April 17th, 2007.

"Like I care, Benson."

"I just wanted to give you this for your thirteenth birthday."

"Yeah, I can tell! You wrote it on the stupid envelope."

"Come on, Sam. I'm trying to be nice."
"I don't need your niceness, nub, so don't try anymore!"

"What's going on in here? Sam, let Freddie in!"

"Ah, come on, Carly, it's my party…"

"Yeah, and it's my friend. Just enter, Freddie…"

April 17th, 2011.

I was still holding it, in my right hand. The birthday card I wrote for her thirteenth birthday. Can't believe she kept it. I thought she hated me back then. I still remember the struggling I went through writing it. I had to say something positive. I knew a lot of options back then, even though she was my biggest enemy and I didn't knew her that long, I still knew a lot of her good qualities. I knew, for example, from the first day on that she was one hell of a funny girl. Much funnier than the girl I was in love with; Carly.

And she impressed me with her always-original insults and the dominance she ejected.

But the thing that bothered me was that I wasn't sure about writing something nice about her back then. Maybe she would punch me or insult me. I was afraid she wouldn't give me a chance to be a friend to her. So, I just wrote this;

Sam,

Happy birthday,

Like I wrote on the envelope, I just wanted to give you something for your birthday.

Freddie.

Just as I was finished reading my own written words on the old birthday card I gave her, she came in. The thirteen-year-old Sam that was still plastered on my retinas, made me notice that she'd changed a lot. In a good way, of course. The seventeen-year-old Sam became a beautiful young woman.

"What are you doing in here? The party is downstairs, Fredward," she said while her eyes met mine.

"Yeah, I just needed a break. There's so much noise down there and I'm already having a real bad headache," I answered, rubbing the back of my head.

"So… now you're searching through my old stuff?" She assumed as soon as she saw the old birthday card in my hands.

"Well… I can't believe you still got this. I assumed you would have burned it or something," I chuckled.

"Nope, I did that with the one you gave me for my fourteenth birthday, remember?"

April 18th, 2008.

"Sam… I warn you!"

"What? It's just a piece of paper, nub."

"Why would you wanna burn it? It's a freakin' birthday card."

"So?"

"You haven't even read it yet!"

"If it's like the one you gave me last year, there's nothing special on it that I want to read."

"I… But… Then fine. Burn it. If that makes you happy."

"Yeah it would. It's like seeing your face burn."

"I don't get it Sam. What have I ever done to you?"

"Nothing, nub. Giving me these stupid birthday cards…"

"No… Sam… You aren't gonna burn that seriously, are you? Sam? SAM!"

April 17th, 2011.

"Yeah… I never told you, but I did write something special on it."

"You did?" She asked, taking one step closer to me. I could smell the perfume she was wearing now.

"Yep. I wrote down that I really considered you as a friend and stuff…"

It could have been me, but I saw the look in her eyes change a little. Like a look of regret or something. A look I didn't see that often on her face.

"Well, you can't prove it anymore, Benson. It's gone."

"Yeah it is… But how are you enjoying your party?"

"It's awesome, Freddie! You should really go down stairs. I know you like to party. Screw your headache!"

She grabbed both of my arms and shook them roughly. I couldn't help but laugh.

"I'm not in the party-animal mood right now, Sam."

I grabbed both of her hands and placed them off my shoulders.

"Well, then… do a speech or something. Like you did on my fifteenth birthday!"

April 17th, 2009.

"Freddie, you're up!" Carly said after she was done with her speech to Sam.

"Alright, I've got a few words to say about Sam…"

"Better watch it, Freddifer."

"I just wanna say… Sam… Even though you constantly cause me both physical and emotional pain, I think of you and me as really close friends."

"Apparently I haven't caused him enough emotional pain!"
"Sam, you're funny, you're cool and you're the only girl I've seen who knocked out a truck driver using only a carton of milk. So, happy birthday you crazy psychopath!"

April 17th, 2011.

"Don't look at me like that, Sam. You know I can't handle those big puppy-eyes of yours…"

"I don't have puppy-eyes!" she cried, slapping my arm playfully.

"Oh yes, you do," I disagreed.

"Well, is it working?" she asked with a high voice, imitating a little girl.

"Yes it is, but before we join the party, I need to give you something," I tried to sound as serious as I could be. This time I really wanted her to read it. It was the most important thing I've written in my life. She never really read my birthday cards. So, I tried something new this year. A birthday letter. There wasn't enough space on a card anyway.

"Then give it to me, Fredward Benson! You're making me curious."

She made me laugh. I liked the fact that she needed something from me. I liked the fact that she wanted something from me. But what I liked more was that she wanted me. I figured that out after two weeks of waiting after the lock-in. And I described my feelings perfectly in this letter I was giving to her right now.

"Okay, here you go."

I grabbed something out of my pocket. A simple envelop, filled with a basic A4-sheet. But it wasn't about what the envelope was filled with. In the end, it was about the A4-sheet and the words it was filled with.

I didn't try hard to decorate it or something. It wasn't meant to be fancy or decorative.

She softly picked the envelop out of my hands and opened it right away. She looked at me as she pulled the letter out of the envelope.

"Should… should I read it, like, right now?" She asked me, hardly above a whisper.

I nodded in response.

"Oh… okay."

She looked at me a little longer before she let her eyes fall on the letter in her hands. Her eyes were just made up like last year. Just a soft, natural touch of dark blue eye-shadow and strawberry lip-gloss. But it was all that she needed to look absolutely stunning. In fact, she didn't need any make-up to look beautiful…

April 17th, 2010.

"So… what do you think, nub?"

"I think you look…"

"Ridiculous? Tell Carly, she picked out the stupid dress…"

"No! I mean… the dress is just perfect."

"You're just saying that because Carly picked it out for me, don't you?"

"No, Sam. I'm serious. You look beautiful."

"Oh… Well. Thanks, I guess..."

"You're welcome…"

April 17th, 2011.

I saw her eyes glide over the words slowly. But at one of the last lines, which I knew she would read again, her eyes stuck. A line which was filled with three simple words.

I stepped a little closer to her, knowing that she must be very confused by now.

Finally, her eyes locked with mine. And like I expected, her eyes were leaking her confusion in the form of tears.

"I… You… Me?" she struggled with trying to find the right words. But her eyes and especially her tears said enough.

"Yes. You and me," I replied, not bothering to suppress the big grin that grew wider upon my face.

She began chuckling.

"Are… are you sure?" She snatched her gaze off mine and settled it on the ground.

"I'm pretty damn sure, Sam."

She looked back at me again. Just now, I noticed I stepped a few steps closer to her. Close enough to lean in and give her a soft, chaste kiss.

As I pulled back, I whispered in her ear:

"Happy birthday, love."

Thanks for reading! Just a simple one shot I wrote this weekend.

I do not own iCarly!

loveee