Disclaimer: Uh, no. Owning a TV series isn't exactly my cup of tea.

Furious would be an understatement. Livid was the tip of the iceberg. Angry hardly described it. And as I sat there with a blank face, mouth agape, Curly only put her hand on her hip and looked at me with a defensive face. Her voice was innocent, almost accusing. "What?"

"I'm sorry," I snapped at her, unintentionally of course. But when Momma's mad… she's mad. "Can you run that by me one more time?"

"How many times do we have to go over this?" But she knew the answer to this question, even as she asked. "Freddie and Gibby are moving in with us."

Still, this had been only the billionth time Carly has still said this. Yet, I couldn't comprehend what she was saying. "Freddie, maybe I understand. But Gibby!"

"Yeah, he's sweet. And caring. Plus, he can carry his own weight. Spencer already talked to his-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa…" I slowed down, collapsing on our couch. "I didn't even agree to this. It's my apartment, too. Besides, it's only two bedrooms. I highly doubt that Freddork will be head over heels for the idea of bunking with the freak."

"Well…" She said in that tone that made me wince. There was always a catch. Always a catch. I get no break, do I? "…You know his break-up with Tasha has been… Rough-"

"Rough, as in 'dumps the little wiener for a football player and he cries on her doorstep for months,'" I snorted unsympathetically. It wasn't that I didn't like the kid. I did. But he's just so… easy to prey on. Like, would a lion go for the zebra or the other lion? Exactly. Carly shot me a look, telling me to shut up. "Alright. Sorry."

"Like I was saying, it's been really tough on the poor guy and… well… I just don't want him to go to college alone. And especially crammed in a tiny room with Freddie." The last part was shot out weakly, almost as if fabricated.

"You," I pointed at Carly and she widened her big, brown doe eyes, getting up slowly and inching away from me. My blue eyes narrowed at her guilty face, cornering her into our cramped kitchenette. "There's something you're not telling me, is there?"

I patiently waited, allowing her to crack on her own. Moments passed, the only noise was my steady breathing and her frantic gasps. Her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pursed hard, trying to hold back something. I looked down at my shoes, glancing slowly and deathly back up. I saw that thread snap in her pupils, but before I could react, she lunged at me, pinning me to the ground hardwood floor of our apartment. "Okay, okay! You got me! I- I-" Her manicured grip on my purple sweater tightened. I could've reversed the position at any time, but we both knew I would never hurt her. She leaned down in my ear, whispering in a hoarse, scratchy whimper. "I like Gibby. A lot."

"What!" I shrieked, wiggling out from under her. Sloppily, I managed to work my way to my feet, still completely and utterly surprised. Sure, I saw it coming, but that never did stop the traumatizing reaction I had. "You! And Gibby! Since… Since when?"

"Since I had to take him on that date, back in eighth grade. Remember?" She was embarrassed, cradling her stomach and slouching on the kitchen counter. "At the Cheesecake Warehouse?"

"Oh yeah," The resurfacing memories hit me, giving me images of Gibby dancing shirtless on the restaurant table, the stupid dating game show on iCarly I refused to be apart of, and that boy Carly set me up with. "You made me suffer an entire night. With Reuben."

"Sorry," She mumbled into her jeans, wiping her mortified tears on her knees. "But, yeah. It's been four years. And I like a total… a total… a total nub!"

"Wait, if you liked him since then, why did you go out with Shane? Or Griffen? Or-" I was going to say 'Or Freddie,' but decided against it. "Anyway, it's cool. Sorry. I was just… shocked."

"So you're not gonna say I'm a blind loser who finds a tubby boy completely adorable and funny and smart and misunderstood and-"

"Let's stop there," I couldn't stand to listen to such mutiny. Gibby was just Gibby in my eyes. But I decided to make her feel better. "And no, I'm not gonna bash you for who you like," Because if she was in my head when I kissed Freddie all those years ago… Oh, Nellie. I'd still be in an asylum. "I'll just do it with Freddie when you're not around."

I tried to laugh and lighten the mood, but Carly looked up, a desperate look in her eyes. "No! You're the only one who will ever know, you understand?" In a softer tone, it was more of a halfhearted beg or a plea instead of a demand. "Please?"

