"Pini's? We're going back to Pini's?" Sam asked, stepping out of the car before Freddie could get over to her, much to his dismay.

"Just relax." He assured, taking her hand and leading her to the door.

"Again, this is… Pini's." She repeated, looking around. "I said steak, Fredamame. I didn't even get a chance to get in the Pini's mindset-"

Suddenly, Freddie flipped around, pulling her close and cutting her off with a lingering kiss.

"You," He mumbled to her, his voice gravelly, "need to stop talking."

"Not my fault." She responded a moment later, once she regained her comprehension. "The prospect of food distracts from my ability to be silenced."

"You were never able to be silenced."

"Well food makes it even more impossible." Sam deadpanned as Freddie beat her to the door.

With a grand gesture, he delivered in a fake French accent, "Right this way, m'lady."

"You're a nub, m'lady." She shot back, pulling him by his shirt to drag behind her.

Catching up, he brought them to the front of the line, to the customers' irritation, and announced to the waiter: "Table for two, if you please."

"I'm sorry, we are completely b- Samantha!" Javier looked up, catching Sam's eye, a grin spreading across his face. It quickly dropped to a grimace, however, upon recognizing Freddie. "Oh, and the friend."

Freddie pulled at his collar proudly, "Oh, well-"

"Actually, Javier," Sam jumped in, catching on quickly and taking Freddie's hand, lifting them intertwined, "this is my boyfriend, Freddie."

"B-b-boyfriend?" The waiter stammered, looking back and forth between the two.

"Yep. Been together for a year." Freddie stated, beaming.

After a minute of blank staring, Javier pulled himself together, putting on a stern expression and turning to his book. "Well, if you don't have a reservation, we can't seat you."

"Don't bother." He quipped, leaning in close. "We wouldn't dine here anyway. Got a reservation elsewhere. But it was nice seeing you, Javier, we really should catch up." Flashing a cheesy grin before turning to leave. Sam waved to him over her shoulder on the way out, then as soon as they were out of earshot, stopped and turned to Freddie.

"Dude, you could have told me what you were planning." She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a look.

Rubbing the back of his neck nervously, Freddie looked toward the ground. "I knew you would hate it so I didn't say anything… I'm sorry, Sam. I just… really needed to do that. I know you hate it when I parade you around, but he's stupid and French and has a stupid French name but you chose me, not him, so I needed to rub that in his stupid French face-"

This time it was Sam's turn to interrupt with a kiss.

"The only thing I'm upset about," She told him, holding fistfuls of his shirt, "is you insulted Pini's, and now I might not be able to go back there again." With that, she slapped his chest, albeit lighter than she used to. "I love that place! You can't just go around insulting people's favorite restaurants, Freddie. Didn't your mom teach you manners?"

"I promise, I found a place that's even better."

She gasped, "Say it ain't so!"

"You'll see. You're going to love it."

"So, I'm a little confused…" Sam told him as she looked around the restaurant that Freddie dragged her to. El Gaucho, an expensive steakhouse just 10 minutes from Pini's.

"I mean, this is a nice place and all, but I don't really see how it's 'even better' than Pini's."

"Just wait."

With a sigh, she opened her menu. "Fine, I'll humor you. For now."

"That's all I ask." He winked at her over his own menu. "Oh look, 24 ounce steak."

He didn't even have to look up to know her eyes widened, scanning the menu fixedly as fast as they could. "Now you're talking."

Once the waiter took their orders, leaving a basket of breadsticks in the menus' place, Freddie leaned across the table.

"Is there anything you've always wanted to ask me?"

"I don't know if you noticed Fredburger," Sam started, waving a breadstick around to emphasize her thought. "But I don't exactly have a filter. Anything I wanted to ask you, I've asked already."

Laughing, Freddie shook his head. "Come on, there's gotta be something. I know I have some."

"Then why don't you start?"

"Fine, I will." He pulled a pen out of his pocket (he seriously brought a pen?), picking up a napkin and writing his question in the upper left corner.

"You have better handwriting than I do." she noticed as he finished writing. "That may be a cause for concern."

"Shut up and read the question." He insisted, pushing the napkin closer to her.

"What's your favorite color? I thought we established the quality of this question a long time ago, Benson."

