By: Dana
Summary: Bilbo, and his very grand plans.
Characters: Bilbo, Primula, Drogo, Frodo, Lobelia, Otho, and Lotho
Pairings: Drogo/Primula, Otho/Lobelia, if you want to get technical *grin*
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Author's Notes: This was utterly random. And is dedicated to dreamflower02.
Wow, and talk about something I've never tried before.
Disclaimer: The author makes no claim to owning the rights of anything to do with J.R.R. Tolkien or New Line Cinema. Any and all characters and situations that have been borrowed are for the author's personal use only, and for the entertainment of others.

SR 1369, Bag End

"Really now, Prim, don't think you're a bother. Sit, sit, and let me have a look at your delightful son." With a wide gesture, Bilbo ushers Primula to his own favoured seat, smiling as she sits, with Frodo, bundled in a fine blue blanket, in her arms – a colour that goes, most fetchingly, with his baby-blue eyes, and with the darker blue of his mother's brocade bodice. "Oh, but he has his mother's eyes. Now, Drogo, are you certain this lad is yours? Takes after his mother fully, if you ask me – " then he looks back at Drogo, who's standing at the door. "Not to say that that's all bad, if you ask me. It might have been good for us all if you'd taken after Ruby, and not your da – old Fosco wasn't the best of us Baggins, at least when it came to his looks."

Drogo moves from the door, arms crossed over his chest, eyes shining out beneath his dark curls, and above his wide smile. "Now, I'll let that slip, old cousin, but only since you've made my Primmie smile. And my Frodo, too – lad, do you think that very funny?"

Frodo must think everything is funny, from the way he smiles – but then, he's still rather young, and he hasn't even made a full year. Then he shuts his eyes, with a yawn that's almost too big for his small face, and Bilbo strokes one finger across his powder-soft cheek. "I'm glad you could all manage this visit," he says, but then he laughs and stands straight. "Now, look at us, all flocking around this little lad. Drogo, you can have a seat or, if you like it, you could see to the tea."

Drogo stands, grinning, and rubs his hip as his back gives a loud pop. "Oh, I think I'll look in on the tea. And the cakes, too, as they can't be far behind."

Bilbo makes a dismissive gesture, nodding in Drogo's direction. "Oh, I'm sure you're quite right." It was moments, then, after Drogo had left the room, when there was a hard knocking at the front door. Bilbo chuckles, then straightens to a stand, and fidgets with the copper buttons of his coat. "Oh, my dear, but it seems that the rest of our party has arrived."

"I can only imagine what you're up to, cousin," Primula says, but she shakes her head and grins. "But I'm certain that, whatever it is, it will be grand."

"You have always had a Took's sharp sight, Prim," he says, and then he turns – another hard knock, and Bilbo raises his voice as he leaves the parlour. "Oh, I'm coming now, I'm coming. You needn't break knock so hard, there's no need to break down the door."

He somehow manages his smile, and keeps it in place, when he throws the door open and almost throws Otho off his balance. "There you are, then! And here I'd thought you'd forgot all of our plans."

Otho rights himself, and scowls down Bilbo's nose, but it's Lobelia who shifts her umbrella and, with an unpleasant smile, says, "Oh, now, we would never be so terribly amiss. Lotho, do say hello to your cousin!"

Lotho, with his head of sandy curls, looks up from where he stands at his mother's wide skirts, and Bilbo, from the look of Lotho's smile, guesses that the lad must take after his mother more than his father, just like Frodo and Prim. And anyhow, they all look as though they're dressed in their best (there aren't any grass stains on Lotho's little coat, Bilbo notes), and he almost feels bad following through on all his plans. "Hullo, cousin Bilbo," he says, as if he's hoping Bilbo might give him a handful of sweets. Bilbo ruffles Lotho's curls, instead, and ushers them all in. Lotho, at five, is already rather large for his age and he seems to be stringing words together well, too.

"To the parlour, now. Lobelia, do give me your umbrella, and your coat."

He follows after them, smiling to himself and humming a little, too, and finds the Sackville-Bagginses gathered at the parlour-door. "Now, why are we all waiting? I've plenty of chairs, haven't I? Do have your seats."

Now, Bilbo knew that this would happen, and he smiles wider at the sight before him – Lobelia, smiling so wide and with her jaw clenched so very tightly, it's a wonder that she hasn't broken all her teeth, with Otho at her side and his aggravation apparent in the shaking of his frame. Only Lotho doesn't seem to mind, or care, and he's gone into the parlour, a sweet cake in hand and a mess of frosting all over his mouth. Bilbo puts his hand on Otho's shoulder, and Otho tenses. "Now, now. Why are we all waiting? My dear Sackville-Bagginses, you ought to take your seats."

Lobelia's skirts swish loudly as she enters the parlour, taking her son by his hand and jerking him towards her seat – a hard-backed one, from the kitchen, and she frowns in obvious disdain as she eyes Drogo and Primula. Primula shakes her head, her expression somewhat bemused, and Bilbo gives Otho's shoulder a firm pat and that startles Otho into motion, and he takes the empty chair nearest Lobelia. Lotho complains, loudly, as he reaches for the tray of sweet-cakes, and Bilbo straightens his coat and then enters the room, offering Lotho one of the sweets, himself. Even that sets Lobelia frowning, as Lotho makes a quick mess, and she stares knives at Bilbo as he settles down on the sofa, and takes Primula's hand. Lobelia's gaze narrows, and Lotho drops crumbs all over the good carpet. Now, perhaps Bilbo hadn't thought that through, as much as he could have. But there is something dangerous in Lobelia's gaze, something that makes him dragon-fire, something that makes him think of being caught by Smaug's gaze, instead.

