Serendipity (Book 2)

Dishes by whispered love 13

FanFiction.net

Dishes by whispered love 13

TV » iCarly
Rated: T
Language: English
Genre: Romance & Hurt/Comfort
Characters: Freddie B., Sam P.
Words: 3,212
Published: Sep 22, 2010

***

It has something to do with dishes. Taking them off the shelves and placing them one by one on the table, filling them up with food, and ultimately putting them away into the sink to clean. Bowls that you poured with your favorite cereal, flat ones that you filled with way too much spaghetti. Where you look at it, and it looks like there is no way in hell that you'll be able to finish it, and then the next everything you just said you wouldn't finish is already invading your stomach. And then ultimately, its time to clean up and restore order in the kitchen by cleaning up the mess. That's the part that I liked best of all. The way the water filled up, warm when a hand brushed by the soon to be dirty water. The suds that sprouted from when you mixed up soap and water, the sweet smell of apples or citrus wafting through the air.

I had a habit of doing them when I was alone. Just me and the dishes getting some alone time while Carly walked into her room after dinner. I told her when I moved in I would do them all the time, to which she didn't object; she didn't want her pretty polished nails to get ruined. So I cleaned up after every dinner, and put everything back into place. Then I would plop down on the couch and grab the bag of potato chips I left that same morning to watch Celebrities Underwater.

I never said I was a clean freak. I just liked doing the dishes. I liked the way the water touched me, the way the soap bubbles would stick to my skin after pulling out a pot from the water. Almost like I was saving it from drowning. But most of all I liked the silence. The whole aspect of being alone, with just my thoughts swirling in my head as the stereo played slow music in the background. Normally, I would keep it on the classical crap because it wouldn't make me mad like rock did. It actually made me relax, and sometimes I could even close my eyes and sway to the music as if I lived alone and no one would even think to bother me. Nothing could touch me. No drama for a whole twenty minutes while I was in the kitchen. No loud noises except for the scraping of plates as I racked them up to dry.

But one day it wasn't the same. I felt it like a breeze too strong for a fragile branch. There was a knock on the door, followed by the swoosh it made by opening it and the sudden closing thud. I turned toward it and expected none other than that dork. Ever since he started dating Carly, it was like he moved in along with me. It's not like he was never here before. But now, it was worse. Much worse in my opinion.

"Hey Sam." Freddie said as he walked in casually.

"Carly's in her room. Get." I said, focusing my attention to the dishes that were soaking away in the sink. He wouldn't move, making me lose my focus and turn to him again. Normally, he would just take the hint and just leave. But he was standing in front of the stairs, not motioning upwards. "What Freddork?" He frowned.

"Come on Sam, aren't we a little old for nicknames?" he said, digging his hands in his pockets, fumbling for his pear phone no doubt. Sure enough, almost as I was thinking it, his hands were messing around with that technological contraption. It's true, we were a little too old for nicknames, being that I was going into my third year of college and he was already thinking of applying to med school. But it was too easy, and these habits are something that I just can't control. I've had them since the sixth grade, stopping me now seemed impossible.

"You still into that whole techno thing. That's why, because you haven't changed a bit." I said, going back to the dishes. He walked into the kitchen, around the same time that I reached inside the water for the dirty spatula. His hands shot up in the air. "No Freddifer. Kitchen is off limits when I do the dishes." I warned him with a look in my eyes that said back off in the nicest but most threatening way possible.