A/N: I am such a pushover, and I am much too nice to you lot. But this because I love you all. Thanks for all the reviews, and I changed someone's shipping! I'm so honoured that my stories had that effect on a writer. Thank you, Evangeline. Anyway, here is the sequel to Hurt. This is a happy story, I promise.

You miss him.

There, you said it.

You didn't really have much of an excuse to be mad at him, really. You were just a sucker for gossip and Stacey's charms (you're pretty sure she's gay) and now you feel like crap.

When he kissed you he tasted like the mints you remember he chews when he's nervous. You cried so hard for hours after he left. His face when you finally faced him would stick in your mind until you saw him smile again – crumpled, heart-broken and agonized.

You're such a bitch.

Sam comes round two days after you tell Freddie that you love this guy. And then you reveal to her that this guy you're dating isn't real, and you made him up to give Freddie a taste of his own medicine.

But he didn't give you any. And now that guilt that creeps over you when you lie or keep secrets has officially taken over, and you sit shaking and blubbing with your head in Sam's lap wailing at how stupid you've been.

Sam plucks your phone from the table next to the couch and holds it above your nose.

'Call him.'

'No!' You sit up sharply and bang your nose on your phone. You swear silently under your breath and rub your nose, scowling at her.

'Cupcake, it's not gonna get any better,' Sam says, in the kindest voice you've ever heard her use. 'You know you were wrong, don't you?'

'Yeah, but he won't forgive me,' you mumble, crossing your arms and glaring at the carpet. 'I hurt him so much, Sam. You didn't see his face when I told him that I love this imaginary dude that I made up to spite him.'

'I, um, went to see him yesterday,' Sam reveals quietly. 'I've never seen him so depressed. His apartment is a mess and so is he. He'd do anything to have you back, I know it.'

You bite your lip and reach for the phone. Sam smiles at you and takes your other hand; she knows you'll need her support.

You go to your contacts list and press the green button. It starts to ring, and you freak out.

'Oh my God, it's ringing!' you shriek, ending the call and thrusting the phone back into Sam's hands.

'Carly, come on, just talk to him and say you're sorry.'

Your phone suddenly blares out the Pussycat Dolls and you shriek again.

'Is it him?'

'Yes, it is.' Sam presses the green button and brings the phone to her ear. 'Yo, Freddo. Carly freaked out when your phone started ringing. Yeah, sure, she does want to talk to you.' Sam glares at you and you timidly hold out your hand. 'No, I didn't threaten her. Here she is.'

You take the phone. 'Hi.' You say, willing tears not to come.

'Hey. So, you, um, called me?'

'Yeah.'

'Oh.' There is silence and your eyes start filling.

'Freddie, look, I made that guy up. I don't love anyone else and I'm sorry I didn't trust you and I missed you too and I still do and...' you are full on crying now and when Freddie speaks you can hear the smile in his voice.

'So, you're not mad at me?'

'No. I'm so sorry, I was stupid and I'm sorry I broke your heart. Can I come over and mend it again?'

'I'll be waiting. I love you.'

'I love you too. We'll make this work, right?'

'Course we will, buttercup. You know I'll do anything for you.' You laugh and you're suddenly so happy that you feel like your heart is going to burst.

'See you in a minute.'

'Bye.'

You end the call and throw your arms around Sam. When you look up Sam mimics pressing the button on her blue remote which activates cheering on iCarly. You giggle and Sam does too.

'Well, I'm going,' you say, hopping up. 'I'll be back tomorrow.'

'I think you'll be staying the night.'

'You are very right there.'

When Freddie opens the door he's carrying a rose in his hand and he's grinning so much that it's infectious. You open your mouth to say something but he picks you up and silences you with a kiss.

And this time you kiss him back.

Later, when you're lying in bed and his arms are around you, he tells you that he loves you, and he reaches behind him for a little tiny box. You don't notice at first because you're so snuggled in his chest and you can't really see anything, but he sits you up and opens it, his expression hopeful.

'Will you?'

'Um, Freddie, we just had a really bad fight.'

'I know. But we just made up again, didn't we?'

'Yeah, but isn't it a little soon?'

'Maybe. Are you freaking out like you did when my phone started ringing?'

'I am not! I'm just being realistic.'

'So am I. I love you.'

'I know,' you look into his big brown eyes that are staring right back. 'There might be another reason why we want to get married.'

'Is there? What is it?'

You take his hand and press it to your stomach. His eyes widen and you know he can feel a tiny heartbeat under your skin.

'You're...we're...oh my God.'

You nod and you can see tears of joy filling his eyes. This is the second time you've seen him cry, like actual, proper crying, and this is the only reason for crying you want to see, ever.

He kisses you, and there is some kind of desperation in it, like he's drowning and you're a diver's oxygen tank. The box falls on the floor and when you hear the thump you pull away.

'Freddie, the ring, it fell off the bed.' Freddie reaches down, keeping his eyes on yours, and brings back the box.

'So you want it now, do you?'

'Yeah, I guess. I was brought up to believe that a baby should have parents joined legally.'

'Is that the only reason?'

'No, you idiot, I love you and that is the main reason, obviously.'

Freddie gives you that thousand-watt smile of his and you giggle at how happy he is.

'You're so cute when you're happy,' you tell him.

