Thank you for the reviews! Sorry if this chapter's a little boring; more action in the next.
Contemplating
Freddie wakes up and stares at the ceiling for some time. He isn't sure why he is staring, just that it's good, mindless staring.
Then he wakes up some more and registers that there's an arm wrapped firmly around his waist and a leg thrown over his hip. Sam snores gently, her head tucked against his neck. They're both lying on their sides and Freddie wonders how he's going to extricate himself this time. Sam's more wrapped up around him than the day before. He considers just waking her up, because he still is the tiniest bit annoyed with her for being so late to dinner and thus ruining his secret proposal plan.
But Freddie can't stay mad—because Sam had apologized last night.
She had taken him by surprise, and it hadn't been a very good apology, at least by normal standards. But the fact that Sam had apologized, had admitted she had done something wrong and had tried to make up for it, was monumental. Freddie had been floored. It had been such a touching, rare, Sam moment that Freddie intends to treasure.
Sam had waited until they had been getting ready for bed, and then had walked over to Freddie, looked him dead in the eye, and said, "Sorry I lost track of time. I didn't mean to. I love you, Fredward."
Before Freddie had recovered enough to begin rubbing it in or teasing her about it, Sam had kissed her determinedly and he had been too reasonably distracted to give it much thought after that. He now lies there, wondering not for the first time how the woman beside him thinks. Sam is an enigma, even after all the years he has known her. He is slowly discovering new things about her, hidden quirks and subtle habits. But it is a painfully slow process, and there are some things Freddie knows he will never understand—most of the time, for the better.
His thoughts stray back to the disastrous dinner and movie last night; Freddie analyzes the night, recognizing new little moments where he could have pulled Sam to the side and popped the question. But he had not done it. Freddie doesn't want to admit to himself, but he faces it: he is terrified. He truly doesn't know what to expect of Sam—she is forever surprising him—and this is such a serious question he doesn't want to risk anything. Freddie isn't confidant that Sam will say yes. He isn't even sure that really loves him, as she's only said she loves him six times. That's close to a thousand in Sam-language, but Freddie is still unsure.
Feeling his mood dropping into despair, Freddie slows untangles himself from Sam, slips on some clothes, and heads out into the kitchen. He doesn't dare to turn the radio or TV on, so he gets the orange octopus toy and sets it on the counter for company. The sight of the orange toy is enough to make Freddie smile.
Freddie starts coffee and toasts some bread. Unlike Sam, the octopus does not monopolize or steal Freddie's food. Freddie munches on his buttered toast, wondering idly what he should do today. He decides that since Sam had visited Carly yesterday, he would do the same today. Carly is their best friend, they are all close. Ever since Freddie and Sam had started dating, however, Carly has become something shared.
Sam has never been very good at sharing.
But Carly and Freddie make time for each other, because they are friends in a way Carly and Sam will never be, and vice versa. Freddie wonders sometimes how he hadn't ended up gay, with two girl best friends. Then he wonders how he hadn't ended up insane, with Sam and Carly as his best friends. Freddie wouldn't trade them for the world, however. They're the best friends he's ever had; and he knows that even if Sam and he ever break up, their friendship will still remain steady.
The very idea his and Sam's relationship ending makes Freddie's stomach turn uncomfortably. He gobbles down the last of his toast and chugs his coffee. He had not expected it to still be warm, so he sputters and flinches when the warm coffee burns his throat as he swallows. Gasping, Freddie stumbles over to the sink and grabs a glass, blindly reaching out for water. He sprays himself for a moment until he manages to get his glass underneath the faucet. Freddie carefully and daintily sips at the water, its coolness soothing his irritated throat. It reminds Freddie of the time Sam had slipped super hot chili peppers into his burger once. Freddie had not been able to taste anything for a week; the first thing he had finally been able to taste had been Carly's chocolate chip brownies.
Suddenly, Freddie knows what he is going to do today. He glances at the clock, but it's far earlier than Sam will tolerate him waking her up. So Freddie shrugs and decides he'll leave a note. He grabs his Pear phone, ignoring an e-mail from Neville, and quietly dials. It rings for a few seconds, and then someone picks up.
"Hello?" a bleary voice asks.
"Hi, Carly," Freddie answers sheepishly, just remembering that Carly sleeps in, though not as much as Sam. He is somewhat of a morning person, which makes it hard to find something to do in his free morning; because most of his friends are non-morning people. "I was wondering. Could I come over for lunch? I'll teach you how to make twice baked potatoes," he adds, knowing Carly loves his potatoes. She completely fails at cooking them, so Freddie is really bribing her.
"Huh," Carly grunts, still half-asleep but conscious enough to understand Freddie's words; or least understand "lunch" and "twice-baked potatoes". "That's cool," she continues, "and I'll make chocolate chip brownies for you."
Freddie smiles dreamily in anticipation. Carly may not be very talented at cooking regular food—though she is extremely good at cooking Spencer's unconventional, but still tasty, meals—but she is an expert at desserts. Her chocolate chip brownies are her specialty and Freddie's favorite. (Sam's favorite is any dessert, really. Sam claims she doesn't like to discriminate or play favorites with her food.)
"Sounds good," Freddie says happily and loudly. Then he remembers he is supposed to keep quiet because Sam is still sleeping. Lowering his voice, Freddie adds, "I've got some news for you, to talk about." His voice is glum, but in her sleep addled state Carly misses that.
"Oh my God!" Carly squeals and Freddie holds the phone away from his ear. When he brings it tentatively back, Carly is still rambling, "—so awesome and I'll take care of her during the bachelorette party and this is so great and I knew you could do it and I better be the Maid of Honor—"
"Carly," Freddie interrupts softly. "I didn't do it."
It takes Carly a minute to absorb this. Then, in a completely different and somber tone, she asks, to clarify, "You didn't propose?"
"No," Freddie sighs. "She got to the restaurant too late, and it just wasn't right." He winces, because he knows how ridiculous he sounds. There isn't a 'right' time to propose, he knows, but it hadn't felt right, proposing to Sam in that restaurant after she had kept him waiting and she had been under dressed.
"Oh, Freddie," Carly says in a sad voice. "I'm so sorry I kept Sam out late. It's all my fault, I should've sent her back to change at least or let her borrow something—"
"Carly," Freddie interrupts again, "It wasn't your fault. I just need to man up." He clears his throat, signaling the end of this discussion for now, and adds, "One sound okay to you?"
Still sounding somewhat troubled, Carly replies, "Yeah, one's fine. I don't think Sam will be up by then though." She chuckles and Freddie joins in. Sam would sleep and eat and annoy Freddie for the rest of her life, and she would be content and blissfully happy.
"See you then," Freddie says, preparing to hang up, but Carly's parting words stop him.
"Freddie, she loves you." Carly says and then, like she hadn't just soothed all of Freddie's unspoken fears, adds brightly, "See you in a couple hours, Freddie!"
Freddie hangs up and sets his phone down on the counter, mechanically going to turn off the coffee pot and checking to make sure the toaster is off. He places his dishes in the dishwasher—Sam, unsurprisingly, never does—and washes his hand, just to give himself something to do while he gathers his mind. Freddie settles on thinking that, after knowing each other for so many years, Carly knows him almost better than he does. Plus, women are an enigma to all men. Women work in mysterious ways, Freddie knows, and even if Sam doesn't act like a lady most of the time, she, too, partakes in this strange female code that hoodwinks Freddie so often.
Freddie contemplates the complicated puzzle that is the female mine and then abruptly thinks about chocolate chip brownies; because while female's minds are stunningly complex and prone to dwell on things, male minds are fickle and usually revert back to food quickly.
