A/N: First ever iCarly fic so please be gentle.

Chapter one: The Warriors, Carly's new boyfriend and other reasons to sleep at Freddie's

It was fall and the campus of Carroll Sky University was beautiful, all the leaves were orange and red, the air was crisp, it felt like a good time for pie. Sam didn't have any pie. The thought of not having any pie made Sam sad as she shuffled back to the dorms after a long day of pretending to learn. The dorm hall smelled of stale beer, vomit and the burning smell of someone using a hot plate to make dinner. While most students felt their lunch come up at the strangling weight of the smell, it brought a feeling of nostalgia to Sam; it reminded her of her mother and their terrible apartment. Despite not wanting to hurl at the smell of the dorm, she was looking forward to the smell of clean linen and paint that the room she shared with Carly seemed to always have. She wasn't sure how their room always smelled so nice, but it was one of best moments of her day, falling asleep to that smell.

"Hey, Carls, I was thinking we should go out for some apple pi-" Sam opened the door to the room she shared with her best friend and was met with the smell she had been looking forward to. Her eyes, however, did not receive such a welcome sight. In the bluish light of the darkened dorm she made out the malformed shape of Carly and her new boyfriend making out on her bed.

Carly was desperately waving her arm at the door, shooing Sam away. This was the fourth time this week alone that she had come home to this, she was getting sick and tired of this.

"Get it off my bed!" she growled, slamming the door, leaving Carly to examine 'what's his name's' tonsils with her tongue.

Sam was glad that it was still just the beginning of fall so that, despite the relatively late hour, it wasn't cold out, because if she wanted to sleep on something that wasn't a floor she would have to walk across the campus once again.

The old metal street lamps flickered on as she walked past the campus radio station: 54.50 The Jabberwocky. The orange light lit up one of Sam's least favourite people. There, leaning against the small independent brick building, was Mike Stand the night DJ. The smoke billowing off his light cigarette made the air around him a blue grey.

"Sam!" Mike Stand had his eyes on Sam in more ways than one.

Sighing, Sam stopped, readjusted her backpack, and waited for him to say what she knew he was going to say.

"Sam," He reached out to touch her arm but the burning look from her eyes stopped his hand in mid motion, "Come work with me at the station."

"No."

"Why not, Sam? You and I would make wonderful programming together." His smirk and the way his brown eyes sparked at her made her well aware that he was not just talking about her taking the job of his co-host.

"No. I'm busy with iCarly."

"I promise you that working with me would not interfere with iCarly or school." His dark smooth voice was starting to sound desperate.

"Hmph, like I care about school," she smirked and walked away from him.

The door to Freddie's dorm flew open and, for the fourth time that week, Sam stormed in like she owned the place. She dropped her backpack at the door and grabbed the can of Peppie Cola from Freddie's hand as she walked by him and into his bedroom. She flopped onto his bed she screamed into the mattress as if it was the one that had kicked her out of her linen and paint scented room.

Her mouth opened to yell that she needed a crazy straw but before the words could form in her mouth Freddie took the can from her. Before Sam could move herself to hurt him she had the drink back in her hand a crazy straw hanging out of the opening.

Sighing, he sat down on the floor. "Again?" She mumbled something into his pillow. "What did you want to watch tonight?" Freddie asked, moving to the shelves of movies surrounding his television.

"Mmanima," came her noncommittal reply. They had watched a movie every night that she came over and she had never really picked any of them. Freddie knew better than to pick a movie that wouldn't keep her interest, for if she was interested enough in the movie she would forget that he was even there, she wouldn't make fun of him and he could get his homework done in time to get a decent enough amount of sleep on the floor. Next to his bed. That was what he hated about when Sam came over: not that she came over all the time, or that she made fun of him and ate his food, but that she would sleep in his not-as-comfortable-as-it-should-be bed and he would sleep next to it, on the floor with a pillow and half a blanket. "The new Slaybert movie?"

