A/N: Hey there people! Didja miss me? Didja? I know it's been ages since I first posted and no, I was not planning on this story having a second chapter, but consider it a big "Thank You!" for all the lovely reviews. Know that I read each and every one and I really can't express my joy at the fact that so many of you took the time to leave comments which you clearly put some thought into. Love you all and I hope you enjoy the second chapter (and yes, this time it actually is the last one). Judging by the promos for iLost My Mind, canon is going to be far more awesome than anything I can come up with, but I enjoyed writing this anyhow.

Carly Shay. The doe eyed brunette with all the pep and neurotic adorability of a cheerleading chipmunk and apparently all the appeal of Helen of Troy given the sheer number of adolescent boys who would likely line up in an endless pheromone sniffing, knuckle dragging queue of desperation to date her. Just the kind of girl that most guys wanted and most girls secretly wanted to stab with a fork. Samantha Puckett was not most girls. She wasn't even somegirls. As such she was the girl that would give anyone permanent nerve damage before they came anywhere near Carly with a fork or any other form of cutlery. She was the girl who couldn't imagine life without Carly of Seattle. Sam put it down to some weird penchant for masochism that she had chosen to befriend Carly instead of some other more unfortunate soul who would perhaps have been kinder on her ego, but there it was. Carly Shay and Sam Puckett. Best friends. Sisters. Soulmates.

Masochism, however, would take on a whole new meaning for Sam when another figure entered their strange, but happy orbit. Fredward Benson. Yet another bright eyed, bushy tailed brunette with all the irritating enthusiasm and more than a striking resemblance to some anthropomorphic rodent from a Dingo movie. Anthropomorphic. A word she had neither heard nor cared to use before she met said rodent. Sweet Lord of Pork, she was starting to think like him. If Carly was the princess then Freddie was the pathetically loyal mouse who would be all too willing to help her make the bed and wash the dishes and sew her a ball gown in the off chance that a kiss from her would turn him into a prince so that they could live nauseatingly ever after. Naturally this only left Sam with the thankless role of evil step-sister who would relish in trapping the mouse in a teapot and feeding him to the cat - also played by her of course. She played her role well. Too well, perhaps, but try as she might - not that she ever tried too hard - she couldn't seem to help it. If she had been honest with herself she would have recognized her own behavior for what it was. A determination to capture and hold his attention, something she succeeded quite magnificently at in fact. Every second he spent in a verbal or physical tug of war with her was another second not spent mooning over Carly. As the seconds piled up, Sam had managed to make herself a larger factor in Freddie's day to day life than Carly had ever been. Not that he realized this of course.

See, that was the sick hilarity of it all. Sam Puckett who had befriended a girl destined to constantly outshine her had managed to do something even worse; fall ridiculously in love with a boy destined to be blinded by that sheen. Life was a cruel, sadistic bitch. Carly, who could have any boy she wanted had the one boy Sam wanted wrapped around her finger and Sam for some inexplicable reason chose to subject herself to being in their company every single day. She couldn't live without them, could barely live with them and couldn't keep herself from being a girly, schmoopy, weak, bitter, sap about it all.

He was no fairy tale prince. Now that was more up Carly's street. No, Freddie was something else entirely. Some strange, heady mix of irritatingly smart, appealingly nerdy, awkwardly charming, disarmingly caring, bizarrely cocky and unknowingly flirty that had completely destroyed the quality of thought that bounced around in Sam's head. She was worried that he was costing her IQ points every day by being so comprehensively attractive to her that it literally caused her physical distress to be in close proximity to him while maintaining the ability to do troublesome things like talk and think. Paradoxically, she actively sought the proximity every chance she got. It was a vicious cycle with no end in sight. Not that she wasn't good at hiding it. She was so good at hiding it that Freddie had spent the better part of last night convinced that she was in love with a guy she barely knew. Well, that was until she gave in to years worth of pent up...whatever it was and made a royal mess of things. A mess she was currently bearing the brunt of.

"Carls, it's cool, I'll go downstairs and get the lemonade. You just – "

"No!" declared Carly emphatically, standing between Sam and the iCarly studio door. "You don't know where it is."

"I've seen your fridge before, you know."

"It's uh...not in the fridge!" said Carly in triumph as though she had just answered a question on Jeopardy. "I hid it. To keep Spencer from finding it and uh...bathing in it."

It wasn't like Sam couldn't get past Carly with ease, but she had never resorted to inflicting harm on Carly and she wasn't about to start now.

"You hid the lemonade," repeated Sam flatly, resisting the urge to laugh and scream at the same time. "So that Spencer doesn't bathe in it?"

"What can I say? My brother's a loon. So, I'll go get the lemonade now which could take me several loooong minutes since I can't remember where I hid it. Who knows, it might take me all day. 'Kay, well, bye!"

With a whoosh of the door Carly was gone faster than Sam thought her capable. Carly was never much one for subtlety and even less for lying convincingly, but this little display was sub par even by her standards.

"You don't have to stay, you know," said the voice Sam was dreading. "It's not like you can't just walk out right now."

Sam reluctantly turned away from the door and towards Freddie who was looking thoroughly disinterested as he tinkered around on his laptop at his nerdy little tech cart. He wasn't looking at Sam making it safe for her to look at him. He was in one of his many striped polo shirts looking unfairly good. You hate stripes, she reminded herself.

