Hello, all. Welcome to the first installment of "iCome Out of the Closet." This is by no means my first femslash piece, nor is it my first slash piece of any kind. Please be hyperaware that I am in no way, shape, or form a creator and/or owner of iCarly. Please enjoy.

Carly Shay

I laughed as Freddie signed off, having just shot our latest iCarly show. "I can't believe how funny that was!" he said, his hands on his knees. He was doubled over with laughter, and Sam couldn't help but smile, herself. "Baby carrots in her nose? What'll fans come up with next?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, heading over to Freddie and patting him on the back. "Unfortunately, I thought you were going to talk about your face, there, for a second."

"Stop being so mean - OW!" Freddie rubbed his upper arm, glaring at Sam. "What'd you pinch me for?"

"Well…Fred-Weird," she said, emphasizing her fave nickname for him. "If I was being mean, you'd already be nursing two broken arms." Sam looked at me.

"It's true," I said, nodding at him.

"Sam's still so mean," muttered Freddie, heading downstairs and not thinking Sam had heard. Apparently, he didn't hear Sam's thudding footsteps as he opened the door to the studio. Sam stopped just shy of him and screamed at the top of her lungs, making Freddie fall backward onto his butt. "OWWW!" he said, glaring at Sam.

"You'd better get out before my fist falls on your butt," said Sam, holding up her knuckles.

"The floor did the job for you alre - I'm going, I'm going!" Freddie lifted himself to his feet and stumbling his way down the hall and out of the apartment.

Sam turned to me, grinning and shaking her head. "That kid's a nub!" she mumbled to herself, running her finger along all the equipment Freddie had accumulated for the show over nearly three years on the web. She turned to me, and even though she was looking into the middle-distance, I could see something was bothering her. She looked troubled, almost scared.

"Sam," I said, sitting in one of our favorite beanbag chairs. "Sam, what is it? You look like something's bothering you." I patted the beanbag chair next to mine, and she looked like she'd barely heard me. "Sam? You okay?"

"What? Oh, yeah, Carls. I'm just thinking, that's all."

"About what?"

I waited for her reply, but she looked like she couldn't find the words. "Carls…have you ever had the feeling…" She looked up at me. "Have you ever liked someone…someone you've known a long, long time, and you couldn't find the words to say that you like them?" I nodded, not entirely sure where Sam was going with this, but wanting to get to the bottom of it. "I…There's this guy…"

"Ohh," I said, cooing over my best friend. "Are you in love, Sam?"

Sam looked up at me, again. "Yeah, Carly. Yeah, I've had my eye on this guy for a while, now. Forever, actually…" Her voice trailed off, but I couldn't find the right words to help her.

"Well," she said, looking up. "I guess I'll see you later, Carls." Sam opened the door to the studio, and I tried to call her back. "Yeah?"

"Why don't you tell me about this guy you've liked 'forever?'" I said, putting air quotes around it.

"Nah…I don't wanna talk about it, right now. I'm just…I'm gonna take a walk, go home, an' get some sleep. See you later."

"Okay. Don't hassle the meat vendor again!"

"You always knew what I was thinking, Carly," said Sam, shutting the door and walking out of my line of sight.

Sam Puckett

The streets of Seattle are the best place for me to think about things, and I guess that was how it was, that particular night. I walked around, not worried about people jumping me. I mean, who'd hit a girl with a roll of breathmints as a deadly weapon in her pocket?

I guess it was about one in the morning, and I was sitting on a park bench, thinking about how to best tell Carly. I've had this kind of shit going through my mind, forever. I've always liked Carly, but more than I've ever let on. How do I tell her I've been crushing on her for years? Hell, so's Fredward, but that's another story. I looked up as a jet flew overhead. Taking off, I'd decided. Fuck, I would've loved to have a seat on that plane…First Class…anything for complimentary meat.

"Puckett, why the hell didn't you just go straight out and tell her?" I said aloud, putting my head back and feeling the first drops of rain I'd actually enjoyed feeling. The Rainy City. This is why they call it the Rainy City. There's so damn much to think about that'll make you cry. I stood and brushed off the seat of my pants, looking at a hobo I'd seen before, now nibbling at a strip of ribs. He saw me and scurried out of the way, back to his sewer, or wherever hobos live. I didn't even care about the ribs, though. I was too tired, too in love to care. I was walking aimlessly with my hands in my pockets. Every once in a while, I'd stop and see what was around me, be sure I'd be able to get back to Carly's.

