Sam (Stardew Valley) x reader | Sam tries to be a mature dad
Sam is used to being considered a bit less intelligent than others, or, at least, he felt like he was. So when it was time to be serious, he needed your constant encouragement to feel like he was doing things right.
It was rather cute through your dating life. First time he helped you with your crops, he always came up to you, asking you the most obvious things.
"Is this a carrot ?" while holding out the most orange and carrot-looking carrot.
"Am I scaring the bunny ?" as the fluffy creature cuddled in his laps.
It was terribly cute, actually. Made you lose much time doing any task, but you two bonded over him praising you for being so good at everything, and you helping him get more confident. You were so good to him, his mother always called you his guardian angel. She had always thought he'd stop skating once he became an adult, a real adult, but no, he grew into a man who knew what he liked, and felt very proud of showing off his skating tricks to his life partner, right before getting to clean the house.
The day he became a parent though, he looked at the tiny child, and one of the first things that came to his mind was;
"That's it."
"I'm a man. I have to be a man."
Maybe that very thought was what made him feel so pressured, the constant feeling that he wasn't a real man. That he had to be someone else completely from now on, for the sake of his daughter, and your constant exhaustion with being a parent plus being a farmer gave you less time to listen to him and his pathetic problems.
He had to be an adult, an adult who does things without constantly being helped.
One evening, you passed your front door with exhaustion in each of your muscles. Your daughter was three months old now, still a constantly sleeping baby. The house was rather clean, food simmering in a pot. You looked around for Sam, and found him in the living room. The tv was on, probably as background noise as usual, but he had halted in the middle of the room to watch it.
A band was being interviewed about some albums they were releasing. You didn't know them. Your eyes went from the screen to your husband, and you noticed him rubbing his calloused fingers together. He didn't notice you for a long moment, so you decided to come closer. You smelled like dirt and sweat, but he never cared. So, with your chin resting on his shoulder, your chest against his back, you brought your hand to his.
"You okay, Sam ?" you asked, passing your thumb on the tip of his fingers.
He didn't seem very surprised, having expected you, "Yeah, just thinking."
You noticed it immediately, how the tip of his fingers got way softer. When you met him, his rough fingers were a huge part of him. To you, it was important.
"Where's your guitar ?" you asked with a light frown on your face, realizing that you hadn't seen him play for a while.
He shrugged it off as if it was nothing, "On top of the closet, why ?"
Surprised, you looked up at him. What the hell was it doing there ? When did it move from his corner of the bedroom, where it used to rest between two of his improvised sessions ?
When was the last time you heard a random tune, any time of the day ?
You didn't have answers that evening. You didn't ask, actually, exhaustion was taking over you, and your mind wasn't as clear as it should be.
It was summer now. Your daughter was five months old. For the few months she had been born, she had never heard her father's tunes. In the fresh warmth of the evening, Sam was sitting on the porch. A blanket on the ground, your daughter was lying on it, rolling around under the watchful eyes of her father. You, a few meters away, were planting some last crops for the day.
The last few hours had been bright. You were glad, now, you could somehow feel happy after a long day of work, and not only frustrated. Sam was in a good mood too, his pants rolled up to his knees, taking any last bits of vitamin D the sun could offer today.
And when you were done, you joined him on the porch, downing two glasses of fresh lemonade he offered you. Immediately afterwards, you laid down the floor, your head in his lap. With a loud yawn, you closed your eyes, his hand immediately resting on your head.
... Well, you got two whole minutes of rest before your daughter started crying for attention. Sam gently moved your head, and picked her up, bouncing her in his arms.
"Dad's here, dad's here," he comforted, her small body on his chest, already too unhappy to accept his sole presence as enough of an apology for having given her tummy time one second too long.
And she was very unhappy. Sometimes, babies acted like they just wanted to cry, and that was so frustrating for any parent, no matter how many children they had had.
"Show her the guitar," you suggested, eyes closed. No answer, except for her cries. You opened your eyes after a second, checking on Sam.
His back was turned, still trying to rock his daughter. The sight usually made you smile, but you could see the tension in his shoulders.
"Many people would've loved a father who plays the guitar," you added, rolling on your side, an arm under your head to use as a pillow. "She will, too."
No answer. That was unusual. Sam was someone who loved talking. You sighed, lazily moving your body to stand, before approaching. Sam avoided your gaze, as you took your daughter from his arms.
"Where's my husband, I wonder," you spoke.
Sam's eyes blinked a few times, then finally turned to you. "What ?"
"I see my daughter's dad, but I don't see my husband," you answered, sitting back on the porch, letting your daughter crawl on your thighs. Sam grimaced, looking uncomfortable by your lack of care for her cries. "If she wants to cry, she can cry. Doesn't mean we have to panic our whole way through it," you addressed his discomfort, placing a hand on her back so she wouldn't fall.
