AN: Happy New Year! (Well, almost!) Have a happy and healthy New Year! Honestly hope you enjoy this because it's definitely one of my favourites. It briefly follows off of iNose and iWindow and there are mentions of those oneshots throughout; why I didn't make them all a separate story is beyond me aha, but here we are and I hope this is a satisfying end to the arc and the year. See you in 2022, my lovelies.

Count

Carly had been planning a New Year's party for weeks now. With Spencer away for the night at Socko's, the group had the apartment to themselves. For days now, they'd been preparing for that night, buying snacks and drinks the day before, along with ordering more crazy hats and props for the photobooth. It was the party to end all parties – after all, this would be the gang's last New Year's party before going away to separate colleges in late August.

"And that's everything," Carly announced happily, admiring her work. She had decked the lounge and kitchen out with decorations, the Christmas tree made of metal still being the centrepiece of the lounge. The coffee table had been moved to make room for a makeshift dance floor that Spencer had made out of large planks of wood and glow in the dark neon paint. Then the kitchen counter and table were packed with plastic cups, beverages, and any snack they could think of. Especially for Sam, Carly had made sure to store a few dozen packets of bacon and various sandwich meats in case her best friend got hungry during the party. "Freddie, did you sort the music and the lights?"

"Check and check," Freddie said with a nod of his head.

Sam scoffed. "Check and check," she mocked, causing him to glare at her.

"Hey, no, we're not having any of that today," Carly huffed. "If I hear a peep out of either of you tonight, I'll be taking that fan's suggestion and handcuffing you two to each other for twenty-four hours."

"You wouldn't," Sam said, giving her friend a look.

"I guess you can't afford to find out," Carly smirked, putting her clipboard under her arm. "Now, the party starts in two hours, so if you'll excuse me, I'm going upstairs to get ready. Sam, your costume is in the studio. It arrived this morning. Do you know if Melanie's still coming?"

"No clue. She was visiting Uncle Carmine at the jail with Pam today, after spending last night at our Uncle Vince's," Sam told her. "You know, the only uncle and his wife who haven't been to jail in our family. She said she might stop by tonight, but she's flying back to Maine—"

"Vermont," Freddie corrected, rolling his eyes. The iCarly gang, plus Melanie, had hung out a few nights ago while they were discussing the party plans. Up to that point, Freddie was still pretty convinced that Melanie wasn't real. Even when him and Sam were dating, and he'd been to her house, he strongly believed she had asked Pam to mention her twin as much as possible just to keep up the pretence. Now, though, it was undeniable that she was alive; he had seen the two stand side by side the other day. Granted, he did almost pass out and Carly had to hold him up, but nevertheless, Melanie existed, and he did publicly apologise to Sam over not believing her.

"Vermont," Sam repeated with a glare, "early in the morning, so I doubt it."

Carly excused herself to get ready, as did Freddie a few minutes after. Unfortunately for him, though, Sam cleared his throat and looked at him. "So, we should probably talk about the other night."

"I stayed at yours," Freddie shrugged. "I don't see the issue with that."

"Okay…but when other people find out, they usually interpret a hetero-sleepover as, ya know, sexual! Sheesh, why did you make me say?" Sam grimaced. "That word is right up there with panties—Ugh!"

Watching Sam being so prude almost made him laugh. If she wasn't Sam Puckett, and he wasn't Freddie Benson, he probably would've. "Sure, they can interpret it in that way. You were asleep when I left that morning anyway."

"That's even worse!" Sam complained, rolling her eyes. "Sounds like we had some kind of one-night stand."

Freddie chuckled. "Let them think what they want to think, Sam. Plus, nobody's gonna find out, so what's the problem?"

"Carly…I think she knows." Sam let out a loud groan, faceplanting the couch. "She's been acting all weird with me, keeps mentioning that we should all have a sleepover again, and then saying something about a barbeque."

"Well, I think you should stop being so—"

"Don't you dare call me paranoid, Benson. I will cut your head off with a chainsaw."

