A/N: This isn't necessarily a songfic... but it does get a lot of inspiration from a couple of songs and a mention of others. It's rather music-oriented, I suppose. Lyrics from "We Own The Night" by Selena Gomez and the Scene (featuring the lovely Pixie Lott) are sprinkled throughout the piece. I also got a good bit of inspiration from "We Are Young" by FUN. Tonight we are young, so let's set the world on fire We can burn brighter than the sun Carry me home tonight, just carry me home tonight.

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly or any of the songs referenced here. I only wish I did. xD Oh, yeah, and this pretty much disregards the arc.

as long as i'm with you

when we are together it's the time of our lives

.x.

Samantha Puckett is reckless, tough, impulsive, and determined. She's also human—with feelings so strong that lesser girls would be left floundering. She's in love with Fredward Benson. Thank God he's in love with her, too, because it'd be a crime to keep them apart.

Fredward Benson is cautious, dorky, predictable, and stubborn. He's also quick to identify all of the previously listed qualities of Sam Puckett, in addition to countless others. To Freddie, Sam is reckless, tough, impulsive, determined, loyal, caring, complex, loving, and earth-shatteringly beautiful. He is often asked the question, "Why are you with her?" He always responds with a gentle shake of his head, a knowing smile, and the words: "I couldn't live without her."

After being raised by Marissa Benson, he needs Sam to liven him up. After being raised by Pam Puckett, she needs Freddie to keep her from tearing the world to pieces. He's all lists and rules and plans and regulations and safety. She's all pranks and food and fights and rule-breaking and danger. They balance each other out brilliantly.

They're seventeen and in love. She likes to live in the moment. He just wants to know how.

.x.

is it alright if i'm with you for the night?

.x.

"Hey, Fredhead," Sam boisterously addresses her boyfriend after entering the Shay apartment.

"Hey-o," he answers from his spot on the couch, lifting his hand in a small wave of greeting. Sam takes in his relaxed, lazy position with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

"Grab your keys, Fredlazy," she orders, "we're going out."

"What? I don't remember us having a date tonight," Freddie says, with his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. Sam rolls her eyes and her smirk grows wider.

"We don't. But it's Friday night and I'm going to show you the beauty of being impulsive. Now get off your boring butt and let's get crackin'," she responds, rocking back on her heels in anticipation. There's a gleam in her eyes that he's learned to be terrified of.

"But—," he tries to protest, only to be cut off.

"No. No buts. We gonna have us an adventure, Fredyawn," she interjects, still grinning like the Chesire cat. Freddie groggily rises from the couch, mumbling something about Sam's missing marbles. As soon as he is close enough, she seizes his arm and drags him to the door. Before they reach the hallway, she bellows, "Carly, we're going out. See you whenever!" into the depths of the apartment. Carly's muffled response comes just as Sam kicks the door closed.

"Where exactly are we going?" Freddie asks once they're in the confines of the main elevator.

"Wherever we so please," Sam drawls out. The elevator dings and Freddie shuffles out into the lobby reluctantly. Regardless of how long they've been together(one year, two months, eleven days, and nine-point-eight hours—not that he's counting), there is always cause for concern when Sam's spontaneity is at the reins. He catches himself compulsively running all of the worst-case scenarios through his head and looking around for some kind of protective gear. He's struck with how well his mother has conditioned him. He's tired of being afraid of everything, of being predictable.

He decides in that moment that he's going to cut loose and have himself what his girlfriend calls a "Sam Puckett Good Time."

He's pulled out of his internal scrutiny by Sam waving her hand in front of his face, saying, "Anybody home, Fredspacey?" He notices that they've made it all the way to his car and she's incredibly close from staring into his face and trying to snap him out of wherever he'd gone in his head. He feels the rush that always comes with her proximity, and he quickly scoops her up and spins her around in excitement.

