iDon't Hate You

A Seddie one-shot

Sam loved him. Henry Samuel Jones. He even had 'Sam' in his name. And he loved her. He was seventeen to her fifteen and he was just perfect. The fact that he was one of the few boys Sam knew who didn't drop her the minute he laid eyes on Carly was a major bonus too. They'd been dating for three weeks, and it was kind of a secret. He had guest starred on iCarly – he could tie knots one-handed and blindfolded – and after the show he had offered her a ride home. In the car, he told her he really liked her and wanted to date her, but that he wanted it to be just the two of them for awhile, with nobody else knowing. So they spent a lot of time going to movies in one of the suburbs where nobody knew them, and kissing in the cab of his pickup.

Freddie hated him. Henry Samuel Jones. After the show, Henry had beckoned to Freddie, and Freddie – who was curious what this nub would want with him – followed him into the Shays' kitchen, where he had to put up with the nub asking him if he was "dating the cute blonde or the hot brunette, 'cause if not, he'd take 'em". Sam had accepted his ride home that night, and more than once Freddie had seen her catch herself just before she said Henry's full name. Freddie refused to call him by the name he called himself. 'Henry Samuel Jones' – it sounded like a serial killer. He had tried to warn Sam that the nub was just playing with her, but she had slugged him in the arm and told him that she and HSJ were just friends. But she blushed while she said it so he knew the nub was more to her than that.

Carly thought that they should have a 'best-of -2010' episode of iCarly. She wanted to bring back all the best guest stars – Nora didn't count because she was a psychopath – of the year for a reunion show with all of them on the show at the same time. Sam thought this was a great idea, and kept remembering one Henry Samuel Jones by name, while being unable to remember any of the rest of the guest stars for the year. Freddie thought it was a bad idea, but he didn't push it because the girls were so excited. Spencer said it was fine, as long as they didn't force-feed him salsa while he wore a baby bonnet.

The show was a roaring success. More hits on the web site than ever before. It was so successful that everyone – except Freddie, who kept his mouth shut – decided to do an encore presentation after a break with spaghetti tacos and Peppy Cola. There were people everywhere – Carly and Freddie and Sam and Spencer, and Gibby and Guppy and Tasha, and Henry and the other guest stars. Freddie went into the kitchen to grab another drink, where he saw Henry huddled in a corner with Carly, nuzzling her neck and Carly eating it up. He stopped in his tracks, so Sam – right behind him – ran into him. "What's going on, Freddork?" she said, peering around him. "Oh. I see." And she took off as fast as she could up the stairs.

Freddie followed, but he couldn't move as fast as she could when she wanted to, and he was also trying to act normal; no sense in everyone following them up. When he got to the studio, it was empty, but one of the beanbag chairs – Sam's favorite – was missing. He thought for a minute… and then he went to the fire escape. It was his private spot, but he knew that Sam used it occasionally too.

When he got there, he saw that she was in fact lying in the beanbag chair, facing the city view. There were tears tricking from the corners of her eyes. She was very still and he cleared his throat, unsure if she had heard him come out. She had.

"Whaddya want, Freddie? To say, 'I told you so'?" (Oh, man… not only had she not used one of her insulting little nicknames, her voice sounded so flat, like it was almost too much effort to speak.)

"No, Sam. I came to see if you're okay." (When did his voice get so deep? Why does he sound like he actually gives a chizz how I feel?) "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying really really hard not to hate Carly." (Voice still sounding dead)

"She can't help it."

"I know. That's why I'm trying hard not to hate her. It would be easy, you know. To hate her for all the guys who have liked me – or said they did – and gone to her the minute she so much as gave them the time of day. I mean, I'm not ugly. (No, you're so not. At least you sound less apathetic now… angry is more like the Sam I know). I'm no Carly, but I'm not an ugly cow or anything."

"Sam, not all guys are like that."

"Nope," she laughed bitterly, "only the guys I know. Name one – besides Spencer, who's her brother, or Gibby, who has someone even hotter than Carly – who wants me once he sees her!"

"Me," he said simply.

She paused. Then she said, in a tiny voice, "What did you say?"

"Me," he repeated, "It took a long time, Sam, because Carly is very pretty and sweet. But that's kind of all she is. You're much more complicated, and I like that. I mean, if you wanted me to do something, and I didn't want to, what would you do?"

She sat up and looked at him for the first time since he came out. She said, slowly and with unusual seriousness, "I don't know, Freddie. It would depend on what I wanted you to do, and how important to me it was, and whether you were really reluctant to do it or just arguing for fun."

"And what would Carly do?"

"She'd say, "Please Freddie, for me?" and you'd probably do it."

"I might. But that's beside the point here, Sam. The difference is that Carly is totally predictable and everything is right out there and that gets boring after awhile. You are so sweet under the tough-girl shell, you're gorgeous and bright and complicated and weird and wonderful and… can I kiss you?"

"What?"

"Can I kiss you?" (Is he moving closer to me? Oh God, he is!)

"Yes."

And he kissed her. And she kissed him back. And oh, it was like the first time, the time months ago, but they were older now, and that made all the difference in the world. And when they broke the kiss, Sam smiled at him and said, "Freddie? I don't hate you." Freddie smiled back, hugged her tight, and murmured in her ear, "I don't hate you too."