Kurt rolled over in bed, searching for a position that would make his head stop aching.  It had been a long week, and now just as the weekend had arrived, he felt awful.  Last weekend it had seemed like all they had to do was get through Blaines surgery, but of course, life went on.  The procedure going well had been a huge relief, but they hadn't really had a chance to celebrate.  Kurt had hoped to spend last Sunday cuddling and spoiling his boyfriend now that Blaine didn't have to be worried about the surgery anymore, but his plans didnt turn out as expected.  Instead, after a lovely bagel and lox breakfast with Blaines parents, Sam and Blaine had spent most of the day napping, sleep deprived from Sams nightmares keeping them up the night before.  That night, after Blaines parents left, Kurt thought he might finally be able to sneak into bed with Blaine, but by that point, Blaine and Sam were wide awake.  Really awake.  Sam decided they should have a Batman movie marathon - there were apparently an endless number of Batman movies - and Blaine, being the supportive (and awake) friend that he was, happily watched along with Sam.  Kurt just curled up next to Blaine on the couch and dozed.

While Blaine had spent the intervening week recuperating, Kurt had been busy preparing for the final exam in his playwriting course.  It involved a performance as well as a written test, requiring Kurt to spend hours with Cora, a grumpy kid named Jason, and their student director, all in preparation for the performance of their original skit on Friday – which was, thankfully, now over.  Add to that trying to catch up with work at Vogue.com, and there had been far too little time to see Blaine.  Kurt had really been looking forward to spending time with him today, but at this rate, he didnt even want to get out of bed.  He found his phone next to him on the nightstand.  He wasn't sure what to say, but his brain felt too foggy to come up with something clever, so he went with straightforward.

From Kurt:  Im really sorry, but I dont think I can come over now.  Im sick.

Blaine didnt respond right away, but there wasnt much Kurt could do to fix the situation at this point.  He peeled off the sweaty t-shirt he had been sleeping in, and put on a soft navy one he had nabbed from Blaine the last time he was over there.  After making sure his phone was on silent, he crawled back under the covers.  Maybe if he spent the day in bed, hed feel better by tomorrow.  He closed his eyes, letting himself drift off to sleep.

The next thing Kurt knew, there was a weight on his bed, and a cool hand on his forehead.  He blinked his eyes open to find Blaine sitting there, a concerned look on his face.

“Hey there,” Blaine said softly.  “How are you feeling?”

Kurt let his eyes close again and just enjoyed the touch of Blaine's hand on his skin.  “Sick.”

“I got that.”  Blaine chuckled.  “Want to give me a little more detail?  I'm guessing feverish, headache…”

“Definitely headache.  I don't think I have a fever.”  Kurt whined as Blaine took his hand away.

“Just a minute, honey.  I'm pretty sure you have a fever, but let's check.  Open your mouth for me.”

“Where did you get a thermometer?” Kurt asked, his words garbled as Blaine slid it under his tongue.

“Don't talk, silly.  Everyone has a thermometer.  Don't you?”

Kurt shrugged.  He didn't think so, actually.

It beeped and Blaine took it out of his mouth.  “One hundred and one point five.  See, you have a fever.”  Blaine turned and produced some ibuprofen and a bottle of water.  “Take this.”

Kurt obediently swallowed the pill and drank most of the water bottle.  Blaine took it from him and twisted to set it on his nightstand.  “I'll leave this here in case you get thirsty.” 

Kurt laid his hand on Blaine's thigh, rubbing his thumb along the nubbly seersucker fabric of his blue and white checked shorts.  “How did you even get here?”  Kurt mumbled.  “And why do you look so cute when my head feels so bad?”  Kurt ran his hand up to Blaine's back, clad in a light pink oxford button down of soft cotton.  Blaine's tan skin looked lovely against the pink shirt.

“Mmm, I aim to please,” Blaine said, slipping down to lie next to Kurt.  “I texted you back, and I called you, but you didn't respond.  So Sam and I figured we'd come check up on you.”  Blaine stroked Kurt's hair away from his face, and Kurt leaned into it.  It felt so good just to lie there, not thinking about anything except the feel of Blaine's touch.

His sleepy brain finally registered what Blaine had said.  “Wait, Sam's here?”

