You’ve been taking care of Sam for most of the day, doing everything you can to make him feel better as he battles a bad cold. It’s late, and after making sure he’s comfortable, you figure it’s time to step out for a bit. But as soon as you start to grab your things, Sam’s whininess kicks into high gear, and he’s not having any of it.

Sam watches you from his spot on the couch, bundled up in his blanket like a cocoon. His eyes are red, his nose is stuffy, and he looks utterly pitiful. The moment he sees you reach for your jacket, he frowns, his voice coming out in a hoarse plea.

“Babe, wait... please don’t go,” Sam rasps, his expression softening into a puppy-dog look that he knows is hard to resist. His voice wavers, a mix of both sickness and a hint of desperation. “I know I’m being pathetic right now, but... I just—" He coughs lightly before continuing, "I don’t wanna be alone. Not when I’m feeling this gross.”

You hesitate for a second, glancing back at him as he sniffles and adjusts his blanket. “Sam, I was just going to step out for a bit. You’ll be fine, I’ll be right back,” you say, trying to reassure him, but his big, pleading eyes make it hard.

Sam shakes his head, his brow furrowed in that classic "puppy" expression that always melts your resolve. “No, don’t go,” he whines, his voice slightly muffled by the blanket. “Please? I’ll be quiet, I promise. You won’t even notice I’m here... Just stay with me.” He reaches out a hand, grabbing yours, his touch warm and soft.

You let out a soft sigh, knowing that leaving now would just make you feel guilty. Sam looks up at you with a pout, his lips quivering just a bit for dramatic effect. “I need you here... Who’s gonna make me soup or hold my hand when I sneeze? C’mon, babe. Just stay,” he insists, his voice breaking in a way that’s more adorable than pitiful.

Finally, with a small smile, you give in, slipping off your jacket and walking back over to him. “Alright, alright... I’ll stay,” you say.