Leah's Corner

The difference between reality and fiction...

Previous Entry Share Next Entry
iCarly - Freddie/Sam - House Guest - 1/?
sadie_k_adder wrote in leahs_corner
Title: House Guest
Chapters: One of I don't know how many at this present time
Author: sadie_k_adder or Sadie K. Adder
Genre: General fluff and comedy
Fandom: iCarly
Pairings: Freddie/Sam
Rating: PG for now, anyway
Warnings/Etc: iCarly and its characters belong to Dan Schneider; the plot bunny escaping down a poorly marked rabbit trail belongs to me. :]
Summary: Future!Fic (sort of); the kids are nearing 16 and looking forward to all that comes with that sweet age when Sam's mother takes a turn for the worst and kicks her out of the house. Will Sam become a permanent member of the Shay household? Is Spencer going to legally adopt her? Will Carly love Sam more or start to hate her? How exactly will I fit Freddie into this web of comical drama? Will Spencer figure out the person sending him Secret Love Letters is actually MRS. BENSON!?
Notes: Okay, there are actually no secret letters of love or hate in this story, I was just getting excited in the heat of asking plot directing, melodramatic questions. This is my first iCarly fic ever, though I have been a fan of the show for a long time, and writing fanfiction for an even longer time. This is a silly idea that came into my head, and I felt it had to be written. Please enjoy the fic. :)

Chapter One

There is a clever expression that I’m sure you have heard of called “turning over a new leaf.” This does not mean that you would literally pick up a new leaf and turn it over, but actually implies that you are going to do something different in order to forget a horrible memory, become a better person, or get rich quick. The beginning of a new year is a time most people pick for turning over a new leaf, and that is exactly what Mrs. Puckett decided to do on the very second day of the new year. I wish I could tell you she was turning over a new leaf in order to forget a horrible memory. I wish even more so that she was turning over a new leaf to become a better person. Unfortunately for Sam Puckett, her mother was turning over a new leaf to get rich quick—or at least, to save a few lousy bucks, which some lying self help books will tell you is one way to get rich quick.

School was still out for the winter break for a few more days so Carly Shay was rather enjoying her free time as she sat in front of the television to watch a marathon of Curly Cow. It was well past 11 AM, but she was still to be found in her purple nightie and comfortable slippers. Her dark hair was unbrushed, yet still appeared glamorous. And a small smile was curving her lips as she enjoyed the meaninglessness of the TV show. As I’m sure you know, when you have been at school for many months and receive a bit of a break, you too are quite happy to bask in something that does not require much brain power, like watching a marathon of Curly Cow.

Carly popped a grape into her mouth and robotically turned up the sound on the TV when her brother, Spencer, turned on his power tool from his bedroom nextdoor. He was working on something that she hadn’t seen or even heard much about (apart from the ruckus of power tools, which, as you know, are very easy to hear without even trying too hard). Apparently, this was something he had deemed worthy of labeling “Top Secret,” so he was always in his bedroom lately, and when he wasn’t, the object in question was covered with an old SpongeBob SquarePants sheet Carly had grown out of. Now, I am obliged to let you know that Carly’s older brother was not a spy who was working on something that would cause global mayhem if it fell into the wrong hands. He was simply an artist working on a sculpture—though, that, too, could cause global mayhem if it fell into the wrong hands. You never know.

It was on this crisp morning on the second day of January while Carly was watching one of her favorite TV shows that her cellphone buzzed, alerting her to a new text message. Eyes still glued to the television, she reached over to the arm of the couch and picked up the device, finally tearing her gaze from the screen to look at the text she had received. It was from Sam, and said nothing more than: Mom kicked me out. Be over in a few.

Any normal person would have leaped up in surprise the moment they saw such a text, but Sam’s mother kicked her out almost every day, shouting and cursing, “Get out of my hair!” or something else mean and utterly ridiculous. (Of course, Sam was never actually in her mother’s hair, but I’m sure you realized that is merely an expression like “turning over a new leaf.”) So Carly texted back a lazy K and got back to her TV show.

Moments later when the doorbell rang, Carly called out, “Come on in!” She knew, as you do, that it was Sam at the door. However, the door didn’t budge. Carly called out again, “Come on in!” Not even a rattle from the doorknob. This drew Carly’s attention from the screen, and she looked over at the door in exasperation, as if it was somehow its fault the person on the other side of it couldn’t hear her. “Come in!” She yelled once more.

This time, the doorbell rang again. And again. And again and again and again and again… Spencer called from the bedroom, “Hey, Carly, can you get that?”

