where the dreams roll high
notes: Oh, goodness! After five hours of constant nagging from someone who will not be named, I've finally finished this story. And I have to say, I'm really quite proud of it. In fact, I haven't been this proud of something I've written in quite a while. This is dedicated to Anysa, who simply would not stop nagging me until this was finished (whoops, she's named) and constantly said nice things when I copy/pasted a sentence or two to our convo, which I absolutely love her for. ) Anyroad, I hope that those who read this will enjoy! Thank you! :)
disclaimer: iCarly is not mine.


& the decades disappear like sinking ships . .

She simply doesn't know where the time went. She went from a beautiful, young girl to an old woman with graying hair and wrinkles under her eyes, fumbling hands with dark spots on the palms and slightly yellow fingernails. She takes the salt from the center of the table with those same hands.

"Sam stopped by today," she mentions lowly, and her voice is shaking from old age and possibly something else, but no one can pinpoint it, exactly. "You weren't here, though; I told her you were at work." She laughs, but it is humorless, as though she knows something that nobody else in the world does. "She gave me that worried look again, and asked if I was doing okay. Of course I'm okay, I have you, don't I?" She smiles from her seat to the other end of the table.

Yes, he says. You'll always have me. And she passes him the salt.


"Here you go," a young Carly Shay says, hopping slightly before she sits down next to Freddie on the bench, where he is watching pedestrians pass by before a stick of cotton candy is pressed into his hand. He looks towards her, brown-doe-eyed, and cocks a brow, a half-smirk on his lips.

"You know I can't eat all of this, Carly." He says seriously, but his eyes are laughing, and his lips turn further upwards once he tears off a piece and tastes it. "It's sweet." And he looks positively delighted and his eyes shine and Carly can't help but giggle as she rips off a piece for herself.

A balloon passes on its way skywards, carrying a note attached to the string. Freddie's brow creases, but Carly touches his shoulder with a smile and points to the small girl waving it off. Carly wonders what the note says, but assumes something sappy. Freddie assumes something illegible.

They finish their cotton candy while talking about everything and nothing at all, and a piece sticks to the side of Carly's lips, and Freddie surprises himself by stopping her mid-sentence and wiping it off with the pad of his thumb. She stares at him for almost too short a time for it to be uncomfortable, but he laughs and continues the conversation like nothing ever happened.

Until she kisses him.


"Sam said something about Spencer when she stopped by, told me he was doing well." The woman says, cutting into her chicken breast with trembling fingers, "He's probably just as energetic as ever." She shakes her head good-naturedly. She asks how work was.

Same old. He says with a half-smirk, neglecting to salt his green beans and mashed potatoes. Are you doing alright at home?

"Yes," she answers, "Dawson and Katie have been visiting more often than usual, though you never seem to be home when they arrive." She pauses for a moment, pursing her lips, "They say that they miss you. You really shouldn't work so much."

I know, honey, I know.


They wait three years, three months, and three days to say those three words.

And they don't come out right the first time.

"Freddie," Carly says, and she's standing in his doorway, sucking in a breath when he gives her a half-smirk and hands her a rose. "I love…roses."

Or the second.

"You look beautiful, Carly." Freddie assures, touching her shoulder and pulling her into his arms. He breathes in her scent, "…I lo—" Sam interrupts him by coming through the doorway and yelling for them to get a room.

But the third time's the charm.

"I need to tell you something." They both say in unison, and then they laugh like kids, taking each other's hands. Freddie shakes his head and Carly bites her lip.

"You first," she insists, nodding towards him and brushing her thumb over his.

"No, you can," he says, giving a coy smile and removing his hands from hers to run over her arms.

"How about we just go together?" Carly asks, laughing, because for some reason, she knows what he's going to say. He agrees because he knows, as well, and he counts down like they're back on the set of iCarly.

5, 4, 3, 2.

"I love you."

They both know better than to wait for the one.


She takes the first bite of her meal and closes her eyes as she chews. "Do you like the chicken?" She asks, opening her eyes and looking across the table. "Oh, you haven't touched your food…" Her voice gets softer as she speaks.

I'm not very hungry. He explains, sitting with his shoulders straight and his elbows on the table. He watches her with the same brown eyes he had when they were younger.

