Summary: Carly, Freddie, and Sam, now in college live together in a small apartment. Oh no…Freddie and Sam live together? What chaos will ensue? Guess we'll just have to see. Based off of the music video for the song, "My Life Would Suck Without You" by Kelly Clarkson.
Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly. If I did, that would mean I was Dan Schneider. Sadly, I am not rich and awesome.
A banging sounds on the door. Sam sits smugly, her feet propped up on the coffee table in the living room. She wears a grin on her face and holds a carton of ice cream in the crook of her arm. As she sticks a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, she closes her eyes serenely, listening to the sound of the pounding on the door, as if it were soothing, therapeutic music.
"Open this door, Sam!" yells Freddie, just on the other side.
"Nah," Sam calls nonchalantly from the couch, her head slumping over to the side slightly. "I don't think so."
"Open this door now," he threatens.
"Why?" she asks, actually looking over to the doorway this time. "This apartment's so much better minus you."
The banging stops. Sam raises an eyebrow quizzically in the direction of the door but soon shrugs it off, turning back to the television. Remote in hand, she raises the volume and goes back to relaxing in silence.
Suddenly, the door flies open to reveal a not-at-all amused Freddie. His brows are lowered, nostrils flaring, and his mouth is set into a hard line. Freddie's chest heaves with deep, angry breaths.
"Hey!" Sam calls, smiling proudly as she looks to the boy. "You picked the lock! I've taught you well, grasshopper."
Freddie's glare tightens as he drops his lock-picking tool carelessly on the floor, eyes glued to Sam.
She stares back, completely unfazed.
As Freddie bends down to pick up his shoes, he tosses his book bag to the side. It knocks into the TV cart causing it to sway a little.
"Now, Fredward," Sam mocks in a fake stern voice. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to throw things?"
Freddie straightens, glaring still, teeth on edge as he slams the door shut and walks into the apartment.
"Sheesh, didn't she ever tell ya not to slam doors either?" Sam asks, a bit of seriousness seeping into her tone, this time as she lowered her feet from the table and sat up straight.
All she was met with was a low, echoed grunt from further down the hallway.
"Awww, is someone upset?" The blonde pouted in false sincerity.
Freddie calls, "You somehow glued banana peels onto my shoes, Sam! I couldn't stop slipping. And I ended up just having to take my shoes off. Now my feet are bleeding thanks to you."
Sighing deeply in content, Sam once again placed her feet on the table and leaned back. "No need to thank me, Freddo. It's just what I do."
"Yeah," she could've sworn she heard. "Wait 'til you see what I just do." But the boy said it too low to be sure.
At that moment, Freddie re-entered the living room with a pile of brightly colored and random clothing in his arms.
Sam raised an eyebrow. "What in ham's sake is that?"
"Oh, just some messy clothing," answers Freddie, nonchalantly, continuing his way to the table they used as a breakfast nook.
"You're doing laundry?" she asked. "Thanks. This place was sorta starting to smell."
"Yeah, I guess you could say that," Freddie replied as he emptied his arms onto the table. He knew that said smell had to have been solely coming from Sam's room. He alwaysmade sure to wash his clothes thoroughly. And Carly's room always smelled good—regardless of whether it was because of her cleanliness or the array of perfumes she had housed in there. Swiftly, he walked to the window that rested to the right of the table and opened it with ease.
Sam had to admit, she was impressed with how strong Freddie had gotten—that window was a problem for mostly anyone that wanted to open it. "Hmm, guess it is kinda stuffy in here." But right then and there, she was more concentrated on the heap of clothes that lay on the table. "Hey," she began, raising an eyebrow.
As Sam paused, Freddie gingerly lifted the heap into his arms once more.
"There's only my clothes in the—" Before she could finish speaking, the tech producer of the trio's famous web show smoothly dropped the pile out the open window.
Sam's mouth hung agape. Finally, brought out of her stupor, she shouted. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing, Benson?"
"I'm getting you back," Freddie yelled in return, slowly, carefully annunciating every word he spoke as he leaned towards her. "That's what."
"Oh yeah?" questioned Sam, her eyes wide, and eyebrows raised in a challenging fashion.
Freddie was not faltering this time. Glaring right back, he answered, "Yeah," sharply.
Lifting her arms and tilting her head in a have-it-your-way manner, Sam dropped the remote on the couch. "O-kay, then," she said, warning tingeing her tone. Jumping to her feet, she hurriedly walked down the hall.
Freddie peered down the walkway. "What are you doing?" he asked, in curiosity.
"Getting even," answered Sam bluntly. As she walked to the window, she dropped three items on the table. "I guess you won't miss your picture of your mother—" out it went. "—Your limited edition Nug-Nug action figure—" the toy joined the photo. "—Aaaand your PearPhone!" She paused before dropping this one, holding it up as if she were modeling for a promotional commercial.
The boy stared at her with his eyes wide as saucers.