"Still not talking, huh?" he added bitterly, his gaze still fixed on the computer which Sam now noticed wasn't even on. "Go ahead. Run. I won't stop you."

Sam let out a bitter laugh of her own.

"Of course you won't."

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked, finally turning to face her and taking a few steps forward.

Too close. He was getting much too close. Sam's heart began to pound around in her chest so hard that she wondered whether he could hear it. He was speaking again, but Sam had heard nothing.

"Huh?"

"I said, you girls are all the same. You think that just because you're beautiful you have the right to jerk people around! Did you even consider the – "

"Sorry, what?"

"Pretending to be deaf isn't getting you out of talking about this."

Sam wasn't big on putting on airs of modesty. She knew what she looked like. She knew she was a not entirely unpleasant looking teenager. Or at least she knew it on days that her vanity allowed her to entertain such thoughts, but she still had to force herself not to laugh at the fact that Freddie had just called her beautiful and didn't even seem to realize it.

"Yeah, well that goes both ways, Benson," she shot back steadily, ever the professional. "It doesn't give you the right to be a jerk either."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, have you looked in a mirror lately? You're not exactly the Hunchback of Notre Dame, so can we skip the woe is you crap?"

"Sorry, what?"

"Now who's pretending to be deaf?" scoffed Sam.

"I heard you, I just – "

"You just what?"

He was smirking. That half-sideways-eyebrow-raising smirk that was always liable to kill her.

"Is that your way of saying you think I'm hot?"

"I never said...I just meant...you're not completely hideous or unappeal – "

"Sam."

"So, I think you're hot. Big whoop. You think I'm hotter."

She crossed her arms defiantly and presented him with a smirk of her own as he stood there sputtering in a way she hadn't seen him do in years. This was good. This she could handle.

"Look, Freddie, I'm sorry, okay? Can we just forget about all this and pretend it never happened so we can go back to normal?"

"Forget what? The fact that you avoided me all day? We shot iCarly with you staring at Gibby the entire time just so you wouldn't have to look at – "

"The kiss, okay!" hissed Sam. "Forget about the stupid kiss."

"Sure thing," he said mirroring her crossed arms and pulling himself up to full height. "Which one?"

"What do you mean which one?"

"It's a simple question, Sam. Which kiss am I supposed to forget? The one at school? Or later at your house? Or the one after that?"

All the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room as Sam stood there gaping at Freddie in disbelief. Her vision started to lose focus as she resisted the urge to keel over onto the floor and let it open up to swallow her whole.

"M-my house? That w-was...that actually happened? I d-didn't just –"

"Very funny, Puckett."

"No. Benson, I'm not kidding," she implored, grabbing him by the collar and shaking him. "All that stuff... at my house, that was real? We actually...in my room...you climbed the tree? Seriously?"

"And we're back to the tree. This is neither the place nor time to make jokes about my mom or – "

"No, you moron! Everything that happened in my room...I thought...I thought..."

"You thought what?" asked Freddie, now sounding genuinely confused.

"I thought it was a dream," said Sam so quietly that she was surprised he heard it.

He stared at her in silence for so long that Sam wondered whether he had heard her. Slowly, his shoulders started to shake and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards.

"Well, that explains some things," he said, not even attempting to contain the laughter.

"Glad I amuse you," snapped Sam, refusing to allow the laughter to catch on.

"This whole time I thought," he began, but whatever he thought was sidelined by more laughter.

"Shut up, you nub!" she whined, hitting him in the arm. "I feel like enough of a nub right now myself. I don't need you adding to it."

This appeared to have the opposite effect as Freddie doubled over with an arm clutched around his stomach now in hysterics. Sam decided that the best approach was to put on her best "I'm bored" expression and wait there tapping her foot until his laughter wore off. Apparently the indifference was an effective approach as Freddie's fit slowly died down and he was upright once more, looking straight at Sam with a smile.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

"It's cool."

Sam froze the minute the words escaped her mouth and judging by the look on his face, the significance of the exchange was not lost on Freddie. His smile vanished and his gaze began to flicker from her eyes down to her lips and back again. It wasn't long before he was leaning , closer, closer, closer...

"Stop!" cried Sam, clamping a hand over Freddie's mouth. "Hold your horses, smoochy."

"Mphhllrgg."

Sam retracted her hand and ducked under his outstretched arm to move into the middle of the studio, putting some much needed distance between them.

"Sam?"

He sounded so genuinely worried and childlike that she had to snuff out the desire to hug him. He began to walk towards her and Sam took several steps backwards.

"Ah, ah, ah! Stay!" she ordered in her best impersonation of a drill sergeant.

"Well, at least you didn't ask me to play dead," offered Freddie, shrugging.

"I mean it, Frednerd. Don't come any closer!"

"Why?"

"Because I can't think. You cloud my judgement. Mama's judgement doesn't need any clouding."

"Sam, come on – "

"Stop that!"

"Now what?"

"That eyebrow thing you do. Just...don't."

"You want me to just stand here?"

"Yes."

With one final roll of his eyes, Freddie planted his feet a little apart from each other for dramatic effect and crossed his arms as he fixed her with what Sam supposed was his version of a withering stare.

"Well?"

"We need to talk about some things."

He didn't reply. He simply tilted his head to one side and raised his eyebrow again. Sam took a deep breath before continuing.