"Fine." Defeated, I stalked off to my pile of boxes in the corner of our otherwise empty apartment. Carly stayed in the kitchen, fishing out plates and cups that we kept from Seattle. Carly was Disney-obsessed, so everything had Mickey Mouse's face or Tinker Bell on it. The few cabinets we had in there were opened and shut, Carly putting everything in its place. Together, Carly and I were paying each month's rent, but with Freddie and Gibby moving in, providing their own share, that made everything so much easier.

The box I was sifting through was filled with a bunch of iCarly memorabilia. The shirt I traded for those damn concert tickets was in there, since I practically bludgeoned Rip-Off Rodney to get it back. My infamous remote was floating on the top and I picked it up, pressing the top button. But unlike our little high school hobby, it didn't make an audience cheer or a man yell 'R-a-a-a-a-n-n-n-d-d-d-d-o-o-om da-a-a-a-a-n-n-n-n-n-c-c-i-i-i-n-ng!' You could just hear the faint click of the plain, blue remote. "I miss iCarly," I called out to Carly, stirring in all our memories – good and bad. "You know? Maybe we should keep it going, especially since Benson and Gibster are coming down."

"Yeah?" Carly wondered, coming out of the kitchenette, holding two glasses of ice water. I had Donald Duck plastered on my cup, Carly had Cinderella. "I don't know… I'm going to be busy with college… And you're always gonna have meetings, rehearsals, run-throughs… Do we even have time to work hours out of our week to keep up with a silly kids' show?"

"You're right," I hesitantly agreed, drinking my water and tossing the remote on Carly's hot-red leather couch. Carly set our cups down and helped me dig farther into the mountain of boxes. "You know, sometimes I have this… regret…"

"'Bout what?" She asked, unfolding a zebra-print blanket and draping it across the couch.

"Well…" Trailing off, I rearranged the black coffee table to be placed just right between the large TV and the sofa. "This whole… school thing… I mean, not a single person in my family even had the opportunity to go to college. And here I am with a college fund, down the road from UCLA, and I'm blowing it…"

Carly stopped in her place, putting down the picture frames in her hand, and joining me on the couch, wrapping her long arms around my skinny shoulders. "You're not blowing it. You're an amazing musician, a beauty queen, a web-celebrity, a dancer, an actress and a soon-to-be-model! If you believe in yourself as much as me and Freddie and Spencer do, then you'll make it big. But right now, you're young and hot, so use that to your advantage. Worry about school once you're ready to settle down."

"Really?" I looked up at her mature eyes and smiled weakly, turning to hug her completely. "Thanks, Carls. It means a lot to me. But speaking of Freddie, when is that little fruit-sack getting here?"

"Him and Gibby have been driving down from Seattle since yesterday morning, and they're bringing all their stuff, and some furniture. Expect them around noon tomorrow," We both got up, working our way into the back hallway, where two rooms and a compact bathroom were situated. "It's getting late. We'll finish unpacking tomorrow."

I decided against complaining about them coming with me finding out on such short notice. We retreated into our rooms where our luggage was and I pulled out of my jeans and into a pair of Las Vegas boxers. Off came my purple sweater and on went a ratty t-shirt. Freddie's t-shirt. And so help me God, do not ask how I ended up with it. Because I'd lie. Anyway, Carly and I emerged at the exact same moment, standing opposite of each other. She wore a pink tank-top and matching black pajama pants. While she washed her face, I brushed my teeth. It was elbow-to-elbow in our tiny bathroom, but we managed. "So," She started, lathering her face with minty foam. "I haven't seen Freddie in forever. Sheesh, we graduated, then Mrs. Benson suddenly took him to Jersey without even saying goodbye."

"Y-e-oah…" I mumbled through a wall of frothy, cinnamon toothpaste.

"So what do you think he's like now? It's been four whole months, a lot can change…" Carly splashed water, accidently soaking my shirt through. She apologized, running to the living room to grab a towel. While she was gone, I took advantage of the free space and rinsed out my mouth. She came back with a bubblegum pink bath towel. "Here."

"Thanks."

"So what do you think he's like now?" She repeated, taking the end of the towel I was drying myself off with and wiping her clean face.

"I dunno," My voice was flat, almost avoidant. "Didn't care four months ago, don't care now."

