Carly paced downstairs in the living room. Behind her, Spencer worked on his latest and greatest (and stickiest) sculpture yet— Ode to Pancakes.

"If you keep it up you're going to burn a hole right into the floor, there kiddo!" Spencer commented, strategically drizzling his fake syrup concoction onto his creation.

"Add it to the ones you've already made," Carly snapped, her pace increasing.

"Ouch! Touche," the elder Shay conceded. He set down his cup of goop and walked over to his little sister, stopping her by the shoulders.

"Look Carls, Sam is going to be alright. The doctor said she's probably just anemic because of 'lady' problems," he soothed.

"I know," Carly groused, "but something else has been bugging Sam, I know it! She's been acting weird. Distant. I just, I just want to know what's up with her is all…."

"Sometimes Puckett's do funky things?" Spencer ventured, squeezing his sisters shoulders. "Just give Sam time. She'll tell you in her own time."

"Thanks Spenc," Carly sighed. "I'm just gonna go check on her."

"That's the fourth time this hour," he reminded her with a small smile.

"Whatever, go play with your food!" Carly chuckled, pulling away from Spencer.

Except her shirt resisted.

"Uh, Spenc?"

"Yes, Carls?"

"Did you wipe your hands off before you came over here?"

"No. No, I did not."

"You just glued yourself to my shirt, didn't you?"

"It appears so."

"Goddammit! Spencer!" Carly whined.

It wasn't the first time the two had ended up glued together. Hell, it wasn't even the first time this month (thus Carly's increasing exasperation). At least this time it involved clothing. The high-five incident from three years ago was still infamous amongst doctors and nurses alike in the Seattle area. An industrial glue company actually reached out to Spencer to try and buy his formula. It was bad.

"Close your eyes!" Carly commanded.

"Aye, aye, Captain!" Spencer complied.

Once his eyes were screwed up tight Carly wiggled free of her shirt and darted up the staircase.

"It's safe now!" she hollered down.

Spencer opened his eyes and appraised his situation. The poor shirt clung securely to his palms and fingers.

"Now what dissolves cotton…" he mused, tugging and pulling on the thin fabric as he made his way to the kitchen to find a spatula.

Although the doctor had assured the group that Sam was probably fine, he had still suggested she get some bed rest over the next few days. When he said he suspected a heavy period as the culprit Sam bite her cheek so hard she drew blood in an effort not to bust out laughing.

Sam was seated against the headboard, nestled in a fortress of pillows and blankets. Every time Carly came to check on her, the pile grew seemingly larger. Sam wasn't even sure where all of the bed accessories were coming from after a while. On the TV a crappy ninja movie, Ninjas of Love, was steaming from WebFlicks. She laughed when she heard a knock on the door.

"Come in!" Sam called, "Carls, you do know that this your be— w-where's your shirt?"

Carly closed the door behind, crawling onto the bed to join her girlfriend.

"Spencer has it," Carly huffed, pulling back the covers to cuddle up to the blonde.

Sam swallowed the lump forming in her throat. "But, why?" she winched when she heard her voice crack hard on the 'why'.

Carly stretched out, modeling herself to the contours of Sam's side and resting her head on Sam's shoulder. Sam slammed her legs together, preventing the brunette from snaking a leg up in between her own. If Carly noticed, she didn't say anything. Her palms were already sweaty when she wrapped her arm around Carly, resting her hand on the dip of Carly's hip.

"Ninjas of Love, again?" Carly snuggled closer, tossing one leg across Sam's thighs. Sam nearly groaned as the leg grazed her new appendage.

Oh, this should be fun.

'Shut up, Samuel!' Sam warned.

"It's a classic!" Sam argued, placing a small kiss on the top of Carly's head. One whiff of Carly's natural smell proved that to be a mistake. The scent prodded at Sam's lizard brain, which really only thought about two things— food and sex. Well, okay, three, and Carly. And Carly in any combination with the first two. Food sex. No! Sam shook her head, returning her focus to the movie.

"How are you feeling?" Carly asked, her breath burning in the crock of Sam's neck.

Yeah. How are you feeling, dear Samantha?

Sam felt her crotch twitch. 'If that was you Samuel, I swear to God…!'

Heavens no, I don't have that much influence. Probably.

"I'm fine, babe. I told you, you and the doc are worried 'bout nothing," Sam assured her girlfriend, giving her a comforting squeeze.

