Dusk settled in on The Hill early, winter's fast approach becoming apparent to all the Shire as the sky lit up with bright, hot colours, treating all to a brilliant sight. Frolicking Hobbit-children, trying to get as much playtime as they could from the last waning rays of daylight were called in for supper by their mothers. In the fields, strong young Hobbit-men, working later than their elders, harvesting their last for the day prepared to head inside and settle down to their tables, and then to a warm chair by a warm fire for a warm snooze. The land grew grey and dreamlike as twilight settled on Hobbiton.

A round face, dirty blond curls, and hazel eyes stared back at Samwise Gamgee as he finished buffing a plate to a mirror shine with a blue dishtowel. He smiled, satisfied with his job well done, and set the clean and dry plates in the cabinet, draping the towel over the side of the sink. He clapped his hands clean at a job well done and left the kitchen, walking down the hall to the living room of his master, the young Mr. Baggins.

Frodo sat in a comfortable old wooden chair, staring at the fireplace, the dancing flames reflected in his eyes. He had a sated smile on his face. Sam had treated him to an excellent dinner that evening, though it was a bit early of one. The Gamgee boy had fixed all of Frodo's favourite foods, including several mushroom-based dishes. Frodo couldn't help but feel a bit spoiled, though he didn't mind much. He knew Sam did such grandiose things because he was in love with the quiet brunet.

No, he didn't mind one bit.

"I finished the dishes finally, Mr. Frodo," Sam announced as he shuffled in, grinning at the pale Hobbit smiling gently up at him.

"You didn't have to, Sam. You already do enough around here as it is," Frodo said with a light laugh.

"I know, but I wanted to. Less work for you to do. Besides, my hands could use a good soak. No use you getting your nice fingers all pruny," the younger Hobbit reasoned, pulling up a chair next to Frodo and sitting down, taking one of the aforementioned hands and smiling at its owner.

Frodo looked down at the strong brown hand holding his own, pale, and soft, then up to its owner, a light blush overtaking his cheeks. He chuckled lightly and nuzzled Sam's cheek. "I'm quite sure my hands could do with some tasks. Otherwise I fear they may forget their duties! With yours fretting and doing everything for them, it seems as if that may happen!"

"Nonsense, Mr. Frodo," Sam corrected, laying a light kiss upon Frodo's palm, "They'll just find new uses, more appropriate for things of their..." he thought for a moment for the appropriate word, "splendor." He nodded, happy with his statement.

A small giggle shook Frodo as he left a soft kiss on Sam's jaw, his other hand sliding over to cover the blond's, holding the hand between his own and stroking it lovingly. "Somehow I doubt my hands are any more important than yours, my dear Sam."

"To you, they themselves might not seem that important, but to me, they, and their owner, are most important thing in the world," Sam nearly whispered the words, hazel eyes staring into Frodo's ice blue, still flickering with firelight. It was almost as if the brunet's pupils were ablaze themselves. Leaning in, the blond Hobbit placed a soft, chaste, lingering kiss upon his master's warm lips, a blush spreading over his cheeks and nose.

Frodo's arms moved around Sam's shoulders until he held him close, smiling into the cute, round face he treasured. "You're too kind, Sam."

Sam grinned a little, his hands finding their way around his lover's waist, "No, Frodo. I'm just kind enough." Frodo's title dropped away for the time being, for one of the things that pleased the blond so much was that Frodo held no class to their love, so neither would Sam.

Nuzzling the brunet's head to the side just a bit, Sam laid soft kisses on Frodo's neck, as he felt fingers sift through his own hair, and took in the pretty sounds of his love's soft sighs.

Moonbeams gently glistened through the window, casting a silver halo upon the hair of both Hobbits, as the stars outside twinkled in the chilly night air.

"You know, Sam," Frodo began softly, small sighs and moans escaping his lips every so often as Sam made sure every inch of his neck and ears knew how much the blond loved them, "I had planned to just read a book and go to bed early tonight..."

