iCarly Inseparable
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ICarly: ICan't Do This - Chapter 9 free porn video
iCarly: iCan't Do This - Chapter 9: Confide In Me
I wake up slowly, hesitantly, swimming up towards consciousness despite myself. The light hurts my eyes and the noise hurts my ears, and I just want to snuggle down into the couch and go back to sleep.
But I can smell bacon.
And that's probably what woke me up, 'cause my body's all twitchy but my brain is dead. I feel like a zombie. I lurch to my feet and stumble to the table, grabbing a hot rasher of bacon from the big plate that's sitting there. I chew on it automatically, my stomach rumbling in appreciation. It's another day. But I'm not awake yet. So I'll just enjoy the bacon until that happens. I reach out and take a sip of the orange juice that's been put in front of me, and it starts to clear the cobwebs from my brain.
I finish breakfast feeling a little better, starting to take notice of my surroundings. Spencer takes the empty plate and glass, and I stretch, my belly feeling tight. "Where is everyone Spence?" I yawn.
He looks back at me, "You mean Carly? She left for school early." Spencer turned and walked back to me, leaning on the table, "Hey, did you borrow something off her?"
My eyebrows furrow, "No... I don't think so. Why?"
Spencer shrugged, "It's just when she left this morning she kept looking at you like she wanted something."
I freeze. Fuck. Last night.
How could... how the fuck could I forget that? A muscle under my eye twitches and I stand quickly, the chair screeching back.
Spencer straightened, looking concerned. "Sam? Are you okay?"
I f0rce a tight smile onto my face. "Yeah, sure... I just... forgot I have to go to the bathroom."
Spencer raised his eyebrows, "Okay..."
I brush past him, moving to the bathroom quickly. I close the door with a click, my breath disappearing with it, hot flashes in my head. Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
She...
I...
I mean, we...
I splash cold water on my face, gasping at the shock as it hits my skin, and look at myself in the mirror, gripping the sides of the sink tightly. And my face is pale, my eyes wide. I look scared. Terrified in fact. At least for me. I watch my mirror-image raise her hand, touching it to her lips lightly, incredulously, before drawing it back and looking at it. I touched her with this hand. She... my eyebrow furrows, a few streams of water trickling at the disturbance. She... woke me up... to... to kiss me. To ask me to touch her, to make me touch her. My hand clenches into a fist. And then she ran. Ran back to her room without a word of explanation. And then she leaves early this morning.
What? She's ashamed? What? She can only touch me, only kiss me when it's dark and the middle of the night? Like I'm her little guilty treat? Like I'm her little fucking experiment?
I loosen my fist, crescent-shaped nail marks in my palm, and sigh. I'm pissed at her, yeah, but I know it's not like that. I have to believe it's not like that. I have to believe she wouldn't do that to me. And it's my fault really. I can't expect things to go like they do in the movies. Well, some movies. Girl meets girl, girl confesses love, girl gets girl. It's how it should be, and it is – but in the most fucked up way possible. I've got her, but it's in the middle of the night, and only for a moment. A moment she's ashamed of.
And is it better that something's happened? That she hasn't come out and said, 'No, I'm straight. You disgust me, and I hate you.' Would that be better? Would it hurt less?
Maybe. Because then I wouldn't know how good it felt to be so close to what I want. To have her. All of her. To have her want me. Maybe then I'd know for sure what the fuck was going on. But it's tearing me in two. And I need to get out of here. I need to get some fresh air and some perspective. This place is bringing me down. I laugh soundlessly, sure, it's the apartment's fault.
Spencer knocks on the door softly. "Sam, are you okay?"
And it's not his fault, but I feel this big swell of anger burn through me. I open the door quickly.
"Look Spence, just stop okay?"
He moves back a step, confused. "Stop what?"
"Stop treating me like I'm made of glass!"
"But... I'm just worried about you Sam." His voice is small, hurt.
I sigh, "I know... but you're not helping. You keep wanting to know if I'm okay, you and Freddie and... And Carly, and it reminds me that I'm not."
