By: Dana
Summary: Never too old to do foolish things.
Characters: Pippin, Sam, mention of Frodo and Merry
Pairings: Sam/Pippin, Frodo/Sam/Merry/Pippin implied, definitely something Frodo/Sam underneath it all
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, sexual content
Author's Notes: You know what they say about saying no to Pippin. You just can't. Beta thanks to Hyel, who egged me on to get this written, and Aratlithiel, who came in and did an amazing job evening out all the rough edges that were left; thank you, you two! This story, I might add, is written in the same continuity as An Unexpected Turn and Welcoming (which both come a season before); and Sorting Notes (which is, in fact, a companion story to Stealing Gardeners, occuring in much the same time).
The time is autumn SR 1416 - Pippin is 26, and Sam is 36.
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.

"I've been thinking..."

"Aye, Master Pippin."

"Now Sam, this isn't any fun. You're only half paying attention, and I expect at least half more than that."

You could hear it when Pippin pouted, because Sam could hear it right then, and he chuckled when he looked up, spying the Took standing there, leaning back against the wall, like he was meant to be there, like Bag End was his own. Sam bowed his head, pushed a hand back through his hair, and when he looked back at Pippin, Pippin's petulant look had yet to fade. It (at least, for the length of a moment) made Sam forget where he was sitting, and what he was doing. Sam grunted a belated greeting, then rose to his feet. He went out the front door, and Pippin followed after, and Sam settled back down in the grass outside the round window nearest the front door, setting his toolbox down in the grass, too.

He turned, and looked at Pippin, and Pippin looked back.

"Better then, sir?" he asked.

"Much better, Sam," and Pippin managed a grin.

"And you were saying, then?" Sam asked, but he turned back to the next job the flower box was leaning on one side, the wood was giving, and it would soon break. With Pippin standing there at his side, he took out the hammer, and pulled back the rotting plank.

"Oh, aye, but I was."

"Well?" Sam asked, again, and he was well on his way to replacing the old with a new. Something Frodo'd not have thought of, but Sam would, and Sam had, and the late morning air was almost cool for a moment, a quick breeze. But there was sweat on Sam's brow, and he wiped at it, working the next plank free. It creaked, but gave, and he put it down in the pile.

Pippin propelled himself forward, kneeling down next to Sam, and Sam sucked in a breath of fresh air that tasted of autumn spice and Pippin's warm skin as Pippin leaned in far too close. "I was just thinking, Sam"

"Aye, Master Pippin?" Sam urged, when Pippin paused. "I won't be getting my work done, with you thinking so close."

Pippin laughed. " that we ought to run away."

Sam stopped for a moment, thinking, and then he burst into laughter. Pippin scowled, sitting back in the grass, and the look he gave Sam was wounded. Sam shook his head, and set the hammer down, reaching up to clear off the remaining wood. "That isn't very nice of you, Sam."

Sam snickered and shook his head, wiping his brow, and when he caught his breath, he gasped his apology, as Pippin's eyes went wide. He shook his head again and cleared the window's edge. "I'm sorry, Master Pippin, I am, but I couldn't help it, I couldn't, much as I did try."

Pippin grumbled. "You didn't try at all."

"Oh, but I did," Sam replied, and his eyes glinted. Pippin sat closer, and his breath was low, and his fingers curled against Sam's neck, and there was light in his eyes. Sam forgot the window and he forgot that there was work to be done, even as he wondered what it was that had brought Pippin here. It was Frodo, or Merry, who was putting such insensible thoughts into Pippin's head, though it could have been the both of them, as well. But then, that didn't surprise Sam now as much as it once did. It was strange, thinking, that if he'd known of what Frodo had shared with his cousins, before, well, he'd have been jealous, not knowing. He didn't know how to be properly jealous, and that was a foolish thing, when he was let in, when he was allowed to share.

"I meant it, you know."

"I know. And I'd have thought you too old for such foolishness, sir."

