"Then I met Sarah in the bathroom!" Sam sung loudly, striding the length of the room. A massive smile hung giddily to my face as I watched him dance unforgivingly.

"Now we're up against the wall and she's calling me baby!" I joined in. I never knew that dancing could be so fun. In fact, I never thought it was fun whenever I did it before, but right then - as it was just me and Sam jamming out in his bedroom - it felt like the upmost perfect pastime.

Sam laughed, doing as the song said and pushing up against one of his walls. My heart jumped into my throat when he bit his lip, even though I knew that it wasn't in a sexual way.

Curse you and your cute habits, Sam!

"You know, I was going to call you baby, but it'll cause me literal pain to call you anything other than Sugar." Sam spoke over the music. Despite the use of that nickname, I still found myself smiling.

"This is the only time I'll let you call me whatever you want." I stated.

Without missing a beat, Sam brought his lips down to mine, his hands held firmly around my waist. I immediately returned the kiss, bringing my own hands up to run through his unbearably soft curls. The feeling of his hands holding my waist so tightly, it left a fire on my skin. He did things to me that no one else ever had.

When he finally pulled away, he placed a long kiss just below the joint of my jaw. I found my head tilting back. That was definitely my sweet spot.

"Come on." He whispered into my ear, which seemed a lot louder than the music, though I was sure that it wasn't.

It was after school on Monday, and I was spending time with Sam like I always did. He had the bright idea to use his speaker system to our advantage by blaring random songs and hoping that we both knew them. I had no idea what the song that was now playing was, but I couldn't find it in me to give a fuck.

He suddenly turned around, crouching slightly in front of me. At first I was disappointed at the newfound cold where his hands no longer lingered, but then I was just plain confused as I processed his new stance.

"Come on." Sam repeated, glancing back at me with a wide grin.

Furrowing my brow, I tentatively wrapped my arms around his neck and climbed onto his back. When I seemed secure enough, he grabbed me by my thighs and hoisted me up with him. I didn't know what the hell he was planing on doing, but I would have be lying if I said that I didn't almost melt when he gripped my thighs. I just hoped that he wasn't planning anything too stupid.

Leaving the music playing, Sam started to head out of the room. I held tightly for fear that I might fall. I trusted him and all, but I couldn't predict the future and accidents could still happen.

"What are you doing?" I asked into his ear, voicing the curious thoughts in my head.

I felt the vibrations of a simple hum in response. Accepting that he wasn't going to let me know what he was planning, I took the opportunity to bury my head into the crook of his neck. He smelled so fucking good.

I opened my eyes to see him carrying me down a spiral staircase. His house had two staircases, one massive one that you saw right as you entered the house, and then one that was just passed the living room. I noticed that he almost always took lesser known one, which was in the shape of a gentle spiral.

Once we were finally down at the bottom floor, I took in a proper breath. For all I knew, he could have ended up falling and crushing me as he attempted to traverse them.

Sam then took a right, entering his extravagant dinning room. There was a large table at the center, covered with an intricately patterned table runner. The small chandelier that hung just above it made it reminiscent of something that I had only ever seen in movies. That was one of my favorite rooms in the entire mansion. Sam's bedroom being my ultimate favorite.

But he didn't stop there, instead continuing into the kitchen. I had only ever been in there a few times when we got hungry, but we usually just raided the pantry instead of attempting to use any of the mass amounts of different cooking methods that were splayed about the room.

Walking up to one of the smooth and spotless marble counters, he set me on top of it. Then he turned to one of the cabinets.

"What are you doing?" I asked him again, hoping that he would provide me with an answer that time.

Sam's hazel eyes met mine. "I'm going to cook something nice for you."

I smiled, but politely shook my head. As much as I would kill for that, I wasn't going to make him do anything like that for me. "It's fine, you don't have to."

He pursed his lips, placing a hand on top of my shaking head in order to still it. "Oh, trust me, I know. I want to."

I bat his hand away. "Well, then at least let me help out."

"Can you cook?" Sam asked with a knowing look, causing for me to sigh.

"No... but I can try." I attempted.

"Just let me do something nice for you."

I threw my head back, giving in to those captivating eyes of his just as I always seemed to. It was impossible to say no when someone was as utterly beautiful as Sam.

"Fine." I huffed. "But I hope you know that I plan on sitting here to stare at you with an annoyed expression the entire time you cook."

He flashed me those pearly white teeth or his. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

So I did as I promised. Well, for the most part. When he was looking I would scowl, but I couldn't bring myself to do it when he looked away. Those moments were reserved for gawking.

I never really thought about it before, but he probably had to cook for himself a lot. I was honestly shocked that he didn't have a cook who made his food for him. His family was plenty rich enough for it. But I guessed that we all had our reasons.

