You watch Say Anything, you listen to In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel, you anticipate the new iCarly episodes coming up (dies of happiness) and - wala! - you have this one-shot from the girl who should be doing other things, like getting ready for her Junior year of high school.

Yeah, because she totally cares about school. Pssh.

Summery: This was sort of out-there for him. He may even call it 'jumping the shark.' But he wants her back. Set after iCan't Take It, or Sam and Freddie's anticipated break up. Based a bit on the movie Say Anything.

Disclaimer: I don't own…geez, do I actually own anything? I own this bottle of water - oh, wait, I drank that. Nope, I own nothing.


And all my instincts, they return. And the grand facade, so soon will burn. Without a noise, without my pride; I reach out from the inside.


Colorful index cards were spread over a purple covered bed, which, for once, was actually made. Other cards suffered the fate of being either crumbled or torn and being thrown into an overflowed trashcan (filled with, what else, Fat Cake wrappers) while some were just left on the floor of an uncharacteristically clean bedroom.

The blonde sitting on the bed let out a frustrated grown and she crumbled up yet another index card and sending it to its doom.

"How in the world is this suddenly more difficult?" She questioned aloud. Coming up with iCarly bits was an easy task for Sam. Random, hilarious, wacky, fun - Sam came up with it all. And she was good at it. It's what got the show its viewers.

But now, the best she could come up with was stealing a hobo's underwear and tie-dying it. Seriously? That wasn't even mean. The worst insult they could get is that their butts belong back in 1970. Pathetic, really.

She dropped her black pen onto the bed among the index cards filled with lame iCarly bit ideas and collapsed into the pillows behind her with a loud huff. When did things get so…what would be a good word…complicated? Yeah, that worked. When did things get so complicated?

Oh, right. She knew perfectly well when things got more 'complicated.' And she knew that things just got crazier and crazier as time went on…


"This isn't working."

Three words she wished she didn't have to utter. Three words that changed a happy smile plastered on a brunette's face to a confused frown.

"Whataya mean, Sam? What's 'not working?'"

"Us, Freddie! We're not working!"

He gave her that impossibly flexible eyebrow raise, showing her he had no idea what she was talking about. From his perspective, things were just fine. Sure, she wound up settling into a mental institution three days after unexpectedly kissing him, but he explained to her how willing he was to try them out as a couple, something more than just frienemies, and he, with Carly, Spencer, and Gibby, successfully busted her out. And yeah, on the first date, they were both nervous wrecks, not knowing what to do, what to say, bringing Carly along, but in the end, he kissed her goodnight. And she kissed him back. And during that moment, he felt that crazy spark in the back of his mind he only felt a few times before; he felt something real.

She noticed his puzzled face and sighed, "I can't take it."

To her, and to Freddie, those four words probably hurt more than the past three.

Considering how much she had fallen for this boy, it was odd that she was the one to bring this up. That she would be the one to end a relationship she had been longing for since God-knows-when. Considering that she was the one who put her feelings out there the night of the lock-in, got this whole situation starting, that she would be the one to finish it when it had barely even started in the first place.

And it seriously sucked.

"We're still arguing, and honestly? We're dragging Carly into every single fight and stressing her out. The crazy fan people are practically on top of us and are taking over the website with their obnoxious comments of either approval or disapproval. Which reminds me, you seriously need to start monitoring what they say," She paused for a breath, getting to the most difficult part. "And your mom…let's face it, Freddie, her sole mission, besides ridding the world of ticks and bacteria, is ending our relationship. She even hired Gibby to help!"

"Okay…so you're just gonna let my mom win? You don't let anyone win! Especially not my own mother. C'mon Sam…"

The blond let out another frustrated sigh, "She's right though. About our relationship, I mean. I'm not good for you Freddie. I'm the demon, remember? The juvenile delinquent?" Sam offered a weak smile. "And all I've done to you in the past…I don't deserve you. Your mother's pretty psychotic, but she has a point."