"About Carly – "

"Not this again," he groaned. "I thought we were clear on that subject."

"Not really," said Sam shrugging. "Us getting a little caught up in the moment and you getting a little handsy doesn't exactly clear up anything."

Freddie took a deep breath and bit his lip. Sam assumed he was trying to keep his composure in the face of her less than romantic description of what had transpired the night before.

"I may not know exactly what this is," he said gesturing between them. "But what I do know is that it has nothing to do with Carly. She's not a factor in – "

"Oh please, spare me that chiz. I'm not an idiot, Freddie. This may not be about Carly, but she's always a factor with you."

"If you're talking about the fact that she's one of my best friends then – "

"Wait, did you hear that?" asked Sam cupping a hand behind her ear melodramatically.

"What?"

"The sound of the elephant in the room taking a shower."

"Ha ha. You're hilarious."

"Am I wrong?"

"YES!" he shouted. "She doesn't like me that way. She never has. Never will. I was just bacon, remember?"

"Well, duh, but she's not the one I'm worried about" Sam said quietly. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Tell me with a straight face that you don't still like her that way."

"I..."

"Ding, ding, ding!" said Sam throwing her hands in the air. "We have a winner."

"Sam, that's not fair. This isn't that simple."

"You've spent like five years convincing yourself and anyone nubby enough to listen that you're in love with her. I can't compete with that, okay? I won't."

Sam hated the way her voice cracked and swallowed the painful lump forming in her throat. The worst part of it all was that this was the one moment in the past 24 hours that actually made any sense. It took her a few moments to realize that Freddie was no longer where he was a second ago. He now stood in front of where she was leaning against the prop car with his hands planted on either side of her on the hood of the car.

"You're not competing," he said, catching her gaze, his voice disconcertingly steady.

She almost believed him. Sam let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and dropped her eyes to stare at the space between them. She shook her head.

"This... it's not gonna work."

"But – "

Sam held up a hand to silence him.

"Mama's a catch, Benson," she said with a humorless laugh. "You should be so lucky."

Freddie, not surprisingly, seemed to figure out the effect that his proximity tended to have on her as he stepped even closer than Sam thought possible and looked directly at her as he spoke.

"Sam, you can't...you can't, you know... break up with me before we're even together."

"Well, then I guess it's a good thing we were never together."

Sam congratulated herself for maintaining cognitive function and sidestepped him again, heading for the door.

"So, that's it? I don't get a say in this?"

"That depends," she said with her back turned to him. "You still have that creepy poster of Carly taped up in your closet?"

"No!" he stated emphatically. "Well...yes, but only because it's been there so long that I never got around to - "

"That's what I thought."

Sam was vaguely aware of Freddie calling after her, but she willed herself to block out every sound as she practically hurled herself down the stairs, into the living room, past a bewildered Carly and out the door.

...

These boots were not made for limping, much less walking. Carly was fully aware of that fact when she bought them, but how could a girl resist when faced with outrageously over-priced Italian footwear? It would have been unnatural for her not to buy them. At least that's what she told Spencer when he inquired about the absence of a significant amount of money in his checking account. She was now, as she bypassed walking and attempted running, starting to wonder what the designer of the boots would think of her introducing its supposedly handcrafted sole to his face. Carly had never been much of a fast mover to begin with, so trying to catch up with a five foot, whippet-like blonde whose emotions only seemed to propel her forward even faster was a task hard enough without the excruciating spasms of pain that started at her restricted toes and shot up her calves.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow."

Each stride was punctuated with pain as she mustered the heart from somewhere to put on a burst of speed to corner Sam on the fourth floor landing. Before Sam could make another attempted dash for it, Carly grabbed her by the end of her blonde curls and pulled her back.

"Hair, hair, hair, hair!" screamed Sam attempting to untangle it from Carly's grasp. "Dude."

"Don't 'dude' me! Explain yourself!"

"Explain myself? After what you just pulled? Thanks for the new bald patch. It'll make life super fun."

"Don't try to distract me with your roguish, yet endearing humor!" Carly snapped. "What happened up there? Freddie - "

"Can we please, please just not talk about him right now?"

"No we most certainly can't please, please not talk about him! You're running. Why do you always have to run?"

Sam let out a deep shuddering breath and wrapped her arms around herself in a hug. The question hung in the air like a thick, foul cloud. Carly preferred to think of clouds the way they were meant to be. Soft and fluffy. Soft and fluffy makes frowning a toughie. Fluffy and soft holds spirits aloft. Sometimes Mrs Benson knew what she was talking about.

"He doesn't feel that way about me, okay?" Sam finally offered, her voice seeming to barely hold together. "He doesn't feel that way about anyone who's not you."

"Did he say that?" asked Carly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

"No, but - "

"Did he push you away when you kissed him?"

"No, but - "

"He told me he was at your house last night."

"Yeah, but - "

"He kissed you, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but - "

"And just now in the studio?"

"No - well, he tried, but - "

"Yeah, well given the facts I can totally see how you'd get the impression that he doesn't like you," scoffed Carly. "You're deductive skills are only slightly more awesome than your firm grasp of reason."

Sam said nothing. Her face as irritatingly unreadable as ever. Carly studied the expression - or the apparent lack of one. She made a mental note to rehearse it when she had time in the interest of making lying a lot easier and a lot less filled with amusement from whoever she was trying to lie to. For the moment Carly decided to make full use of the fact that Sam was not feeling conversational.

