by grievous angel
F/S, PG13
"Look at us." Sam gestured vaguely. "Me standin' under your window like some kind of lovesick fool." His eyes changed and Frodo's insides tilted just a little bit. "Appearances don't lie, then."
"You should be holding a gift for me," Frodo said. "A bunch of flowers, perhaps, like a true lover come a-wooing. What would you bring me? Roses?"
"Nothing so common," Sam said. "Not that roses aren't a beautiful thing, but every lover knows about roses, and for someone like you - someone rare and lovely as you - roses aren't enough." He glanced over his shoulder at his rose bushes, and Frodo knew that he was apologising to them for any possible slight.
"Roses are more than enough," he said, finally giving in to temptation and leaning down, his fingers touching Sam's cheek. "I only need one thing as a gift, and that's you. It's all I could ever need."
Sam lowered his head, smiling, and then stepped back, out of Frodo's reach, albeit reluctantly.
"I have to get on," he said, looking up once again. "Forgive me, love?"
"Oh, I'll forgive you anything to hear you use that word," Frodo said. "Anything."
"Love," said Sam again, the smile turning into a slow burn, making Frodo shiver and clench his hands into fists. "My own love."
"My Sam," Frodo replied. "Always my Sam."
*
"Up at last!" Bilbo greeted him heartily as Frodo appeared in the doorway of the study. "Honestly, you could sleep the best part of the day away - in fact I think you already have."
"Sorry," Frodo said automatically. "I was tired." He smiled, his body tingling with remembered pleasure, recalling exactly why it was he was tired after the previous night's activities.
He suddenly realised he had been quiet for what seemed a long time and quickly looked up, but Bilbo was deep in his books, and clearly hadn't noticed anything.
"I'm going for a walk," he said. "I'll take my book and a bite to eat, if that's all right?"