get the camera ready."
As he bounded up the stairs two at a time, a sobering thought evolved in his mind. It began as puzzlement over Sam acting like a girl. After chewing that thought over for a few moments, he began to wonder if she had acted like a girl frequently in the past but he just hadn't noticed it before. Its final evolution was puzzlement over what had changed in him that allowed him to recognize the feminine side of the natural wedgie dispensing machine.
Sam waited until Freddie was comfortably up the stairway before rushing to the kitchen, smacking the light switch, huddling over the sink, and deluging her face in warm water. It took three rough scrubs before she thought she could feel her face with her fingers. After scrubbing one more time for good measure she glanced down at the sink, glaring at flecks of makeup that stubbornly clung to the metal basin. That was a rather tenacious organic product. Maybe she hadn't removed all of it.
As a camera equipped Freddie hopped down the last set of stairs he found Sam standing in the kitchen, staring intently at a spoon. Misinterpreting the scene, he asked with mirth coloring his words, "Getting ready to raid the fridge?"
Sam looked up from her miniature reflection in stiffened shock at being caught before she understood his question. That really wasn't a bad idea. Her expression became pensive as she wondered whether or not she was hungry, and then shifted to incredulous as she remembered that there was always room for pudding. In a fluid movement forged from countless repetition, she moved to the Shea's refrigerator, opened it up, and quickly retrieved two containers of pudding. With an equally practiced flick of her wrist, she sent one of the pudding cups flying towards Freddie's face.
A rush of adrenaline moved Freddie's hand up to cover his face and a burst of luck allowed him to catch it as it landed in the palm of his defending hand. In the flicker of a second he decided to play it off as though he meant to catch the pudding, sending a smirk at Sam before tearing off the aluminum top with his teeth and beginning to lap up the sugar loaded treat with his tongue.
Sam watched the scene with a bemused smile on her face. "How barbaric," she commented.
Freddie stopped halfway through his pudding cup, eyeing the girl incredulously as he asked, "How am I the barbaric one? You just threw something at my face."
Sam stepped within arm's reach of the boy, explaining, "You have pudding on your face." Her tilted head, still bearing a bemused smile, continued to stare at a spot on his cheek until her right pointer finger shot towards the spot in question and wiped the pudding off of his cheek.
Time moved in slow motion for Freddie as her finger moved towards her body. Not towards her mouth. Yes, towards her mouth. Blood rushed to the boy's cheeks emanating from the point where she had touched him. It ascended past her chin. Then it moved past her mouth, up towards her nose? Wait, it was coming back down quickly, past her chin. Then it went back up again. Time returned to its normal flow as he realized that she was just whipping it up and down to fling the pudding into the air.
After removing the pudding from her finger, Sam shifted her pudding cup to her right hand and opened the top with her left. As she began scooping the confection into her mouth, she said, "Next time, be civilized like me and scoop it up using your hands, eh?"
Freddie noticed with chagrin that she was using her left pointer finger to scoop up the pudding. "I thought you had a spoon," he said with a hint of confusion.
Sam indicated the spoon that she had left behind on the counter by raising an eyebrow in its direction. Looking back towards Freddie she asked innocently, "What does that have to do with anything?"
"You said be civil …" he realized with a sigh that trying to discuss civility with a wild animal was a hopeless task. Shaking his head, he put the camera down on the counter and followed Sam's lead, finishing off his pudding with his finger.
Pudding safely in their stomachs and cups placed neatly in the trash can, Sam commanded, "Let's go shoot the segment."
Shrugging in the complacent manner that surface after one has eaten dessert; Freddy grabbed the camera off of the counter and followed Sam towards Spencer's bedroom. "Should we try to get him to talk about pudding?" he suggested, his thoughts still hauntingly sweetened by the snack.
"Maybe we can get him to talk about dances," said Sam. She realized a second after she made the suggestion that she had just revealed what had been weighing on her mind. Her eyes snuck towards Freddie's face, and the blush she found there showed that he had also made the connection.
Freddie saved her from further embarrassment by turning on the camera early, stepping next to her and pointing the camera in their direction. In a hushed voice he said, "Welcome to the next segment of 'Wake Up Spencer'!"
Not missing a beat, Sam beamed into the camera, glad that it would be difficult to see her blush in the darkness of the hallway outside of Spencer's bedroom. "It's about 3:30 in the morning and we're about to wake up Carly's brother Spencer and ask him a bunch of random questions."
Freddie turned the camera towards the door, ready to open it and take a shot of Spencer's old-fashioned alarm clock. The door prevented him from acting on his plan. He felt Sam bump into his back, and prepared for the verbal backlash.
It came as soon as Sam recovered her balance in the form of, "What's the big idea, Freddie?"
"It's locked," whispered Freddie in amazement.
