Freddie put his hands behind his head and sighed. It was no use; he wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight. He couldn't stop thinking about Sam and how several hours ago, they both shared their first kiss with each other. Freddie made a face in the dark. Hmph, Sam. Even when she kisses me, she makes my life miserable. Grumbling, Freddie rolled off his bed and shuffled off towards the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and looked for a juice pouch, but couldn't find one. Freddie went back to his room, grabbed some quarters off his dresser, and headed out the door. There was a vending machine over at the end of the hall.

Truth be told, Freddie didn't know how to feel about the kiss. He actually enjoyed it more than he cared to admit, but that wasn't the only thing. He also worried what Sam thought about the kiss. More than that, he worried what Sam thought about him now. And even more than that, he worried what he thought about Sam now.

Freddie shoved his quarters into the coin slot, and tiredly pressed the appropriate code on the keypad. His juice pouch thudded behind the swing-panel. Freddie pushed back the panel and grabbed his pouch. He punched the attached straw into the pouch and took a sip

What if I start liking Sam now? he thought morosely. He found the notion horrible. As if agonizing over Carly wasn't bad enough, agonizing over Sam would be pure torture. Thinking back, Freddie imagined how things would be different if he had had a crush on Sam instead of Carly…

***

Carly and Sam finally reached the door to the Shay's apartment. Carly wasn't very happy about the punishment Mrs. Briggs gave them. She had really wanted to see the Cuddlefish concert, but now she had to sit through talent show auditions for the entire middle school. Sam may have been her best friend, but sometimes Carly really wanted to strangle her.

"Here, I got it," Sam offered, meaning the doorknob. Sam, clutching her water bottle in the crook of her arm, tried to reach for the doorknob with the same arm. Before she could catch it however, her water bottle fell to the floor. The door to the Benson's apartment burst open and Freddie ran out and snatched Sam's water bottle in two seconds flat.

"You dropped this!" Freddie exclaimed, holding up Sam's water bottle. Sam rolled her eyes.

"Fred-wad, were you just looking out your peephole, hoping that I'd come home with Carly." Freddie scoffed.

"No-ho…"

"FREDDIE!" Sam bellowed. Freddie's head lowered.

"Yes." Sam sighed forcefully.

"Look dude, it's just plain creepy when you do that, so cut it out."

"I was gonna walk you home from school, but I didn't see you." Sam took one step towards Freddie, intending to pulverize him, but was restrained by Carly.

"Actually Freddie, there is something you can help us out with," Carly said. "Me and Sam have to record the auditions for the talent show this weekend, and we were wondering if we could borrow some of your AV equipment."

"No problemo Carls." Freddie said. He peered at Sam out of the corner of his eye and winked. "Oh and uh," Freddie pulled out his cell phone. "If you ladies need anything else, you know my digits." Sam gazed at Freddie's phone with disinterest.

"That a new cell?" she muttered. Freddie shoved the phone in her face.

"You can have it!"

"That's it!" Sam smacked Freddie's phone out of his hand, wrestled him to the ground and beat the living daylights out of him.

The next day

"Is Sam coming yet?" Carly sighed. She was tired of saying the same thing to Freddie over and over.

"For the tenth time Freddie, she'll be here any minute." Just as Carly said this, Sam walked into the cafeteria with a Skybucks coffee in hand.

"What goes on peeps?" Sam greeted amiably. She froze when she saw Freddie, or rather the technological monstrosity that he had set up behind him.

"Morning Sam!" Freddie chirped. "How do you like my equipment?"

"Jesus dork, we just needed a camcorder." Grinning, Freddie gestured over to his equipment.

"But Sam, this is my state-of-the-art–"

"Don't care!" Sam said. Carly trudged over to Freddie and placed her hands on his shoulders.

"Freddie," she began in a soothing voice. "Sam will never love you." Freddie shrugged. He picked up a tray from the table behind him and glanced hopefully at Sam.

"I also brought you juice and a bagel!" A dangerous growl rumbled in Sam's throat. She was still sore about yesterday.

"That's it!" Sam smacked the tray out of Freddie's hands, wrestled him to the ground and beat the living daylights out of him.

***

"You know, this might not be so bad. You…me…alone." It took everything in Sam not to scream. She and Freddie got trapped hiding in Ms. Brigg's closet, trying to discover what it was teachers did in their spare time. And of course, sooner or later, the little tech-geek had to try and hit on her.