"Why not play the guitar ?" you asked more directly now.
Sam hesitated, before finally meeting your gaze. "I don't want to play anymore."
You sighed. "Why not ?"
"Doesn't it feel dumb ?" he asked, opening his heart immediately. He was never good at locking it. "I'll never have my own band."
"So what ? You love playing it," you said.
The frown on your face took him aback. A hand on his neck, he felt even dumber now for bothering you with his emotions when you were just done with your own work.
"I love being a dad, too."
"The two can get along," you said, not deferring. "And skateboarding too. And what about the video games ?"
Silence.
"When she'll need to beat a very tough level in a videogame, what will she do ?" you asked, your voice softer.
Her cries got louder, so you finally picked her up, sighing discreetly. As you stood up to rock her better, Sam kept observing you. He wanted to take her in his arms, but you did it so much better. You did everything so much better.
"I loved when you would skate on the road down the farm," you mumbled, partially to yourself.
Finally, Sam let out a chuckle as he remembered exactly what you talked about. He would always pretend he wasn't thinking and ended up skating on the road that led to the farm, just to run into you.
"I had a massive crush on you, what could I do ?" he asked, amused.
"Right ?" you chuckled back. "That was so silly of you. And you played louder to impress me when I came to give your mother some commissions she asked for."
Sam looked away, blushing slightly despite his amusement. "Did I ? I don't remember that."
You shook your head at the sight of your husband, unable to look truly serious. Your gaze met his, and your eyes softened. "Well, I was... Already rather old, wasn't I ?"
Curious, he tilted his head. Old ? You weren't old ! Seeing his expression, you explained;
"At my age, do you think it was immature of me to fall for a man who played the guitar, skated to his crush and had dreams of being in a band ?"
"What ?" his eyes widened, thinking you were accusing him of criticizing you, "Not at all !"
"Then did I make the wrong choice, getting married to that man ?" you spoke in annoyance.
"N-no, of course not !" he said, having been talked through being confident one too many times.
"Or maybe I messed up thinking I could have a child with that guy ?" you added.
"Of course not ! I mean, you thought it through, didn't you !?" he asked back, worry on his face.
You looked at him with patience, but an obviously accusing look. It was getting to him, slowly, you could see it in his expression.
And finally, he sighed in defeat, his arms falling at his sides. He would have to confess, wouldn't he ?
"I think I should try and... Be more mature," he let out.
His words made your eyes widen slightly. You knew it would be something along those lines, but hadn't expected the notion of maturity to be part of it. You approached him now that your daughter had calmed down, giving her to him. Smiling lightly, he held her close, her now tired little eyes closing as she snuggled to her dad.
"So what ? You try to be mature, so you stop everything you love ?" you asked.
Sam looked up awkwardly, resting his chin on her head. He seemed calmer, now that he had her.
"I didn't stop everything I love ! See, I have the two people I love with me," he said back, careful to keep his voice low.
Annoyed yet teasing, you crossed your arms. "Did our daughter do something wrong ?"
Sam almost stepped back from the sudden, very impromptu, question. "What ? No !"
"Then why are you punishing her !?"
"Punishing !?" he repeated, still very confused.
"Yes," you retorted, not backing out. "How come everyone had the luck of meeting a cute and funny Sam and when she comes into the picture you decide to change into serious and b—"
His eyes widened completely now, waiting for your last word. A warning ? You strengthened your arms, gathered all of your courage:
"—boring."
Placing a hand onto your daughter's ear, Sam let out the most shocked gasp a human could express. Never in his rather short life had he been called boring. He had definitely been called many things, but boring wasn't one of them.
You kept nodding, as if you had no regrets about what you just said, while Sam was now rethinking every decision he had made until now.
"Do you not like it !?" he said with his still outraged tone.
"I hate it !" you mumbled with the same frown since earlier.
Sam looked away, then back at you. Then, he looked at his daughter, and back at you again.
"Then why am I doing any of this !?" he blabbered in complete shock.
"I have no idea !" you said with a dramatic shrug.
His threw his head back, thinking deeply.
"Am I not a good dad ?" he asked, a bit calmer now that he took a few seconds.
With a little apologizing grimace, you shook your head hesitantly. "Huh... You're an amazing dad. You'll always be... Definitely a boring dad, though."
He took a deep breath, that seemed to be much needed, seeing as it filled his lungs completely. "... I'm turning into my dad."
You pursed your lips, staying silent. That was the one thing you didn't dare to say. But after a second, his eyes went back to you, and he could read the answer on your face.
"I'm getting my guitar," he said suddenly, turning around to get back inside.
Well, he was outraged, but definitely felt lighter.
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