Disclaimer: I own nothing...

Carly looked up from putting the fire extinguisher away. First, Freddie ran out the door without saying a word to her. Sam followed soon after, not even registering that her best friend was in the room. Then Spencer shuffled down the stairs, his hair still covered in foam.

"Spencer, weren't you supposed to get a towel?"


"Where is it?"

He shrugged.

"Why did Sam and Freddie leave?"

Suddenly, he snapped into Secret-Agent mode. Before telling her, he made sure the door was locked and then pulled her over to the kitchen. "You're not gonna believe me, but I swear it's true."

"What happened?"

"I think Freddie was about to kiss Sam."

He waited for her shocked/terrified/amazed expression, but Carly just seemed extra-excited.


"And? That's all you can say? Your two best friends who've hated each other since the beginning of time, or at least since they were born, I don't really know. Hey, do you think--"

"Spencer, tell me what happened!"

"Nothing! I walked in and they stopped and got all embarrassed and then they left."

Carly's jaw dropped. He had to be kidding. After all this hard work...nothing? She took a glass of water and dumped it on his head.

"HEY! What was that for?!"

"For interrupting! I spent this whole week trying to get them together, and when they almost do you WALK IN THE ROOM? How could you?!"

Spencer rubbed water out of his eyes, hoping his head wouldn't spin off in confusion. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize it was a crime to look for a towel in my own apartment!"

Carly sighed deeply. "That was the closest they'd gotten all week. Now they probably won't talk to each other again."

"Why not?"

"Awkwardness, Spencer! How old are you? Did you forget how klutzy teenagers are?"

Carly stomped off to her room, leaving poor Spencer wondering just how he'd gotten her so mad. And if he'd gotten any gray hairs.

It didn't matter how much she ate. Sam did not gain a pound. And Freddie would not leave her mind.

Maybe if she broke something...like an arm...like a dork's arm...

While she searched for Gibby's phone number, she came across a grayish, moldy lump under her bed. That stupid meatball. She never ate it. Who knew why. But it was still there, eyeing her, laughing at her sole insecurity: that idiot tech nerd who couldn't have just accepted the meatball and moved on with his life. No. He had to kiss her.

So. Many. Stupid. Flashbacks.

"Why is this even happening?" Unfortunately, Gibby's phone number eluded her, so she settled with throwing a hairbrush across the room. He was a dweeb! A geek! A wimp! A girl!

Sam growled and tried to resist the urge to pull out her hair. Unless that would get rid of the memories.

Freddie could not stop smiling. Yes, he hadn't gotten his kiss; yes, Sam would probably avoid him for the next three years; but at least he knew. He knew he affected her, even if it was just a little. Otherwise he wouldn't be alive to tell the tale of their almost-kiss.

"Mom, I think things are looking up!" he said happily.

"Fredward, dear, don't ever look up. The sun could burn your eyes out!"

Sam took a deep breath and knocked on Freddie's door. The tech producer himself answered, surprised to see her.


"Hey." Now that she was here, she didn't think she'd be able to pull this off. But maybe...just maybe... "Listen. Carly was just talking to me. She said--for the good of iCarly, ONLY--that we should go on one date, and videotape it, and put bits of it on the show."



Freddie smirked and leaned back against the door. "Okay. So ask me."


"You heard me. Carly didn't tell me to go on the date, she told you. Which means you've got to ask me out."

"That makes no sense, you nub!"

"Sure it does. But if you don't think so, I guess I'm going back inside..."

Why exactly was she doing this again? "Okay, fine! Date me or I'll beat you up."

Freddie thought over it. He considered making her sugarcoat that a little, but it was Sam. She really wasn't going to get any nicer.

"Alright. When are you picking me up?"

"Don't. Push. It."

He laughed. "Whatever. Where are we going?"

"I don't care, as long as it's got food."

"Taco Schmaco?"


"Cool, I'll see you then. Oh, and by the way, Sam?"


"You really are a good liar. Carly called like ten minutes ago, said Spencer told her what happened, and told me she wasn't going to force us to do anything."

He closed the door.

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