A/N: This fic has some innuendo and touching, but nothing too bad. Or at least I don't think it's too bad.

"Smooth Moves"

by: the archduke

"Sam I'm making dinner. Since you've already told me that you're spending the night, would you rather I finish with dinner or stop to help you with your hair?"

Carly could see Sam thinking through her dilemma. Weighing her options of a faster meal or untangled hair. Carly knew she had her answer when Sam glanced at the kitchen island, with the uncooked porkchops marinating in herbs and spices taking center stage, and then turned away from Carly while calling Spencer's name.

Carly continued with dinner but couldn't help listening while Spencer told Sam that he was too busy with a sculpture to help her with her hair. Carly guessed that Spencer remembered the last time he had tried to help Sam detangle her hair; he still swears his elbow doesn't bend quite right anymore.

There was just one more person in the apartment that Sam could turn to, and Carly stopped chopping the vegetables in case she had to prevent Sam from doing major damage to Freddie. She was a bit surprised when Sam merely sat cross legged on the floor in front of Freddie, who was on the sofa. There was no ordering or bullying, only Sam dropping her hairbrush in Freddie's lap and turning towards the television without a word.

"And what exactly am I supposed to do with this?" he asked while he held the brush in front of Sam's face.

"Pretend I'm one of the dolls your mother made you play with when you were a kid. Just be gentle, I have a very sensitive scalp."

"You've got to be kidding me. I'm not going near that rat's nest you call hair. Next time wear a hat when it's windy."

"I'll give you fruit." Carly thought that was a pretty weak bribe since the bowl of fruit had been sitting on the table in front of Freddie for the last two hours, until Sam finished with "And I'll give you back your laptop."

Freddie thought that his laptop had been stolen out of his car while the three of them had been at the mall. It probably had been, just by Sam.

"You are an evil, evil person." But nonetheless, Freddie started to slowly brush her hair and was rewarded with a piece of melon held to his mouth while Sam continued to watch television.

As Carly started chopping vegetables again, Spencer sidled up beside her and grabbed a piece of carrot off the cutting board.

"Fingers!" she admonished, while Spencer nodded over to the couch.

"He does know she has a sensitive scalp, right?" Spencer gave his elbow a little rub.

Before Carly could respond, they heard Sam yelling.

"That was the last grape! Give it back!"

Sam had turned around and was on her knees facing Freddie while she held out her hand for the grape. Freddie must have been feeling particularly bold that evening. He held the grape between this front teeth, gave Sam a grin, and then popped it back into his mouth and started to chew.

"No, give it!" Sam cried as she got to her feet and tried to squeeze the half-chewed grape out of Freddie's mouth with her right hand. Freddie yelped as Sam's nails dug into his cheeks. He spat the grape into her palm and massaged his face as she put the grape into her own mouth.

"Watch your claws. They almost pierced my cheek."

"Why do you think I grow them out? These suckers are tons useful." She then ran her fingernails down Freddie's thighs to his knees, using just enough pressure to make him wince.

Sam sat back down in her previous position and flung the brush back to Freddie. He stared at the back of Sam's head for a few seconds, gave the front of his trousers an absentminded adjustment, then picked the brush back up and continued with the work of detangling Sam's hair.

Carly and Spencer stood at the breakfast nook with identical looks of confusion on their faces.

"Um, ew," Carly said. "Is it just me or was that weirder than usual."

"It was not just you, little sister," Spencer responded.

A/N 2: Does anyone else have trouble writing for Sam? I have no idea what that girl would say, so I tried to keep her end of the dialogue to a minimum.