“Not anymore.  He just helped me get over here, carried my bags and such, you know how it goes.”  Kurt nodded, smiling.  “Sam's actually really germ phobic.  He's not at all friendly when I have a cold.”  Blaine was speaking very softly, his voice soothing even as he joked about Sam.

“I have a hard time picturing Sam not being friendly to you.”

“Okay, maybe that's overstating it.”  Blaine leaned up on an elbow.  “So, it is sort of a migraine headache?”

“Um hm.”

“Let me?”  Blaine lay on his back and pulled Kurt's head onto his chest, so he could get both hands into Kurt's hair.  “This would work better if I could sit up more, but I don't think my leg will let me.”

“No, this is working just fine…  Ohh,” Kurt moaned as Blaine massaged his temples. Blaine was focusing on the area near Kurt's eyes, and the pressure felt wonderful.  After a while he moved his fingers back, pressing gently through Kurt's hair, pausing briefly each time Kurt tensed.  He reached the back of Kurt's neck, and Kurt thought he might just dissolve, he felt so relaxed.  His head still hurt, but it just didn't seem to matter as much.  He had one arm flopped across Blaine's waist and the other tucked around his shoulder, and he wanted to just melt right into his boyfriend and stay there forever.

“Mmmm, right there,” Kurt said encouragingly, as Blaine rubbed a particularly tense spot.  “You've always been so good at that.”  He opened his eyes briefly to look at Blaine.  “Remember?  After Mr. Schue's non-wedding?” 

“I do.”  Blaine smiled and leaned down to give Kurt a kiss on his forehead.  “Someone had too much champagne.”

After their oh so much fun and terribly confusing to Kurt wedding hookup, Kurt had gone downstairs to find that Santana, Quinn and Mike Chang were having some kind of champagne treasure hunt, which apparently involved getting points for every opened but unfinished bottle of champagne they could find, which they then had to drink.  Kurt joined in, casually swilling the cheap bubbly an effort to stop thinking about Blaine for just ten minutes, which proved to be impossible anyway.  By the time Blaine came downstairs he could see Kurt wanted a little space, and so Blaine wandered off with Sam and Tina, chatting up the band and generally looking good enough to eat.  After Santana caught him staring one too many times – which was understandable, really, when Kurt couldn't help but think about all the beautiful skin hiding under Blaine's finely tailored suit, which Kurt had just had the pleasure to reacquaint himself with – he gave up, and pulled Blaine into an inebriated but heartfelt embrace, swaying on the dance floor to whatever radio station the caterers were playing as they packed up the hall.

“I'm just glad your parents weren't home.”  Kurt had been too embarrassed to return to his own house under the influence, so they went back to Blaine's empty one, which he had figured would have the bonus feature of more alone time with Blaine.  Unfortunately Kurt had a whopper of a migraine by the time they arrived, and could only lie still and whimper while Blaine rubbed his head.  He didn't get these headaches very often, and they were usually pretty mild, but nothing made him feel better than Blaine's hands massaging his scalp.

“I'm just glad I was there to take you home,” Blaine said softly, winding his fingers into the soft hair on the back of Kurt's neck and pressing gentle circles there.

“Mmm,” Kurt voiced his approval.  “I'm just glad your parents gave you that Prius.  Who knows what would have happened that day if we had to catch a ride from Rachel?”  Although given how worked up he was even before the ceremony, Kurt doubted that the lack of a backseat would have been enough to keep him and Blaine apart.

“Indeed.”

“Do you still have the Prius?”

“My parents do.  But….” Blaine paused, and Kurt squeezed one eye open to look at him.

“What?  Did they revoke your driving privileges for not cleaning your room?”  Kurt teased.

Blaine just shrugged.  Finally Kurt got it.  “Can you not drive anymore?”

He shrugged again.  “The last time I was home was Christmas.  I was still in the chair, and I definitely couldn't use my leg enough to drive.  It's not like I need a car in the city, or anything.  It doesn't matter.”  But Blaine's face didn't match his words.  Kurt knew how much he liked to drive – Kurt did, too, even though, as Blaine said, living in the city didn't give him much opportunity.  But back in Lima, driving was freedom.

“It must have been hard, being so dependent on people.”  Kurt didn't want to imagine it.  He could barely stand being around most people; having to socialize just in order to get your daily needs met sounded like torture.