"Now, it is good to have you here. Unless you count the Dwarves, I really haven't had much company, these past years. Now, of course, I think you ought to enjoy your tea."

"Bilbo, if I had expected," Primula whispers at him, and he turns and looks at her and winks. "Here, Frodo is restless. Have you held a child, Bilbo? Lately, that is?"

"Oh, not since Hamson was born and oh, that lad, he was a handful. Never have seen old Hamfast be so grateful, and just to have another pair of helping hands about. Of course – oh, thank you, Drogo, you do know how I like my tea – now, of course, Hamfast hadn't thought it proper, but then, if he knew his letters, I think he might just be able to fill a book with what was proper, and what was not!" He laughs, and blows at the steam curling off his tea, and then he smiles rather foolishly at his company, and takes a long sip.

"Are you ready now, cousin?" Primula asks, eyes bright. Bilbo nods, and sets his tea cup on its cosy, and he holds his hands out and takes hold of Frodo and his fine blue blanket.

"Oh, but you're a handful, too," he says, laughing. Frodo blinks his eyes at him, and Bilbo looks at Primula and Drogo. "Can he do anything, then? Well, other than be a charmer. And he is a charmer, taking after his mum." In the silence that comes, after he laughs, he can almost hear the tension in the room. He smoothes his fingers across Frodo's brow, and Frodo closes his eyes again. "Oh, and other than sleep. He does like to sleep."

"Well, we did have a long ride," Primula says.

"Oh," Bilbo replies, going on as if he's forgot that he's other company about, and that Lotho has all but emptied the tray of sweet-cakes. "Well, see, you are quite right, my dear. It isn't good, with you and – "

Otho opens his mouth. "Bilbo, I have had quite enough of all this," he snaps, and stands. "Lobelia, take our son. It is clear that we are not wanted here, and unless you feel that these queer Bucklanders are more important than your own blood – "

"Now, now," Bilbo says, waving his hand and then seeing that that is rather more complicated than it ought to be, and he smiles half-heartedly and returns the dozing Frodo to his mother's arms. Primula shakes her head at him, as she's been doing since she'd arrived, and tucks Frodo back, safely, into her arms. "Ah, where was I – oh, yes. Now, Otho, you go on about blood, and it's importance, and yet you insult dear company, right in front of my face." He stands and, for a third or so time, straightens out his jacket. Lotho has finished with the last of the sweet-cakes, and Lobelia stands at her husband's side, hands clutched at her sides. "And they are blood, too, for all you think them queer Bucklanders – but, oh, I promise you, that Drogo and Primula are as Baggins as you and – well, as much Baggins as I am."

Otho straightens to his full height (which, really, isn't that impressive), and his expression is as sour as his wife's. "I see what you are up to, then. Well, goodbye – I won't have you laughing, not at our expense."

Drogo and Primula, who are both looking at Bilbo as if he's cracked, watch him as he stands and then follows after the retreating Sackville-Bagginses – as Lotho complains, in a low voice, that he'd like more sweets, and now, and Lobelia snaps at him that he'll not be having anymore, not if dignity is their price – and he shuts the door behind them, when they go out into the sunny day. Primula is standing, by the time he's made it to the parlour, and Frodo is sleeping in his father's arms. "See, now, I knew you had this planned. Well, not this, but it was something – not that I see your point, but you did get their blood hot. Perhaps you'll be so kind, cousin, as to let us know why you've set the Sackville-Bagginses off, and at such a price?"

"Oh, it was no price, Prim," he says, and kisses her cheek. Then he chuckles, and shakes his head, and rubs his chin. "Just that I had been meaning to get to it, oh, sometime since before Frodo here had been born."

"What are you up to, Bilbo?" Drogo asks, amazed.

"Just that I let slip that I will be finalizing my will, and soon, and somehow – oh, somehow, Otho heard word. He must have decided what I would be adding, giving that he'd be invited here for tea." Bilbo shrugs, with a little laugh. "He must have thought that I would add him, though, really, I can't see would have him thinking that."

Drogo's mouth falls open, and Primula's eyes go wide. "Oh, Bilbo, you can't – "

"Prim, you take after your mum, too – I almost feel it's Mirabella who's smiling at me, when you look at me that way." Then he chuckles, fidgets with a button, and holds out his arms. "I will not be here, always, and you will always, always, have a home. I had meant to tell you that, before I found myself so rudely interrupted. And before you tell me that it is too much, well," and he shrugs, and taps his pocket. "The papers are all complete, and they're fully legal, too. If there is someone who ought to have this place, when I'm gone – well, I think it ought to be you, Prim, you are your lads."

"Bilbo, you are a marvel. However you manage it, I'll never tell." Then, smiling like her mother would have, Primula throws her arms about Bilbo, and hugs him tight. He hasn't ever told them, but they are like his children – oh, the children that he never had, the one's he's certain he never will. "Well, if we've no other choice, I feel we must accept. But I," and she leans back, shaking her head as she looks him in the eyes. "Well, we've had no time to talk it over, and given that you are being so very generous, I think we do accept."

"Oh, good, good," he says, and kisses her on the cheek. Then he pats his pocket, smiles at Drogo and the sleeping Frodo, and says, "Now, perhaps we ought to finish our tea."