His face is sad, and his hand reaches out tentatively to touch my shoulder. "I... I'm sorry Sam. I... we don't know what else to do. We wanna help you. We love you."
I laugh mirthlessly at the 'we'. If only he knew how much Carly had been 'loving' me. He seems to take my laugh as something else.
"We do Sam. We do love you. You're like my little s!ster. What... how can I help you? I want to help you."
I look down. I can't look at him. He's too... it hurts me. That he cares this much. That he's hurt. And he draws me into a hug soundlessly, my face pressed into his shirt. And it's a different kind of good. A warm, safe hug. And Spence really is like a big brother to me. And I feel my stomach churn for snapping at him. But I was so sick of everyone tiptoeing around me.
He kisses the top of my head, letting out a long breath and I let him go with a sigh.
"I'm sorry Spence. I know... I know how you and... Everyone loves me. I do. And it helps, it does. But... can you just treat me normal? Like before? Before... everything."
And if only he knew how much that 'everything' encompassed.
I punch him in the arm lightly, "C'mon, I'm still the same Sam who eats you out of house and home! Have you checked your fridge? 'Cause it's empty!" I smile, and it almost feels real.
Spence laughs a little, rubbing his arm, "True. The fridge is barren. I'll go get some groceries." He moves to walk away, but pauses, looking back at me. "And... and I'll try Sam. But... it's hard when... when I see you and you're hurt. I don't know what else to do. Can… can you think about talking to me? I mean," His eyes flick to me, and I can see he's sincere, "I'm here for you Sam. For anything. You know I won't judge you."
And it makes me smile for real, this soft, vulnerable smile I can't stop. And I want to tell him, I really do. But I'm not ready. I nod slowly, "I know Spence. And... maybe I will... but... it's just, I mean right now it's…" I gesture, unsure how to explain my turmoil.
He nods understandingly. "It's okay. I'm always here. I mean," He rolls his eyes, "It's not like I have a job or anything."
I laugh, "Thanks Spence. I didn't mean to take it out on you. Freddie however-"
He waves a hand at me. "Eh, it's okay. You shouldn't keep things bottled up. I did that once and... It didn't end well." He grimaces and I grin,
"What happened?"
"I tackled a hotdog." He sees my incredulous expression. "A man dressed as hotdog."
My eyebrows furrow, "Um, why?"
Spencer's gaze gets distant, and he says in a wistful voice, "I'm not sure anymore." He seems to snap out of it, pointing a finger at me, "So you should never bottle things up. Or you just end up hurting people dressed as food. And yourself."
I make an 'A-Okay' sign with my hand. "Gotcha."
Spencer grins at me and goes, the door shutting softly behind him. I smile to myself, walking to the couch. And I feel a little better. Because I feel like maybe I can talk to Spencer, maybe I can tell him some of the shit that's tearing me up. I mean... I can't tell him about Carly... but the smaller stuff, I can get out... I can tell him. I guess there's just something about the Shays that makes me want to open up. I laugh condescendingly, yeah, open up in all sorts of ways. Carly was the only one I'd ever confided in.
I put a hand to my head. Fuck it. I'm gonna talk to her.
I'm not... I'm not just going to sit here and take this. I know that she's... I don't know, confused? I sigh. I'm not sure what she is. But I'm not gonna just let it go. I'm not just gonna accept this and let her hurt me. And I have to let her know that it is hurting me. More than I can bear.
I sigh, getting off the couch and going to the fridge. It really is empty. All that's left is half a jar of pickles and some questionable Chinese food. I pull it out, sniffing at the box. I shrug and grab the pickles as well. I need something to do. Need something to distract me.
I trip as I walk back to the couch, the pickle jar shattering against my chest and forearm as I land heavily. I lay there for a second, feeling the cold juice and gooey Chinese soak into my shirt.
I purse my lips, "Ah, fuck." I push myself up on hands, wincing as my hand grinds into the broken glass. Bad idea. My breath is knocked out when the pickle juice starts burning all the little cuts in my hand and arm. "Oh, fuck."
