Oh the Romance
"Hey Sam, do you need more to drink?"
"Yeah, hold on. I'll come with you."
"OH. I want more to drink, too!"
"No, Carly, I think you've had enough for right now," Sam said, putting a hand on her shoulder to keep her in her seat. "You don't want to end up making love to the porcelain god, do you?"
"That doesn't make sense, Sam."
"Making love is gross, but fun," Carly said sincerely, smiling from her seat. Sam and Freddie both slowly walked away from her towards the bar.
"So you're planning on drinking some tonight, too, huh? Smooth-moves Benson gonna sweet-talk the bartender?"
Freddie rolled his eyes. "They stopped checking ID's half an hour ago, and I'm practically 21. Besides, remember who made those Dingo ID's in high school?"
"You have a fake? Why didn't you make me a fake?"
"The last thing you need is help breaking the law." She shrugged in acceptance.
"Do you think she's ok?" Freddie said, looking from the bar back to their table where Carly was leaning back and forth, a goofy smile on her face. "I think those tequila shots are really getting to her."
"She's fine," Sam said, not entirely reassuringly. "Gibby'll keep anyone from getting too close, anyway. And where's the bartender with our drinks? Mama's tired of being sober."
"We haven't even ordered yet…"
"Oh, I signaled him to give us my two regulars." Seconds later, a tall can of Angry Mustang and a shot of John Dandy were placed in front of Freddie. At this, the man sitting next to where they were standing turned to them, interest apparently piqued more so than from the barely conscious woman next to him.
"You don't see many kids your age drinking like that anymore. He's a keeper." Sam and Freddie exchanged an awkward glance as Sam's drink was put in front of her.
"What'd you get?" the man asked, looking at her.
"…a Detroit Lemonade?" Sam said.
"Hoo, you too! You must get along real well." Another awkward glance. "So how long have you been a couple, or do you not know you're a couple yet?"
"Wha-no, no, not a couple."
"Just friends!"
"Oh, hehe, you'll see. You don't think so now, but you two'll end up doing well together."
They made their way back to the table as quickly as they could, stuck in neutral between laughing and shuddering.
"Ugh, Gibby!" Sam said, sitting down and gesturing to the additional shot glasses now on the table. "Why did you get Carly more to drink? She's totally gonna hurl now!"
"Am not!" Carly said, spinning her head to Sam, then sticking her arms out to stabilize the world.
"But she still wouldn't let me take my shirt off! Besides, how do you know how much she can handle?"
"Hey, don't talk to my baby girl that way!" Freddie said smirking, before taking his shot and opening his beer.
"Aww, thanks sweetie, I always like it when you stick up for me," Sam said, taking his hands in hers.
"No problem, babe."
"What, you guys aren't, but… wha?" Gibby stuttered.
Sam and Freddie burst out laughing.
"Oh you guys, you're always playing games," Carly said, wiggling around as she said 'games.' "I like games." She giggled, and threw a chicken wing from the table at Gibby's face.
Sam laughed. "Come on, we're just kidding. Some creep at the bar told me and Freddifer that we would fall in love over cheap liquor. Nice job taking to the gut rot, by the way," she said, turning to Freddie, "I didn't know you had it in you to handle it."
"Why do you drink this stuff, anyway?"
"It makes me feel like a man!"
"Why would you want to do that?" He put on a pout. "Am… am I not fulfilling you in our relationship?"
"No, honey, you're doing fine," Sam said reassuringly, "I just have… other needs." They both giggled.
"Other… needs?" Carly said, almost to herself. "Like what? Do people not tell you you're doing a good job at work?"
"No, Carly-"
Carly looked Sam dead in the eye, and started imitating what was possibly an old man. "Samantha Puckett, you're doing a good job!"
"Carly," Freddie said, keeping her from going on, "it was a joke, about being fulfilled, um…" Sam began making inappropriate hand gestures.
"Oh. OH! Ha. Hahahahaha! It's, it's funny!" Carly said, and fell over against Sam.
"Come on," Sam said, propping her back up, "let's get Carls more to drink."
Gibby finished wiping his face. "But you just got mad at me for-"
"Eh, she won't remember any of this. She might as well be entertaining."
Leaving the bar, after finally tearing Carly away from a hipster she had asked if he was in a chess club, then tried to apologize profusely to after realizing that could be insulting to someone not actually in a chess club, they staggered down the block to the bus stop. They walked in momentary silence; Gibby straightening his (yet again) newly replaced shirt, Carly steadying herself with birthday balloons in one hand and brushing her hair out of her face with the other, Freddie taking his jacket and putting it around Sam's shoulders.
"Aw, thanks darlin'." Sam said, pinching his cheek.
"No problem for my little lady."
"Oh would you two quit it?" Carly said, stopping in her tracks. "You've been doing that all night and at first it was funny but now it doesn't even look like you're joking anymore and I swear you're about to make me throw up!"
"Oh come on, Carly. Sam and I are just kidding."
"And I don't think it's just us that are making you want to blow chunks."
"Alright, but just stop it, OK?"
"Fine."
"Fine."
"You know," Gibby said, walking back to her, "you and I could pretend…"
She started to walk away from him. "No, Gibby."
"Aw, apples."
"WAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"
The other three ran over to where Carly had fallen, Freddie and Gibby taking an arm each to get her back on her feet.
"Come on, Carly," Sam said, taking off her heels and grabbing her balloons, "let's get you home."
"Really Carly? An entire bus and you had to throw up on the hobo?" Freddie said as he and Sam walked her into her apartment.
"He didn't seem to mind that much," Carly said defensively.
"Yeah, but then we had to listen him making all those moaning sounds for the rest of the ride," Sam said, slumping Carly off her shoulder and onto the couch.
"Now come on Carly, let's get you on your side."
"Yeah, we don't want you to Jimi Hendrix on us."
Freddie propped her head on a pillow and made sure her back was against the seat cushions so she wouldn't roll off her side.
"Freddie, you're so sweet," Carly said, then grabbed his shoulders to pull herself up and kissed him.
"Whoa there, Carls," Sam said, pushing her back down to the couch, "that's my man you're smoochin' on, and I think more than one fake girlfriend a night would scramble poor Fredward's brain."
Carly laughed. "You're right, Sam." And then she kissed her, too.
Freddie and Sam looked at each other as Carly fell asleep almost instantly.
Freddie wiped his mouth. "Did she realize she still tasted like vomit?"
"Probably not."