Let's see, I don't own: iCarly, Battlefield, Jordin Sparks, an iPad, a turtle, a scooter… anything else you need to know?


Don't try to explain your mind I know what's happening here
One minute it's love and suddenly it's like a battlefield

He stood opposite his door glaring at her, but he wasn't really glaring rather than pleading with her though he wasn't sure any of it was getting to her as she leaned against the red door, her hand clasped around the knob. She had already given up.

"I can't do this," she stated plainly, without the smallest bit of remorse in her voice.

His glare intensified, "Sam, you're not even trying."

"Well what do you want me to say? That I'm sorry? Fine then, I'm sorry!"

He stood his ground. "No you're not," he spat.

Her grip around the knob tightened draining her knuckles of blood. "Benson…" she growled.

He shook his head. He knew she hated when he pointed things out that proved him right but there was no way he would let her walk away—not again. "You aren't, but I don't care about that I just want to understand what's going on! I let it go the first, second, and billionth time. Not anymore—we're ending this nonsense." Her eyes seemed to be glued to the window in the living room and just by staring into them he could tell it was starting to rain. He took a deep breath, "Don't you think we should talk about this?"

She slowly deferred her eyes from the outdoors as she turned on her inner thunderstorm for the brunet boy in front of her. She let out a small chuckle, though it struck him more like a cackle. "'Talk about this'? Do I look like a psychiatrist? I' m not your deranged mom okay, I'm not gonna sit around the table with a cup of organic tea and give you my life story."

He scoffed, "You may not be my mother but you are definitely deranged."

She narrowed her eyes and he smiled. That's one of the things he liked about her, she spoke with her eyes before even opening her mouth, which was good considering she didn't always use the nicest of words. "Oh really, well then what am I still doing here? I should be on my way to the mental hospital!" She opened the door and made her way out like nothing had been going on inside.

My world's nothing when you don't
I'm not here without a shield; can't go back now

He groaned—oh how she liked to push him. He grabbed her free hand to pull her back inside messing with her balance so that by the time she thought to fight back, he had already slammed her against the now locked door. Any other girl would have possibly cried and he would have felt eternally awful. But this was Sam Puckett. She slapped him, not enough to bruise, but to remind him that she was still in charge and he'd just gotten lucky with that ordeal.

He loosened his jaw as he shook the sting away and leaned his arms against her shoulders. "Fine, you don't want to talk? We'll yell! What the hell set you off this time, huh?"

"I don't know!" She shoved him off of her. "Being in the same room with you sets me off. Makes me want to run around and destroy everything in my path and then turn around and be by your side as you build it back up." For a few seconds he maintained eye contact as he let her words sink in. He almost started to smile when she closed her eyes and added, "Do you know how internally conflicting that is?"

He threw up his hands, "Of course it's conflicting that's what falling in lo"—

She violently pointed her finger at him, "Don't you dare finish that sentence."

He laughed, "See, there's your problem! Maybe we wouldn't be here if you could at least live with the very obvious fact that you're in lo"—

"I swear Benson you try to say those words again and I'm out of here." She unlocked the door.

He raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, "You step out of this house Puckett and I'm never talking to you again."

He flinched as the door smacked close and the blonde disappeared. First rule of Sam-ism, you don't give her ultimatums.

Both hands tied behind my back with nothing, oh no
These times when we climb so fast to fall again

Freddie lightly knocked on the door and opened it when he heard Spencer's "Come in!" Followed by Sam, he made his way to the couch where Spencer sat fully immersed into something on the TV.

"Hey, where's Carly? We need to pre-shoot something for iCarly," Freddie asked as he set his equipment on the chair.

"Shhh, she's not here," he stage whispered.

"As in, not home?"

"Shhhhh; no no she's home."

Freddie and Sam glanced at each other. "Spencer!" Sam chucked one of the pillows at him.

"What? She's upstairs taking a shower!" He groaned and then suddenly lit up as if struck by an idea, "Hey! Can you guys watch this for me? Because I need to go, so I was going to leave during the commercial but it doesn't seem to have a commercial but I really have to go but I really want to watch it so how about you make yourselves useful and watch it for me? Ok, thanks bye!"

Freddie laughed and took his spot on the couch. "Yeah, sure why not?" He said to the already long gone Spencer.

Sam crashed next to him, "This better be interesting or next thing I know you'll be putting your arm around me."

Freddie motioned to his arms collapsed on his sides, "I wasn't planning on it; I'm not that stupid you know."

"Of course you're not stupid, you're a nerd," she laughed at her own joke.

