Organization

"I can't believe this place doesn't have a single snack machine!" Sam fumed as her and Freddie walked into the gym.

"Well Sam, generally people don't like to eat high calorie snacks when they work out," Freddie chuckled. "People usually work out in the first place because they fill guilty about eating so many of those."

"Good thing I brought my own supplies, just in case this happened," Sam said, pulling a Fat Cake out of her pocket. "Okay, Benson. What do you do at this place? Treadmill? Elliptical? That weird looking machine that looks painful?"

"Well, I have a system," Freddie said. "And it's perfectly structured to give me just the right amount of cardio, strength, and endurance."

"Who structures their workout?" Sam scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I thought most people just come here and did whatever makes them sweat the least. But then again, you are a little obsessive about these things. I mean, you're the only person on earth who has an organizational chart for your underwear drawer."

"That's my mom's idea, and I thought you promised to never speak of it!" Freddie hissed.

"Alright, alright, I'm not speaking of it," Sam laughed. "So seriously, what do you do first?"

"Well first, I like to lift some weights," Freddie said, heading over to an empty bench. "Then I'll do the elliptical, do a few pull-up reps on those bars over there, and then cool down with a nice jog on the treadmill."

"Sounds like…effort," Sam cringed. "What am I supposed to do while you do that?"

"You can work out too," Freddie shrugged.

Sam nearly chocked on her Fat Cake. "Yeah…like I work out. I'm naturally strong, Fredscab."

"I know," Freddie smiled. "But if you didn't want to work out, then why'd you ask to come to the gym with me?"

"Because my cable was out," Sam said. "Besides, I want to see how you suddenly got those muscles of yours. I mean it's like one day last year you just sprouted those things."

"Well after one is beat constantly in arm wrestling, one feels the need to do something about it," Freddie smirked as he pulled off his sweatshirt, leaving him in only a loose-fitting tank top.

"I can still beat you in arm wrestling though," Sam pointed out, enjoying the new sight of her boyfriend's arms.

"Yes, but it takes you longer now," Freddie said, definitely noticing Sam's lingering eyes, causing him to grin. "My goal is to make it seven seconds."
"In your dreams," Sam said.

"So," Freddie said, sitting down on the weight bench. "If you're not going to work out, what do you plan on doing here while you wait for me?"

"I dunno," Sam shrugged, sitting down on the end of the bench as Freddie began to lift one of the weights. "I guess I'll just sit and watch you."

"Like what you see?" Freddie said cockily.

"What? A sweaty little nub?" Sam asked, though her face was quite flushed.

Freddie rolled his eyes and continued to lift his weights.

Sam watched, trying not to look too much as if she were about to drool. She had to hand it to the dork; all this time at the gym had really paid off for him. And it seemed like she wasn't the only one who thought so, judging by the small group of girls who had gathered over by one of the stationary bikes, looking at her boyfriend, giggling. But once firm glare from Sam sent them back to their own workouts.

"How much are you lifting now?" Sam asked Freddie.

"210," Freddie replied, setting the weight down.

"Impressive," Sam grinned.

"I'm trying to get up to 250," Freddie told her.

"You will, baby," Sam said encouragingly.

"Thanks," Freddie smiled, taking a swig from his water bottle. "Hey, you wanna give it a try?"

"Lifting weights?"

"Sure," Freddie nodded. "You're strong, come on. Let's see if you can handle it."

"Alright," Sam agreed, sitting down where Freddie was. She began to lift the weight, but before she actually lifted it, she looked over at Freddie. She didn't know why, maybe because he was standing there with his muscles all sweaty and glistening, making her react in such a…girlish manner, but she suddenly felt the urge to do something...nice for her boyfriend. After all, the nub was always doing things to make her happy, wasn't he?

And so, even though Sam knew she could have easily lifted the weight in front of her (she did have a reputation of flipping truck drivers), she pulled on a strained face and pretended to be trying with all her might to lift it, while really not trying at all.

"Holy chiz," she said, panting. "What the heck is that thing made of? Stone?"

"You can't lift it?" Freddie asked, looking somewhat proud that her could apparently bench more than his freakishly strong girlfriend.

"No!" Sam said, feigning a voice of annoyance. "I guess…I guess you can lift more than me."

"Then why can I never beat you in arm wrestling?" Freddie said, confused.

"Well your arm doesn't weigh 210, now does it?" Sam pointed out. "I can handle that just fine."

Freddie studied her for a moment, and Sam got the feeling that he had seen through her little charade, but he didn't say anything. He just smiled and bent down and kissed her.

"So how much longer?" Sam asked, moving out of the way so Freddie could sit back down on the weight bench. "That Fat Cake wasn't enough; I'm still starving."

"Well they sell protein bars down at the front desk," Freddie suggested.

"Those things taste like chalk," Sam said. "Let's just hit the smoothie when you're done."

"Sounds good," Freddie nodded, getting back to lifting.

Sam watched him for a moment, and then slowly took out her Pearphone.

"What are you doing?" Freddie asked, looking over at her.

"Just, um, checking my email," Sam said, snapping a few quick pictures. "Get back to your weight thing."