"But I still don't know the answer."

Rolling her eyes, she sighed. "Fine. Red."

"Why?"

"Because I look way hot in that color."

He had to smile at that. "Okay, I'll give you that one. Your turn."

Surprisingly, instead of protesting like he expected, she simply took the pen and started writing. (Smack dab in the middle of the napkin, to his irritation.)

"How often do you talk to your dad?"

"Probably about once a week."

"That often?"

"Yeah, normally on Tuesdays. But I didn't get to talk to him this week, with all that's been happening."

She nodded, falling silent, which he took for a sign that she was finished.

"Do you think about your dad a lot?"

Biting her lip, she tapped her nails on the napkin. "Uh... I guess."

Nodding, he took her hand in his, half to silence it and half for comfort. Sam rarely, if ever, talked about her dad. He knew it was a sore subject, but he also knew that she needed to talk about it. And what better time than the present?

"Sometimes," she started again, staring fixedly at a spot on the table. "I guess I think about what my life would have been like if he hadn't done it. If I had noticed, or done something to prevent it. Maybe he would have been putting me through school now. Maybe I would have turned out different."

She looked up suddenly, catching his eyes. "But honestly, I don't like to think about it that much. What's the point, if none of its true, you know? It's not going to change anything."

She stopped, "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

Nodding, he gave her hand a quick squeeze before letting go. "That's okay."

The server came with their meals, placing a plate of pasta in front of Freddie, and a hearty sized steak in front of Sam.

He could almost see her mouth watering. Good thing she snapped back so quickly.

"It's your turn by the way."

Sam groaned, taking another napkin and scrawling out her next question hastily before getting back to her precious steak.

"What does yours know about me?"

After he read the question, he smiled, taking a bite of his pasta. "Oh, tons. It changes every day though - one I might be bragging about you, and the next I'm complaining. He loves hearing about you though. Thinks you've 'got a real spark'."

She tried to hide her smirk behind a giant forkful of steak, "Probably one of the better comments I get."

"He wants to meet you."

Freezing, her fork floating in the air, she stared at him. "What?"

"I said it would be too hard now, considering we hardly have time to see each other, but maybe one day..."

He trailed off, but Sam picked up the words unsaid. Maybe one day, when there isn't four thousand miles of land separating them. Maybe one day after she graduates. Maybe one day... When they have a more permanent living space. Her heart raced at the thought, but she played it off as best she can.

"He might rethink that 'spark' comment after that happens."

"And instead maybe he'll find you as infuriating and amazing as I do."

She snorted, "Are you trying to set me up with your dad? Sorry dude, I don't know if I could handle that age difference."

"Gross, Sam." he rolled his eyes, chuckling slightly.

They ate the rest of their meal in comfortable silence, with Sam alternating between gulping down giant forkfuls of steak and unabashedly stealing almost half of his pasta, until both plates were clean.

"Did you save any room for dessert tonight?" Their waiter offered as he cleared their table.

"I think I definitely-" Sam started, only to be interrupted.

"No, we're fine, thanks."

Sam glared at him. "Are you kidding me right now?"

With a laugh, Freddie waved off the waiter, ignoring Sam until he paid for the meal and was already walking out the door.

"I can't believe we didn't get dessert. They had flambé, Freddie. Flambé."

"Oh, that sounds nice." He noted distractedly, looking around over her head as he guided her by the small of her back across the street.

"What are you doing? Stop pushing me!" She swatted his hand away, but he just put it back, leading her past groups of people smoking in front of a jazz club.

"You really need to stop freaking out and just let me handle the directions, alright?" He informed her amusingly, as she tried yet again to step away from his hand.

"Why won't you just tell me what we're doing?" When all she got in response was another shush and squint toward a street sign, she let out a sigh. "You know, I am a girl. Which means I have the ability to scream, and everyone in the vicinity will think you're trying to kidnap me."

"Ooh, feisty." Freddie laughed, "Except the curiosity will get the better of you because you know that whatever it is that I'm planning is going to be so worth it, but you just don't want to admit it."

There was a pause, and then she mumbled in reply, "You are too confident in your date planning."

