A/N: I actually forgot I wrote this, until I looked in my GoogleDocs and realized that this existed and was actually finished. And it's good. And I like it. So I'm posting it. Also - I'm like 99% sure that this was influenced by "iToe Fatcakes". But I'm not sure. Disclaimer: Dan Schneider owns, I don't, blah blah. Please enjoy!
"So what are we going to do?"
His question echoes around the living room, and she can't tell what he means. Except the way he's looking at her now, refusing to break eye contact, combined with the way he sat down on the couch next to her, she's afraid she does know what he's talking about.
She's always afraid he'll bring it up when she comes over to their apartment when Carly isn't there. A part of her always enjoys being alone in the apartment with Spencer, usually just watching TV or lying on the couch while he sculpts, or cooks, or watches TV with her. They don't say anything, and usually it isn't awkward. Except today it is, and she hates it.
She walked in, saying hello and making her way to the couch like she normally would, but as she got comfortable, remote control in hand, she could feel his eyes on her. During the first two episodes of Girly Cow that were on, she could hardly focus on the screen she was so worried. Convinced that any second he'd start yelling, accusing her of ... well, lots of things. And all of them result in her leaving the apartment in tears.
So she tenses when he sits down next to her, refusing to look at him, pretending to be engrossed in the show. He's still looking at her, but she still doesn't look, even when he takes the remote out of her hand, turning off the TV.
He asks, "So what are we going to do?" He doesn't sound angry; his voice is tired and sad, deep enough that it sends shivers down her spine.
He actually wants her opinion. He doesn't know what to do. So she turns and looks up at him, regretting it almost immediately. His eyes are sad and lost, staring at her, and it makes her heart ache.
He slumps a little, putting his arm across the back of the couch without breaking eye contact with her. "This." There's a lump in her throat, and she can't ask him to clarify. "Us."
She can't breathe, and shakes her head slightly, willing him to go on, not daring to speak or hope.
"Your crush on me." She expects him to smile and maybe laugh a little referring to it, but his expression remains stony.
She looks down, suddenly feeling like a little girl talking to her babysitter. But then she feels his hand at her temple, pushing her hair back behind her ear. She glances up as he says, so quiet she can hardly hear him, "My feelings... for you."
There are so many emotions welling up inside her, she's not sure what makes tears spring to her eyes. It might be her elation at hearing that he returns her feelings in any capacity, or the realization of why there are tears filling his eyes. Because even if they both have feelings, even if they know that they're both head over heels in love - it doesn't mean anything. He's still twenty-nine and she's still eighteen. She's still Carly's best friend, and he's still her brother.
She moves slowly, scooting the tiniest bit over, her forehead against his, one of her hands on the back of his neck, the other on his cheek, breathing steadily. "It's more than just a crush."
She can't quite see it, but she hears and feels it: he smiles at that. "Good. Because I can't get you out of my head."
They sit like that for a minute or two, breathing in deeply, eyes shut. But Sam can feel love and desire bubbling up and overtaking all of the fear that's kept her silent and unmoving. And when it finally overwhelms her, she kisses him, softly and slowly, and he responds. It isn't intense. It isn't passionate. But every inch of her body responds in warm, happy signals, and everything else in the world melts away, and she doesn't need anything else in her life if she can experience this.
Luckily, it feels like an eternity later when he pulls away, his eyes searching her face. She thinks he understands that they're in the same place, too, when he moves off the couch, going back to his sculpture when there are sounds outside the door.
All of the questions she normally asks herself when she sits in the Shay loft are gone, they're answered. Instead she's stuck with just one. One that hurts to think about, to know and not know the answer to.
'So what are we going to do?'
She doesn't stop coming over. Even if he had driven her out, crying, she wouldn't have been able to stay away. But now, everything's different. Except nothing is.
She still walks in quietly, saying 'hi.' She waits to get Spencer's reaction before sitting down. Sometimes, he turns and they kiss hello. Other times his voice is low and sad, but his arms are open, and she stands with her arms around him, swaying in the silence.
They talk about their day sometimes, occasionally even about Carly and Freddie and Gibby. When he's watching TV when she comes in, sometimes she sits in his lap and they watch together, making little comments and stealing little kisses. Once he was asleep on the couch and she curled up next to him, fading in and out of sleep in time to his breathing.