"Sam…" He put a strong hand on her lean shoulder, but she shook it off. He frowned at the gesture. "We've been through this. I know we weren't very civil towards each other, but-"

"Exactly, Freddie! Seriously - I bullied you, all the time. I sent your cell phone to Cambodia, I chucked oranges at you, I shoved sink hoses down your pants to make it look like you peed yourself. And after all that, you're saying we can actually work out?"

Freddie wasn't sure what to say. What Sam did to him all the time…sure, it bothered him, but he's said it before - it would be weird if she ever stopped. And this was before they even began dating.

"I…" Just like the night of the lock-in, Freddie was tongue-tied. He didn't want it to end, especially considering how much he was beginning to like it. Maybe even-

"See? You can't think of anything to say. So let's just…save our time and end it now," Sam choked out. Freddie could tell how hard it was for her to do this. If so, why was she?

Freddie drew a shaky breath, looking off to the side, "If it's what you want, then…"

Sam subconsciously bit her lip and nodded, looking down at the ground, "Yeah…it's for the best." No, it really isn't.

"We'll still be…friends, right?" Freddie looked right at her, as she quickly drew her head up to look at him. Ocean blue eyes bore into chocolate brown, and just like every time before, she melted. And he…let's just say he was going to miss those eyes looking at him.

"Totally. We'll go back to the way things were, as if nothing had ever happened."

It's funny, because whenever they tried to act as if nothing had happened, whatever happened always found its way of crawling right back to them. And then they'd have to dive deeper into themselves because they were never sure of what they really were in those moments.

He rubbed the back of his neck, "Okay. Than I guess we're…"

"Done." Freddie hated how she finished that sentence. He didn't want it to be finished. He rather have it to be incomplete than over and out of his reach.

"Well, can I at least get a…um…" He opened his arms, silently begging her to step into them for one last embrace before it was over.

She looked down as she walked into his inviting arms and wrapped her arms around his muscular body as his snaked tightly around her waist. Sam leaned her head into Freddie's shoulder as his rested on top of her golden hair, each savoring their last true moment with each other.

They didn't want it to end. But eventually, they had to let go. Let everything go.

So Sam forced herself out of the hug and stepped around Freddie toward the Shay's front door. She opened it, announcing that her mom needed her home tonight, and taking one longing look at her now ex-boyfriend, she left the Shay's residents as the door shut behind her.

Carly and Spencer rushed down the stairs as soon the door closed, each attempting to comfort the emotionally exhausted technical producer (Carly was at the same time typing rapidly on her PearPhone, most likely trying to get some explanations from her confusing best friend). But he just wanted to be alone.

He told this to the Shay siblings, who understood full-heartedly ("Are you sure you don't want some of my special lemonade? It can cheer you right up.") ("We'll have a man-to-man thing soon, Freddo. Us boys have unique ways of dealing with break-ups that involve baseball bats and shaving cream."). He quickly escaped the apartment and dove for the comfort of his bed.


Sam's chest ached at the memory. She didn't want it to end. He finally was looking at her the way she always wished he would. It was the first relationship she was ever in that actually mattered to her.

Sam let out another grown and turned over to one side so that she was facing the door to her bedroom.

What a sap.

Boys shouldn't have this effect on her. Regardless of break-ups or falling in love, they shouldn't effect her ability to create amazing iCarly bits. Especially nerdy, nebbish boys. It was ridiculous.

Carly would disagree though. She has since it had happened four days ago. She didn't want them to end their relationship considering how happy they were in it. And she didn't like how miserable they were now because Sam had to terminate it.


"Hey," Sam walked into her best friend's huge bedroom with a breakfast burrito in hand. "I got your text. What'cha need?"

She quickly noticed the brunette walk away from her closet towards a turquoise suitcase that laid open on her large purple bed.

"Hey Sam," Carly folded shirt after shirt before carefully stuffing it into suitcase, which was filled with clothes, make-up, and other essentials.