"That's because I'm just that good. And here we are." He stopped proudly in front of a small building that, in Sam's opinion, looks just like every single other building on this street.

"So where is 'here', exactly?" Sam asked as he pushed the door open, leading her through the doorway in the same irritating way as he led her down the street. Instantly, the sweet smell of frosting filled her, almost distracting her from the utter cuteness of the place – are those seriously board games on that stool?

"It's just this little place I found called The Yellow Leaf Cupcake Company. And it just so happened to be only eight minutes away from El Gaucho."

"So this is what we ditched the flambé for? A cupcake place?"

He nodded, wrapping his arm around her waist. "Except, this isn't any old cupcake place."

"Oh really? What makes this place so special?" Sam asked grabbing a menu and carelessly flipping it open.

Freddie pulled her closer to his side, leaning down so his mouth was right beside her ear.

"They have bacon cupcakes." He whispered, and her eyes lit up. Suddenly, this place didn't seem so disgustingly cutesy anymore.

"I am in heaven."

"Of course I'm getting you dessert. What kind of boyfriend do you think I am?" He mumbled in her ear as her eyes scanned the menu, kissing her on her temple.

"The most perfect boyfriend on the planet- oh my gosh they have one called 'Pancakes n' Bacon'."

Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he scanned the menu in her hand. "I think I'll just stick with plain-"

"If you say a plain chocolate cupcake I swear to God I will strangle you with my bacon."

"Well, what else am I supposed to- woah beer cupcakes?" Yanking the paper from her hands, Freddie perused it more thoroughly, causing Sam to laugh.

"Dude, I want one of those too."

Stepping up to the counter in awe, Freddie ordered his beer cupcake, leaving Sam to request her five varying bacon and alcoholic desserts. Once they received their cupcakes, they moved to one of the few tables and Sam dug in.

"Wait!" Freddie pulled out his phone, holding up a hand to pause Sam in her inhaling of 'Pancakes n' Bacon'.

"If you're about to write me a question at a time like this, Freddie, I swear-"

"No question." He shook his head with a grin, "We just need to document this. Sam's first bacon cupcake."

She tried to hide her smile. "Just hurry it up."

"Okay… go." He pressed the camera button on his PearPhone just as Sam took her first bite, capturing her purely blissful expression.

"That is honestly the most glorious thing I've ever tasted." Closing her eyes in delight for a moment.

Freddie wiggled his eyebrow at her, playfully. "The most glorious, really? That's not what you said a few months ago-"

"Oh, shut up." She rolled her eyes before setting it down and looking back at Freddie. "Okay, you're turn. Beer cupcake. Go, go!"

Laughing, Freddie passed the phone to Sam and slowly unwrapping his own cupcake. "Okay… here it goes." Taking a small bite, he lifted his eyebrows.

"Woah, that's strong."

Sam let out a loud laugh. "You're such a wuss, it's just beer. I got the Irish whiskey one too."

"I think I'm good with my beer."

Twenty minutes and four cupcakes later, Sam had collapsed halfway across the table, nibbling on her last cupcake.

"You know what they should make?" She asked, holding up her last bite of cupcake. "Bacon rum cupcakes."

"Oh, God," Freddie shook his head, laughing. "That sounds disgusting."

"That sounds delightful." She countered, shaking her head. "It would be such a great business deal. I'm going to go tell them-"

"Sweetie, no," He grabbed her around the waist before she could move back through the doors, "I think they have more than enough flavors already."

"But I want bacon rum." She pouted, crossing her arms over her chest and stomping her foot for emphasis.

"I think you've had quite a bit for one night, actually."

After Freddie (finally) dislodged Sam from her hold on the cupcake store door, they made their way home. Sam was, for lack of a better word, tipsy. Which she emphasized greatly as she leaned on Freddie as he drove them to her house.

"You're cute when you're focused."

He smirked, wrapping an arm around her to keep her from toppling over, "Then how come you weren't falling all over me in Chem junior year?"

Expectedly, she ignored him, inching her fingers up his arm into the sleeve of his shirt. "I feel funny."

"That might be because you had three alcohol-drenched cupcakes and all those mojitos during dinner." He enlightened, shaking his head, "I still don't understand how you so easily get past the whole you're-under-21 thing."