There isn't a lot in any of those moments that feel different from what she's grown into expecting from the years she's known him. Not that she doesn't enjoy it twelve times as much as she normally would, with Spencer responding happily, initiating kisses and reciprocating hers.
But there are days and times when they have to turn the TV off, because even static noise from the screen would be too distracting from the touch of their lips, the caresses of their hands, from being able to, if only for a second, exist in a space where they're together, really, truly together, and there aren't any objections.
Over time, (she doesn't want to think how much time, because that hurts, too) there are more and more days where as soon as she clears the doorway they're kissing, forgetting everything about place or time, their attention on each other, fueled entirely by desire, passion, and love.
Somehow, Sam still isn't sure how, they manage to rein in their raging hormones and sex drives well enough so that their first time together isn't rushed or awkward. It managed to be wonderful, orgasm worthy, and they even managed to settle down and talk in whispers, wrapped in each others' arms underneath Spencer's blankets and comforter.
After that - things veer out of standard procedure, dangerously mixing the space where they didn't need to ask any more questions with the place where they both felt the questions pressing on them every second.
Sam would accidentally lag behind the group when they went upstairs to rehearse or film iCarly, and Spencer would give her a kiss, whispering in her ear. Sam would make sure to spend the night in their apartment and intentionally wander down to Spencer's room to stay there for the night. They start calling and texting each other without qualms, asking about schedules and projects and times they might go rent a movie, get a smoothie together, or sneak onto the ice rink.
They still haven't decided what they're doing. A lot of times Sam thinks that it's really that they're ignoring that it's happening at all, trying to pretend they can handle their emotions, ignore them, when they really can't. They're playing it off as hormones and sex drive, but they're still keeping it a secret, even if it's a poorly kept one.
The only times Sam thinks about it in the way of a real relationship that's acknowledged but not talked about, is when Spencer has his arms around times where he's so stressed about being a real adult with a creative day-job, when they don't say anything, breathing in each other's hair. When they lie in bed but don't have sex, just staring at each other until one of them twists their limbs together to go to sleep.
When Sam stops to think about it, even though she tries not to, she's sure that every piece of cliche good-relationship advice she's ever heard revolves around communication, and she's worried. They nevertalk about anything important. Not about their relationship, not about their feelings, not about how fucked up the situation is, and not about how much they want to tell Carly, and how that's what they're most afraid of doing. She doesn't understand how their not talking, sometimes cuddling, has managed to get them this far. Because it's been a really long time, and she knows they're in a serious relationship. She's seen Spencer turn down cute grocery store girls with no regrets, and watched him watch her closely when guys in the city or who come over for iCarly, or for Carly's school group projects hit on her and she turns them down.
Which is something they don't have to talk about. They get it. They don't like seeing each other hit on, or trying to be set up, but they don't get jealous. They can't. And they've said it once or twice, quietly, when the other was asleep, knowing they weren't, the all-important 'I love you.' So maybe they are communicating, even when they don't say anything.
Which is great, but also terrifying, because when Sam realizes that she should be on her period and isn't, Spencer knows too. So she doesn't have to try and find a way to tell him, but she wishes there was some kind of buffer. She's still trying to ignore it and hope that something else is going on with her body, but he's Zaplook searching and wandering into aisles and stores he normally wouldn't, and they're both tense, because they still haven't figured out how they feel or what they're going to do.
So when Carly asks her if she wants to hang around until her study group is over after school, she accepts. Although she hasn't really thought of anything else all day, it's nice to sit in the quiet school hallway and not have to pretend she's paying attention to a lecture or trying to come up with an essay topic. She keeps trying to think of herself, to tell her mind that she is a very important part of this whole thing - but she keeps thinking about Spencer, and what he's thinking when he decides to Zaplook search and how he feels when he's doing it. She also keeps thinking about Carly, and how much she wants her opinion.
She keeps thinking about everything Carly has confided in her about in the last eleven months, and their best friend ability to work through the uncertainty of school, and college applications, and Freddie. Sam laughs out loud when she thinks about that, stretching out on her back, lying down in the middle of the hallway, her hands resting on her stomach. Freddie and how Carly thinks she has feelings for him - serious, real life, romantic feelings - had been the center of a ridiculous amount of their conversations lately.
