Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly, sorry to disappoint.
Author's Note: This is my first fic for this show, so I hope I did well :) The thought of writing fanfic came when I was watching the episode iWanna Date Freddie, and I kept wishing Sam would go all jealous. LOL! Didn't happen, so writing Seddie is my outlet!
"Get away from me, disease spreader!"
"I just want the ibuprofen! Sam, come ba—achoo!"
"See?! Disease spreader!"
Carly considered throwing the computer mouse at her two friends, but decided it might be better to actually finish her science report first. But, she assured herself, when the report was finished she would definitely fling it. If all went well, maybe one of them would be knocked out.
"You don't need ibuprofen! It has a weird name!" Sam chose this moment to hop over the couch, holding the small bottle of medicine protectively against her chest.
"That means nothing!" Freddie yelled, leaning over the couch and trying to yank away the bottle.
"I didn't touch you!"
"It's not rape, would you shut up?!"
"Unlawful touching! Rape!"
"Why don't you both shut up?" Carly shouted, standing up and wrenching the ibuprofen out of her best friend's grasp. "Sam, give Freddie the weird named medicine. Freddie, stop raping Sam."
"I wasn't—achoo!" Freddie's protests were drowned out in a fit of coughing, and he took the bottle from Carly without continuing. Sam looked on triumphantly.
"Why do you even need ibuprofen?" Carly asked curiously. "You aren't the disease spreader." Sam shook her head.
"Nah, my mom's sick too. I had to disinfect every room in the house yesterday." She shuddered. "It was not pleasant."
"She can't b—achoo!—uy her own ibuprofen?" Freddie asked, his words interrupted by coughs.
"Cover your mouth, nasty." Sam turned back to Carly. "She doesn't get paid 'till next week, and she's gotta save the money to buy groceries."
"Groceries are a staple of living," Carly accepted. "I'm nearly finished with my report. Freddie, go take the ibuprofen. Sam, find something to entertain yourself with. Like a video game. Or a ball of yarn."
"I'm not a cat," Sam announced, looking affronted.
"Go take your medicine, disease spreader!" Sam snapped. "What're you doing that report for, anyway?"
"Because it tends to help me get good grades." Carly frowned and looked at the document on her laptop. "I think I'm finished."
"Did you proof read it?" Freddie asked, looking much more affable now that he had taken the ibuprofen.
"Why should she do that?" Sam asked, digging through the kitchen cabinets. "You got fruit?"
"Second drawer to the left," Carly answered without looking up. "Because, Mr. Polk takes off for spelling mistakes. Good idea, Freddie. Wanna take a look at it for me?" Freddie nodded, still sniffing a little from his cold, and took Carly's seat at the computer. Sam walked back in, holding an orange with a look of victory on her face.
"What's the geek doing?"
"Shut up." Freddie typed in something on Carly's report as Sam flopped onto the couch. Carly shot them both looks of irritation and turned on the television, happy to find the channel already tuned to MTV.
"Duh, soda!" Sam hit her forehead, completely ignoring that this outburst might seem odd. She looked around for a moment before finally settling her orange in Carly's lap and going back into the kitchen. It was a testament to how long they'd been friends that Carly didn't say anything and merely shifted to orange so it would stop pressing into her bladder.
"You're really bad with contractions," Freddie said conversationally to Carly, typing furiously.
"You're really bad with girls," Sam deadpanned, pouring her soda.
"Because you're so wonderful with guys. When you aren't beating them into a pulp, that it," was his reply, lightening fast.
"That was uncalled for." Sam took a sip of her drink and made to go back to sit with Carly. "You don't mind if I drink this on the couch, right Carls?"
"Whatever, I'm doing it anyway." Sam started walking back to her friend, pausing with an irritated glance at the floor as her foot became caught in one of the computer's cables. Trying desperately not to spill her drink, she hopped lightly, attempting to disentangle it. Carly, caught up in the TV show, didn't notice, but Freddie did.
"Sam, you better watch it," he warned, flinching as drops of soda flew out of the cup and landed on his face.
"I'm fine," Sam said, her brow creasing as she slid her foot on the floor to get out of the grasp of the computer cable. "I don't need—"
And that was when she went tumbling down.
"My soda!" she howled, her hands sticky with her drink.
"My face!" Freddie cried, his face sticky with Sam's soda.
"My report!" Carly shrieked, slamming Freddie out of the way and looking with horror at the blank face of the laptop. She whirled around to face her sticky-faced friend. "Is it gone? What happened? Who did it? Tell me, Freddie!" Her screeches grew hysterical, and Freddie clapped his hands over his ears.
"It's fine," he soothed, stomping on Sam's hand as she snorted from the floor. "Don't worry, your report's still there, as long as you saved it. You did save it, right?'
That was fun to write :) Ha ha. But this is just the prologue—the plot hasn't even begun yet. Next chapter: Freddie's cold returns, Carly decides that there's a better way to get her report back, and lots of Freddie/Sam goodness. Please let me know what you think!