She laughed, almost pitifully. "Oh please, don't give me that. But I think they're gonna be taller and have deeper voices and be all muscular."

I rolled my eyes, folding the towel and draping it on the rack on the shower door. "Dude, they hit puberty when we were sixteen. We're eighteen now. Not much will change."

"Well, you never know," She said as she stood in her bedroom doorway. "Anyway, good night. Love you."

"Right," I said, slowly shutting my own door behind me. "Good night, Carls." And there I was, standing in my dark room, a bed with no sheets on it, a pile of messy laundry in one corner, and the white walls bare with nothingness. I yawned, opening my phone to check the time. 1:47. Damn. It was late. And then my phone buzzed, reading: 1 new voicemail.

Putting the phone to my ear, I waited for my message to play. "Hola, Princess Puckett!" Oh great. It's him. "Me and Gibs, here, are on our way down. We just stopped for gas and we're driving through the night. Expect us soon. So, uh, bye."

I shut my phone, flopping on my bed and tossing my phone away, landing God knows where. My laptop found its way to my lap and not taking my chances with disturbing Carly, I plugged in my purple headphones. I did the boring stuff, like updating my Facebook and MySpace pages, but when I got to my e-mail inbox, I froze. From Fredward Benson himself, there was a message. I hesitantly clicked on it.

Hey Shammantha! Gibby is taking his turn driving, so what better is there to do, than to e-mail my best friend? Hah, well, it's getting pretty boring. God, did you know that Gibby doesn't eat meat? So I'm stuck in a car with no bacon, no burgers, and no way out. ): Oy, save me from this rolling death-trap.I caught myself giggling over Freddie's dumb little e-mail. Blushing, I cleared my throat and continued on. Anyway, Sam, remember the last time we went to L.A.? When the Dingo Channel was stealing our ideas? Hah, if only it was like that. You and me were stuck in the back of Spencer's cramped little car, and we spent the whole drive playing checkers on my laptop, coming up with cheesy death threats for the Dingo writers, and eating our weight in canned cheese and fruit cocktail. I missed all that. It was one of the few times you didn't rip me to pieces. Haha.I remembered all that. It was one of the few times I allowed myself to get along with the kid. And my teeth gnawed on my bottom lip when he mentioned he missed it. Well, it's almost time for me to drive, now. So I guess I'll call you (again) and leave you another voicemail. See you… tomorrow, actually. Love, though you don't want to admit it, Fredward-o.

That little… I growled in my head, closing the window and staring at my desktop background. Me and Freddie. At graduation. How 'bout that. He thinks he can always toss that fucking 'L-word' around me, as if no big deal. He acts as if… I mean… I trailed off inside my head, too cluttered with angry thoughts to think clearly. In the picture on my screen, Freddie and I were standing behind trees, smiling wide, clearly laughing in a candid moment. I was keeping his graduation hat away from him, holding him back while he was tugging at my graduation gown. Carly was halfway out of the photo, smiling, mouth open while she was fixing her hair. She was walking away from us, talking to someone else. It looked like your regular, old post-graduation photo, new graduates enjoying their new freedom and hard work. Looking closer, I noticed one of Freddie's strong hands tugging at my black sleeve, and the other one wrapped around my waist. Pulled close to him. How had I not choked him for that? My eyes were half closed, squinting from my laughter, but his eyes were wide and staring straight at me, almost lovingly.

Oh, no… I thought quickly, opening an internet browser again, wanting to get away from that picture. I'm not going to think too hard into a stupid picture. If there's one thing I can't do, I can't fall for this guy. He's… And then I couldn't think of an insult. He wasn't a nerd anymore. After he joined his stupid fencing squad, he started trading his A/V clubs for sports. He wasn't a faggot anymore. To my dismay, he was on a date with a new girl all through senior year. He wasn't a wimp anymore. Due to puberty and a change in his eating habits or something, the guy traded in a thin frame with a full, muscular body. Eck.

Subconsciously, I logged onto iCarly and stared at our home page. What now? Watch videos? Update my blog? Post pictures? Trying to get my wandering mind off of the Freddie subject, I clicked on my blog and read over my goodbye to iCarly. I explained that with Carly and me moving to Los Angeles, there wouldn't be any more weekly iCarly shows. Especially with our tech producer and annoying sidekick (Freddie and Gibby) going to Florida and staying in Seattle. I said that I was trying to make a life in music, modeling, and acting, and instead of a degree, they'd see me on the cover of a magazine some day. Before signing off, I promised I'd make sure that all of us would make silly clips here and there, when we could.

