AN-So this oneshot is actually composed of two requests. They were similar, but slightly different, so I thought it would be easier to just put them both together. This oneshot is a follow up piece to the oneshot where the gang went to the beach and Sam and Carly told Freddie about the rating system they use for guys.

Oh, and LimiRAe, you are totally correct about the Foxtrot reference!

...

Brass

"This video of you two girls interviewing this bottle of mustard is a big hit," Freddie said, looking on his laptop. "Over five hundred thousand hits, and I just put it on the website an hour ago!"

"Cool chiz," Sam said, putting on a pair of earrings as Carly applied another layer of lip gloss.

"Maybe this one will be even more popular of that last Idiot Farm Girl video," Carly said.

"Who knows," Freddie shrugged. "So where are you two going tonight?"

"That under 21 dance club," Sam replied. "You sure you don't want to come?"

"Nah, my mom's making me help her organize her dust ruffle collections," Freddie said. "You two have fun, though. That club's actually pretty fun."

"You've been there?" Carly asked.

"Yeah, he took my sister there on a date, remember?" Sam said. "And kissed her."

"Baby, are you ever going to let me live that down?" Freddie moaned. "I've told you a thousand times, I thought she was you! And you let me go on thinking it was you for three years!"

"Maybe one of these days," Sam grinned playfully. "I mean, Melanie did say you were a pretty awful kisser, so at least I know she's not interested in you."

"What?" Freddie frowned. "I'm not an-you know what, I'm not going to argue with that, it's just going to get me into trouble."

"Smart move," Carly laughed. She grabbed her purse. "Have fun with your mom tonight."

"Yeah, don't get too wild with those dust ruffles," Sam told him, giving him a quick kiss.

When Carly and Sam arrived at the club, they found themselves a table and ordered a few fancy soda drinks and a couple of appetizers.

"You know, I was thinking," Carly said, taking a sip of her drink. "After that total fall out with that 82 I met at the coffee shop last week, I think I'm going to lay off boys tonight. It's just not worth it. I'm here with my best friend and I'm going to enjoy myself."

"Carly, you say that at least once a month," Sam said, rolling her eyes. "And you last about five minutes and then you see some hot guy and you start rating him all over again."

"I'm serious this time," Carly said firmly. "So come on, let's go dance!"

"This is a stupid song though," Sam groaned. "It's one of those songs with those lame dances that are so popular for like, two months, and then they disappear."

"Yeah, so?" Carly said, grabbing her best friend's wrist and dragging her out to the dance floor.

The dance floor was packed of couples, large groups and even a few teens who were dancing by themselves.

"Sam, I think that guy over there is checking us out!" Carly suddenly squealed. "I'd say he's...oh, a 73, what do you think?"

"I thought you weren't going to have anything to do with guys tonight?" Sam said.

"I'm-I'm not," Carly said, unconvincingly. "You know, I'm sort of thirsty. All this dancing has really made me work up a sweat. Let's go to the soda bar."

"You just want to get closer to Mr. 73," Sam smiled knowingly.

"Oh come on, Puckett," Carly said, her face turning red. The girls made their way through the sea of dancing teens to a large counter top where several servers were taking orders from thirsty dancers.

"I'll have a diet Peppy Cola with lime," Carly said.

"Give me a root beer float," Sam said.

"Coming right up," the server said.

"I think that guy who just walked in is a total 90," a blonde girl next to Carly and Sam said to her group of girlfriends.

"No way," one of her friends said. "He's a 60, at best."

"You need your eyes checked, he's obviously a 75," said another girl.

"Hey, are they using our rating scale?" Sam asked Carly, frowning.

"Sounds like it," Carly said, taking a sip of her drink. "That's so cool! We've inspired people!"

"How do they even know about it?"

"I might've blogged about it..."

"We've really got to keep you away from the Internet," Sam chuckled, shaking her head as she took her root beer float the server had just slid across the counter.

"Hey, you know who's a total 100," the blonde girl continued. "That Freddie Benson kid from iCarly."