His booming laughter choruses with her surprised shriek, and he can feel the endless possibilities of the night settle all around him. He sets her back down on the ground and he can tell that she's trying to appear irritated, but he has a goofy grin on his face and she can't stop a smile from spreading across hers, too. She shakes her head and scoffs, "You're such a dork."

His grin never falters as he leans down and kisses her. "Yeah, I know," he answers. She chuckles and climbs into his familiar passenger seat. Once they're on the road, he takes her hand, entwining their fingers.

It's dark and she can barely see the glow of the stars that are faded into the purple-black sky.

It's dark and he feels her thumb softly trace circles on the back of his hand as he gazes at the open road.

There's nothing and everything ahead of them.

.x.

we can drive in your car somewhere into the dark

.x.

Sam plugs her pearpod into the car—she's always the DJ. She chooses an upbeat party-pop song that he knows Carly introduced to her. She lets go of his hand and starts dancing in her seat, arms flailing around above her bobbing head. She sings along at the top of her lungs and Freddie laughs before joining her. He dances in a much more subdued, awkward fashion than she does—hey, he doesn't want to wreck and get them killed, alright? Sam looks at him with an overjoyed twinkle in her eyes. It's not often that she tells him, but she can't think of anyone or anything she loves more than her nubby boyfriend.

He loves how they can act crazy and stupid with each other right after being tender and sentimental. They can be however and whoever they want to be when they're together. Whenever he's around Sam—even if he's about to pee in his pants out of fear because she's dragged him into some insanely illegal plot that he's certain will get them both killed or worse—it's the time of his life. Moments like these make him feel more alive than he ever thought was possible.

A few songs later, Sam's stomach begins growling and she groans, "I'm hungry. Let's go grab us some grub from that new Karaoke Dokie place."

"Karaoke Dokie? As in singing? Why not just The Ham Shack or something?"

"Because, nub, we go to The Ham Shack all the time. Karaoke Dokie is new, has good food, and there will be idiots embarassing themselves. So we're going." She looks over at him sternly, showing that if he doesn't listen to her directions, he's in for a world of trouble.

"Alright, alright," he sighs. Karaoke Dokie could be exciting, right? "Whatever you want, Princess Puckett."

"That's more like it," she grins.

When they get to Karaoke Dokie, she bounds out of the car and into the club in a lightning flash of blonde curls and with a thundering stomach. Freddie stays close on her heels until they find an empty table. There are some tone-deaf boys trying to sing a Ginger Fox song on the glowing blue stage. Sam and Freddie glance at each other, at the stage, and then back at each other before doubling over in laughter. Sam wipes a tear from her eye, regaining composure, and picks up a menu. Soon, a waitress walks over and she eyes Freddie appreciatively.

The waitress's stare doesn't escape Sam's watchful eye, so she's quick to draw the girl's attention, "We'll have the jumbo ham platter, some buffalo nuggets, deluxe nachos with extra bacon, an extra large order of fries, and two Peppy Colas." Sam wants to get her away as quickly as possible, so she adds, "Kay, well, bye," to the end of their order when the waitress doesn't immediately walk off.

"Okay, I'll be right with your drinks," the waitress addresses Freddie with a flirty smile. She gives Sam a cold glance before she walks off.

"That skunkbag better keep her eyes off of you, Fredboy, or Mama's gonna have to break out the butter sock."

"Jealous?" Freddie smirks at her.

"Gross," Sam snorts reflexively. Old habits die hard, she figures.

Freddie simply rolls his eyes and asks, "So, you gonna sing?"

"Yeah, we're gonna put these artichokes in their place," she answers.

"Wait, we? What do you mean we?"

"I mean we. Y'know, the first-person plural personal pronoun? I figured a nerd like you would know the basics of the English language," Sam scoffs.

"No, Sam, I know what the word means. I was talking about the context in which you just used it," he spits back.

"Well that's obvious, Fredstupid. You're going to sing a song with me," she smiles innocently.

"But you can sing! I can't!" he sputters nervously. She laughs at him and shakes her head.

"I've heard you sing before. You're not so bad, especially with someone like me to carry you. You'll just be my back-up monkey."