"I'm gonna go ahead and take that as a compliment."

"Good, that saves me the trouble of actually having to come up with a real compliment for you."

He couldn't help but smile at her and to stop herself from smiling back she focused her attention onto what ever they had promised Spencer to mentally record for him. Within a few minutes her eyes were already drooping. "Man this thing sucks! It's almost worse than school—knocking me out like some noxious gas."

"Well don't fall asleep or next thing I know your head's all over my shoulder," he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Not in this lifetime." Though her smile said otherwise. "And I thought you were 'never talking to me again'?"

"One of these days, I'll mean it Sam…" he said it as more of a tease than a warning so she just rolled her eyes and subconsciously inched a bit closer to him.

But before they could get any more comfortable, Carly spoke from behind them. "What's going on here?" she teased.

"Nothing," Sam quickly said as she practically launched herself to the other side of the couch.

"…much," Freddie winked.

"No, nothing at all," Sam clarified eyeing him.

Freddie rolled his eyes, it's not like he expected her to sit on his lap and post it on the internet or something. "Whatever, let's go shoot this Giant Girls Crushing Seattle bit."

He stood up to grab his equipment only to see Sam walk past him towards the door. "Uh, where you going?"

"I think I'm gonna go home, I'm feeling sick…" Her voice came out staggered and her cheeks were flushing red, he wasn't sure whether it was out of anger or embarrassment. Or her boy's way to let him know she was lying.

"Sam, we need you for the"—

"Just shoot that one bit that's with Carly, I'll—just—bye." And again Freddie flinched at the suddenly closed door preceded by her disappearance.

Why we got to fall for it now?

Carly frowned, "What other bit?"

"There is no other bit!" Freddie furiously chucked his equipment back into the chair, immediately regretting it after hearing the sounds of the metal clash against each other. He pulled at the front of his hair. "Why does this keep happening?" He groaned to himself.

Carly sighed, "Freddie, are you sure this whole thing with Sam is a good idea?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" He responded sadly staring at the door, silently hoping this nightmare was just that—a nightmare.

Carly chose her words carefully, "Well it's just that you have a habit of committing to girls who… aren't really interested."

He spun around so quickly he had to add lightheadedness to his anger, "Oh you mean like you? Well she's not like you Carly, you don't know her like I do. You don't get her."

"And you do?" she bit her lip, wishing she had said that a bit more nicely. Freddie only responded by forcing his eyes shut. Carly sighed again and put her hand on his shoulder, "I love you both but I don't want you to get hurt. If you could promise me that won't happen, I'll let you be."

I never meant to start a war
You know I never wanna hurt you

At this point, Sam, still on the other side of the door, wanted to burst in and answer that promise for him. But her back seemed glued to the wall. For someone who claimed to always be in control of all situations, she felt laughably weak at that moment. So instead she waited to hear whether Freddie had any hope left for her. She didn't hear much for about a minute until the door suddenly hit her as Freddie stormed out the apartment. All she could do was gasp when he made eye contact with her. When she looked away he shook his head and started digging his pockets for his keys.

"You know I'd never hurt you," she mumbled.

He chuckled, "Yeah, says the girl who slaps, punches, kicks, chokes"—

She stood up straighter, "I mean emotionally. Even the physical stuff, I don't really mean to." He ignored her, but he stayed outside. She knew he'd already found his keys because now his fumbling just looked idiotic. He was a terrible actor but she gave him credit for the effort. "I'm sorry…" she quietly added.

He gave up his key fumbling and leaned against his door, arms crossed. "I liked you better when you apologized every few years."

She frowned, "Well then what do you want from me?"

He spoke to the ground, "If you don't mean it, then why do you do it? I fight with you, because you fight with me. What's your reason? And don't give me any of that 'you're allergic to me' crap."

Sam bit her lip until she had to suck her blood in after every few words. "Do you ever notice how I give you my undivided attention when you say or do anything? How I manage my way around so that I'm standing as close to you as allowed without being questioned about it? How—gosh, you make me blush Benson! No one does that. But do you notice that?"

He started answering but she cut him off, "No, you only know I'm listening to you when I interrupt you. Or that I've been inches from you when you feel sudden pain. While on the other hand you notice Carly when she's breathing."

Again he tried to get a word in but she continued, "If I really wanted you to get hurt, I would have let you chase after Carly, whose interest with you changes as quickly as her outfits. Instead I spent years convincing you other wise, getting you to finally look at the girl sitting right next to her. Right next to you. Me."

