iCarly - Things Can Change
Disclaimer: Oh, please.
Pairings: Sam/Freddie and Sam/Spencer fluff – non-romantic relationship
A/N: Okay, so I'll admit right now to being too old watch this show, but I cried for four days after I watched the finale. I decided the only way to quit moping was to start writing. Now, this isn't my first story, but it is the first time writing in this fandom. Let me know what you think.
Saturday at 2 pm:
"You sure you want to do this?" Freddie teased.
"What are you? Chicken?" Sam taunted.
He laughed, "Whatever you say."
"Yeah, yeah, count it down before I cheat already."
"Make me a sandwich", Sam grumbled as she fell exhaustedly onto the Shay's couch.
Freddie laughed outright. "A bet's a bet. Don't you have something to do?"
She glared at him over the back of the couch. "How did you get so evil?"
He shrugged in amusement. "I learned from the best: manipulation mastermind, Sam Puckett."
She nodded thoughtfully. "That's probably true. Gah, fine!" she grumbled, heaving herself off the couch. Sam grabbed the bag she had dropped near the elevator and headed for the stairs. "I want food ready when I'm done!" she called over her shoulder as she disappeared.
Freddie smirked, quite pleased with himself. "This is gonna be good."
It was nearing six that evening, and they were waiting for pizza to be delivered. Sam was sprawled on the couch watching mindless television, and Freddie was playing chess against the computer when a video chat invitation popped onto the screen.
"Hey! Carly's calling for chat", he announced.
"Answer it!" Sam called obviously, not bothering to get up, voice muffled by the cushion.
Freddie hit the 'accept' button and Carly's face appeared on screen a few seconds later.
"Freddie!" she said happily.
"Hey, Carls!" he chuckled.
"How goes it?" she laughed.
He grinned. "Oh, it's really good", he answered mysteriously.
Carly raised an eyebrow. "Why are you so chipper? Hey, where's Spencer?"
"Spencer's camping for the weekend with Socko. He'll be back tomorrow sometime. Sam's been crashing here", Freddie laughed under his breath.
"Sam? Where is she?"
"On the couch acting like I killed her", he smirked, and turned the computer so the camera pointed towards the living room. "Sam, come say hi to Carly."
Carly saw Sam's hand poke over the couch cushions and wave around weakly, "Hi, Carls."
"What's wrong with her?"
"She's hiding", Freddie explained. "Gimme a sec to get her", he sighed. He put the computer back in the original position and got up. "Sam, get your lazy, overdramatic ass off the couch!" he ordered.
"Can't move!" she insisted.
"You're being a sore loser", he pointed out wryly, staring down at her in amusement, arms folded across his chest.
"You bet your ass I'm sore", she grumbled.
"I can't see what's going on!" Carly complained.
"Hold on!" Freddie hollered back. "Sam, don't make me pick you up and drag you over there", he threatened, wrestling her off the couch with some effort.
"Ow, ow, ow-" she whined.
"Don't be such a sissy", he teased.
"Oh, that is it!" They grappled for a few more seconds until she stopped trying to sucker punch him. "You'd better sleep with one eye open", she warned irritatedly.
"Come on", he prodded. "Carly's waiting."
He went back to the computer and sat on the bar stool, Sam trudging behind him. "She's coming", he told Carly mirthfully. "You gonna make it?" he asked over her shoulder.
"I hate you so much right now, you have no idea", Sam muttered, still out of sight of the camera.
Carly watched Freddie's half of the exchange with amusement and worry as he smiled slightly at Sam's proclamation of hatred.
"You lost, fair and square", he reminded easily.
"Lost what?" Carly demanded exasperatedly. "What's going on?"
"I bet Sam she couldn't run with me for a mile with stopping or having to vomit", he chuckled. "She did both."
Carly's eyes widened. Not good. "What did you make her do?" she asked warily.
"Hey, Carly", Sam's hand waved across the screen.
"Sam, you ran a mile?" Carly asked incredulously.
"She only made it about three-quarters of a mile", Freddie clarified. "Then she tried to make me carry her back here."
"Which you didn't, because you're a jerk", Sam muttered.
"I told you, you need to work on your stamina", he chuckled. "Ow! That didn't require a kidney punch!" he complained, rubbing his lower back.
"Sam, why are you hiding?" Carly asked, suddenly intrigued. "What was the bet?"
Freddie reached out and grabbed Sam's belt loop with a finger, tugging her into view, looking quite smug.
Carly stared in shock at her scowling best friend. "Sam… your hair is… pink", she stifled a giggle.
"I look like Strawberry freaking Shortcake", Sam snarled.
"It'll wash out in a couple weeks", Freddie laughed. "The bottle said twelve to sixteen washes."
"Oh, my god", Carly shook her head. Sam had to go to school with pink hair.
Sam hoisted herself onto the other stool with a hiss of pain. "I. Am. So. Sore." She glares at Freddie who is still amused. "I have weird muscles burning."
Freddie smirked, and he poked her thigh.
"Ow!" she slapped him.
"I'm glad you two are getting along", Carly said dryly. "Freddie, you got a picture, right?" she chuckled.
"Yeah, I did", he grinned. "I'll send you a copy later. Sam, you'd probably like running if you didn't try and kill yourself right off the bat", Freddie insisted.
"Bite me", she retorted mildly. "Not gonna happen."