"I'll never be too old to be a fool," Pippin said, laughing, though he licked his lips and turned his head, gazing to the front door. "Will you be going with me, then? We could pack ourselves a picnic basket, and head on down to the Water, and Frodo and Merry will be wondering if we ran off to Rushy, without having a clue. We could have a nice day to ourselves, and those two can rot for a bit longer in Frodo's study. Arranging notes, as if. Please?" and his tone turned plaintive, and his fingers curled and twisted, and Sam's breath fell short.

"So I see," Sam chuckled, seeing that he had thought right, but he shook his head, rising to his feet, and Pippin sighed and followed after, right back to the front door. Sam wasn't sure why. Pippin was just Pippin, but he could still put Sam on edge, and that wasn't something Sam wanted to admit. Especially to Pippin.

"Haven't you a sense of adventure, Sam?"

"I've work that needs finishing, Master Pippin, and I haven't time to play."

"But Sam you've been working long enough, and you need a break, and it isn't as if it Frodo even expects for this to be done. He's too busy being well, busy, to see what's going on under his own nose. Please? It will be worth it, it will."

Sam didn't want to say no, but it twitched at him, worried him, and he shook his head. "I ought to let him know at least," he said, surprising himself, and Pippin laughed, rocking back on his heels.

"Our lunch is packed, Sam," Pippin said, and he leaned in close.

Sam laughed and closed his eyes, and felt Pippin's lips ghost over his. A moment, and a sigh, and they kissed in the hallway. Sam felt sunlight playing over their feet. He rocked against Pippin, and nearly toppled them both, and slid his arms around Pippin's waist, and pulled him close.

"Have this all thought out," Sam muttered. It was no question, but an obvious statement instead.

"I do," Pippin grinned, and he rocked back. Sam laughed, and they kissed again, in the almost-cool of the long hall. He drew back and Pippin's eyes were bright and heard laughter from Frodo's study.

"Well, he'll keep himself, as you say."

"So, we're set?"

"Aye but, well," and Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "Just let me finish the window basket, Pippin, and then we'll be off."

Pippin laughed, and grinned, and crossed his arms as he tilted his head. "Always work before play."

Sam laughed, too, and felt better for it.

But he was right. It wasn't long, then, until they were walking out under the sun, Pippin singing for them both, and Sam with the basket and a fully packed back. Sam had insisted, as was his way, and as they walke, Pippin continued singing along.

Pippin was sitting back on the grass, knees bent and legs spread, his feet planted in the grass beyond the edge of the old quilt. Sam blinked, and sat back, and followed the line of Pippin's sight, down to the river. The water was brown like good ale, and it was languid, almost as if it was completely still, in the afternoon heat.

Sam exhaled and turned, and when he looked at Pippin, Pippin was looking back. Grinning, that same, soft, infuriating grin, and he shifted, leaning forward, and he rested his hands on his knees. They had had their lunch, meat and cheese piled on slices of good thick crusty bread, and sliced apples, and Pippin had lamented that they had had no mushrooms to enjoy, after they had trekked halfway across the Shire, it seemed (though it was only Bywater, and that was hardly halfway to anywhere), and they had come to this spot off the road, hidden from sight by a thick copse of trees and a slope of land that curved gently to the water. Yes, it was there that they had had their lunch, and Sam wondered what was next to come.

Well, that would come next, and his lips tingled in anticipation, and Sam thought of kisses in Bag End's softly lit halls. But this was the Water, and this was a sky spread full and clear, and it shouldn't matter, because this was Pippin, and Pippin was already looking his way.

Oh, this was Pippin.

There was still a long day ahead, as well, and Sam thought of Frodo, and even Merry, back at Bag End. The afternoon was running long, by the time that they had made their way through Bywater proper, and it was longer still. The sunlight was faded, like the day was waiting to end. Sam thought of Frodo, again, and sighed, because then he was thinking of Pippin, again, and he felt as if he was waiting for Pippin to strike.

"What are you thinking about, Sam?"

