Chapter Text
The rain continued to assault the window, seemingly heavier now Frodo was not under it. He let out a shaky sigh, he still felt the remnants of a ghostly chill, but his new change of clothes made sure he could warm up quicker. Although, his damp hair certainly made his neck cold.
Sam soon joined Frodo, sitting next to him and handing him a generous cup of tea.
“I hope it’s sweet enough for you.” He said with a kind smile, watching Frodo as he took a sip. Sam always adored satisfying Frodo’s sweet tooth; it made him beyond delighted to see his face light up at the smallest presence of sugar. This time, he had added honey into his blend of Rooibos tea, a type that Frodo found particularly pleasant. Sam saw Frodo’s lips curve into a fond smile.
“This is perfect, Sam, thank you.” Frodo beamed, looking at Sam tenderly.
“You’re always welcome, sir. I even used Meadowfoam honey!” He replied. Frodo looked over to Sam with an expression of curiosity, silently imploring him to elaborate. Frodo was not as educated as Sam on tea blends but is always willing to learn a thing or two from him. Sam smiled, “A Meadowfoam is a small plant with a white flower, its blossoms are very vibrant and one of my favourite flowers to spot. The honey is supposed to nicely accentuate the cinnamon and vanilla flavours in that specific tea blend.”
Frodo listened attentively, with visible fascination. He took another sip of is tea and nodded his head with enthusiasm. “Yes, the vanilla is very prominent, and the cinnamon is definitely more noticeable. Oh, Sam, you do such wonderful things!” Sam blushed, feeling instantly shy at Frodo’s compliments. He turned away so Frodo wouldn’t notice but considering how observant he typically is, his attempt was likely fruitless.
“You must be excited to be able to do these things with a future partner who shares your love of tea blends.”
Sam paused, risking a glance at Frodo whose smile held an unidentified sadness to it all of a sudden. The statement was unexpected, especially for Sam who only ever thought of Frodo and never planned to leave him. Much less for someone else.
“I... I don’t know about that, sir. If you don’t mind me sayin’, I only ever think of doing these things for you.”
“For me?” Frodo questioned, looking genuinely taken aback. “This is not just because of the social hierarchy we have found ourselves under, is it?”
“No, sir. I care for you. Very much.” Sam asserted and smiled when he saw Frodo’s face be decorated with a light pink. Frodo put down his teacup and turned to the side so he could face Sam properly.
“But Sam... Surely, you want to marry?”
He thought for a moment. “May I be honest, Mr. Frodo?” Sam asked, remaining patient, even if he himself wasn’t entirely sure of the extent that his honesty would be. Frodo nodded, subconsciously leaning closer to indicate that he was listening. “When I agreed to live with you, within my head I already agreed I would never leave you. The exact same way I promised myself at the start of our journey. Believe me, sir, nobody will take the place you have in my life and if marrying takes me even the slightest bit away from you, then I happily do not want it.”
Frodo parted his lips to say something, presumably to argue, but ultimately had no words. He stared at Sam for a while until a playful smirk played on his lips. “What if you were to marry me?”
Sam paused. “Well, then I could not say no.”
Frodo was clearly not expecting that answer. His eyes widened and he backed away, feeling embarrassingly flustered. He had to break eye contact with Sam, afraid his gaze might stray to Sam’s incredibly captivating, smug smile. Sam laughed.
“Are you alright, Frodo?”
Frodo. Frodo.
When did Sam gain such confidence and since when did Frodo want to kiss that proud look off his face?
“Sam. You are either making fun of me or you are flirting with me, which one is it?” Frodo chuckled, trying to gain his breath back after it was stolen by his dear friend Samwise Gamgee. Speaking of, he stared fixedly at Frodo as he considered his approach. Frodo was delicate, more vulnerable than he once was, however he seemed remarkably happy right now. Sam wanted to show Frodo that he was loved, because no matter the damage inflicted onto his heart he always smiled at those sentiments. Sam knew so much, too much.
“I would never wish to ridicule you, sir.”