I stand there stupidly for a moment, just looking at the little pieces of glass in my arm, the blood mixing with the savoury juice. And of course that's when the apartment door opens.
"Hah, Sam, you won't believe this, but I got all the way down to 'Hey Food!' when I realised- oh." Spencer rushes over to me, "Sam? Are you okay? Oh," He puts a hand out tentatively, hovering over my arm, "You're bleeding..."
And his eyes are all big and trembly, and it's kind of funny, except I can hear what he's thinking... and he thinks I did this to myself. The fact that I'm standing here, just... not even concerned really, doesn't help.
But I laugh, somewhat uneasily, "Spence, it's okay! I just tripped. Really." I gesture at the floor.
He relaxes a little, taking in the mess on the floor. And on my shirt. "Well... here, let's get you over to the sink."
"Spence, you don't need to- ah! Fuck! That stings!" My eyes smart as the cold water hits my arm and hand. My top is taken off so he can clean the cuts on my chest too.
"I know, but I've gotta get the glass out. And the... pickle juice? What were you planning to eat?"
I wince as he moves the hose down my arm, glass tinkling into the sink. "Um... Chinese and pickles?"
He rolls his eyes. "You couldn't wait twenty minutes?"
I give him a look.
"Oh, right. You're Sam. Sorry." He turns the tap off, hooking the hose back and taking my forearm, inspecting it closely. "Huh, there's still some glass in there. I'm gonna grab my tweezers. Hang on!"
He jogs out of the kitchen, and I hear a scream and then a thud.
"Ah! I'm okay... just slipped on the Chinese! Oh..." He limps off, and I have to laugh. So Spencer.
I take a moment to look at my arm and chest… why didn’t I wear a bra last night? It looks a bit like when my cat Frothy attacked it, all covered in bright red scratches with little beads of blood welling. I flex my hand. Okay, it felt worse. I felt the split skin on my fingertips part when I moved them. That was gonna be annoying. But at least it wasn't my dominant arm. I mean, I can still wedgie a dork if I have to. And my chest will only be seen by one other, hopefully, other than me.
Spencer comes back out, clicking a pair of tweezers, "Found 'em!" He pauses in front of the mess on the floor, pointing an accusing finger at it before skirting around. "Now hold real still."
I bite my lip as he picks the fragments of glass out. "So... what did you forget?"
"Oh." He looks confused for a moment. "My wallet." His eyes narrow as he digs a particularly deep piece of glass out from between my breasts. "Sam... Was this... an accident?" I feel his hand tighten on me as he goes to dig another piece out.
"Spence." I sigh, "Come on. You know me. I wouldn't- I mean..."
He nods, "I know, but... I had to ask. It just... you scared me. Before I left, you seemed... I don't know, like you were thinkin' pretty hard."
"I was... I am..." I frown, taking in the sight of my splattered and soaked clothes. "I think I need a change of clothes."
Spencer looks around, letting go of me. "I haven't done the laundry yet... did you want to borrow some of Carly's? She won't mind."
I smile wryly, "Oh, I think she would." I mutter, flexing my arm… all better now, I think. "Can you take me to my mom's? I need to get some stuff anyway."
Spencer's face is soft. "You should talk to her."
"Look Spence, I know how you feel about this. But you don't know her like I do. She doesn't care! She's never cared! She's just worried now 'cause something finally happened and it makes her look bad. She doesn't give a shit about me."
"Sam... You can't really believe that."
I laugh bitterly, "She hasn't given me much reason to think otherwise. Look, she's not my mom. I mean, technically yeah, okay, but she's never acted like it. Don't try to change my mind about this Spence. Please."
He looks sad, and I guess maybe it's because he and Carly loved their mom so much. But he doesn't understand. My mom's only my mom in the sense that she gave birth to me. And I think she would have avoided that if she could.
There was only ever supposed to be Melanie.
I was never wanted, and my mom never had a problem letting me know that. So no, I don't think I'll talk to her. Just get in, get my shit, and get out. She's probably not even there. She never is during the day.