She chuckled at her best friend and used her half eaten burrito to point at the luggage, "Are you, uh, running away or something?"

"Ha ha," Carly feigned amusement. "Last minute trip to Yakima for two days."

Sam scrunched up her nose in disgust, "Ew. You may as well just save the creative name and call it Vomit Town."

Carly rolled her eyes, but smiled. Despite the negative comments, at least her best friend was saying something amusing. She was beginning to get worried. "I'm aware of how suckish the town is, thank you. But apparently Granddad needs me and Spencer for a couple of days, so…"

"Ah," The blonde nodded and sat down on the couch in front of the water-filled coffee table. Her best friend followed, plopping a seat right next to her. "Well, good luck to you both, than."

Carly gulped, afraid of what was about to come out of her mouth. She had been trying to avoid this topic with Sam because, let's face it, she was one of the most stubborn people she had ever met. Well, next to a certain 'dork.' Sam would most likely either start an argument or swim through a river of denial and annoy Carly to no end. "Are you gonna be okay? In other situations, I wouldn't be as worried, but, I mean, you two haven't exactly talked. And to leave you two alone, even for a couple of-"

"Like I said: it was for the best," Sam avoided her best friend's eyes, which she new would be filled with disappointment, but she didn't want to hear it. She didn't want to hear any of it. She wasn't sure how Freddie felt right now (she was guessing he was pretty relieved), but she already knew how miserable she had made herself. She didn't need Carly knowing that and shoving it in her face.

Her best friend sorrowfully glanced at her before returning to her suitcase, "I don't think it was." Curse Sam's huge amount of pride.

Sam let out a quiet sigh and got up from the couch, following Carly to her bed, "So what did you need me for, exactly?"

The brunette left the suitcase and walked over to the wooden dresser by her bedroom door. Opening one of the drawers fully, she rummaged around inside for what she needed. With a light 'ah-ha,' she pulled out a stack of cute, colorful index cards. She then closed the drawer and handed the cards to Sam. "We're really behind with iCarly for this week. And with me going away, I won't be much help. So do you think you could come up with the bits by yourself for this week's show?" She offered a kind smile to her best friend as she flipped through the stack of index cards. "You're better at coming up with bits anyway."

"Alright," Sam said, still flipping through the cards. Although she had to put effort into something, and she certainly wasn't in the mood for that, it was for Carly and the show, so she'd suck it up and do what she needed to do.

A sudden horror crossed her mind and she quickly looked up at her best friend, "Do I have to work on them with…"

Carly offered her a sad smile, "No, you don't have to. He'll be working on the technical stuff anyway. Just give them to me when you're done and I'll give him the cards."

"Good," She felt a slight pain in her chest with the realization that the two were, in fact, not back to the way they were before; they were completely avoiding each other. More than they ever had when they were mad at each other. On one hand, one voice told her that if anything, this is what they wanted.

But another told her that she was being selfish, stubborn, and pride-filled, and needed to knock it off with this little game of keep-away (because honestly, their other game, although it hurt her, was a lot better than this one).

It was hard to choose when one voice sounded like her own, and the other sounded like him.

"He misses you, you know."

She didn't know, actually. But she didn't want to hear it, either. She simply didn't want to hear it.


She drove her head deeper into the comfort of her pillows with the insane idea that possibly, she could get some sleep. Just one nap to get her mind out of the fray and back into making laugh-worthy iCarly bits.

Sam closed her eyes and slowed her breathing getting relaxed. Sunlight shined through the open window and all was quiet. Perfect for an afternoon snooze.

Did I tell you I knew your name? But it seems I lost it.

The blonde stirred in the bed a bit before opening her eyes. "What in the-" She lifted her head a bit off of her fluffy pillows, wondering if she was hearing things.

Did I tell you it's my own game? This is not your problem.

Guess not.

