(Written for the there_n_back LJ community's "Sam" challenge)

Sam and the Baker's Dozen

‘Aw, Rosie, tell me the trouble,’ he said as Rose turned her back to him. He folded her in his arms, burying his face in the crook between neck and shoulder, inhaling her fragrance, to counter the black clouds rolling in, a late spring storm on the way.

‘It’s just that...’ she hesitated. ‘It’s such an unlucky number! What if we have thirteen, and stop?’

‘We just won’t stop,’ Sam said, happy to have a ready solution. ‘We’ll have fourteen children, if need be, Rosie...’

‘O Sam, you spoil me so,’ she sighed, and turned to nestle in his arms.