Old Winyards

Chapter: Fourteen
Pairing: Frodo/Sam
Authors: Catherine and Thuri
Rating: A
Warnings: Language.
Summary: Sam makes a stab at the paperwork.

Author's note: Starting today, we should be back on track for regular postings. Sorry, but ORC stole my brain and jet-lag did the rest. No travel plans any time soon, so all should be well.


"Fucking hell!" Sam threw the pen he'd just chewed in half right across the room, heedless of the marks spattered on the wall as it hit. He launched himself out of the desk chair and propelled himself to the other side of the office. He knew enough not to rip it all up and pitch the lot out the nearest seven windows, but he didn't want to take any chances. He thought briefly about pitching himself out the window next to him, but slumped to its seat, instead. "Oi, Frodo-love, here's a fine mess, an' all!" he murmured, under his breath, unaware of the figure that had crept into the room.

"Sam?" Frodo surveyed the mess in front of him. "Well... I was going to ask if you were all right..."

Sam's head snapped up when Frodo spoke. "You shouldn't be out of bed," he muttered, seeing Frodo's sunken eyes and unsteady gait. He made room on the window seat, but resumed his study of the floor.

Frodo sank down beside him. "I heard you shouting and cursing. Wanted to make sure we weren't under attack."

"We bloody well are under attack!" Sam all but yelled. "Between the IRS, the State of California, our customers and suppliers and the TTB, we bloody well have to tell them how each bottle of wine is feeling every hour on the hour or we get a bloody great fine and a right bollocking, and we can't bloody ship anything anywhere without breaking the law someplace or other, and then there are the fucking payroll taxes, and the bloody calculator's broken, and how the bloody hell did old Bilbo ever manage this without going insane, anyhow?" Sam was pacing, now. "Give me a spade, and I know how and where to use it. Give me a pen, and I just bite the bloody thing in half!"

"Oh." Frodo rubbed his forehead. "It's kind of a lot, isn't it?"

Sam bit his lip at the sight of Frodo struggling to sit upright, and he crossed the room in three strides. "Oh, love, I am sorry to complain," he said, sitting next to Frodo and putting his arm around him. “I just ain't used to it, is all, and there's so much more than I thought there would be. And I just want to do it all right."

Frodo nodded. "Complain all you want, Sam. You heard the noises I made at it." He sighed, pressing against him. "I'm sorry I can't be more help to you."

Sam kissed Frodo's brow. "I did hear those noises, an' all," he said, a chuckle in his voice. "I tried not to eavesdrop, but–"

"But paperwork is made by Satan?"

Sam laughed out loud and pulled Frodo close. "You do me heart good, you do," he said. "If you can make me laugh at this lot, you ain't never seeing the back of me!"

"I thought you wanted to try new positions," Frodo replied slyly, but snuggled in against him. "Thank you, for what you are doing, Sam. I can't tell you how much it means to me. And I just can't concentrate long enough for the figures to add up to anything."

"You're welcome, sweetheart," said Sam, blushing at Frodo's praise. "It means a lot to hear it from you. And I know you can't rightly do it yourself, just now. Even if you could, you still don't like wine," he said with a mischievous quirk of his eyebrows.

Frodo groaned. "You will never let me live that down, will you?"

A slow smile spread across Sam's face. "No. No, I don't believe I will, especially not in here, while I'm doing the sodding paperwork."

Frodo hid his face against Sam's chest. "Dammit..."

Sam chuckled, low and soft, and pulled Frodo closer to him. "If we play our cards right, the Estate will be able to afford new land. We could get you an orchard in the Northeast that grows Concord grapes, and then you could have your own brand of grape juice."

"Sam!"

Sam laughed. "Well, it were just a thought," he said, innocently. "You never said you didn't like grapes, after all..."

"You're evil."

"Why, Mr. Frodo, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Master, Sir!"

"The evilest."

Frodo's grin was so wide against his drawn face that Sam could feel it pressing into his chest. "Aww, you're tho thweet," he said, cuffing Frodo's shoulder, gently.

"Fwo-Fwo doesn't wike baby twak, Thammy," Frodo replied.

Sam groaned through his laughter. "Point taken," he said, grimacing. He looked down at Frodo. "Frodo-love, we really should get you back to bed. Can I walk you there? I need to not look at this bloody paper for a bit."

"I'm all right," Frodo protested. "But if you want to escape for a bit, I'll go with you."

"Why don't we go to the living room, then? We'll both have a change of scene, and there's a nice, comfy couch... And it's Daisy's day off, so we can sit there without causing a scandal. Or we could go outside and sit under that nice oak tree," he added, his mood brightening appreciably.

"I'd dearly love to get out of the house, Sam," Frodo said softly, snuggling closer to him.