“It was.”  Blaine turned, and Kurt shifted off of his chest so he was lying on his side.  They faced each other, Blaine searching out Kurt's eyes.  “I really resented it.  Not being able to do anything by myself, having to plan out every single move so that someone could be there to help me.”

Kurt pushed a curl off Blaine's face and gazed into his eyes.  “But it's different now, right?”  Even though Blaine did seem to be somewhat dependent on Sam, that seemed to be mostly by choice.

“It is, for the most part.  Or it will be, once this new slice heals.”  Kurt glanced up at Blaine for permission, then peeked under the leg of Blaine's shorts to where a bandage covered the incision.  Blaine had replaced the larger hospital style bandage with a smaller, neater version a few days ago.

“They took the stiches out yesterday, right?”

“Yup.  Don't remind me.”  The appointment had been at the same time as Kurt's final exam performance, so Sam had the pleasure of holding Blaine's hand while he squirmed and whined – as reported by Sam to Kurt immediately afterwards.

“Can I see?”  Blaine gave Kurt a “don't know why you'd want to,” look and nodded.  “Sure.”

Kurt couldn't exactly say why he wanted to, even if Blaine had asked him outright.  But there was just something about facing it that made it less scary for him, even if Blaine thought he was nuts when Kurt asked to see it earlier in the week.  Kurt pushed up Blaine's shorts and slid a fingernail under the edge of the bandage, delicately peeling it back.  The incision was about four inches long, still red, but considerably less angry looking than it had been just a few days ago.  Blaine had shaved the area around the site so it didn't pull his hair out when he took the bandages on and off, and Kurt ghosted a finger carefully along next to the scar, checking Blaine's face to make sure he wasn't hurting him.  “It must be feeling better, or you'd be kneeing me in the stomach right now,” he said, patting the bandage back down around the edges.

“Yeah, it is, at least on the surface.  It still feels awfully sore underneath, though, and really stiff when I move.  The new PT guy says that's going to take more time to heal than the skin.”

Kurt was dying to ask if Blaine could feel any difference in the pain – if the surgery had in fact been successful in that respect.  But he didn't want to risk asking and having Blaine say no, especially now when it was probably too soon to tell. 

Kurt laid a hand along Blaine's cheek, and traced down to his jaw.  “I love you,” he breathed out.

Blaine smiled.  “I love you too.  Even if you're a terrible patient.”

“Hey, what do you mean?”

“I massage you into a puddle and then you insist on ruining the mood by talking about real stuff.”

 “I have a hard time relaxing,” Kurt said seriously.

Blaine huffed out a laugh, grinning.  “You think?”  He kissed Kurt on the nose and ran a hand through his hair.  “Want me to try again, or do you want to sleep?”

“Both?”

“Deal.”  Kurt resumed his position on Blaine's chest and let the feeling of Blaine's fingers rubbing against his scalp soothe him.  After a while Blaine's hands slowed, coming to rest with one on Kurt's head, the other sliding down to his waist.  “Blaine?”

“Yeah baby?”  Blaine sounded close to sleep himself.  Kurt loved him like this, all drowsy and sweet.

“No one's ever done this for me, you know.  Taken care of me, like you do.”

Blaine tightened his hold around Kurt, his hand flat against the small of Kurt's back, warm and strong.  It was a moment before he replied, and when he did, his voice was tight.  “I want to take care of you.  Always.”  Kurt opened his eyes and saw a tear sliding down Blaine's cheek.  “Even if I couldn't before.  I can take care of you now, I promise.”

“I know you can.” Kurt's heart clenched.  It was clear that the pain of what happened after the accident still haunted Blaine, in more ways than one.  Blaine's confidence in his own abilities had been damaged, his faith in himself lessened.  Kurt kissed Blaine gently on the lips and on his furrowed brow until he relaxed.  “I can feel your love, Blaine, in everything you do.”  He put his palm against Blaine's chest and looked into Blaine's eyes, wet with unshed tears.  “I know you love me.   I don't know why you do sometimes, but I know you do.  And that's all I need, as you've told me before.”  Kurt smiled as Blaine finally smiled back, wiping his eyes.  “And scalp massages.  I just need love and scalp massages.”

