Chapter Text
When Sam arrived that morning, bright and early, it took several minutes for Mister Frodo to answer his knock. The new master of Bag End looked quite haggard, with dark circles under his striking eyes and cheeks that were far hollower than they should be, and Sam felt a twinge in his heart.
“Good morning, Mister Frodo!” he said, not yet giving voice to his concerns, and then because after all he could guess at the source of the grief, and felt it too, “Mister Bilbo will be rightly missed by everyone. He was gracious, and mighty charming too! You must feel it awfully.”
Frodo let out a gusty sigh that Sam would have sworn could be felt by his old Gaffer down the lane. “I do, Sam. I do.” He sat heavily upon a chair at the table, staring into nothing. Sam, looking about him, noticed that the kettle was not on, the fire unlit, the pantry a bit bare. He felt another stirring of uneasiness.
"Mister Frodo..." he began, "are you sure you're alright?"
"What?" said Frodo.
"I said," Sam began to repeat, "are you sure -"
"Oh!" said Frodo, a little too loudly. "Yes. I'm quite alright. Just - sleepy. Paperwork, you know. So many signatures required now that Bilbo is gone. I will miss him," he repeated.
"So will we all," said Sam, feeling somewhat useless. Frodo was really far too thin, and far too worried-looking for a young gentleman who had just come into an inheritance.
"Er - if it wouldn't be too much of a liberty," he began, "might I at least put the kettle on?"
"What?" said Frodo again. "Oh. Of course. Of course! Make yourself at home. You are not unwelcome here just because Bilbo is gone, you know. You should consider the place as quite your own when you are here."
Sam blushed. Mister Frodo was so kind - too kind for the likes of him, really, or so his old Gaffer would say. He bustled over and filled the kettle, then put it on the fire to heat.
"You should at least have a nice cup of tea, Mister Frodo," he said, "and if you'll let me, I'll make up a little breakfast. Maybe some rashers and eggs to begin with, and I can come back later to make more if you like. Not that I don't want to get out and start working in the garden," he said hastily. "I just - wanted to check in, I suppose," he finished lamely.
Frodo's face brightened, a little, which made it all worth it. "Oh no!" he said. "You don't have to do that for me! I truly will be alright, Sam."
"I know," said Sam, who really didn't know at all. He was emboldened by Frodo's little bit of cheer, and the blush that seemed to be creeping up his cheeks. "I want to. If you'll permit me, of course."
"I - all right," said Frodo. "Thank you, Sam."
"Of course!" said Sam, buoyed beyond words. "I'm happy to help."
He quickly made up a cup of tea and fried up a few eggs and a bit of bacon, placing a plate firmly in front of Frodo. "Now you eat, Mister Frodo. And don't you worry about a thing," he added on impulse. "You'll be an admirable Master of Bag End, I know it."
" - oh," said Frodo, and for an alarming moment he looked as if he was about to cry.
Oh, dear. That wouldn't do at all.
"Well," said Sam hastily, "I'd better be off. Lots of work to do in the garden, you know. Er. Good day."
He hurried out in the sunshine before Frodo could say anything. It was quite a hot day for September, but the breeze still felt cool upon his flushed cheeks. Frodo had looked so lovely - and so sad - and - and it was quite unseemly to become this worked up over his employer -
He hoped Frodo was doing all right. He had looked so tired.
He would not check. He wouldn't.
But by midmorning, he was deadheading the dahlias out in front, and, well, they looked so pretty all gathered in his basket, and he knew there was an empty vase out in the front room of Bag End, and surely Mister Frodo would appreciate such a gesture?
He hastily swept a bundle of cut dahlias into his arms and stepped quietly into Bag End, filling the vase with water and carefully arranging the little flowers so they would appear to their best advantage. Then he carefully padded into the kitchen.
"Mister Frodo?" he called softly. "Mister Fro - oh."
Frodo was dozing at the table, chin resting on his hand. He looked at peace, this way, and far younger than he was.
Sam froze, for a moment, then tip-toed closer. He would just leave the flowers on the table, a nice surprise for Mister Frodo later. He didn't want to wake him; he obviously needed his rest -
Frodo's eyes fluttered open, bluer than blue. Their gazes caught, and with it Sam's breath. He could not look away.
After a moment Frodo blinked. "Hullo, Sam!" he said, smiling.
Sam blushed. "Apologies!" he said. "I only thought - you might appreciate some flowers. Brighten up the place, a little."
"Oh, Sam!" Frodo said. Was that - was that a little color in his cheeks? "What would I do without you?"
"I'm sure I don't know, sir," Sam said, trying to hide a smile.
"Well - be that as it may -" Frodo hesitated. "Sam - I am now Master of Bag End."
"Yes," said Sam.
"You know Bilbo was rather - eccentric."
"Er - yes," said Sam.
"Well - I thought I might continue the tradition."
"Oh?" said Sam, curious despite himself.
"Well," said Frodo, "if you are - amenable - I thought - Imightliketokissyou." He said the last words all in a rush, and Sam could hardly understand them.
Then suddenly they became clear in his mind, and he stood as still as if he had been turned to stone.
Dismay crossed Frodo's face. "I only meant - that is - you must feel free to say no. Say you won't say yes if you're unwilling. Oh, I should never have brought it up -"
"You want - to kiss - me?" Sam breathed.
Frodo took another look at his face, and his eyes - those eyes! - lightened a little. "I do - I do! But say the word, Sam - only say the word, and I shall never bring it up again."
"Don't you dare," Sam said fiercely. "Don't you dare."
A smile broke out over Frodo's tired face. "Then - then you -"
"Of course!" said Sam. "Who wouldn't?"
He pulled Frodo close, and kissed him soundly.