iGive Of Myself

The Bensons sat in semi-seclusion, having wrangled a corner table for lunch at The Palomino, the restaurant where Melanie routinely ate after meetings or recording sessions. For the second Saturday in a row, Mel had been dragged, kicking and screaming, out of her domestic tranquility and summoned to an early morning business meeting. She was like Sam on a good day. She impaled another forkful of her Caesar salad.

"Stupid jackasses…"

He didn't want to have her sit there being grouchy. That solved nothing.

"Sweety, that doesn't sound like very positive talk… They agreed to what you wanted."

She smiled, chuckling at him.

"That's not the point…"

"Then what is the point, oh Mythical one?"

Melanie blushed. She loved being his little Mythical Melanie. She looked at her husband with her very best poker face.

"I'm a diva… I'm supposed to get my way…"

Freddie laughed, taking her hand in his.

"Sweety, let's go home…"

There were times when, although she was brilliant, Melanie Benson was as dense as Sam in Math class. She stared at Freddie blankly. Freddie loved the way her nose wrinkled when she was confused. He continued, unabated.

"Just trust me."

She would. She would trust this man with absolutely anything. She looked twice to be sure, but comprehension finally dawned on her, washing over her like a warm bath – like the warm Saturday bubble bath she was forced to forego this morning, completely throwing off her entire routine. The little light switch in her brain finally clicked. She finally understood what he was really trying to say.

"Check, please!"

ACROSS TOWN, AN HOUR LATER…

Freddie had laid it on thick. He had insisted that she needed to cover her eyes, because he had a surprise for her. Given her past experience, Melanie was sure that one of two things was true: Either her cukey little man-boy had a better poker face than she did or he was being incredibly inappropriate. Regardless of what was true, she couldn't contain her excitement.

"Freddie, Sweety, this is stupid… Can I please open my eyes?"

For the fifth time in the past ten minutes, he told her No.

Mythical Melanie put on her best playful pouty face as he led her through the front door.

"Okay, you can open them…"

Melanie opened her eyes to find the house seemingly the way that they had left it early this morning. She threw her best mock tantrum, shoving him in the chest, stamping her foot like a spoiled little girl.

"You promised me a surprise, you… you… you… you boy!"

It was a perfect tantrum – if she'd been eight years old again. Freddie couldn't help but smile.

"I know I promised you a surprise, Melanie, my love…"

Freddie paused, his voice getting teasingly playful.

"Now… If I were a surprise for Mythical Melanie, where would I be?"

A broad, perfect smile broke across Melanie Benson's face. She kissed her man gently on the lips and broke into a bit of a run. If Freddie had bought her a present, there was only one place in the house that it would be.

MEANWHILE, AT BUSHWELL PLAZA…

"Just hold still!"

Spencer Shay was busy turning his baby sister into art, and Carly was none-too-happy about it, even though it was her idea in the first place.

"Hmmhmmmhmmmpfhmmm!"

Spencer ignored Carly's muffled protests and applied another liberal coat of plaster to her stomach region. She had approached Spencer with the idea months ago, when she and Sam had found out that the IVF had been a success. She wanted to give her wife a gift that only she could.

Sam went out of her way to be Carly's big, strong protector, no matter the fact that Carly hadn't needed her protection in well over a year. Carly had never said anything to Sam about the dynamics of their relationship, aside from that Sam should do whatever made her most comfortable.

Comfortable was something that Carly wasn't at this particular moment in time. It was hard to be comfortable when your big brother had you covered in Lord-knows-how-many coats of plaster, in order to make a life-sized cast of Carly, in all of her glory.

Unfortunately for the Cupcake, Sam had misconstrued what Carly meant. She mistook that to mean that she should do what she thought would make Carly happiest. This was, Carly knew, why Sam had gone insanely butch in the past year. Sam's brain told her that in order to give Carly the best life possible, their life needed to mirror that which they knew.

Carly had gone around and around with Sam on this issue – always in private, in hushed tones – several times in the past few months.

"Sam! I just want to be with you! I don't need you to fit some stereotype..."

"But Cupcake, what about our first date?"

Carly had rolled her eyes at the time.

"Sweety, that was different… Whatever we do in the moment doesn't mean that's the way it always needs to be…"

Carly had won that fight by offering to make Sam a full pound of chocolate-covered bacon as a midnight snack, coupled with the traditional Carly Shay boo-boo lips. It worked every time.

"Okay in there?"

Spencer shook the cobwebs from Carly's brain.

"Mmmhmmmpfff!"

Spencer took that as a 'Yes' and continued working, taking special care not to confuse the hoses at the top of Carly's head. As she was eating and drinking for three, confusing her 'Breathing' hole and her 'Drink' hole would be problematic indeed.

Carly stopped caring. She was encased in gauze and plaster for the sake of art, and it was making her sleepy.

MEANWHILE, AT CASA DE BENSON…

Melanie squealed with glee.

"Freddie Benson! You totally shouldn't have!"

She was right, he shouldn't have, but as chief financial officer of Mythical Music, he had the right to. Freddie Benson had gone ahead and dropped nearly four thousand dollars on the custom Gibson guitar that she'd been gawking at for the past several months at the music store. She certainly could afford it, but wouldn't spend the money on herself. He figured she deserved it.

Melanie shrieked again, jumping up and down this time. She had to share the news with someone, so she decided to call the one person she knew had nowhere in particular to be. Her fingers trembled and she scrolled through her call log and dialed Carly.

Before Melanie knew what had happened, her new toy was safely in the stand at her feet and she was in Freddie's arms. She knew well what was on his mind and she wasn't protesting.

BACK AT BUSHWELL…

Carly's PearPhone danced across the table, playing a sweet little tune.

"Hmmhmmmhmmmpfhmmm!"

Spencer finally took the call.

"Yellow! Carly's phone… Oh hey, Kid… No, she's a little wrapped up right now… Yeah, Okay…"

From the sound she was making, Carly was a mixture of confused and upset. Spencer didn't pay it any mind. He was yelling, simply to be heard.

"CARLY! CALL MELANIE!"

Thankful her brother couldn't see her, Carly rolled her eyes inside what she now thought might be her death mask. Her brother was, simultaneously, Seattle's most talented starving artist and Carly's own idiot-man-child. As she'd realized several Christmases ago, when he'd nearly burned the house down, she wouldn't have him any other way.