A/N: When you review, please feel free to tell me what doesn't work.

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly.

***

Playing House

Our house is a very, very, very fine house
With two cats in the yard.
Life used to be so hard.
Now everything is easy 'cause of you.

Crosby, Stills and Nash, "Our House"

On Sunday morning, Sam woke up with sunlight streaming onto her face. She stretched with the lazy grace of a cat and untangled herself from the sticky sheets. She pulled on yesterday's clothes and headed up to Carly's bathroom for a shower. Afterwards, coming down the stairs in borrowed clothes, she heard Spencer singing a rambling song about pancakes. "Morning, Sam," he said, waving the spatula at her with such a happy, sappy grin on his face that it scared her.

"Hey, Spence," she smiled back. "Got any bacon?"

Sam microwaved the bacon and poured two glasses of milk. Spencer brought her a huge stack of pancakes, topped with sliced bananas in the shape of a heart. She stared for a moment and said soberly, "You're such a sentimental fool."

Spencer grinned. "And you're such a cynical, bad-ass chick. You know what they say. Opposites attract." Sam silently attacked the pancakes. Spencer watched her while she ate. Finally he asked, "Anything wrong, Sam?"

"Why?" she asked.

"You're awfully quiet," he observed, "And you cooked an entire pound of bacon, but you haven't touched it. When Sam Puckett ignores pork products, something is wrong."

"What happens next?" she blurted out.

"We fall madly in love, have nine children and 37 grandchildren and die peacefully in our sleep," he said with a smile.

"Can I move in first?" she asked.

"You pretty much live here already," said Spencer with a puzzled look on his face.

"I want a place to keep my stuff," explained Sam. "I'm sick of going home to do my laundry and storing all my clothes in a Mall-Mart bag."

Spencer smacked his forehead. "Sometimes I'm such an idiot. Of course you can. If you'd like, I'll fix up the old iCarly studio. Just give me a couple days."

***

Sam wedged her fingers into the crack between the window and sill. The window slid up an inch, then jammed. She struck the wood frame with a flattened palm, brushed a few paint flakes off her hands, and shoved the window open. She climbed into her bedroom with the suitcase Spencer had loaned her. The scuffed blue walls were bare, but the floor was littered with piles of laundry, dirty dishes and unfinished homework assignments. As she sorted through the clutter, she was surprised by how little she wanted to keep. She gathered up clothes and shoes and a few pictures that were taped to her dresser mirror. She pried up a loose floorboard and retrieved the pocketknife her grandmother had left her. She considered a stack of comic books, but decided to leave them for the next set of Puckett cousins who came to stay "for a few days" while another aunt was in jail or unemployed. She also considered unlocking the door and leaving it open, so that her mom would know she was really gone this time. She decided against it. If her mom wanted to get into her room, she could damn well pick the lock.

***

Carly tossed her bags inside the door and collapsed on the couch. "That woman is insane. We stopped at KenTacoHut for lunch and she ordered chicken. When we got to the table she whipped out a meat thermometer. Then she called OSHA to get the number of the local health inspector."

"OSHA?" asked Sam.

"Organization for Safety and Health, or something," said Carly. "She had them on speed dial. The meat was like two degrees Fahrenheit below the recommended cooking temperature. What kind of nutcase carries a meat thermometer in her purse?"

"Wait," said Spencer. "Mrs. Benson stopped at a fast food joint?"

"She was actually holding out for some organic vegetarian place, but it was like 70 miles away and we were starving. So Freddie faked hypoglycemia." Carly grinned. "You would have been proud of him, Sam. He's a much better liar than he used to be."

"Hey, little sis," said Spencer. "I know what'll take your mind off your lousy weekend. We've got Galini's pie."

"What's the special occasion?" asked Carly.

Sam and Spencer glanced at each other. Sam said quickly, "We need to tell you something."

Carly gave her brother a searching look and said, "Spencer, please tell me you did not seduce my best friend."

"No, little sister, I can honestly say I did not," said Spencer, relieved to be off the hook.

Carly sighed in relief.

Sam grimaced, "Actually, I seduced him."

"Oh my God, I knew it!" Carly shrieked.

"So," asked Spencer, "do we have your blessing?"

Carly said, "You know I love both of you, but—"

"This is going to take a while," interrupted Sam. "Let's eat, people." She went to the kitchen, cut a huge wedge of pie and devoured half of it before Carly and Spencer were seated at the table. Sam licked the tines of her fork and said, "OK, Carls, let us have it."

"I just can't deal with the two of you—you know." She wrinkled her nose. "No offense, but ew."

"So you would projectile vomit if you saw us kiss?" asked Sam.

"Thank you, Sam, for making that image even more pleasant," said Carly sarcastically.

"Look, Carly, we're not going to start making out on the couch in front of you," said Spencer, clearly annoyed.

"But she's going to spend the night here," said Carly uncomfortably.

"She's been staying here for years," said Spencer, attempting to be patient.

"Well, it's different now," said Carly.

"Wait a minute," exclaimed Sam. "Do you remember when we promised each other we'd never fight over a guy again?

"Yeah, so?" asked Carly.

"We're fighting over a guy," said Sam triumphantly.

"Sam, this isn't the same," argued Carly.

"Maybe it is," said Sam. "Maybe this can work if we just set some ground rules."

"Like what?" asked Carly.

"Anything you told me as a best friend that you maybe don't want your big brother to know—I won't tell Spencer," promised Sam.

"OK, you can hug in front of me, maybe kiss," said Carly reluctantly, "but no really embarrassing stuff."

"If you need your big brother, he's yours," said Sam reassuringly.

"What if you guys are in his room?" asked Carly.

"You should probably learn to knock," said Sam.

"Do I get to make any rules?" asked Spencer.

"No," said both girls in unison.

"Great," grumbled Spencer, "This must be what it's like to live on Planet Freddie."

"Don't feel bad, said Carly, giving Spencer a sly look. "You were never in charge here. I just let you think you were."

***

It took Spencer a week, working while Sam was at school. He forbade her to go anywhere near the third floor until he was done.

Sam's hands were pressed tightly over her eyes. Spencer guided her carefully out of the elevator and into the center of the studio. "OK," he said. "Open your eyes." The car was still in its niche. A shaggy green rug covered a large section of the floor. Two not-quite-matching armoires, painted sky blue with speckles of yellow and white, stood side by side against the right-hand wall. A double bed heaped with comforters rested on the platform by the window. In the corner near the car stood a tree sculpture. The trunk was woven out of thick strands of copper wire, which twisted together into smaller bundles to form branches and finally separated into individual twigs. At the bottom, the wires tangled into a mass of gnarled roots, sturdy enough to securely anchor the piece. In the crook of the tree nested several small spotlights. The lights illuminated the hundreds of crystal pendants hanging from the branches. Small flecks of rainbow light sparkled throughout the room.

Sam twirled around and launched herself at Spencer, throwing her arms tightly around him. He staggered slightly on impact. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she said, her eyes dancing.

"Glad you like it," he said, leaning down to kiss her. "Welcome home."