A/N: Wow, I'm actually updating this story? I guess I am. Now don't get your hopes up, this isn't going to go on for months as a multi-chapter story, this story line doesn't need to. As of now you're looking at one more chapter. MAYBE two, but it depends on where I see this lead. But you guys have been so awesome and so many have reviewed/added this story, I feel you deserve a little treat, and I couldn't leave Freddie heartbroken forever. So please read, and I hope it lives up to expectations.

DISCLAIMER: I do not, I REPEAT, I do not own iCarly. I hope to own a show of my own one day, but it won't be iCarly. Thank you for your time.

It's been a month.

One month and Freddie hasn't told Carly anything.

One month and Freddie hasn't told Sam anything, either.

They continued on the same, and just like he promised, as far as Carly and the others knew, Sam got drunk that night and crashed at his place. Carly of course freaked out at both her friends when she found out, but surprisingly found it nothing short of Sam like behavior. She was oblivious.

And so was Sam. She had the same attitude, same evil smile, and same brutality towards Freddie. Sometimes it made him worry: was she that good of an actress or did she genuinely forget what happened?

So as always, Freddie was the one stuck with all the memories, and all that combined with his already annoying emotions toward her made for a very tired mind. So he sat there in his seat, slumped over, eyelids drooping, and barely paying attention to his professor's last words. The bell rang and he gathered his stuff while Sam was already leaning against the door frame.

"Come on Frediffer. Stop dragging your butt. B.F. Wangs is closing early today and I needs me a spicy egg roll."

"Yeah yeah, Sam, you'll get to stuff your face as usual as soon as we meet Carly."

She made a face as she looked down at her stomach, then grabbed a hold of it and groaned out "Ohh but mama's so hungry."

Freddie smiled despite his exhaustion and chuckled. She was making her hungry face: eyebrows furrowed, cheeks puffed, and lips pouted. Damn it was cute. He hated that he liked it so much.

They saw Carly walking down the hall and approached her.

"Sup Carls." "Hey Carly," and they exchanged heys.

"So you guys have that Brandon Hayes guy in you Psych class, right?"

"Yeah," answered Freddie. "But he hasn't been in for about two weeks. The professor stopped caring."

"Well you guys know why he's out, don't you?"

"Uhh, are we supposed to even care?" asked Sam. Freddie and Sam exchanged glances. They didn't get why she sounded worried about a guy they barely knew.

"Well maybe you should, cuz I heard from his roommate that his court date is today."

"Court date?" repeated Freddie.

"Again, should we care?"

"Yeah Sam. He told me it was cuz Brandon spiked some drinks at that party we went to those couple weeks ago. He took one of the girls to his dorm and now she's suing him for rape or something."

Freddie froze. Rape. Drinks... So Brandon spiked some drinks at the party and took advantage of some girl. Sam came to him that night because that guy spiked her drink. If she hadn't have thought the way she did, she would be that girl...and giving her a place to crash and a shoulder to spit up on wouldn't have saved her.

He wouldn't have been able to save her.

Freddie wanted to scream. This was way too close. He was subtle, but he inched his head toward Sam and looked at her. It was a knowing look; he needed to talk to her. But Sam didn't look back and only acknowledged him with shrugged shoulders.

"That's low," she said to Carly. "I think that'll give him a bunch of years in the pen if he's guilty. Who woulda thought one of Gibby's parties would turn out so crazy."

"Well, Sam, you should. After all you did get drunk at that party and sleep at Freddie's."

"Pfft. Not even. I was just a little dizzy," she then gave a smug smile and rubbed her stomach. "Momma knows how to hold a beer."

Freddie clenched his fists. What? A little dizzy? You barfed in my toilet twice, collapsed about three times and cried about four. And I was freakin there the whole time and you can't seem to remember any of it.

He didn't notice his friends staring at him until Carly tapped his shoulder. "Hey Freddie, are you alright?"