----------

Kurt woke up to a delicious smell wafting in to his bedroom.  He sat up gingerly, relieved to find that the ache in his head had subsided.  He went in to the kitchen to find the table set and Blaine stirring a pot on the stove.  He was leaning on one crutch, the other propped against the wall.  While Blaine's unsteady posture seemed vaguely hazardous to Kurt, given the proximity of the lit burner, he decided to table the issue in favor of a more pleasant activity.  He came up behind Blaine and slid his arms around his trim waist, spreading his fingers over his belly.  Today's belt had stripes, he observed.  He kind of missed the little whales.

“Feeling better, honey?”  Blaine asked, turning to face Kurt, who set his crutch aside and laced Blaine's arms over his shoulders.

“Much.”  He nuzzled into Blaine's neck.  “I'm not going to knock you over, am I?”

Blaine hummed and leaned against Kurt, who took a firmer grip on his waist.  “I think I'm okay.  Luckily my boyfriend is a dancer.  They're very strong, you know.”

Kurt preened a little.  He had never thought of himself as a dancer, but it was true, he supposed.  And “boyfriend” and “dancer” in the same sentence sounded quite nice as well.  “I've heard they're flexible, too.”  He nibbled just under Blaine's jaw, causing him to let out a breathy little moan.

Blaine tilted his head as Kurt kissed along his neck, and pressed his body closer.   Ever the gentleman, he was still trying to keep their focus on the task at hand.  “Kurt, I, um, I made you chicken soup.”    Although Kurt would have been more than willing to leave that for later, his stomach chose that moment to growl in a decidedly unsexy manner.

Kurt pulled back, laughing as Blaine took a moment to straighten up.  “So I guess you're saying we should have dinner?”

Blaine blinked, his eyes wide.  “Honestly, I have no idea what I'm saying right now, I'm not sure my brain is working at all.”  He looked at the stove and the table, waving a hand at it.  “But I think dinner was supposed to come next.” 

The soup did smell really good.  “Dinner now, kissing later?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

After a brief argument over who was going to serve the soup (“I can do it, Kurt.  Your table is barely two feet away from the stove, I'm not going to drop anything,”) they settled down to eat.  Kurt smiled when he saw that Blaine had laid out a plate of saltines – Kurt's go-to food whenever he was feeling queasy, which often happened when he had a bad headache.  Luckily that particular ailment hadn't made an appearance today, and he was able to enjoy the soup without any problem.

As they were finishing up, Blaine's phone pinged, and he took a minute to shoot off a text.  “Sorry.  Sam's looking for laundry detergent.  He claims we don't have any, but unless Rachel washed twenty loads of laundry while she was here, there's got to be some left.”  Blaine read Sam's response, and laughed, his face crinkling up.  “Sam apparently decided he was going to wash all of our sheets and towels, and wants to make sure he's prepared.  He's such a goof.”

The thought of Sam spending the day doing his and Blaine's laundry was such a domestic image.  It spoke of the comfort Sam and Blaine felt together, how familiar they were with each other.  Kurt pushed away the vague feeling of disquiet this brought him.  “Why would he do that?  Is the gym closed today or something?”

“I don't know.  I try not to question all of the things Sam does.  I think he's probably just trying to be a good roommate.”

Kurt took a breath, and chose honesty over snark.  “That's how he shows he cares about you.  By doing things for you.”

Blaine nodded.  “I guess that's what he's always done.  Isn't that how everyone does it?”  A little frisson of discomfort must have shown on Kurt's face, as Blaine gave him a considering look.  “Can I ask you something?” 

“Of course,” Kurt said, shifting in his chair. 

“It's about me and Sam,” Blaine began.  Kurt refused to think about what unfortunate declarations that statement could preface, choosing instead to examine where the edge of one of his cloth napkins was coming unraveled.  “The other day, when you were over the night before my surgery, Sam asked you if you were all right with how we were together, cuddling or whatever.   I know Sam felt weird, like he was doing something he wasn't supposed to do.  Because I'm your boyfriend, not because of anything else.”  Of course, Kurt thought, because Sam is perfect and doesn't care about the gay.   Blaine craned his head until Kurt had to return his gaze, and placed a single finger on Kurt's nervous hands.  “I know you said you didn't mind, but I'm not sure if you were talking about the boyfriend thing, you were mostly talking about why two guys should be able to be physical together.  But if there's any aspect about me and Sam that bothers you, I want you to tell me.”