"You want Freddie," she said, trying to ignore how strange it felt to utter those words to Sam. "That makes a weird sort of sense now. I'm pretty sure you've got Freddie. Even that makes sense. You're pushing him away. That makes no sense."

"I never said I was sensible," Sam mumbled noncommittally.

"Well, isn't that clever and not at all meaningless."

"Carly," Sam began with that "don't push it" tone she used to intimidate people.

"No. No 'Carly'! You're being really unfair to him, Sam. Can you imagine how confusing this is for him? But it doesn't matter because at least he's trying. He's trying so hard and you're just - "

"Figures you'd take his side," spat Sam, avoiding Carly's eyes.

"Stop that!" cried Carly, wondering if she'd develop a bald patch from sheer frustration. "Stop trying to pick a fight with me."

"What do you want me to say?" asked Sam, waving her hands animatedly, now sounding a bit hysterical. "Me and Freddie? Come on Carls, it's insane! It was never gonna work. Not even on Mars. I thought it would be easier if I just - "

"Broke his heart before he had the chance to break yours?" shot back Carly. "Hurt him before her had the chance to hurt you?"

"You make it sound so depressing," said Sam, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, it is depressing. Depressing that you apparently don't know him well enough to know that he would never hurt you. It's Freddie."

"Whatever that means."

"It means that this is the guy who...who brings you bags of bacon and lets you give him wedgies so you can blow off steam and pays for pretty much all your smoothies and...and sacrifices cruises for you and -"

"What are you talking about?" asked Sam, suddenly alert. "What cruise?"

Carly wished she could kick herself right there and then. This was the worst possible time for her innate talent for sidetracking conversations and inadvertently spilling secrets to show up in full force.

"We-ell, Freddie might have sort of won that school at sea thing and maybe kind of gave it to Missy so she'd be out of your hair and you'd be happy," said Carly quickly, barely pausing to take a breath.

Sam looked mildly confused as she stood there apparently trying to piece together what exactly Carly had just said and Carly took the opportunity to continue before she figured it out.

"He cares about you, Sam and it's not like you don't know it, so I don't get what your problem is. He never ran from you. No matter what you did, no matter what you said, nothing was ever enough to make him stay away. What does that tell you?"

"That he tolerated me so he could be around you."

"Really? Really? After all these years that's what you're falling back on? Well, I'm not buying it, Sam. You can stand there and pretend that that's true all you want, but we both know that you're lying to yourself if you think the two of you and the inner workings of your bizarro relationship are down to me."

Silence hung in the air yet again. Carly felt like grabbing Sam and shaking her just to get the message across. Not that she was capable of shaking Sam to much effect, but if a body builder just happened to walk by at that moment, Carly would have paid him any amount of money to grab Sam and shake her around till her clearly malfunctioning brain started working again.

"You know what hurts me, Carly?" asked Sam, leaning forward to emphasize her point. "The nerd just being around gives me a migraine most of the time. Always has. So unless you're willing to kill him for the greater good, drop the subject and get out of my way."

"You're scared," said Carly almost derisively. "You don't even believe a word of anything you've said."

She felt a sick kind of triumph when she saw Sam's eyes widen for a moment.

"Carly. Move."

Sam's tone was eerily calm, and she barely blinked as she waited for Carly to move. She took it as a sign of friendship that Sam had refrained from pushing her down the stairs. She stepped aside and Sam brushed past her immediately without a backward glance. Carly didn't know how long she stood there staring after Sam, but it was long enough for another spasm of pain to shoot up her leg as her feet screamed in protest, trapped inside the shoe shaped torture devices. She dropped down gracelessly onto the floor and attempted to pull the boots off. Maybe she was crazy, but the offensive things actually seemed to get tighter the harder she pulled.

"Perfect. Is going through life without having to consider amputation too much to ask?" she shouted loudly at the ceiling.

Just at that moment the door to apartment 4-B slammed open and an elderly woman stuck her head out. This woman was so ancient that Carly couldn't tell where the wrinkles ended and her face began. Before Carly could register what was happening, the woman had proceeded to whack her repeatedly with what looked like a stuffed raccoon.

"Ow...wait...no, why are you - "

The woman offered no explanation for her behavior and none for her questionable choice of weaponry, but simply continued to attack ferociously until Carly managed to wrestle the raccoon away from her and throw it back into her apartment. Time appeared to stand still as Carly and the woman glared at each other. Well, at the very least Carly imagined that were the woman capable of facial expressions she probably would have been glaring.

"Well played," said the woman cryptically before retreating into her apartment and slamming the door.

It was times like these that made Carly wonder why she ever thought trying to be a good person meant anything in life. By the time she hobbled back in to the loft, her feet were so painful that she could barely even feel them anymore.

"What's wrong with you?" asked Spencer as he emerged from the kitchen.

"Other than the fact that I deserve a normal life, but have this one instead? Nothing. Everything's peachy!" snapped Carly as she fell onto the couch.

Spencer merely shrugged and slumped down next to her as she finally managed to tear her boots off. She had pulled them off with such force that one landed in the kitchen and the other on the dining table. Her feet were a disturbing shade of maroon, but she ignored them for now and turned to Spencer.

"What's up kiddo?"

"Sam and Freddie kissed."

"Again?" exclaimed Spencer sitting up ramrod straight, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline.