He gave Sam another look but she had nothing written that face, that face that was so cute about five minutes ago. Now he hated it again. She looked as clueless as Carly, and he couldn't take the bull crap anymore.

"Yeah, um, I just got this throb in my head, probably cuz I didn't get much sleep last night. You know what, I'ma just go head back, take a nap."

Carly raised her brow. "You sure?"

"Yeah. You guys just go ahead and I'll meet up."

"Weelllz," sighed Sam, "if it's like that then you wouldn't mind dropping this off for me, would ya, Freddo?" and she dropped her text book in his arms.

Freddie shot her a cold glare, and he didn't care whether Carly saw it or not. "You know what, Sam? Just...whatever," and he stomped off and headed for the double door exit.

Freddie didn't meet up with them. Gibby had football practice so instead he utilized the time alone and slept, but when he couldn't sleep because of those frustrating dreams, he laid on the couch, refusing to touch his homework. But he quickly found that annoying, too. Sitting there in silence forced him to think, and he didn't want to think. He wanted to forget.

He walked to the kitchen and scanned the cabinets for something to eat until he settled on a bowl of cereal since he was too lazy to prepare anything else. He chomped on the colorful oats in disdain. Sam's book she forced him to carry was sitting a couple of feet in front of him, so he had no choice but to think about her again.

Why did she have to be so complicated? So confusing? So crazy? Why was she so dense into thinking that suppressing what happened would make everything okay? Did she not see how everything was affecting him at all? He's the one who had to deal with what happened, too. He also had to deal with his feelings, his attraction, his wanting of her. But it was weird because it wasn't how a normal teenage boy would want a girl. He wanted her brutality and her aggression and her friendship and her trust. He wasn't kidding when he told her he wanted her to come to him more. Their kindness for each other was barely ever explored, but would it kill her to open up her insecurities? Why wasn't he allowed to see what Carly was allowed to see?

It shouldn't bother him anymore. They've been at it for years. He was used to it now. But why didn't he want to keep that? Why did he want more?

He absently flipped the cover of her book back and forth while thinking. He caught a hold of one of the pages and paused when his finger slipped over a folded piece of paper. Not even caring about the repercussions of searching through Sam's things, he took it and opened the crease. It was a letter written in someone's sloppy script.

Without thinking twice, he read the first few lines:

Samantha,

I'm not gonna start this off the same way I started the other letters. I figure these all go in the trash anyway because I haven't received any letters from you. But I'm coming to town again, Samantha, and I want to meet with you and your mother—but mostly you. I want to know my baby girl again. I need to see the little me with my blue eyes and curly hair and nose. I wanna know you again, and we haven't gotten to do that since I got out the pen. So…please, read this over at least once and get back at me. I wrote my number down again. Or you can just get it from your mother. Whatever you like. But really, Samantha, I miss you so much, and I hope you miss me, too...

Freddie didn't feel like getting up when the knocks came on the door. He was laying on the couch wanting so badly to disconnect with the world. Or at least with Sam. Her letter was back in her book, right where he found it. Never in the past month had he heard anything about Sam getting in touch with her father. Really, all he did know is that he got out of jail for god knows what about three years ago, but Sam never seemed to care. Why wouldn't she tell him this? He was sure she showed Carly the letter, because they were friends, and apparently he and Sam were nothing because she couldn't even keep her promises.

More knocks came.

"The door's open," he yelled, not caring who it was. Sam walked in and headed straight for the kitchen.

"I see my book's in one piece," she started. "So, why'd you ditch us earlier? From the looks of it your head is perfectly normal. Well, normal as it'll ever be."

Freddie slowly stood up and leaned over the counter. "Not now Sam, I don't feel like dealing with your crap today." Really, he didn't.

"Whoa," she laughed. "Who got your antibacterial underwear in a bunch? Or is it just that time of the month for you?"

"No," and he opened her forgotten text book and turned to the letter. He held it up to her face. "But it's that time for you to tell me the truth. For once."

