prompt: samuel and "Come on, it's me. I'm good at this sort of stuff, remember?"
warnings: pregnant!reader
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"Come on, it's me. I'm good at this sort of stuff, remember?" Sam reasoned.
You shook your head, your hand hand the bottom of your belly. "Sam. Baby. I love you, but I don't think you're gonna get this crib together."
"Oh? And why's that?" he challenged.
"Well, you lost the directions—"
"—I can put together a crib without directions."
"—and you've attached the legs to the wrong side. I don't know how you think this baby is gonna sleep, but I can assure you it ain't gonna be hanging out of her bed."
He looked back at the crib, as if realizing the mistake he made. "You know, now that I think about it, we probably shouldn't have gotten a crib from IKEA."