Frodo frowned at the last word, but then the sentence registered, and he felt his heart leap out of his mouth. “Am I to believe you are flirting then, Samwise?”
“Only if you want me to be.”
Frodo scoffed. “There are better people to flirt with than me.” He concluded, putting up a finger. When Sam gave him a puzzled look, he felt terribly stuck. He didn’t believe that Sam could feel the same deep things that Frodo felt for him. “I am not who I once was, Sam, you deserve better than me. Friendship or not, I should not be your end goal.”
Sam took Frodo’s raised hand in his own. He intertwined their fingers and brought them down to his lap. “Please do not say such things, I want you to be my end goal. Parting from you would mean leaving much of my life behind, I don’t believe I can make it without you.”
Frodo shuffled closer. “We are home now. Nothing threatens you anymore.”
“I can’t make it without you.” Sam repeated quieter. He couldn’t help the quiver in his voice. He wanted to be the strong one for Frodo, but his own weaknesses were dominating. “After everything, I don’t think I can live without you.”
Frodo wasn’t sure when he started crying, for the second time that night, but now he didn’t have the rain to protect him. Sam looked up at him and was immediately overflowed with concern, rushing to hold his face and wipe his tears.
“Sam... that’s so unfair.” Frodo tearfully tried to choke out an apology, but Sam shook his head and kindly shushed him.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Frodo, I know that was terribly selfish of me to say.”
Frodo rested his head on Sam’s chest, and Sam took it upon himself to wrap his arms around him. “It wasn’t, Sam. You’ve only ever been selfless. It’s just...I can’t...”
“You’re enough for me, Mr. Frodo.” Sam reassured. He knew Frodo held onto many crippling insecurities, and unimaginable amounts of pain. However, all he could do was rub his back and allow him a shoulder to cry on.
“But... you told me yourself! You would want to marry Rosie Cotton; I cannot allow you to abandon that for the sake of me.” Frodo cried, his voice slightly muffled due to being against Sam, but his hurt was expressed, nonetheless. Sam was reminded of earlier, when Frodo was out in the rain, looking hopeless and dwelling on invisible worries.
Sam didn’t reply. Instead, he bent down slightly, brushing Frodo's hair aside to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. In response, he heard a quiet sniffle, followed by Frodo's small arms wrapping tightly around him. Frodo squeezed him and let out a barely audible whine. Interpreting this as a plea for more comfort, Sam obliged and kissed him again.
This time, Frodo looked up at Sam. His eyes were shiny, but no hint of pain dwelled within them. Sam swore he could see the moon and stars painted across his iris. Frodo’s hands moved apprehensively up his back, around his arms, until he was able to reach his neck. His arms laid gently on his shoulders, with his fingers barely touching the back of his hair. The fireplace across from them lit up Frodo’s face, and Sam could see him frowning. Frodo was searching for something on Sam’s face, biting the inside of his lip in the process, but he didn't know what he was looking for. He peered once more into Sam’s eyes.
“Who do you want to marry, Sam?”
Frodo took a breath, and Sam leaned forward to kiss Frodo’s parted lips. He cupped Frodo’s face, so gently he could barely feel it, and Frodo relaxed into the embrace. Sam moved back to break the kiss, but Frodo followed his movements, almost desperate for the moment not to end. Sam allowed this, moving Frodo’s body closer to him until he was practically laying on him. Frodo took the chance to hold the back of Sam’s head firmly now, bringing them closer when possible. Their hearts were parallel, but they met through soft lips colliding in a delicate manner. A few more seconds passed until Frodo moved to look at Sam once more.
Sam looked at him with sincerity, his face adorned with pink. Frodo kept staring. Underneath him, Sam was fidgeting with his lip and looked more dazed than he’d ever seen him. Still, he yearned for an answer, despite almost knowing what it would be.
A tormented minute of no reply led Frodo to look at the window behind them. The moon shined promisingly outside, a clear night sky showing off its glow once more. He paused, looked down at Sam, and then back up again.
He wants to wish for something. He knows now. He takes a breath and wished-
“I want to marry you, Frodo.”