"Yeah," said Carly. "And again and again."

"No way! Spill the deets! When? Where? HOW?"

"It doesn't matter. Sam kind of...abandoned ship. She thinks that she and Freddie would never work."

"Awwww, man!" said Spencer collapsing back onto the couch and pouting. "Their kids would have been awesome. Little nerdy blondes with aggression issues and purple bows in their hair to match their purple shoes and cute little purple socks."

"Why purple?" asked Carly feeling not unusually bewildered by her brother.

"What? Nothing. No reason. Pshhh...why, why, why would you even ask such a - why? Why not color police? What are you implying?"

"Spencer, what - "

"I'm gonna go now and do stuff with people," he said quickly and for the second time Carly was treated to the sight of someone running out the front door.

"Why me? Why me?" wailed Carly to no one.

"What's wrong with you?"

Carly turned her head to see Freddie slumping gloomily down the stairs. Why did everyone have to slump today?

"You know, that's the second time someone's asked me that oh-so-caring question today. I'm so lucky to have you guys."

"Uh huh, yeah, no problem, you're welcome" said Freddie distractedly as he sat down in front of the computer at the counter and began to type something into the search box furiously.

She let the furious typing continue for a few more seconds until she couldn't take it anymore and stood up gingerly to wander over to Freddie. She peered at the screen over his shoulder.

"InstaPriest dotcom? Join the clergy at double the price, but half the energy?"

Freddie ignored her and continued to fill in some sort of application form. He then paused and stared at the screen, apparently stuck on the question "Gentlemen prefer blondes. Fact or fiction? Answer in 250 words or less." Carly had seen enough and pushed the power button turning the computer off.

"Hey! What gives?"

"What gives? I'll tell you what gives! My sanity and I'm the last one I know who still seems to have any! Why are you filling in bogus application forms on websites of questionable legality?"

"Well...I called Gibby for advice and he uh...said this was a good way to avoid girls so I thought - OW!"

Carly slapped Freddie right across the face as she had witnessed Sam do many a time. It wasn't tough, but it did leave her palm stinging from the impact. Perhaps she had gone for a little too much judging by Freddie's reaction.

"That's for taking advice on anything from Gibby and because you need to snap out of whatever brain freeze you're currently experiencing."

"Did you have to slap me that hard?"

"Sam does it all the time and you never whine this much."

"Sam and I've had years of practice."

"Speaking of Sam and you - "

"Nope, not happening, Carly. We're not having this conversation. I've gotta get home. Bye," said Freddie, retreating towards the door, but Carly had already made up her mind.

"We either have this conversation now or I can follow you home and have it there. You know, in front of your mother."

That did it. He froze in his tracks and stared at Carly in horror.

"You wouldn't."

"Oh, Freddie. So young. So naive. Of course I would."

Freddie let out his typically Freddie-ish half-groan, half-whine and flounced over to the couch. Yes. Freddie flounced. Like an angry ballerina. Carly resisted the urge to mention it and sat down next to him. She extended her hand to pat his shoulder, but then decided against it resulting in an incredibly awkward movement not dissimilar to bad break dancing. She tried to salvage this moment by punching him even more awkwardly on the shoulder.

"Er...so...Freddie...Freddie-o...Frederick...Frederico -"

"You threatened me with my mom so you could try out versions of my name?"

"Look, I know Sam's being difficult right now, but it's only because she's -"

"Why couldn't you just love me back?" asked Freddie abruptly turning to Carly and giving her a look of pleading.

"What?"

"I had it all worked out in my head. Your constant rejection was just a result of deep denial and the need to mask your intense feelings for me which I would unmask at some point and then we'd get married and we'd move to Texas and run an alpaca farm together far away from my mom. It could've been so beautiful."

"But-"

"But, no. You just couldn't cooperate with the plan. If you had, none of this would have happened. This is all your fault."

"Want me to slap you again?"

This seemed to sober him up and he turned away from her, slumping back into the couch with a noncommittal groan.

"Okay, I wasn't entirely serious, but it's kinda true," he mumbled. "With you, everything's so easy and, and nice, you know? You don't...you don't make me stay up all night trying to think of which type of meat would put you in the best mood on a Monday morning. You don't make me work out so I can lose less badly to you at arm wrestling. You don't make me wanna scream or give me that twitch I get in my left eye or... make me...you know, completely crazy. And, and, and she just does stuff, you know? Who does she think she is? Like, who walks around eating everything in sight and then somehow smells all...flowery? How does she not smell like a meat factory or - or like a walking Fatcake or something? And her hair is really annoying! Always whipping around all over the place. Do you know how many times I've been hit in the face with it? She needs to either shave her head or keep that blonde menace on a leash!"

Carly swallowed a laugh as she listened to Freddie choosing to remain silent until he ran out of momentum. How had she not seen it? How had anyone not seen it? Not for the first time that day, Carly felt like an idiot. There was also that part of her, the childish, I-don't-want-him-but-no-one-else-should-have-him part of her. The part that had always felt a reflexive, knee-jerk pang at the thought of Freddie's heart no longer belonging unequivocally to her. That part of her was now laughing bitterly at the thought that perhaps it had never belonged to her at all. Not in any way that really mattered in the long run. All the guilt she felt for taking his affections for granted and actively using it to her favor now seemed so unnecessary and self involved. Downright narcissistic, really.

