Your Call

Chapter 1

Author: Carla, aka cali-chan
Rating: PG-13, mainly for some language.
Genre: Romance, WaFF, some humor, possibly some drama.
Pairings: Freddie/Sam.
Canon/timeline: Post-series. Hopefully.

Disclaimer: Oh, god. Dear Dan Schneider and folks from Schneider's Bakery: I want you to know that if I get fired from my job for writing fanfiction instead of, you know, working, I'm totally blaming you. You're the ones who created this crazy show that's taken over my brain, after all.

Summary: "Honestly, Sam, if you wanted to hear my voice, you could have just called."

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"Wow. I knew Freddie would miss us, but I didn't think he would start calling just three hours after having left town."

Sam smirked as she took her phone from Carly, who was handing it to her, her eyes a little wide. The phone was vibrating, but no sound was coming out- when had she set it on silent mode? She couldn't remember. The screen was lit up with the words "DORKBOY KING OF THE LOSERS" announcing the caller in block letters, and she could almost hear her brunette best friend's thoughts now: Why was Freddie calling so soon? Did something happen? And if it did, why was he calling Sam? Yes, under normal circumstances, she would find this odd, as well. However... this call, she was expecting.

There was a mischievous glint in her eye as she flipped the phone open and pressed the call button. Carly didn't seem to miss it. "Wiggy Willy's auto repair shop, what can we help you with today?"

"YOU!"

She tried really hard not to burst out in laughter, and ended up letting out a big snort. "Freddiebuns! So good to hear from you, man! It's been ages," she quipped, a chuckle in her tone.

"Don't start with that now!" came her dorky frienemy's agitated voice through the earpiece. "You rigged our car so we'd get a flat! What the hell is wrong with you?" his voice cracked when he said 'wrong,' and she could just picture the veins in his throat were about two seconds away from bursting.

His mother must've commented on his language, because she heard the mumble of a woman's voice (or maybe a far-away screech) and he groaned. "Now, now, Benson," she let out, in a conciliatory tone that somehow ended up sounding much more like a taunt. "Do you have proof of that? 'Cause you know: no body, no crime."

"Yeah, like I don't know you," came his spat, and this time, she had to laugh at the irony.

Really, they should've known. When he'd promised to call even if she didn't want him to, and she told him she was "counting on it"- did they not know her at all? They may not have seen her smirk because they were too busy being all sobby and huggy, but they should have heard the deviousness in her tone. Of course she had something up her sleeve. She always did. So in reality, the whole thing was his own fault for being oblivious. "It's not funny!" he chastised her, and his desperate tone only made her laugh harder. "We're stuck in some abandoned road in Middle of Nowhere, Washington, and the only human contact we've had in the last fifteen minutes was a greasy trucker who honked at us and winked at me!"

She laughed so hard she actually fell off the couch. Carly threw her a look that was halfway between anxious and amused. "I'm serious, Sam!" came Freddie's wail through the telephone. "We're not going to make it to Spokane in time and my Mom is already hyperventilating about delayed schedules!" he muttered in a loud whisper. Probably didn't want Crazy Mama Benson to hear him badmouth her. There was a pause, then he added: "And raccoons. You know how crazy she gets about raccoons."

"You haven't even changed the stupid thing yet?" she asked him as she caught her breath. Man, she wished she'd thought of putting a camera on their roof of their cutesy little U-Haul truck or something; she would pay big bucks to be able to see the expression on his face right then. She hauled herself up, falling back into the couch with an oomph.

"You know Mom thinks it's dangerous to crouch under the-!" He caught himself in time before he humiliated himself any further, instead choosing to end the sentence with a mortified groan. "Why...? Why do you delight in torturing me?"

Because he made it so easy, she thought with a snicker. "Oh, just take a chill pill, will ya? Listen." She propped herself up more comfortably against the pillow she was resting on. She stretched her legs over Carly's lap, as the other girl was sitting at the opposite end of the couch. Carly rolled her eyes and pushed Sam's legs off her lap, still trying to piece together Freddie's problem by hearing only Sam's side of the conversation. "Check your glove compartment. There's a presentation card there, and it's got the phone number of a mechanic. Spencer recommended him; apparently he's a relative of Socko's. Call him; he'll have you guys back on the road in no time."

"A mechanic?" muttered Carly, beginning to put two and two together.