"Okay Sam, we'll go." Spencer says as he hands me a temporary shirt to wear.
I wake up slowly, hesitantly, swimming up towards consciousness despite myself. The light hurts my eyes and the noise hurts my ears, and I just want to snuggle down into the couch and go back to sleep.
But I can smell bacon.
And that's probably what woke me up, 'cause my body's all twitchy but my brain is dead. I feel like a zombie. I lurch to my feet and stumble to the table, grabbing a hot rasher of bacon from the big plate that's sitting there. I chew on it automatically, my stomach rumbling in appreciation. It's another day. But I'm not awake yet. So I'll just enjoy the bacon until that happens. I reach out and take a sip of the orange juice that's been put in front of me, and it starts to clear the cobwebs from my brain.
I finish breakfast feeling a little better, starting to take notice of my surroundings. Spencer takes the empty plate and glass, and I stretch, my belly feeling tight. "Where is everyone Spence?" I yawn.
He looks back at me, "You mean Carly? She left for school early." Spencer turned and walked back to me, leaning on the table, "Hey, did you borrow something off her?"
My eyebrows furrow, "No... I don't think so. Why?"
Spencer shrugged, "It's just when she left this morning she kept looking at you like she wanted something."
I freeze. Fuck. Last night.
How could... how the fuck could I forget that? A muscle under my eye twitches and I stand quickly, the chair screeching back.
Spencer straightened, looking concerned. "Sam? Are you okay?"
I f0rce a tight smile onto my face. "Yeah, sure... I just... forgot I have to go to the bathroom."
Spencer raised his eyebrows, "Okay..."
I brush past him, moving to the bathroom quickly. I close the door with a click, my breath disappearing with it, hot flashes in my head. Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
She...
I...
I mean, we...
I splash cold water on my face, gasping at the shock as it hits my skin, and look at myself in the mirror, gripping the sides of the sink tightly. And my face is pale, my eyes wide. I look scared. Terrified in fact. At least for me. I watch my mirror-image raise her hand, touching it to her lips lightly, incredulously, before drawing it back and looking at it. I touched her with this hand. She... my eyebrow furrows, a few streams of water trickling at the disturbance. She... woke me up... to... to kiss me. To ask me to touch her, to make me touch her. My hand clenches into a fist. And then she ran. Ran back to her room without a word of explanation. And then she leaves early this morning.
What? She's ashamed? What? She can only touch me, only kiss me when it's dark and the middle of the night? Like I'm her little guilty treat? Like I'm her little fucking experiment?
I loosen my fist, crescent-shaped nail marks in my palm, and sigh. I'm pissed at her, yeah, but I know it's not like that. I have to believe it's not like that. I have to believe she wouldn't do that to me. And it's my fault really. I can't expect things to go like they do in the movies. Well, some movies. Girl meets girl, girl confesses love, girl gets girl. It's how it should be, and it is – but in the most fucked up way possible. I've got her, but it's in the middle of the night, and only for a moment. A moment she's ashamed of.
And is it better that something's happened? That she hasn't come out and said, 'No, I'm straight. You disgust me, and I hate you.' Would that be better? Would it hurt less?
Maybe. Because then I wouldn't know how good it felt to be so close to what I want. To have her. All of her. To have her want me. Maybe then I'd know for sure what the fuck was going on. But it's tearing me in two. And I need to get out of here. I need to get some fresh air and some perspective. This place is bringing me down. I laugh soundlessly, sure, it's the apartment's fault.
Spencer knocks on the door softly. "Sam, are you okay?"
And it's not his fault, but I feel this big swell of anger burn through me. I open the door quickly.
"Look Spence, just stop okay?"
He moves back a step, confused. "Stop what?"
"Stop treating me like I'm made of glass!"
"But... I'm just worried about you Sam." His voice is small, hurt.
I sigh, "I know... but you're not helping. You keep wanting to know if I'm okay, you and Freddie and... And Carly, and it reminds me that I'm not."
His face is sad, and his hand reaches out tentatively to touch my shoulder. "I... I'm sorry Sam. I... we don't know what else to do. We wanna help you. We love you."