"Exercise is good for you", he repeated.
"Exercise made me toss my breakfast", she moaned. "That's how I know it's evil."
"Sam… try it for a week", he grinned.
"What's in it for me?" she tilted her head thoughtfully.
He raised an eyebrow. "What do you want?"
She gnawed on her bottom lip, before an evil grin crossed her face. "If you're making me run… I'm gonna teach you to box."
"Oh, no", Carly sighed quietly.
"Box?" Freddie repeated incredulously.
"You heard me."
"I'm scared", he muttered.
"You can back out", Sam cocked an eyebrow challengingly.
Carly groaned. "Maybe this isn't a good idea."
Sam smiled widely. "Trust me. This is a great idea."
They were squared off in the iCarly studio, each wearing a pair of boxing gloves. Freddie looked around warily, plotting an escape route, even though Sam only looking slightly malicious.
"Okay, come at me."
"Hell no", Freddie shook his head. "Your reflexes are insane."
"Don't be such a chicken, Fredward", Sam rolled her eyes.
"I'm not! I'm just positive that this is gonna end with you kneeing me in the balls", he said seriously.
"That's not a legal move in boxing", Sam sighed exasperatedly. "I play dirty in street fights. This has rules to follow. I'm not going to make you curl on the floor in a crying ball – at least not today. Come at me", she repeated. "I have to know how bad you are, so I know what to do with you", she chuckled.
He groaned, bracing himself for pain, and followed her order. It ended awkwardly. His right leg tangled around her left, one arm around her back, the other on her opposite hip, fingers digging into her skin where her shirt rode up.
She tilted her head slightly to smirk at him.
"First of all", she laughed and let them untangle, "this isn't wrestling. So quit trying to grab at me. Second, whoever you're fighting, you're never supposed to make the first move."
"You told me to!"
She nodded sagely. "I know. Consider it a learning experience. Alright, block me." Sam lifted her gloved hands pointedly.
"Sam, my mom won't be happy if I come home with bruises", he tried weakly.
"Then don't let me hit you", she repeated.
They collapsed against beanbags almost an hour later, both catching their breath.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Sam asked mildly.
"Well, I'm still alive, so, ya know… two points", Freddie rolled his eyes.
She jabbed him with her elbow. "You are such a whiner. I didn't hurt you."
"You're a troll", he muttered. "And my ribs are bruised."
"Don't make fun of my hair! It's your fault", she hissed. "I have to go to school like this!"
"Sore loser", he chuckled.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever", Sam rolled her eyes. "We should get a couch up here", she said suddenly.
"A couch?" Freddie repeated skeptically.
"Yeah, it's too empty up here", she said quietly. "Spencer won't care. We could get a mini-fridge."
"You want to redecorate the iCarly studio?" he raised both eyebrows questioningly.
"Not completely- let's just find some stuff to put up here", she insisted. "It just seems to… empty."
Freddie sighed and gave in. "Fine."
That Tuesday school was cancelled due to a water problem. When Freddie went across the hall a little after eleven that morning, expecting Spencer to be doing something, he found Sam. He found Sam cleaning the loft.
He shut the door and leaned against it, watching warily as she swept her way down the steps. It seemed like she had been at it for a while. The house smelled like floor cleaners and bleach. The radio was blaring loudly, and she was wearing a large red t-shirt and tiny, white soffee shorts. She paused every few minutes to sing at the broomstick handle.
Freddie waited for the song to end before he spoke. "Having fun?"
She jumped, head snapping up to glare at him. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"
The next song came on and he headed in her direction so they wouldn't have to shout. "What are you doing?" he laughed.
"Spencer's in Portland for the day at some art exhibit", she explained. "This place was starting to get dirty. The kitchen floor's still wet. Stay out of there."
He opened his mouth to question her further when he actually caught some of the lyrics of the song that had just started. His eyes widened. "Uh, Sam… where'd you get this music?"
"I raided Spencer's CD collection and came out with this- why?" Her hips swiveled to the beat and her head bobbed, free arm wiggling around playfully as she did a playful turn on the stairs.
"This song is really… suggestive", Freddie managed finally.
Sam tilted her head curiously. "Huh", she shrugged, "So what? I like this song."
Freddie groaned. "Come on, turn this off. This is probably Spencer's… mood music", he finished awkwardly.
Her mouth tightened slightly before she shook her head. "It's not", she said finally. "And don't ask how I know that", she shuddered.
Sam groaned. "Spencer prefers Barry White", she rolled her eyes. "He thinks it 'works for him'."
"Seriously?" Freddie raised both eyebrows.
"Trust me", she muttered. "That particular ten-second conversation was one hundred times worse than my mother attempting to give me 'the talk'."
"Pretend this conversation never happened?" he suggested.
"Agreed", she nodded emphatically. "Hey, go make me some bacon."
"You just said I couldn't go in the kitchen."
She frowned. "Check if the floor's dry. Then go make me some bacon! I've gotta get this smell of Pine-Sol out of my nose."
"Never argue with the girl with pink hair", he muttered to himself as he headed towards the kitchen.
"Damn right!" she called.
A/N: Well, here's another one for you. And just so you know, the song I'm envisioning Sam dancing to is 'Come Baby Come' by K7. You can look it up on you-tube if you want. Thanks for reading. Leave me a review. =)