"You haven't eaten much at all, lately. Have you been feeling alright?" She asks, and she looks at him with worried eyes as she forks her mashed potatoes and raises them to her mouth. She normally wouldn't eat if he didn't, but today, she feels like it's okay.

I'm fine. I had just had a big lunch. And he promises to eat tomorrow night if she promises to wrap his leftovers.


"Why? What did I do?"

"You know exactly what you did, Fredward Benson. You—you kissed her! How could you?" Carly screams, running down the stairs of their apartment to grab a suitcase. Freddie follows her down, keeping enough distance for her not to hit him, and just enough for her to know that he never wants her to leave.

"It—Carly, who…? Who told you?" He asks, but his voice is so weak that she can tell he knows what she's talking about. Her head pops out from the closet, and it would have been funny to see her hair so messy and her expression so serious, if her eyes hadn't been watery and if her body wasn't shaking and if she wasn't on the verge of leaving and never coming back.

"Sam. Sam told me, because she's a good friend, unlike you." Carly says, tugging the suitcase out of the closet and lugging it towards him.

"No—Carly, where are you going?" Freddie asks, holding his hands up and blocking the way back up the stairs.

"To Sam's house! She's the only one who cares about me, I guess!" Carly screams, and tears finally spill over her eyes, smearing her mascara. Freddie only wishes it wasn't his fault, so he could wipe them away, hold her in his arms, shush her until she fell asleep with her head against his shoulder.

"That's not true, Carly. I can explain!"

"There's nothing to explain!" Carly cries, shoving past him and lugging the suitcase up the stairs. "You—cheated on me! Cheated, Freddie! I thought you loved me!" She turns to look at him halfway up the stairs, and she looks helpless and lost and broken, and Freddie hates to think that it's all his fault, so he pretends it's not.

"I didn't mean to kiss her. I didn't want to—it was an honest mistake!" He finally says, his voice rising even though he doesn't want it to.

"Oh, what? Did she trip and you just caught her with your lips?" Carly retorts, her voice not lowering any in its volume; she turns her back to him and tugs the suitcase even harder up the steps.

"Of course not! We had been drinking, and she was flirting—she kissed me!"

"Then why didn't you tell me?" Carly screams, and her voice is only increasing in octaves, "Why keep it a secret, if it wasn't your fault?"

"Because it's not a big deal!" Freddie retorts, but she only screams in response, tossing her suitcase onto their bed and pulling out the drawers to her dresser. She grabs as many clothes as she can and shoves them inside of the suitcase, and Freddie stands in the doorway, anger increasing.

"You know what? Leave. Do it, Carly! Leave!" Freddie says, and he marches into the room, tugging open a separate drawer and throwing her clothes out of it. She pauses for a moment and stares at him, her mouth slightly open, and her eyes searching him for a lie. He doesn't spare her a glance; he instead stands and goes to the closet, grabbing her dresses and coats and throwing them onto the suitcase.

"Stop it…" Carly says, standing up and balling her fists at her sides, "Stop it! Freddie, don't touch those!"

"Why? You want to leave, right? I'm just making sure you leave faster!" He says, throwing a dress he bought for her at the suitcase like it had done something to him. "That's what you want, right?" He asks, balling up a coat in his hands and slamming it into the suitcase.

"You're the one that betrayed me! You can't stand there and tell me to leave!" Carly screams, shaking all over and moving closer to him—she slams her fists into his chest, "You can't do this to me! You don't…You don't really want me to…" Her voice trails off and she puts her head against his chest, because she's too weak to be angry anymore, "You don't really want me to leave, do you…?" Her voice becomes smaller, frightened, like a child's.

Freddie feels his eyes water, and he throws his arms around her. They sink to the floor in a jumble of shaking limbs.

"No. No, I don't want you to leave…Carly, don't leave me. Please, please don't leave me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for kissing that girl. I'm sorry for not telling you. I'm sorry for telling you to leave, I'm sorry for everything…" Freddie whispers, clutching her tightly and whispering against her neck. His breath is warm, and she finds comfort in it even though she's angry and hurt and she really just doesn't know if she can trust him. She just knows she wants to.

"I don't want to leave, either. I love you," Carly says, and her voice shakes, "I love you so much. I can't leave. I'm sorry…"

"Please don't apologize." Freddie whispers, and he clutches her more tightly in his arms and kisses her neck, up to her lips, which are watery from her tears. He feels her lower lip quiver against his as he kisses her and runs his hands up and down her back.