"Monkey?" he raises an eyebrow.

"Don't question me!" Sam's just finished reprimanding him when the resident skunkbag returns with their drinks.

"Here you go," the waitress—whose name Sam can't be bothered to learn(which means that Freddie doesn't know it, either)—almost purrs at Freddie. Sam notices that she now has on a bit more make-up, her hair is much neater than it was when she first approached them, and her shirt has been pulled down to display a borderline-indecent amount of cleavage. Really? This chick is that desperate?

Freddie doesn't notice anything. He acknowledges the waitress with a brief nod, barely removing his gaze from Sam. The girl, upon realizing that her efforts have gone unnoticed, stalks off in a huff and Sam laughs at her retreating figure.

"She's so pathetic," Sam chokes out in between her laughter. "Who the heck would try that hard to get your attention?"

"What are you talking about? She just brought our drinks." He looks puzzled.

"Dude, are you blind? That chick practically fudgin' purred at you like some weird, deranged cat. And her chest was about to fall out of her shirt!" she exclaims.

"Seriously? I didn't pay much attention to her. She really purred? Like Frothy?"

"Pretty much," she replies with an amused expression. He shudders.

"That cat freaks me out." They both chuckle at his statement.

.x.

we can dance, we can sing, do whatever you think

.x.

The DJ makes an announcement that the stage is open for anyone who wants to sing and Sam jumps up to go snag the spot, dragging Freddie behind her. She tells the DJ, whose name is actually Dee Jay(Is he related to Socko?), what she wants to sing, grabs two microphones, and hops onto the stage with Freddie.

"Alright, looks like we're gonna have a little iCarly duet action tonight! Let's give it up for Sam Puckett and her tech-stooge, Freddie Benson!" Dee calls out over the speaker system. The rest of the club cheers when they recognize the duo from iCarly, and Sam grins at their fans.

Freddie is unsurprised by the music that begins to play—she's chosen "Just A Kiss" by Lady Antebellum—, though most other people might be because it's not very widely known that Sam has a love of country music. He also knows that she has a particularly soft spot for this song, which she will deny profusely in order to preserve her "tough" image. Luckily, he's become quite familiar with the song after the many times he's listened to it with her, and his nerves are slightly placated. When Sam starts singing, her eyes are closed and he almost misses his line because he's so enraptured by her. He loves her voice; it's just another unbelievably beautiful part of her. He doesn't particularly like his own, but when he hears hers mix with it he can't help but love it, too. Sam secretly loves hearing Freddie's voice chorus with hers. She revels in the way they blend together, and she has come to find his voice comforting. The audience is captivated by them; their intensity is palpable and suddenly nothing else in the room matters except for Sam and Freddie. As Sam sings the final note, everyone immediately begins to clap.

"Thank you, thank you very much," Sam responds with an amused smile, "we'll be here all hour." Freddie laughs at her cheeky statement, and wishes he would have caught their performance on camera for iCarly. He feels a little invincible when he walks off of the stage behind Sam.

"I never get tired of hearing you sing," he tells her when they are seated again. She almost blushes, and he takes it as a triumphant victory.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm amazing. What's new?" She's never been good at accepting praise from him, but he knows what she really means. Thanks, Freddie.

Their food arrives by means of a new waitress, who does not make passes at Freddie, and Sam feels supremely smug. She scarfs down two-thirds of the gargantuan amount of food that she ordered for them in less than fifteen minutes, while Freddie struggles to finish what she leaves him.

"I'm so full I don't think I'm going eat anything the next week," Freddie groans, hunched over in his seat.

"Oh, stop being a pansy, nerddork," Sam replies disapprovingly. "Mama ate twice what you did and I'm still kickin'."

"I'm convinced you have some sort of magic in your stomach that makes food disappear," Freddie grumbles.

"You're just jealous and ashamed of your baby-stomach," she taunts. "C'mon, Fredley, let's dance."

