Chapter Text
It felt like the river had finally dried up for the dry season as Sam opened her eyes against the darkened room of Carly’s new apartment.
Water, she croaked silently as she slid herself out from the comforts of the pink cover Carly had made sure she’d use when she arrived for the holidays.
Squinting toward the humongous window, her gaze drifted to the clock on the wall—almost 10 o’clock in the evening. Too early to wake Carly up before Christmas, she noted. She probably didn’t need to for another hour, knowing how ditzy the brunette would be in making sure their Christmas plans wouldn’t be a disaster—not that she hadn’t been preparing for it the entire past week.
Slowly, Sam peeled herself from the bed and tiptoed out of the room, praying she wouldn’t wake Carly.
The entire apartment was quiet, stripped of its usual chatter and laughter, as Sam made her way downstairs. Not bothering to turn on the lights, she navigated the dark room blindly, feeling her way toward the fridge to fetch herself some water.
She was gulping down one chiz of a glass when she finally noticed the soft glow coming from the next room.
Forgetting the pitcher, she padded toward the light’s source—and found the biggest Christmas tree standing in the corner of the living room, completely adorned with all sorts of stuff Carly had bought over the past months (and yes, Sam remembered every hour-long phone rant about each one).
Sam’s eyes widened in shock.
The Christmas tree was so obnoxiously perfect it could’ve been on the cover of Try-Hard Holiday Monthly. Carly had clearly gone full elf-mode on it as every branch stuffed with ornaments so colorful it looked like a rainbow had exploded and decided to stay. Reds, greens, sparkles, tiny shiny doodads—there wasn’t a single empty spot left. Even the star on top looked like it was striking a freaking pose.
And the gifts? There were so many that Sam was pretty sure the bottom half of the tree was standing on pure holiday pressure. Boxes stacked like a mini skyscraper city, bows poofing out everywhere, wrapping paper so neat it honestly made her want to rip it enthusiastically.
But the room—oh, the room looked like someone had chugged a gallon of Christmas spirit and then projectile-decorated everything in sight. Garland draped dramatically from the ceiling fan. Lights wrapped around the windows so tight the whole place blinked like it was sending a cry for the fire department. She snickered. Chiz Spencer. Tinsel hung off the TV, the chairs, even the random plant Spencer swore was “part of his artistic vision.”
And then she saw the socks. Their stockings were lined up on the wall like some weird festive roster: hers, Freddie’s, and Carly’s all side by side; Spencer’s giant, paint-splattered monster of a sock; Marisa’s extra clean white with a touch of red bland sock; Melanie’s prim-and-proper matching pair; Gibby’s stretched-out unit that had definitely seen things; and Guppy’s tiny adorable one that made Sam scowl at how cute it was.
It was excessive. It was loud. It was every level of holiday overkill.
And somehow, standing there, Sam felt herself grin. Give it to Carly to plan a holiday and the girl would always deliver.
“Getting excited to open the presents?” a voice from behind her said.
Scoffing, Sam set the empty glass of water on the coffee table and sank into the comforts of the deep maroon settee, her shoulders melting into the backrest.
“I’m not the one who forgot about buying someone gifts, nub.” She retorted, emphasizing gifts with an s—she had never been the girl who deserved just one.
“Who? Me? I’ve got all my presents down there.”
Sam looked at him when she felt the dip of the cushion beside her. Warmth radiated from his side almost immediately, and she didn’t even bother rushing upstairs to grab something to drape over herself.
With narrowed eyes, she lightly kicked his dangling feet.
“What was that for?”
“That’s for forgetting to buy me some gifts.” She smirked as his hand wrapped around her foot to keep her from kicking him again.
His brows knit together. “You think I forgot to buy you gifts?”
She pointed at the pile. “I checked before we went upstairs and there was no ‘Sam from Freddie’ there. So, you better start explaining, Fredpus, before I give you a list of how you’re spending the rest of your time tomorrow to make up for being a forgetful nub.”
Freddie laughed, shaking his head. “You are ridiculous.”
“I can’t hear you explaining, Fredwad.”
He sighed, then gently guided her feet onto his lap. Sam watched as he settled in comfortably.
“I didn’t forget,” he said. “I know you’d sniff around my gifts—which I was right about.” He shot her a triumphant look. “So I hid them in my trunk.”
She blinked. “Well… that seems fair.” Damn it. He really did know she’d snoop.
“Hey, so—”
“You’re not getting them before Christmas, Sam.” He grinned.
“You’re no fun, Benson.” She withdrew her feet briefly, stretching her body across the settee.
“I’m actually craving a smoothie right now,” Freddie thought aloud after a comfortable silence settled between them.
Sam kept her eyes on the blinking Christmas lights.
“Oh, yeah, I heard T-Bo got himself a new holiday flavor,” she offered, still mesmerized by the tiny bulbs illuminating the room.
“Nah, I actually miss blueberry splatz.” Sam felt him draw tiny circles on her foot.
“You know what? I kinda miss strawberry splatz too.”
“Do you want to go together tomorrow?”
“Your treat?”
“When is it not?”
“Touche.”
“So… it’s a date?”
Her lips curved as she kicked him again. “You and your mushiness, nub. Shut up,” she said, laughing.
Freddie grinned. “I missed you, Puckett.”
Sam could only grin back.