"Oh, and how did you know I was going to need a mechanic?" he asked Sam, gruffly, but with a tone of triumph lingering on the edges of his voice. She heard some shuffling on the other side of the line; she figured he was looking for the card. "Is that a confession?"

"No," she scoffed. They both knew very well that Sam Puckett would never, ever, admit guilt. Especially to Techboy. It went against her very nature. "Let's say I had a... psychic vision," she added, a grin threatening to break out on her lips. Carly laughed; sometimes her best friends' banter tended to move onto ridiculous territory. She would just laugh. It made things easier.

Freddie let out a dry chuckle. "Right. And you couldn't bother to tell me about this so-called vision? Thanks a lot, Puckett." She could almost see him rolling his eyes. "Honestly, Sam, if you wanted to hear my voice, you could have just called." He sounded resigned, but there was also an undertone of teasing. Well, look at that, she thought. The dork was getting over her pranks more quickly lately. Maybe he was finally growing a pair.

She let out a huff. "No way! You two are leaving me behind in this godforsaken place," she stated, sounding determined. She also narrowed her eyes and pointed a finger at Carly, who was a little surprised to be included in the conversation all of a sudden. "So as far as I'm concerned, if you two want to talk to me, then you're the ones who're gonna have to call me," she finished, her tone leaving no room for argument.

She raised an eyebrow at Carly as if marking her words with an interrogation sign. Carly gave her a half-shrug. Asking her was pointless, really, as Sam already knew she could expect about thirteen calls a day from her. She'd switched to the unlimited minutes plan and everything.

"Yeah, whatever," Freddie grumbled, drawing her attention from Carly and back to the call in progress. Something in his voice made her worry he would launch into one of his 'You should've applied to college' mini-rants, but thankfully he didn't. "I'm gonna go call this guy..." He paused for a second. "...Meck?" he asked, sounding a bit bewildered. "Meck the mechanic? Seriously? Man, where does Spencer get these characters..."

She shrugged, even though she knew Freddie wouldn't be able to see it. "I dunno. Ask him."

"Right," he sighed. She heard a clang and assumed he'd closed the glove compartment. "I'm going to call this guy now, before my Mom has a heart attack. You're paying me back for the new tire, by the way," he added quickly, then hurried on before she could offer any kind of retort. "Tell Carly I'll call her when we get to Boston, okay?"

"No, dork, I won't tell Carly you'll call her when you get to Boston," she replied, just to be contrary. She grinned at Carly, who nodded, receiving the message. Sam pulled the phone away from her ear and put it by her mouth, uttering an overly-chirpy "Laters!" with a stretched L, before flipping it closed over the young man's feeble protests. She laughed once more. He just made it too easy.

Carly spoke as she put the phone down. "You rigged their car so they'd get a flat?" she asked, sounding stern. Maybe a little bit amused. But mostly stern.

Sam leaned back against the red pillow, a satisfied smile coming up on her lips as she put her hands behind her head. "Yep," she admitted, not one ounce of shame tingeing her words. As far as she was concerned, that was a job well done right there.

Carly shook her head, the corners of her mouth crinkling up as the amusement finally caught up with her. "You know, I bet you could do really well in auto repair if you ever tried to use your genius for the betterment of humanity," she suggested, not-so-subtly.

She smirked. "Sorry, kid. I belong to the dark side. Better benefit plan."

Carly chuckled, getting up from her seat. "...Yeah, I'm gonna go tell Spencer we're definitely getting to New York by plane. There's popsicles in he fridge if you want any." She waved toward the kitchen as she walked around the couch, on her way upstairs.

Sam just stretched languidly on the Shays' couch. One successful prank, one flustered Fredward Benson... and now popsicles. Oh yeah, good times.

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Author's note: FYI, Meck's full name is Meccus. What? It's a perfectly decent British name... for a low-end mechanic in the middle of Washington. ;)

Anyway, it's my birthday! So I celebrate by posting fic. =3 This'll be a chaptered thing, although it's more like individual vignettes that form a cohesive theme, but still. It should be around 8 or 9 chapters long, plus an interlude somewhere in the middle, and I've already got about about 7 of those written out (which, oddly enough, had never happened before in the whole of my writing experience. How's that for novelty?). Posting should be pretty much uninterrupted; I'm hoping to post about one chapter a week if time allows. This one's the shortest chapter, in case you were wondering. So be sure to tune in for the rest!