A/N: This isn't totally my fault. You see, I was eating peanut butter, and I spilled it on my keyboard. Then, my dog, let's call him BoB, came up and started licking the peanut butter. His saliva short circuited my computer. Thus, my dog ate my story. And if any of you believed me, I'm sorry, but there's something wrong with you. Kidding. Anyway, I'm going to try to finish this story, but no promises.

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. If I did, you'd probably forget about it by the time the next episode came out.

I had always pictured my second kiss with Freddie being magical. In the most literal sense possible. Because in my mind we would usually be riding unicorns, or I would be a mermaid, and he would be my sailor. For, you see, in my realistic mind, the only way he would ever kiss me (aside from 'getting it over with') was in a fantasy.

Sometimes it's good to be wrong.

Not often. But, you know…Sometimes.

This was definitely one of those times.

He pulled away ending my probable hallucination. Wait, no. This is real, remember. "Uh…You…You…Um…Yeah…Thank you?" For a certified genius, I am so dumb.

He smirked. I hate that. "'Thank you?' Really? That's the best you can do. I mean, I think I deserve a standing ovation. Not just a 'thank you'."

"Ha ha. Hilarious." I can't believe he was joking at a time like this. I was freaking out! And he wants to tease me about wording!? Wait. Teasing's good. That's how we are. We're getting back to normal. Right? If he didn't say something soon, I think my head was going to explode. "I guess I'll just go. I got a lot of stuff to pack. Moving to Morocco and all. So, um…Adios?" (A/N: I'm not sure what language is spoken in Morocco. If anyone tells me how to say goodbye, I'll change that. (For all I know it could be Spanish. *shrug*)) I turned once again to the door.

"Nuh uh. No way. You are not getting off that easily, Sam. Sit. Now. And talk." He pointed at the plastic-covered couch. I sat. The couch squeaked. He sat, too. It squeaked, again. If my brain weren't on the verge of eruption, I would have laughed. But, I it was. So, I didn't.

I stared at him.

He stared at me.

I didn't blink.

He didn't blink.

It had been thirty seconds.

Neither of us blinked.

His eye twitched.

I stayed stoic.

Thirty seconds turned to a minute.

My eyes were drying out.

Then…

He blinked.

I had won.

"Chiz! How do you do that?!"

"Years of practice." And suddenly, it was as if the past however-long-it-was had never happened. It was amazing how we could read each other so well. A staring contest. A silent staring contest that neither of us had said we were having, but we both knew, anyway.

And then I realized something else. There was at least one thing the same between me and well…me.

I always beat Freddie. No matter what.

And, I think he knew it, too.

He smiled.

I smiled.

He smirked.

I smirked.

"Sam, you may have lied to me. A lot. But, in a way, you weren't, were you? Not about the most important things." I tilted my head, confused. "You may not think you're tough. But, you are. If you weren't, even the fake you wouldn't be able to do what she did. And, you wouldn't have had the guts to come here and finally tell the truth, no matter how I would respond. You're confident in what you do, but not in who you are. You weren't confident enough to be the real you, but you were confident enough to do everything you have done. Whether it was part of the façade or not. And so what if you're girly? You're a girl. That's how you're supposed to be. But, it's only the clothes, right?" I nodded silently. "You're not the wimpy, scared, high-pitched screaming, giggling, 'Oh, I broke a nail,' kind of girl that people think of when you say 'girly-girl'. You're fearless – except of what people think – , you're confident – except in who you are – , and you're tough. Always. Whether it be the real you or the fake you. You are who you are on the inside. What you portray in the outside doesn't matter."

I didn't know what to say. He had just given a…well…moving speech. But I couldn't move. I couldn't think. The only thing going through my mind was: He's right. Freddie Benson is right. And, I was wrong. And, I'm tough. And, I'm confident. And…And…I'm real. Over and over and over.

And over and over and over.

And over and over and over.

And over.

My mouth hung open. My eyes were wide. And, I couldn't stop staring at him.

And, he couldn't stop staring at me.

"So, what does this mean? Do you forgive me? Do…Do you…" Don't ask, Sam. DO NOT ask! "Do you love me?" Why don't you ever listen to yourself? You wouldn't be in this mess if you just listened to yourself! You could have been in Morocco by now! You could have been –

"Yes. I do."

"What?" Don't act dumb! Seriously, how could anyone mistake you for a genius?!

"I said yes."

He stared at me.

I stared at him.

He moved closer.

I moved closer.

His nose touched mine.

My nose touched his.

He breathed in.

I breathed in.

He said, "I love you."

I said, "I love you."

He kissed me.

And, I kissed him back.

A/N: Well, it's finally done. Sort of. If I ever get around to it, I'll do an epilogue with Sam confronting Carly. We'll see. Anyway, I hope it was good enough. My confidence in this story is like way down, right now. So, R&R. Hasta luego, SheriffBoB.

P.S. I'd really like to finish up iAm Invisible within the next month or so. So, if anyone reviews that, I might actually update. Hopefully. You know, writer's block and whatnot. But, it would still really help.