Carly let out a sigh that sounded a little more like a tiny growl, and marched over to the door to fling it open. The sight that met her eyes was an astounding one. It was true that Sam stood on the other side of the threshold—Sam, who looked like she’d woken up a mere few minutes before arriving on Carly’s doorstep, tousled blonde hair more tousled than usual, and a pair of sweats and a tee shirt adorning her slender body. Of course, you must know Carly wasn’t shocked to see Sam’s tousled hair or casual sleepwear. What shocked Carly was the luggage Sam had with her, which had disabled her from opening the door herself. “Hey, Carls,” Sam said simply, as though it were any other day and she normally walked around town with all of her possessions.

“Sam!” Carly exclaimed, standing aside so Sam could enter. “What are you doing with all of this stuff?”

Sam dropped her stuff in the doorway and bounded inside. “Man, I need some breakfast! Hey, can Spencer make some of those chocolate chip pancakes with strawberries and bananas and blueberries and gummy bears?”

“No, he can’t! And they don’t have strawberries, bananas, blueberries and gummi bears—just chocolate chips and whipped cream!” A normal person might have been surprised that Sam just barged in, asking about chocolate chip pancakes, but Carly was more surprised that Sam had barged in without bringing the luggage that she still hadn’t explained yet.

“I can dream, can’t I?” Was Sam’s reply, a dreamy look coming over her face before she opened the refrigerator and stuck her nose in it.

It was at this time that Freddie’s voice joined the cacophony, and he called from the hallway beyond Sam’s luggage, “Carly? What’s going on in here? My mom sent me over to make sure nobody was hurt.”

When Carly and Sam looked at Freddie—who was fully dressed in khaki pants and a polo shirt, mind you—they saw he had a flashlight in one hand, a first aid kit in the other, and a pillow taped to his front, somewhat obscuring the sky blue of his polo shirt.

Sam snorted. “What’s with the suit of armor, Benson?” She asked, of course mocking the pillow he was wearing because it would have been more ridiculous for him to be wearing a suit of armor than a pillow.

Freddie blushed ever so slightly, and pulled the pillow off of himself, shoving the flashlight and first aid kit into the pillowcase. “My mom wanted me to be protected in case—oh, nevermind!” He ended with a growl similar to Carly’s previous one, only more manly, because Sam wasn’t listening to him. She was chortling as she peered back inside the refrigerator. “But really—what’s going on here?” Freddie repeated himself.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out!” Carly burst, whirling on Sam.

“I told you,” Sam said with a sigh, her face still inside the fridge. “My mom kicked me out.”

“With all your belongings?” Carly gasped, her eyes roving over to the pile of bags at Freddie’s feet.

“Oh yeah,” Sam turned around to face them again, “bring those inside, Fredward.”

Freddie crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not bringing in your—”

“I SAID BRING THOSE INSIDE, BENSON!” Sam roared with surprising volume considering her tiny frame.

Freddie made a sound that was somewhere between a frustrated whine and a nervous yelp, and started to gather up the bags, probably wondering all the while how someone as small as Sam had managed to trek all the way over to Carly’s door with them in tow.

It was at this moment that Spencer joined in the cacophony as well, having been roused out of his artist’s coma by the roaring, surprised shouting, and perhaps also Freddie’s use of profanity when he accidentally dropped Sam’s heaviest bag on his big toe. Of course, this use of profanity was followed by Carly gasping again and saying, “Freddie!” in a scolding manner, as though merely saying a person’s name is scolding them. Sam applauded and graced Freddie with one of her rare, Freddie Benson-directed grins, cheering, “All right, Benson!”

No one had noticed Spencer yet as he stood in the background, surveying the scene with pursed lips. He wordlessly marched right up to the couch, climbed over the back of it, and stood right in the spot Carly had been enjoying Curly Cow what felt like ages ago. “WHAT IS GOING ON!?” He boomed in his very Spencer-ish way, his eyes clenched shut and arms flailing for dramatic effect.

While the three kids couldn’t seem to stop roaring, exclaiming and loudly spewing curse words a few seconds ago, they very suddenly couldn’t seem to utter even the tiniest peep. Spencer Shay was the least intimidating person you will ever meet, if I may interject to say so, but even if you knew Spencer as well as you know your favorite pet, you might have been stunned speechless by his arm-flailing outburst, too.

It was Sam who bravely stepped forward from the kitchen and announced, “My mom kicked me out.”

“I don’t understand, Sam,” Carly said a little more calmly than she’d said anything all morning. “Why’d you bring all your luggage with you this time?” You know the answer to that, just as Carly did. Like most people who know a truly awful answer, she didn’t want to attempt to state it aloud, or even believe it until someone else answered her answer for her.

