Yay – more words! More than a little inspired by a scene from Everwood. (Which I, coincidentally, also do not own.)

Enjoy. :]

"Like, is watered-down love. Like is mediocre. Like is the wishy-washy emotion of the content."

No, I don't want to say goodnight.

He wasn't exactly sure how he ended up at her door at nine-o-clock at night, but nonetheless, there he stood, tapping his foot anxiously and running his hands through his hair.

She opened the door, with a blank expression waiting expectantly for him to actually say something – or contemplating whether or not she should slam the door in his face.

"So, I've been thinking about what you said the other day at the Groovie – and it's true, okay? I have dropped the ball on our friendship these past couple weeks. And I'm really sorry I missed your showcase-"

"Freddie-"

"And, I figured hey– why not come over and bring the ball over to you," he pressed on, and she just squinted at him. "...I probably should have brought an actual ball to help with the metaphor."

"You're an idiot," she answered, simply.

"I know."

She sighed, and nodded, answering his unasked question, grabbing her jacket from the coat rack behind her.

He extended his hand out in front of him, motioning for her to pass him after she locked the door.

"I'm still mad at you."

He nodded, with a smile and followed her down the porch steps. "I know that too."

...

"One more minute?" he whispered.

Sam took a breath, shifting her weight on the bean bag chair. "It's late," she answered back, their foreheads just barely touching and the warmth from his breath still on her face.

He rested his hand on her side, as if keeping her in place. "I don't care."

"Freddie," she was half pleading now – half trying not to melt into a puddle on the iCarly studio floor. "It's after midnight."

No need to make this any harder than it needed to be.

"I know what time it is, Sam."

She looked at him and shook her head out of the ridiculous daze she found herself in. "Yeah, now you know what time it is," she shot back, weakly.

A hint of a smile played on his lips and without thinking, she rested her head on his shoulder as she laid back.

"You know Crazy's going to kill you, right?"

He bent down, brushing her hair off her shoulders. "I think I'll risk it," was his soft reply.

Well, okay then.

...

He looked up, absently, as they continued walking, Sam's free arm linked with his (for warmth, of course) the other holding her salted pretzel they'd stopped for.

"Wanna bite?" she asked, naturally not bothering to swallow before she did.

He laughed and shook his head. "No thanks."

She looked down at the pavement before turning her head to face him. "So, where's the lovely Miss Swan tonight?"

"I think she and Wendy were working on a project," he answered, shrugging, lightly. He met her eyes again. "How come? I mean we don't do everything together."

Just giving him her typical Sam eye roll in response, she took another bite of her pretzel. "Eh, I actually think it's kind of sweet."

He blinked. "You do?"

"Yes," she nodded, pulling him towards the park entrance. "Revoltingly, sugar coma inducingly so."

"You know, I don't think that's an actual word."

"Shut up."

...

"Okay," Sam looked at him seriously, and he nodded, bracing himself for the question.

"Would you rather eat a handful of hair or lick three public telephones?"

He laughed soundlessly, while she moved her thumb over his, counting to five in her head. "Depends. Whose hair?"

"Does it matter?" she asked, tilting her head up with a laugh of her own.

"Well," he pressed on, "if it was my own, I guess I'd have to say that one."

"Alrighty then." She fought back a smile; of course Freddie would try to impose logic onto the game. "Your go."

She watched him hum in thought and found herself stifling a yawn. "Would you rather have three eyes or webbed feet?"

"Webbed feet. Easy," she whispered, turning her body to lean on her side. "I'd just wear rain boots all the time."

He smiled. "What about during the Summer?"

"What? It rains in the Summer..."

"Yeah, but if it was really hot and–"

"Dude – don't." She shook her head. "Just don't."

He angled himself as well, now facing her––their legs almost locked in some awkward position that should have been uncomfortable but wasn't. "Tired?"

"Yes," she answered, truthfully.

He tugged at the hem of her shirt. "One more game?"

She took a long breath.