The heat from Carly's exposed torso seeped through Sam's thin sleeping top, screaming for skin to skin contact. Sam turned her attention back to the screen. An overly dramatic woman was wailing as two men dressed as ninja's fought for her honor. One of them back flipped away, spinning in midair on a barely concealed harness.

"This movie is so bad," Carly laughed, entertained none the less. She smiled to herself, happy to be getting snuggles that she had been sorely missing over the past few days. Some would say that she has a cuddle problem. They would be right.

Sam gave a nervous chuckle, unable to control herself as her cock continued to swell. The phrase 'grower' made so much more sense to the young Puckett now. Carly sighed contently, placing a light peck on the nap of Sam's neck. Sam couldn't help herself, she let out a low moan. The mound of blankets jump ever so slightly right above her hips.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Carly whispered. Her hand lazily drew circles on the blondes stomach, inching slowly upwards to cup one of Sam's pert breasts. Her thumb grazed the hardening nipple.

"A-ah, me too," Sam whimpered, grabbing at her girlfriends hand. She laced her calloused fingers into Carly's softer ones and pressed their hands into her sternum. Sternums are safe.

Carly pulled back, taking note of how sweaty and red Sam's face appear. Of course the stubborn blonde wouldn't admit it if she still felt ill, Carly mentally noted. She squeezed their interlaced fingers and nestled back down. As much as she would love a night of WebFlicks and chill, Cary was more than content to just watch a movie with her girlfriend.

The mountain of blankets was smothering. Sam felt sweat bead on her forehead and silently prayed that Carly wouldn't notice. The last thing Sam wanted was for her overly concerned girlfriend to strip her of her blanket concealing mechanism.

You most certainly do not want to think about dear Miss Shay's breasts pressed against you.

'Seriously, dude?' the rebel scowled mentally.

Or her lips, the ones you've imagined a dozen times sliding along your ne-

'What the hell, man!' Sam gritted her teeth, feeling another twinge course though her body. It was already so hard it hurt to think about.

Carly shifted, her thigh grazing the rock hard shaft. Sam bit her lip so hard she could taste blood when the brunette repeated the action.

"You lost socks in your boxers again," Carly commented, thinking nothing else of it.

How often do socks end up in your under drawers?! Samuel cried incredulously.

Sam gave a halting head nod, her heart racing so hard in her chest she was sure that Carly could hear it.

No, seriously. Who habitually loses clothing in their drawers?

Sam realized she had started holding her breath and reminded herself to breath. She took several shallow breathes, afraid any sort of movement might reveal her secret to the younger Shay.

"Carly!" Spencer shouted from downstairs. "I need your help!"

Carly sighed and rolled her eyes so hard they threatened to roll out of her head.

"Coming!" she called back. She leaned up and gave Sam a fat, wet kiss. "I'll be right back," she promised.

As soon as Carly was out the door (adorned in a new shirt) Sam bolted out of the bed and into the adjoining bathroom. The front of her dark green boxer shorts was already stained with a smidge of precum and it only took a few strokes for her come in her most earth-shattering orgasm yet. Sam dabbed at the front of her boxers with toilet paper, trying to dry up the stain.

"You can't hid this forever," Samuel commented from the mirror.

Sam glared at him, giving up on her attempt at cleaning herself up. "What the hell was that about back there!" she hissed, grabbing the edge of the counter.

"You have to tell her," Samuel iterated.

"I don't have to do anything," Sam growled, jabbing her finger against the glass. "And I don't appreciate you fucking with me and my relationship!"

"Don't poke me, I know where your hands have been!" Samuel huffed, pretending to swat her away. "I'm just trying to help you."

"Help? Help?" Sam scoffed. "All you've done is fuck up my life. Pregnant? You want me to get the love of life pregnant. And what if," Sam swallowed hard, "what if Carly isn't my soulmate. What then? I go around knocking up every woman that will let me?!"

Samuel's shoulder sank and his usual dismissive cantor evaporated. "I am sorry, Samantha. I truly am…"

Sam spat into the sink, "Save your sorry's. A fat lot of good they do me now. I will tell Carly. In my own time. Now leave me alone, I don't want to see your scummy face for while!"

Samuel flinched. The image in the mirror wavered and where once stood a man was just Sam's plain old reflection. The blonde slammed her fists onto the counter top and let loose a string of curses. With a deep breath, she returned to her blanket fort and waited for Carly to return. From the smell of smoke wafting up from the downstairs, it might be a while.