Dirt
"So, have you and Sam set a date for the wedding yet?" Spencer asked Freddie as the two men, plus Gibby, sat on Sam and Freddie's couch, flipping through channels.
"Not yet," Freddie replied. "We almost did last night, though. We were all set on June 14th, but then Sam realized that that was still two weeks before her Aunt Vila gets paroled, so we have to find a later date."
"Well, whatever date you decide on, make sure it's not a Friday," Gibby said, popping a few potato chips into his mouth.
Spencer and Freddie gave him a strange look.
"What?" Gibby frowned.
"What's wrong with Fridays?" Freddie asked.
"Oh nothing, I just don't like them," Gibby shrugged. "They confuse the chiz out of me. I mean are they part of the weekend or the regular week? There's such a big gray area!"
"We'll keep that in mind…" Freddie said, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, I'm starving."
"Want to order a pizza or something?" Spencer asked.
"Nah, I'm having me some leftover lasagna," Freddie said happily.
"Whoa, you have lasagna?" Spencer said excitedly.
"Yeah, but it's mine," Freddie said firmly.
"Hey! You spent your entire adolescence at my apartment eating from my fridge!" Spencer exclaimed. "I think I'm entitled to a little lasagna!"
"Okay, okay, you can have some," Freddie conceded. "But just one plate. Sam made it last night and it's even better than Pini's! I'm telling you, that girl's got a way with food."
"Hey, can I have some too?" Gibby asked.
"Um…I think you're allergic to it," Freddie lied lamely.
"Oh, okay," Gibby shrugged. "Thanks for looking out, man."
Freddie went into the kitchen and returned with two plates of lasagna. He handed one to Spencer.
"Oh man, this really is good!" Spencer said, taking a forkful. "I had no idea Sam could cook this well!"
"Well she is passionate about food," Freddie chuckled. "How lucky am I to be marrying someone who can take lasagna, a food that's incredible and delicious on its own, and make it ten times better? And it's not just lasagna she can cook; it's chicken, steaks, casseroles, pork chops…last week she made this Fettuccini Alfredo that…I can't even describe it, but let's just say…it made me happier than the final Sky Naut scene in the new Galaxy Wars movie."
"Whoa," Spencer and Gibby said simultaneously.
"Yup, I'm really going to be living the good life now," Freddie said happily. "I went from eating nothing but tofu and beets to eating like a king. I really have it made."
…
"Hey, Sam," Freddie said a few days later, coming into the couple's apartment.
"Hey, I'm in the kitchen," Sam called back. "Also, ignore the kiddy pool in the living room!"
"Why's there a-"
"I said ignore it!"
Freddie stepped into the kitchen, where Sam was standing at the stove, stirring a pot.
"How was lunch with your mom?" Sam asked as he fiancé gave her a quick peck on the lips.
"She wants me to try and convince you to go to her hairdresser before the wedding," Freddie said.
"So I can come out looking like her? Uh, pass," Sam scoffed.
"Yeah, I figured," Freddie chuckled.
"Anyway, I hope you didn't fill up too much at lunch; I'm making stew for dinner," Sam smiled.
"Stew? Sounds great," Freddie said. "But I thought it was my night to cook?"
"I figured I'd give you a break," Sam said sweetly. "After all you did clean the bathroom yesterday."
"Well, I'm not gonna argue," Freddie said. "You know I love your cooking."
"I know," Sam beamed. "Anyway, it should be about another hour. It just needs to simmer."
"Okay," Freddie nodded.
"Which means…" Sam continued, stepping over to Freddie and lacing her hands around her neck. "We have a whole hour to kill before we eat. Any ideas how we can kill the time?"
"Um, I guess we can watch a movie or something," Freddie said. "Or we can-"
He was cut off by Sam kissing him passionately, pressing her body against his. When she pulled away, she looked up at him. "So do you really want to watch a movie?"
"No way," Freddie said promptly, scooping his fiancé up in his arms and carrying her off to their bedroom.
…
"You've never made stew before," Freddie commented later that evening as he sat at the table.
"I thought I'd try something new," Sam said, setting a steaming bowl down in front of him. "I thought it'd be nice to have something hot, since it's been so cold outside lately."
"Well I can't wait to try this," Freddie said excitedly. "I bet it tastes delicious."
"Well go on," Sam grinned, sitting down next to him. "Before it cools down!"
Freddie eagerly lifted his spoon to his mouth. He expected a array of mouthwatering flavors, but instead he was greeted with the most pungent, disgusting taste he had ever experienced. It was as though he had stuck a mixture of sweaty socks, dirt, and old cheese into his mouth!
"So?" Sam said as Freddie struggled not to gag. "How is it? Do you like it?"
"It's-It's interesting," Freddie said lamely.
"But is it good?"
"Um…" Freddie said slowly. There was no way the stew he had just tasted could be considered good, or even edible, by any standard. But he couldn't tell that to Sam! Not only would she probably dump the stew down his pants, but her feelings would be hurt. There was only one thing for him to do…
"Good?" Freddie smiled, picking up his spoon again. "Try fantastic! Sam, this is incredible! One of the best things I've ever tasted!"
"Really?" Sam said. "You really think so?"
"Oh yeah," Freddie said, forcing more of the stew down his throat. "I could eat this every night!"
"Oh good, I was worried," Sam said, relieved. "Well eat up, baby! There's plenty left. I've just got to go send a quick email for work and then I'll join you."
"Okay, take your time!" Freddie called after her. He waited until she was safely out of sight before he bolted up and quickly took his bowl to the garbage can.
"Oh! I'm so sorry, tongue," Freddie cringed as he dumped the contents into the trash. "What's in this? It tastes worse than any of the tofu casseroles my mom made! How can someone who can make mashed potatoes so fluffy they're like pillows make stew that should be used in chemical warfare?"
He took a bottle of water from the fridge and gargled the liquid, trying to get rid of the taste in his mouth. "Let's just hope she never makes this again," Freddie sighed. "I don't think my taste buds can take it."
…..
"I can't believe we finally have a date for our wedding!" Sam said excitedly a week later as her and Freddie sat together on their couch. "It's so official now."
"Yup, on July 11th, you will officially be my beautiful wife," Freddie smiled, wrapping his arms around her.
"And you'll be my dorky husband," Sam beamed, kissing the tip of his nose. "I can't wait."
"Me neither," Freddie agreed.
"And now that we have a date, Carly will finally stop bugging me," Sam said. "She's been wanting to start on invitations for weeks now. I know she's my maid of honor and all, but she's a little too in to this wedding planning stuff."
"Well it's less for us to do," Freddie reasoned.
"True," Sam nodded.
"Anyway, I'm starved," Freddie said. "Want to go out to eat? We can go to that new seafood place."
"Actually, I cooked!" Sam said. "I thought we could celebrate finally picking a date by having a nice night in."
"Oh, that sounds fun," Freddie grinned.
"I even made that stew that you liked so much last week," Sam said happily.
Freddie's smile faltered slightly. "The-The stew?"
"Yeah, you said you thought it was so delicious when we had it last week, I figured I'd surprise you and make some more," Sam nodded. "And I made a double batch, so you can have some tomorrow too!"
"Oh, that-you didn't have to go to all that trouble, baby," Freddie said.
"It was no trouble," Sam said sweetly. "Come on, let me make you a bowl now."
Freddie refrained from letting out a groan as he followed Sam into the kitchen. Eating that stew last week had been hard enough. He didn't know if he could manage to do it again.
"Here you go," Sam said, handing him a large bowl. "Nice and hot."
"Mmmm," Freddie said, plastering a fake smile onto his face. "This looks…yummy. Hey, um, do-do you think that maybe you should call Carly now and tell her we picked a date? I mean she's probably over at her place hyperventilating about this whole thing."
"Eh, I guess you're right," Sam said. "I'll be right back. Hopefully…knowing Carly she'll keep me on the phone for hours trying to go over more wedding details."
"Good luck!" Freddie called after her. He waited a full minute before hurrying over to sink and emptying his entire bowl of stew into the drain.
"Maybe this stuff will help the plumbing," Freddie said as he turned on the garbage disposal. Once his bowl was empty, he glanced over at the stove, where a full pot of the stew was still simmering.
"Man…I have to get rid of all that too, otherwise I'll be eating this stuff for ages," Freddie sighed. "But how…Maybe I can tell Sam a hobo broke in here and stole it. Nah, she's never go for that. I know! I can tell her I saw a spider fall in it! No…she knows I sprayed this apartment with spider repellant the second we moved in. Okay, I'm just going to dump this now and come up with an excuse later. The important thing is that this stuff disappears for good."
He picked up the pot and carefully began to pour the rest of the stew down the drain.
"Ugh, this stuff smells worse than the last batch," Freddie cringed. "Let's just hope she doesn't go and make more of this stuff later and-"
"What are you doing?"
Freddie dropped the pot, and the stew splattered onto the floor and his pant legs. He spun around and saw Sam glaring at him from the entrance of the kitchen.
"Sam!" Freddie sputtered. "I-I thought you were talking to Carly!"
"I got her voicemail," Sam said, crossing her arms. "Now why are you dumping my stew down the drain?"
"I-Um…I-I'm on a new diet!" Freddie lied lamely. "Yeah, and, um, the-the stew was just so good that I-I knew I'd eat it all and I-I just wanted to get rid of the temptation. Be-Because it's so good."
Sam raised an eyebrow, and Freddie knew that she wasn't going to fall for his story.
He let out a sigh. "Okay. Sam, the-the truth is…I-I can't eat this stew. I just don't like it. Normally I love your cooking, you know that! But with this stew I-I don't know! Maybe I just have some tongue infection or something, but I-"
"Of course you don't like it!" Sam snapped. "I made it bad on purpose! It has old beets and sink water in it!"
"I-Huh?" Freddie said, confused. "What do you mean you made it bad on purpose?"
"I mean I sat there and made something I knew you wouldn't like!" Sam said.
"Well why would you do that?" Freddie demanded. "Do you know how hard it was for me to force this stuff down the other night?"
"Because I wanted to see if you would be honest with me, and tell me you didn't like my stew, or if you would go and pull something like this!" Sam retorted.
"What?"
"Freddie, we're going to be married soon," Sam said. "That means we kind of have to get used to telling each other stuff that makes the other uncomfortable!"
"What are you talking about? You tell me stuff that makes me uncomfortable all the time!" Freddie exclaimed. "You always tell me when you think my shirts make me look stupid or when my cologne makes me smell like a gas station or when-"
"I know I have no problem with that," Sam said. "It's you I'm worried about! You're too nice sometimes!"
"I'm too nice?" Freddie repeated.
"Baby, usually I kind of like how sweet you are," Sam sighed. "But you can't spend the rest of you life going out of your way to hurt my feelings. I mean what if I made you that stew every week until we were ninety? Would you go through this every time just to avoid telling me that you didn't like it?"
"Um, maybe?" Freddie said slowly.
"Don't you see how crazy that is?" Sam said. "Look, I don't know too much about this whole marriage, thing, but according to those dumb bridal magazines that Carly and your mom keep sneaking into my purse, communication is sort of a big deal. I-I want you and I to be able to tell each other anything. No matter what."
Freddie looked down at his stew-covered pants and then back up at his fiancé. "You know what? You're right. I-I was being ridiculous. I should've just told you that your stew made me gag."
"There you go!" Sam grinned. "Wouldn't that have been way easier?"
"No chiz," Freddie said. "I wouldn't have this stuff sloshing around in my socks and pants if I had done that."
"Well go take a shower and then we can go out and eat like you wanted," Sam smirked.
"Alright," Freddie agreed. "Sounds like a-"
"Unless," Sam interrupted. "You want to order in and I help you with that shower."
"Help me?" Freddie repeated. "What do you mean help-"
Sam cut him off by plastering her lips to his.
"Oh…" Freddie smiled as he slowly realized what Sam was implying. "I see what you're saying."
"Next thing we're going to work on is making you a little less oblivious," Sam said, rolling her eyes.