Sam wasn't playing nonchalant anymore. She flared her nostrils and snatched the folded piece of paper from his hand. "What the hell, Benson!? Asking you to carry my book doesn't give you the freakin right to look through it! Seriously, are you asking for a death sentence?"

"I asked you to be honest and up front with me! But I guess that's physically impossible for you. I didn't even read the whole freaking letter, but I didn't have to to tell that you're hiding something from me. And it's only me, right? I bet you told Carly about this, right?"

"So what if I told Carly, it's none of your business. Nothing is your business! You know, I don't get you Freddie. Why the hell do you care about this stuff anyway? You're not my father, you're not my protector, and you're not—"

"Not your friend, either."

Sam caught her breath. That was certainly something she didn't expect to hear. "W-what?"

"Face it, Sam, that's the only thing we have for each other: hate. You're making me carry this huge secret and you don't even seem to care that some girl got raped by the same guy that spiked your drink. You wouldn't do that to a friend! You wouldn't make someone carry that much guilt if you liked them. Don't try to deny it: we're not friends."

Suddenly the letter in her hand weighed one hundred pounds more, and she felt herself sinking down. For once, she felt small under Freddie's eyes. "Oh, just…just cut the melodramatic crap, Freddie," but he ignored her and walked toward the door. She spoke louder. "We play this game all the time: we yell, we fight, I embarrass you on a heck load of occasions, and we scream that we hate each other. But it's not really true. Come on, Freddie…we're friends."

Freddie didn't face her, and he shut his eyes as he grabbed the doorknob. "Maybe…then maybe I don't wanna be."

"What?"

"You should go, Sam."

"No."

"Why?"

She bit her lip. "Because…because…because you're being stupid, that's why! Look, you're right. I shouldn't have forced you to keep that secret, and I shouldn't have ignored your feelings. You want me to say I'm sorry? "

He sighed. "No Sam, I don't. You wouldn't mean it anyway."

"Well, okay then, what do I have to do to convince you I mean it?"

He looked in her eyes for the first time. Those blue irises were big, and almost pleading. They reminded him of that morning, that morning when she first begged him to keep the secret, and when they were okay again. He realized something that day, and even though he hated to admit it, even though he hated her in that moment, he had to remind himself.

He liked Sam.

She drove him so crazy, but he didn't want to be away from her. Without realizing it, he raised his hand and cuffed it around her cheek. He stared hard, and trailed his finger down her jaw line. He wanted to…

No. What in the world am I doing?

He clutched his hand back into a fist, and averted his eyes as he shoved his hand into his pocket. "Uh, just…forget it. Forget what I said. You should go, though."

Sam glanced down, too. Her cheek was warm all of a sudden and she didn't know what to say. "Yeah, I should…" and she walked out when he opened the door for her.

But she took two steps backward before he shut the door. "So…" she started. "Are we cool?"

Freddie sighed in defeat and held up his fist for her to knock them back in an amicable exchange. "Yeah, we're cool."

Sam curved her lips. "Good," then she left again.

It was a late Sunday, and for some reason Freddie was happy. Well, not as happy as he was content. He felt he was able to cool off in the last couple of days, and he and Sam didn't fight after that.

In fact, he was done.

Done with everything: with the conflicting emotions, the rage, the anxiety, he was done with it all.

He knew how he felt about her now. It was Sam's turn to deal.

He placed the popcorn bowl in the center of the table and opened the DVD case. It was the gang's movie night, but with Gibby making up an exam it was just the classic three: him, Sam, and Carly. He was about to place the disc into the player when the door swung open.

"Sup, Fredduccini, ready to watch some mutant ninjas recapture the underground Tokyo mafia?"

"Hey Sam," he greeted. "Carly comin?"

"Nah, she and Wendy wanted to catch that new vampire movie instead. And you know how much I despise those things sooos it's just me."

"Oh, great. How wonderful," he made sure his voice was dripping with sarcasm.

She plopped on the couch and snatched the bowl of popcorn. "Well, Freddo, if I'm not mistaken it sounds like you're dreading these two hours alone with me."