"Fake ID, Fredwardino. You should really get yourself one."

He laughed, "Fredwardino, that's a new one."

"I'm obviously an elephant drunk." She surmised, knowingly. He decided to just let that go.

They pulled into her driveway, and he hastily met her at her door before she got a chance to impale herself on the side view mirror.

"Okay, I'm going to try to sober you up a bit." He assured her as he half-carried her into her house, depositing her on a kitchen stool while he grabbed her a glass of water.

"What if," she started, abandoning the stool to press herself against Freddie's back, "I don't want to be sober?"

"Well then we'd have to skip out on all my plans for tonight. Because I'm not having sex with you while you're drunk. You won't remember any of it."

"Sure I will," she insisted, yanking his shirt out of his pants and plunging her hands up to feel his skin. He all but groaned, trying to hold his composure.

"Sam, don't." Freddie warned her, pulling her hands away and handing her the cup of water. "I'm not going to let you seduce me. Now drink."

"You're no fun." She stated, crossing her arms and actually stomping her foot on the ground to punctuate her sentence.

"Exactly. You want me to be fun?" He asked rhetorically, taking her hand and placing the glass in it. "Then you need to be sober."

With a dramatic sigh, she plopped back on the stool less than gracefully, gulping down the water quickly.

"I'll be in the bedroom." He called over his shoulder, "Come in when the room stops spinning."

"That was…"

"Best sex we've ever had?" Freddie finished, helpfully.

She sighed, cuddling up next to him. "Definitely. Thanks for sobering me up."

"I'm just glad you're not a lightweight. Would have made the whole process a lot more difficult."

"I would disown myself if I were a lightweight. So not the Puckett way."

With a snort, he wrapped his arms around her a bit tighter as her breathing began to slow.

"So… can I ask one more question?"

She hummed in response, which he took as an affirmation.

"What was your relationship with your dad?"

She stiffened in his arms, fully awake now. "Freddie, I really don't-"

"You don't want to talk about it, I know. But… don't you think you maybe need to? Have you ever talked to anyone about it?

After a few moments, she shook her head a little from its position against his shoulder. He held her, stroking her hair and waiting for her to be ready. Because as much as she claimed she didn't want to talk about it, he knew she would give in. It was too big of a part of her life to just ignore.

He had to wait a little under five minutes, during which time he thought she fell asleep, but she finally sighed, "I loved my dad. He was some of the only stability in my life, with my mom being how she is. He took me to Mariners games and movies. Normal dad stuff. He was… my best friend, I guess. Obviously, we weren't perfect. But, it felt perfect. For a while at least.

"I probably should have noticed the change. The signs were all there, looking back on it. The fights between him and mom got worse and worse, and soon they became these giant screaming matches, with glass shattering and stomping out. It was always my mom who threw things and stormed out. My dad just went back in his office every time. He was held up in his office more and more, not coming out until I was already in bed. But he always came to kiss me good night and tuck me in, so I never really gave it much thought."

She buried her face a little deeper in Freddie's shoulder, and he knew the worst part was coming. "And then one day, he didn't come in. It was nine o'clock and I was waiting, but he never came. So I went to his office to see… and that's when I saw it. I found him. On the ground, in a pool of blood…" Her voice shook slightly.

"We took him to the hospital instantly, but obviously that didn't stop it." She stopped for a moment, taking deep breaths, and Freddie tightened his hold on her.

"I think that's probably why my mom is the way she is, so distant and unreliable. She never really came to terms with it, never let herself get over it…" Trailing off, she shrugged, struggling to breathe normally again.

He didn't even know what to say. "I'm sorry" seemed wholly insignificant. So he just held her tighter, stroking her back as she attempted to clear the image out of her head.

"Thank you for telling me that." He whispered, but she didn't respond. Instead, she lifted her head, planting a soft kiss on his lips. Then, resting her head on his shoulder again, she drifted off to sleep, emotionally and physically drained from the day.

Freddie watched her for a few minutes, stroking her hair in a way that if she were conscious she would label "disgustingly cheesy", before silently standing. At least he would get to see her once more tomorrow before going back to school.

With that, he walked out of the house, locking the door behind him. To the hospital.