They lay snuggled on the couch together, his warm, strong arms wrapped around her possessively. She nestled further into his embrace, feeling incredibly beautiful and desired. The low murmur of the TV buzzed in the background, but he played with her hair as she gnawed on leftover ribs from that night's dinner with Carly and Gibby, wrapping a long blonde ringlet around his finger into a blonde sausage of hair.
Her foot curled against his knee, and he smiled at the little toes against his leg, and he began to remember where it had all begun…
"I'm through, Sam! You are always putting me down, and always providing emotional and physical pain to my life. I consider you one of my closest, best friends, and you treat me like, like... I'm done trying!" he shouted, furious at himself for allowing tears to burn behind his eyes. But he couldn't do this anymore. It hurt too much to have someone he cared so much about cause him this much pain.
He pulled at the doorknob, but stopped when he felt a hand touch his shoulder. Startled, he turned around. Sam's years of dance training had provided an uncanny gracefulness, and she was incredibly light on her feet. He hadn't heard her come tearing down the stairs after him at all. "Fredward Benson!" she hissed slowly, in a low, cold voice that he had never heard her use before. He was shocked to see lines of hurt etched into her face, and a deep pain that seemed to be burning behind her eyes. "Haven't you figured out by now that beating on you all the time is my way of showing affection? Have you forgotten the words of a very special someone? 'When a girl constantly rips on a guy," she said quietly turning around and sitting on the Shay's couch. Freddie followed her over and tentatively sat down beside her. "It usually means they like them," he said quietly, echoing his words from so long ago.
Her head whipped around to look at him, pleased that he had remembered and didn't seem to be mad anymore. She loved to push his buttons, especially when he would get so frustrated that pink would flood his cheeks and the tip of his ears. But the thought of him giving up on her was unbearable.
They sat their on the couch, not speaking, listening to the rare quiet of the Shay's apartment. Carly and Spencer were both somewhere, out or gone. It didn't really matter to Freddie or Sam where they were. "Sam?" Freddie asked quietly. She slowly turned her head to look at them. "You know what I was thinking about?" he asked anxiously. "Um-do you remember that time like four years ago when we…when we-" he began, nervously looking at her face. Oh, that face. "When we kissed?" she finished. "How could I forget it, Freddwart?" she said sadly. "My first kiss." He looked at her, reached out his hand to touch her shoulder, her face, anything of hers, but thought better of it and let it awkwardly drop to the side. "But you wanted Carly's lips, not mine. And Jonah wanted Carly's lips, and Gibby wanted Tasha's lips—" she broke off, looking at the carpet, embarrassed. She had never admitted to anyone how hard it was to always be second best to Carly, whether in looks, grades, boys. Not able to help himself, he gingerly picked up her hand. He examined it, the hard calluses on her palm, but the incredibly soft skin on the back. "Sam?" he said, his voice several octaves higher than usual. He cleared his throat, and spoke to her hand. "Sam, that kiss was the best thing that's ever happened to me." He looked up, and she locked eyes with him. And before they knew it, their lips were pressed together, and they were kissing all over again.
She rested her head against his chest, smiling at the beat of his heart against her skin, and bringing him out of his daydream. "I love our life," she murmured softly. He leaned forward and kissed her on her barbecue sauce flavored lips. She reciprocated eagerly, but he pulled away. "Sam?" he said hoarsely. "What's wrong, Freddicinni?" she asked, trying to ignore the rising feeling of rejection. "Sam, I need you to do something for me." She looked up at him, startled by the urgency in his voice. "Sure, Fredward," she said, sitting up on the couch. "Anything."
He stood up and opened his laptop. After a series of complicated typing, he turned the screen towards her. Her own face, ten years younger, grinned back at her. "I'm Sam!" she announced. "And I'm Carly!" her best friend announced, giggling at Sam. "And I'm Freddie!" Freddie chimed in, his boyish face and tousled brown hair flopping. After a sarcastic remark from Sam, making the older Sam wince but the older Freddie smile affectionately, the girls screamed, "And this is iCarly!" The camera cut to a shot of Freddie, barely fourteen, looking at something above the lens. "Princess Puckett," he began sarcastically. The camera cut again to a shot of Freddie, now 25, on one knee on the floor. Sam gasped softly at the image on the screen. "Will you marry me?" the real Freddie asked, kneeling in front of her, holding a simple but beautiful ring. A basic gold band held a glittering princess-cut stone. She felt tears welling up behind her eyes. Unable to speak, she nodded, grinning hugely. He slipped the ring onto her finger and stood up, wrapping his arms around her. She traced his face with her left ring finger, alternating between looking at the beautiful stone on her finger and the beautiful face in front of her. "Yes, Freddie," she whispered.