Can't swallow our pride
Neither of us wanna raise that flag
If we can't surrender then we both gonna lose
What we had, oh no

He silently stared at her in case she was going to continue but she seemed to have deferred her attention to her bleeding lip. "So this is all my fault now? I've been noticing you, and from what I've observed all you do is run off." As he spoke he followed her eyes as they glanced to the stairs out. He chuckled, "Like you're about to do now."

"It's what I do, that's never going to change. If you don't get that, there's nothing I can do for you."

"Fine, maybe I'll just say 'screw it' to this whole thing. Forget it all, like it never happened. Run on away, but there's only so far you can get, Sam."

"Well then don't bother try to catch me." She said as she turned the corner towards the stairs.

And he didn't. In fact he didn't even watch her leave. He groaned and knocked on Carly's door again—he'd forgotten his camera equipment. As if that mattered to him in the least bit.

Carly looked like she wanted to cry for him, which only irritated him more. If there was anything he had in common with Sam, it was their hate for pity. "Stop worrying about it," he grumbled as he grabbed his things.

This only made her knit her eyebrows tighter, "Why don't you call her tonight? After a few calming down hours."

"I don't want to speak to someone who won't listen."

"She can't run away on the phone," Carly continued ignoring his statement.

"Carly, she can hang up." He stated the same way he would when explaining something tech-related to her.

Carly only rolled her eyes, "But she won't. Trust me." Freddie shrugged and waved her goodbye. She watched him open his door, "Please do call her! It can only get better from here."

To which Freddie held in some laughter. Of course it could get worse; she obviously didn't know Sam as well as she thought. It could get much much worse. Heck, in the extreme case, she could kill him—and never get caught.

We could pretend that we are friends tonight
And in the morning we'll wake up and we'll be alright

Nonetheless he did end up on the phone with Sam that night. And he was smiling. And he knew that she was too.

She told him to hold on as she showed her mom where their cat's medicine was, so he took the time to figure out what was going on. It's not that he wasn't glad that he was happy at the same time as she; he just hated the uncertainty of how long it'd last. What about tomorrow morning? Next week?

"Okay, hey she finally found it. What were we going on about?"

He snapped out of his thoughts. "Honestly, I have no idea. I'm not sure there was a point to it anyway."

She giggled, although she would never admit she ever did anything of the sort. "I'm not sure anything we do has a point Benson."

"Don't you think some of it should?" He readjusted his pillow so it would stop poking him awkwardly.

He could practically hear her roll her eyes. "Why do you always want me to think about things?"

He smirked, "Because when you don't think I usually end up with a bruise."

"Oh, no no I think those through. It's my stamp for you to remember me by," she grinned.

"Well you know what I think"—

His idea was interrupted by his mom bursting into his room, "That it's way past your bedtime? Get off that phone Freddie, immediately."

"Mom, just let me say one more thing"—

His mom grabbed the phone from his ear, "Goodnight Samantha." And hung up.

I don't wanna fall for it now

Freddie decidedly burst into Carly's and saw just who he expected to. "Carly, Sam."

"Hi…" Carly's voice held in fear of what her afternoon with Sam and now Freddie would become.

"Sup Freduccini?"

"Glad you'd ask that Sam," he took a sit next to her in front of the computer, "because what is up is that we are now officially dating."

Carly wanted to hide, things were going to be thrown and people were going to get hurt and this just wasn't going to end pretty.

Sam cleared her throat, still maintaining her calm, "Excuse me?"

"You and I, Ms. Puckett, like this," he intertwined his two fingers.

"Not in your wildest dreams," Sam responded automatically, but not convincingly enough.

"Oh and it's already been taken care of. Already changed my Palmbook status and I could easily hack into yours," the smirk never left his face. "Like I said last night Sam, this game we've been playing for years now, it has a point to it. My point? I want to be with you."

Carly shakily took a sip from her water bottle, for the first time in her life watching Sam be speechless.

After a few seconds too many she finally stammered, "This—this is never going to work Ben—Benson."

He stood up, taking over her personal space, but she didn't budge. "We'll make it work… eventually. You're stubborn but determined, and so am I."

She punched his arm—Carly gasped and he let moaned with expected pain. "Just like that; it'll be a battle every day."

Ignoring his pain, he shrugged and kept eye contact, "Love's a battlefield." And in a way only her eyes could respond, he knew he had her convinced.

Why does love always feel like a battlefield, a battlefield, a battlefield?

I guess you better go and get your armor


If only you knew how happy I was that I've finally been able to write something. I've had this song stuck in my head for the majority of this week, so I figured I'd put it to good use (: Review! (I've missed getting those!) xoxCamy