The suitcase is moved back into the storage room, emptied, an hour later.


"Oh, you dropped the salt," she says after a moment, reaching over to grab it from the table, where it had been laying on its side. She throws some over her shoulder and smiles at the superstition, even though she knows he's going to tease her for it.

You still believe in all that? He asks, and she laughs, setting the salt back onto the table and picking up her fork again.

"Better safe than sorry." She takes a bite of her green beans and chews for a long time out of habit; she never really liked vegetables. "Are you sure you're not going to eat anything? I could heat up some leftovers."

When he shakes his head, she shrugs her shoulders. The phone rings, and she looks up in annoyance, setting down her fork and murmuring, "I'll get it." She trembles slightly as she stands up, but she makes it to the phone before it stops ringing. "Hello?"

"Hey, mom? It's Katie. How are you?" The voice at the end of the receiver sounds crackly, but she is happy to hear the voice of her daughter.

"I'm doing well. I'm having dinner with your father." She says, and she looks towards the table and smiles before returning her gaze to the wall. "And how are you?"

"I'm…fine, mom." The voice answers, and the woman creases her brow.

"You don't sound fine. Did something happen?"

"No, no. There's no worries over here, just…Hey, can I come visit you tonight? I know it's short notice and all, but…I really want to see you."

"Well, I'm sure that will be fine. I was just telling your father how much you miss him. He'll be thrilled." She says, and the smile has returned to her face. There is a pause on the other end of the line. "Hello? Katie, did I lose you?"

"No, I'm here, mom. I'll be over in half an hour."

"Alright, that sounds great." She says, and she hangs up the phone, smiling as she returns to the table. "Katie's coming over. Isn't that wonderful?"

Yeah, that's great. I haven't seen her in a long time.

"Oh, I know. She'll be so happy to see her father."


When Freddie Benson proposes to Carly Shay, it does not go exactly as planned. In fact, he never actually planned it at all.

She is in a blue dress and white flats, and looks absolutely stunning, even with windswept hair and smeared lipstick (thanks to Freddie Benson, himself) and a pink tint to her cheeks, caused by walking up a large hill in the park. In her hand, she clutches a picnic basket, which Freddie had offered possibly a hundred and ten times to carry for her, but she assured him it was fine, and refused to relinquish it.

"Here we go," she says, out of breath as she sets the basket down on the freshly mowed grass and nods towards Freddie to spread the blanket out for them. Freddie chuckles and unravels the blanket that he's been holding in his arms, spreading it over the ground and smoothing out the edges before he picks up the basket and places it in the middle of the blanket so it doesn't fly away.

Carly smiles, looking satisfied, and she smoothes her dress down and sits, gesturing for Freddie to sit, as well. He gives his famous half-smirk and plops down, reaching for the basket.

"So what is this surprise picnic all about, Carly?" He asks, opening the lid and pulling out quite a bit of food that she had allegedly prepared. "I know I'm not an expert on food or anything, but this smells mysteriously like KFC."

"Shh, it's not. It was prepared by your loving and wonderful girlfriend, who just happens to have a gift for making KFC."

"And conveniently had KFC containers laying around the apartment for her to put the food in." Freddie adds, giving her a huge smile as she good-naturedly rolls her eyes and helps him take out the rest of their food, where it is spread over the blanket. "This looks like a delicious home-cooked meal, loving girlfriend." Freddie jokes, and Carly nudges him with her elbow and leans against his shoulder. He puts his arm around her.

They sit in silence for a while, picking out what foods they want from the pile, and are happily settled together, eating in a comfortable silence and listening to the wind blow and the clouds roll by.

"Now tell me, Carly. What's this all about?" Freddie asks after he finishes his food. He sets down his plate, and Carly, although not finished, follows suit, removing himself from his grip and sitting on her knees.

She looks at him for a long moment before she leans forward and presses her lips against his, using one of her hands to pull him closer by his neck. He uses both of his hands to tangle in her hair and they kiss long and hard and with so much passion that it's hard to tell which one loves the other more, if one of them does.

They pull away with shallow breathing, and Carly smiles at him and bites her lip. "Propose to me." Carly says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Freddie stares.