"You're kidding. He never locks the door," stated Sam. "Move aside, you're probably just too weak to open it." After a quick shuffle in the dark and a failed attempt to open the locked door, Sam's voice repeated Freddie's statement of, "It's locked."
"But he never locks the door," accused Freddie.
Sam shifted her weight as she pondered the situation. As a thought struck her, she asked, "Do you think he has a girl in there?" The two teenagers paused to piece together the situation.
"I don't think he has a girlfriend right now, and he said he had to be up early today," pondered Freddie out loud.
"We should listen at the door!" concluded Sam suddenly, shifting her weight towards the wooden barrier. Her path was obstructed by Freddie, who grabbed her arm and tugged her away. Frowning at her obstructer, she demanded, "What's your problem? This will be the easiest way to find out what's going on."
"We should respect his privacy. A locked door means we can't go in," hissed Freddie as he struggled against Sam's superior physical strength.
The girl raised an eyebrow in his direction as she stated, "I can pick the lock. It's not a problem."
Freddie sighed before answering, "That's not the problem." She had stopped trying to move toward the door, allowing him to remove his hand from her arm. Hands free, he looked down to turn off the camera. "We'll just shoot it some other time," he said with a small shrug of his shoulders as he fumbled for the shrouded off switch in the darkness of the hallway. When he looked up again, Sam was using her lockpicks to open Spencer's door.
After another round of "Pull Sam Away From the Door", Sam turned away from the door and towards him. Finally given a brief respite, he again relinquished his hold on her arm and began to mop the sweat off of his brow.
A fresh sheen of sweat emerged on his recently dried forehead as Sam stepped menacingly towards him and demanded through clenched teeth, "So you're telling me that I woke up at 3:00 in the morning for nothing?"
Desperate for an escape route, he came up with, "Er, maybe we could watch some television?"
"What's on TV this late at night?" asked Sam, a girl used to getting eight hours of sleep at night.
Freddie, a boy used to staying up all night on the computer with no television in sight shrugged, "Might as well find out."
"You're making me a sandwich," commanded Sam as the two teenagers retreated to the living room couch. Freddie veered off to the kitchen and did as he was told even though he mentally complained that it wasn't his fault Spencer locked his bedroom door for once.
After a few minutes, Sam and Freddie were seated comfortably on the couch, munching on their sandwiches (Freddie made it halfway through his before Sam confiscated it and finished it off herself), and flipping through the channels. There was absolutely nothing good on television, but the late night infomercials provided suitable cannon fodder for the witty teenagers.
They spent a long time tearing up the infomercials, until the weariness of dancing all night and lack of sleep caught up to them both. Sam was the first to fall, her eyes closing heavily and her breathing deepening into an even rhythm. Freddie, who had been pleasantly surprised to find out that MTV actually showed music videos in the wee hours of the morning, didn't notice that Sam had fallen asleep until he felt her head land on his right shoulder.
Stricken by a sharp feeling of déjà vu, he relaxed his shoulder and stared thoughtfully at the top of her blonde head. A week ago he would have immediately swatted her head off of his shoulder, but that morning he found himself thinking about how light her head felt and involuntarily taking in the sweet scent of her shampoo. He allowed his mind to focus on those thoughts so that it wouldn't have time to ponder the heavy question of why his feelings towards this beast turned girl on his shoulder were changing.
Eventually that mental exertion compounded with his physical condition, forcing him into his own private dreamland.
Carly awoke to a thumping sound on her bedroom wall, a signal that Spencer needed her assistance. A peek at her bedside clock told her that it was a little past six in the morning. Groaning out her complaint, she gathered all of her willpower to pick herself up out of bed. Once that was accomplished she somehow managed to drag herself to his door, give it a couple of raps with the back of her knuckles, and call out sleepily, "What's the matter, Spencer?"
"My door is stuck!" called out Spencer.
"What do you mean stuck?" she asked as she attempted to rub the sleep out of her eyes.
"I locked it last night because I heard Freddie and Sam say they were going to film another evil 'Wake Up Spencer' clip, and now it won't open!" her brother shouted through the wooden portal. "I think the lock is stuck because I never use it!"
As Carly's hand moved to try the door for herself, she noticed a familiar set of lockpicks sticking from the door handle. "Spencer, I'm going to try something," she called out as she removed the long thin metal files from the handle. "Try opening the door now." The door opened slowly, but instead of the grateful facial expression she expected to see, Spencer's face was twisted by a mixture of awe and fear. "What?"
Backing away slowly, he accused, "You're a witch now?"
Sighing, Carly ignored her retreating brother and headed towards the kitchen to prepare some breakfast. She took a quick peek at the couch to check on Sam. The quick peek turned into a petrified stare when she found her sleeping best friends propped against each other on the couch.
