Title: Takin' Care  (1/?) S/P  
Series:  Coming of Age 
Author: Diamond ( juweldom@yahoo.com ) 
Rating: R (NC-17 later chapters)  
Characters: Sam, Pippin, Frodo, Merry 
Category:  Angst, first time, eventually PWP, hurt/comfort 
Warnings:  very slight het content
Disclaimer:  Oh I wish I could claim Sam, but all these characters 
are Tolkien's and I don't rightly know what he'd make of all this!  I 
do it all for love, not money.
Summary: Sam's birthday brings lonely wishes forward for himself 
and Pippin, both longing after something they can't have, they 
decide to explore 'safer' territory with each other . . .
Notes: I know there are probably already too many PWP with the 
hobbits (what?  NEVER! -_* ), probably, but I've never seen Sam 
and Pippin together, and yet they have a definite link in that as the 
younger of each pairing they almost would have had to initiate 
things themselves to get past their "elder's" inhibitions.  So they 
have a common goal, and yet they are such opposites in character.  
Thought I'd have fun with that.   Year is 1413 S.R., Frodo is 45, 
Sam is 33, Merry is 31 and Pippin is 23.   
  
 
"Takin' Care"
 
 
Sam's coming of age birthday dinner was a grand affair--perhaps 
not grand when compared to dear old Bilbo's last bash before he 
disappeared, but it was certainly the largest party ever held in 
Sam's favor, he thought as he downed yet another glass of ale to 
yet another toast.  
He was feeling very well indeed, well into his cups now as the 
evening drew on.  He'd danced with Rosie (and managed to evade 
his mother's questions over just how long he would wait now 
before he asked for her hand in marriage), managed to out-wrestle 
Sancho Proudfoot (the lad might be eight years his junior, but gads 
was he strong!) and even avoided a practical joke planned for him 
by Merry and Pippin who had come to town to celebrate with him.
It had *almost* been a perfect evening.
If only he could get a moment alone with Frodo.
Unfortunately, things were crowded at The Green Dragon, Sam’s 
usual haunt—besides the ten or so friends of his at the party, there 
were also his parents, the Sandyman family, old Holman, and the 
entire Cotton family.
In all the chaos Frodo had kept mostly to himself, despite Merry 
and Pippin’s best efforts to get him to relax and join in the fun.  It 
was the dwarves, Sam knew—Frodo was growing restless, he was 
traveling the Shire and talking to parties of dwarves from the Blue 
Mountains about news from the outside world—perhaps news 
about Bilbo  Sam was supposed to keep an eye on Frodo's doings--
that was the agreement between Merry, Pippin, Fatty and him, but 
sometimes Frodo kept so close to himself, it was a real trial.
The same way he kept his emotions so close, never revealing if he 
felt anything special for Sam or if he was just being kind to a 
family friend and servant.
Sam watched Frodo conversing with the Gaffer, his dark curls 
framing a face the elves themselves must be envious of, bright blue 
eyes shining as he laughed at the Gaffer's jokes, showing off that 
tiny gap in his teeth that made Sam's stomach go all fluttery . . . 
such a small lithe body.  What would it be like to meld his larger 
frame against Frodo's, feel Frodo's soft breath on the nape of his 
neck . . . .
His loins tightened and he tore his gaze away before he betrayed 
his inclinations for all to see.  He was of age now--nothing to stop 
Mr. Frodo from doing anything he liked with him, but he daren't 
ask for it; even though Frodo showed little interest in the lasses, 
there was no sign he was into lads instead.  So close, those 
Bagginses!  Made him want to cry sometimes.
Pippin's voice at his ear gave him a start; he hadn't heard the little 
imp creep up on him.  "Having a good time, Sam 'ole boy?"  He 
was obviously into his cups as well; he wrapped a small arm 
around Sam's shoulder and swayed into him, fighting to keep his 
balance.  The unexpected weight nearly toppled them both before 
Sam grabbed him about the waist and steadied him.
"Ho, there, Pip!  Getting a mite friendly, there, I'd say!" Sam said 
with a laugh, hugging Pippin and making sure he was steady on his 
own two feet before breaking away.  Was it his imagination, or had 
he felt a slight bulge in the young hobbit's trousers as they were 
pressed together?  His had not fully diminished; he hoped Pip 
figured its cause was his dancing with Rosie earlier, and that he 
hadn't seen Sam staring longingly at Frodo.  
Pip was staring at him, thoughts dancing in those wide-set eyes of 
his.  It had to be the ale, it simply had to be, but Sam found himself 
looking at his face--really looking at him in a way he hadn't before, 
at the line of his jaw, his long straight nose, his thin lips curving up 
into a delicious smile.