"Propose to me." Carly repeats, although she doesn't look worried. In fact, she looks blissfully happy and peaceful, and Freddie can only think that she's beautiful.

"I don't have a ring…" Freddie says, and Carly presses her lips together to stop a smile from spreading over her entire face. She pulls slightly away and grabs something else from the basket. It's a ring pop—which is just like Carly, somehow.

"Here," she says, unwrapping it and holding it out for him to take from her.

"You want me to propose to you with a ring pop?" Freddie asks as he grabs the "ring" from her hand.

"Why not?" Carly asks, standing up and taking a single step away from him, smiling and pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Freddie can't help but chuckle, and think about how cute she is and think about how much he actually wants to do it, now.

"Alright." Freddie finally says, situating himself so he is on one knee and looking up at Carly, holding the candy delicately in his hand. His famous smile is on his face as he says, "Carly Shay, will you marry me?"

And there's no chance that she wouldn't say yes, but she actually says "Duh!"


"Dawson got a promotion the other day; did he tell you?" She asks after finishing her sixth bite of chicken. She glances up from her plate to the other end of the table.

No, I'm sure he thought you would tell me. He answers with a light tone. He lowers his gaze to the untouched food in front of him.

"Oh. Well, apparently his boss is finally starting to see something in him. I'm so happy for him." She says, nodding and picking through her green beans. She sets down her fork and takes a drink of her water. "Are you sure you don't want anything to drink, either?" She asks, lowering her drink carefully with her weakening hand.

I'm sure. I'm fine, just not hungry.

"Okay." She answers, pursing her lips. She starts to turn back to her food, but then puts her fork down again. "I'll just go ahead and wrap those up for you, then." She says, standing up from her seat and walking over to the other end of the table. She takes the plate from its placemat and heads over to the counter. She puts it in saran wrap, and places it inside of the fridge.

It sits with the other six leftover dinners from that week.


"I do."

"I do."

And it doesn't matter who said it first.

Especially when they fall onto the feather mattress, intertwined together and kissing the other like their lives depend on it. And maybe they do, because Carly feels so alone without him and Freddie has never felt more complete when he's with her. He reaches up, and cups her face in his palms, leaning his forehead against hers. He breathes the words, I love you, into her ear and she says the same words back, and it is amazing.

He pulls her closer, and her small frame fits perfectly against his, even though neither are romantics and neither thought it was possible for this to feel so right.

Carly throws a leg over his waist and he brushes his hips against hers, managing to flip them so he's on top of her. He uses one hand to prop himself up and the other to caress her cheek, because he wants this to be perfect.

When she leans into his touch and closes her eyes and kisses him again, he knows it already is.


She sits back down and checks the time. "Katie should be here any minute," she murmurs, placing the napkin in her lap and promising herself to finish dinner before Katie arrived. "Are you going to change?" She asks, though she continues feeding herself.

No. He says, I'm comfortable.

"Oh, alright." She says, rolling her eyes and offering him a smile, "It's just our daughter; it should be okay." She says, but she's mostly speaking to herself. She manages to finish her dinner with a couple of minutes to spare.

"Would you like to help me do the dishes?" She asks, and he gives her a look; she shakes her head, "One of these days you're going to have to start helping around the house again. You've been sort of lazy, lately."

She places the dishes in the dishwasher and wipes off her hands, staring at her reflection in the window. It is dark outside; she prays for the safety of her daughter, to be safe driving in such darkness, although she can still make out the outlines of trees in their backyard. Her eyesight just isn't what it used to be.


On September 27th, 2018, Katie Benson is born.

She is beautiful. She's got thick hair like her mother, and doe-eyes like her father—plus a coy smile, which they notice when she gets older.

April 14th, three years later, Dawson Benson arrives on the earth, as well. He's got his father's smarts and his smirk and his mother's eyes and sense of humor. They can tell from the moment he comes out, because it almost sounded like he was laughing instead of crying.

Freddie kisses Katie on top of the head and holds her hand as he walks her to the bus on her first day of school. Dawson is being held in the arms of his mother, who gives Katie an encouraging smile and nods.

"Have a good day at school," Freddie says, holding his daughter's shoulders and grinning, "You're going to be great."

Katie swallows and nods before she steps onto the bus. They are letting her go for the first time, and Carly knows it's sappy, but she feels an overwhelming sense of sadness. It's the first step to her children growing up. Freddie steps to her and kisses her on the lips, smiling against her mouth.

