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So. I was poking around in my documents folder when I found about 1000 words of an unfinished sequel to Pout & Polish, one of my favorite iCarly fanfics I wrote. (P&P is the one where Sam is mad cuz Carly's friends with cool girls and Freddie comes over to get his laptop from Sam but he ends up painting her toenails purple for her and they have a sort of detente before deciding to crash a party.) It's called High Times & Lo Mein. It's a few pages of atmospheric Seddie preshippery that exhibits my newfound intimate knowledge of the real Seattle bus and neighborhood system, followed by slightly 400 words of my internal mental ramblings, explaining the outline of the rest of the way too long for its own good story, including lines like "And then, because foreshadowing is inevitable, Sam utilizes the tiki torches to SET SHIT ON FIRE" and more!

Because I found it, and because I really don't know if I'll ever finish it, and because I COMPLETELY FORGOT I'D WRITTEN IT, and discovered that it's not so bad, I'm sharing it with the few stragglers who have me on their flists, even though all my LJ is anymore is a twitter archiver. Happy New Year, bitches.

Title:High Times & Lo Mein a sequel to Pout & Polish
Fandom: iCarly
Pairing: Sam/Freddie
Rating: PG, maximum
Notes: COMPLETELY UNFINISHED but with an explained rambly plot & resolution written so I could remember my intentions... but then I forgot I had even written the thing or had the idea in the first place. And if you haven't read Pout & Polish you won't know what's going on, either.

High Times & Lo Mein a sequel to Pout & Polish

We tromp down the stairs and out the Puckett’s door in the very beginnings of dusk, and I think to myself that I should probably just take the bus straight back home. Mom is undoubtedly going to worry about me. She was worried enough already when I said I was going to Sam’s. Riding the public bus alone is something she’s only recently come to terms with me doing, and ending up in Sam’s company is not her idea of safety.

Grimly, I shoulder my laptop bag and wait alongside Sam at the bus stop on the corner, across the street and going the wrong direction from the line homeward.

“She lives down in Wallingford, right?” Sam leans into me, startling me out of my thoughts.

“Er, yeah, it’s like, the other side of school. How did you even know her, anyway?” I look down to see Sam’s purple toenails catching the last of the blue light. She’s wiggling them, obviously cold and unused to the Spring air.

“What do you mean? We go to school together.”

“Well yeah but it isn’t exactly like you’ve ever…” I try to search for the term that won’t get me slapped upside the head, “traveled in the same social circles.”

I suffer one of her brief glares as the bus rounds the corner, roaring up the hillside and slowing at the sight of us, leaning on the side of the bus shelter. “Hebrew school. Fourth grade, we had to learn our aleph bets together.”

She leaps up the stairs and flashes her bus pass as I boggle. By the time I remember to get on the damn bus, she’s seated halfway in the back, in the hinge of the bus. “You went to Hebrew school?” I ask this as I plop down across from her, slinging my bag onto my lap.

Sam sighs and splays herself out across the two green seats as the bus sways and lurches towards the U-District. “Well I didn’t finish it, that’s for sure. Got kicked out before my mom could see me become a woman at thirteen.”

“You got kicked out of Hebrew School. For what, insufficient guilt?”

Sam looks askance, and then back to me. “Did you know that Torahs are made from sheep skin?” she asks, seemingly in an attempt to change the subject.

“I do now.”

“They take years to make. Each one is special. You can’t touch them because the oils on your hands will smudge the writing and ruin the oily vellum. They have a special pointer tool and everything to keep you from losing your place. Mom’s synagogue had one that matched their Shabbat candlesticks.” Sam’s fidgeting with her fingers. “When kids are ten there, they get to help light the candles for services in a big class group. The candlesticks are really cool, they have these silver leaves up the sides.”

“What does this have to do with you getting kicked out of Hebrew School?” It’s almost time to get off the bus, so I’m peering out the windows, watching for our stop, not really looking at Sam anymore.

“Freddie,” she says, and I snap my attention back on her, “did you know that sheep skin smells really rank when you accidentally set it on fire?”

I pull the cord for our stop. “I’m calling my mom,” I say.

“Sweetie, you don’t even have any flowers!” Mom’s voice is shrill, I can feel her panic seeping through the phone and into my brain.

“It’s just a party. It’s not a wedding, come on. I’ll be back before you know it.” Sam’s watching me with growing aggravation. We can hear Rebecca’s party from a block away, and I can tell that Sam is raring to show up and start some trouble.

