Hello, everyone! In honor of the new episode tonight (an episode I probably won't get to see for months unless some very kind person decides to upload it) I've decided to post a story that's been sitting on my computer since iOMG first aired and before the plot of iLMM was revealed. This happens directly after iOMG (I've left out the last two lines of the episode - don't kill me) and went from there. I do not read fic while writing fic (to avoid subconciously 'borrowing' anything) so any resemblance to another story is purely concidental and unfortunate.

I do not own iCarly or any of its characters. Dan Schneider and Co. do an amazing job but sometimes I do like to borrow them and have them bend to my will. All in good fun, no offense intended.

Special thanks to BlackShadowKat for betaing and giving me the courage to post a story. She's awesome :)

Constructive critisism is always welcome. Thanks for reading!

Sam opened her eyes when she realized Freddie wasn't kissing her back (hell, he wasn't even touching her, just standing there like she was Medusa and he was her latest statue) and she pulled away slowly, feeling like the biggest idiot in the world. She was the biggest idiot in the world. For a second there she'd fooled herself into believing he was talking about them, not her and Brad – forgotten she wasn't raven-haired and perfect and sweet. The look he was giving her, an agonizing mix of shock and surprise and what was probably disgust, quickly (painfully) reminded her she wasn't. Well hello, Earth – how nice to crash back into you like this.

Stunned beyond the capacity for rational thought the best Freddie could come up with was, "I, uh..."

"Are you done?" Sam covered condescendingly, her voice as steady as she could make it.

¿Qué? "Am I done?" Freddie looked at her like she was a two-headed frog, resisting the urge to run his fingers over his lips. "You kissed me!"

Even with her chest feeling like it was being crushed in a vice Sam could lie like a champ. "It was the only way I could think to get you to shut up about my feelings for Brad." If she had to let Freddie think she was in love with the intern to get out of this mess then so be it...

So now she did have feelings for Brad? Freddie's confusion doubled, and was joined by something he refused to acknowledge for the time being. Raising an eyebrow he scoffed, "How do you manage to make something you did my fault?"

"It is your fault." She shrugged unapologetically. "If you'd just left me alone like I asked I wouldn't have had to." That part was true at least. And if she stuck around she'd probably say or do something else she'd regret. Like cry in front of him.

Freddie grabbed her arm to keep her from leaving – they weren't done. Well, he wasn't, anyway.

Sam was in the process of removing his hand when she froze, stomach clenching painfully, at the sight of Carly through the window. Apparently the universe felt her humiliation wouldn't be complete unless witnessed by her best friend/ nemesis. "Sorry – I didn't know we had an audience." Her voice wavered a little but he didn't seem to notice. Yup – Carly was definitely around.

Following the direction of Sam's tilted head he saw Carly standing there, her face practically pressed up against the glass. Crap. He wasn't supposed to be in the barn.

Panic filled his eyes (like she'd known it would) and Sam had to blink the tears from her own. Such an idiot. She put on a blank expression before waving at Carly to join them.

Carly shuffled outside, trying to act like she totally hadn't been spying. "So…" she started innocently, swinging her arms at her sides, "What's up?"

Sam took advantage of Freddie's distraction and shook him off, meeting the brunette at the door. "He didn't kiss me, I kissed him." Pointing at each of them in turn she warned, deadly serious, "And you both need to drop this 'Brad' thing."

"Sam…"

"I said drop it, Benson." All of it. She stared him down, then walked back into the school without another word.

"Okay!" Carly huffed as soon as the door had closed behind the blonde, "What the heck was that?"

Freddie watched Sam as she disappeared down the hall and around the corner. "I was hoping you could tell me..." He wasn't buying Sam's act for a second but the only other explanation he could come up with required hell having frozen over.

Sam growled in frustration when the hair pin failed to produce the desired result. It wasn't possible – she'd never met a lock she couldn't pick – and she refused to believe it had anything to do with how badly her hands were shaking. Lock-In or not, she was getting the hell out of Dodge.