"If you make me dance, I will hurl all over your pretty shoes."

"Is that a threat, Freddie?" She narrows her eyes at him.

"Nope. It's a fact."

She glares at him for a moment before she acquiesces, "Fine, then I want to go to the beach."

He blinks in confusion and asks, "What? Now?"

"No, Freddie, I mean in the year 2437," she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Okay, okay! I was just making sure," he answers defensively. He hands her his keys and instructs, "Here, you can go wait in the car while I pay for our food." He's surprised to find that she does exactly that without protest. He rewards her with a fatcake from his pocket to reinforce her good behavior, and she inhales it.

"Is there any particular reason that you want to go to the beach of all places? It's going to take like two hours to get there," he questions.

"Are you complaining?"

"No, Sam, I'm not complaining," he sighs.

"Good boy. And I want to go to the beach because I feel like going to the beach," Sam replies.

"We're not going to get any sleep, are we?" His voice carries a hint of resignation. He wants to do this, he really does. But the prospect of no sleep is starting to sound very unpleasant as he grows more and more tired. The fun is warring with his craving for a full night's rest as he waits for Sam to speak again.

"That's what caffeine is for, Freddamame," she says and he can hear the smile in her voice.

He laughs and answers, "Of course."

It's dark and he is surrounded by the intoxicating aroma of Sam's apple-and-honey-scented hair and fatcakes.

It's dark and she can hear him humming a song that she will never tire of listening to.

They only have each other.

.x.

it's getting late but i don't care

.x.

It takes Freddie just under two hours to make in to the beach, and by the time they arrive it's already two a.m. Sam yawns and stretches next to him when he stops the car.

"Pop the trunk," she orders. Freddie almost questions her request, but he thinks better of it and simply does as she asks. He follows Sam when she hops out of the car, and watches as she rifles through the debris in his trunk. "You really gotta clean this thing out," she says after she pulls a blanket and energy drinks out of the mess.

"You do know that ninety-eight percent of the stuff in there is from you, right?" he asks matter-of-factly.

"Details, details," she replies with a flippant wave of her hand. He shakes his head with a bemused smile plastered across his face as she slams the trunk closed. She tosses him a can of the energy drink and then opens one for herself.

He practically chugs his caffeine-laden beverage before he says, "Carly's going to get mad at you if you're not there when you two are supposed to go shopping tomorrow morning."

"Which is why I'll be there," she answers will a grin, "and you'll probably be in bed sleeping your life away."

"So I guess we're only gonna be here for a couple of hours?" he questions, subtly trying to map out the rest of their night in one of his orderly plans. Sam notices what he's doing and effectively puts him in his place.

"So I guess you're gonna be here for a couple hours. I, on the other hand, will be living it up solo, since you can't seem to grasp the whole spontaneous thing."

"Sorry, sorry," he lifts his hands in surrender. "No more questions, promise."

"Fine. C'mon, Freddorkerly," she relents. Sam bounces off towards the water, sand spraying behind her. He watches her hair and the ocean shine in the moonlight for a silent, serene moment before he lets out a mirthful laugh and runs after her. She stops just where the ocean breaks against the sand, and the lukewarm water glides over her feet. He doesn't take long to catch up and wrap his arms around her. She leans back into him, exhaling a contented sigh.

They stand there in the peaceful embrace for what could be minutes or hours—time has ceased to be tangible. He can't believe how absolutely perfect this moment is, just standing on the outskirts of the ocean. Sam is warm and soft in his arms, the sand is firm and cool beneath his feet, and the breeze is light and fresh sifting through his hair. He leans down and murmurs, "I love you," into her ear. She turns around to gaze directly into his eyes and whispers, "I love you, too, Freddie." She stretches up to meet his lips in a soft kiss, and she honestly can't think of a moment when she has been happier. Quiet, sappy moments are her favorite—don't tell.

we own the night

A/N: So, yeah. I don't totally know what this is, but I think I like it? Or hate it? Haha, mixed emotions. Let me know what you think. (: