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"How bad is it?" Freddie asked gently as he squeezed Sam's hand.
"Like someone took a knife and jammed it in my gut," Sam answered miserably. "My insides are on fire."
"Want to try some ginger ale again?" Freddie asked, kissing her temple.
Sam shook her head. "No…I'll just puke it up like last time."
"Well Sam, you haven't anything to eat in twelve hours," Freddie said. "Which I'm sure feels like a century to you. Your mom told me the last thing you ate was that burger that gave you the food poisoning."
"Well when you feel like this, I'm sure you'll see that your appetite pretty much disappears," Sam mumbled. She pulled her blankets up closer to her. "Look, um, it was sweet of you to stop by and all, but…you can leave. I'm sure you have other stuff you'd rather be doing than sitting by your girlfriend's bedside while she suffers from food poisoning."
"Nah, I have nowhere else to be but right here," Freddie chuckled. "So where did you get this burger that did this to you anyway?"
"I made it myself," Sam mumbled.
"Uh-huh…and how long did you cook the meat for?" Freddie asked.
"I dunno, like…forty-five seconds," Sam shrugged.
"Right," Freddie said, rolling his eyes. "Well maybe next time you might want to try just a little longer."
"You know I like my burgers rare," Sam said. "But seriously, baby, you-you can go back home. You have that history test tomorrow, don't you?"
"Yeah, but I think I've studied enough for it," Freddie said.
"Well what about your mom?" Sam pointed out. "It's almost nine o'clock; she's going to call in the U.S. army soon."
"My mom's at work until midnight," Freddie replied. "Relax, Sam. I want to be here with you. I wish I could've been here sooner, actually. But, well, I had school and then Spencer got stuck to something and Carly was out so I had to help him. Anyway, speaking of school, you really missed out on some great new Briggs material. She went through the entire class with this giant piece of lettuce stuck in between her teeth. I tried to sneak a few pics for you, but she would never stand at quite the right angle…"
"Mmmm," Sam simply moaned in response.
"I also picked up your homework and classwork that you missed too," Freddie continued. "But don't worry; I'll keep that far away from you until you're one hundred percent better. In the meantime, I brought over some of those Mad Libs that you like. Thought we could do a few of those. Also, there's a Girly Cow special on in fifteen minutes that we can watch together and-"
"Freddie, please," Sam groaned.
"What is it, baby?" Freddie frowned. "Want me to get you some more antacids?"
"No, I-Please just go," Sam begged.
"Sam, I-what's the matter?" Freddie asked. "Are you mad at me or something?"
"No," Sam moaned.
"But then why don't you want me here?" Freddie asked, confused. "Are you tired or something? Is that it?"
"I'm not tired!" Sam snapped. "I just-Give me that bucket!"
"What?"
"That bucket!" Sam exclaimed, pointing to the pink bucket next to her bed. "Now!"
"Why do you need-" Freddie asked as he quickly handed her the bucket. His question was cut short, as Sam ducked her head into the bucket and loudly vomited up the entire contents of her stomach.
"Oh…that's why you needed the bucket," Freddie said as he carefully pulled Sam's hair for her.
"Sorry," Sam muttered once she was done, looking anywhere but her boyfriend.
"Don't apologize; throwing up is kind of an infamous symptom of food poisoning," Freddie chuckled.
"Yeah, but I didn't want you to see me puke my guts up," Sam said, and Freddie was surprised to see that her cheeks were red. "I warned you; I tried to spare you."
"Sam seriously, it's fine," Freddie smiled. "Besides, I'm pretty sure I've seen you throw up over the years. Remember the time when we were fourteen and we stuffed ourselves with coconut cream pie? Or after we went to Mystic Mountain and you rode the Demonator twenty-three times in a row. Or-"
"But we weren't dating back then," Sam pointed out. "I didn't care if you saw how gross I was! Now…Now I guess I…I guess I sort of care."
"Aw, Sam," Freddie grinned. "I don't care about you being gross in front of me. You think I suddenly love you less because you barfed? Of course not!"
"But it's…icky," Sam said lamely.
"So?" Freddie shrugged. "If someone only cares about a person when they're all made up and proper…then they don't really care about them. I love you Sam, whether you're all decked out in a sparkling gown or in bed wearing old sweats while you throw up profusely."
Sam smiled as she stared down at her lap. "Well speeches like that might make me puke even more, you know…"
Freddie chuckled as he rolled his eyes. "Do you still want me to leave? I will if you want me to."
"No," Sam said softly. "I want you to stay with me."