"Problem?" Freddie teased, leaning against the wall beside her.

Two, now. "I thought Franklin was kidding when he said he 'Puckett-proofed' the exits," she grumbled without looking at him. Stupid Lock-In. Stupid MoodFace. Stupid Puckett-proofing.

He didn't know what was more amusing: the death glare she was giving the inanimate object or the fact that said inanimate object was thwarting her best (and usually effective) efforts. And apparently had been for a while; he'd been searching for her for an hour. Well, the better part of an hour – he'd spent the first bit of it getting rid of Carly then debating whether or not he was going crazy.

Sam gave the lock one last try and when that didn't work sat on the floor to start rummaging through her backpack.

Freddie watched her silently, trying to figure out what to say as she emptied her bag's contents one by one: wire-cutters, sketchpad, theoretical physics textbook, two metal coat hangers, pencil case, wrench, notebook, section of mesh screen, rope, bag of red licorice, and a doorknob. "That's quite the Magic Satchel you've got there," he joked, crouching down to covertly pick up the sketchpad.

She snatched the pad out of his hand and stuffed it back into her bag. "Go away, Freddie." If it were a Magic Satchel it would still have her bolt-cutters, which it didn't, and none of what it did have was useful (why oh why had she taken out the bolt-cutters?). Pulling her mom's credit card from her back pocket she slid it between the door and the frame in a last futile attempt.

While she had her back to him Freddie moved the wire-cutters, wrench, and hangers out of her reach. He could probably live with the damage the other items could do. "Sam, we need to talk."

Sam got up and looked around the hallway. Grabbing a trash-can, she hurled it at the window in the door and watched with narrowed eyes as it bounced off with an unsatisfying ping. Stupid transparent polycarbonate whatever.

Freddie had to throw himself sideways to dodge the ricochet. "Hey!"

"I told you to go away," she said harshly, her eye already searching for, and landing on, her next projectile.

She was either defending her actions or repeating her command; his money was on the latter. "Sam, can you stop for a minute?"

She tried to pick up the bench only to find it bolted to the ground. "Crud on a cracker!" Was the entire world against her? If she didn't get out of there soon she was going to totally lose it.

Okay, the snarling was probably not a good sign. "Sam…"

Bending down to scoop up the wrench she waved it around and advised him, "You might want to get out of the way…"

Freddie stood his ground between her and the door. "No – if you're gonna throw it then it'll have to be at me." It wasn't really the outcome he wanted but she'd been given her 'final' warning 3 warnings ago; if she wrecked school property Franklin would have no choice but to expel her, Principal's Pet or not.

Sam scowled menacingly. "You really don't want to test me, Benson."

"You can either talk to me or throw it at me," Freddie recapped, "Those are your options." She usually responded better when he stood up to her; he hoped this was one of those times, 'cause if it wasn't he was in some serious trouble.

Who the hell did he think he was? "You're not the boss of me!" she hissed. "Move."

He didn't point out the hypocrisy of her statement. "No."

Mother Puss Bucket. Shoving him roughly out of the way Sam walked up to the window to hit it directly; she had a lot of inner rage going on so maybe she could kill 2 birds with one wrench.

Freddie rushed up behind her, grabbing her wrist before she could make contact. "Sam, please…" He tried to lower her arm but she refused to budge.

"Let go." Sam was having a hard enough time controlling her emotions – if she didn't have another outlet she was going to hit him.

"I can't." He couldn't let her get expelled because of him. Or Brad. Or whatever this was about.

"Let go, Freddie, or I swear the envelope's gonna say 'Miss Puckett with the Wrench in the Hallway.'" The words were growled from deep in the back of her throat, and she choked down the sob that was attempting to follow them.

Ignoring the murderous implications he promised, "I'll let go when you put the wrench down." That was step one. Step two was getting her to stick around long enough to let him explain.