I wondered if either of his parents ever made dinner. They were hardly ever even around for it, so it seemed like they most likely didn't.

Watching that boy work his way around the large room brought up a newfound respect for him. How could he hold so much faith in his parents even though they were never around to be real parents? Maybe I had it all wrong. Hell, I hoped that I did. I hoped that they were the most loving people, despite being absolute workaholics.

Would I ever meet them? Or would Sam ever meet mine? I couldn't imagine what it would be like once we were both able to finally come out. What would my father say? He was always preaching about what it meant to be manly, so would having a gay son be too far against everything he had ever said? Was I even gay? I just hoped that mom would talk sense into him. She was way too loving of a person to care about my sexuality. At least, I thought she was.

What about Sam's parents? Would they be against us? From what he had said about them, they seem to be very caring people. They better be accepting of him, because he deserved to be accepted more than anyone else I knew.

The scent of chicken filling my nose was what brought me out of the deep train of thought. It was that moment when I processed what Sam was even making. Chicken sizzled on the stove, and fries crackled loudly in the frier.

"Fried chicken and fries." I lit up from where I was still sat on the counter. I didn't know how he knew, but I had a massive soft spot for a whole lot of grease. What could I say, I was eternally fat and utterly proud.

"Of course." Sam laughed as he continued to work on the meal. "Only the greasiest for my king."

Okay, I may not have liked the nickname Sugar, but I could definitely get used to being called a king. Especially his king. It sounded so perfect coming out of his mouth. We were the kings of the world. Why would ever need a queen?

"You know me so well." I pointed out, kicking my feet loosely.

"I definitely don't need to know your whole life story to know who you are." He agreed.

We didn't know everything about each other, which still managed to baffle me. Whenever I sat down long enough to realize that we had only really cared about each other for a little longer than a week, it freaked me the hell out. It felt like we had been doing things like cooking meals for each other for a lifetime. It was bizarre how the world worked.

I spent the next few minutes just listening to his humming, and the sound of the food being made. It was oddly soothing. Just being in Sam's presence always lifted my mood.

When he finally began to finish up, I asked if I could help set the plates or the table, and he agreed to let me grab certain things. We didn't seat ourselves in the dinning room though, instead he took out a seat at one of barstools at the island. I sat beside him.

I was planning on being polite and to wait for him to take the first bite, but the smell was way too intoxicating. It tasted like pure heaven on my tongue. I swore that I saw the golden gates. Who knew that Samson Warner could cook.

"What do you think?" He asked me after I had already ate several bites of chicken, and a wholeass ton of fries.

I lit up, pausing to swallow the mouthful I had just stuffed into my mouth. "Holy fuck."

A weird look grew on his face as he smiled down at me. I could sense the slight worry that he felt. "The hell does that mean?"

"This." I said, pointing down at my plate. Then I grabbed both sides of his face, bringing him close enough to make sure that he could see just how serious I was. "This is the best fucking thing anyone has ever done for me."

Sam let out one of his beautiful laughs, taking the opportunity to go in for a kiss. As much as I loved the taste of his mouth, the taste of his food was the only thing on my mind in that moment. I pulled away.

"I'd love to have a make out session, but the food cannot wait." I said matter-of-factly, before going back to stuffing my face some more.

I could see him watching me as he dug into his own plate. There was fascination in his eyes, which left me curious. How was it that he could look at me as though I was actually interesting? Like, as narcissistic as I enjoyed being, I was simply not a very interesting person.

We both continued to fatten ourselves up until we couldn't anymore. As much as I didn't want to make him do anything for me, I would have killed to get him to cook every meal I ate. Sorry Mom, but there was something about what Sam made that you're missing out on.

"Do you think you can be home a little late today?" Sam asked me after a few seconds passed. We were both just trying to digest the feast.

I pulled out my phone and noted the time. "I'm sure my parents won't mind. What did you want to do?"

"Just wanted to maybe lay down and watch a movie or something." Sam suggested, making me feel all fuzzy inside. After everything that we had done, the idea of just laying together was always my favorite one.

There was something about feeling his arms wrapped protectively around me while I pretended to be paying attention to a movie - even though I was really just entranced by the feeling of his lungs inflating and then deflating - that made the rest of the world fall away. In those moments, it was just Sam and I. Nothing else.

If I had a say, that would have been the way we would have spent the rest of eternity. Along the occasional meal made by Sam.

"You know that I'm always down." I smiled at him as he stood up to put our plates into the sink. Once he did, he returned with an outstretched hand. I gladly grabbed onto it.

A thought suddenly occurred to me for brief moment.

Was that the calm before the storm?

•O•O•