"Wait."
"What? Why?"
"Carry me."
"Carry you?" Freddie repeated. "You crazy?"
Sam curled up her fingers and examined the fingernails on her left hand, taking note of the blue paint chipping towards the tips. Freddie was smart. He got the hint.
He sighed, loudly, in nonverbal protest, but he knelt down. Sam got his hint, and ignored it.
He looked up at her expectantly. "So am I carrying you, or what?"
"Yup." Sam jumped on his back, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. Freddie nearly fell over. Somehow, he managed to regain his balance and straighten up, wrapping his arms around her legs.
"Not so tight!" he choked out, nearly dropping her.
"Don't be such a pansy," Sam said dismissively, but she loosened her grip.
Freddie coughed, wheezed, and took a deep, methodical breath. He craned his neck to look up at her.
"Where to, Princess?" he said sarcastically.
Sam rolled her eyes. "To the kitchen, my noble steed. Duh."
"I should have known," Freddie said, deadpan.
He laboriously carried her out of the room. Sam put her head down and sharply dug her chin into his shoulder, her hair falling over her shoulders and Freddie's, and listened to him breathe.
"Look, I'm sorry," she said quietly, into his ear.
"Thought you weren't apologizing for another few years," Freddie said finally, trying not to talk through her hair, and failing.
"I'm sorry," Sam insisted. "Okay?"
Freddie flashed her a quick smile. At least, it looked like he did. "I'm sorry, too."
Sam pursed her lips. "Why?"
"For this," Freddie said, suddenly dropping her onto the floor. He smirked. "You're way too heavy for me to carry downstairs."
He took off down the stairs as quickly as he could. Sam scrambled to her feet, all further thoughts of apologizing out of her head, and followed, furiously.
Things weren't quite back to normal, but they were pretty close.
Considering.
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