Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly

Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly.

I knocked on her door. It was exactly noon, and she had invited me over for lunch. Normally I would've walked right in. But Sam had a nasty bug and if she was with Carly, there was no way in Seattle I'd be going in there. That would just put my mom on overload.

She came to the door, letting me in. I sat at the counter, eyeing the page Carly had left up on the computer. I only caught a glimpse though, the sudden burst of fire from the stove made me jump back. She held onto my arm, watching Spenser try to extinguish it.

"Let's go upstairs." She pressed the button for the elevator with great force. We waited a minute for it to come. She pressed the button again, and repeated to press it, still with no results. I grabbed her hand, forcing her to stop.

"How about we take the stairs?" I gestured with my free hand. She agreed and we climbed the stairs, slowly. Neither of us knew why we weren't going faster, it just sort of happened. We reached the top, hands still conjoined. I loosened my grip and her hand fell limp.

Entering the iCarly studio, we leaned against the hood of the car. An alarm went off as we both leaned back, making me jump for the second time today. "Did somebody put jumping beans in your pants today?" she asked, obviously enjoying my jumpiness. Her laugh was soft and sweet like her. I'd jump a million times just to hear it again.

"I forgot that I had hooked that up for the next iCarly." I smiled sheepishly, taking mental photographs of her. Her hair was distraught from her sudden leap, her cheeks pink with laughter. The room grew silent as she noticed where my gaze had moved to. I blinked back into reality.

Sighing, she blinked back. "Wanna play a game Freddie?" There was a slight twinkle in her eye, one you could see only if you could see into her soul. That had taken months of practice. But for some reason, I agreed.

She pulled a paper out from her back pocket, unfolding it. She smoothed it out against her leg and handed it to me. Pulling out another paper, she repeated the process, keeping the paper to herself this time. Her eyes scanned the room, looking for something. "What'cha looking for?" I rocked back and forth on my heels as her hair flew around like a murder of crows. I stopped rocking when she accidently hit me with her long locks, taking a deep breath. Lime and coconut. Finally, she found what she was looking for a picked it up. She handed one to me, again keeping the other for her.

"All you have to do is write down your 50 most favorite things. Then we switch papers and read 'em." She sat down on the floor, bent over her paper. She began to scribble something down.

"That's it?" Absently nodding, she continued to write. I gave in and sat down behind her, my back pressed against hers. Every groove of our spines seemed to match up, a perfect fit. Her hand had felt the same way too as we climbed the stairs, but that was probably just my wanting. Fate never played on my team, why should it start now?

30 items in, my hand began to cramp. I dropped my pencil, stretching my hand. I pushed my shoulders back, feeling relief through my body. Now comfortable, I leaned back to my previous position. The sound of her pencil scratching against the floor stopped and shortly after as she readjusted her posture to fit my back again.

I wanted to put something really daring and out there for number 50. I thought for a while, hitting the pencil against my forehead. Finally it occurred to me. I scrawled something down and folded the paper back up, neatly into a small square. I turned around to see Carly just finishing up.

A grin spread across my face, thinking of her reaction to number 50. As if something suddenly hit her, she flung forward, back towards the ground. She wrote something and folded her paper up, the same way I had done mine. She swiveled around, joining the soles of her shoes to mine.

We held our answers in the palms of our hands, each tentatively reaching for the other. I let my palm gently slide onto hers, slipping the sheet out of her grasp. She took mine, smoothing out the creases from the folds. I carefully opened the note, having the irrational thought that if I tore it, I would tear her fragile heart. Then again, maybe it's the intoxicating coconut and lime talking to me. I can still smell it.

Number 48: Shoreline sand beneath your feet.

Number 49: decapitating a gummy bear

Number 50: Your smile...

My smile!? I studied her handwriting closely, wanting to prove myself wrong. I like her Fate, remember? She doesn't like me! Then why did you put your number 50? Fate quizzes me, obviously using my own self against me. I expect her eyes to be bulging at the list, ready to pop out. But surprisingly, they were cheerful, more than usual. She leaned over to my ear.

She let loose a giggle, one that sent shivers throughout my body. Well that was new. Of course then again, Carly never had flirted with me before. That was what she was doing, right? I relaxed as her giggle gave me a full body massage, tingles shooting down my arms and legs. Oh how I love number 50.

She started rubbing my arm, noticing the goosebumps I had gotten. I bet she is just loving my reactions, getting a kick out of my list. See? Now she is moving away. Wait, that's not away. Has this treatment messed with my judgment on distance? If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was getting closer.

Her nose hit mine, her eyes digging the way to my soul. The look came to her eye. She had finally done it. I knew she did. Carly Shay had finally seen my soul. And I'm pretty sure she liked it. Girls don't kiss boys when they don't like it. Girls don't close their eyes and throw logic out the window when they don't like it. Girls will walk away, when they don't like it.

She stepped back, admiring her work. I knew there was a perfect chance that the stupidest lopsided grin was on my face. She had one to match it, but nothing could top mine. I thought of the answers on my list.

Number 47: Watching the sparks of a campfire fly.

Number 48: Fighting with balloon swords.

Number 49: Listening to a fortune cookie.

Last night for supper we had Chinese. Don't despair; your ideal lover is waiting for you around the corner. She wrapped my arms around herself, her back against my stomach. Well little fortune cookie, maybe she's closer than the corner. Maybe she's right in my arms.

I unraveled her, putting an arm around her shoulder. "Groovy smoothie? My treat." I bent down to pick up our papers, stuffing them in my back pocket. Then I pressed the button for the elevator. It didn't come. Oh yeah, it's broken. We walked down the stairs, holding hands like before. This time I knew that Fate was on my side. It wasn't just my wanting, but hers too.

Arriving in the kitchen, Spenser gave me a nod. The nod of approval. He trusted me with his sister, and that meant a lot. He took a bite of his cheese bagel, smiling at the look on Carly's face. She switched her hold on me, fingers now intertwining with mine.

"Can we go to Groovy smoothie?" She swung our hands back and forth, Spenser giving a thumbs up. Just as the door started to close, he called me back. I let go of Carly, telling her I'd meet her downstairs.

He finished his bagel, swallowing it all in one swift motion. "Whatever you're doing, keep on doing it. You make her happier than anyone I know."

"Wow Spenser, that was really deep." I finger my back pocket, shoving the reminder of my love farther down so I wont lose it. So I wont lose her.

"Thanks. Now I'm going to go have fun with Mr. Squeakers and some bubble bath!" He walked towards the bathroom and I shut the door behind me. As I ran to catch up with Carly there was only one thing on my mind.

Number 50: The way you laugh.

Finally! I've been wanting to write that for like, hours! I hope you enjoyed it. Please review.