Just writing some exams to release the tension that is final exams! Though I don't know how often I can be on (the computer is dead and I have summer assignments.) And as of now I am disclaiming the fact that I don't own these people, so put away your badges and scary guns.
"Do you have any ketchup?" Sam asked ransacking my fridge, once again.
I lifted my head from the list of ideas I was writing for our next show. "We ran out. Remember, you poured the last of it down Freddie's pants yesterday." I continued writing.
"That wasn't my fault. He lost the bet." She grabbed the maple syrup off the top shelf. Shrugging her shoulders she proceeded to pour it over her french fries.
I scratched my head with the eraser end of my pencil. Little pink pieces remained in my hair, but I didn't bother to brush them out. It wasn't like I was going anywhere anytime soon. Or trying to impress anybody.
Sam noticed my abnormal silence and started to say something with her mouth full. Before I could stop her, mystery colored crumbs were flying in my direction. I didn't bother to duck, because like I said, I'm not trying to impress anyone.
"You know maybe next time, the wager should be these babies down the losers pants." She swirled the fry around in the syrup.
I stopped writing and stood up. "What happens if you lose?" I stole a fry from her stack; one that hadn't been infected by the sickly sweet syrup.
"When is the last time I lost a bet against the him? The only thing he is king of is king of the tech dorks." Sam licked the remaining syrup out of the dish.
"Must you constantly put him down?" Sam stopped in mid lick.
Setting the bowl aside she took a deep breath as if she was going to say something life changing. "Yes." Then she just went on her merry way, licking the bowl clean with pleasure. She paused again when she realized I was waiting for more of an explanation. "Come on, it's fun. Just try it."
Comically I asked, "Licking the bowl or teasing Freddie?" For a second I had thought she had taken me seriously when she handed over the bowl. It was empty. I tossed it in the sink.
"You tease him just by being in the same room as him." Spencer walked into the apartment. His arms were full of bags; bags of socks.
He kicked the door closed. "No guys, it's fine. I don't need any help carrying these bags." He started to loose his grip. I took it from him.
"Sam!" I set the bag on the counter. Taking another bag from him I looked for a place to set it.
She stopped squeezing the syrup into her mouth. "What? He said he didn't need help." I dodged the bottle from her, forcing her to focus.
"Not that. The OTHER comment." I hoped she caught the hint and not say something stupid. Unfortunately, hoping doesn't get you anywhere in life. If so a certain somebody would be here. Not that I'm trying to impress him.
She raised her eyebrows and tried to change the subject. "What up with the socks?"
Spencer, not noticing the slight tension started to talk. "Well Socko is dating this girl, and she is allergic to socks so he asked if I could hold them for him." He fished through the bag, looking for a something.
"It's possible to be allergic to socks?" I asked pulling out a pair of sock covered socks. "More importantly who designs sock socks?"
"Socko sells sock socks." Spencer seemed content with his alliteration as he began to repeat it over and over, faster with every repetition. "Come on, say it. Socko sells sock socks!"
I pointed towards the stairs with my eyes to signal Sam. This time she caught the hint. "We gotta go work on our next iCarly. Later." We dashed up the stairs, making a thud as we reached the top.
"Socko sells sock-"
"Sam! Now is not the time to be saying cleverly worded tongue twisters! Now start talking." I flopped backwards onto the beanbag chair and let myself sink into it.
She leaned back into the other beanbag chair. "Well I was until you rudely interrupted me." I sat up in my chair.
"I'm serious Sam." I leaned forward and hugged my knees.
Sam sunk back into her beanbag. "So am I." She lifted her arms and tucked them behind her head as if she was ready to look at clouds and let her mind escape. That was probably one of the last things I wanted her to do, I needed her to listen.
"I just want to know what you meant when you said that 'tease him by being in the same room' comment." I rested my head on my knees.
Sam shifted her body towards me. "I think we both know he has a giant crush on you since the beginning of ever!"
"I know but something is, how do I put this, different?" I buried my face in between my knees, regretting saying what I had.
But Sam surprised me, and did something completely out of character. "You'll sort out your feelings by the time I get back from camp. One week of Miss Briggs and Freddie's mom running it? Just kill me now." She stood up and grabbed the iCarly remote off the table. She handed it to me.
"I'm not going to kill you. Especially with random spurts of audience applause and booing." I gave it back to her and tucked my head back in.
Sam took a minute to look around the studio. "I'm going to miss this place." She set the remote back down.
"One week at Camp Freak is not going to kill you. But you should probably go pack. You leave tonight." I stood and pressed the button for the elevator to escort her out.
As the tension started to subside with conflict resolved, Sam started to snap back to her sarcastic self. "Promise me you and Freddie wont be one of those lovey dovey couples that cant keep off each other ok?" We climbed into the elevator.
"I don't even know if he loves me any more. I mean sure he likes me but-" Sam stopped me.
"Just shut up and exit the elevator. He loves you. Trust me." She grabbed an apple off the kitchen table and headed for the door. Just as she went to turn the knob, the door opened. Mrs. Benson and son were standing there.