Sam shrugged, averting her eyes from everyone else. It wasn’t that she was sad or embarrassed, but Sam Puckett was a very prideful person. For a prideful person, it can be tough to admit to anything, whether it be that you’re sorry for making fun of someone who’s never been kissed before, or that your less-than-admirable mother is turning over a new leaf and kicking you out of her house. “She doesn’t want me to come back at all this time. She said she’s tired of feeding me and she’s going to rent out my bedroom to make a little extra money.”

“That’s insane!” Freddie was the first to react, much to everyone’s surprise.

“I know!” Spencer joined in. “Sam’s mom never fed her! Why else would she be over here eating our food all the time?”

Carly sighed. “Spencer, I think Freddie means it’s insane that Sam’s own mother kicked her out of the house in order to make an extra buck.”

“Oh, she’ll make more than a buck,” Sam interjected. “She’s trying another one of her crazy get rich quick schemes.”

“Oh, Sam,” Carly said, which didn’t really mean anything, but is a way of telling a person in very few words that you sympathize and care for them and you’ll help in any way that you can within the limits of the law.

Carly hugged Sam tightly as if to make Sam’s non existent pain at the parting of ways between she and her mom go away. When she stepped back, eyebrows furrowed in the utmost concern, she said, “Where will you stay?”

A smirk started to play on Sam’s lips, and it dawned on Carly where she intended to stay. Carly grinned and spun around to face Spencer, grabbing onto Sam’s hand for support or for fun or just to make the fans squeal over how impossibly cute it was. “Spencer! Can Sam stay with us?”

Spencer’s jaw dropped, and then he crossed his arms over his chest—something he did when he wanted to convey to Carly that he was a real adult and not just a silly one. “Carly…I just don’t think that’s a good idea. Mom and Dad left me in charge of you—not you and Sam. And we don’t know how long she’ll have to be here, you know? I’m sure there’s legal…stuff…and what have you…” He trailed off, not knowing what to say next as Carly’s and Sam’s faces fell.

“Please, Spencer? Can she at least stay for awhile?” Carly pleaded. “For all we know, her mom will realize how horrible she’s being and Sam will be able to go back home. Please, Spencer? Please?”

“Pleeeeeeease, Spencer?” Sam added, using the clever technique of drawing out her “please” to make it longer and harder to say no to, a trick which almost always works, just to let you know.

Spencer chewed on his bottom lip in thought, finding that last please would be hard to say no to. Freddie climbed over the obstacle course that was Sam’s belongings and decided to toss in his own two cents—of course, he didn’t really throw two pennies into the middle of the floor, because that would have made an entirely different statement. Actually, he spoke up loudly and boldly and said, “I agree with Spencer! I think—”

Unfortunately for Freddie, his two cents were worth one bit to Sam, which is a very old form of currency the early Americans used that cost about half a penny. She cut him off loudly to say, “Yeah, yeah, we all know I’ll make your life more miserable living right across the hall and you’ll never have a moment alone with Carly. Save it for someone who cares.”

Freddie crossed his arms over his chest in imitation of Spencer, though in his case, this was a way of looking grumpy, annoyed and like he was throwing a silent temper tantrum in his mind.

Spencer seemed to be holding his breath for a long time, because when he let out a sigh at long last, it was monstrous and seemed to fill the whole room. He stepped down from his soapbox couch as a way of recognizing defeat, and said, “Okay, Sam can—”

Whatever Sam could do (though you and I could probably figure it out without hearing the rest of Spencer’s sentence), no one ever heard because Carly shrieked and Sam let out a loud cheer as she punched the air with her fist. They hugged and then Carly grabbed Sam’s hand once more and began to drag her to the elevator. “Come on, we’ll figure out where you can sleep and put your stuff! Freddie, can you please take Sam’s things upstairs?”

“What?” Freddie gawped. “Why do I have to?”

Instead of answering him, Carly did something very strange indeed. She turned around, gave him a sweet look, and said, “Please? For me?”

It’s at this point I must make mention of Freddie’s Shoulder Angel and Shoulder Devil, which like to tell him to do different things. We all have these, of course, and some of us are more in tuned to them than others. Some of us nearly always listen to the Angel, while others of us are more prone to listening to the Devil. In fact, I think some of us have sent our Angels on permanent vacations. At any rate, Freddie’s Shoulder Angel was telling him, You should take Sam’s bags up there anyway because it would be so very kindhearted and selfless to do so! The Shoulder Devil instantly quipped, You should take Sam’s bags up there because maybe that will be the stroke of good intention you need to finally get Carly to fall in love with you! It is very rare indeed that Shoulder Angels and Shoulder Devils agree on something, but this seemed to happen to Freddie almost every time Carly said, “Please? For me?” And perhaps it is because of that fact, rather than Carly’s dulcet tones, that always made him do what she asked.