Spencer's said that he's staying in Seattle, just on the verge of making it big with his art, and that Gibby was moving in with him, setting up a life with Tasha. But they broke up – you know the story – and with a humiliating change of plans, he was my new roommate. I actually shuddered. Carly's said that her degree in fashion and merchandising would be the perfect jumpstart for her aspiring line, Live on the Web. Both her and her brother's blog was brief, merely facts, and what was going to be in the future. Of course, they said, they'd miss iCarly. But aside from that, it wasn't much.

Then I clicked on Freddie's blog for the first time in a while. And he had a video posted, titled "iCarly: Through the Years." I clicked 'Play' and turned up my volume. One of Freddie's favorite bands – Led Zeppelin or something old – started playing as a slideshow of pictures flashed by. Each slide lasted only a few seconds, but staring at photos of Freddie seemed like an eternity. And from start to end of the video, I watched all of us grow up. When we hatched the iCarly scheme at the teeny age of thirteen, we were all young and awkward. It was so hilarious to see Freddie when he was the shortest of the group, had that squeaky voice, and wore frumpy polo shirts with those awful black, bulky boots. Gibby wasn't around much when we were that young, so there were hardly any pictures of him. Carly pretty much stayed the same. But at thirteen, her hair was much shorter and her make-up wasn't as dark. And then there was me. Oh God, I was awful. Frizzy blonde curls, sweaters in bright colors, and wearing nothing but shorts I bought from the guys' section at Wal-Mart? Hah, no.

And halfway through Freddie's five-minute video, the progression was much more noticeable. Gibby was a regular at that point, and he was still the same goofy, sorta-cute-if-you-squint-hard-enough guy I knew to this day. But with a deeper voice, a huge stature, and slightly fit upper torso, he was more respected. Carly's hair was much longer, her fashion sense sophisticated slightly, and the childish features lingering in her face were replaced with elegant cheeks and full lips. Carly peaked at Freddie's height, her thin body fitting in nicely with Gibby's jollier, taller self. And for a brief second, the two looked perfect together. I smiled at the idea, but the slideshow wasn't waiting on me. A picture came up with Freddie and me, in bathing suits on the beach. I was burying Freddie in the ground, his lean stomach peeking through the grainy, wet sand. He wore dark aviators with his damp, non-fluffed-up hair covering his forehead, and his black board shorts were riding painfully low on his fit hips… Shut up, Sam! Sure, he's hot. You can think that all you want. But there's no way in hell that you'll accept anything more than that. He's the Carly-loving freak that you've known since Kindergarten, that orgasms at the mention of computers. There is nothing more than that.

And then up popped a silly group shot of Carly, Freddie, Spencer, Gibby, and me at a restaurant, celebrating Spencer's twenty-seventh birthday. Still droning over the previous picture, I backed up the video slightly and paused it on the damned photo. Carly and Gibby were barely visible in the background, Carly in an itsy-bitsy teenie-weenie yellow polka-dot bikini and Gibby shirtless. Of course. They were both munching on ice cream cones, yelling at someone in the distance. Spencer, I remembered, who was provoking a crab. Hesitantly, I allowed myself to study my own face further. I was looking down at Fredward, sitting on my knees and letting sand rain down all over him. I wore a black bathing suit, underneath a ripped-up, baggy purple shirt. My usually blonde hair was darker, due to the saltwater dripping from it. We were smiling broadly at each other, laughing at Freddie's uncomfortable predicament. This picture got the most feedback in iCarly history, everyone commenting how hot we were individually, together, in bathing suits, as a couple, as enemies, you name it. Everyone had something good to say about our bodies, or my and Freddie's rocky relationship. It was awkward and weird for me and Freddie months after we posted the picture, but it was whatever. Good, Sam. 'Whatever' is good. He is a nerd who probably has someone in heaven give God the good word, thus, an unhealthily sexy body. But, you've seen sexier. Right? Hah, yes. So why are you still bitching over Freddie?

