I dug in my closet, searching desperately for that old costume I used in Sam's dream therapy so many years prior. Unfortunately, I don't keep my closet very neat, so I can never find things not used on a daily basis; in other words, the costume was suffocated and hidden after years of neglect.

I threw shoes, pants, and a few items of questionable food out into the open, hoping that maybe my monster suit was there. Nothing. I went further and further to the back of my closet, and my hand finally touched the somewhat familiar fishnetting on the suit.

"Yes!" I said, lifting it out of the closet. I did a quick victory dance, but stopped mid-cabbage patch when I looked down onto the floor. Generally the entire contents of my closet were lying on the ground, reminding me of some sort of battleground. I shrugged. "I'll get it later." I jumped over everything and left the room.

"Found it," I announced, tossing it over the back of the couch beside Sam.

She smiled up at me. "It's so dusty."

"Well, yeah, it's like five years old. Dust tends to be attracted to old things."

She touched the arm part. "Dude, memories."

I nodded. "Totally. So it actually worked?"

"Yeah! You should be a therapist or something. Scaring me half to death got rid of that dream."

We sat in silence, Sam observing the costume while I sipped the forgotten tea. It tasted like peppermint.

"Spencer?"

"Hmm?" I asked over the rim of my mug.

"I never did thank you."

I shrugged. "You're Sam; you don't really have to say it."

She scrunched up her eyebrows. "What does that mean?"

"It means you've got your own special ways of saying 'thanks.'"

Sam turned to face me, draping her arm over the back of the couch, leaning in with interest. "Do tell," she said, smiling.

"Well, in this case, you thanked me when you told off Lewbert after he accused me of not paying rent. That was pretty awesome."

"I've never seen a grown man whine like that," Sam replied. "And besides, he can't even keep track of where he puts his stuff, let alone rent."

I laughed. "You're so right." I glanced over at the clock beside the hallway. "Whoa, it's already almost four. I think I should go off to bed - I've got to go to the unveiling of my sculpture at nine."

I stood up from the couch to leave, when Sam grabbed my arm. "Wait," she said, somewhat unnecessarily. I mean, she already had my arm.

"What?"

Sam opened her mouth to speak, when Carly came in through the front door. "There, it's done. I'm going to bed," she grumbled, more to herself than anyone else. She did a double take at Sam and me in the living room, raising her eyebrows ever so slightly at me. "Am I interrupting something?"

Sam let go of my arm like it was on fire. "I was just asking if Spencer could take my cup to the kitchen before he went to bed. I couldn't sleep and he - made me some tea." Her voice kind of trailed off at the end, like she was making no big deal of it.

Carly nodded. "Cool. You gonna sleep down here? I'm beat from driving around the city in the middle of the night."

"No, I'm going upstairs. Night, Spence."

Carly stood there, and I knew she was watching me as I walked to the sink with the mugs. Her eyes are like lasers.

Finally, I turned around and faced her. "What?" I asked.

"'What' what? I was just looking at the back of your head."

"Liar. Why would you suddenly take such an interest in my cranium?"

"Because I know what you're thinking about in there." She sat down on the couch. "Or, rather, who."

I suddenly yawned and stretched dramatically. "Boy! Am I beat! I'm gonna hit the sack. Night, Carls."

"Sleep tight, Spencer," she called out to me as I jumped into my bed.

The next morning, the sound of a heavy downpour on the roof woke me up. Sleepily, I turned my eyes toward the window. Yup, it was raining. Thanks for the lovely spring day, Seattle.

"No! I already called syrup first!"

"You can't claim the syrup!"

"Then what the hell did I just do?"

"Sam! You can have it in two seconds!"

"I'm not waiting, I already claimed it!"

"Ow! Ow! Okay, here!"

Dude, did I wake up five years in the past? I got up out of bed and poked my head out my bedroom door. Nope, it was definitely present day; but some things never change.

"Hi!" Carly greeted from the kitchen table when she saw me.

"Mornin', y'all." I sat at the table beside Freddie.

"Regular redneck, aren't you, Spencer?" Sam asked, with her mouth full of waffle. She raised her eyebrows. I guess she expected me to answer.

"Yeah, totally. Call me Billy Ray Cyrus."

Freddie laughed. He always appreciated my redneck jokes. "Hey, Sam, pass the syrup."

"Fuck you."

"Sam…" he whined. "I can't eat dry waffles."

"You saying my waffles are dry and tasteless?"

"No, just that the syrup would bring out their deliciousness. Please pass the syrup?" he tried.

"Fuck you," she repeated.

During Sam's and Freddie's argument, Carly's and my head went from side to side like we were watching a tennis match. Except, you know, I wasn't half asleep.

I stacked my plate with waffles. "Hey Sam, can I have the syrup?"

"Oh, sure thing, Spence." She grinned as she handed me the bottle. I could practically feel Freddie rolling his eyes beside me. "Anything for you," she added.

Of course, Freddie took the syrup from me as soon as I was finished.

The four of us chatted for a bit about nothing in particular, like old times. In the background, I could hear a television Sam must've forgotten to turn off.

"I make some pretty killer waffles, eh Carly?" Sam said, nudging my sister as she got another helping.

"They're amazing," Carly admitted. "You have to show me how to make these."

"You mean you weren't down here when she was making them?" I inquired of Carly. Yeah, "inquired." Take that, Mr. Juarez, my tenth grade English teacher that always hounded me with vocabulary.

Carly shook her head. "Sam was already almost done when I woke up."

"So Sam woke up – early?" This time Freddie was asking questions.

Sam shrugged and rolled her eyes modestly. "I wanted to make you guys breakfast. Actually," she added, pointing to me and Carly, "I just wanted to make it for the both of you, but then this kid showed up and I couldn't starve him with his big ol' doe eyes."

"Your eyes are kind of doe-ish," Carly told Freddie.

"So we all agree Freddie has the eyes of Bambi," I butted in. "But what's more important is that Sam makes one delicious waffle." I watched as the corners of her mouth turned up into a little smile and the tops of her ears turned red. Score. I knew that would work.

"Sam's blushing!" Freddie suddenly yelled out, causing me to tear my eyes away from Sam, as much as I didn't want to. As much as I didn't want to not. Yeah. Like I didn't want to not want to look at her. That makes sense okay? At least in my head.

"I am not," Sam said, glaring at Freddie across the table. "I accidentally poked myself with something sharp."

"Sam, it's not against the law to blush. Some guys even think it's cute."

Before I knew what I was doing, my head took on a mind of its own (pun!) and nodded. I hoped no one saw, but I noticed Carly looking right at me and knew she was gonna say something. Oh shit.

"You think blushing is – cute?" Carly asked me, with a face that said she knew exactly what was going on.

I tried to play it cool. "Well yeah, sure."

Sam raised an eyebrow. This time, I avoided looking at her.

A/N: I know, I suck for not updating for forever. I'm sorry! Too much went on "in reality" for me to focus on my fics.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and subscribed to this story while I was away. =))