'You're cuter.'

'Yes, I know,' you reply in a diva-voice, swishing your hair and fluttering your lashes. Freddie's eyes narrow and darken.

'What?'

'You have no idea how sexy that is.' His voice his husky and deep and God, you've missed this.

'Glad to be of assistance,' you reply, placing your arms one by one, very slowly, round his neck. His eyes burn. 'Need any more?'

'Definitely.'

His mouth finds yours and you allow yourself to melt into his chest.

When the sky darkens and it's late and you're sleepy from all the sex, Freddie gets dressed and tucks you under the covers, telling you he's hungry and he's making dinner. You barely hear him tell you before you go under.

You don't normally have nightmares, but tonight you do. You dream of Stacey's news, and the pain you felt, and the argument where he told you he was hurt that you didn't trust him, and the final expression on his face when you told him your heart belonged to someone else.

You wake up crying, with Freddie's arms round you and his whispered comforts not loud enough over the roaring in your ears. You push his arms away and will him to leave you alone, but he doesn't. You are finally able to hear him and he's telling you that it was a bad dream, nothing more, not real.

'But it is real,' you wail. 'It all happened and it's all my fault.'

'No, no, it's not, buttercup, it's not.' Freddie's arms wrap round your waist from behind and he pulls you against his chest.

'I believed Stacey.'

'Yeah, but you don't now, do you? Baby, I forgive you, for everything you said and did. OK, it hurt, but I don't care because I got you back and that's all that matters.'

'Have I mended your heart, then, like I said I would?'

'Yeah. It's whole and happy now, and you know why you could fix it?'

'Why?'

'Because it belongs to you; it always has and it always will.'

'That is quite possibly the corniest thing you've ever said.' You tell him, twisting in his embrace and tapping his nose.

'Thanks.'

'But it was sweet.'

'I do try my best.

You giggle and he smiles at you.

'You still tired, buttercup?'

'Yeah. Night.'

'Goodnight. I love you.'

You wake up in the morning to find Freddie still asleep and his ring on your finger. His face is nuzzled in your neck and your arms are still wrapped loosely around his neck.

You haven't got dressed yet. You'll probably just borrow one of his shirts and wear his underwear, like you do every time you stay the night at his place. You look at his face and you have a sudden flashback of when he was thirteen and he was a good three inches shorter than you and his voice was really high and he followed you around like a puppy.

He looks just like that now. You smile and trace your fingers over your stomach, feeling the little tiny piece of life in there. It's partly you and partly Freddie and you think that it will be the most perfect baby in the world. You want it to have Freddie's eyes and his intelligence and your good looks (if you do say so yourself) and your comedy and something kind of weird but cool.

You start imagining names. Hannah Samantha Benson, Callum David Benson. You like those, and decide to wait and see what their father thinks.

It's eight am when Freddie groans and stretches and blinks at the sunlight flooding through his window. He smiles at you and kisses you.

'Morning, you. Did you sleep well?'

'Much better. You?'

'Great. Did you have any more dreams, buttercup?'

'No. I was thinking about two things.'

'Shoot.'

'Wearing your clothes today and baby names.'

'Sure to the first one and OK to the second. Why now?'

'It might take months to decide. I'm four months along. That's why I look fatter.'

Freddie raises an eyebrow and suddenly dips to kiss your belly.

'Hi, baby,' he says. 'This is Daddy.'

'He slash she can hear you?'

'Yeah. Mommy's not on form today is she?' You glare at him and he gives your stomach another kiss.

'You're a clever baby, aren't you? Just like me. You are going to have great hair.'

'You are so random.'

'We both have good hair. Mine is attractively messy and yours is beautiful.'

'Thanks, but your hair is terrible in the morning.'

'Hey! Mommy's being mean, baby.' He pouts and you laugh. You reach out and ruffle his hair.

'Freddie, give me a shirt and some boxers.' He gives your stomach one last kiss and goes to his closet. He brings out the asked-for clothes and you put them on, wriggling slightly with the boxers.

'Hungry?'

Your stomach growls. 'Yep.'

He takes your hand and pulls you into the kitchen.

'Freddie, when do you want to get married?'

'Don't mind. Tomorrow?'

'No! I have to find a dress and I need Sam, who is visiting her mom today.'

'End of the summer?'

'Fine.'

'Great, three months to organize a wedding. You do it, I'm crap at organizing.' Freddie places a bowl of cereal down in front of you and watches you eat.

'Why do I have to do it?'

'Because you're amazing and stag nights take a long time to organize.'

'Thank you and no, they do not.' You point your spoon at him accusingly. 'Lazy.'

'I don't know how to do weddings. I'll forget the cake and the vicar and the place to have the service and I won't organize a honeymoon.'

You look at him and see pure adoration and admiration in his eyes. You know right then that he really, really loves you. You've been such an idiot.

'OK. I'm sure you won't have any trouble with the wedding night.' You finish your cereal and wink at him, standing up and making sure you swing your hips as you walk past him.

'Hmm. I may need a little practise.' Freddie comes behind you and nibbles on your earlobe, before kissing his way down your neck.

'Well, we'd better sort that out.'

'I agree. Come here.'

You know that now, everything will be just fine.

A/N: Done! 2,102 words. Remember to review amazingly like you have been. 3