Feeling satisfied with myself, I allowed the video to continue. And I watched the photos and small video clips folded seamlessly into one another. Then it was over. A little part in me died, like having to see my saving grace – iCarly – end all over again. So I watched the video again. And again. Then again. And again once more. Each time, I took a few extra seconds to study that stupid picture of me and the dork, rolling around in the sand, smiling under the bright sun, each one with a terrific body. Then it would end, and I would be sitting on my bed alone, staring at the screen of Freddie's blog. Pathetic, sheesh. You should watch the Pain Olympics or something. Be the old Sam again. Indulge in something revolting and morbid. And I then clicked back on my own blog, looking at the comments, each fan excited about my soon-to-be modeling career. Which, in my opinion, would've never gotten off the ground, since I was only five-foot-three and had boobs. Eh, 'twas worth a shot.

The little glowing numbers on the corner of my screen read that it was nearly two o'clock, so I shut the laptop and climbed farther under my blanket. In less than twelve hours, I would be reunited with a person I was too afraid to stop hating. Hah, I better get some sleep, then. My iPod was in my ears – an angsty, skinny-jeans-wearing boy band whining over an acoustic guitar – and I turned up the volume as loud it would go, drifting off in the land of sleep. And, to my disgust, the last thing I was thinking about was the kiss Freddie and I shared on the fire escape all those years ago. To my greater disgust, I actually liked it.

oOo

There was a loud thud, followed by Carly's distant voice. My door shut and I had a headache, but there was no way in hell I was gonna open my eyes. And then I smelled it. Stupid Axe mixed with an innocent scent of fabric softener. "Get up, Puckett and welcome your long lost friend." The voice was humored and slightly threatening.

Oh hell no. "Can it, Benson," My eyes were still closed and an earbud fell out of my left ear. "In all our twelve years together, you know not to wake me up. Not in ninth grade biology. Not on the fourth grade class trip to Oregon. And sure as hell not in Kindergarten during nap time. So walk your little butt out of my room. Now."

"Correction," He said after a moment of silence. I could hear him open boxes and unzip his suitcase. "It's our room. And I don't think you're striking the proper tone to your roommate."

That woke me up. "What. Did. You. Say…?"

"According to Carly and the Gibster, we're sharing a room. So move your crap so I-"

I stood up, with bedhead and anger in my eyes. "We. As in you and me."

"Is that my shirt?" Freddie asked, a stupid smile on his face. Boxes were stacked next to mine, labeled Freddie's Room and Tech/Computer. But Carly was right when she was gabbing how he was gonna be different. He was more muscular, the sculpted leanness showing under his short-sleeve shirt. His voice was still deep, but more… alluring. Oh Jesus, help me now. He stood up, looking me up and down, laughing with his damn cocky grin. I had a new harbored hate for him already. I muttered a 'fuck you' before opening the ajar door all the way.

My shoulders were shaking with rage and my jaw clenched, searching for words. "CARLY!"

Something dropped, and the heavy patter of Carly's feet came running towards me. "What? What's wrong?" Her frantic voice calmed slightly when she saw no one was bleeding or fractured a bone. But it was still early in the day. "Why are you screaming?"

"I wake up only to find out that that-" I motioned to Freddie, who only stepped back and rolled his eyes before cramming his hands in his pockets. "-is my roommate? Why!"

"Well…" Her voice trailed off as she rocked on her heels. "You see, I just thought that Gibby could use a neat and tidy roommate to help him function through his rough break-up… I'm sorry… It was last minute."

"You better be sorry." I narrowed my eyes, and Carly only smiled. She knew I wasn't serious. Gibby was calling for Carly, and his deep voice matched perfectly with my vision of him as a giant. I turned back at Freddie, who had his head dangling to the side, a sarcastic look on his face.

"Look, I'm not thrilled about this either, so-"

"Enough!" I stopped him, holding my hand up. "You're on the couch now. And have a good life."

"There's no way in hell I'll sleep on the couch. Why don't you?" He challenged, forgetting I was there – in underwear and in his article of clothing – and starting to drag his boxes farther into the side opposite to my bed.

"Watch it Freddifer," I snarled, confused on what course of action to take. Although his back was turned, I could picture him rolling his eyes. "And there's no way I'm gonna spend my prime years rotting away on a damn loveseat. So, pack up your shit and haul out."