Spencer emerged from his bedroom only after convincing himself that Carly couldn't be a witch. She was too pretty and she didn't have a big wart on her face. He was busy wondering whether Lewbert's mole granted him any magical powers when he found his sister standing over the living room couch with a stunned expression on her face. Rushing to her side, he was treated to the sight of his midnight tormenters sleeping helplessly before him. A malicious grin formed on his face as he commented, "Oh, that's perfect."
"Really? I think they're moving kind of fast, personally," said Carly with a happier grin on her face.
"No, I mean grab that camera, Carly," commanded Spencer as he calmly walked towards the kitchen. "Its payback time," he muttered to no one in particular.
Carly did as her brother told her to, picking the camera up off of the coffee table and following her brother to the kitchen."What are you planning, Spencer?"
"It's time for a segment of 'Wake Up Sam-Freddie'," stated Spencer as he soaked a few paper towels in water. He looked up at his sister suddenly, a sour expression on his mouth. "Sam-Freddie doesn't sound that great. Freddie-Sam maybe? Fram? Saddie? Oh, that last one sounds like a term for softcore emo. 'That kid's not emo. He's a saddy.'"
"Whatever you want, Spencer," placated Carly quickly, eager to see what Spencer had planned. As she flipped on the camera and pointed it at her brother, she warned, "I'm turning on the camera now."
Viewed through the vividly colored screen of the camera, Spencer threw on the cheesy grin he always wore when he knew he was being filmed. He spent a couple of moments staring blankly into the camera before shouting (or, as he liked to call it, enthusiastically talking), "Hello and welcome to the first ever 'Wake Up The Two People Who Won't Let Me Sleep When One Of Them Sleeps Over Even Though I Warned Them That …" Carly interrupted her brother's long-winded rant with a forced cough. His train of thought lost, he took a moment to gasp back the air that he had just violently expelled from his lungs. Once that was accomplished, he threw a theatrical wink towards the camera and finished, "Today we're going to throw wet paper towels at their faces!"
Carly sent her brother a pained expression, hoping there was more to this plan. It was clear from the vacant look on Spencer's face that there was not. She contemplated stopping him or augmenting his plan, but decided that Spencer was owed at least one shot at the two of them for all of their late night sleep interruptions. Besides, the expressions on their faces when they realized that they'd been caught in such a controversial position should be worthy of recording in and of itself.
Spencer crept towards the pair of sleeping teenagers as he had learned to do from years of watching creeping greats like Jason and Elmer Fudd. Carly held back a giggle as her brother exaggeratedly tiptoed forward with his body lurching forward at an acute angle that would be impossible to maintain for long. As he came within striking range, he realized that maybe he would have the opportunity to lead them in an awkward conversation like they frequently did to him. He would tell them the sculptures had come to life and were dancing. That should be a good time. The thought put a smile on his face as he threw the first volley of wet paper towels at their faces.
Although he hadn't quite thought through his plan, the young adult had been mentally prepared for a few reactions to his soggy ambush. Among these reactions were the aforementioned half-awareness, petrifying shame, and absent-minded, horrified fleeing. He did not take into account Sam's pure hatred of being woken up. Spencer was therefore unprepared for what happened next.
It happened as though she were already awake before the attack, which she just happened to have been at the time. It had been difficult to sleep through Spencer's loud introduction, but it had been even harder to think of an excuse for her current position. Luckily, Spencer provided her with a proper way out of her predicament: retaliation.
Just as the first volley was about to land on Sam's face, her right hand shot up and caught the wet projectile. The sudden movement of Sam and the utter lack of a splash immediately followed with spluttering that seemed to have afflicted Freddie caught the Shea siblings by surprise. They reacted in different ways, Carly with a gasp and Spencer with a high pitched squeal. The squeal was soon squelched when Sam shot the soggy towel straight back at Spencer. A squishy thud provided aural confirmation that Spencer had been hit dead on. In the words of FPS Doug: boom, headshot.
Stumbling backwards, Spencer attempted to throw another towel as cover fire. It floated lazily in the air where Sam snatched it and fired it back with interest. It became clear to Carly that her clumsy brother was overmatched by the natural reflexes and marksmanship of her best friend. It was time to put down the camera.
Sam was just getting used to the game of catch and pelt Spencer when she felt a wet thud on her left cheek. Turning her head she found Carly grinning mischievously at her, right hand guiltily outstretched and a stack of wet paper towels waiting in her left hand. Realizing that she was currently flanked, Sam hopped back towards the couch for cover.
The world was a confusing place for Freddie most days, and this one turned out to be no exception to the rule. It had taken him a few minutes, but he now realized that the reason he was having trouble breathing was that his face was covered with something wet and white. Just as he was about to fix the situation himself, a hand reached over and grabbed it from his face, saving him from his sputtering fate. His savior turned out to be Sam, so he turned a grateful smile at her, prepared to thank her.