"Girls don't like me, Carly," Freddie continued in his best brooding vampire impression.

"You're kidding, right?" said Carly rolling her eyes.

"No, I'm not. They don't. Not the real me. They like Freddie the famous tech stooge or Freddie the lame-pire. Come on, even you needed me to get run over by an oncoming vehicle."

"Yee-eah," said Carly sheepishly. "Sorry about that. But, let me ask you this, have you ever been anything other than the real you around Sam? Have you ever even managed to get away with trying to be someone else without her noticing and insulting you viciously?"

"What's your point?"

"My point is that if there's one person on the planet who has only ever known the real you, it's Sam."

"Yeah? Well, maybe you ought to be giving her this speech. In case you hadn't noticed, she's the one who ran out of here."

This was going nowhere.

"Ugh, what exactly happened up there?" Carly asked gesturing towards the stairs leading up to the studio.

"Well, she asked me about you...how I felt about you and well, I said it wasn't that simple and -"

"Oh, Freddie," groaned Carly. "You know I love you, but you're an idiot."

"For being honest? Because it's true. It's not that simple, okay?"

"So, you still like me?"

"I don't know."

"But you do know you like Sam?"

"No!"

"And yet you two have been kissing up a storm lately," said Carly rolling her eyes.

"Well, I know I don't not like her, but I mean, it's Sam. I don't know. I don't know anything."

Carly stared at him for a few moments before squaring her shoulders and making up her mind.

"Kiss me," she said plainly.

That seemed to have an effect similar to that of a sleeping crocodile being poked with a large stick as Freddie jumped up off the couch and stared down at Carly incredulously.

"W-what?"

"You heard me," said Carly as she stood up and took a few steps towards him.

Freddie moved backwards so fast that he tripped over the coffee table and landed on the floor with a thud. He scrambled up in a flash and backed away into the kitchen as Carly advanced with the most innocent face she could muster under the circumstances. Freddie proceeded to grab chairs from the dining table and place them between himself and Carly.

"B-but, you don't like me like that," he stammered as he continued to back away. "This is a really bad idea."

"Maybe, maybe not," replied Carly impressing herself with how steady her voice sounded. "You said it's not that simple and this is one way to find out."

"But...but..."

"But what? Come on, Freddie, it's not like we haven't done it before."

"Y-yeah, but we can't..."

They had stopped moving and stood a good five feet apart with two chairs separating them. Freddie looked so wide-eyed that it was a wonder his eyes were still in their sockets.

"Consider it a social experiment," said Carly cheerfully.

"No! I can't."

Bingo. Carly wondered how much slower the boy brain operated relative to the girl brain that Freddie hadn't yet seen through what she was trying to do.

"Ah ha! And why not?"

"Because...because...we're just friends...and friends don't kiss... and have I mentioned that Sam's gotten really good at it? Kissing, I mean. Has she been practicing or something because she... " he stopped short mid-ramble, stopped gesturing wildly and his eyes snapped to Carly in apparent realization of what he had just said. "Oh my God."

"I knew you'd get there eventually," said Carly breathing an inward sigh of relief.

Freddie made no response. He looked stunned as he stood rooted to the spot with his mouth opening and closing like Spencer's many dead goldfish. After several moments of that, he began to pace furiously from side to side. He eventually ran out of steam with that and stood wobbling precariously with a hand on a chair to steady himself.

"I need to sit down," he said as he collapsed drunkenly into the chair, but he jumped right back up a second later. "I think I'm gonna stand. Standing is good. Water. Would you like some water? I'm gonna get water. Water is good."

He wandered over to the fridge, opened the freezer and stuck his head in. Carly was about to go pull him out when Spencer waltzed casually through the door sipping noisily on a smoothie. He said nothing as he stood next to Carly and she continued to watch Freddie. The only sound was the gurgling of Spencer sucking up the dregs of his smoothie.

"So," said Spencer after almost a minute of silence and sipping. "Why's Freddie in our freezer?"

"Oh, he's having an epiphany slash delayed freak-out," replied Carly.

"Oh. Cool," said Spencer with a giggle. "See what I did there? Cool? Because you know, he's in the freezer and - never mind."

\\

Sam wriggled around contentedly as she tried to get as comfortable as possible. She always knew the beds in heaven were made of Fatcakes, but to actually be able to sleep on one of these babies was, well, heavenly. Just as her eyes began to droop she felt the bed begin to shake violently. She groaned. She hated earthquakes. Especially when they happened in heaven. This was stupid. It didn't make any sense. The shaking got progressively more violent.

"SAM!"

"Whuh? Who happened? What died?"

"Sam, wake up, it's me."

After the initial blurring, Carly's face came into view. She was leaning over the couch where Sam lay haphazardly, still barely awake. Sam mustered the energy to drag herself into a sitting position and yawned loudly as Carly sat down next to her. A loud crack of thunder echoed around the Shay living room. Sam turned to peer at the window. It looked miserable outside.

"When did you get here?" asked Carly quietly.

"An hour ago? Two? Guess I fell asleep waiting for you. How was school?"

"You'd know if you had actually turned up."

"Meh."

"You can't just skip school forever, you know," said Carly in that tone of hers that never failed to make Sam feel like she killed a puppy.

"Sure I can," replied Sam.