"Then that's just what we'll do, love," said Sam, drawing his lover in as he felt him press closer. "That stack's waited a few weeks; it won't kill us if we let it wait another few hours." I hope, he thought.

"Doesn't matter," Frodo murmured. "I don't care if the vineyard closes down."

"Oh, love! If it closed down, where would we all be? What would happen to the land? How would we ever be able to visit the Honeymoon Cottage whenever we wanted to?"

Frodo smiled a little. "I've got money to keep the land, Sam," he said. "I could rent parts of it out, too... to people who do like wine."

"You could," said Sam, "but let's try keeping it in the family, for a bit, as it were. I've heard tell of a few folk who've been taken advantage of when they've done that, and I ain't of a mind to let that happen to you, nohow."

Frodo nodded. "Just thinking about it. If I don't get better..."

Sam tilted Frodo's face up to meet his eyes. "If you don't get better, we'll find a way to make it work for you. If I have to bring Mr. Merry in and have him manage the place for you, I'll certainly do that." Sam swallowed. "But I'm planning on you getting better."

"All right, Sam. I won't mention it again."

"Now, I didn't say that," said Sam, gently. "I want you to tell me when something's nattering at you, like that." He looked over at the paperwork and shivered. "Perhaps there's something in this room that makes us see the worst in everything. Maybe we'd best get out of here..." He glared at a particularly thick document that all but oozed black print. He tugged urgently at Frodo to get up and out of that small room with its unfriendly lighting and smell of toner.

Frodo stumbled against him, but regained his footing and smiled. "All right, let's go."

"Oh, I am sorry, Frodo-love," said Sam, helping to steady Frodo. "I do get a bit carried away, sometimes." He remained somewhat absent as he fled the room.

"Sam... Sam, I can't keep up..."

Sam stopped and whirled around, striding back to Frodo. "What on earth was I thinking?" he exclaimed, reaching Frodo's side. "I don't know what's come over me, Frodo. Maybe you'd best hang onto me arm and give it a good yank if I start bolting like that."

"Might just make me fall over," Frodo said wryly, though he took Sam's offered arm.

Sam groaned and wrapped his arm around Frodo's waist. "Maybe this'll keep me feet on the ground," he said, kissing Frodo's temple. "I'm sorry, love; I just can't seem to wait to be outside. I'll try to be good about it, though."

"I understand, Sam," said Frodo, kissing his cheek. "You belong to the earth, not that dusty room with all those papers."

"Ain't nobody belongs in that room," shuddered Sam. He stopped then, turning to embrace Frodo and kiss him, deeply. "Thank you for understanding, Frodo-love. I'm that lucky to have you."

"And I'm lucky to have you."

Sam looked into Frodo's eyes. "Let's find someplace a bit more private than under that oak tree," he growled.

Frodo smiled softly. "Oh Sam... I wish I could... But I'm afraid I'd fall asleep on you."

"Nothing wrong with a little cuddling until you did, is there?" said Sam, nuzzling Frodo's ear. "Besides," he said, for that ear, only, "I might like that, someday, under the right circumstances."

"If you made love to me until I passed out?" Frodo shivered. "Ooooo..."

Sam nipped at the ear he was savouring. "Sounds good to me," he murmured, low and thick as he licked a delicate stripe up the outer rim of Frodo's ear. "I want to stay inside you like that, joined for ages, hardening again when you wake up."

Frodo shivered. "Oh god..."

"Though we won't want to be doing that outside, just yet," said Sam, pulling Frodo gently toward a secluded spot not far from the oak. "I guess we'll just have to settle for some good, old-fashioned snogging."

"Anything you say, Sam," Frodo replied, knees weak for several reasons, now.

Sam leaned in to kiss Frodo, savouring the taste of his mouth, the curve of his lips, the slick, silky sinew of his tongue as it glided softly over his own. Feeling his own knees as they weakened, he sank to the ground, supporting Frodo as he went with him and pulling him into his arms and his lap, losing himself in him.

Frodo kissed back, long and tender. "Mmm..."

After what could have been minutes or hours, for all that it mattered to Sam, they pulled apart. "I don't care if I have to do all the paperwork in the world, if this is the reward for it," he murmured. "If I can spend my days with you like this, there ain't nought I wouldn't do."

Frodo's soft snore answered him.

Sam kissed him. "Well, you did warn me," he said, and he lifted Frodo in his arms, carrying him back to the bedroom and settling him into the bed. "I'd best be getting back to the paperwork," he said, looking wistfully at his lover. He kissed his forehead. "It's a good thing Dr. Peredhel is seeing you tomorrow," he murmured. "Those pills ain't working, nohow." With a final caress of Frodo's cheek, Sam left, returning to the office with a determination he hadn't known he possessed, and attacked the mountain of paper in earnest.