Behind him he heard Frodo laugh.  Sam bit his lip and turned, 
wondering if he dared go over there to speak to him with his father 
there and him in such a state . . . he needed someone tonight, he 
wanted to be with Frodo, but he couldn't risk asking--if Frodo 
didn't feel the same way, if he was horrified by Sam's desire, what 
would he do?  Throw himself into the Water at Bywater, most 
likely.
"Frodo looks like he's having a good time," Pippin said in a quiet 
voice.  It was not his usual carefree tone.  Sam turned back and 
saw a pensive look cross his face.  He looked . . . why he looked 
alone, Sam thought, and that certainly wasn't right, as alone as he 
himself felt tonight.
"Where's Merry?" Sam asked--why was Pippin here with him, and 
not his cousin--the two were inseparable, or so he'd always 
thought.
A black look crossed Pippin's face and Sam gulped.  "Merry's busy 
with Fatty's sister.  Outside."  He tried to sit down at an empty 
table and missed the chair by an inch or two.  He landed hard on 
his backside but Sam was there to help him up and set him down 
into the chair properly, gently holding him with one arm around his 
waist and the other across his shoulders.  
Pippin's frame was as small and slender as Frodo's, Sam couldn't 
help noting as his arm left his waist and he took his own chair 
across from him.  And that flash of emotion that had crossed his 
face a moment earlier--Sam knew that look.  He knew that look 
every time Frodo hugged his cousins or smiled at a pretty lass.  
That was jealousy.  
He wasn't quite sure what to say in response, so he just nodded.  
"Are you and Merry staying up at Bag End tonight?"  Now that 
was a dumb question--where else would they be staying?  He 
fumbled for something else to say.  "Perhaps we could find you a 
nice lass to dance with . . . or something . . . " that did it; he flushed 
clean to his roots, thinking about exactly what kinds of things he'd 
like to be doing tonight.
"You're so lucky to be of age, Sam.  I wish I were older.  Then 
maybe everybody wouldn't treat me like a child.  You don't think 
of me as a child, do you?"  Pippin was pouting, but even so he was 
reaching across the table and taking Sam's hand in a manner more 
befitting a lass trying to seduce him than a young and supposedly 
innocent friend.
"No, I don't--the truth is I forget as often as not, and think you and 
Merry are the same age," Sam was truthful in that--what had he 
been thinking, trying to get Pippin bedded?  He was ten years 
younger than Sam--old enough to have an idea about things, 
maybe, but not necessarily to experience them . . .
"Hah!  I wish Merry would.  Then maybe he'd choose me instead 
of those silly girls he uses all the time."  
Sam gaped and the blood rushed back into his face.  Had he heard 
right?  Or was Pippin just very far gone tonight?  "Maybe I should 
walk you home . . . " he muttered, wondering if he was up to the 
task, him having so many crazy ideas of his own this evening.
"Would you ever want me, Sam?  I see you looking at Frodo all the 
time."  
Sam choked and looked around wildly to see if anyone had heard--
oh this was just dandy; if Pippin knew then Merry probably knew 
and next thing the whole Shire would know!  And as for Pippin . . . 
what should he say?  The truth was, Pippin was looking awful fine 
this evening, what with Frodo out of reach, but he didn't love 
Pippin, not like Mr. Frodo, and Pippin was supposed to be 
innocent, but then clearly he was not!  "Does Merry know?" he 
managed to get out, trying to figure his answer.
"About me or you?"
"Both!"  Sam's heart was pounding and he was beginning to 
sweat.  Nobody was near enough to hear their conversation, but 
any minute now he was sure Fatty or Rose or one of her brothers 
might walk up to give him yet one more slap on the back and a 
"hearty good fellow there, hey?"
"Neither.  He doesn't know about either of our wants.  I haven't had 
the guts to say anything about me, and if he knew about you, I'm 
sure he would have teased you by now."
Too true.  But Sam wasn't going to give him the fodder for that if 
he could help it.  "I think I'd better walk you home, Master Pippin.  
Hang on just a minute; I'll go tell me da; then we can leave."
Pippin rose and leaned into him.  "You'll take care of me?"  His 
breath was warm against Sam's ear, and a delicious shiver ran 
through him.  He tried to think pure thoughts and failed miserably.  
"Yes, I'll take care of you, Pippin," he replied.  Only question was, 
who was going to take care of him?  If the imp kept this up, they 
would end up in bed together, and who knew what the morning 
would bring?  It could all be another of his pranks, for all he knew.