"Dang it Benson, this is no time to bust a move." Sam heard Freddie punch his leg in frustration. Serves the little dweeb right. We need to focus on getting out of here. I'm starving. Sam dug deep, going into a furious brainstorm. Several minutes of thinking (and Ms. Brigg's nightmarish groans of exertion) had passed when Sam heard crunching. Sam knew that kind of crunching well. It was the kind of crunching someone made when they were eating something. The crunching was coming from inside the closet, and because she wasn't eating anything, it could only mean that–

"Freddie! You found a box of Randy-yo's and ya didn't tell me about it!" Freddie's lovesick expression quickly turned fearful.

"Uh…sorry Sam, I guess I didn't…Sam…? Sam!"

"That's it!" Sam smacked the box of Randy-yo's out of Freddie's hands, wrestled him onto his back and beat the living daylights out of him.

***

"Come on mom, I don't even know if I'm going on this date."

"Oh you're going," Carly and Sam both chimed. Mrs. Benson hovered over her son and gave him a look of the utmost seriousness.

"Freddie, there is a living breathing girl that wants to go out with you. This may never happen again." Mrs. Benson's attention shifted to Sam. Gradually, she changed her position until she now hovered over the blonde. "Unless…Sam here changes her mind." Sam glared up at Mrs. Benson.

"Not in a million years," Sam stated.

"She hates me!" Freddie added cheerfully. Marissa Benson seized Sam by the shirt and screamed in her face:

"Why don't you love my son?!" Sam ripped her shirt free from Mrs. Benson's grasp.

"That's it!" Sam wrestled Mrs. Benson to the ground and beat the living daylights out of her.

***

"Oh yeah, and what are you gonna do about it?" Freddie looked up at the handsome blonde-haired boy and smirked.

"I'm gonna dance." And dance Freddie did. He did his piece, Zeke did his piece, then he did his piece, then Zeke did his piece, until finally, Freddie was doing a little victory dance and the Zeke was rolling backwards in a bucket full of cleaning solution. Freddie waited at the foot of the stairs with his arms outstretched, but several seconds passed and no one came.

"Oh Saaaaaam?!"

"Not even in dreams Fred-dork."

"Sam, this is my dream and you have to do what I say!" A dangerous silence followed.

"Okay Freddie," Sam said through gritted teeth. Grabbing the mop that had been used to defeat Zeke, Sam marched over to Freddie. Freddie frowned.

"What's that for?" he said, pointing at the mop.

"Hold it." Sam said. Freddie did as he was told.

"Now what?" Sam's whole body shook with rage.

"THAT'S IT!" Sam smacked the mop out of Freddie's hand, wrestled him to the ground and beat the living daylights out of him.

***

Freddie curled his lip after the last of the daydreams. There's no way I'm letting myself fall in love with Sam. I'm not tired of living yet. He turned away from the vending machine, spun on his foot, and found himself face-to-face with none other than Samantha Puckett. He and Sam were wearing matching pajamas, only Freddie's were blue and Sam's were pink. Sam looked every bit as worn-out and expressionless as Freddie felt.

"Couldn't sleep?" Sam droned. Freddie shook his head. Slowly, like a robot, Sam extended her hand until it reached Freddie's juice pouch. She pulled the pouch to herself, brought the straw to her lips, took a long sip, and then returned it to Freddie. Strange as it was, Freddie didn't mind. At this point, nothing made sense anymore.

"Wanna go wake up Spencer?" Sam asked. Freddie shrugged.

"I guess." Sam turned around to leave. She only took a few steps however when Freddie stopped her.

"Hey." Sam rotated so that she faced Freddie.

"Yeah?" Freddie stared at Sam for a moment before continuing.

"Suppose that…" Freddie stopped. He was so tired, he could barely speak. "Suppose instead of Carly, I loved you, and that I really came down here in the middle of the night hoping I'd run into you, and that you came down here out of your own free will but realized I came down just to stalk you, and then you noticed that we had on matching pajamas, and this all made you really agitated. What would you do?"

Sam blinked each eye individually, like creaky underused shutters. Freddie waited. He knew it was a long sentence, and he wasn't sure if it had made sense, much less if Sam could interpret it at three in the morning. Freddie's eyebrow rose when he saw Sam staring at his juice pouch.

"I'd probably smack that juice pouch out of your hand, wrestle you to the ground, and then beat the living daylights out of you." Freddie waited to make sure she had finished.

"Anything else?" Sam paused for a second.

"Maybe I'd say something like 'that's it' before doing all of those things." Freddie nodded. Somehow, everything seemed clearer now. He and Sam stared at each other for the longest time until, exhaustedly, Sam dug a hand into her pajama bottoms pocket. She pulled out a small, spherical object.

"Meatball?"

Disclaimer - I do not own iCarly, it characters, nor any other shows, characters, music, and/or movies that may be referenced.