Freddie sat on the floor in front of his movies and shook his head, "We watched it Monday....." He looked back at her from across the small bedroom and through the open door he could see one of his roommates, Andy was in the kitchen. Both Carly and Sam where horribly jealous of his dorm, he had hit the jackpot and been placed in the Samson Hall and the rooms in that building, while three to a room, were like mini apartments: individual bedrooms, a kitchenette, bathroom and small living room.

"The Warriors?" Freddie held up a dark case for her to see.

"What's that?" Confusion settled into her face as she pulled the dark Peppie cola out of its can and up the loops of her blue crazy straw.

"A gang called the Warriors has to fight their way across New York because everyone thinks they killed the big gang boss." He put it into his DVD player because there was no way that Sam would say no to the movie.

"Now we're talking, Fredwinna." Sam bounced a little on the bed to get comfortable for the movie. Freddie got up to close the door and as he did so he could hear his roommates talking in the kitchen.

"She's here again."

"That scary blonde chick Fred's nailing?"

"Did you get new earplugs?"

As if.

Freddie shook his head, closing the door and settling down in front of the bed. How could anyone think that about him and Sam? Sure she had been over almost every night this month, but that just meant that they were friends. It did not in any way mean that he was getting any. What it meant, in fact, was that almost every night that month he had been sleeping on the floor and been stepped on in the middle of the night. Just once he wished he could sleep in the bed when she was over.

The movie was almost over and Sam had barely said one word to him. He loved when it worked out that way. He finished up his essay and put his laptop away just in time to watch the Baseball Furies and The Warriors go at it in central park.

(Just as one of the warriors got a hold of a baseball bat) Sam spilt her Peppie cola all over Freddie and the floor. The dark pool of sticky liquid was quickly making its way towards the wall of electronics. Eyes wide and heart fearful for his electronics, Fredward ripped off his already stained shirt and used it to soak up the liquid.

"Crap!" Sam paused the movie in order to offer her help in stopping the cola, but it had already ceased its journey. Sam's bright blue eyes wandered over Freddie's uncovered torso. She was defiantly shocked that she didn't feel the need to immediately vomit as soon as she saw him without a shirt.

Freddie stood up to throw the soaked shirt into the hamper and as he did so he noticed that Sam was eyeing him rather oddly.

"What?"

"Do you still fence?"

"Ya, I fence for the school club.... thanks' for paying attention..." he mumbled, but he could still feel Sam's eyes burning into his skin. "Enjoy it while you can, Puckett."

"Why, am I the only girl to have seen it?" Her mouth pulled itself into that smirking smile that he had become so accustomed to seeing on her face. And if Freddie had felt like he had had the upper hand he was now faltering. His confidence weakening as the look on Sam's face grew more and more into the bullying face he knew so well.

Freddie took too long coming up with a comeback, so Sam took his silence as an agreement.

"I'm right then." Sam's laugh was crueler than he thought it would be; it was angry and loud.

"Like you've been with so many guys."

"I've been with more people than you!"

"Shut up!"

"You shut up!"

"Both of you shut up!" came a tired and frustrated voice from the hall.

Confused, they both turned to the door and Freddie opened it to see Andy or, as Sam referred to him, 'the blonde one.'

Andy stood in the hall in his pajamas, bags under his eyes, and his hair all over the place. When he spoke he was a lot quieter, "Dude, I'm sorry to break in on you and your girl's weird pre-sex yelling, but I have an early lab with Prof. Hoffer, so could you chill on the loud sex for tonight please? Thanks." He closed the door on himself and left the two friends in an awkward silence.

"What did Dork-o mean by that?" Sam asked, pointing at the now closed door.

"Nothing," Freddie sighed. "Just my roommates are under the impression that we do it every time you spend the night."

"That's ridiculous!"

"I know –"

"Who'd want to have sex with you?" they both said in unison and in unison they looked at each other in outrage.

"Lots of people!" once again in unison.