Than where in ham's sake was that music coming from? It couldn't be a block party, because one, she hosts the block parties herself, and two, that music was way to pretty and calming for it to be a part of any party.

Sam turned over so she laid flat on her back, looking out the window on her right. She then lifted herself slightly off the bed by leaning on her elbows, trying to take a good look out the window. She couldn't see anything from outside, but sure enough, that's where the music was coming from.

Because standing at the end of her driveway was a boy her age with perfectly styled brown hair, which spiked a bit in the front. He stood in casual clothing - jeans with sneakers and a, whataya know, collared shirt, which was beneath his tan jacket. His arms were raised up above him, which led to his jacket's sleeves to fall down toward his elbows, giving his nerdy appearance a somewhat cool look. He held over his head a large, black, portable PearPod docking station, which was the home to his PearPod that played the song to his very first kiss.

I don't know if I'm gonna change wasting time in another day.

He looked toward her bedroom window. Silently begging for her to notice him and come outside (and not beat the fudge out of him). Just to talk to him. And sure, the move was pretty out there for him. One may call it 'jumping-the-shark.' But he wanted her back.

I keep running away…even from the good things.

He'd stand there all day if he had to.


He was miserable.

What was terrible about this misery was that it wasn't there because his mother wanted to give him a tick bath, or because Carly rejected him for the hundredth time (in reality, she's rejected him so much more than one hundred times). Or because Sam put food coloring into his face cream, which turned his entire face blue.

No. He was miserable because Sam ended their relationship.

How amazing it was: that their feelings for each other can just flip-flop so quickly.

So as a result to his depression, he looked himself in his room, refusing to come out unless absolutely necessary.

Needless to say, Mrs. Benson was getting extremely worried about her baby boy. How can he stay in his room for four days? No growing boy should be caked in their own room for four days. It was unsanitary.

Growing boys need to leave their room if they ever want to start to bloom.

So with one knock on Freddie's bedroom door, she quietly stepped inside, holding a tray cucumber cups. She knew he liked them.

Mrs. Benson found her son messily under his Galaxy War sheets, with one of his legs over the comforter. He was in boxers and a big T-shirt with his face pressed down into his pillows.

"Go away," Freddie's muffled voice told his mother without him having to lift his head. Oh, no. He was worse than she thought.

"Oh, Freddie…" She placed the snack tray on his dresser and came to sit on his bed. She began rubbing his back in comfort. "Please come out from under there. Boys who stay tucked in too much-"

He began to sit up on his bed, crossing his legs. He lazily ran a hand through his untidy brown hair, "Please don't finish that rhyme; I'm seriously not in the mood."

"Freddie, what's going on? Why haven't you left your room?" Mrs. Benson asked in a caring tone.

"Sam…" He look a long, deep breath. "Broke up with me a couple of days ago."

It was about time. That Samantha girl just wasn't good for her Freddie-bear. "I'm sorry, Freddie."

He glared at his mother, "Don't pretend to be all upset just because I am. You're ecstatic inside - I know you are."

"I admit that I wasn't a huge fan of you two together, but-"

"Are you kidding? Mom, you're practically the reason we've broken up! Not because she got sent to jail again or she moved on to some other kid to bully," Freddie seemed to grow angrier as the conversation continued, clearly upsetting his mother. "She gave excuses about Carly and Gibby and the iCarly fans. You see, that's easy to get passed. But what you told us - it was etched into her mind, and she actually believed it," Freddie let out a cold chuckle, shaking his head. "That our relationship was just a down fall and that she was this overall bad person who wasn't good enough to be with someone like me."

"Freddie, she is a bad person," Mrs. Benson explained, trying to be kind. This just angered her son more, however. "She's been in-"

"You don't even know her, mom! C'mon, do you actually know a thing about Samantha Puckett?"

Mrs. Benson remained quiet as she stared at her son in utter shock. What in the world was going on in her boy's head?