"Whatever, I don't want to argue anymore, just...I'm sorry if I was being too pushy yesterday. I only - "

"Want me to be happy," finished Sam. "I know, kid. And I'm sorry for considering pushing you down the stairs."

"So, we're okay?"

"Always were," said Sam with a smile as she reached over to give Carly a sleepy, one-armed hug.

"Have you talked to - "

"Not since yesterday," replied Sam. "Is he -"

"He's still at school trying to finish the project with Brad," said Carly almost sadly.

Not talking to Freddie was very high on Sam's priority list, so really, what choice did she have? Of course she had to ditch school. Predictably, the part of her that desperately wanted to see him had to be crushed at all costs almost every second. She missed him. She hadn't seen the nub for one stupid day and she missed him. It was a level of pathetic that she had never hoped to achieve. Her train of thought was rudely interrupted by the most unpleasant noise she had ever heard. It sounded like a drowning animal of some sort and it kept getting progressively louder.

"What the horrifying is that?"

Her question was soon answered as Spencer descended the stairs playing - well, the term "playing" was hardly appropriate - a set of bagpipes. Gibby walked down after him with his hands clutched over his ears. Carly and Sam followed Gibby's lead and waited for the sonic torture to stop.

"How awesome was that?" asked Spencer enthusiastically, jiggling the bagpipes with a huge grin on his face.

"Oh...I'm not sure 'awesome' is the word I'd use," said Carly delicately.

"What she means to say is that you're horrible," said Sam, not quite so delicately.

"Sam!" reprimanded Carly.

"What? If we tell him he's good then he might start playing again and I don't think our eardrums could survive another hit like that."

"That is so mean," said Spencer looking momentarily dejected.

"Why are you playing the bagpipes anyway?" asked Carly.

"Do I need a reason?"

"Why is Gibby here?" asked Sam.

Spencer turned to look at Gibby as though just noticing his presence before turning to Carly who shrugged.

"Yeah, we're not sure."

Gibby let out an indignant huff.

"I need a reason to be here, but you don't need a reason to violate 50 noise pollution laws."

"Gibby!" snapped Spencer, but Gibby was apparently distracted by something behind Carly and Sam.

"Uh, guys," he said, lifting a hand to point at the front door.

Sam, Carly and Spencer turned to the door in unison. Sam wasn't expecting to see Freddie standing there. She definitely wasn't expecting to see him standing there drenched from head to toe clutching what looked like a soggy bouquet of flowers in one hand and a pile of...something in the other. He was breathing heavily and looked almost angry as he stood there dripping and a small puddle of water began to form around his feet. Carly let out a shriek.

"Oh my God, Freddie!" she cried before bolting into the bathroom and emerging seconds later with a towel. "You're going to die of pneumonia."

She then threw the towel over Freddie's head and proceeded to dry it rather violently among his loud protests. Freddie's wacko of a mother would've been proud.

"Carly, stop! I'm fine...I...can...do.. that...myself. Car-leee! STOP!"

This had the desired effect as Carly stopped her attack and backed away from him looking slightly offended at his outburst. Freddie's hair was now somewhat appealingly messy.

"Sorry," Freddie added quickly. "I just really need to talk to Sam."

At this pronouncement, Carly, Spencer and Gibby turned almost mechanically to stare at Sam with expressions ranging from curiosity to Gibby-ness to delight. With Freddie looking right at her as well, Sam felt like she was having that dream about accidentally leaving her house naked, but one glance down at herself confirmed her fear that she was in fact fully clothed and all of this was actually happening. Sam glanced at Carly, who looked at Freddie, who refused to stop staring at Sam, who tried her luck looking at Gibby, who was exchanging shrugs with Spencer. This ridiculous cycle continued for several moments before Carly got that determined look on her face that only meant one thing. She was going to meddle.

"Spencer, Gibby, I need to talk to you guys upstairs," she said, approaching Spencer and attempting to lead him up the stairs by hand.

"But, I wanna -"

"Upstairs. Now."

"Oh sure, nobody wants the Gibster around until it's time to go upstairs."

"Gibby!"

Spencer and Gibby followed Carly reluctantly as Sam tried not to analyze Gibby's sentence. Once they were out of sight, Sam had no choice but to turn back to Freddie, forcing herself to meet his eyes.

"Why are you all...wet?" she asked, cringing at the question as soon as the words left her.

"It's raining outside."

"Yeah, I noticed, but -"

"I left my umbrella at school," he stated flatly as though that explained everything.

"So?"

"So, getting here from school in the rain without an umbrella can get you wet."

It was Sam's turn to gape at him.

"You walked here from school? In the rain?"

"Ran, actually," he replied, still refusing to break eye contact. "Almost took out an old lady. And a hobo. He had a cat, too."

Sam had no idea how to respond to that. She chose to maintain her silence until Freddie decided to say something. It didn't take long.

"You weren't at school today. Why?"

"Because I hate school."

"You always hate school. That's never stopped you from turning up before."

"What are you a cop?" snapped Sam. "I didn't feel like going today, okay?"

"I don't believe you."

"Well, believe it."

"You're impossible, you know that?" he started. "And rude and violent and lazy and can put away more food than my Uncle Rufus. He's enormous."

"Keep up that sweet talk and I just might have to throw myself at you," she deadpanned.

Freddie had no visible reaction to this and simply continued as though Sam had never said anything.