"She'll always be our little girl, you know." Freddie reminds her, and although it sends a wave of relief over Carly, she rolls her eyes and holds Dawson, who is falling asleep, closer to her.

"Don't be so sappy." She reprimands playfully, but Freddie will have none of it.

"I know that you were thinking the same thing."

And maybe she still is.


The doorbell rings and she jolts a little, putting her hand over her chest. "That scared me," she says with a laugh, listening for his, as well, before heading to the door. She opens it with a smile and greets her daughter. "Freddie, Katie's here!" She calls, but when she turns, he's no longer sitting at the table.

Katie steps into the apartment, her face stoic and creased with worry that's covered by too much makeup. "He's not here," she says, but it sounds less like confusion and more like an obvious statement.

"He must have gone to bed. I'll make sure to get him when he wakes up in the morning, missing another visit from his daughter," the old woman says, and she reaches for Katie and pulls her into a hug. It is desperately returned.

"Are you okay, mom?" She whispers, clutching her mother more tightly.

"Of course I'm okay!" The woman says, pulling away from her daughter and giving the brightest smile she can, "I have you here, don't I? And I had a wonderful dinner with Freddie, even though he's not eating again…"

"Mom." Katie says, and her voice holds a hidden sadness in it. The woman looks at her strangely, blinking a couple of times. "…Sorry, I'm not trying to be so gloomy. Here, sit down, I'll make us some tea," Katie says, giving a thin smile and moving past her mother to grab the tea kettle out of the cabinet. "Did you have chicken for dinner tonight?" Katie asks, filling the kettle with water.

"Yes," the woman answers from the chair that she sat down on, "And Freddie really missed out. It was delicious." She says, laughing and shaking her head, "Well, he promised to eat tomorrow, so I saved his leftovers for him."

"Like you've been doing all week." Katie says, putting the tea kettle down with some force on the electric stove.

"Please take care of the appliances, Katie." The woman scolds, turning her attention to the blank television. "I don't know why Freddie went to bed; he knew you were coming. Would you like me to get him?"

"No, mom. It's fine." Katie says, standing in the kitchen and watching the tea kettle for a long moment before she actually moves to get the tea pouches. She places them on the counter and leans against it, turning to face her mother. "…Mom. Haven't we told you? Dad doesn't go to work."

"Yes, he does. He told me all about his day at dinner tonight." The woman says, sounding somewhat defensive. "If he wasn't at work, how would we pay for the house?"

"Mom, you're living off of retirement money—and the money he left in his will. Mom, dad is…" Katie pauses.

She is interrupted by the ringing of the kettle, a siren for too much heat.



Freddie swallows and grips Carly's hand tightly in his own. They are older now, their hair graying and their wrinkles prominent. It is almost expected that something like this is to happen; but for some reason, it seems wrong when it happens to them. Carly turns her eyes towards Freddie, then back to the doctor, wide with uncertainty, with grief.

"No, you…there must be some mistake. Freddie is healthy."

"I'm afraid to say, Mrs. Benson, that he's not. He's got a cancerous tumor imbedded in his brain. If it was operable we would most surely find a way, but…I'm sorry, there's really no hope at this point. It's spread too far, much too quickly."

"No, this…this isn't right," Carly pleads, but both Freddie and the doctor shake their heads.

"Carly, it's fine," Freddie whispers, and offers her a smile that's real, even though he knows that his death is inevitable. "I…I love you. I've lived my whole life with you, knowing that, and knowing that you love me in return. That's all I could ever ask for."

Carly wants to say that he's too young, that he's too wonderful, that he's too perfect to die, but she knows that death comes for all. He is not young anymore, and the wrinkles around his eyes when he smiles proves it. He is wonderful, but is most certainly not the best person in the world; he has had his fair share of evil in his life. And no human is perfect.

But Freddie just…doesn't deserve to die. Not like this, anyways. Carly wonders what he had done in his life to be hated by God.

But he shakes his head like he's read her mind, and she knows that God still loves him; loves them. It is simply time for Freddie to go.

It is the end, for him.


Katie takes a deep breath and turns the stove off. She reaches up and grabs two cups from the cabinet, placing them on the counter before she pours the scalding water into each of the containers and places the tea into them both. She replaces the kettle on the stove. "Mom. Dad has been…gone for three months." Katie says, turning towards the woman on the chair.