But if she thought about it really, did she actually know Samantha? She just knew she bullied her son. Wasn't that enough?

"Don't you get it? She broke up with me because she was solely thinking about me. She ended things because you had to get involved. How does her thinking about me make her a bad person?"

No, she supposed not. But how did that change anything? She was still a blonde headed demon. "Freddie, I think that maybe her ending things was for the better. I know you feel bad, but she just simply isn't-"

"I'm in love with her, mom!"

Her eyes widened at her son's outburst. She didn't know he felt that way - she really didn't. All for the girl that used to torture him. When did things change so suddenly? "Fredward…"

"I know I haven't actually said it out loud before," his voice became lighter as he looked down at his crossed legs. "But I am. At least, I think I am."

Mrs. Benson sighed and sat up from his bed. She checked the silver watch that hung at her wrist, "Well, it's about four o'clock in the afternoon. So if you plan on talking to Sam, you better get sanitized quickly."

"Wait," Freddie sat straight up, his eyes wide. Had he heard her right? "You mean, you're okay with it? You'll let me be with her?"

"I'm still unsure of that Puckett girl," she pointed a bony finger at her only son. "But if she makes you that happy, than I doubt she's that bad."

He jumped out of bed to give her a quick hug. Freddie then ran to his drawers and pulled out a clean outfit, slinging it over his shoulder. He grabbed a cucumber cup from the tray sitting on his desk, stuffed it into his mouth, and rushed into his bathroom, quickly shutting the door.

Mrs. Benson watched in awe at how fast he went, just to get a second chance at the Puckett girl. She didn't understand it: he was never as enthusiastic about Carly as he was now.

Grabbing the tray of cucumber cups, she left his bedroom with a smile. She wished them the best. She really did.


Sam closed the front door behind her as she stepped outside. She walked over to Freddie in her cotton shorts, red T-shirt, white sweat jacket, and gray sneakers. Freddie had meanwhile turned off the PearPod doc and put it down on the cement.

"My mom's in bed, you know," She stated once she was close enough to Freddie, her arms crossed over her chest. "Frothy too. And your noise pollution is gonna wake them up and get 'em all chizzy."

"Oh," Freddie leaned back on his heals, stuffing his hands into his jean pockets. "Sorry about that. I kinda needed to talk to you, and this seemed pretty effective."

The blond raised an eyebrow, "You do know that you could've just called, right?"

He rolled his eyes. They were communicating, at least. "Like you would've answered the phone."

"Very true," Sam nodded. "So, what did you need to talk to me about?"

"I think you already know."

"Yeah, I do."

A thick silence formed. It wasn't exactly awkward, but it most certainly wasn't calming.

"There's nothing to talk about, really," Sam said, looking at the tree in her front lawn, avoiding his eyes. "We've been through this already: I'm just…not good for you. Us…we're just too complicated."

Freddie let out a light laugh, shaking his head and smiling. Sam whipped her head up to glare at him. "You think this is funny? I'm trying to be all serious here and you're just laughing. I swear, I'll adjust your attitude myself if you don't-"

"No, no," Freddie frantically waved his hands frantically in front of him, trying to calm her down. Of course she'd get aggressive. What else did he expect. "I just find it ironic."

"Ironic?" She snapped back up at him. This situation didn't seem very ironic to her, much less giggle-worthy.

"Well, yeah. I mean, when have we ever not been complicated?"

Sam's angry expression was suddenly replaced by one very familiar to Freddie. She looked up at him just as she had the night of the lock-in. That contemplating expression that now gave Freddie goose bumps. It was unnatural, but it felt…nice.

"We've had a strong dislike for each other ever since we met," Freddie continued to explain. "But in the end, whenever we needed each other, we were there. We cared about one another even when we said we didn't, and don't deny it. We were each other's first kiss, but we forced each other to pretend it never happened. Then what? Everything just kinda collected together and eventually, you admit to liking me.

