You all know what I don't own, right?

So I was trying to come up with a Valentine's day fic, but I couldn't. So I came up with this instead. I think they're in their senior year in college.

Warning: T for suggestive themes.


Sam was driving home. It had been a pretty disappointing girl's night out. Carly had fallen asleep in her smoothie due to the copious amounts of studying she had done for the finals. Sam had never been too preoccupied with school. Even in college, she was what you would call "chill" towards work. Of course, she had tried a little bit harder in junior year when Freddie and Carly announced they were both aiming for University of Washington. But after they all got in, she reverted to her usual laidback self. And nobody cared because they all knew when the time came, she could pull off straight A's.

Well, almost nobody. Gibby, Wendy, and Carly all left her work ethics alone, but ever since they started dating in freshman year of college, Freddie had worried and fussed that she was not achieving her potential. He said he wanted to see her succeed, so he made study schedules, outlines of the material, and about a billion flash cards on various key terms. It was sweet in a nubbish way. (The reason she started dating him.) Which is why she attempted to use his strategies. Attempted. Sam Puckett and school just don't mix.

She pulled into parking garage of her and Freddie's apartment building. They had moved into together in sophomore year of college, while Gibby, who was Freddie roommate at the time, moved in with Carly. Sam thought they were the most dysfunctional roommates she had ever seen. But they made it work.

Sam walked into the lobby and was greeted by a friendly door man by the name of Jeremy.

"Back so soon, Miss Puckett?"

"Yep. Carls couldn't stay awake. Dropped her off at her place. Decided there was nothing else to do. Here I am."

"Pity. Well, Mr. Gibson hasn't left yet. They invited me up to watch Galaxy Wars, but I told 'em I couldn't leave my post."

Sam shook her head. "On their guy's night in, they chose to watch Galaxy Wars?"

Jeremy nodded. "All seven of them."

"Nubs." She headed to the elevator. " Goodnight, Jerry."

"You too, Miss Puckett."

Sam got into the elevator wondering why Bushwell had chosen Lewbert when there were so many other nice doormen. She checked her watch. 7:34. They were probably on the 3rd film. Maybe she could join them.

A small ding signaled her arrival on the 7th floor. She stepped off and walked down the corridor until she reached apartment 7F. She inserted the key and opened the door. The living room was dark and empty. They were probably watching in the entertainment room that Freddie hooked up when they first moved in. She dropped her keys on the counter and opened the fridge. As always, there was a package of ham on the top shelf. She ripped it open and stuffed a slice in her mouth, closing the fridge with her elbow. Sam made her way to the entertainment room where the faint sound of lasers floated through the air.

She was about to open the door when she was hit with stroke of inspiration. There was one thing she had always wanted to know: What did guys talk about when there were no girls around? This was the perfect chance with Freddie and Gibby chattering away on the other side of the door, unaware that the blonde had her ear pressed against the wood.

She caught a few lines from the movie.

". . . and we shall rule the galaxy. Mwa hahaha ha!"

"You'll never get away with this Crater. All the Dark Ones have a fatal weakness."

"No! There was no way you found out! It is impossible."

"Yes. Your weakness is—"

Mark Coolrunner's revelation was cut off by the melodic voice of Gibby C. Gibson.

"I've always wondered what type of guy were you, Freddie."

What the hell are you talking about, Gibby?

"What do you mean, Gibby?"

"Well, I've always felt that I was more of a leg and thigh man myself."

Sam's eyes widened in surprise. No way are they talking about this.

"Leg man?"

"Yeah, there's just something about legs that gets me going. Y'know what I'm talking about?"

Sam could hear the confusion in Freddie's voice as he answered, "Um, no. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Y'know, the legs are the most graceful part. They're slim and smooth. And the longer they are the better."

"Ah, I see."

Sam looked down at her legs. I wonder what Freddie thinks about mine.

Gibby continued, "The thighs are also great. Nice and supple. Plenty of meat, yet not too much."

"I understand your point. They are quite beautiful."

Sam shook her head. Wow. So when they have time themselves, guys turn into raging perverts.

"So you never answered my question. What kind of guy are you?"

It was silent for second before Freddie answered. "Well, I guess I'm more of a breast man."

Sam held in her laughter. Breast man?

"Breast man? Explain."

"I don't know. There's just something about them that attracts me like a magnet. They're fleshy and easy to hold. There's just . . . something about breasts that does it for me, y'know?"

"Yeah. Maybe a contributing factor might be their taste. 'Cuz you know breasts taste great."