With the amusing idea of Carly and Freddie in a legitimate relationship, Sam is able to sit and imagine her hands on her very different stomach in the near future. She can imagine her future with Spencer, with Spencer and no one else. She can think of Spencer going around the apartment cleaning, or budgeting his life away, or building a pastel colored sculpture.
Her thoughts start to stray towards pain, and uncertainty, and both her and Spencer's record of not being responsible or having money to spare when Carly's study group walks out of the classroom and almost steps on her. Carly's the last out of the classroom, and looks like she's going to lay down next to her when Sam starts standing up. "C'mon, let's go."
Sam starts walking to catch up with the rest of her group, but Carly grabs her arm and pulls her back. "I've decided, Sam."
"Oh, no, is this about Freddie?"
"You told me I had to make up my mind."
Sam rolls her eyes, makes a dissatisfied noise in her throat and a face, but walks with her out of the building, listening patiently and answering honestly.
By the time they reach the eighth floor of Bushwell Plaza, Carly's diverged from her plan and keeps talking about Freddie's arm muscles and the times she's kissed him before, and warm fuzzy feelings compared to the heat she feels between her legs when she thinks about them. They walk into her apartment and see Spencer in the kitchen, pouring himself a drink, but Sam doesn't think Carly's going to stop their conversation or alter it at all.
"I just know I need to do this, y'know?
"Carly -" Sam tries to interrupt.
"I need to make my move so that Freddie and I can be together, like, reallytogether -"
"Carly!" She tries again.
"I need to feel that!"
"No you don't!" Sam bursts out, finally regaining Carly's attention. "I know you want to be with him, and it'll be great because you want it to be great, but you don't need to have sex with him. You shouldn'thave sex with him. Don't even think about it!"
"But -" Carly tries to interrupt, a confused, innocent expression on her face.
"No. Both of you are going off to college, and you have futures. Probably with each other. You'll be married and have annoyingly cute kids. But not right now! You have too much to lose!"
"Okay, yeah. But -"
"No buts! It only takes one time, and for all you know Freddie has super sperm and you're the perfect baby-maker, and we don't need another baby around here!" Sam doesn't know how her voice got that loud that fast, or why she couldn't censor herself in front of Carly, or in front of Spencer. But now she can see that Carly's standing in front of her, mouth open, her face confused and worried, and she hears Spencer come up from behind her, saying her name in a way that she knows she's getting a hug.
So she turns around and hugs Spencer tightly, letting the tears she didn't know she was holding in burst out as he shushes in her ear, kisses her on top of her head and rubs her on the back. "Shh, it's okay. It's going to be okay."
Carly asks, her voice offended and a little bit hurt, "What's going on here?"
Before Sam can turn back around, Spencer answers for her, his voice soft and low. "Sam's pregnant," and once she has her back against him, his hand in her hair still, he adds, "and we're not really taking it that well."
Carly only looks more confused by this, so Sam has to add, wiping her eyes, "Me and Spencer - we're together, and I thinkI'm pregnant, and I wanted to tell you, but … how could I do that?" She hastily wipes away more tears that keep falling, muttering, "Damn - hormones."
"Wewanted to tell you," Spencer adds, his grip on Sam a little tighter than before.
They stand there, waiting for Carly to say something, Spencer holding Sam, Sam wiping away the steady stream of tears that keep coming down her face. Carly isn't looking at them, her face screwed up in thought.
She doesn't look directly at them, but the floor by their feet and the wall somewhere behind their ears when she answers, "I think I'm happy for you. And scared for you. And not as mad as I should be. But I can't really talk to you right now. So." She looks directly at Sam when she says, "I'm going to go talk to Freddie. And maybe when I come back I can talk to you. Maybe."
And she turns around and walks straight back out the door and right into the Benson's apartment across the hall before the door shuts behind her. Spencer presses Sam closer to himself, and she worms her way around so her face is in his shirt again.
It sounds like Spencer's started crying when she hears him ask, "So, what are we going to do?"
"I don't know. Whatever responsible people do when they're done freaking out." She pauses, taking a deep breath. "Are we done freaking out?"
"I don't know."
They stand in silence for a little bit, Sam's face buried in his shirt and Spencer's face buried in her hair. She's starting to think that maybe they should take a nap and cuddle, and things might straighten out from there. Then Spencer speaks up, his voice small but confident. "Sam, I love you."
"I love you, too, Spencer."