Freddie gave a wry smile as he sat down next to her. "Oh no, Sam, not at all. You can't imagine how much I'm looking forward to this. Now quit hoggin all the popcorn, you scavenger."

She stuck out her crumb covered tongue and they started the movie. It was a big anticipation so they glued their eyes in for the first twenty minutes. The special effects were not a disappointment, but sadly everything else was. At first they assumed the cliché protagonist searching for his lost identity was okay, but the three second fight scenes and useless damsel in distress were just too many clichés to handle. About an hour into the movie, Sam reached for the remote and powered off the TV.

"Why'd you do that?"

"Because that movie was a load of chizz. I couldn't sit through another minute of Japanese chicks screaming."

"Yeah, you're right," and he sat up and stretched as Sam's phone went off. He watched her read the text and raised an eyebrow as she shut it and narrowed her stare.

"Uh, you kay?"

"Yeah," she sighed, "it's just my stupid mother for the thousandth time telling me to write back to that stupid letter."

"Err, letter?"

She gave him a look through the corner of her eye. "My father's letter."

"Oh…" He grew silent for a while. "Hey, I'm sorry about me freaking out before. You were right. It's none of my business what goes on between you and your family. I was just being stupid."

"Nah, I'm over it," and she lowered her tone a bit. "You were just being a friend." She ignored the look he gave her. "But you were wrong about one thing: I didn't tell Carly."

"But she's…Carly. How couldn't you tell her?"

"Dude, I didn't even know how to react to the letter. So why am I gonna show you two and have you guys decide my feelings for me?"

"We wouldn't have—"

"Riiiight. Carly would've been like, but he's your father and he wants to rebuild a relationship with you so you shouldn't be so selfish and blah blah blah. And youuu would've practically said the same thing."

Freddie smirked. "Not really. I would've just been happy that you wanted to share something with me for once."

Sam looked at him for a moment then smiled absently and crossed her feet together on the couch. "There you go again getting all touchy feely on me. Really…why do you care so much what I share with you?"

He only shrugged and stretched out his feet, resting them on the coffee table. "I guess as much as I love fighting with you I like knowing we're close, too, ya know?"

She nodded absently in response and occupied herself with the thread poking out of ripped jeans before speaking again. "You know sometimes I think we must've defied the laws of nature or something. Cuz I'm pretty sure enemies aren't supposed to like each other this much."

He caught her stare and held on to it. "And since when does Sam Puckett care about breaking the rules?"

"Touché. But still…don't you think we're crossing into very dangerous territory?"

And in that moment he was ready. He was ready to tell her everything, every conflicting thought he's had since day one. He knew there was a ninety-nine percent chance he would fail miserably, but he didn't. "Sam, you're the epitome of dangerous. I should be terrified just sitting here with you, but for some reason I'm not. For some reason I'm being drawn by that…" and he moved his eyes to the top of her head. "…by that annoying piece of hair sticking out of your head. Gosh," and he plucked the strand away.

Sam chuckled despite her increasing heart rate. "Quit making me laugh, Benson. Like I said before this is very dangerous territory."

He smirked again stared at his hand still entangled in her curls. He moved his fingers and ran them from the back of her neck to the bottom of her jaw, stopping at her chin. Somewhere along the line he kept inching closer to her until their noses touched. He tilted her chin closer, and he could see the shock and fear beam from those blue eyes.

"Freddie…" she whispered. "Don't you even…"

"Just say when."

And with officially losing his sanity, he tilted her chin further and pressed his lips carefully with hers.

A/N: Ohhh, I hope that ended okay, again. If there were any awkward parts, I'm sorry. As usual, I strive to keep the characters in-character. School's been hell for me these past two weeks, and I also had to finish college apps and other strenuous school-related activities. But I have NOT forgotten about iNeed You More, and that story WILL be updated tomorrow--if I don't finish the chapter tonight. Well, there's not much else for me to say but to please review and look forward to the next and last chapter.