"Sure."

...

He brushed his feet against the dirt lightly to stop moving, holding onto he metal chains of the swing and turning to her. "Don't kill me for saying this – but it doesn't really seem like you're too into the guy."

When she didn't say anything – or even resort to a glare – he figured it was safe to go on. "Which kind of makes me wonder–"

She sighed and finally made eye contact with him. "Why I'm seeing him?"

He nodded.

"We have fun, I guess," she mused. "And it's...uncomplicated. I mean, I don't see myself marrying the kid..."

"So, he's not The One?"

"Uh, yeah," she laughed dryly, and buttoned the top button of her denim jacket, "no such thing."

"I don't believe that, Sam," not even exactly sure himself where his certainty was coming from.

"Why, Benson?" She smiled and nudged him, gently. "Is Amy yours?"

"I..." He stopped, considering the question. He liked her; he knew that much. They had things in common, rarely fought...being with her was easy. "I'm not sure."

Moving her bangs out of her face, as the breeze passed over them, she clicked her tongue and took a breath.

"He asked me to be his girlfriend, last night. Like, officially."

His eyes widened at her and she just shrugged, looking straight ahead again, dangling her feet.

...

"Lie to me."

He smiled and looked up, thinking. "I've won the Noble Peace Prize in both literature and science. Three times."

"I'm the President of the American Wicker Council," she informed him, beaming.

"I once had two pet llamas." He leaned towards her with a grin. "I named one Al."

She smiled. "I think Gibby is a completely normal human being."

"Sam," he mock chastised, and she caught the quick glance he took towards the clock over their prop car.

"I," he stopped and locked his brown eyes with her hers, "had a horrible time these past few weeks."

She licked her lips, his eyes still daring her to look away. "You, were the most inconsiderate boyfriend."

"And you," he smiled softly at her, "were the worst girlfriend ever."

She cleared her throat, needing to look away, and sat up straight. "You, uh, you really should get home."

He mirrored her movements and got up as well, as she placed her leather jacket on her lap.

They finally stood up and he shoved his hands in his pockets. "What about you though? It's late and-"

She smiled and extended a hand out to interrupt him. "I'll just crash on the couch."

"Okay."

He looked down for a second, before he leaned in towards her, speeding up her heart rate to an impossibly fast rate. For a second, she thought he was going to kiss her and she closed her eyes, pretty sure she let out an uncharacteristically girly whine.

His lips hovered over hers for what she deemed way too long (and not long enough) before they brushed past the corner of her mouth, and kissed her cheek.

"Good night."

She opened her eyes, paralyzed to move. "'Night, Benson."

He nodded and slowly backed away towards the elevator. "One more lie?" he asked as it opened.

"Lay it on me."

"Hate you."

She blinked and looked down as he stepped inside. "Yeah, me too."

...

"I think you're wrong," he told her matter-of-factly.

She rolled her eyes at him, as he expected. "Yeah, that's new." She faced him and sighed with a tired smile. "About what this time?"

"About 'The One' – having a soul-mate. Knowing when something's right." Her eyes narrowed at him and she opened her mouth to speak, but he kept going.

"Look, I don't know if it's Parker or whoever, but I promise you, Sam? There is someone out there who's going to be perfect for you."

She scoffed. "I don't know about that."

"Well, I do."

"Yeah?" She looked down at her feet and then back up at him with a half smile. "And what makes you so sure?"

He answered with the first thing that came to mind. "Because it's you."

She held his gaze for a beat before clasping her jacket tighter around her.

"Do you want to head back?"

She ran her hand through a loose curl, eyes focused up at the sky before she turned her head to him. "Just a little while longer."

Smiling, he zippered his own jacket and then looked back at her. "Lie to me."

I know it's time to leave, but you'll be in my dreams, tonight.

Thanks so much again for the kind words, guys. Seriously. Hopefully this chapter didn't fall short. More sugar-coma inducing sweetness to come.

Stay tuned. :)