AN-So in chapter 424, Sam mentioned that Emma had gotten drunk with her friends one time, but Freddie never knew about it. Well, this is that scene, but in this chapter, Freddie DOES know about it. Enjoy!

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Rack

"You know, I feel like we haven't gotten a chance to have any alone time in forever," Freddie smiled as he wrapped his arms around his wife as they cuddled together on their living room couch.

"Well we should fix that," Sam grinned, kissing him. "Why don't we do this more often? Just chill out together? It's so relaxing."

"I know," Freddie nodded. "I guess we'll have to make up for lost time…"

He leaned down to kiss her passionately, running his fingers through her hair.

"Ew! Get a room, will you?"

Sam and Freddie sighed as they pulled away and turned towards their thirteen-year old son, Tyler, who was cringing behind them.

"And that's why we don't do this more often," Sam said, rolling her eyes.

"Can we help you, Tyler?" Freddie asked.

"I'm bored," Tyler said simply.

"So you have to interrupt your dad and I?" Sam said.

"Well you guys were being gross," Tyler said, making a face.

"Don't you have homework or something?" Freddie snapped.

"I finished it," Tyler replied. He looked over at Sam. "Mom? Can you come out to the backyard with me and throw around the football?"

"Fine," Sam conceded, getting to her feet.

"Whoa, why don't you ever ask me to play catch with you?" Freddie frowned. "That's like, the definition of father-son bonding time!"

"Mom throws better," Tyler shrugged.

"It's true," Sam smirked, giving Freddie one last quick kiss. "Besides, you need to go pick up Emma soon. She's at her friend's house right now but she needs to be back by six because she promised to help me with dinner tonight."

"Alright," Freddie agreed. "But just know, Tyler, I do happen to have a pretty wicked arm on me. I can throw."

"Of course you can," Sam said in a patronizing voice. "Whatever you say, baby."

…..

Freddie parked his car outside Emma's friend's house, checking his watch. While he was out, he wanted to swing by the comic book shop and pick up Gibby's birthday present; a first-edition Galaxy Wars novel.

"Alright, Emma, let's go," Freddie said, texting his daughter that he was out front. "The store closes in twenty minutes."

Five minutes had passed, though, and Emma still had not come out to the car.

"Well, looks like it's time to pull out the embarrassing dad role," Freddie sighed, getting out the car. He knew Emma would probably be mad that he had gone up to the door to get her, but he needed to get to that comic book store.

He rang the doorbell of the house and waited for a few moments before a woman about his and Sam's age answered.

"Hi," Freddie smiled, recognizing the woman from a few of Emma's soccer games. "Um, I'm Emma's father, and-"

"Oh, Mr. Benson, this will save me a phone call," the woman said.

"You were going to call me?" Freddie frowned. "Why? Is everything okay?"

"No," the woman sighed. "I'm afraid there's been a…situation."

"Is Emma okay?" Freddie asked, worried.

"She's…well, I suppose it will depend on your definition of 'okay," the woman said slowly. "She's not hurt."

"What happened then?"

"Well while I was still at work, my daughter, Sharron, your daughter and a few more girls from the soccer team were all hanging out in my basement," the woman explained. "I came home a few minutes ago and, well…."

She took a deep breath. "They've all been drinking beer."

"Beer?" Freddie repeated. "Are you serious?"

"My older daughter must've bought it for them," the woman said heavily. "I'll of course be having a word with her…I'm very sorry, I didn't think they would do such a thing."

"Y-Yeah," Freddie said slowly, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that his daughter had been caught drinking. "Neither would I."

"I'm in the middle of calling all their parents to come pick them up," the woman continued, opening the door wider so Freddie could step inside. "Emma's right through here."

Freddie followed the woman into the living room, where he immediately spotted Emma sitting on the couch with five other girls, giggling.

"Emma," the woman said, causing the girls to fall silent. "Your father's here."

"Daddy…hi!" Emma said, her words slightly slurred.

"Let's go, Emma," Freddie said firmly, trying to stay calm until they at least returned to his car.

Emma slowly got to her feet, stumbling a bit as she walked towards her father.

Freddie quickly grabbed her shoulder to balance her as he turned back to the woman. "I'm really sorry about this…I-I have no idea why she would-"

"I understand, I'm just as shocked in my own children," the woman nodded.

"Her mom and I will deal with her when I get her home," Freddie assured her. He looked back down at Emma. "You're in some serious trouble, young lady."

"Why?" Emma asked, confused.

Freddie shook his head. "Come on."

When Freddie and Emma returned home, Emma had stopped giggling finally, but she was still unable to walk in a straight line. She nearly knocked over the coat rack as they entered the house and Freddie guided her over to the armchair where she at once fell back.

"Stay here," Freddie said sternly.

"Okay…" Emma said in a dazed voice.