Holy chiz sticks! I'm never gonna look at Gibby the same way ever again. Freddie, you better not reply to that.

Freddie stayed silent.

"What about Sam's?"

Sam nearly choked at Gibby's question. She and Freddie had been going out for about three and a half years, but they had never gotten that far in their relationship. They were actually planning to go for it on graduation night to celebrate four years of being together.

"What?"

"What about hers? Are you going to eat hers?"

She mouthed the words. Eat hers? Damn, Gibby's a sex maniac. I better warn Carly after this.

"I don't know. She might get mad at me."

Sam nodded her head in agreement. Hell yeah. We had a plan and we're sticking to it.

But apparently, Gibby wanted otherwise.

"C'mon, Freddie, just do it. They probably taste awesome."

Sam clenched her fist in anger. Gibby's trying to corrupt Frednub. He needs to back off before I run in there and turn his face inside-out.

"I don't know, Gibby. I don't want to betray her like that."

Gibby urged him forward. "Go for it, Freddie. I mean, look at them. They look delicious."

Sam's face paled. Where did Freddie get those pictures? I thought I hid them well enough. She thought back to the time those pictures were taken. She and Carly were stumbling home from a party with too much alcohol mixed in the punch. She decided to crash at Carly's for the night. It was going to be like one of their old slumber parties. But then, being drunk, Carly got the brilliant idea of posing as models. One thing led to another and next morning, they woke up on a floor covered with Polaroid photos of their nude escapades.

I knew keeping some of those was a bad idea. Sam had visions of using the pictures to bribe Freddie into doing things for her, but somehow the boy found them on his own. I taught him too well.

She was pulled from her thoughts when Gibby started to chant, "DO IT! DO IT! DO IT! DO IT! DO—"

"FINE! Just shut up."

No . . .

"But it's your fault if I'm dead by tomorrow."

No. This is not going to happen. Sam thought it was time to end this little conversation.

"Okay, it'll be my fault if you—"

Sam kicked the door with all her strength. It burst off its hinges and hit the floor with a deafening crash. She rushed into the room.

"SAM?"

"How dare you Freddie?"

"No, Sam, don't kill me! I'm sorry. Gibby kept telling me to, I got annoyed and I gave in. Please don't kill me!"

"It really hurts me that you would do such a thing as to betray my trust like that. I mean, we had a plan and everything."

"Wait, Sam, what are you—"

"I really thought you had more respect for me than—"

"Sam."

"—that. I thought you were a—"

"Sam."

"—gentleman, but in reality you're just—"

"Sam! Look at me!"

She looked down at him and Gibby sitting on the couch. The sounds of a robot rebellion played on in the background as she surveyed the area. No pictures. No nudity. No nothing.

And in Freddie's hands was . . . a half-eaten piece of fried chicken.

A sense of realization swept over her.

"—But in reality . . . you're just . . . eating . . . fried . . . chicken?"

Freddie smiled. "What did you think I was doing?"

Her face turned red. "I-I thought . . . B-but you said . . . I'm so confused."

Freddie's smiled turned into a grin. "Gibby asked me what part of the chicken I liked best. I always liked the breasts but you always ate them first. So he told me to eat these ones because you were out with Carly. I know you always make me save them for you, but he kept telling me to do it so I did."

"Oh."

An awkward silence filled the air.

Then Gibby started laughing. "You thought we were talking about girls?"

Sam turned even redder.

"Stop laughing. It's not funny."

"You make fun of us for being nubs for years and yet you think we talk about 'getting some'?"

She scowled. "Shut up!"

"I can't believe you thought—"

"Shut your mouth before I shut it for you!"

Gibby locked his lips and smashed the key into bits.

"Thank you."

Freddie patted the couch. "Watch the rest of the movies with us?"

Sam smiled softly. She sat down and leaned her head on his shoulder. The three watched quietly as the space pirate swung in from nowhere to stab the emperor in the heart.

She looked up at her boyfriend's face. She pecked him on the cheek.

"Sorry for this whole misunderstanding."

Freddie kissed the top of her head. "Don't worry about it."

She still felt a little bad about making accusations. "I'll make it up to you."

"You don't need to."

"Yeah, I do. Look, next time you feel like eating chicken, I'll give you the whole Puckett."

He raised his eyebrows. "Don't you mean bucket?"

Sam smiled flirtatiously.

"I know what I said."


Does it seem like a Valentine's Day fic? Sorta? Eh, whatever. I hope you liked it anyways.

I would LOVE a review.