Hi everybody! This is my first iCarly fic so I'm counting on your reviews to help me improve my writing style! Hope you enjoy it!
Summary: Sam and Freddie are engaged and so in love. But when Sam is faced with a hard decision, will she choose to follow her dream or the man of her dreams?
DISCLAIMAH: I do not own iCarly. If I did, it would be SEDDIE FTW!
Tomorrow was the big day. The day that Sam Puckett would finally become Sam Puckett-Benson. Of course, being Sam, she wanted her name to be hyphenated, and I did not deny her this because I for one enjoy having all of my limbs in tact. The day I asked her to be my wife was the most nerve wracking day of my life. After years of pining after her, three years of separation, and six months of blissful (and painful) dating I knew in my heart that she was the only woman I would ever love ever again. So I proposed over a dinner of spaghetti tacos on the fire escape where our first kiss claimed us. Little did we know that the kiss that was plainly meant to "get it out of the way" would set up our hearts for the next few years. Sam loved the proposal. Even though she never admitted it out loud, I could tell by the look of pure shock and wonder on her face that she was pleased with my idea.
I hid the ring in a cupcake.
She said yes, kissed me, then made me rub her feet. But that was Sam, and I loved her because of it.
Sam lay in bed next to me. It was nearly noon and she was still deep in sleep. We had spent hours on end throughout the night making love. It, as always, had us fighting for dominance. However, last night seemed to be more of a give a take. Maybe it was because of wedding what ever it was, we made it beautiful.
I nuzzled Sam's neck in an attempt to wake her up. She was curled against me, her back pressed to my chest so the sweet spot on the nape of her neck was exposed to me. I nibbled gently on the spot. "Sam..." I whispered as lovingly as I could. "Sam, it's time to wake u-" I was cut off by her whacking me soundly in the nose.
"SHUT UP, BENSON!" she shouted, scooting farther away from me and pressing a pillow over her head.
I rubbed my sore nose. Almost my wife, and the woman still feels the need to cause me bodily harm. "Sam!" I groaned.
She waved a dismissive hand in my face. "Ehh, quit your griping... What are you five?"
Rolling out of bed, I shook my head at her before pulling on the pair of boxers that was thrown to the floor last night. "So..." I started standing up to find my shirt. "What's for breakfast, Princess Puckett?"
She sat up, rubbing her eyes with her fist which I found adorable. "We got any bacon?"
I gave her a look. "Sam, you're not eating ham and bacon for breakfast..."
"Why the chiz not, nub?"
I found my shirt laying on the bedpost, but before I could put it on Sam extended her hand towards it. With a sigh I tossed it at her. That woman... "It's unhealthy! Ever heard of clogged arteries? Heart attacks?"
Sam rolled her eyes defiantly. "Just make me some food..."
I groaned, moving sleepily to the door. "You are unbelievable..."
"You know you love me, Freddiffer," she smiled, that rare, genuine Sam smile with the slightest hint of a blush and I melted.
"I do..." I sent her a smirk that I knew would make her dizzy. "That's why I'm marrying you."
"Really? 'Cuz I married you thinking you would never find anyone... It's a pity sort of thing. Just proves Sam Puckett has a heart!"
"Sam Puckett-Benson..." I said opening the door. "You need to get used to saying it!"
"Yeah, yeah..." she answered flopping back onto the pillows lazily.
I smiled fondly at her before walking through the door into the small living room of our apartment that connected to the even smaller kitchen. Our apartment was one of the cheapest, run-down, and tiniest apartments in Seattle. One bedroom, one bath, a small kitchen, and one huge room in the center of it all was the living room. When we first arrived, there had been dust and cobwebs everywhere. Species of insects I never knew existed roamed the walls and lived in the very outdated pink refrigerator that came with the apartment. Sam, who was never the sqeemish type, used to collect cockroaches in a jars and hide them in my underwear drawer. To this day I always inspect my boxers before I put them on.
With my constantly sanitized up bringing thanks to my mother, I found the place absolutely disgusting. But Sam had begged and pleaded with me, saying that it had charm and only needed a few tweaks then it would be perfect. She was right.
We first called the exterminator, of course. Then I tiled the floors and we bought a plush, gray rug to cover the floor in the living room. That was all we had for a while. We slept on a blow up mattress for a while and watched TV curled up on the rug, until I landed a job as the camera man at a local news station. As money piled in, we painted (mostly me while Sam sat on the rug watching me after she forced me to do it shirtless), bought red leather couches and a glass coffee table. Months still passed on that blow up bed until we finally popped it one night in the throes of passion and we were forced to buy a new one.
Soon the house looked more modern and was clean. Perfect for me and my wife to be.
As I walked to the kitchen I thought of all the memories of us in this place. I opened the big pig (the name Sam gave our fridge) and pulled out the pack of bacon and a few eggs. "Sam!" I called back to her. "Are you going to the studio today?"
"Yeah!" she answered strolling out of our room with my shirt on. I started feeling slightly warm when I saw the way it fell just below her waist. "I want to try and get away from you for a while." She smirked, walking up behind me and placing a kiss to my bare back.
"Sure you do..." I turned around. "You know it's because you want to get into the Seattle Dance Company."
She scoffed reaching over me to take an apple from the bowl on the counter. "Is not..."
I turned to her. "Sam, we're getting married tomorrow. You don't need to keep anything from me."
She looked skeptically at me from the corner of her eye. I knew her too well. "So what if I want to get some extra practice in? Is there something so wrong with that?"
"Of course not," I put my arms around her and pulled her snugly to my chest, still not believing that after all these years the feel of her against me still sent sparks throughout my body. "You know I'll support anything you decide, Mrs. Benson..."
"You mean Mrs. Puckett-Benson," she put her apple between my face and hers and took a big, juicy bite, moaning as the juice trailed down her chin. I wanted to lick it right off her face, but I wouldn't give her the satisfaction. "Get used to saying it dork..." she murmured into my ear before grabbing the lobe between her teeth.
I couldn't suppress the growl that rumbled through my chest. Sam played her game well. I scooped her up and ran with her giggling to our bedroom and slammed the door shut. Raw bacon clearly forgotten.