Plate
"Hey, hey," Freddie said, letting himself into the Shay's apartment.
"Hey, Freddie," Carly smiled, looking up from the show her and Spencer were watching. "If you're looking for Sam, she's not here."
"I know, that's why I wanted to come over now," Freddie said. "I have a favor to ask you guys."
"Do you need money?" Spencer asked.
"No."
"Fruits?"
"Why would I need fruits?" Freddie frowned.
"I don't know, sometimes people come to me demanding my fruits!" Spencer replied.
"Well I don't need your fruits," Freddie said.
"Okay," Spencer said. "Then what's up?"
"I wanted to know if I could use your kitchen this Friday night," Freddie said. "I want to cook a nice dinner for Sam."
"Sure, I guess that's fine," Carly nodded. "But what's the occasion?"
"She's officially gone three months without getting into any trouble," Freddie said proudly. "A whole new record for her. I wanted to do something to celebrate."
"Aw, that's a sweet idea," Carly smiled. "But do you have any experience with cooking?"
"Nah, but I found some recipes for fried chicken online that seem simple," Freddie said.
"Well, I'm sure Sam will love that," Carly said.
"I hope so," Freddie said. "I have it all planned out; I just need you to keep her out for a few hours Friday evening and then bring her up here, where a giant feast will await her."
"No problem," Carly said.
"Hey, if you want help cooking, I can give you a hand," Spencer offered.
"Er, thanks but no thanks," Freddie said. "No offense, but I really don't want to be near a stove with you around."
"Come on, I haven't set anything on fire in two weeks!" Spencer said. "I've been really-ah!"
The remote that was in his hand suddenly burst into flames. He dropped it and Freddie ran over and grabbed the fire extinguisher, quickly putting out the flames.
"You were saying?" Carly snapped.
"Yeah…I should never be allowed a stove," Spencer said slowly.
….
"I still think you should've bought that cute top from Glitter Gloss," Carly said a few nights later as her and Sam headed up to Carly and Spencer's apartment.
"Eh, I just wanted to get out of the mall," Sam said. "We were there for six hours!"
"More like three," Carly chuckled.
"Yeah, well," Sam shrugged. "Hey, I think I'm gonna go over to Freddie's. His batty mom has the late shift tonight."
"Oh, well, okay," Carly said. "But first, um, why don't you come over with me to look at Spencer's new sculpture? It's really cool; it looks like rhino. I know you love rhinos."
"Can't I just come by later and see it?" Sam asked. "I haven't seen Freddie all day."
"It's getting picked up soon," Carly said. "Come on, it will just take a second."
"Fine," Sam sighed. "You're lucky I'm into rhinos."
Carly quickly unlocked the door and at once the smell of fried chicken greeted the two girls.
"Whoa, what smells like chicken?" Sam asked.
"Your dinner," Freddie said from the kitchen. He had set up the table with candles and a vase of red roses. In his hands he was holding a large platter of fried chicken.
"What's going on?" Sam frowned, confused.
"I wanted to surprise you, baby," Freddie smiled. "You know, since you've gone so long without getting into any trouble. So I made you fried chicken, from scratch, all on my own!"
"Seriously?" Sam grinned. "Aw, Frednub that was so sweet of you!"
"Yeah, I know," Freddie chuckled. "Come on, sit and try some! I want to know what you think. This is sort of the first time I've really cooked anything, but I followed a recipe from the Internet so I think it should be fine."
"Hard to go wrong with fried chicken," Sam said, sitting down. Freddie put a large piece on her plate and watched anxiously as Sam cut herself a small piece and put it into her mouth.
"So?" he said as she chewed. "How is it?"
"Oh my God, it's so good!" Sam said.
"Really? You really like it?" Freddie said.
"Of course, it's delicious," Sam nodded. "Really good job, baby."
"I'm glad you like it," Freddie said. "Oh! I almost forgot, I made sweet tea for us too. There was no room in Spencer's fridge, so I have it chilling across the hall. I'll be right back. Oh, um, Carly-"
"Relax, I'm just gonna grab a jacket and then I'm meeting Wendy down at the Groovy Smoothie," Carly assured him. "Then you'll have my home to yourselves."
