iMake A New Friend

Saturdays were typically Sam and Carly's day of rest, free of doctor's appointments, work, or other miscellaneous obligations. Sam typically left Carly to sleep in or lounge around the apartment as she took care of the household chores, including a trip to the market for groceries.

Today, however, was different. Today, Carly Puckett felt like venturing outside of the apartment for a little while. True to form, not even a trip to the market was without incident, where Sam was concerned. She had nearly mauled Lewbert for shrieking at them in the lobby. If their relationship or the fact that Carly was with little mini-Cupcakes made him uncomfortable, he'd at least learn to hold his tongue. It had taken Carly whispering gentle nothings into Sam's ear to keep things from getting extremely fighty. Sam had cursed him a blue streak and said that if gay couples made him so uncomfortable, maybe she and Carly would take their monthly fees, inherited from a contrite Steven Shay, across town to the Elliott Bay Towers.

Carly yanked Sam by the wrist the minute they were outside. She appreciated her partner's loyalty, but that was a bit much, even for Sam. The little brunette was rough with Sam for the first time in their life together.

"Sam! What the hell was that all about?"

"Nobody is that rude to my Cupcake and gets away with it…"

"It's Lewbert. He can't help how he is… He's just an awful little man…"

"Cupcake…"

Carly let the matter drop. She gave Sam a hug, right there in front of the building. She kissed her roughly on the cheek, solely to make a point. She loved her dearly. Judging from the shriek coming from inside the building, Lewbert had seen and was distressed by it. Carly didn't care. Her days of living for other people's approval were long over. She took Sam by the hand and walked toward the parking garage. If it had simply been Sam, she'd have no problem carrying multiple bags home. The Cupcake joining her now necessitated use of the car.

HALF AN HOUR LATER…

Sam Puckett was a woman on a mission. She rounded the corner into the next aisle at a fairly good clip. It was, of course, time to stock up on pasta, given the surprise dinner she had in mind for Carls tonight. Carly fussed at her about speeding. Turning the corner, Sam nearly hit another shopper – with a cart full of groceries – head on.

It was someone she recognized. Carly's jaw was hanging open, half out of fear that Sam would cause a pile-up right here in the middle of Aisle 9, half in shock over who her partner had just run into.

There, minus the lab coat, was her doctor, accompanied by the woman she'd seen in the photograph on her desk during her most recent appointment. She fumbled for words, as Sam jumped in, trying to sound cool.

"Uh… um… Hey Doc, sorry about that…"

When things like this usually happened, Sam typically lapsed into Italian, offering a few choice phrases lifted from a childhood spent at Uncle Carmine's right hand. This was obviously out of the question. The foursome immediately stopped shopping and decided to talk.

Carly smiled politely at her doctor as she introduced her partner to them. She felt awkward, seeing Dr. Sharkey out in public like this. She was a wonderfully pleasant woman, and she'd like to think that they could otherwise be friends, but to see her here, completely by happenstance – it felt as though she and Sam were intruding on their private life together, and it wasn't their business.

Though she was off the clock, she was always a doctor.

"You feeling okay, Carly? Any pain? Any problems?"

Carly couldn't resist. She rolled her eyes dramatically in Sam's direction.

"Not unless you count this one…"

The doctor and her partner laughed, almost in unison.

"See? I told you she was funny…"

Carly wasn't a hundred percent sure she liked being discussed over her doctor's breakfast table, but she knew that this woman wasn't the type to share intimate details about her patients lives, either. Besides which, Carly did pride herself on her sense of humor.

Sam spoke up. She knew what she needed to do – what her sense of decorum dictated.

"Hey Doc, look, I'm … well… Why don't you join us for dinner tonight… the both of you?"

Carly's doctor looked green around the gills. It wasn't that she found the invitation itself distasteful – far from it. The fact of the matter was that Carly was her patient, and her personal code of ethics wouldn't allow for sharing a meal with a patient and her significant other in their home. It just wasn't good boundaries. She told Sam this as politely as she could. It wasn't personal, but Carly was her patient.

This hadn't sat well with the light of her life. She was immediately reprimanded, albeit in that cute, playful tone that showed that their relationship was as strong today as it was that day nearly a decade ago, when they had been in Carly and Sam's position – high school best friends realizing that they were something more.

"Oh honey, please… They're not going to take your medical license away for accepting a dinner invite!"

Carly knew immediately that this thin, raven-haired woman was 'Sam' in their relationship. She was a bit of a spitfire. Carly immediately liked her.

She could instantly see the wheels turning in Sam's brain. It was clear to Carly that Sam liked the doctor's other half as much as she did. It was always clear to Carly when Mama was up to something. Mama had an ulterior motive, no doubt about it.

"Look, Doc… if it's a matter of… I don't know what… how about dinner at my uncle's place? You like Italian?"

She reconsidered when Sam named the restaurant. It turned out that it was one of the couple's favorite places. They ate there maybe three times a month, whenever 'Date Night' rolled around on the calendar.

Sam blushed. Hearing that Uncle Carmine's lobster ravioli was someone else's favorite filled her with a strange sense of pride. She gently handed custody of the groceries over to Carly, pulling her cell phone from the pocket of her jeans. Carly noticed that look in Sam's eye – the one that told her Mama was up to something and not to ask questions. She was speaking to someone – Uncle Carmine, Carly guessed – in fluent Italian.

"What's she doing?"

Carly turned to her new acquaintance, looking her square in the eye.

"Don't ask."

Sam hung up the phone and nonchalantly mentioned a reservation for four at eight that evening.

The couples politely said their goodbyes until later that evening. Walking away, Carly felt heat rising in her face. She adored Sam speaking Italian. It made her all warm and gooey inside. Hearing Sam speak Italian to other people, however, meant that anything could happen. Tonight would definitely be an adventure.