"Oh yeah, definitely," one of her friends nodded.

"Oh my God, what I would give to squeeze one of those huge biceps," a third girl squealed.

"Sam!" Carly said, quickly grabbing her friend as she slammed her root beer float down and raised a fist. She pulled her away from the soda counter.

"Why'd you do that?" Sam exclaimed once Carly released her, silently curing the promise she had made years ago to never hurt Carly. "I needed to pound those girls!"

"Sam, they didn't do anything wrong," Carly said.

"What? What do you mean they didn't do anything wrong? They're sitting there giving Freddie a perfect score with our rating scale!"

"You gave Freddie a perfect rating too," Carly pointed out.

"I'm allowed to! He's my boyfriend!" Sam said angrily.

"Oh what? So no other girl on the planet is allowed to think Freddie's attractive?" Carly asked, rolling her eyes.

"That's right," Sam nodded. "Now can I please go back over there and hurt those girls?"

"Sam, no, if you do your parole officer will just throw you in juvie and then you won't be able to see Freddie except on visiting days," Carly said firmly. "Look, there's no reason to be jealous. None of those girls are going to run and whisk Freddie off now and take him from you. You two have been dating for close to a year now. You know Freddie would never, ever, look at any other girl the way he looks at you. It's not healthy for your relationship to get jealous every single time a girl glances at Freddie. Now, I'd understand if Freddie was here and those girls were flirting with him to his face non-stop, but all they did was make a harmless observation about his attractiveness. Would you rather them had say that he was a 30 or something? It looks good for you that your boyfriend gets such high ratings. So how about you go back over there, finish your root beer float and then we can play a nice round of Help Carly Get the Cute 73's Number, okay?"

Carly finished her speech and looked hopefully as Sam, hoping she got her point across.

Sam was quiet for a minute, and appeared to be in deep thought. "I have brass knuckles at home from my Uncle Carmine. I can take a cab and be back here with them in twenty minutes."

"Did you not listen to a word I said?" Carly said, exasperated.

"Did you say something?"

"Ugh, you're impossible," Carly groaned. "Good, look. The girls are leaving."

"Man, and I didn't even get to put hot sauce in their drinks," Sam said.

The girls arrived back at Bushwell Plaza shortly after midnight. They let themselves into the Shay's apartment, where Freddie and Spencer were in the middle of playing What Am I?

"Am I flammable?" Freddie asked.

"Well...I've set it on fire," Spencer answered.

"That could be anything!" Freddie said, who's card read: jellybean.

"You guys realize how lame it is to be playing that game all night, don't you?" Sam asked.

"Yeah well, my hot girlfriend was out with her friend all night," Freddie grinned. "So after I helped my mom, I had to find something that could take my mind off her."

"Did it work?" Sam grinned, leaning over the the back of the couch.

"Nope," Freddie said, leaning in towards her.

"Hey! No flirting and kissing in the middle of the game!" Spencer yelled. "I think I'm really close to figuring out what I am!"

"You're a clown," Carly said, reading off the card on his forehead.

"And you're a jellybean," Sam told Freddie.

"Every time!" Spencer cried angrily, throwing his headband off. "You guys can't let us finish one lousy game!"

"Oh calm down," Carly laughed.

"I'm going to bed," Spencer said moodily. "I'm all depressed now. And no monkey business, you two!" He added to Sam and Freddie.

"So, you guys have fun tonight?" Freddie asked, putting his arm around Sam, who had taken Spencer's spot on the couch.

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "I chugged five root beer floats in under two minutes, which means my picture goes up on their wall of fame."

"It was a lot more fun once Sam stopped planning to beat up this group of girls," Carly said, taking off her heels.

"Why were you planning to beat up a group of girls?" Freddie asked Sam as Carly bid them both goodnight as she headed upstairs.

"They were annoying me," Sam said, getting up. "Hey, can you help me hack into Carly's blog and take down a post?"

"Um, no," Freddie frowned. "Why?"