"Thanks, you're the best," Freddie said as he hurried out of the apartment. The second he left, though, Sam made a loud gagging noise and spit her chewed up chicken into her napkin.
"What's wrong?" Carly frowned.
"This tastes terrible!" Sam said. "Ugh! It's like I'm chewing old sweat socks!"
"Really? I thought Freddie said he used a recipe he found online," Carly said.
"Well this is the one time the Internet was wrong about something," Sam mumbled. "Or, more likely, Freddie's just not a good chef."
"But you just said it was delicious."
"Well what was I supposed to do? The nub was all sweet and made me dinner!" Sam snapped. "Even I couldn't crush his little heart by telling him his chicken taste like feet! I bet even barbecue sauce couldn't save this."
"Tell Freddie you're full so you don't have to eat anymore," Carly suggested.
"Me? Full? Pfft, he'd never buy that," Sam said. "I'm just gonna have to choke this down and then-"
"Alright, sweet tea for two!" Freddie announced, coming back into the apartment. "Oh…Carly you're still here. Hey, wait a minute, are you hanging around because you want to try some of my chicken that's apparently amazing? It was just supposed to be for Sam, but since you did let me use the kitchen and you took Sam out all afternoon, I could wrap you up some and-"
"Oh no, I'm good, thanks," Carly said quickly. "I ate a huge lunch. Well, I'll go ahead and get out of your hair. Have fun, you two!"
"Lucky," Sam muttered under her breath as Carly ran out of the apartment.
"What was that?" Freddie asked.
"Nothing!" Sam said, forcing another piece of chicken into her mouth. "Mmm, so good."
"I'm so happy you like it, Sam," Freddie said. "I didn't really know what to expect with this whole idea; I've never done any cooking before."
"Well…you-you did cook," Sam said. "And seriously, baby, this was so nice of you. Hey! Since Carly and Spencer are gone, we can go make out anywhere we want without having to worry about one of them walking in! Yeah, let's go do that!"
"Sure, but I can wait until you finish eating," Freddie chuckled. "I know you don't like anything interrupting your meal times."
"Oh…right," Sam sighed. "Hey, are you not having any chicken?"
"Nah, when my mom did her daily inspection of my phone and found the chicken recipe pulled up on it, she flipped out over the fact that I would even consider eating such 'deadly' foods," Freddie said. "So she forced me to eat an entire zucchini loaf before I came over here. I'm stuffed."
"Oh, um, too bad," Sam said.
"Anyway, like I said, I did this for you," Freddie said. "As long as you're happy and eating, I'm good."
"Great…" Sam said, plastering a smile on her face.
Alright, she told herself. Almost halfway done. Just keep forcing it down, Puckett. At least once it's done, you'll never have to eat it again.
…..
Twelve years later
"Ugh, I'm so glad to be home from the hospital," Sam said as her and Freddie walked into their home with their newborn child in her arms. Their fourth newborn child.
"I'm glad you're back too," Freddie said. "We've all missed you around here. Here, let me take him…"
Sam carefully handed over the infant to her husband.
"I bet you're exhausted," Freddie said.
"Oh yeah," Sam nodded. "They brought Tyler in five times last night to be nursed. That kid can eat."
"Wonder where he gets that from," Freddie chuckled. "Hey, why don't you go upstairs and take a nap? Carly still has the other kids at her place, so it should be quiet here for at least a little while longer."
"You know what? I think I will," Sam said. "Thanks, baby. You-"
"Oh, but first…" Freddie grinned. "I made you a pick-me up meal since I'm sure you're more than sick of hospital food. It's waiting for you in the kitchen. It's your favorite, fried chicken. As usual."
"Oh…" Sam said slowly.
Without fail, on every special occasion for the past twelve years, Freddie had honored whatever event it was by preparing Sam his homemade fried chicken. In that twelve years, the taste had not changed one bit; it still tasted absolutely awful, and it still took Sam all she had not to gag each time she took a bite. But for the past twelve years she still plastered on a smile each time Freddie prepared the chicken for her. No matter how much she despised the dish, she couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth about her feelings towards it.
