Originally written in 2011 for the Makeout Meme.
“Ohhhhh.” Sam’s bottom hit the bench with a thump. “I’m that stuffed, Frodo, I don’t think I’ll be able to move for a month. You outdid yourself and that’s a fact.”
Frodo was afraid that he had outdone himself - and outfoxed himself. He’d cooked all Sam’s favourite dishes and served them by candlelight with a rare vintage of Old Winyards, striving for a romantic atmosphere that might lead to tender lovemaking, not Sam declaring he was too stuffed to move.
You’re a victim of your own success, Frodo Baggins, he thought ruefully. He took a seat beside Sam, and they leaned back with their hands folded on their full bellies (Sam’s protruding considerably more than Frodo’s) and their feet stretched out in the lavender where a pair of equally plump bumblebees ambled from purple blossom to purple blossom. But while matters weren’t going entirely to plan, there were compensations.
“Look at that sunset, Sam. Isn’t it beautiful?” asked Frodo. Indeed, the sky was streaked with brilliant bands of colour and the setting sun turned the Bywater Pool to a sheet of shimmering gold.
“It is,” Sam agreed. “I’ve rarely seen a finer.”
Frodo reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his pipe. He was startled when Sam said, “Here now, what are you about, Frodo?”
“Having a smoke,” replied Frodo.
Sam looked hurt. “You cook all my favourite dishes, serve ‘em with a bottle of Mr. Bilbo’s wine, and by candlelight no less, lead me out into the garden to watch the sunset, and now you reckon on having a smoke? I sometimes wonder if you’ve got a romantic bone in your body, Frodo Baggins!”
“But Sam,” protested Frodo, to no avail.
Sam took the pipe and set it aside, then cupped his palm at the back of Frodo’s neck and drew him down for a lazy, leisurely kiss. It was awkward on the bench, so they simply slid down into the lavender, which made a much more comfortable snogging place, even if it did cause the bumblebees to depart on an indignant buzz.
“Now ain’t that better than a smoke?” said Sam smugly, sometime later.
Frodo propped his elbows on Sam’s chest, and considered explaining that this had been his goal all along. But what it did matter? He had Sam where he wanted him, and there were more important things to think about, like those tempting crinkles at the corners of Sam’s eyes that were simply crying out to be kissed.
“Much better, Sam,” Frodo agreed.