He dropped some of his stuff back into the boxes and turned around, face blank and voice flat. "Nahhh. Not in the mood. Maybe later."

I hated his attitude. I hated how he left me speechless. I hated his damn sexy body. I hated his nerd-like possessions contaminating my living space. I hated everything about him since I opened my eyes. But… deep down, I liked his feistiness. His edginess. The way his muscles flexed on their own when he shifted the boxes around. I hated everything. I liked everything.

Fuck you, Benson.

Although I was pretty sure I muttered that obscenity in my head, apparently I didn't. Freddie looked back from his focus on his crap, narrowed his eyes slightly, then pursed his lips – pretty lips – into a smile. "I'd love to, but I'm saving myself until after marriage. And unless you're willing to get down on your knee with a diamond ring and propose to me in the chastity of God, you're shit outta luck."

Within a blink of an eye, I was across our gap and pinning him against the white wall. Growling meanly, I looked straight into his… amused eyes. The hell…? And I found myself actually struggling to hold Freddie's arms to his sides. He blew softly in my face and winked. "You done, Princess?"

"Get your shit out of here!" I demanded, and he only countered back. Voices escalated, punches were thrown (me), punches were dodged (Fredson), and in a few heated seconds, Freddie's body was on top of me, pulling me to the cold ground. "Fredward! Get offa me, you bitch!"

"I'll check my agenda, then put in a request for your demand," He tried to coo out smoothly, but I wasn't going down so easily. He was starting to struggle to keep me from scratching or biting. Yanking violently, I managed to wiggled away my arm and use it to pull his head centimeters to mine. His face was flushed – I wasn't sure if it was from fighting me or being embarrassed or whatever – and I only shot dagger straight through his thick skull. "What are you gonna do now?"

"This," I raised an eyebrow before pinching him in the sensitive skin at the top of his spine. He let out a cry, but quickly looked back down at me, starting to sweat and glare back. My turn to be the douche. "I'm sowwy, did that huwrt?"

Two sets of feet were now passing through our doorway, and in the corner of my eye, I saw Carly with a shocked face and Gibby looking huge. Carly studied the situation slowly, looking from me, to Freddie, to me again, then up to Gibby. Freddie and I never moved an inch, too paralyzed with mortification to budge. Carly was the first to form words. "We heard screaming and thumping and we thought maybe you two were just fighting or wrestling-"

"Or having sex." Gibby butted in, causing me to eye Freddie and blush. Deeply. Fuck him and his innuendo. Carly elbowed him, and he muttered an apology.

"-so we decide to check it out. And here we are, looking at you two about to kiss or something!" She wasn't accusing in the slightest, just stating what she saw.

"Sam wishes," Freddie barked, climbing to his feet and helping my limp, embarrassed ass up. I looked at him slightly hatefully and threw a hard blow to his arm. He didn't move, but he winced. "But she's being bitchy and won't share the damn room with me!"

"Because there's no way in hell I'll ever share an enclosed space with you!" I turned to face him, head on. He did the same, looking ready to pounce. Carly ran in between us and pressed her palms against each one of our chests, begging for us to back down. I hesitated for a moment, before relaxing. Freddie did the same.

"What's so wrong with sharing with Freddie?" Gibby asked, stepping in closer to the group.

"Yeah," Freddie chimed in, crossing his arms over his chest. "What's so nauseating about having me as a roommate? I mean, I'm not a slob – I'm cleaner than you! And don't be worried about me 'nerding up' your bachelorette pad," He walked over to his computer box, tipping it so I could see inside. "Just a desktop computer, a stereo system, and a fucking TV. Oh no, how uncouth!" He dramatically threw his hands in the air. "So I have no clue what your problem is."

Neither do I.

Wait, what? You're giving in! Oh, Sam Sam Sam Sam… No… But, eh. It's better to accept than to fight every five seconds. Right? You have better things to do than to bicker with a dork.

"You know what? I'm sorry," The words stung to say, but hey, I had to say them some time. Freddie's eyes widened, almost skeptically, and he tensed. "Unpack your crap. Get settled."