Sam nodded to me and left. Mrs. Benson pushed Freddie in the room along with a rather bulky suitcase. "Got enough stuff?" I ask, nudging Spencer.
"This is everything he will need in order to survive the week. Clothes, shampoo, tick bath medicine; you know, the necessities." Mrs. Benson explained.
Freddie crossed his arms. "I don't have ticks." His mom didn't hear him and started to talking to Spencer about all the small little details.
"She is aware you live across the hall right?" I picked up one end of his suitcase and he took the other. We put it upstairs in my room.
He let it drop to the ground. When we returned downstairs, his mom was gone. "Fred-o! Guess what little buddy!" Spencer pulled a pan out from the cupboard. Before Freddie could answer, he answered for him. "I did not listen to a word your mother said. Which means we are having lasagna with forks tonight!"
"Are you sure I wont stab my tongue?" He asked, thinknig of his mother.
"Well if you want to use a spoon-" Spencer held up a spoon as he tried to open a jar of sauce single handedly. Our expressions said it all. "Fork it is."
We watched cartoons until dinner time. But instead of hearing the familiar characters' voices, all I could hear was Sam's, echoing, 'lovey dovey couples. Lovey dovey couples'. So when Spencer called dinner time and I screamed like a maniac, I guess the appropriate reaction was to scream back.
After our screaming fit, we made our way to the table, which was enjoyed much; filled with conversation of poking fun at Freddie's mom. Spencer left to go bowling with his newest girlfriend, leaving us to ourselves. I curled back up onto the couch, turning back on the TV.
Freddie ventured back over, sitting back down next to me. As time progressed, I started to get sleepier. He seemed pretty focused on the TV, so I figured he wouldn't mind if I rested my head on his shoulder. He seemed to notice and flinched for a second, but he relaxed quickly and smiled down at me. Then he reverted his gaze to the TV again.
A couple commercial breaks later, when I was seriously drifting, an arm snaked its way around me to keep my head from hitting the couch. My eyelids fluttered open, and he started to play with my hair, knowing it was making me tingle. Or he just really wanted to. But that only happens in fairy tales.
I felt my eyelids start to droop again and wanted to stop them. Maybe if I kept them open for a sliver more of time, that moment would come. But I gave in and let them win.
I knew I wasn't trying to impress him. I had already gotten that far. But I didn't know how to keep his attention. Would he still want me? I heard his breathing get deeper, almost as if he had fallen asleep.
I lifted my lids slightly, long enough to see he indeed had fallen asleep. I knew I'd have a lot of explaining for Spencer on why I had fallen asleep in Freddie's lap, but sometimes the present is more important than the future. So I looped my legs up and curled up on the couch with him near. Is that such a bad thing?
I felt his pulse speed up. I squeezed my eyes shut. I felt him shifting under me, and then his pulse returned to normal. Once I was sure he was asleep again, I took another peek. He had wrapped himself around me so I wouldn't fall. Maybe he does love me after all. Or he just can't stand to see me hurt. But isn't that what love is really about?
My dreams were racing with thoughts of how I would tell him. None of them had started with a once upon a time, but I was hoping at least one, preferably the real one would end with a happily ever after.
I woke up to the smell of pancakes and Freddie. I don't know when I started to recognize his scent, but it always made me feel better. Who knew the smell of technology could be so sweet?
I opened my eyes to see his closed. Then he opened his, sensing the difference. He smiled and separated himself from me, noticing my brother watching us. Did my brother think something that I knew wasn't true no matter how much I wanted was true?
"Spencer, why are you smiling like that?" I propelled myself off the couch still unknowingly tangled with Freddie, making both of us fall to the ground face to face.
"This is awkward." He whispered, attempting to slip out from underneath me.
I nodded. "Agreed." I started to pull myself off the floor and Freddie, but it seemed as though gravity would not allow. Spencer stuck his head the refrigerator, looking for the syrup. "Where did all the syrup go?"
"Sam?" he guessed. I smiled. "You can borrow some of ours if you like low fat, no sugar syrup." He grabbed my wrist making me fall again, just as I was about upright. "Sorry." His whisper tickled the inside of my ear.
I realized he was trying to sit up, not keep me down. Spencer grabbed the key Mrs. Benson had made for him and headed across the hall. "You know a person could get used to this."
"That's what I was hoping." He was leaning down, getting strangely close to me. Not that I'm saying I didn't enjoy it; I'd be lying if I said I didn't. Judging by the look on his face, I think he felt the same way. Until Spencer came in.
"Pancake time!" He held the bottle triumphantly. Freddie and I quickly sat up, slightly relieved.
We rushed upstairs at the speed of light when we finished. I leapt onto my bed, patting the area next to me, signaling him to sit next to me.
"So what did you want to do downstairs?" I casually scooted closer to him, hoping he had wanted what I wanted.
He didn't disappoint me. And I must say, sugarless syrup has never tasted so sweet.
Review my dorky-ness!