Kurt considered this.  He really hadn't minded watching Sam cuddle Blaine as he dozed on the couch that night.  What he had told Sam at the time was true – he was glad that Blaine had someone to comfort him.  His momentary twinge of jealously just now had mostly been about something different, and any part of it that was about Blaine's current friendship with Sam needed to be quashed.  “I think I'm a little jealous that you two were together when I wasn't there, you know, last year and all.  That you got to know each other so well.  I feel sad that I missed that time with you, and Sam didn't.”  He took a breath.  This was important.  “But I don't mind at all that you two are so physically comfortable with each other.  It makes me happy, watching you guys together.”

“Happy?” Blaine asked, smirking.

“Not that kind of happy, get your mind out of the gutter,” Kurt chided.  “Happy because Sam cares about you, and that makes me glad.  Just like if Rachel was cuddling you.  It's not sexual, it's just caring.”

“Okay,” Blaine said, looking at Kurt closely.  “I just wanted to make sure.”  He didn't look satisfied.

Kurt figured it needed to be said, so he just went for it.  “I trust you.  I know you're not doing anything with Sam.  Am I the tiniest, teensiest bit jealous when he's cuddling you?  Fine, yes, but I know I shouldn't be, and I'm not proud of it.  You two don't need to change the way you are together, okay?”

“You're jealous?”  Blaine looked like he had just received a compliment.

“That's what you took from that?”  Kurt laughed.  “Of course I'm a little jealous.  You're my dreamboat boyfriend, and someone else is touching you.  The caveman in me wants to shove Sam away and assert my rights.”

“Oh?”  A blush was creeping up Blaine's face, and Kurt realized he was turned on. 

“Definitely.  I'd like to throw you over my shoulder and carry you off.”  Kurt stood up and pulled Blaine to him.  “I'd do it right now, but I don't want to break you,” he whispered low into his ear.  Blaine was breathing faster, his hands coming up to curl into Kurt's shirt. 

“Try me.”

Kurt slid his hands down to cup Blaine's ass.  “C'mere.”  Blaine hopped up and wrapped his legs around Kurt's waist, hissing under his breath.  Luckily the couch wasn't far away, and Kurt quickly lowered him back down.

“That might not have been the best idea,” Blaine said sheepishly, rubbing his leg and grimacing.  “Ow.”

“Shit, I'm sorry,” Kurt said, sitting down and leaning his head on Blaine's shoulder.  “I guess caveman me isn't very smart.”

Blaine smiled, blushing again.  “Maybe caveman Kurt can come visit again sometime when my leg's feeling better?”

“Absolutely.”  Kurt filed away the success of this particular moment for another time (or possibly something to think about in the privacy of his room after Blaine went home).  Caveman Kurt was definitely going to make a return visit at some point in the future.  In the meantime, a less strenuous activity needed to be found.  Kurt dug around for the remote, finding it hidden under a cushion, and tugged Blaine up against him.  “What do you say about some mindless television?”

Several hours later, after hate watching two endless episodes of American Idol (“I can't believe that show is still on,” Kurt had moaned when Blaine excitedly clicked on it), Kurt sat up and stretched.  It had gotten dark, and the only light in the apartment was the flickering of the television, and the streetlight shining in through his small kitchen window.

“What time do you have to go home?  Do you want me to walk you over, or call you a cab?”  Kurt figured it must be almost ten, and Sam was bound to be getting twitchy. 

“Actually, I don't have to go home tonight.”

“You don't?” 

“Nope.  You didn't leave me alone when I was sick.  Although, you don't seem very sick anymore…”

Kurt leaned back and threw his hand up against his forehead.  “Oh, dear,” he moaned.  “Suddenly I feel quite faint.  It's definitely not safe for you to leave.”

Blaine responded by leaning over and blowing a raspberry on Kurt's exposed stomach, causing him to squeal.

“How did you do that so fast?”

“It's a gift.”

Kurt beamed, and bounced a little on the couch.  “You can really stay over?  Sam's all right with it?”

Blaine nodded.  “Sam and I talked about it when you were asleep.  He wants to try staying by himself.  I'll keep my phone on, and he'll call if he needs me, or if he just wants to talk.”

“Is this his therapist's idea?”

“Not really.  But she did talk to his doctor and got him a prescription for sleeping pills, just for a little while so he can catch up on some sleep at least.  He took one last night and it really seemed to help.”