Sam stopped and pulled away a bit, looking Frodo in the face, though quickly turning his head down and away, his expression apologetic, "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo, I didn't mean to impose-"

"Ah, but you didn't let me finish, my dear Sam," Frodo interrupted him with a grin. "As I was saying, I had planned to do that... But I think I like your plans better. Makes for a more lively evening."

Sam smiled in relief, his curls tickling the back of his neck as Frodo's fingers played with them. "Don't do that to me, you had me worried I'd miffed you for a moment!" he scolded, hardly in earnest. In fact, he had already laid a few more kisses on his lover's neck before he'd finished his sentence.

Frodo felt his head loll back almost on his own as he felt blond curls brushing his chin softly.

Brown fingers slid up smooth curves to work at the young master's buttons, sparking mild amounts of giddiness in the brunet. Sam softly kissed his beloved's ear as he unbuttoned Frodo's shirt, finishing the task in record time. Dimly somewhere in the tiny part of his brain that wasn't currently committed to every nuance of his lover, he noted that he was getting better with that. There was a time when he fumbled with the small gold ovals so badly that Frodo had to do the task for him.

THWAP!

Sam tumbled to the floor in shock, as he found himself struck in the head by an unidentified flying object. Scrambling about for a moment, he found the offending thing: a rubber ball.

Moments later he found the offender standing at the window, which Frodo had opened while Sam was still cooking dinner, as the hole was getting stuffy. Said offender peered in the window sheepishly, blushing upon seeing Frodo's half-shirtless state.

Reddish blond curls framed a child-like face, green eyes wide in horror as he beheld the intensely angry face of Samwise Gamgee.

"PEREGRIN TOOK, I'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD!" Sam yelled as he scrambled to his feet and over to the window, seeing Pippin run away, his other half, Merry, quickly joining him in their retreat.

A strong lob later, and Pippin soon found himself face-first in the grass, a rubber ball bouncing to the ground nearby.

Sam grinned, satisfied, and closed the window. "Blasted troublemakers, never giving us a moment's rest," he mumbled, settling back down with Frodo, a proud smirk written on his face.

Frodo just laughed, "You have quite an arm on you, Samwise Gamgee."

"I've got two, I'll have you know, Mr. Frodo Baggins, and they're handier for more things than knocking your cousins over," came the reply, as Sam wrapped his arms tightly around his lover and hoisted him up in his arms, standing up and grinning.

"Why, Mr. Gamgee! Do I detect a lascivious tone in you?" Frodo giggled.

"Not quite yet, Mr. Baggins, but you will soon, I reckon." Sam grinned, hefted Frodo over his shoulder, and carried him off to their bedroom, grinning so wide he feared his face might split.

---

"Get up, you wimp," Merry moaned, hoisting his cousin up from the face-down position he'd assumed and seemed intent on keeping.

"I'll have you know, that really hurt!" whined Pippin, rubbing his head once he'd righted himself. He dusted his clothing off and crossed his arms with a huff.

"Please! You could be hit with a feather and still cry out as if you'd been stabbed!"

Pippin just huffed again.

"Oi, look," Merry nodded towards the closed window of Bag End. "They've gone. I suppose they came to their senses and took it to their room. Dirty little buggers."

"Dirty?" Pip asked, with a bit of a perk. "I don't think it's dirty."

"What they're probably doing now? No matter who does that, it's quite messy. You'll learn that someday, my dear Peregrin," Merry replied with a wink.

"Aside from that, my dear Meriadoc, I still think it's sweet, those two. They're perfect for each other, huh?" Pippin started down the road away from Bag End, towards the nearest inn.

Merry followed, catching quickly up to his younger cousin. "Very true, Pip. Very true. It is. It's sweet..."

"Um, I just said that, Merry."

"I know that, I was reiterating the point to give it further importance."

"Well it sounded like you just didn't know what to say."

"Well it's sounding like you want your ears boxed, Peregrin Took, lest you mind your mouth!"

"All I'm saying is... you're quite unoriginal."

"Unoriginal?!"

This was Pippin's cue to take off at a run, his cousin close on his heels.

"I'll show you unoriginal! You get back here! Oi! OI!"