Sam didn't give him the chance to put his thought into action, as she hauled him up and pushed him in front of her. When she had been hiding behind the couch she noticed that the normally useless (and currently drowning) Freddie could provide two very useful things for this water fight: ammunition and cover. Using the hapless dork as a tower shield, she moved around the room pelting both of her opponents with paper towels that she peeled off of the pitifully squealing boy.
Freddie wasn't saved from the constant hail of wet paper towels until his clothing appeared as though he had gone for a fully-clothed swim. As usual, his salvation came in the form of his mother, who barged into the apartment after recognizing her son's squeals of distress through at least three walls. Even after almost breaking down the front door, no one noticed Mrs. Benson standing there until she shouted at the top of her lungs, "Everybody stop!" Sam swore for weeks afterwards that a paper towel she had just launched at Carly stopped in midair and dropped like a rock at the sheer volume of Mrs. Benson's command.
The three teenagers and Spencer immediately froze; rooted in place by the feeling that they had been caught doing something wrong by a higher authority. Taking advantage of the situation, Mrs. Benson snatched her son by the back of his pajama top and began dragging him towards their apartment. Having been accustomed to being moved against his will by this point, Freddie had the presence of mind to smile weakly at his friends and wave goodbye.
The Sheas and Sam didn't regain control over their bodies until the front door closed and they could faintly hear Freddie's mother lecturing her son on the dangers of water fights. The fighting trance had been broken, so the combatants all put down their ammunition slowly and surveyed their handiwork. The living room was littered with paper towels, and there appeared to be more wet areas than dry ones.
Sam shrugged and began moving towards the kitchen, her rumbling stomach reminding her that she hadn't yet eaten breakfast. As Carly moved to follow her friend, Spencer called out, "Wait. No one's going to help me clean up?"
Carly sent her brother a sassy smile before answering, "Your plan, your mess."
The argument was airtight, so Spencer sucked it up and began peeling the drying paper towels off of the couch. As his fingers began to prune, he mentally confirmed that the "Wake Up" segments really were evil.
Old Author's Notes: Thank you for reading my story. I know compared to many other fan fics, this was a significant time investment. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I have to give a big thanks to Nickelodeon and Dan Schneider for providing me with such wonderful characters to play with, and Jennette McCurdy and Nathan Kress for sparking my imagination with their rare chemistry.
Just in case anyone was still wondering, the reference I put in two chapters ago was to Jennette's role in CSI: Crime Scene Investigations. Many reviewers have correctly guessed the fan video reference, the "Just the Girl" video by tvFANatic26. There was also a reference three chapters ago to Miranda's past role in Drake and Josh.
I know there are going to be a few readers who are disappointed that I couldn't end the story with a more significant relationship level between Freddie and Sam. Unfortunately I felt that anything more than this would be pushing them out of character. One reason this chapter took so long coming out was that I had to scrap a significant amount of writing after re-reading it and deeming it too mushy to be viable. Honestly, however, I have to agree with Carly's final assessment at the end of the story. After two people who like each other realize their feelings, provided neither are emotionally scarred or tremendously anti-social it is only a matter of time before they do get together. I feel that through the course of the story Sam and Freddie have gotten through one of the biggest barriers to a relationship between two friends.
I'm going to take a couple more seconds to ask you to review my story honestly as a whole. I want to get a handle on what about this fan fic kept you reading until this point. Was it your loyalty towards Seddie? The plotline of the story? The romance? The comedy? The writing style? Also please don't be afraid to write what you didn't like about the story. I'm a writer who is both secure in his writing abilities and eager to improve, and I need honest feedback in order to do so. Please be as complete as possible.
Edited Author's Notes: I just hit 50 reviews the other night! I would like to extend my deepest thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story. I'll be doing my best to get back to those of you who have left me feedback now that the story is done.
Well, this is a little late, but better late than never! I think I can leave this story alone now. On my last read through it, it felt polished enough to me. As an apology to those who have been waiting for this freshly edited version, I've added a bonus chapter. It doesn't really have a place in the story as a whole. It just provided me with an opportunity to throw in a little bit of Seddie fluff and I figured most of the readers would appreciate something like that.
Most of the changes I've done to the story have been cosmetic in nature, trying to make the text less wordy and more concise without losing effectiveness. I also made the story more humorous to someone with my sense of humor, which hopefully matches up with a few readers. There have been some content additions, mostly in regards to Freddie's feelings. As a guy, I tend to underwrite the thoughts of my male characters in the earlier drafts because I view them as too obvious and simple to warrant attention. I recognize that this isn't the proper way to go about it, though, and so I take steps to fix this in later drafts. I hope I've done the poor boy justice this time around.
Once more, thank you for reading my story. I enjoyed myself, and I hope you have also.