"Because she put up that scale her and I made up for rating guys, and I don't think most of these crazy girls on the Internet are ready to handle it," she replied. "What makes you say that?"

"Because they clearly don't know how to use it properly," Sam said. "I mean, these deranged girls at the dance club tonight had the insane idea that you should get a 100."

"Really?" Freddie grinned cockily. "Cool."

"Do you want to find out how it feels to have my fist jammed up your nose?" she snapped.

"Oh come on, what's the big deal," Freddie said. "You told me that day at the beach that you gave me a perfect rating."

"For the tenth time, I'm allowed to!" Sam said. "Sam Puckett would look like a fool dating any guy less than a 100."

"Wait, is this why you wanted to hurt these girls?" Freddie asked.

"No..." Sam said lamely.

"Sam, that's crazy," Freddie smiled gently. "Don't get me wrong, I'm flattered, but still, it's crazy. I mean, do you have any idea what sort of things guys say about you?"

"What sort of things?" Sam asked hesitantly.

"Like that your crazy hot," Freddie said. "And that you look really good in those jeans with the rips in them and some other things I'm not going to mention because quite frankly they're sort of creepy."

"Guys really say that stuff about me?" Sam asked softly.

"All the time," Freddie nodded. "And you have no idea how jealous it makes me, but I know you'd knock out any of those guys if they tried anything, just like I know you know I'd tell any girl that hits on me, which truthfully, baby, hasn't happened since before we were dating, that I have a beautiful girlfriend."

"Yeah, I know," Sam mumbled. "Hey, I found Carly's blog with our scale on it."

"Wow, that's pretty elaborate," Freddie said, reading the screen.

"Hey," Sam said suddenly. "Rate me!"

"What?" Freddie laughed. "I thought this scale was for guys."

"It can go both ways," Sam shrugged. "Just tweak it a little."

"Fine," Freddie said. "I give you a 100."

"You're just saying that," Sam said, punching him in the shoulder.

"No I'm not," Freddie said sincerely, rubbing his shoulder.

"You're really giving me 10 out of 10 in every category?" Sam asked. "What about in personality? I'm aggressive and loud!"

"So? You're also sweet when you want to be," Freddie told her. "Like when you found that puppy in the park last week and gave it half your ham sandwich."

"It looked hungry," Sam mumbled. "But you can't seriously give me a 10 in wardrobe. I wear dresses like five times a year. The only reason I wore one tonight is because Carly threatened to start buying the low fat ham."

"I happen to think your clothes look very good on you," Freddie said. "I don't like it when girls wear weird things. It's better when they just look comfortable."

"Okay, but I can't get a 10 in facial structure," Sam continued. "My nose is totally off center!"

"Now you're just being crazy," Freddie said, rolling his eyes. "Look, Sam, we could go through each category, but there's no way I'm ever going to give you less than a perfect score in each one. Sure, maybe I'm biased because I'm your boyfriend, but you know what? In my eyes, you really are a perfect 100."

Sam smiled. "Gee, how long you been saving that corny line?"

"For awhile," Freddie grinned, leaning down to kiss her.

"Fredward Benson!" The apartment door swung open and Mrs. Benson marched in. "Do you have any idea what time it is? I try to give you the freedom you've been begging for, but when you stay out into the wee hours of the morning, giving your poor mother a heart attack wondering where you are, it's no wonder I'm so cautious of you!"

"Mom, I told you I was going to be here, right across the hall," Freddie sighed.

"You could still call!" she exclaimed. "Now come on, mister. A growing boy needs his sleep, though I really do think you should try and stop growing. You're getting too big for our matching sweater collection."

"I'll be there in a minute," Freddie said as Sam snickered.

"I'll have the clock running," Mrs. Benson said firmly as she left the apartment.

"Well that sort of killed the mood," he said.

"Doesn't she always?" Sam pointed out.

"True," Freddie agreed. He gave her a quick kiss. "I'd better go. I'll see you tomorrow, baby."

"Night," Sam said.

"Five seconds!" Mrs. Benson called from across the hall. "Move it! Now!"