"—I was going to say worried. Carly's always enjoyed the sleepovers we had as kids – and Spencer just bought that new grill last week, right?" Sam nodded. "Exactly. She's just suggesting things that are going to happen, not things that happened."

Carly appeared at the top of the stairs. "Hey, Sam, are you gonna wear that dress your ex got you tonight? With these shoes," she held up a pair of heels, "I think they'd look really nice. Hang on, I'll put the heels and tights here for you." Then she disappeared down the hall again, leaving Sam giving Freddie a look.

"Hey, that could be purely coincidental," Freddie reasoned. "She doesn't know we burnt all the stuff he gave to you and that you st—borrowed from him."

"I'm telling you," Sam said, unzipping her backpack. "She knows. Carly always knows."

.

By eight, the apartment was flooded with people – people from school, people from the internet and who ran other local web shows, people that Carly had invited during her numerous shopping runs because they were cute, and people they'd met along their way to web stardom. Gibby was telling a girl feel his biceps; Carly was filling up the punch bowl; Sam was laying on the couch, groaning as she felt a headache come on, and Freddie was chatting to a girl near the door.

"So, you, like, do all the camera stuff, right?" she giggled, twisting her hair around her finger. She placed her spare hand on his chest. "That's so cool!"

Awkwardly, Freddie stepped back and must've caught on to the flirting but hadn't said anything. "I'm behind the camera, the lights, and the sound effects. See, Sam's blue remote has this chip in which means I can—"

"Do you wanna go somewhere else?" she asked, cutting him off. "It's getting a bit loud in here."

Freddie, seeing that the conversation wasn't going anywhere, didn't want to continue it in another room without any other people, so he shook his head. "Sorry, I've got to go and talk to my friend—no, Sam! You can't eat that!" He rushed off to the blonde, who was trying to eat her way through the plastic apple. "It's plastic!"

"Then why does Spencer have it in the fruit bowl?" Sam grimaced, spitting the piece she had managed to chew through out. She sat up beside him, shoulders touching, and nodded towards the girl he had been talking to. Said girl, though, had found another guy to flirt with – Carly had invited enough of them. "What's going on with you and pigtails over there, huh? She seemed into you."

"I wasn't into her," Freddie said. "You know, I thought having a world-famous web show would mean I'd get to talk to nice girls who I could really have a connection with, you know?"

Sam frowned, discarding the apple. As somebody walked past, she stole a sausage roll right off their plate and it went into her mouth. "Carly always buys the cheap ones," she cringed, but swallowed it down. "Anyway, what were we—oh, yeah. Hey, are you only saying that like I understand because of that girl last year?"

"What? No. I completely forgot about that."

"Hm, good. Anyway, I'm gonna go and get some punch and try to forget that Carly knows."

"She doesn't—" he realised she wasn't interested in complaint and had walked away. She left him on the couch, where he wallowed in his own pity for a minute before venturing to find Carly through the people. She had to be somewhere amongst all these people. First, the lounge was too busy and too loud for him to locate her, so he guessed she was in her bedroom. Failing that, he checked the studio to find her setting up the table tennis table, surrounded by a few guests with brightly coloured plastic cups.

"Oh, hey, Freddie," she said. "Do you want a game? I've got to warn you that I'm not really good."

Freddie laughed. "That I highly doubt, Carls. Didn't you play in that tournament back in the ninth grade?"

"That was for charity, so I kind of had an excuse to be terrible. The more people betted on me to lose, the more money they made." Carly began to fish the rackets out from beneath the table. "So, do you wanna play?"

"I'll have to pass," Freddie said, rubbing his arm. "I think I hurt my arm earlier with, uh, all of this cup rising I'm doing." Carly rolled her eyes, and the two stepped out the way, allowing a team of four to play the game. Freddie had to admit, despite not knowing the rules of the game himself, they were quite good. The ball hadn't yet gone off the table. "Actually, Carls, I wanted to ask you about something."