Freddie quickly headed out to the backyard where Sam was still playing catch with Tyler.

"Sam?" he called out to her. "Can you come in here, please?"

"I swear, I didn't do that to your War of Warlords sword," Sam said at once. "It must've been…a burglar."

"Sam, I really need you," Freddie said, and Sam could tell by his face that this was something serious.

"Keep working on your throws, Ty, I'll be back in a sec," Sam said, tossing the football back to Tyler as she went inside. "What's up?"

"Emma's drunk."

"What?"

"Her and her little soccer friends got ahold of some beer while they were hanging out," Freddie said, his voice almost shaking.

"Is she okay?" Sam asked.

"Go see for yourself," Freddie told her, nodding over to the living room.

Sam hurried into the room where Emma was still slumped in the armchair.

"Hi mom," Emma slurred.

"Oh jeez," Sam sighed, looking over her daughter. "She's out of it."

"Well she can get back into it while I yell at her!" Freddie snapped. "Emma! What were you thinking?"

"Ow," Emma frowned, covering her ears. "That's loud."

"You're darn right it's loud!" Freddie yelled. "You're seventeen! You shouldn't be drinking beers! This is unbelievable! I don't even know where to-"

"Okay, Freddie, calm down," Sam said to her husband. "Don't yell at her right now."

"Don't yell-Sam! She's drunk!" Freddie exclaimed. "What am I supposed to do? High-five her?"

"Yell at her when she's sobered up," Sam said. "You're not going to get anywhere with her right now. Look…you're obviously all riled up-"

"Clearly!"

"Go-Go cool off somewhere," Sam told him. "Please. Let me get her cleaned up and then when she's coherent enough we'll talk to her."

"You can talk to her," Freddie scoffed. "I'm yelling."

….

"Jeez, Emma's so lazy," Ashton said a couple hours later as Sam set dinner on the table. "She's upstairs sleeping; it's seven o'clock!"

"She was…" Sam started, but then spotted Tyler sitting in his seat. "D-R-U-N-K."

"Emma got drunk?" Tyler gasped.

"Oh right…you can spell," Sam frowned.
"No way!" Ashton grinned. "How much trouble is she in? Is she grounded?"

"Try not to sound so happy," Sam said, rolling her eyes.

"Where's dad?" Tyler asked.

"Out in the garage watching T.V.," Sam replied. "He-He's had a rough day, don't bother him."

"I'm here," Freddie mumbled, coming into the kitchen.

"You okay?" Sam asked softly.

"My baby girl is now chugging beers behind my back, so sure, I'm just peachy," Freddie replied.

Sam sighed as she sat down. She knew Freddie was going to take awhile to get over this.

…..

Later that night, Freddie laid wide-awake in his and Sam's bed. He still couldn't believe that his daughter, his little girl, had been drunk. Hadn't it been just yesterday when she had been sitting in the living room playing with Bambie dolls with Ashton? How had they gotten here?

He looked over at Sam, who was fast asleep. At least she seemed to be handling the situation better than him.

Suddenly he heard a loud gagging noise from the bathroom across the hall.

He slowly got out of bed and headed out to investigate.

Emma was sitting on the tile floor next to the toilet, vomiting her guts out.

Freddie sighed. As mad as he was at her, she was still his daughter…

"Here," Freddie mumbled, walking over to her and pulling her long, blonde hair back.

Emma looked up at her father. "Thanks…"

Freddie nodded, grabbing a washcloth from the cabinet and running under the sink. He handed it to Emma. "Wipe off your face, Em."

"I'm sorry, daddy," Emma sniffed as she took the washcloth.

Freddie sat down at the edge of the tub, but didn't say anything.

"I just wanted to try it out," Emma whispered.

"But why?" Freddie asked. "You knew you weren't supposed to."

"I didn't want to be the only one who was too chicken to try it," Emma said.

"Well…you certainly tried it," Freddie said heavily. "Now how was it?"

"I didn't even like the taste," Emma replied. "It was bitter and gross. And now I feel like I'm dying."

"Good," Freddie said. "Maybe that means you won't think of doing that for a long time."

"I won't," Emma said softly, looking down at her lap. "Daddy? Are you mad at me?"

"Very," Freddie at once.

"Oh."

Freddie sighed. "Come here, sweetie."

He wrapped his arms around her. "You made a big mistake," he told her. "I'm disappointed in you."

"I know," Emma said sadly.

Freddie kissed the top of her head. "But no matter what mistakes you make, just know…I'll always love you, okay?"

"I love you too," Emma said.

Freddie gave her a small smile. "You need to get some water in you; your body's dehydrated."

"Okay," Emma said, slowly getting to her feet. "Um, daddy?"

"Yeah?"

"How much trouble am I going to be in?"

"A lot," Freddie told her. "But I'm going to let your mom handle your punishment…she's a lot better in that field than me."