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“Y’know, Sam,” Frodo said, ale sloshing over the sides of the cup as he gestured at the Sam in question. “You are a marvelous hobbit. You’re kind, and dependable, and attractive too, I must say.”
“Thankee, sir,” Sam said, also inebriated. “But begging your pardon, I ain’t attractive.”
Frodo seemed oddly offended at this statement.
“Whatever do you mean, ‘ain’t attractive?” He took a quick swig from his mug. “I mean, you got those big strong man arms that you just want to be taken away in, y’know? And that hair of yours that’s always curled real nice, and your green eyes. Real nifty. Really, I think any hobbit in here would be happy to take you right now.”
Sam stuttered, his already flushed face turning a deeper read. “Nay, it’s you who’s the pretty one! Like one o’ them elves. You’re all pale, and it’s a wee bit unnatural to be honest, but oh, you shine like a diamond. And you’re going around talking ‘bout my eyes, when it’s yours that e’eryone oughta be talking ‘bout. They’re real big,” He curves his hands into a particularly large “o” formation and places them over his eyes. “And they’re blue. So, so blue. I’on even know how they got like that. S’like that one water fella, y’know, the elvish one you were telling me ‘bout on Tuesday came down to Middle Earth and saw ye and said, ‘That’s a special one right there, yessiree. Let’s let e’eryone know.’ Then he pointed at your eyes and said, ‘Make ‘em blue like the oceans.’ And by golly, he did sir.”
“Oh, Sam,” Frodo said in a jokingly scandalous tone. “You flatter me so!”
“It’s all truth, sir! E’ery last word o’ it.”
Frodo leaned forward onto the bar counter, nearly falling over whilst doing so. “Why, the way you talk about me, you’d think it was I that everyone wants to take to their bedrooms.”
Sam leaned with him, until they were so close that they can smell the alcohol on each other’s breaths. “Well o’course they do. You’re a fine specimen of a hobbit, sir. And yer so good to me.” A tear comes to his eye. “You talk to me, and you invite me in for tea and you give us gifts, and oh, you taught me how to read, and I just…”
His tears suddenly turned into full on sobs, prompting Frodo to grab him and pull him to his chest, albeit rather clumsily.
“I’on know where I’d be without you, sir. And anyone who can’t see that is a ninnyhammer.”
Frodo held him a bit tighter. “Oh, Sam. Oh, Sam, oh, Sam, oh, Sam, oh, Sam.”
They sat there together, awkwardly tangled between the barstools, constantly one inch away from falling as they rocked.
It was the best place that Frodo had ever been.
It was then that he got an idea.
A stupid, but incredible (at the time) idea.
“Sam?”
He looked up, eyes still somewhat red. “Yessir?”
“You said everybody wants to take me to their beds, correct?”
“Yessir, I did. Because they do,” Sam replied.
“And I said that everybody wants to take you, to the extent that they would do it right here-” He pointed at the floor. “-if you wanted ‘em to.”
“I still don’t believe that, but yessir.”
“Well how absolutely shocking would it be if we took each other to bed?”
Sam stilled. “What?”
“I mean, we’re both eligible bachelors and the object of everybody’s desire, apparently” Frodo said. “So if we tup each other, then we’ll both be off the market! We’ll kill two birds with one stone! They’ll be infuriated!” Frodo stuck out his hand as he said this, spilling his drink all over the pub floor. “And you wanna know the best part of all that?”
Sam was still confused by the first statement. “Huh?”
Frodo giggled like a young hobbit lass talking about a fellow she met at the farmer’s market. “I’ve been wanting to tup you for months. It’s perfect.”
Sam paused. “Huh?”
Frodo paused as well. “Are you quite alright, Sam? We have consumed a lot of ale.”
“Well, sir, I was just taken aback.”
Frodo furrowed his eyebrows. “In a good way or a bad way?”
“The best way. You’ll never believe me, sir, but I’ve also wanted to tup you for months.”
Frodo did a spit take. It went rather poorly, seeing as his drink was leaching into the floor at that point and as such it was all saliva. “Really? Get outta town.”
“It’s true, I swear!” Sam laughed, partially in disbelief, partially from being drunk, and partially from pure joy.
“Then, good heavens, what are we waiting for, Sam?” Frodo cried. “Let’s go to Bag End!”
Sam slammed what remained of his drink onto the counter. “Happily, sir.”
(In the end, no tupping took place that night. There were plenty of other forms of canoodling that did, however, including but not limited to: kissing, cuddling, romantic embraces, and plenty of lovely words and compliments. There was also a good bit of general tomfoolery. However, by the time they got to what would be the more interesting portion of the evening, both parties were so exhausted that they decided to wait until the next morning and, instead, fell asleep in one another’s arms. It was really quite cute. The next morning was still rather awkward, especially considering the hangovers they were coping with, but they got it figured out.
And before you heathens ask me: yes, they did tup eventually.)