Sheep
Sam walked into her boyfriend's apartment at exactly seven-thirty in the morning, as she did every weekday before going off to work. The couple had worked out a system over their past few years of dating; Sam would arrive at Freddie's with two coffees, and he'd have a delicious breakfast waiting for them. The two would then enjoy a peaceful morning together before regretfully giving the other a goodbye kiss and heading off to their separate jobs.
This morning, though, as Sam held Freddie's Chai latte and her own double mocha caramel latte, the usual sent of frying bacon and scrambled eggs didn't greet her.
"Hey, Fredwad, where's breakfast? Mama's starving," Sam said as she walked into his kitchen. "I got you your frilly Chai latte, now where's my-"
But when she stepped into the kitchen, she found it empty.
Sam frowned. Where was Freddie? He wouldn't have left for work this morning.
"Freddie?" Sam called, setting the coffees down on the counter. "Freddie, where are you?"
"Sam?" she suddenly heard a weak voice say from Freddie's bedroom. "Sam, is that you?"
Sam hurried back to the bedroom where she saw her boyfriend lying in his bed, still in his pajamas.
"Dude, what are you doing still in bed?" Sam scoffed. "You have to be at work in an hour! You know, you lectured me last week about being later to work because I stopped to watch two guys fighting in a dumpster yet here you are-whoa…Freddie, you-you don't look so good."
As she sat down on the corner of Freddie's bed she noticed he was very pale and sickly looking.
"I don't feel good," Freddie moaned.
"What's the matter?" Sam asked, her tone softening as she looked down at Freddie, concerned.
"I don't know, I feel all clammy and my head hurts and my stomach is killing me," Freddie mumbled. "I think I caught something."
Sam reached over and gently felt his forehead. "Baby, you're burning up!"
"Wonderful," Freddie groaned. "I'm gonna have to miss work."
Sam gave him a small smile. "You have a fever and you're only concerned with missing work?"
"I have a big presentation next week," Freddie said. "I can't afford to get behind. Can you grab me my laptop? I'll work from bed and send stuff in."
"No," Sam said firmly. "No way, Benson. You're sick. You're not going to work! You're going to stay in bed and I'll take care of you."
"Sam, I'm fine," Freddie said, slowly sitting up. "I just need to-ah! Yup, room's spinning."
"Lay back down," Sam said gently.
"But-Okay," Freddie conceded. "But you can't stay and take care of me. You have work too, you know."
"True," Sam nodded. "But I, unlike you, enjoy having a reason to play hooky every once in awhile."
"Sam," Freddie sighed.
"Fine," Sam said, rolling her eyes. "But if you don't want me, your girlfriend, to stay here and take care of you I guess I'll just have to call your mom to come over here. Hey, I wonder if she still has that special thermometer that you-"
"Alright!" Freddie said quickly. "Just-Just don't call her."
"Good choice," Sam smiled, squeezing his hand. "Alright, well try to get some rest. I'll go get you some medicine and make you something to eat, okay?"
"Okay," Freddie said, settling back down underneath the covers.
Sam leaned down and gave him a soft kiss on his temple before turning to leave the room.
"Sam?" Freddie said.
Sam turned around. "Yeah?"
"Thanks," he yawned.
Sam smirked. "You're just lucky I love you so much, nub."
…
For the entire morning, Sam busied herself making sure Freddie was comfortable. She brought him extra pillows and blankets, made him his favorite soup, got him all his medicine and took his temperature every hour.
"Your fever still hasn't gone down any," Sam told Freddie a few hours later as she took the thermometer from his mouth. "Still 102. You feeling any better at least?"
"A little," Freddie said. "But that might just be because you're here."
Sam rolled her eyes. "Jeez…even when you're practically dying you've got to pull the cheesy lines. You still hungry, though, baby? Want anymore soup?"
"No, I don't think my stomach can handle anymore food," Freddie said.
"Alright, well you should probably go to sleep then," Sam said. "You've been up all morning. Sick people are supposed to sleep a lot."
"I know," Freddie sighed. "I just can't fall asleep, though. My body's too used to being awake at this time."
"I told you, falling asleep anywhere, anytime, is a real skill," Sam said playfully. "You should've taken some notes. But seriously, try. You're not gonna get any better if you don't sleep."
"How am I supposed to sleep if I can't sleep?" Freddie pointed out.
Sam rolled her eyes. "I dunno. Say the alphabet backwards, count sheep, think about different laundry detergents or something boring like that."
"I doubt those will work," Freddie yawned.
"Well how do you usually fall asleep when you don't think you can sleep?" Sam asked.
Freddie gave a small shrug. "Lately…lately I've called you."
Sam blinked. "What? You mean those late night phone calls?"
"Yeah," Freddie nodded. "You know, sometimes when I'm laying in bed and I'm feeling nervous about something or I'm feeling too stressed to sleep I call you and-and you relax me."
Sam laughed. "I relax you? Do you know how many times I've probably made your blood pressure sky rocket since we've been together?"
"Well, sure, you keep me on my toes," Freddie agreed. "But when I talk to you late at night there's something that's just soothing about it. I-I can't explain it."
Sam smiled as she slowly climbed into Freddie's bed and lay down next to him.
"What are you doing?" Freddie asked.
"Let's talk," Sam said softly. "You need to get to sleep if you want to get over this bug."
"Yeah, but I don't want you to get sick too," Freddie said.
Sam leaned down and kissed his lips. "There," she said when she pulled away. "Damage is done. Now what do you want to talk about?"
"How much I love you, for starters," Freddie said as Sam put an arm around him.
Sam couldn't help the blush that crept onto her face. Note to self, she thought. The nub becomes about thirty times sappier when he's sick.
Though she had to admit, she didn't mind that too much.