"Wait," He stopped, raising one of his damn eyebrows. "You're giving in?" I nodded. "So easily?" I nodded again. "Well, thanks, then." It was that simple – that easy – and it felt like a red-hot poker in my chest. And watching him go back to his settling in was a blur, since I spun around on my heel and nearly sprinted towards Carly. I tugged her into the bathroom and locked the door behind us.

"What in your right mind made you conceive this train-wreck of an idea?" I hissed quietly, gripping the side of the sink and staring into her guilty eyes.

"Well," And there we went with the 'well's' again. They made me sick. "Remember what I told you about you know who?"

"Gibby?" I clarified, but she threw me against the door and pressed her hand against my mouth.

"Shhh!" Her eyes were scared, and I nodded, then slowly pushed her off of me. "Well… I thought this would be a good opportunity… to, y'know, make a move…"

"Making a move would be considered asking him to dinner or leaning your head against him while watching a movie," I argued bitterly, ignoring the hurt on her face. "But sharing a room with him is the perfect set-up for a late-night hook-up and a broken heart the next day."

Her eyes watered and her lips trembled. Immediately I bit my tongue and wished I could take what I said back. "Right, you're right. I'll move my stuff into your room and help Freddie into the other-"

"Stop," I whispered, pulling her into my arms. "I'm sorry, I was just… spiteful about all this. I found out yesterday about them coming, and this morning with Freddie moving into my room. I was still… in shock. What I said wasn't true. Sort of." I looked into her eyes, pressing her forehead against my own. At least she stopped crying. " Gibby is a fairly decent person and I know he won't fuck you over. Just… promise me you'll be careful with this."

After a small, stirring silence, she managed to choke out an "I promise."

"Good," I smiled and opened the door behind me. We walked into my room where Gibby and Freddie were watching us, confused. "What're you two boneheads looking at?" They averted their gazes, and Gibby slid past me, taking Carly with him. I heard furniture slide and bump around, and everything was back to the way it was when I woke up.

Which left me and Fredward. Wonderful.

"I never really did say hello or welcomed you, did I?" I said after a while, toying with the hem of my shirt. Freddie's shirt. Ugh.

He looked at me, smiling halfway. "Hey, I can't blame you, just your hospitality. Or lack there of."

I laughed, opening my arms and accepting his wide, oncoming hug. "Welcome to Casa del Sam. Er, Casa del Sam 'n Freddie, now, I guess." He laughed into the crown of my head. And my anti-Freddie voice spoke up, but I silenced it, damning it rudely to hell. Slowly, I let my guard down and blinked my eyes shut, enjoying the embrace of his longer-than-necessary hug.

You liked? If you don't, why are you still reading this? If you do, cool. Opinions and comments and questions are all welcomed. I respond to almost everything, so give it a try. I'll be around here somewhere. Flames get printed out and pinned to my bathroom wall. Praise gets made into custom coffee mugs and little 3x5 index cards. (: So put that little 'Review' button to good use and insert your two cents. Please?

See that? I'm resorting to begging. So sad. Anyway, iCarly has been my obsession for a few weeks now and it's only now I got around to posting this little chapter. It's nothing much, but it's a start. The story will be up and rolling by chapter three, at most. I have a plot-ish sequence in my noggin, but for the most part, it's centered around the interactions of the four characters and outside conflict. Blah blah blah, you'll see it when you get there.

Cibby (is that what it's called? Carly/Gibby?) is a more recent shipping I've discovered. It's not considered a favorite, but it's definitely up there. Very sweet, very subtle, very straightforward. Which is good, since, as you can predict, the Seddie crap is gonna be… Eh, complicated. By the way, I mentioned something called 'The Pain Olympics' in the middle of the story somewhere. Listen VERY closely to me, everyone: DO NOT FUCKING WATCH IT. It's just a video of drunk jack-asses cutting off their dicks in attempt to look big and tough. I kid you not. It's raunchy, tacky, and… Ugh. You have been warned.

My Freshman year starts on Monday, so expect updates… whenever. I don't wanna make promises, but I don't wanna leave you hanging. God, it's 4:52 in the morning and I'm watching Elf for the fourth time. I think I'll wrap it up now and leave you to review. I'm serious, though.

Your reviews are the Spencer to my Pak-Rat~

Love, though you don't want to admit it, Sam.