I laugh mirthlessly at the 'we'. If only he knew how much Carly had been 'loving' me. He seems to take my laugh as something else.
"We do Sam. We do love you. You're like my little s!ster. What... how can I help you? I want to help you."
I look down. I can't look at him. He's too... it hurts me. That he cares this much. That he's hurt. And he draws me into a hug soundlessly, my face pressed into his shirt. And it's a different kind of good. A warm, safe hug. And Spence really is like a big brother to me. And I feel my stomach churn for snapping at him. But I was so sick of everyone tiptoeing around me.
He kisses the top of my head, letting out a long breath and I let him go with a sigh.
"I'm sorry Spence. I know... I know how you and... Everyone loves me. I do. And it helps, it does. But... can you just treat me normal? Like before? Before... everything."
And if only he knew how much that 'everything' encompassed.
I punch him in the arm lightly, "C'mon, I'm still the same Sam who eats you out of house and home! Have you checked your fridge? 'Cause it's empty!" I smile, and it almost feels real.
Spence laughs a little, rubbing his arm, "True. The fridge is barren. I'll go get some groceries." He moves to walk away, but pauses, looking back at me. "And... and I'll try Sam. But... it's hard when... when I see you and you're hurt. I don't know what else to do. Can… can you think about talking to me? I mean," His eyes flick to me, and I can see he's sincere, "I'm here for you Sam. For anything. You know I won't judge you."
And it makes me smile for real, this soft, vulnerable smile I can't stop. And I want to tell him, I really do. But I'm not ready. I nod slowly, "I know Spence. And... maybe I will... but... it's just, I mean right now it's…" I gesture, unsure how to explain my turmoil.
He nods understandingly. "It's okay. I'm always here. I mean," He rolls his eyes, "It's not like I have a job or anything."
I laugh, "Thanks Spence. I didn't mean to take it out on you. Freddie however-"
He waves a hand at me. "Eh, it's okay. You shouldn't keep things bottled up. I did that once and... It didn't end well." He grimaces and I grin,
"What happened?"
"I tackled a hotdog." He sees my incredulous expression. "A man dressed as hotdog."
My eyebrows furrow, "Um, why?"
Spencer's gaze gets distant, and he says in a wistful voice, "I'm not sure anymore." He seems to snap out of it, pointing a finger at me, "So you should never bottle things up. Or you just end up hurting people dressed as food. And yourself."
I make an 'A-Okay' sign with my hand. "Gotcha."
Spencer grins at me and goes, the door shutting softly behind him. I smile to myself, walking to the couch. And I feel a little better. Because I feel like maybe I can talk to Spencer, maybe I can tell him some of the shit that's tearing me up. I mean... I can't tell him about Carly... but the smaller stuff, I can get out... I can tell him. I guess there's just something about the Shays that makes me want to open up. I laugh condescendingly, yeah, open up in all sorts of ways. Carly was the only one I'd ever confided in.
I put a hand to my head. Fuck it. I'm gonna talk to her.
I'm not... I'm not just going to sit here and take this. I know that she's... I don't know, confused? I sigh. I'm not sure what she is. But I'm not gonna just let it go. I'm not just gonna accept this and let her hurt me. And I have to let her know that it is hurting me. More than I can bear.
I sigh, getting off the couch and going to the fridge. It really is empty. All that's left is half a jar of pickles and some questionable Chinese food. I pull it out, sniffing at the box. I shrug and grab the pickles as well. I need something to do. Need something to distract me.
I trip as I walk back to the couch, the pickle jar shattering against my chest and forearm as I land heavily. I lay there for a second, feeling the cold juice and gooey Chinese soak into my shirt.
I purse my lips, "Ah, fuck." I push myself up on hands, wincing as my hand grinds into the broken glass. Bad idea. My breath is knocked out when the pickle juice starts burning all the little cuts in my hand and arm. "Oh, fuck."
I stand there stupidly for a moment, just looking at the little pieces of glass in my arm, the blood mixing with the savoury juice. And of course that's when the apartment door opens.
