'Did you come around here just to start a fight? Drop dead.'
Sam's difficulty with relationships stems all the way back to his adolescence. He hasn't had it easy growing up in the Northeast of England but he managed to escape his teens unscathed. Mo...
"Rory, are yer ready? We're gan be late!" Sam yelled from downstairs. We had our scan in an hour and he was fretting as usual. As the weeks passed, his anxiety seemed to double and I didn't know how to alleviate it.
"I'm coming," I huffed as I carefully made my way down the stairs, Sam meeting me at the bottom and steadying me. "Sam, I'm fine, I can walk down the stairs on my own."
"I just get worried, Scarl," he sighed.
"Well, don't," I teased, rising up to place a kiss against his lips. "I'm fine, the baby's fine. We're both fine."
"Ceemon, we'd better make a move, don't wanna be late," he told me.
"Babe, just chill," I laughed. "We've got ages, we don't need to rush."
"I know, I'm just nervous, s'all," he admitted, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "And excited I s'ppose."
"Mmm," I smiled softly, resting my hand against his cheek. "We're gan know if baby Fender's a boy or a girl in a few hours."
"It's a girl, I'm telling yer," he huffed.
I rolled my eyes. "He is a boy," I corrected him as I fiddled with the neckline of his t-shirt. "Mother's intuition an' all that jazz."
"You'll see," he shrugged noncomittally.
"Whatever yer say, Fender," I smirked, pausing when I felt a sudden pressure against my stomach. "Ooh."
"What?" he fretted, eyes widening to the size of saucepans as they raked over me trying to identify the issue. "What is it, Rory? Is it the baby?"
"Jesus, kidda," I muttered under my breath as I placed a hand over the spot where I could feel the light pressure, unable to stop the smile from pulling at my lips.
"What?" he asked fearfully.
"It's owt bad, Sam," I assured him. "Gimme your hand."
"What? Why?" he frowned. "Would yer just tell me what's gan on?"
"Just shut up and gimme your hand," I groaned, grasping his hand and resting it on my bump. "Can yer feel that?"
I watched as Sam's eyebrows knitted together in confusion but I could tell he had connected some of the dots by the way his eyes were watering. "Wha- what? Is that?"
"Mhmm," I grinned, holding my hand over his. "They're kicking."
"Shit," he breathed, furiously blinking away his tears. "Is this the first time?"
"Yeah," I told him. "Seems the little'n had to get his say in the conversation."
"Her say," he huffed, although the watery smile on his face dictated his faux disdain.
"I hope this bairn isn't as stubborn as you," I teased.
"That's rich coming from you!" he gaped.
"Oi, watch it, mister," I grumbled jokingly, slapping his shoulder lightly. "Ceemon, let's get gan."
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