Sam closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Fine."

Freddie sighed in relief when she brought their arms down, relief fast turning to exasperation when she brought them to rest over his foot. Rolling his eyes he changed positions so she didn't have a target. "Just drop it, Sam."

"Ugh!" She wouldn't really have done it, though she was glad he thought she would have. God, she missed the days when she could hurt him (really hurt him) without rhyme, reason, or remorse. You know, before he'd made her all soft and girly and weak. Dropping the wrench to the floor with a loud clang she growled, "Let. Go."

True to his word Freddie released her hand, albeit hesitantly.

Running would only make him more suspicious so Sam just crossed her arms irately over her chest, her back still to him. "Say what you have to say so I can leave." Now that he and Carly were out of the courtyard she could go back and scale the wall.

Surprised he hadn't had to hog-tie her into submission (and relieved – she would not be happy if he used something she'd taught him against her), Freddie stuffed his hands in his jeans so he couldn't give in to the temptation to touch her. "You just surprised me, okay?"

Yeah, the 'deer in the headlights of a Mack truck' impression was a dead give-away on that one. Voice cold, she muttered, "That was the point, remember?" As long as she stuck to her story she wouldn't have to add 'mortified' to 'heartbroken.' "Can I go now?"

She was asking permission? If her desperation to get out of the school hadn't been a big enough clue she was seriously upset now Freddie had no doubt. He still wasn't absolutely sure why, though, so he decided to do a little fishing. "Look, I'm sorry about all the Brad chiz; I only got involved because Carly…"

"God forbid you say 'no' to Carly," Sam cut him off, trying (and failing) to keep the bitterness out of her voice, "the world might end or something." She focused her gaze on the lawn beyond the building, wishing she were out there instead.

Freddie studied her reflection in the window. If he didn't know her so well he'd have missed the barely clenched jaw and the glazed eyes. He finished his sentence emphatically, "…because Carly said Brad would be good for you."

"Well, that's a relief," Sam said sarcastically, "I was so worried you wouldn't approve." Of course he'd approve – when the four of them went out he could pretend they were double-dating.

Her face was impassive when she turned around, making Freddie wonder if he hadn't imagined the whole thing. God forbid she give him something to work with. "Sam…"

"We're done here." She didn't know what his game was but she was in no mood to play along.

Freddie advanced, watching her eyes widen, then narrow, as she backed into the door to avoid contact. He stopped half a foot away and steeled his nerves. If he could tell her to put her feelings out there (and maybe she had) then he needed to do the same. "I just wanted you to be happy, Sam." His hands clenched in his pockets as he confessed, "Even if it wasn't with me."

Sam's breath caught in her throat and her eyes narrowed. She wanted to believe what he was suggesting, more than anything, but the thought that this was overdue payback for 'Gullible Freddie' kept running through her head. "This isn't funny, Nub."

"I'm not kidding, Sam." Freeing a hand to brush back her hair, he whispered, "Now, if I knew I had the option of trying…"

She needed to leave, to run, but his eyes were locked onto hers and she couldn't bring herself to move. "If you're trying to prove your stupid app works…"

Freddie put his thumb to her lips to silence her. "It isn't about the app." If it weren't for the program they wouldn't be standing there (mental note to buy Brad a smoothie), but it wasn't the reason he was. "I keep all your little hate letters – what does that tell you?" He'd even kept the text she'd sent him in response to the whole I loathe you/I love you 'mix-up.'

Sam gave him a skeptical eyebrow, ignoring the feel of his fingers on her skin. "That you have mental issues?" Being off psychologically was hereditary, right? He was bound to have something, stalking tendencies notwithstanding. Or was letter-hoarding in itself a form of stalking?

He couldn't help but grin – here he was trying to tell her he loved her and she managed to be insulting and purposely obtuse at the same time. "Who's being funny now?"

