Interlude
Once upon a time, a time that is actually right now, in a state called Seattle…
Sam knows its love at first sight. The people around her fade, everything is muted, and it's like she has tunnel vision; and at the end of the tunnel, there he is. He's glorious, cute, and different. He's everything she has ever wanted. She has been relatively disinterested the others, but he outshines and outclasses them all. She stares at him, and he is stunning.
In all of his neon orange, fluffy, eight legged, octopus glory.
The stuffed neon orange octopus toy is a prize at one of those totally rigged games. The fair Sam is at is small, local, but absolutely adorable. She would never admit it, but she is having so much fun. Sam has sampled the wares of almost every food booth in the fair, all for free because she's on a date, after all, and the man always pays—and pay her man does, though he whines and pretends it's a hassle and acts put out when Sam doesn't share. He's used to Sam by now. She congratulates herself on a job well done. He's trained perfectly.
Now Sam snacks on her third churro, cinnamon getting everywhere, her free arm loosely draped around Freddie's shoulders. She wore the shoes that add extra height to her, just so Freddie would only be a few inches taller than her. She likes it when he cannot use his height as an advantage. Sam has considered wearing heels to match his height, but they make her feel girly and give her blisters.
Sam has had a blast, people watching and making fun of the hopeless people who try their luck at the fair games. Freddie humors Sam, sometimes even joining in her critiquing. He laughs at most of her jokes, and when she goes a little bit too far, he pretends to be disapproving but snickers quietly when he thinks she will not notice. It's endearing, and Sam can't imagine a better way to spend a Saturday evening.
She's been making fun of all the cheap, dinky toys. None of them are worth over a dollar or the time to play a game, she's been saying all night. Freddie shrugs. He has tried a few games, has won the majority of them, but has politely turned down the prizes. He doesn't want the toys and Sam refuses to be the girlfriend who carts around the stuffed animals all night like trophies showing how awesome and wonderful and talented their boyfriends are.
Sam doesn't like to fall under stereotypes, even if she knows that Freddie really is awesome and wonderful and talented. He's a far better man than any of the other overly buff or mustached or tattooed idiots walking around the fair with their simpering, ditzy girls hanging off of their arms. Sam doesn't openly brag about Freddie, because that would give him a big head. Instead, she conveys her pride and satisfaction in a way Freddie doesn't and will never understand: girl body language.
Freddie is distracted by the feris wheel, and Sam takes the opportunity to put her hand in his back pocket and squeeze. She glares at the duo of blonde bimbos that have been eyeing Freddie for the past few minutes as she does this, to stake a clear claim. Then Freddie flinches from the sound grope and flushes, looking back at Sam and saying in that embarrassed, exasperated, fond tone, "Sam." She just smirks at him and drags him off to the cotton candy cart.
There are many other times.
In the funhouse Sam takes advantage of a dark corner and kisses Freddie, sweet and slow, and keeps it chaste. Giddy, Freddie grins at her widely when they part. Sam pushes him forward, saying that if they spring any booby traps he'll be her human shield, but as she says it she smiles smugly in the direction of a group of young girls who are staring after Freddie wistfully.
Sam lets Freddie hold her hand when they go on the small rollercoaster, because she knows he hates heights and because she wants to dissuade the determined-looking redheaded woman sitting behind them. After they get off of the ride, Sam loops her arm around Freddie, supporting him as he shakily walks away from the rollercoaster. The redheaded woman does not approach them. Sam later sees the woman accosting a cocky, handsome man at the star shoot-out range.
Sam lets Freddie sink his spoon into her ice cream, but lunges forward and puts the spoon in her mouth, Freddie still holding it, before he can eat it. Sam locks eyes with Freddie as she slowly lets the spoon go, ice cream melting in her mouth. Freddie's eyes go dark but he remembers where they are. He excuses himself and goes over to watch bumper cars and calm down. Sam raises her eyebrow as the girl in the ice cream booth, who tries not to let her disappointment show. Sam shots the girl a look, because the girl had been eyeing Freddie up shamelessly as he ordered, and goes over to Freddie.
Sam lets Freddie offer to win prizes for her and declines every time. She's touched he's offered, but Sam is far better at all of the shooting games and none of the toy prizes have struck Sam's fancy. Finally, as Freddie resigns himself to not winning Sam anything, to loosing a chance to be her knight in shining armor, Sam sees the octopus.
It's sitting amongst teddy bears and beach balls, conspicuously out of place. Sam doesn't even know why the beach balls are a prize. They live in Seattle, Washington, hardly good beach weather unless you went down to California. But Sam knows that she likes this octopus, and could see herself carrying it around the fair. It's small, but Sam would carry it far prouder than any of the girls with life seize stuffed dogs or frogs. Sam immediately wants it, but is hesitant to ask Freddie.
Somehow, inexplicably, Freddie knows. He does it so causally it takes Sam a few weeks to realize he had done it purposely. They wander around the fair, circling around, always coming back to the game booth with the octopus. Every time Sam determinedly does not look at the octopus. After a while, it gets dark and everything lights up, and Freddie has yawned a few times already; soon he will be tired and want to go home. Sam looses hope. She isn't going to ask for the octopus. She can't win it herself. She's hopeless at knocking the milk bottles down, which is what the octopus' game is, and she tries to forget about it.
But then Freddie hands her ten bucks and tells her to go and get a funnel cake. She instantly rushes off, knowing that Freddie has given her ten dollars because he knows her; he knows she will get two funnel cakes and a large soda or something else extravagant that she will somehow manage to polish off. Sam impatiently waits in line and orders. The funnel cakes come, smothered in chocolate and topped with strawberry and whip cream, and Sam breathes the smell in. They're fresh and steaming with heat.
Sam delights in the fried goodness. She eats one before deciding to head back to Freddie. There have been far too many girls giving Freddie the eye and/or checking him out. Sam is lucky Freddie is so oblivious; otherwise he would be much more arrogant and insufferable. The two of them together would be disastrous then.
When Sam comes back, Freddie isn't where she left him. Instead, she sees him mid-motion, throwing a whiffle ball at a stack of milk bottles that are probably unfairly weighted down. Sam rushes over, eyes fastened onto the ball as it flies. She reaches Freddie just as the ball connects, impossibly knocking down all of the bottles.
Sam knows she's gaping but she can't stop. She's thinking—how did he know? How did Freddie know? Because the guy in the booth is congratulating Freddie and gesturing at all of the toys; and Freddie is pointing at the octopus, Sam's octopus, and then the guy hands him it. Sam is dumbfounded, funnel cake forgotten in her hand, as Freddie turns and faces her with a huge, brilliant grin on his face and a neon stuffed octopus toy in his arms.
"Here you are," Freddie says, and he takes the funnel cake from Sam's hand, swapping it for the octopus.
Sam numbly accepts the toy, knowing her hands are coated in powdered sugar but not knowing what to do. At a loss, she clears her throat and stares at Freddie. For perhaps the first or second time in her life, Samantha Puckett cannot find any words to say. A snarky comment or joke won't fit here, she knows, so she says nothing at all.
And perhaps, with her silence, says everything and all.
Then she realizes Freddie is eating her funnel cake and the strange mood breaks; she whacks him with her octopus, grabbing back the funnel cake and flinging sugar all over him in the process.
They're both laughing hard and when the night is over, they and the neon orange octopus are completely covered in powdered sugar; and maybe Sam leans over and kisses Freddie's cheek, removing the sugar in the shape of a pair of lips, but that doesn't make her a sap.
…there were two people who were very much in love; even though they had incredible odd ways of showing it.