"And you're strong and funny and smart and..." he paused for a few seconds, peered at Sam with his eyes narrowed and the corner of his mouth quirked upwards as he continued. "And hot. And I don't understand it sometimes. It doesn't make sense how all of that could be in a person who weighs 90 pounds, and maybe it took me a while, but it doesn't matter because I do understand us. It's actually one of the things about my life that makes complete sense and I didn't even see it because I'm an idiot. We work. I don't know how, but we do and I want us to keep working because here's the thing...I like you. That way. That stupid dorky way that makes me stay up all night writing this speech and practicing it in my mirror while worrying about how you could use it to blackmail me at some point."

Sam felt strangely numb. Somewhere in her mind his words were beginning to register, but that was only secondary to the fact that she couldn't move. Or speak. Or form any sort of coherent thought. Freddie didn't appear perturbed as he simply threw what he was holding in one hand at her feet. It hit the floor with a splat and Sam seemed to at least gain some level of motor function as she looked down at it. Upon closer inspection she realized that it was a soggy pile of colorful paper. Still unable to say anything, she merely looked at Freddie, confused.

"Remember that creepy poster of Carly had taped up in my closet?" he asked and Sam nodded. "Well, there it is. I thought shredding it was a good way to go, though I'm not sure how Principal Franklin's going to react when he finds out I broke his shredder. Oh and these were on his desk. I thought you might like them."

He threw the bouquet of flowers to Sam. They were roses. She was about to ask Freddie why he would ever think of her as a flowers kind of girl when she caught a whiff of their scent. It was a smell she knew better than any other and she gazed up at Freddie in astonishment.

"You got me bacon roses?"

Freddie shrugged casually.

"Well, technically I stole them, but hey I figured there's no way Principal Franklin would appreciate the beauty of cured meat in floral form as much as you would."

"You...you broke into Principal Franklin's office to shred a poster and then stole his bacon for me?"

Freddie did the smirky-eyebrow-raisey thing. He wasn't playing fair.

"How?" was all Sam could muster.

"I picked the lock. I've watched you do it enough. Though I had to talk the lunch lady into lending me her hair pin which wasn't exactly -"

Sam had heard enough. Whatever Freddie was going to say about his run in with the lunch lady's hair accessories was turned into and "oomph" as Sam essentially tackled him, throwing her arms around his neck. He took a couple of steps back to steady himself before wrapping his arms around her waist. She was balanced on the tips of her toes, hugging him so tightly that her arms felt like they may well detach themselves from her body, but nothing was as important as the need to be as close to him as she could possibly get. For his part, Freddie was cutting off blood circulation to her midriff with how tightly he clutched her waist and his head was bent down, buried in her hair. Sam made a note to kick herself later for trying to run from something that could feel as good as this. She didn't know how long they stood there like that, but it wasn't nearly long enough before they were interrupted by a loud shriek, followed by several thuds. She reluctantly detached herself from Freddie and turned to see Carly, Spencer and Gibby lying in a tangled pile at the bottom of the stairs.

"I told you to stay behind me!"

"Oh, come on! You know I have the balance of a toddler on a sugar high."

"That was awesome! Let's do it again!"

"Gibby!"

Sam interrupted the pile of bickering people by clearing her throat loudly. Carly, Spencer and Gibby stopped talking and simultaneously gazed up at Sam and Freddie. They had untangled themselves, but stayed on the floor.

"We weren't...you know...eavesdropping or anything," said Carly.

"Yeah, we were," added Gibby, looking at Carly like she was unhinged.

"Okay, fine, we were."

"Totally called it," said Spencer pointing at Sam and Freddie and tapping himself on the temple with a finger. "Nothing gets by ol' Spency."

Carly finally stood up and enveloped Sam and Freddie in a bone crushing hug of her own and let out a squeal at a pitch that would probably gather all the dogs in the neighborhood.

"Wait a minute," said Spencer, looking at Sam as though he had just realized something. "I thought you had a crush on me!"

"It never would've worked between us," said Sam sighing dramatically. "I had to move on."

"I'm not comfortable with this conversation," added Carly.

"Yeah, please stop," said Freddie looking mildly nauseated. "That's my girlfriend you're talking to."

"Girlfriend?" asked Sam, turning to Freddie with exaggeratedly raised eyebrows. "Who said anything about me being your girlfriend?"

"Well, you didn't say, but...I mean, I thought we were...but if you don't...then why did we..."

Apparently Sam Pucket, wicked step-sister extraordinaire was losing her mojo of diabolical evil because she couldn't let Freddie squirm for much longer than that and laughed before silencing him with a kiss. Who needed Prince Charming anyway?

A/N: I was torn about using "Carlotta" as Carly's name and originally I did use it in the opening line of the first paragraph, but though Sam has called her "Carlotta" in iQuit iCarly, it was never confirmed as to whether or not that's really her name, so I stuck with Carly.

Bacon roses do in fact exist. Thank you Tumblr for alerting me to their existence.

It might surprise you to know that I'm actually not a huge fan of Carly/Freddie in any capacity. I know the PC thing is to say "I don't ship them romantically, but I love their friendship!" I'd be lying if I said that because even on a friendship level, the dynamic falls flat for me on screen. Just a personal preference thing where the chemistry doesn't quite gel for me. So imagine my shock when I ended up writing something that was as Carly/Freddie friendship heavy as this chapter, haha. I don't even know why I'm telling you guys this, but there you have it.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed it. :)