What was left of Sam's defenses crumbled. Still, before she committed to anything she had to ask: "What about Carly?"

Freddie made a fierce face, joking, "I'll fight her for you if I have to." When Sam's expression became guarded again he realized it wasn't their friendships she was worried about. He was such an idiot. "Sam…"

"Just forget it." The evasion told her just about all she needed to know. She side-stepped him and bent to start putting the stuff back in her bag.

She was pulling away, physically and emotionally, and Freddie didn't know what to say to stop it without being disingenuous. Carly was his best friend (one of them) and his first crush – if he said she meant nothing to him he'd be lying. And Sam would know it. "This isn't about Carly..."

"I've been her best friend for 9 years, Freddie." She swallowed the lump in her throat to scoff up at him, "Everything is about Carly." Always had been.

Her voice was tinged with resentment and sadness, and suddenly Freddie knew why he hadn't known he had the option. Crouching beside her he put his hand on her arm and promised, "My feelings for you have nothing to do with Carly."

"Maybe not," Sam allowed, moving so his hand fell away, "but if Carly decided she wanted you back I know you'd go running." She could accept forever being in the brunette's shadow but she couldn't handle that.

Freddie was hurt she had so little faith in him but couldn't really fault her for it: the first three years they'd known each other he'd pursued Carly like a rabid dog, the last two he'd found it hard to completely break old habits. "I can't erase the last 5 years, Sam. I wouldn't, even if I could."

"Good. Great!" She zipped up her bag and stood, slinging it over her shoulder. "Muchos gracias!" He sure knew how to win a girl over.

Standing with her, Freddie grabbed her arm and wordlessly dragged her down the hallway.

"Freddie…"

He tuned out her protests, only letting her go when they got to the window where locker 239 used to be. "Do you remember this?" he demanded.

Sam looked at him like he was slow. "I think the problem is that I don't have a bad memory, Freddie."

Freddie rolled his eyes. "Sam…"

Ugh. "I remember you hiding behind me like a 4-year-old in his mother's skirts. Happy?"

Well, no. Not really. "You know what I remember? Other than losing 200 bucks and almost dying?" Freddie reached out to her but she backed away. Sighing, he finished, "You driving me absolutely crazy, teching up our locker and getting me in trouble." Again.

"Are you going somewhere with this?" 'Cause so far the trip down memory lane wasn't as comforting as he seemed to think it was.

Okay, that was obviously more convincing in his head where the 'crazy' came from her being infuriatingly endearing. He took a breath and tried again. "The last 5 years were building to this, Sam. Japan, hand-cuffing you to Gibby, Missy, the locker, all of it. If they hadn't happened we wouldn't be here, now."

"Let me get this straight…" Sam put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "You're saying I'm so horrible it took you this long just to muster up feelings for me?" That was some romantic chiz, right there.

Either he was incapable of getting his point across or she just refused to take anything he said the way he meant it. "I'm saying that's what falling in love is, Sam: a series of events bringing two people closer together until they can't imagine being apart." Holding her eyes he added huskily, "I wouldn't trade them for anything."

Sam forced down the lump in her throat to snark, "That's ridiculously cheesy."

Her words lacked their usual bite so Freddie covered the hands on her hips with his own, allowing himself a soft smile. "Want to hear something even cheesier?"

Was that even possible? "Tell me…"

Freddie wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her into him, putting his lips to her ear. "I'll chase you if I have to, but you're the only one I'm running to."

"You're such a nub," she breathed, heart beating wildly. And God help her, she believed him.

His smile turned into a full-fledged grin when he pulled back to find a dazed look on her face. "Absolutely." Those hours spent watching stupid vampire movies hadn't hurt, either. Thank you, Moonlight Twi-Blood.

"You better not be messing with me, Benson." Her tone promised a world of hurt if he was.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he swore, running his thumb along her side. Hopeful, he added, "Does that mean the app works?"