At around three in the morning, I stopped on the corner of a street that was lit by a streetlamp. At first, I didn't even think about it. Then, when I was about to move on, I saw one girl pulling another by the hand. They were both giddy and all giggly, just like all the pansies at school. Well, these two were different. They weren't just giddy and giggly…they were making out right under the lamppost. At the sight of them, I was revolted, but I couldn't help but notice how happy they were. I mean, two girls who seemed so good together, who loved each other that much, to just make out in public, not giving a shit about who sees.

Then my already-powdered heart couldn't take it anymore, so I just moved on, making my way around them to keep from interrupting their makeout session, but I couldn't help but stop and check out the ass on the dominant one. Sure, she had a good one on her, but she just didn't turn me on the way I'd have liked. So I just kept going until the rain started falling, feeling like some giant nub up in the sky crying on me. It was cold, and it wasn't salty, like the tears I needed to shed right now. Sam Puckett don't cry, I reminded myself. Mama don't cry, even over meat. I couldn't help it. I seriously stopped and just leaned my back against the nearest building, not caring it was covered in derogatory graffiti or what. I just needed a good cry.

It took a while before I realized I was cold and drenched to the marrow. I needed a place to stay. Looking around, I didn't see anyplace dry enough, so I walked up to the door of the building I'd been leaning against the better part of the very early morning. Surprisingly, it was unlocked, so I came on in and noticed the place was trashed top to bottom. Papers were everywhere, there were dirty, disgusting blankets even I wouldn't have touched at any normal time. Still, I needed some sleep, so I curled up in a corner and closed my eyes, not even feeling tired.

I was standing on the fire escape they'd finally installed in Carls' apartment building after one of the fires Spencer had somehow managed to set. Sometimes he rang the bell and started it on fire…what a damn nub. I shook my head and looked through the glass of the window, seeing Carly asleep on her bed.Damn, what a body on her.I knocked on the glass of her window, but she only stirred in her sleep. I knocked a little harder on the glass, but she didn't do anything else.

Making sure the fireplace was secured to the side of the building, I lifted the heavy window, the only access to her apartment above the ground. I climbed in and knelt at the side of her bed, wishing that she'd wake up at that minute and just kiss me.

Carly Shay

I knew I was dreaming, and I didn't mind that, even though in reality I didn't have these kinds of feelings for Sam. I loved dreaming about her, and I particularly liked the dreams where she and I were standing under a full moon on the beach in Oahu, listening to Hawaiian music and making out. I knew it was a fantasy that knew couldn't be true, but it didn't keep me from dreaming it.

"I love you, Sam Puckett," I said, drawing back and seeing what she thought of that.

"I love you too, bucket of barbecue chicken wings," she said, holding up an Insanely-Large Bucket-o'-Bar-B-Q wings. "But not as much as I love the only woman that has a Freddie's chance in Oahu." She looked at me. "I love you, Carls. I've always loved you."

"I know," I said, grabbing her ass and running my tongue over her teeth, roving through the depths of her mouth.

I felt her hand drop to the area I'd always longed for her to touch…in dreamland, anyway.

I started awake just as Sam began to pull off the only thing adorning my waist…a knee-length grass skirt. I'd known there was nothing under there, and even though I was trying to get to the good part, I guess I was rushing it, because I was suddenly aware of someone standing behind me, next to my bed. "Sam?"

I turned, but she wasn't there.

Now, I've always been a girl for the rules, but I'd never broken the cardinal rule I'd given myself when I turned thirteen: No masturbation. In spite of the feelings I knew were inevitable for a teenager, and not wanting to break it now that I was aware of these, but I pulled down the insanely cute pajama bottoms I'd put on earlier that night and saw the freshly-shaved place where the has-been triangle had adorned the spot between my legs and put my hand there, particularly concentrating on the clit, which was now throbbing. Sure, I've got a hell of an imagination, but despite the fact that I tried to concentrate on an image of Fred, who I'd recently taken a liking to, and who I'd been dating a few weeks, now, my mind couldn't help but wander to Sam. She was a sweet girl, sure, and kind when she wanted to be, but she was my best friend, and I'm definitely not a lesbian. I mean, sure, I like and respect LGBTQ peoples everywhere, but me, gay? Not a chance!

