Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly at all. If I did Creddie would NEVER EVER EVER happen. It would die a quick painful death. It would be all "I love you" and she would be "Well I don't so you should move on" and then he would mourn for like a season, but at the beginning of the next one he'd be "Okay. I moved on. I need someone who challenges me and you don't." and that would be that.

A/N:This is my first attempt at Seddie. Sam is kind of OOC in this story. I can't imagine her ever allowing herself to be this vulnerable, but it fit for this story. This is a one-shot. I'm testing the waters to see if you guys are receptive. I have a whole other story in the works if you like this one.

She Is 1/1

She's standing on the roof, hair blowing in the wind and you can't find it in yourself to look away, to speak, to do anything that could ruin this moment. It's moments like this that her tough girl veneer vanishes. In moments like this, you find yourself intensely drawn to her. These moments come very rarely and you've learned not to wait for them. Waiting for things that are so few and far between leads to nothing but disappointment.

You look back at your phone and imbibe the message one more time. Meet me on the roof. You don't get these texts often either. She only reaches out when she can't handle something. You often wonder why she doesn't turn to Carly in these confusing moments, but you never find a definite answer. Sam is Sam. She's unique. And you would never try to define her because you don't even know where to begin.

"I saw you." She doesn't even turn around, just keeps looking at the skyline. For a minute you're unsure she's spoken, but then she speaks again, "At the Groovy Smoothie I mean. I saw you dancing with Carly. You looked happy."

You feel like you can't speak. Words try to tumble out, but they're stumbling on your tongue and you're gagging on them. So you just look at her wordlessly and shrug. You owe her no explanations. She's not anything other than a sometimes, not quite, but somehow there friend. That's it. A friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

While you're convincing yourself of her 'strictly friend' status, she speaks again, "I don't even know why I came up here."

You exhale. You don't know why she's here either, except maybe you do, but you're not going there, "If you didn't need me for something then why did you text me? It's one in the morning. I should be home in bed."

She finally turns, looking at you with a depth you've only seen one other time. You see the red around her eyes. She's been crying. "Maybe I should just go."

You open your mouth to reply, this is a crossroads you know. If you tell her to stay, if you stay up here with her, you're going to open a door you've never even fathomed opening before. If you let her go you can both save face, pretend this never happened, and go on the well worn path you're on. It's a big decision and as she breezes past you to go to the stairs you decide.

"Wait," you hear yourself saying. She turns and looks at you expectantly. Suddenly everything is awkward and you find yourself at a loss for words again. You rack your brain for a response.

She beats you to it. "You clean up pretty okay Fredward."

You don't want to go there; you don't want to regress to that comfort zone. You're not up here to be Sam and Fredward. Damn it! She called you up here. She needed you. She can give you some damn respect. "Freddie. My name is Freddie."

She looks at you with an unreadable expression. "Okay, Freddie." She looks at her shoes.

You feel compelled to compliment her. She does look beautiful tonight. "So do you."

She coughs and turns away and you can almost swear that you see a blush on her cheeks, but it is one in the morning and the night plays tricks on even the sharpest of eyes. You write it off.

She's looking at you again and in that moment you know she's vulnerable. The slight shake of her hands shows that she knows too. "What do you see when you look at me Freddie?"

It should be simple enough to answer, but you know more than ever that this is a loaded question. It's another turning point. You're so close to going down that untraveled path, so close to opening that new door. "I seeā€¦" You can't finish the sentence. This moment is too defining.

She averts her eyes and nods, "Yeah. I shouldn't have come."

She opens the door and starts down the stairs, but something jumpstarts in you. You're angry. You follow her yelling, "What do you expect me to say Sam?"

She turns to look at you, "I expect you to say something. I expect you not to stand there and stutter."

"It's a hard question Sam."

"No. No it's not." She moves again, but you grab her arm. She looks from your hand to you with part disgust and part wonderment. "If Carly asked you this question you would wax poetic for hours."

You're still angry. How dare she pressure you? You pull her up the stairs until she's directly in your face, "You're not Carly though."

Sam recoils as if you've slapped her. She snatches her arm away. "No. I'm not." She hugs herself. "And I never will be."