"I guess so." She cautiously returned the smile. "Congratulations, Nerd."

Freddie let the taunt go to confirm, "And it's me you're in love with, right?" Fighting the urge to cringe under her critical gaze he defended, "I just want to make sure so there's no…"

Sam cut him off with a kiss, trailing her nails up his chest to the back of his neck. The boy really did talk too much.

Freddie sighed happily against her lips. Definitely no confusion there. In fact, he thought he could get used to the version of 'shut up' that involved mouths instead of threats and fists.

Easing him away when the need for oxygen became an issue Sam playfully chided, "You know… one of these days you're going to have to make the first move, lover boy."

"You're going to mock me right now?" Freddie raised an amused eyebrow. "Really?"

Sam nodded, eyes sparkling. "Uh-huh."

"Good." Whirling them around he pinned her against the wall with his body and stared into her surprised blue orbs. "'Cause I wasn't loving the new and improved Sam."

Desire and relief battled for dominance, leaving Sam to breathlessly confess, "Yeah – me either." She tried to pull his face back to her, to satisfy the longing, but he held himself away.

Freddie wasn't about to let her take charge again, though he couldn't resist placing a quick kiss on her pouting lips. "For the record I was protecting you from your maniac of a mother…" Granted, he hadn't known it was her mom at the time…

Sam couldn't decide which part of his delusion was cuter – that what he'd done classified as protection or that she'd needed protecting in the first place. Apparently boys wanted to feel needed, though, so she decided to let him have it. That part, anyway. "My mom's a maniac?" she repeated incredulously. "At least she's not camped out outside the school with an industrial-sized first-aid kit in case I get a paper-cut…"

It was Freddie's turn to pout – even when he somehow managed to take control she just snatched it right back from him. Not this time. Grabbing her wrists he put them to the wall above her head and descended to kiss her with all the passion and frustration she evoked in him. He was rewarded when she moaned into his mouth.

Holy good hell! Maybe the boy was capable of making a move. When he eventually broke the kiss (way too soon for Sam's liking, lack of air be damned) her knees were weak and her thoughts were scrambled. She did need to swipe the smug look off his face, though, so she pointed out, "You only did that because you can't say your mom isn't insane."

Freddie lowered their arms so he could rest his forehead against hers, partly in surrender and partly to get his breath back. "I just can't win with you, can I?"

Aw. "Oh, I don't know…" Sam breathed, tangling one hand in the front of his shirt and sliding the other under it to rest on his abs. "I think we could both win if you'd just accept Mama's obvious superiority." When he pulled back to give her an offended look (like she'd known he would) she arched an eyebrow and dead-panned, "Resistance is futile."

Oh, good gravy. She was quoting Space Trek at him, and the words were out of Freddie's mouth before he could stop them: "God, I love you."

Sam had to fight hard to regain the ability to speak. She kneaded the flesh under her fingers to send him the message she couldn't give him with words. "Wasn't ever a doubt in my mind."

Freddie groaned, not because she hadn't responded in kind but because she was casually rewriting a half-hour old conversation. "Of course there wasn't, my Queen." He hadn't expected her to say the words; in all the years he'd known her he'd only heard her say them once sincerely, to Carly after their near-death experience on the window-washer's platform. She wasn't comfortable expressing love, hadn't been brought up with a lot of it, and he got that. Wouldn't stop him from saying it, though – he knew she'd say it back eventually.

He was looking at her but his gaze was unfocused, and Sam started to worry that it was a deal-breaker for him. "Hey…" When his eyes focused on her again she placed her free hand on his cheek and whispered, "I hate you." Sure, she'd just given away the true meaning behind all of her little 'hate letters' but it was kinda moot now anyway. If she couldn't give him the real thing at least she could give him that.

Freddie couldn't have been happier if she'd said the actual words. Grinning, he bent to press his lips to hers, mouthing against them, "Hate you, too." Nope – not for anything.