Sam was pretty sure she's never felt so terrible in her life.
Maybe it was the chicken she ate that was a week old, her room being a giant mess that she hasn't cleaned in…well, she doesn't know how long, her apartment also being dusty and filthy, or even her old cat, Frothy—but she was sick. Very sick. She was so incredibly hot whenever she put a sweater or blanket on, but so incredibly cold if she took them off. She wasn't hungry—and Sam was always hungry—and didn't eat anything for over a day. Even if she took a sip of juice she'd throw up whatever little food was left in her stomach. Not to mention her nose was runny and stuffy at the same time and every time she coughed her chest hurt. And her head throbbed.
So she went to Carly's. Sam's mother didn't have any medicine or any healthy foods, so she knew if she stayed there she'd get even sicker. But when she picked the lock (she should have earned a medal for picking it so fast in her state) she was greeted with an empty apartment. She then remembered Carly and Spencer wasn't there—they were visiting their grandparents in Olympia.
Sam settled on the couch, trying to touch as little things as possible, and lay there in her misery. After a few painful hours, Sam finally was drifting off into a light sleep for the first time in days. That is, until she heard a knock on the door.
She growled, angry for being woken up when she was finally going to fall asleep. Not to mention the pounding on the door was making her head throb even more.
"Who is it?" Sam yelled as loud as she could, but it came out as a low rasp, which made her start a painful coughing fit.
The door opened to reveal a brown haired, brown-eyed guy. He peeked inside before letting himself in. Sam couldn't imagine what she looked like at the moment. He jumped when he saw her.
"Oh!" Freddie said in surprise, but then quickly frowned. "Sam, what are you doing here?"
"What are you doing here?" Sam shot back irritably. She mustered up all of her strength to not sound like a dying frog. And it worked—barely.
He seemed to perk up. "I left my laptop in the studio, I'm using it for a Galaxy Wars marathon!"
The dork woke her up so he could have a geek marathon? She didn't have the strength to shoot out an insult, so she fell back onto the couch with an angry sigh.
Freddie frowned. This would be the time Sam would make some comment about him being a dork, or some other usual insult. Not that he was complaining. He shrugged, making his way to the studio for his laptop.
A couple of minutes later, Freddie came down stairs to find Sam off the couch. But she was wobbling and shaking as she stumbled to the kitchen, gripping the walls for dear life. Freddie threw his laptop on the couch and ran to Sam.
"What's wrong?" he asked, voice masked with concern.
"Nothing, Benson," Sam snapped, but her voice came out in a low rasp.
Freddie put his hands out in case she fell. "Sam you're burning up!" he cautiously reached out further until he touched her arm. She didn't even protest. Yep, she was definitely sick. "I think you have a fever."
"I'm aware" she tried to say, but she ended up having a huge coughing fit instead.
"Come to the couch, you need to get rest and drink a lot of fluids. I'll—"
"I don't need your pampering, Freddork, I can take care of myself." Finally, her voice wasn't in a rasp!
"Sam, you can't even stand up by yourself." He raised a brow.
"Yes I can. See?" she pushed herself off the wall. She gave him a smug smirk but it was quickly wiped off her face when her knees buckled and gave out. She braced herself for the face-plant on the floor sure to come, but a pair of strong arms caught her. Sam looked down at his in surprise. Did he always have such big muscles?
"L-let go of me!"
"You need to lay down," Freddie ignoring her comment, and began to lead her to the couch. "Is there any soup here? Or medicine?"
"How am I supposed to know?" she said, irritated that she couldn't get out of his strong grip.
"Well, there's some soup my mom made—"
"Absolutely not, Benson! You let me go right now and I'll show you how sick I am when I—agh!"
She was suddenly lifted into the air and put on one of Freddie's broad shoulders in one swift movement.
"What are you doing?" she yelled as loud as she could (which wasn't very loud) as she hung upside down. "Put me down! All the blood is rushing to my head!"
"Fine." Freddie effortlessly took her off his shoulder before scooping her up once again and held her bridal style. He couldn't help but smirk on the look on her face.
He calmly walked out of the apartment and went to his, ignoring all the insults and threats she was throwing at him along the way. She only stopped once he opened the door and walked into his apartment. He carried her to his couch and gently set her down.
"Lay there, and I'll heat up the soup and get a blanket," he instructed, leaving the room before she could protest.
Sam sighed, annoyed at how weak and pathetic she was feeling. And since when was Freddie so…strong? But she had to admit—it was kind of attractive. But all she could do was stare at his ceiling and listen to her head throb.
Moments later, Freddie returned with a blanket, cold pack, bowl of soup, water, and a laptop. After setting the cold pack on her forehead, putting the blanket over her, and feeding her soup (which of course took many minutes of protest from Sam and manhandling from Freddie before getting the soup down her throat), Freddie sat himself on the floor in front of the couch and told her to try to get some rest as he began his "Geek Wars Marathon" (as Sam called it, of course).
Sam quickly began to fall asleep because, well, how could she not fall asleep when Galaxy Wars was on? But before she did, she murmured,
"Thank you, Freddie."
Freddie looked back at her half-closed lids, mouth slightly open, her body lazily sprawled out, and her long, blond hair cascading down her face and over the arm of the couch and smiled. Was she always this beautiful?
"No problem, Princess Puckett."
A/N: I appreciate reviews and favs a lot. Just saying….