You find yourself speaking, "No. You're Sam. And that's good too." You watch her shake slightly, like she's trying to hold in whatever emotion is threatening to overwhelm her. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I saw you!" She yells and you just stop, "I will never make you feel like that. I will never be a major moment in your life. I'll always be just Sam. Always Sam."

Your anger dissipates. "But you are a major moment." You can't bring yourself to look her in the eyes. You're the one that's vulnerable now and you don't like it. When it's like this with Carly you're so used to the rejection that it's like second nature to be vulnerable to her. But with Sam it just seems wrong. You're used to Sam turning the tables and using your weakness against you. Only now you're in the same situation. You're both in the same place, "You will always be the first girl I kissed."

Sam smiles softly. "Yeah. And you'll always be the first boy I kissed."

"Isn't that enough?" You ask her, but you never expect what she says.

She smoothes your hair and shakes her head, "No."

"And why not?"

She sighs and leans against the wall, "Because it won't be." She looks longingly down the stairs at the elevator. You know she's absolutely itching to escape, but her hand is on your arm, she's still shaking, and you know it's taking every ounce of willpower she has not to run and pretend this never happened. She looks at you and your heart stops. "I don't want to be just your first kiss. That's not enough."

"Why isn't it enough?" You ask, head turning sharply in her direction. "What the hell do you want from me Samantha?"

Her head snaps up at the mention of her full name. "Don't call me that."

You roll your eyes and start to move down the stairs again. "Whatever Sam. I should have never come up here. This is just unnecessary drama." He gets to the door that will lead into his hall and pauses, "And I don't know what's worse."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I don't know how to deal with whatever the fuck this is. I don't know how to deal with this Sam. I don't know what to think of this version of you." You say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You don't look back at her. You're not going to look back at her.

You hear her sigh and her footsteps come closer. Her hand rests tentatively on your shoulder and you know she wants you to face her. Only you can't bring yourself to do it. This isn't how things are supposed to go. It's supposed to be this kind of confusing with Carly. And Sam is most definitely not Carly. Only instead of that being comforting it makes all of this ten times worse because, for the first time in your unwavering devotion to Carly Shay, someone might actually mean something similar to you.

Not the same though, they'd never be the same. Carly is all frills and bows, something to be adored and handled with care. Not to say that Carly is fragile because she's not, but you're supposed to treat her like a princess. When you love a girl like Carly you remember anniversaries, birthdays, holidays, and just everything. She's high strung and devoted. She expects the same level of devotion from you. Only you've never gotten a chance to see if your expectations are true with Carly because this is all a one sided thing.

Girls like Sam...Girls like Sam scoff at romance even though they secretly want it. And they hate it when you handle them gently. They're all about the rough and tumble of it all. They want you to give them all you've got until they can't take it anymore and they don't want you to hold back anything. They take it all. The good, the bad, and the ugly. They're low maintenance with low expectations. They're spontaneous and they live in the moment. You find yourself wondering if being with a girl like Sam would be so bad.

You shrug her hand off your shoulder and turn to look at her. This is going to be the only time you're this honest with her. This will be the only time that you're going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that she's finally gotten to you. This cryptic mess is going to end now. "What do you want from me Sam?" She opens her mouth to speak, but you know she's going to be cryptic again so you put your hands on her shoulders and look her in the eye, "I don't want to hear excuses. I don't want to hear about how you shouldn't have come here. And I sure as hell don't want to hear about how I don't look at you the way I look at Carly. I just want to hear what the fuck you want from me."

She looks shell shocked, but your cursing brings her out of it.

"You cussed," she says softly, a smile gracing her lips.

"Stop changing the subject and tell me what you want from me or I'm going back inside." You warn her, shaking her a bit for emphasis.

When she doesn't punch you for "manhandling" her you realize that this is some serious shiz and mentally prepare yourself for the news that her mother died or Spencer's in the hospital. She opens and shuts her mouth repeatedly and it occurs to you. As much as you don't know what this is about, she doesn't seem to know either. She deflates. The spark goes from her eyes and her shoulders slump, "I don't know Freddie."

You don't think you've ever heard her sound more defeated. You don't know this Sam. The Sam you know would have clocked you by now. The Sam you know would have never let herself be this vulnerable. "Sam you do. You have to have some reason for wanting me to come out at one in the morning to talk. You said it was important. What is it?"

And that's the thing. You think you know now. You think you know exactly what this is about. If you're right though, then this conversation will change everything. You don't know if you're ready for that.

You're about to tell her to forget it when she slams her fist into the wall, fire coming back into her eyes. You know she's not going to let you go until she says what she has to say. This is the Sam you know. "Freddie I don't want to be just your first kiss." You motion for her to continue and she slaps your hand away, "And I sure as hell don't want Carly to be your last. Get over her. Let her go. She doesn't want you. She's never going to want you and you're just sitting around like some loyal, imbecilic little puppy hoping that his master will throw him a bone before long. Carly is never going to throw you the proverbial bone okay?"

You're mad. What right does she have to dictate your feelings to you?! You grab both of her hands in yours to keep yourself from pushing her up the stairs. "What does it matter to you Puckett?" You press her into railing behind her and snarl, "What right do you have to say who I should give up on? I don't see anyone else being hurt by me loving Carly."

"Well then you're freaking blind!" She exclaims wildly, trying to twist out of your grip.

You don't let her. And as you watch the anger take over her features you're overcome with that same urge you had when you just wanted to get rid of the hoopla that surrounded your first kiss. "Stop." You command and to your surprise she does. She looks at you angrily, but you see through it. You see the vulnerability and you find yourself pulling her into you, arms wrapping around her waist. You lean in and look for permission. She bites her lip and nods. You smile and bring your lips to hers.

She runs her hands through your hair, pulling you closer. She's amazingly responsive. Her body presses against you in all the right places and you feel yourself getting excited. There are firecrackers going off in your head. This feels right. If you were one of those cheesy cinematic types of guys you would suppose this would be the moment in the movie where you realized that forever was right in front of you.

You pull her hair so that she offers up her neck and you kiss your way down it like a man on a mission. You have no idea what you're doing, but you keep going, keep kissing her neck til you've left your mark. It probably won't fade for weeks and you vaguely wonder if she'll keep it there or cover it up with that concealer shiz that Carly keeps buying her. She's gasping for air and making the tiniest of sounds in the back of her throat. You think it's quite possibly the sexiest thing you've ever seen.

She pulls your head up and captures your lips again. It's wonderful and your whole body is going hot and cold, warm and cool. This is the best thing to ever happen to you in almost sixteen years of life. You keep kissing her. She bites your lips and you gasp in pleasure. Nothing you've ever experienced has ever felt like this.

As you slowly break away, leaving kisses on each other's lips that linger and tingle you finally realize what she wants is you.

A million thoughts race through your brain at the realization, but the biggest brainwave coming your way in all of this is that you want her too.

Jumping from one boat to another is a funny thing. Especially when you realize that you've been straddling them ever since you kissed her for the first time. You look at her and you smirk. You're all in for whatever this is between the two of you.

You'll probably fight. You'll probably have the most explosive fights in all of Seattle. She'll break things and you'll stand your ground. You'll talk and talk until you make her listen and she'll do the same to you. It's not going to be easy, but you find that you want this; you want her more than anything. You've been overprotected and sheltered all your life. You need reckless. You need dangerous. You need Sam. And as much as the realization shocks you, you accept it.

You're brought out of your reverie by the snapping of fingers in your face. "Benson?" She looks worried. You must look more dazed than you thought.

You grab her hand mid snap and head up the stairs. She follows behind you asking every question in the history of the universe, "Why are we going back on the roof? Did you hit your head or something? Why aren't you talking? What are we doing?" She's becoming indignant and for the first time in all the time you've known her you find it endearing.

"Trust me." You say softly, rolling your eyes as she continues to ask questions that somehow turn into threats. This is normal. This is Sam. And this is who you want.

As you get on the roof you bring her to stand in front of you, wrapping your arms around her middle and resting your chin on her shoulder. "Just watch."

She leans into you, going quiet as the first signs of sunlight peek over the horizon. "Did we really just talk for over five hours?" She asks as she watches in wonderment.

You chuckle slightly and roll your eyes, "I believe there was a lot more fighting than talking involved."

"And kissing." She reminds you, distracted by the sunrise. "Why did you bring me up here?"

You shrug your shoulders. You don't want to tell her that this is the beginning. That this sunrise feels like the beginning of the rest of your lives. "I don't know."

As the sun settles in the sky she turns toward you, "You know I don't do all that mushy couple stuff right?"



"Shut up."