Ride or Die | Sam Fender AU

060

"Little lamb," Sam called gently, stroking your hair as your head rested against his chest. "It's time to get up. Ceemon."

"Don't wanna," you whined, refusing to open your eyes and nestling further into his bare chest.

"Yer have to, Principessa," he told you, threading his fingers in your hair and massaging your scalp lightly. It was like he was trying to make it impossible for you to get out of bed, his efforts only making you sleepier than you already were. And just as you could feel yourself drifting off, he spoke, "We've got an appointment."

Your eyes shot open and you tore your head from Sam's chest, eyes wide as you stared at him. "That's today?" you asked in disbelief. The days had been a blur since you arrived home, your mind encumbered with thoughts of your dad and your seemingly irreparable relationship. Your attempts to contact him were unsuccessful but at least he hadn't blocked you. It gave you a flicker of hope that he would speak to you at some point in the future, no matter how small that hope was.

Sam tried to take your mind off the situation as much as he could, doting on you like an adoring husband. Your first day of being home was spent curled up in each other, catching up on lost time. It was filled with slow, passionate sex, neither of you wanting to let the other go. And embarrassed as you were to admit it, there were definitely a few tears shed on your part as your emotions caught up on you and your mind processed everything the last few months had thrown at you.

"Aye, lamb, today," he chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss against your lips, his hand finding the subtle swell of your bump. "We're gonna see our bairn."

"Why are we still in bed?" you demanded, all but leaping out from the covers. Sam only chuckled, watching you from the comfort of the bed, one hand beneath his head with the sheets sprawled across his half-naked form.

"We've got time," he assured you, watching you intently. You felt something hard on your finger and frowned, not remembering putting on any rings before you went to sleep last night.

"What's...?" Your words died in your throat as you lifted your left hand and noticed the sparkling diamond and matching platinum band that adorned it. It was gorgeous. The oval-cut diamond was placed in the centre of the engagement ring, surrounded by smaller diamonds on either side. The ring that fit your finger so perfectly, you would have sworn magic was used to craft it, matching the wedding band on your finger perfectly.

"I couldn't let my wife not have an engagement ring like," he smirked. "I know we skipped a big chunk, so I had it made. Do you like it?"

"It's gorgeous, Sam," you grinned, tears gathering in your eyes as you admired it. You crawled towards him on the bed and lay a slow kiss against his lips, your tongue sliding into his mouth. He let out a low moan as his hands found your hips and his fingertips dug into your flesh. "Thank you."

"It's the least I can do," he smiled genuinely, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and admiring your face. "Listen, I know we're married, like we've tied the knot an' all but this job comes with certain... expectations."

"How do you mean?" you frowned.

"There are traditions for when the head of the family gets married," he explained, cupping your cheek. "There's a lot of grandeur."

"And that means..." you trailed, urging him to elaborate.

"Wor wedding didn't meet the usual expectations, obviously because the circumstances were a little unorthodox," he continued but you could feel your patience wearing thin as your heart pounded in your chest.

"Sam, please cut to the chase," you pleaded.

"We need to get married again," he told you with a sigh, only adding to your confusion.