Sam glanced once at his expression before turning back to the phone, smiling smugly—almost fondly. Bringing it to her face, she licked the screen thoroughly three times.
Freddie's shocked gaze transformed into a glare. "Nice try, Puckett, but that phone's indestructible!" he said, pointing matter-of-factly.
The girl shrugged, calmly. "Doesn't mean I can't still throw it out the window." And then she dropped it, along with Freddie's other now-lost items.
Freddie leaned behind the couch, waving Sam's sneakers. "Well," he said as he made his way back towards the window. "Then I guess you don't really need your good ol' Chuck Taylors, do you?"
Sam suddenly glared, dangerously. "You wouldn't dare." Her voice was slow, as if it were being dragged through slime. But it was still sharp as a million daggers.
"Oh," Freddie raised his eyebrows as he stuck his sneaker-filled hand outside the window. "I think I would." And then they fell to the far-off concrete.
"That is it, Benson!" Sam roared as she lunged at Freddie, snarling. Crashing into him, he fell over and to the ground, gasping lightly as his back hit the floor.
He chuckled underneath her weight. "What's the matter? Struck a nerve with the sneakers?" He really was laughing in the face of danger.
The blonde growled furiously. "I'm going to give you so much head trauma, your non-existent brain will be even more non-existent than before!"
Freddie laughed out loud. "No, no, no," he said, seemingly immune to Sam's completely serious threat. "What I find funny is that you care way more about your stupid sneakers than you ever did about the rest of your clothes I threw away."
Her gaze tight with anger, Sam grabbed Freddie partway up by the collar and stared into his calm and playful eyes. "You know what?" she asked as she dropped him, letting his head slam back on the floor. "I don't need to hurt you, I'll just fight fire with fire." Quickly, she got up and stalked back down the hallway. She arrived back at the window with a pile of clothes that rivaled the one Freddie carried of hers earlier. "Say goodbye to your striped cardigan, skinny jeans, and pink penny tee. Among other things." Her arms let the clothes dangle from the windowsill before she let them fall.
"No!" Freddie shouted as he jumped up. "Not my--…wait." Freddie paused, tilting his head, his eyebrows knitting together. "I don't own any of that stuff."
Sam suddenly froze in place.
Freddie slowly came to the realization of what Sam had done. He was grinning, and began laughing consecutively louder. "Oh man! You are so dead!"
As if on cue, Carly came through the door at that moment. "Hey, you two," she said, beaming with cheer. "Did you know the door was unlocked?"
Tossing her unused keys to the table, she turned to walk down the hallway.
Freddie held up his hand, counting off silently verbally as well as on his fingers. "Five, four, three, two…"
A scream came from Carly's room.
Before Freddie could laugh, Sam called, "Freddie was rummaging through your closet, Carls!"
His whole face practically gaped with shock. "No I wasn't! Sam threw your clothes out the window!"
"Oh, yeah," Sam scoffed as she plopped back on the couch. "That's a nice lie, Fredwad."
"It's not a lie! You know you—"
"Shut up!!!" Carly yelled as she stomped into the room. "I don't care who did what," her eyes darted around the room, in a look that would send shivers down anyone's spine. "You both owe me an entirely new wardrobe!"
Sam and Freddie both averted their gazes. Their game had lost all its fun at that moment and they gulped simultaneously in guilt and nervousness.
"And for the record," Carly said in a now strained voice, breaking the silence. "I believe her." And then she slammed her door shut.
Slowly, Sam turned her head towards Freddie and grinned. She could've shoved her victory in his face a little more, but at that point for some reason, grinning felt like enough. Patting the couch, she spoke in a friendly tone. "Take your spot on the couch of shame, good sir?"
Freddie paused, but soon, trudged over, grumbling, to the sofa and plopped down.
Sam gave him two reassuring slaps on his knee and leaned her head on his shoulder. "Now make yourself useful and be a good pillow, boyfriend of mine."
Sighing, Freddie lifted his arm and wrapped it around the blonde's shoulder. Allowing her hair to tickle his face as her head leaned against his chest.
Life really hadn't changed much when they became a couple earlier last year. It was graduation when they'd finally started going out, just after graduation, but they still teased each other, and still tormented one another. But in the end, they all had fun (yes, even Carly.) And they couldn't ask for anything better.
Sam quickly sat up and gave Freddie a peck on the jaw, making sure he was smiling before she went back to lying on Freddie's chest.
Later that night, after Spencer had come rushing upstairs with a shopping cart full of the items that had been dropped from the window claiming that they just were "so them," he and Carly joined the smiling couple on the couch. And they all sat down for a peaceful evening of togetherness and the genuine, warm comfort one can only feel when in the presence of life-long friends.
AN: Squee! ^^ That was so much fun to write. I hope you all liked it, and enjoyed every last bit of it, even though it was only a one-shot. I'd love to see your feedback on this! Thanks for reading!