“He can't just keep taking them?”

Blaine bit his lip and paused.

“You don't have to tell me all the details, it's okay,” Kurt said softly.  This was Sam's business, and maybe he didn't want Blaine sharing it with Kurt.

“No, Sam said I should talk to you about it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.  I think he might like another perspective.  Or he thinks I need one.”

“About what?”

Blaine looked more uncomfortable, pulling his good leg up to his chest and wrapping his arms around it.  “Medication.”

Kurt froze.  The last time the topic had come up between them had been just before they called off the engagement.  Kurt had suggested that maybe taking medication would help Blaine with his depression and it had resulted in a huge fight, with Blaine denying that anything was wrong and refusing to take Kurt's calls for days.  “Do you not think Sam should take meds?” he asked carefully.

“No, no, exactly the opposite,” Blaine said, shaking his head.  “I think he should.”  Blaine held a hand out to Kurt, palm up, and Kurt took it.  His hand was shaking, and he didn't know if it was him or Blaine causing it.  “I finally started taking an anti-depressant after I came home from rehab,” Blaine said, his eyes locked on Kurt's.  “I'm sorry I didn't listen to you and do it sooner.”

Kurt nodded, his chest tight.  “It helped you?”

“It really did.”  Blaine took a deep breath.  “I don't know what I was afraid of.”

“Are you still…?”  Kurt had noticed Blaine taking pills sometimes, but he had assumed they were for pain.

“No.  After my leg started getting better, and we were making plans to finally come to New York, my therapist suggested I come off it.  It's been almost a year without it, and I'm fine.  But I really think it made a difference, and Sam really needs help…” Blaine trailed off, looking lost.

“Oh, Blaine,” Kurt breathed out, wrapping his arms around Blaine and holding him tight.  “I'm so proud of you.  I know how scared you were of taking anything.  But you did it, and you made yourself better.”

Blaine pressed himself up against Kurt, squeezing him tight.  “I'm sorry I was so awful about it.”

“You don't have to be sorry.  If you weren't feeling so bad, you wouldn't have needed the meds.”  Kurt rubbed his back, then pulled away to look at Blaine.  “Kind of a catch-22, isn't it?”

Blaine huffed out a laugh.  “I actually tried to tell Sam that if he wasn't so exhausted, he'd see that taking meds made sense.  But he didn't buy it.”

“What's his objection?”

“I'm not sure, he's just really hesitant.  I think he thinks it will change him, make him a different person.  But it's not even like he'd be taking the same stuff I did.”  Blaine sat up, and pulled out his phone.  “I did some research and there's a drug they're using for people with PTSD that specifically helps with nightmares and anxiety.”  He held out his screen for Kurt to see.  “It could be perfect for Sam.  I showed him, too.  But he just pulled the ‘I'm too dumb to understand that science stuff' card and walked away.”

Kurt wasn't surprised that Blaine had researched the issue.  He probably also knew all about the possible side effects, and whether it was covered by Sam's insurance.  This was part of why it had been so infuriating when Blaine wouldn't even consider taking meds after the accident – the Blaine he knew, healthy Blaine, would have looked at it logically.

“Sam's so lucky to have you, you know?”

Blaine shrugged.  “I feel like I'm just not getting through to him.”

“Come on, you've been doing everything you possibly can to help him.  And I bet he'll listen to you.  Sam trusts you.  He's just scared.  And he'll have a new therapist soon, too, right?”  Kurt remembered what Blaine had said a moment ago.  “Did he really say you should talk to me?”

Blaine's mouth curled in a not quite smile.  “He may have said something along the lines of ‘if you want to talk about this so much, why don't you call Kurt.'”

“Oh, I see,” Kurt said, laughing.  “Trouble in paradise?”  Maybe Sam wasn't so perfect after all.  Maybe he was imperfectly perfect, just like Kurt.

“No, we're good.”  Blaine smiled.  “It's not the first time we've argued about something, and I'm sure it won't be the last.”  He reached to put his phone back in his pocket, and then paused.  “Actually, is it okay if I call him and say good night?”

Damn, this boy was adorable.  And in just a few minutes, he was going to be in Kurt's bed, cuddled up to him, all warm and sweet and loving.  He could certainly spare Sam a phone call.  “Of course.”