"Hah, Sam, you won't believe this, but I got all the way down to 'Hey Food!' when I realised- oh." Spencer rushes over to me, "Sam? Are you okay? Oh," He puts a hand out tentatively, hovering over my arm, "You're bleeding..."
And his eyes are all big and trembly, and it's kind of funny, except I can hear what he's thinking... and he thinks I did this to myself. The fact that I'm standing here, just... not even concerned really, doesn't help.
But I laugh, somewhat uneasily, "Spence, it's okay! I just tripped. Really." I gesture at the floor.
He relaxes a little, taking in the mess on the floor. And on my shirt. "Well... here, let's get you over to the sink."
"Spence, you don't need to- ah! Fuck! That stings!" My eyes smart as the cold water hits my arm and hand. My top is taken off so he can clean the cuts on my chest too.
"I know, but I've gotta get the glass out. And the... pickle juice? What were you planning to eat?"
I wince as he moves the hose down my arm, glass tinkling into the sink. "Um... Chinese and pickles?"
He rolls his eyes. "You couldn't wait twenty minutes?"
I give him a look.
"Oh, right. You're Sam. Sorry." He turns the tap off, hooking the hose back and taking my forearm, inspecting it closely. "Huh, there's still some glass in there. I'm gonna grab my tweezers. Hang on!"
He jogs out of the kitchen, and I hear a scream and then a thud.
"Ah! I'm okay... just slipped on the Chinese! Oh..." He limps off, and I have to laugh. So Spencer.
I take a moment to look at my arm and chest… why didn’t I wear a bra last night? It looks a bit like when my cat Frothy attacked it, all covered in bright red scratches with little beads of blood welling. I flex my hand. Okay, it felt worse. I felt the split skin on my fingertips part when I moved them. That was gonna be annoying. But at least it wasn't my dominant arm. I mean, I can still wedgie a dork if I have to. And my chest will only be seen by one other, hopefully, other than me.
Spencer comes back out, clicking a pair of tweezers, "Found 'em!" He pauses in front of the mess on the floor, pointing an accusing finger at it before skirting around. "Now hold real still."
I bite my lip as he picks the fragments of glass out. "So... what did you forget?"
"Oh." He looks confused for a moment. "My wallet." His eyes narrow as he digs a particularly deep piece of glass out from between my breasts. "Sam... Was this... an accident?" I feel his hand tighten on me as he goes to dig another piece out.
"Spence." I sigh, "Come on. You know me. I wouldn't- I mean..."
He nods, "I know, but... I had to ask. It just... you scared me. Before I left, you seemed... I don't know, like you were thinkin' pretty hard."
"I was... I am..." I frown, taking in the sight of my splattered and soaked clothes. "I think I need a change of clothes."
Spencer looks around, letting go of me. "I haven't done the laundry yet... did you want to borrow some of Carly's? She won't mind."
I smile wryly, "Oh, I think she would." I mutter, flexing my arm… all better now, I think. "Can you take me to my mom's? I need to get some stuff anyway."
Spencer's face is soft. "You should talk to her."
"Look Spence, I know how you feel about this. But you don't know her like I do. She doesn't care! She's never cared! She's just worried now 'cause something finally happened and it makes her look bad. She doesn't give a shit about me."
"Sam... You can't really believe that."
I laugh bitterly, "She hasn't given me much reason to think otherwise. Look, she's not my mom. I mean, technically yeah, okay, but she's never acted like it. Don't try to change my mind about this Spence. Please."
He looks sad, and I guess maybe it's because he and Carly loved their mom so much. But he doesn't understand. My mom's only my mom in the sense that she gave birth to me. And I think she would have avoided that if she could.
There was only ever supposed to be Melanie.
I was never wanted, and my mom never had a problem letting me know that. So no, I don't think I'll talk to her. Just get in, get my shit, and get out. She's probably not even there. She never is during the day.
"Okay Sam, we'll go." Spencer says as he hands me a temporary shirt to wear.
Aeryn
- 05.05.2021
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