ingoodsentences | therapy - come right back to this (8) (Reply)

Title: Come Right Back To This
Author: thegraduate09
Fandom: iCarly
Pairing: Sam/Freddie
Rating: M
Summary: He doesn't mean to go about it like this, like - well, like she would.
Author's Note: This is it! Therapy is complete. Sequel coming soon. (Preview up on ff.net)

Sam brings it up again as soon as they get in the car, before she even buckles her seatbelt.
"This whole time, that's what you thought? That I was," she makes a face, these words are awkward for her and he hides a smile, "with you 'cuz my mom died? That's screwed up."
He drags out the silence 'til they're a quarter of the way home. It's a tribute to how far they've come, honestly, that she waits that long to poke him in the side and whine, "Freddie."
"Yeah, mostly. I mean, there wasn't any warning or signals beforehand and we didn't talk about it..."
"I don't talk about feelings," she interjects, and when he glances at her, her forehead is crinkled up adorably. He chuckles and makes an impulsive grab for her hand.
"I know. I just – forgot, I guess. And it was easy to think I was a sort of safety net more than something serious." He shrugs, keeps his eyes on the road and misses her thoughtful, then determined expression until they're on a relatively not busy back stretch of road. She tugs on his hand, bites her lower lip,
"Pull over."
"What?" He glances at her again.
"Pull over, Freddie."
He definitely knows better than to question that expression – let alone disobey it – so he does, and if he's perfectly honest he's only a little surprised when she clamors into his lap, slides his seat back a little, and drags both of his hands to her hips before he's even comprehended what's happening.
"Sam..."
She silences him with what the unfamiliar would call a glare, what he knows is more like 'if you doubt me right now you'll regret it,'
"This is something serious."
He smiles, leans his forehead forward against hers, "Thanks."
20 minutes later, when a police officer knocks on the window while her hands are down his pants and his are up her shirt, he informs her – only freaking out half as much as he should while she laughs – that she's rubbed off on him too much.
She replies with a smirk and a squeeze, and a "You're too easy, Fredvert."
"Not your best."
"Eh, I'll work on it."