"I made an extra-large serving, so eat up, baby," Freddie said happily, shifting Tyler in his arms.
"Oh I will," Sam said, sitting down at the table in front of the large platter of chicken.
Figures, she thought to herself. I'm finally done with morning sickness and now I have to eat this stuff.
"And guess what?" Freddie said. "I even made myself some chicken too!"
"You did?" Sam said as Freddie set Tyler gently down in his playpen.
"Don't worry, I made my own batch; I'm not taking any of yours," Freddie said. "But I've been running around like crazy with the other three kids while you've been in the hospital, so I decided I could let myself have a special treat. It's weird; I've been making this for you for years and I've never tasted it myself. I'm excited to try it!"
"You-You're gonna have some?" Sam said as Freddie set down another plate.
"Hey, this is nice," Freddie grinned. "Me and you having lunch together, just the two of us. Well, the two of us and little Tyler over there, but unlike his siblings, he's not gonna come running in here crying because someone took his toy or because he wants to go swimming in the mud puddles out back."
"Uh, right," Sam said as she watched her husband cut into his chicken and put his fork into his mouth. As he chewed, a weird expression crossed Freddie's face.
"Huh…is it just me or does this chicken taste a little…off," he said. "Maybe my taste buds are off or something. Or maybe the oil I used was old…Or maybe I just can't eat fried foods like I used to anymore."
"Um, okay, listen, Freddie," Sam sighed.
"Well what do you think? Does this chicken taste different than usual?" Freddie asked.
"Er, no, it tastes exactly the same," Sam said.
"Oh, well guess it is me then," Freddie said. "Maybe I just have a weird taste in my mouth from that new toothpaste my mom dropped off here or-"
"Yeah, I'm sure that's it," Sam said quickly.
Freddie frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," Sam said at once.
"Sam, we just had our fourth child together," Freddie said. "I think I know you well enough to know when something is up."
"I'm just, um, still hormonal from giving birth," Sam said lamely. "Yeah…that's all."
Freddie gave his wife a strange look and then looked back down at his chicken, and then back up at her. Suddenly his mouth dropped in sudden realization.
"The chicken has always tasted this way!" he exclaimed, jumping up. "Holy chiz!"
"Dude, calm down or you'll wake Tyler!" Sam hissed.
"My chicken has always tasted disgusting?" Freddie cried. "Sam, be honest, has it-"
"Yes, fine, it's-it's always tasted…unpleasant," Sam admitted.
"Oh my God…" Freddie mumbled. "You mean for the past twelve years I've been cooking you food that's tasted like old rubber?"
"See, I've always said its tasted like old gym socks."
"Sam!"
"Fine, look…yes, it's true that your fried chicken isn't exactly…edible," Sam said. "But you-"
"Well why did you never tell me?" Freddie asked. "I feel like such an idiot now!"
"Baby, no," Sam said. "I-I never told you because I-I loved how thoughtful the gesture was. And you always had the cutest smile on your face when you would make the chicken for me. I-I just didn't want to hurt your feelings."
"A few nights ago you told me my breathing sounded stupid," Freddie pointed out.
"For starters, I was heavily pregnant then," Sam smirked. "Everything sounded stupid to me. And second…this was different. That chicken was the first thing you made for me. Don't you remember? You made it when we were eighteen and I had gone-"
"-Three months without getting into trouble, of course I remember," Freddie said.
"Yeah, it was the nicest thing anybody had ever done for me," Sam said. "And even though it didn't taste good, I know you had gone to a lot of effort to make it for me. And, crazy as it sounds, that was even more important than the taste of the chicken."
"Whoa…" Freddie said. "You really are still hormonal."
"Plus, at the time, I didn't think I'd ever have to eat your chicken again," Sam added.
"And you're back," Freddie chuckled. "Baby, I can't believe you actually ate this stuff for twelve years just because you didn't want to hurt my feelings. You really do love me!"
"You haven't figured that out by now?" Sam grinned.
"Come here," Freddie said, standing up and pulling her into his arms.
Just then a loud cry sounded from the playpen.
"Well…that was a short nap from him," Freddie sighed.
"Yeah, it was," Sam said. "But…I was promised a nap of my own so…have fun with him!"
