Excess
"So I figure we should be done in an hour, tops," Sam told Freddie as she led him down the hallway towards her room. "Then you and I can catch that movie."
"Alright," Freddie nodded as Sam opened her door. "But let's try and hurry, because there's supposed to be a trailer for the new-holy chiz!"
He looked around Sam's bedroom, or rather, he looked around the piles of clothes, snack wrappers and who knew what else that covered his girlfriend's room.
"Yeah, okay, it's a little messier than I said," Sam shrugged.
"A little-Sam!" Freddie sputtered, still taken back by the sight. "This looks like there was an explosion in here! An explosion of old shoes, bacon wrappers, and-is that a lawnmower?"
"Oh yeah, see, I was doing this little experiment-"
"I don't want to know," Freddie said quickly. "But seriously, baby, I've seen dumpsters more organized than this."
"Alright, alright, I get it," Sam snapped. "Let's just hurry up and clean this up so we can get to the movies."
"Sam, this is an all day project right here," Freddie told her. "There's no way we'd be done in time for the movies."
"Well it's not my fault my mom's gone all batty and decided to try this whole parenting thing," Sam said. "I told you, she took my phone and she won't give it back until I have this place cleaned up. I blame her new boyfriend. He's one of those hotel maids and a total neat freak and-"
"Okay," Freddie sighed. "I guess…I guess we can just skip the movie and spend the rest of the day cleaning your room so you can get your phone back."
"Thanks, Frednub," Sam smiled, giving him a quick peck. "See, this is why I keep you around."
"But if I'm going to help," Freddie continued. "You have to promise you're not just gonna sit around here all day while I do all the work. You have to do your fair share."
"Of course," Sam nodded, sitting down on her bed and picking up a magazine. "I'll leaf through this to see if it's worth saving or if we should throw it away."
Freddie rolled his eyes, knowing full well that he would be doing at least ninety-nine percent of the cleaning.
"Well, I'll start over here," Freddie said, maneuvering his way through the mess towards one corner of the room. "Now, I think we need to establish a clear organization system first. I'll put all the trash in one garbage bag, and then anything that you want to keep, we can-"
"Yeah, sounds good, baby," Sam said, not looking up from the magazine.
Freddie shook his head as he began going through the small mountain of junk in front of him. "Let's see…empty bag of cheese puffs, trash. Half-eaten apple, trash. Hey! I found your trig book!"
"You can trash that too," Sam smirked.
"That goes in the save pile," Freddie said, setting the book aside. "Once we, or I, clean off your desk, I can get all your school stuff set up there for you. Maybe if you have a neat, organized work space, you'll be more motivated to actually do your homework from time to time."
"Sure," Sam said. "And maybe your mom will sign you up for skydiving lessons."
"You're lucky you look so cute when you're being sarcastic," Freddie grinned, turning back to the pile in front of him. "Okay, we've got a bunch of shoes…we'll set those here for now, some walnut shells, a boomerang, a pair of Numchucks, a-hey, is this mine?"
He held up a wrinkled men's shirt.
"Oh, no, it's not," Sam said. "That's Court's."
"Court's?" Freddie sputtered, his eyes widening. "Court? As in our idiot, brain-dead, moronic ex-intern, Court?"
"Do we know any other Courts?" Sam said. "Yes, it's his."
"Okay," Freddie said, trying to stay calm. "Well…would you mind explaining to me why his shirt is here in your room?"
"Oh calm down," Sam said. "It's from ages ago."
"Still not really making me feel better."
"Come on, you remember when we fired him how I tricked him into taking his shirt off so Carly and I could get one last view at his insane body before he left?" Sam said.
"His body was not insane," Freddie said indignantly. "It was…stupid."
"Well, anyway, that's the shirt," Sam said. "That's all it's from. I haven't even seen the guy since you made us fire him."
"Oh," Freddie said, his heart rate slowly returning to normal. "Oh…okay then. Sorry I lost my cool there."
"Can't lose what you never-"
"I'll just put this in the trash pile then," Freddie said, forcefully balling up the shirt. "And then I can get back to-"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Sam said, jumping off the bed. "You can't throw that away!"
"Why not?" Freddie demanded.
"Because," Sam said. "Because, it's-it's a souvenir."
"A souvenir! Sam, key chains are souvenirs. Postcards are souvenirs. Shirts from senseless pretty-boys aren't souvenirs!"
"Yeah, but-but…"
"What, do you have a crush on him or something?" Freddie scoffed. "Do you drool all over this shirt every night?"
"No!" Sam snapped. "I forgot I even had that thing!"
"Well then why can't I throw it away?"
"Why do you have to make such a big deal over it?" Sam retorted. "It's a shirt! It's not like I'm running around making out with the guy!"
"It is a big deal!" Freddie exclaimed. "What guy would be happy about finding out his girlfriend is all attached to a shirt that belonged to some guy who she used to gush over? Some guy who was taller, stronger and more attractive than him?"