It was only with these thoughts in my mind that I came, an orgasm I'd always dreamed about erupting from deep within me. I wasn't sure whether I screamed, but regardless, I don't think Spencer heard. Instead of concentrating on what my mind kept bringing to the frontal cortex, I pulled up my pajama bottoms, hand still massaging down there, and went back to sleep.

I woke up that morning, only vaguely being aware of what had happened last night. But almost immediately, all of this was interrupted by the insistent pounding of Freddie's fists on our apartment door, evading his mom of her obsessive need to give him a weekly tick bath. "Carly! Spencer! Initiate Operation Runner-Up!" I ran to the door and let Freddie in, only narrowly helping him avoid his mother, who was holding up a box of what I would have thought was ordinary laundry detergent if I was naïve enough to not know about his mother.

"Thanks, Carly," said Freddie Benson, his hands on his knees. He was bent over and panting. "At first, I tried to get rid of that box, but I'd forgotten she had another one. And another. And another. And…" He looked up when I giggled. "What? What's so funny, Carly?"

"Nothing," I said, trying to suppress a laugh I knew wouldn't be held by the dam. "It's just…"

"What?" he demanded.

"I didn't think your mom would like you having hot dogs for breakfast!" I couldn't hold this laugh in any longer, and I fell backward, laughing like a maniac.

"What? Carly, what're you…?" He looked down as he saw the gun (which was ordinarily in his pocket,) hanging down. I mean, I was surprised how big it was. Sure, I'd known Freddie a while, but I'd never actually seen his tool!

"Carly, do you have a pair of pajama bottoms I could borrow? I don't mind if they're girly, just don't let Sam see me wearing them. Please!"

I couldn't talk. I was laughing so hard that even breathing was a trouble for me. Finally, I stopped laughing long enough to say, "Sure, Freddie! I've got something you can borrow. Just 'come' in here and I'll see what I can find."

"Very funny, Carly," retorted Freddie, covering his thing and making sure Spencer wasn't around to spot him without any pants on.

Freddie stood, looking like he wanted to sit on my bed but knowing I wouldn't let him without at least having a pair of underwear on. Looking through my drawers for a perfectly good pajama bottom, I said, "So, the hot dog vendor had something good to sell, did he?" I was still shaking with laughter, occasionally breaking into a new fit, none of which were as bad as the first wave.

"Really funny, Carly. Really, Really hilarious. No more jokes."

"All right, Freddie," I said, turning to him and holding a pair of pajama bottoms that had white bunny faces on them. "Looks like you were in kind of a pickle!" I started roaring with a new fit, and I tossed the pajama bottoms at him, which he immediately put on and tied as tightly as he could.

"Seriously, Carly! It's not funny!"

"Alright. Alright. But if the fire department calls asking for their hose, what do you want me to tell them?" I was still giggling, almost as if I'd breathed in laughing gas, which reminded me of the time Sam had first gone to the dentist.

"Carly, do you see me laughing?"

"No, you're right," I said, walking past him. "Where's Harry Potter? I think he lost his broomstick, again!"

I'd just fixed Freddie some pancakes and put them down on a plate in front of him when there was another knock at the door. Before I could put my spatula down, Spencer answered it. "Hey, Sam!" he said, allowing my best friend in. I heard Freddie choke on his orange juice, and I looked over just in time to see him move over to the other side of the kitchen table, but not before Sam had spotted him in his new pajama pants.

"Hey, Fred-Weird," she said, nodding at him. "Mrs. Benson finally put girl's clothes on you, huh? 'Bout time she did that. Some boy you made."

"Sam!" Freddie whimpered, not daring to provoke her any further. "Okay. Point taken. Not gonna speak anymore."

"Good. Now you might be able to get a boyfriend, for the first time in your life." Sam turned to me. "Hey, Carls. Could we talk? I need to confide in someone I can trust."

"Sure," I said, following her into the elevator.