Sam: An In-the-Closet Fangirl.
So like, I totally started doing a fic meme, but then I really didn't work on it at, like, all, and only finished one little drabble-ish thing, which is what's below; a meeting of Sam Puckett and James Diamond. (Because the meme monster said so.)
~~~
Sam has never been the type to fan over boys, over anyone at all. She didn't even freak when she and Carly met Fred, the internet superstar. (Well, she kind of freaked over Tom Higginson, but Carly totally started it.) She knew she wouldn't be affected by meeting that dude from that boy band, that what's-his-face. She knows their songs, had stolen Spencer's credit card to preorder their album. As she stands in line, as her eyes fall on the singer, her breathing gets a little off, and for the first time she feels like screaming along with the other girls in line. She stops thinking, because it's easier, and it keeps her from shouting out like an idiot. It's her turn, and she barely manages a "I'm, um, Sam," before returning to an almost vegetative state. (Vegetation appears to be the only way she can avoid fangirly squee-attacks.)
"Aren't you that internet girl?" The guy's talking, having to yell over the screaming fans.
"Y-yeah." Sam knows she should say something cool, interesting, to show him that oh no, she's not starstruck, just possibly stoned. Because that's cool, right? "I...like ham!" Great job, Puckett. Way to nub it up.
He smiles easily, and Sam just barely quiets her breathing, and it's all kind of ridiculous. "You want a -"
"Ham. I want a ham. No, wait. I don't - well, yes, I want a ham, but I'm not, like, asking you for a ham, I'm asking you for an-"
"Autograph. Right?" His hair is perfect, Sam thinks, and, yes, it's true. He keeps smiling, looking a little arrogant now and with a flourish takes the PopTiger magazine out of Sam's hand. With another flourish, he signs it, like he was born to sign things.
To Sam, the web girl. Sorry I don't have a ham. Love, James Diamond.
~~~
And, so, yeah, that's where that went.