"You're being ridiculous!" Sam groaned, frustrated. "I never gushed over Court! He was like some-some clueless puppy, that's all! And for your information, Court's not more attractive than you, you nub! You happen to be very good-looking and sexy and muscular! So why don't you stop flipping out over a shirt? Man! Every time I think you can't possibly get more annoying, you go and prove me wrong!"
Freddie blinked. "You-You think I'm good-looking?"
"No, Freddie, I think the guy I've been dating for the past year is hideous," Sam said, rolling her eyes. "Yes I think you're attractive!"
"More attractive than Court?"
"Yes!" Sam snapped.
"And-And you said sexy," Freddie said. "You-You meant that too?"
"Yes! Jeez, you want me to write it down for you?"
"Wow," Freddie said. "Well…thanks."
"Dude, what's your problem?" Sam asked, lowering her voice slightly. "You're my boyfriend. You should know I think you're attractive and sexy and all those other things."
"I know, I know," Freddie sighed. "It's just, I dunno, I guess it's just that around the time Court showed up was around the same time I-I was starting to realize me feelings for you. I had been going to the gym secretly for months to try and get your attention when he just waltzed in and made me look like some dork. I guess seeing his shirt just, you know, brought back some old memories."
"Aw, baby," Sam smiled, putting an arm around him.
"I know, it's totally lame," Freddie said.
"Well…yeah," Sam agreed, leaning up to give him a quick kiss. "But lame in a cute way. By the way…I noticed."
"What?"
"You think I didn't notice your muscles suddenly bulging out of your shirts back then?" Sam grinned. "I wasn't blind, Freddie. Why do you think I kept challenging you to all those arm wrestling matches?"
"You were totally checking me out, weren't you?" Freddie smirked cockily.
"You ever repeat that, and you're dead," Sam said, swatting his shoulder playfully. "But yeah…a little bit."
Freddie laughed as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a deep kiss.
"Listen," he said when they pulled apart. "I'm sorry I acted so crazy over the shirt. It is just a shirt."
"Yeah, well…I guess, I guess if it means so much to you, I-I'll get rid of it," Sam said.
"You will?" Freddie said.
"But," Sam added quickly. "We're not throwing it away. If Court ever strikes it big on the runway, this could be worth a buttload of cash."
"Well then what are you going to do with it?" Freddie asked.
"I have an idea…"
…..
"So Carls," Sam said later that day, throwing the door of the Shay's apartment open as her and Freddie walked inside. "You know how I owe you roughly two hundred dollars for various snacks, mall trips, and smoothie runs?"
"Um…sure," Carly said, looking up from the movie she had been watching on T.V. "But why are you-"
"Well, I have a proposition for you," Sam said. "I can either pay you back the money I owe you, or…"
She reached into her bag and pulled out Court's shirt. "I can give you this."
"What is that?" Carly frowned. "Why would I want some wrinkled old boy shirt?"
"This isn't just any boy shirt, Carly," Sam grinned. "This is Court's shirt."
Carly gasped as she jumped to her feet, spilling the bowl of popcorn that had been resting on her lap all over the floor. "Court's shirt? As in the gorgeous, adorable, beautiful ex-intern Court?"
"The very one," Sam chuckled. "Remember how I got him to take off his shirt after Freddie-"
"-Rudely made us fire him, yeah, I remember," Carly nodded. "How could I forget such a view?"
Freddie rolled his eyes.
"So, which will it be?" Sam asked. "You want the two hundred bucks? Or Court's old shirt?"
"The shirt, duh!" Carly said at once, grabbing the shirt from Sam's hands. "Aw…it's like having a piece of him back in my life!"
"Good choice," Sam said. "Because I didn't have two hundred bucks."
"Unbelievable," Freddie said, shaking his head. "I can't believe she gave up two hundred bucks for a shirt!"
"It's not just a shirt!" Carly snapped. "It's a souvenir from the best two weeks we ever had!"
"Well you enjoy that, kid," Sam said. "Use the sleeve to wipe some of that drool off your face. Freddie still has a lot of cleaning to do in my room, so we're gonna head back to my place."
"Oh, well alright," Carly said. "Good luck with that, Freddie. I've seen her room. You may need a bulldozer to get through all that junk."
"Probably," Freddie agreed.
As the two turned and left the apartment, closing the door behind them, Freddie took Sam's arm in his hand.
"What?" Sam asked.
"Here, I-I got you something," Freddie said, his face flushing red as he rummaged through his backpack. "You know, since-since you gave up Court's shirt, I thought maybe you could use this."
He pulled out one of his own old t-shirts and handed it to Sam. "I-I even made sure it didn't have any stripes on it."
Sam rolled her eyes as she took the shirt, but stood on her toes and kissed her boyfriend passionately.
"Thanks, Frednub," she whispered. "But stop stalling; Mama's room isn't going to clean itself."
