xXx

"So, not only do you enjoy breaking into my gym locker and vandalizing my clothing. Now you also think it's necessary to steal whatever you feel like."

Freddie spat the words out venomously. Sam was lying on her back on Carly's floor, popping pieces of cubed watermelon and pineapple and grapes into her mouth.

"I dunno what you're talking about," she insisted, lazily picking a fallen grape out of her hair. Fruit had never been her optimal food choice—way too much healthy—but it was so much more abundant at the Shays' than say, fried chicken, that she'd grown sort of fond of it.

"You do too!"

"Maybe you never put your stupid shirt in your locker in the first place."

"Guys, come on," came the voice of reason in the form of Carly from behind Sam.

"No, Sam, I'm positive that I put it in there," Freddie glowered, his feet pacing back and forth next to her head. "It was yellow with a collar."

"So what are you saying here, Benson?" Sam said in bored tones. "Are you actually accusing me of being a thief?"

Freddie threw his hands up in the air. "Yeah! I kind of am! I mean, I change into my gym clothes, I put the shirt in my locker, and then at the end of the period I find that you broke in and vandalized my possessions yet again—" he motioned toward his legs, at the second pair of jeans Sam had decided to cut up a little (just for laughs), "—and that my shirt's missing!"

"Hey, what can I say?" Sam grinned, chewing a piece of melon with deliberate slowness. "Preppy dork's always secretly been my style. I guess you can get me busted when I show up wearing your shirt to school tomorrow."

Freddie stopped pacing and narrowed his eyes at her. "Well, I don't know what you're going to do with it, but you took it!"

"You guys!" Carly shouted. "We're supposed to be starting the show soon. Sam, get off the floor. Freddie, I highly doubt that Sam stole your shirt. I'm sure it'll turn up."

"Exactly," Sam nodded. "At least Carls is still in her right state of mind."

Freddie was still glaring suspiciously at her, but he made his way over to his laptop cart as Carly pulled Sam to her feet.

"In five… four… three… two…"

Of course, at that moment, the yellow shirt with the collar was in Sam's room, skewed out on her bed amidst Fat Cake wrappers and the various items of clothing she'd tried on that morning before deciding on her outfit.

Hey, it wasn't her fault that her cat had peed all over her pillowcase and Freddie's shirt happened to be the perfect candidate for a substitute.

Or that the shirt smelled like his mint-scented shampoo.

Or that this, for one reason or another, worked as a very nice aroma to fall asleep to.

xXx Disclaimer/Author's Note: I decided to put this at the end this time. I own iCarly now! Jay kay, I don't.

I know this is extremely short... I guess you could call it a drabble sort of? If you want to review, that would be great! :)