Carly raised her eyebrows. "If you're going to ask me if it's too late for you to ever love me again, you know my answer hasn't changed, right?"

Embarrassed, Freddie shook his head. That statement had been taken entirely out of context to begin with. "No," he said with a sigh. "It's more about Sam." Her eyebrows furrowed at this. "So, uh, do you know?" he leaned closer.

So did she. "Know what?" she whispered back.

The look on her face was satisfying. She was confused, very confused, meaning she couldn't possibly know, right?

Freddie shook his head again. "Don't worry." Then he turned to walk out of the studio, spotting Sam in the hallway chatting with a few girls from their class. "Since when were you so social?" he asked.

She scoffed, and the other two girls entered the studio, leaving just Sam and Freddie alone in the hallway. "We're really left alone way too much at the moment," she pointed out, to which Freddie laughed. They made their way downstairs together, but he lost her in the crowd of people; this was by far the biggest party the trio had had so far. Carly, now, was also downstairs, having taken the elevator. She was passing out party hats and switched the music off for a second.

"Everyone, can I have your attention?" The room went silent for her. "Come and grab a crazy hat. The countdown to midnight is here, guys. Ten minutes!" A loud cheer erupted through the group, and Carly switched the music back on. Ginger's Fox famous hit Hate Me Love Me played next.

"Come dance?" Sam said, appearing at Freddie's side again. He nodded and took her hand, leading her to the makeshift dance floor, where the majority of people were either dancing or getting their beverages knocked by those who were dancing. It was a danger zone for beverages. Looking to her left, she saw the annual New York ball dropping playing on the muted TV. It was something her and her sister used to watch together every year, even if it had to be on Facechat instead of in real life, back when the two used to get along. "I heard what you said to Carly earlier."

Freddie hesitated. What had he said?

She took the pause as a chance to continue. "God, when did you ask her if it was too late for her to love you?" she asked. "I thought we had something going on here?"

"We do, Sam."

"But you're just going to be like all my other exes, right?" she continued. "Dating me to get a chance with my best friend."

"What, no, of course not, Sam."

"Then would you ask her that?"

"Because I needed to make sure it was finally over!" Freddie exclaimed abruptly, causing Sam to fall silent to his outburst. "And she clarified to me that it was. Plus, this happened, like, back in April, Sam, before anything between us ever happened again. Before you dated that jerk who shouldn't be named. When Gibby had opened that restaurant in the school basement. I needed Carly to tell me there was no hope in hell that we were getting back together – because then she couldn't say anything to me if we got back together, if something happened between us, if—"

Sam sighed. "Okay, I get it."

"I'd never jeopardise our potential relationship because of Carly," Freddie said. "Well, not again." Sam nudged him in the ribs, laughing. At her laugh, he laughed, too. "So, have you worked out if she knows yet?" Sam followed his eyeline, which led her right to said best friend. Still, she was excitedly handing out hats.

"I don't know, man. Maybe." She shrugged her shoulders. "If she does, she doesn't seem that bothered by it. Usually, she's mad at us for keeping stuff like this from her – you know, ever since that whole first kiss situation. I swear she still holds that against me. Oh, and you should've seen her face when I told her about the fight you got into—sorry, the fight you started." She smirked at him, and he rolled his eyes.

"She hasn't mentioned it to me."

"Well, of course she won't. She wants to see if you'll tell her first. We shouldn't keep things from each other because then this whole thing happens every time. I mean, I'm sure she's kept stuff from us, right?"

"Maybe." Freddie took her hand again. "Do you want to go back to the studio? It'll be less loud in there." She agreed, and they left for the studio. By the time they got there, the table tennis table was broken, and the room had cleared. With a smirk, Sam made a comment that the game was stupid anyway.

"I'm hungry. Can you grab me my super-secret stash of Fat Cakes from under that car?" Sam grinned. When he passed them over, they sat in silence for a minute – until they heard Carly's loud voice downstairs, beginning the ten second countdown to midnight.