"Like who?" Sam inquired, kneeling on his school provided twin bed.

"Gloria Peterson." he said matter-of-factly, as if the entire scientific community knew and accepted this fact. Sam, however, batted it aside as if it had no merit what-so-ever.

"That fat girl with the moustache-e-o?" Sam put a finger across her upper lip to emphasize her point. "She'd fuck anything that didn't run away."

"Well, what about you?" he pointed at her defensively.

Sam thought about it for a moment, and an image of Mike Stand standing in the orange lamp light outside the radio station with his cigarette popped into her head as did the image of a tall brunet football player, "Steve Marshall!"

"Steve Marshall?" Freddie laughed, "He tried to have sex with a mail box last month; he's no prize."

"At least I've had sex!" The lie flew out of her mouth before she had a chance to think of anything else to say.

"Liar! You have not!"

There was a very loud silence that spoke loud enough for both of them.

"What's the big deal about it anyway." Sam spoke quietly, almost to herself. She sat back down on Fredward's bed and pulled his pillow into her lap.

Sighing, Freddie sat down next to her. "I don't know. They always make such a big deal out of the 'first time'"

"I know," Sam's voice was desperately frustrated, "I probably would have done it by now if there wasn't such a big emphasis on 'the first time' being so special."

"I bet it's not special for anyone." Freddie told her willing himself to believe his own words, "I just wish I could get it out of the w-" He stopped mid-sentence, recognizing the words.

They struck a strong resemblance to what was said between them so many years ago on a fire escape, before they shared their first kiss with each other.

"Out of the way?" Sam finished his thought for him. Her long blond hair was shielding her eyes from him so he wasn't sure if she was serious or not. Her skin, however, was much redder than usual.

He was staring at his hands, afraid to look at her. "Do you think that maybe we..."

"What?" Sam looked up at him, her hair falling out of her bright eyes, face flushed with the topic of their conversation. "You want to have sex with me?" Her strong voice wavered with nervousness as she spoke, but her eyes, had he been looking at her, were shiny with the horrible possibility that he hadn't meant that at all.

"Maybe.... just to get it over with? Out of the way?" His own voice was quiet and scared. Sam was not the kind of girl to take a proposition like this lightly, either she would accept or she would beat him up. He was really only prepared for the latter.

He flinched when Sam moved her hand towards him. He silently thanked God that she was going to beat him up, but she didn't. Instead she put her hand gently on the side of his face. Shocked, he looked at her, worried she had some other form of punishment prepared. But she didn't. She sat there next to him, her hand on his face, her eyes bright and afraid her skin flushed.

It seemed for the first time in the entire time he had known her she was waiting for him.

"Uh... should we kiss?" His voice was soft and the warmth from Sam's hand cupping his face was flushing his skin.

"Probably..." she said, not looking at him.

Freddie leaned towards Sam, placing his hand on the bed beside her to steady himself. He looked at her briefly before kissing her.

This kiss was very similar to their first kiss. It was soft and nervous and the familiarity calmed their nerves.

Freddie pulled away from her and opened his mouth to ask her something but no words made it out of his mouth. Sam put her other hand on his shoulder and felt his skin under hers.

How is it possible that his skin is so soft. Sam's bright blue eyes wandered once again over his body, wondering if they were really going to go through with this.

How are her hands so small? It didn't seem right that a person who could knock out a trucker with a carton of milk could have such small hands. With her small hands she pulled Fredward back into her kiss.

Freddie's hand moved to her side and found its way under the fabric of her shirt. Freddie was a little shocked to find that Sam felt like a girl, soft and welcoming. With one hand on the small of her back and the other tangled in her hair, he started to ease her back onto the bed.

Freddie sat up a little bit and looked down at Sam, she had her eyes closed. "You're sure," he whispered. Sam just nodded and Freddie leaned down to kiss her again. Sam was amazed at how easy it was to imagine that she was doing this with someone who loved her when her eyes were closed.