"We're the definition of complicated, Sam. We're opposites and we argue and we're gonna get on each other's nerves a lot, but so what? It's what keeps us interesting. It's what keeps us being us. And I'm happy with that."

Sam kept on the same expression, except it seemed on a deeper tone, looking more into Freddie than anything. He gulped, looking down at the girl. He basically spilled his heart out, and he was nervous about the reaction he'd be getting.

Eventually, she let out a sigh, "I'm not good for you, though."

"In what sense? You're crazy and rambunctious and fun," Freddie stepped forward and used the back of his hand to brush out a blond curl lightly blowing in the girl's face. "You're also incredibly beautiful and caring. There's so many sides of you that you've been hiding all this time and I want to get to know them all. Even the bad sides. Because I know that regardless of what they might be, I'm going to love them all."

It wasn't exactly an 'I love you,' or an 'I'm in love with you,' but it was awfully close, and it was enough to get Sam's heart at a racing pace. It was enough to get salt water in the back of her eyes that she had to force away because she didn't want to seem weak or girly.

But of course, this was Freddie we were talking about.

"You're a nub, you know that?" Sam smiled up at him.

He grinned right back down at her, "You've only told me about nine hundred times."

"And you're sure about this? About…us?"

"Absolutely."

In one swift motion, he reached his arms out to her waist and pulled her closer to him. As he did so, she put her arms lightly on his broad shoulders. They both closed their eyes and leaned into each other, meeting halfway for a soft, chaste kiss.

And just like the other times the two had kissed, they felt the same spark and the same real feeling. Maybe even a little deeper than before. It meant more now, because they knew that even though things were crazy with each other, they'd get through it anyway. Together.

After a couple of seconds, they both pulled away, but continued to hold onto one another. Sam smirked deviously, "So where's the unexpected rain storm? The fireworks that magically appear in the sky?"

Freddie rolled his eyes and chuckled, "They ran out of clichés at the teen flicks store."

"What a let down…" Sam joked, shaking her head.

"But," He raised a finger excitedly and let go of her to run behind the fence that separated her lawn from her neighbors. "I do have something we can ride off on together."

"A lawnmower?" Sam asked excitedly. She wasn't a fan of clichés, but, let's face it, her entire life was a cliché. So when her boyfriend was attempting to be cute and cool at the same time, she's gonna get a bit energized.

He emerged from around the wooden fence, pulling along a silver bicycle with, not one, but two seats. Sam's face immediately went from pure bliss to confusion.

"Is that a tandem bike?"

Freddie nodded and smiled, "Yeah…"

"You're seriously expecting me to ride that with you, aren't you?"

The boy frowned at the blonde, "Please?"

Sam re-crossed her arms over her chest and raised both of her eyebrows. Did he actually think she'd ride that thing with her? Just because she was in love with him? Oh, no, no, no, no.

He gave out an exhausted sigh, "We'll make a stop and I'll get you a Skinny Billy from that convenient store three blocks down."

"Done," Sam ran over to the bike and hopped onto the front seat. This earned her a glare from Freddie.

"Sam, I'm riding in the front."

"Do you want people to harass you that you're missing someone on this two-person bicycle?" She smugly looked up at Freddie, who simply huffed and sat down in the seat behind her. "Didn't think so."

"Just start pedaling."

Sam shook her head, then pushed her feet against the petals, sending the duo off into the street and towards an impending sunset. "I can't believe this is your idea of a get-back-together date."

"Anything for my Sammy." And although she was being sarcastic, he still meant it. He really would do anything for her.

Anything.


In your eyes: the light, the heat. In your eyes: I am complete. In your eyes: I see the doorway to a thousand churches. In your eyes: the resolution of all the fruitless searches. In your eyes: I see the light and the heat. In your eyes: I want to be that complete. I want to touch the light, the heat I see in your eyes.


Of all my stories I've written, this probably has to be my favorite. I hope you liked it! Reviews are loved. :)