Unfortunately for Freddie, the girls had already taken the elevator up by the time he got all the bags situated, their straps wrapped around his various body parts so they would not be accidentally left behind. And, also unfortunately for Freddie, who is usually very clever, he did not think to himself that he might be able to use his nose (for his hands weren’t free) or forehead to push the elevator button, so he dragged Sam’s bags up the staircase, grumbling under his breath all the while. It took him at least five minutes to get up the first flight, and another five to get up the second. Then, Spencer was all alone downstairs. His top secret sculpture forgotten, he sat down on the couch with a troubled sigh, fishing the remote out of the cushions and turning off the TV before depositing a whole handful of grapes into his mouth.

It wasn’t that Spencer didn’t like Sam Puckett. On the contrary, he found her presence fun and even delightful as long as it was in healthy doses. He didn’t particularly mind her abrasive nature. He had never really found her a bad influence on his little sister—in fact, it seemed Carly had been rubbing off on Sam bit by bit, reigning her in so that she was more tolerable than she used to be. No, Spencer was feeling a mixture of emotions that had caused him to let out the legendary Spencer Troubled Sigh. He was sorry for Sam, of course. Having been procreated by very loving and accepting parents, he couldn’t possibly understand what it was like for her to be kicked out of the house by her own mom, just a few short months before turning sixteen (which, as you know, is not adulthood in the land of America). He was proud of Carly for how patient she always was with her best friend, helping her in her great times of need, even if it meant sharing her room, which she had never had to do before. He was mildly surprised at Freddie for swearing like he had, and then for dragging all of Sam’s possessions up the stairs instead of using his nose or forehead to summon the elevator back down. He was curious as to why there was a lumpy pillow lying abandoned in front of the door, which was still standing wide open. But most of all, he was concerned over something many of you can probably relate to.

It is not uncommon that two people who have been best of friends their whole lives decide to move in together once they have reached adulthood in the land of America. They might believe they will make the best of roommates simply based on their best of friendship. However, it has been known to happen, that even the best of friends will become the worst of enemies once they have signed that binding contract and gotten a place together. He wasn’t about to make Sam sign a lease and start paying rent, of course, but he was very worried that once Sam had lived in the Shay household for a little too long, she would wear out her welcome. He wasn’t worried that he would get tired of Sam’s presence (because he kind of already knew he would after awhile). What Spencer was worried about most was that Carly and Sam would turn from the best of friends to the worst of enemies.

After a few minutes of entertaining these haunting thoughts, Spencer finally decided to move the lumpy pillow onto the couch (audibly questioning why it was there as he did so), shut the front door, and head back to his room to work on the top secret sculpture. But as you know, and as I know, when one’s head is clouded with worrisome thoughts, they tend to take up all the room so there can be no space left for thoughts of any other kind. This happened to Spencer’s artistic thoughts, and he ended up standing dumbly in front of his sculpture without working on it for a very long time.

To be continued...


Notes: 1) This was meant to be a oneshot, but I got really into introducing the characters and narrating and adding over-the-top detail, and by the time I got to page 3 in Word I knew it wasn't meant to be a oneshot. So over the next few days, if time permits (which it should, as I definitely have the weekend off), I intend to complete this multi-chaptered fic and share it piece by piece.
2) I know it is very popular, and for very good reason, to title a fic iSomething. I thought about that, but decided not to because it's simply not my style. I would probably get verbally gunned down by Simon if I was in American Idol, but I prefer to do what makes me comfortable, even if it isn't the popular thing.
3) I have a growing habit of somehow bringing SpongeBob into every fic that I write because I just love that show and I like to shout out to it because the likelihood of my writing a SpongeBob SquarePants fanfiction in the coming years is little to none.
4) Lo! Sam uses real words when she texts! I hate using textcronyms or whatever they call one letter words in the texting verse, so I decided Sam wouldn't be using them either. Although, strangely enough, Carly sort of does...
5) I like iCarly a lot and so I hope you like my writing a least a little so I can continue to write for this fandom as strokes of inspiration hit me. Thank you for your time, everyone!
Tags: ,

  • 1
I actually like the drawn out narration. I'm pretty sure in this case it's intentionally written that way. There are plenty of novelists who use this lackadaisical, wordy style with great success. I guess it's just a matter of taste.

Yeah, I liked it in the beginning but I think there's a way to do the drawn-out narration for great effect and there's a way of doing it by just not being aware that it's like that.

But hey, I'm glad you posted that 'cause I felt maybe I was a little harsh in my other review :S

  • 1

Log in

No account? Create an account