“I’m just not comfortable with this,” Mom squeaks. “You’re with that Puckett girl, and I don’t know any of these children you’ll be with, and-” Her voice is abruptly cut off when Sam wrenches my phone out of my hand.

“Mrs. Benson? Hi! It’s Carly. Yuhuh!” Sam’s whole posture has shifted and out of her mouth comes the most uncanny reflection of Carly’s sweet voice. It doesn’t match her one bit and I’m frozen, my arm out, grasping at the air where my phone used to be.

“I promise to keep an eye on him. It’ll be fine, it’s only a few kids and some lemonade. Yeah. Back before nine, absolutely!” Sam pushes away my pathetic attempts at getting my phone back with kick to my shin. “Freddie’s safe with me, Mrs. B!” And then, as I clutch my shin in pain, Sam’s voice drops an octave. “That’s how it’s done, nub.”

“How did you do that?” I pocket my phone and trail after Sam, who is making a beeline towards the hum of the party.

“Carly’s easy. You should hear me when I call girls you like, discuss the merits of high def spy cameras, and breathe heavily at them.”

Half my mind is spluttering out a “what?” and the other half is trying to come to grips with our current predicament. It’s an evening time pool party, with tiki torches glowing from the backyard over the high wooden fence, and the smell of pineapple cocktail weenies wafting in the air. I can hear the heavy treble of pop music and the uncontrollable noise the majority of the freshman class of Ridgeway can make when given a rich girl’s patio to play on.

Sam and I hover in the cool dark, the light from behind the fence tracing thin, golden lines over our faces. One of her hands hovers over the latch to the gate, and the other clutches my arm.

“Benson, I need you to be cool. This isn’t going to work if you aren’t gonna be cool. I know it’s a stretch.” She’s leaned into my space again, and I catch my breath. “But if you’ve managed to absorb any of my mojo from being my friend, I need you to call on it now.”

Straightening my shoulders, Sam releases my arm and unlatches the gate, opening it just enough to slip inside. Her arm comes back out and pulls me through by the strap of my bag, and we’re in.

They meet up with Carly, there’s discussion of weenies, Rebecca sees Sam and Sam blames Freddie and Freddie blames Sam, Wendy dances with Freddie, Sam and Carly make up from their previous fight but Carly is all “omg you guys aren’t sposed to be here spaz spaz spaz” rebecca’s chaperone (cool older sister, maybe?) is all “we have enough mini quiches for everyone, becca, it’s okay” and Rebecca is all “she’s RUINING my PARTY” and “She isn’t COOL ENOUGH” and Carly is like “oh yeah well then NEITHER AM I” and it’s awesome. And then, because foreshadowing is inevitable, Sam utilizes the tiki torches to SET SHIT ON FIRE and wreak total havok and probably set cupcakes ablaze. And Sam and Freddie make a RUN FOR IT, causing Freddie’s laptop to drown in the pool.

Sam and Freddie end up at Madam Chang’s, which is the Chinese place across the doorway from the Groovy Smoothie, because Sam is still hungry despite stuffing her face with fun umbrella drinks etc at berkowitz’s, and Freddie was too nervous to eat or something, and it’s the only place that’s open after nine (recall freddie’s curfew being nine, OOPS). Sam ruefully apologizes for the laptop going in the pool, and Freddie is basically like “it was worth it, maybe kinda” and sam is all “dude, now I don’t have a laptop anymore” and Freddie says “but it was MINE not YOURS” and she’s all “that’s what YOU think.” They get lo mein, and some other stuff, and basically have a date accidentally, and it’s fabulous. And Freddie is all “so we’ve been friends, eh?” and Sam is all “I didn’t say that. When did I say that? You’re a nub who paints his mom’s toenails, ew, grossface.” Which Freddie just kind of ignores, realizing that he’s like an hour past curfew. And they hightail it back to the bushwell. They grab Carly to lie to Mrs B about there being a bus problem or whatever and in the hallway, Carly says “Rebecca is never going to forgive you, Sam” and sam is all “It’s nothing she hasn’t seen before” referencing the horrible flaming torah incident. And Freddie says something that indicates that his friendship with Sam HAS rubbed off on him and he’s absorbed some of her “mojo” (but I don’t know what he would say yet). THE END. Approximately.



Dec. 27th, 2010 12:37 am (UTC)
lol, maybe it was over IM or maybe I was looking through your iCarly fics on your FF profile. You should, rambly thoughts FTW, haha.