Freddie stepped closer. "Sam—uh, would you—would you like to, maybe, platonically, you know…"

Sam laughed at his shyness. "Cat got your tongue, Benson?" she teased. However, she found herself stepping closer, too.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

"Gibbayyyyy!" their friend announced as he entered the room, causing them to break apart at once. He had a girl hanging off his arm, and she kissed his cheek, wishing him a happy New Year. Sam rolled her eyes, mad that they'd been interrupted. "Hey, guys. Have either of you seen my foot cream? I could've sworn I left it up here."

"No idea, Gibby," Freddie said with a loud sigh, disappointed. His words, though, came out quite harsh and impatient. "Sorry, didn't mean to snap like that. Maybe Carly put it in with all the props in the cupboard down the hall. I'll help you look." He thanked him, and they left together. Following an awkward staring contest between Sam and Tasha, she decided to cut her losses and leave as well. Maybe she'd be able to make it home in time for her mom's traditional New Year quesadillas. Her mom wasn't much of a cook, but since the twins had been kids, she'd always made them the same quesadillas as a kind of midnight snack on New Year. Through the years, though, Sam had begun to spend more and more time at the Bushwell, but her mom didn't stop making them. Instead, she'd keep them in a plastic container for her when she got home, or if Sam was lucky, there would still be a few left after her mom's boyfriend got there.

"Sam!" Carly called after her friend on the stairs. "Have you got a second to talk?"

"Sure," Sam said. "What's up?"

"Do you get why Freddie's acting so weird? We were in the studio earlier, and he was convinced I knew something or other. Please tell me what's going on. I think I'm going crazy."

Sam touched her shoulder sympathetically. "You're not going crazy. Benson's just acting a bit jumpy because we think you know about last night."

Carly frowned – and immediately, Sam must've seen the same look on her face that Freddie had seen: total and utter naivety and confusion. At once, she wished she could take her words back. "Know what?" she said. "Did something happen between you guys?"

"So, uh, he stayed over last night—but, like, totally in a platonic way! We burnt a few things," Sam told her. "Nothing happened, I swear. We barbequed a few of my ex's things, and then we just ended up falling asleep."

Carly eyed her friend. "And nothing happened?" A pause. "You guys didn't kiss behind my back again, did you?"

We've done a lot more than that—

"No, Carls. I promise that nothing like that happened." Sam gave her friend her pinkie finger. "Promise."

Carly sighed and linked their pinkies. "Okay, I believe you. But, hey, if you're so smitten with our friend Freddie," she nudged her with a grin, "did you two kiss at midnight? I feel like you would've done."

Sam paused.

No more secrets.

"Well, see, we were supposed to." Then before Sam could help it, she was gushing about how annoyed she was that they were interrupted. "God, stupid Gibby! Next time I see him, I'll handcuff him to a fire hydrant." Carly wanted to correct her but decided now was not the time. "I'm just so annoyed at that dork. Like, if two people were in a very intimate moment like that, why the chiz would you come in and—"

Carly swatted her shoulder, interrupting her flow. "What are you doing here then? You clearly you want to kiss him, so go and find your man!" Sam went to turn around, but Carly stopped her. "But if you guys do actually kiss, make sure to tell me." With the hype and approval from her best friend, she rushed up the stairs, hoping to find Freddie in the studio. Luck seemed to be on her side because when she looked up, there he was, standing in the middle of the studio.

Upon hearing the door open, he looked at her. "Hey."

"Hey," she repeated. "About earlier—"

"Do you want to kiss now?"

She was taken aback by his bluntness. Bluntness was not, after all, the "Freddie way." However, for once in her life, she was taken over by a girly giggle which must've powered through to her brain because she stepped forward and smiled at him. "Yes, yes, I would."

Freddie sighed, taking a second. "You know I have feelings for you, right?"

"I know," she clarified. "I like you, too."

A pause.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Sam grinned. "Close your eyes, Benson, and start leaning."

A second pause.

Simultaneously, the two counted, lips an inch apart.

"Five."

"Four."

"Three."

"Two."