Not trusting Pippin to behave himself if left alone, Sam dragged 
him along, steering him past those still dancing and trying to keep 
objects out of their way--funny how things seemed to leap right out 
at you when you'd had a few too many beers.  There was Frodo 
now quietly sipping an ale, watching as the two of them 
approached . . . Sam had to remember to breathe, he felt so 
lightheaded, and his groin . . . well he was just getting more and 
more uncomfortable.  Time to call it a night.
"Pippin here's had a few too many--Merry's busy so I'm going to 
make sure he gets home all right.  I'm about through for the 
evening meself--thanks ever so much for the party, Da, Mr. Frodo, 
sir."  He was blushing hotly as he spoke--he hoped it only looked 
like he was a bit drunk himself, which of course he was.
"You're walking him all the way back up to Bag End?  You can 
sleep there, if you like, Sam--I've plenty of rooms."  Frodo looked 
concerned at the state of both of them, but apparently he wasn't 
ready to retire himself--Rosie's two brothers had joined their circle 
and were in deep heated debate over what it meant that so many 
dwarves had been seen crossing the Shire lately--Sam knew Frodo 
would stay if only to hear if they had heard anything from the 
dwarves.  Another twist of jealousy in his gut--lucky Cotton boys.
"Oh yes, he'll have to stay--won't hear of him having to walk all 
the way home once he gets there!" Pippin piped in and Sam got 
ready to pinch him in case he started blurting out anything 
untoward.
Frodo nodded, his eyes locked on Sam in a way that made his heart 
clench.  "Yes, you really must.  You look a bit done in yourself."
"It's settled then!" Pippin chimed, and Sam stammered what he 
hoped was a gracious thank you before steering the two of them 
off--any longer there and he was sure Pippin was going to give 
everything away.
They managed to say their goodbyes quickly to the rest of the 
party, then outside where it was cool and dark Sam breathed a sigh 
of relief--and then he spotted Merry.
It was doubtful Merry spotted either of them--he was half hidden 
in the bushes, and he had his hands rather--no, *very* full with 
something--namely Estella's bosom.  They were deep into kissing 
and he doubted very much that an Oliphant trumpeting past would 
have deterred them.
Too late he saw the anger in Pippin's eyes--fairly glowing green 
now, and deadly--before the younger hobbit cleared his throat quite 
loudly . . . and pushed him into the side of the tavern to press his 
body against him and claim his mouth in a fiery kiss.
The shock of the feel of him, pressed hard into his body (and 
*very* hard indeed in a certain place) made Sam gasp aloud, and 
that only allowed Pippin to lash his tongue to explore inside.  His 
knees went weak all of a sudden, as heat seemed to flow through 
him to center in his aching cock, swelling to full size until it 
strained at the ties of his trousers.  Oh, this was better than 
anything he'd ever imagined, and neither of them even knew what 
they were doing!  
As incredible as it all felt, however, he remembered they were 
standing at the doorway to the Green Dragon with Merry within 
sight--not to mention Fatty's sister.  He tore himself away, which 
tore a low trembling moan from Pippin, and shook his head.  
"That's not the way to get Merry, Pip, and besides which, we don't 
want to be caught like this, no how.  Come along home, there's a 
good lad."  He was shaking himself with need, but he wasn't going 
to give in.  Pip *was* a good deal younger; he didn't necessarily 
know what he was doing, and anyhow it didn't seem right--really 
Merry *should* be the one to be with him, if anyone was.  
"Can we continue once we get there?"  Pippin's voice was so full 
of need--not just physical, but emotional, that Sam hadn't the heart 
to say no.
"We'll have a talking when we get there.  Come on, let's leave 
those two alone, Pip.  You do have to be respect Merry's wishes in 
this, you know.  It's hard, I know, but you can't make someone love 
you."  Sam began walking, holding Pippin close around the 
shoulders.  The road was steadier under his feet now--maybe that 
kiss had sobered him up a little.
"I love you, Sam, like a friend, you know.  Maybe not the same 
way as I love Merry, but please, if you could stay with me tonight . 
. . I want to experience some things, maybe then I won't miss not 
having those experiences with Merry.  Please?"  Pippin was crying 
softly, and Sam's heart felt torn in two.  He hurried to fetch a 
handkerchief from his pocket and offer it to Pippin.  Pippin 
accepted it gratefully and leaned into his shoulder.  Sam sighed at 
the feel of his slight frame fitting just about right against him, just 
about right . . .
"Come along home, everthing's going; to be just fine.  I'm takin' 
care of you, Master Pip."  Sam lead and Pippin followed meekly, 
past hobbit holes and gardens, pastures and stands of trees.  To the 
outside eye they probably looked just like two hobbits too deep 
into their cups, weaving as they walked and holding onto each 
other for support.
On the inside they were both heartsick.
 
*****
TBC