"Oh, honey, I know it feels like that when you don't see him, but I'm sure he wants to see you, too. I really can wake him up, Katie."

"No, mom! Dad is dead. He's dead." Katie finally says, stepping forward and throwing her hands up. "There, I said it. He's not here. You need to stop…pretending, mom! We're worried about you! He's been gone for three months, and you still can't get over it!" Katie says, her eyes watering.

The woman on the chair looks at her with giant, confused eyes, and she shakes her head, her lower lip quivering. "No…" She says, and it's almost as though she means it, but there is something inside of her that makes seriousness impossible.

"Yes, mom. He's dead. And I miss him, too, but you can't keep living like this. I can't…keep watching this." Katie says, walking to her mother. She attempts to put her arm around her, but the woman stands up, shoving the hand out of the way.

"He is not dead. He's only gone to bed, Katie; he just had dinner with me."

"No, mom! He didn't. Don't you notice when he's not there in the morning? Don't you wonder about where he is all day until dinnertime? Dad was always with us before and after dinner. Don't you wonder why he never eats? He's not here, mom! He doesn't exist anymore. Please—stop pretending like he is!"

"He is not dead! I'll prove it to you. He's in bed, asleep!" The woman cries, pushing Katie lightly out of the way as she heads up the stairs.

"He's not, mom! Please, just believe me!"

"He is there, sleeping. Come look, Katie! Come look!" She says, leading the way up the stairs at a much faster pace than she had any time in a long while. Katie follows her up the stairs, pleading. The bedroom door is shut, and Carly grabs the knob and forces it open.

The bed is empty.

"He's…He's here! Freddie? Freddie, are you in the bathroom? Freddie!"

"Mom, please! Mom, he's not here! Please, mom, stop!" Katie begs, and she grabs her mother's shoulders only to be shaken off as the woman opens the door to the bathroom.

The only thing she sees is Carly Shay Benson in the mirror.


Carly doesn't remember his funeral; she is too busy watching the clouds roll by, as if she is young again. She spots shapes like giraffes and ice cream cones and smiley faces, and everything is just too happy for such a terrible day. But she doesn't remember it.

She remembers the coffin lowered into the ground, she remembers the apologies, rushed and slow and forward and beaten around the bush. She remembers her children crying, but she doesn't remember seeing Freddie, and she doesn't remember why.

She asks him when they have dinner that night.


"She's with the doctor right now; he said they were going to keep her for a while," Katie says as she and Dawson step into their parents' home and shut the door behind them, "I just don't understand how it happened. She seemed to accept it before he actually, you know, died."

"Yeah, well, you know our mom. She's always been a wishful thinker," Dawson answers, offering a half smile to his sister; a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. She notices, and she frowns, lowering her gaze as they step past the living room and into the kitchen.

"She's never going to forgive me." Katie says, shaking her head. Dawson lets out a breath and touches his sister's shoulder, squeezing it protectively.

"You did what we were all too scared to do, you know." He says, glancing at her. She gives a thin smile, her eyes watering. "Don't worry about it, sis. I think she'll understand. And I know that dad understands," he says, turning his eyes upwards for a brief second as he references their father.

"Thank you, Dawson." Katie says, and Dawson lowers his hand from her shoulder. She takes a deep breath. "I don't know what I would do without you." She murmurs, catching sight of the glasses of tea still sitting on the counter from two nights before. "I guess we should start here."

"It's as good as anything else," Dawson agrees, turning to pick up the placemats from the table as Katie empties the now-cold water from the kettle into the sink. They work in silence, before Katie finally glances towards the fridge and bites her lip.

Dawson catches her.

"What is it?" He asks, turning to look at the fridge.

"She saved all of his leftovers in there…from when he didn't eat." Katie says, sucking in a breath as she steps forward and opens the fridge. "Oh my…" She breathes.

"What?" Dawson asks, leaning over her shoulder and glancing inside of the refrigerator, as well. "God." He says, reaching past his sister and pulling out a couple of plates. She pulls out a couple as well. "This is the same meal," he says, looking at the plates in his hands and then glancing towards the ones in his sister's.

"KFC." Katie says.

Made especially by Freddie Benson's loving girlfriend.