"You," Sam surprised himself by saying, and Pippin's lips twitched, maybe at some secret thought of his own, and he moved forward, further, on his hands and knees right off the quilt and into the grass until he reached Sam. There, he collapsed, turning onto his side. When Sam looked at Pippin, Pippin was looking up at Sam, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand. This wasn't an unintentional meeting, this wasn't a rainy, awkward night. There was little that could be hid in this light, and Sam knew well what Pippin was thinking.

Maybe he was thinking the same.

"Me?"

"You, yes, though I can't as tell why."

Pippin nodded, grunting softly, and he sat up. When he did, he put one arm over Sam's shoulder, and he leaned in close. Pippin's breath was soft, like the flutter of butterfly wings, almost imperceptible, and his body was an impossibly warm autumn day. Sam turned his head, breathed him in, and slid one arm back round Pippin's waist.

"We oughtn't," he simply said.

But, then, it wasn't like he was wanting to say no.

Pippin pressed his mouth against Sam's, and Sam pressed back, grasping a fistful of Pippin's shirt as Pippin shifted, and sighed, his mouth opened. He pressed further, like they both were wanting, and tasted the sweeter cool of Pippin's mouth. There was the quick stroke of a sly tongue, and Sam's followed after. Pippin's taunt, and Sam felt his follow-through heavy-footed, and they kissed in silence for several moments, parting only when Sam's ears buzzed, numb, and his lips tingled, wet with Pippin's kiss.

"You haven't a clue how long I've wanted to kiss you like that."

"I'm almost wishing you hadn't waited."

"That's the spirit, Sam," Pippin said, laughing. He kissed Sam again, rocking forwards, pushing Sam back onto the grass. Sam went, and Pippin settled over him, and Sam pulled on Pippin's shirt, untucking it from his trousers, and Pippin laughed softly when Sam's knuckles brushed against soft skin.

Sam couldn't explain the pause like Pippin was holding more than just his breath and curls tumbled forward like a crown over Pippin's brow. He sank bac into Sam's mouth, like he was pushing Sam down into the ground. Grass tickled Sam's ears and Pippin's kiss was inexplicably sweeter, but far too short.

"Too hot for this clothing," Pippin whispered, drawing back, and Sam wondered if he would have cared if they had been in clear view of the road, when Pippin sat over him, humming, and Pippin made short work of the buttons of Sam's shirt. Sam's cheeks heated, Pippin's rear pressed firm against his legs, and his thighs heated, too, warmth stirring in his groin.

"Pippin," Sam grunted, and Pippin sat forward, pushing the shirt open, and Sam shifted, lifting his arms and struggling out of that tangle of clothing, though Pippin was pulling on it still, too. And it was dropped, after, and Pippin wet his lips, pressing his hands down flat against Sam's chest. He rocked forward, pressing down, and Sam groaned loudly through clenched teeth. "Pippin," he hissed, but Pippin only grinned.

"I'll have you know I " but he had no chance to say more than that, when Sam licked his lips and set him his task, and he pushed up, and rolled Pippin over, and the Took landed with an oomph and a look of surprise. "Now Sam," he gasped. "I thought nnngh," and his eyes closed, his jaw clenching, when Sam palmed the heat between Pippin's legs. "Sam. Oh."

Sam chuckled and he pressed further, gripping at hard flesh through rough cloth, and Pippin twisted underneath him, crying out helplessly as he clutched at Sam's arms. So Sam gave a slight twist and Pippin cried again, eyes shut tight. When Pippin was breathing hard, Sam undid the fastenings of his trousers, and Pippin opened his eyes slowly, looking up at Sam through slits. "Sam."

Sam chuckled, and he squeezed Pippin's cock, and Pippin's eyes rolled backwards as he gritted his teeth. Hard and soft, smooth like fine velvet, and Sam could feel it twitch and strain. He twisted on it gently, and Pippin's breath puffed. He gave a tug, and Pippin whimpered, clutching at him, grounding his toes into the dirt.

"Please. Pleasepleaseplease. Please."

So soft it felt slick. Sam drew back, caressing, and his stroke was hard, and Pippin's breath was soft in contrast. "Sam," he said again, and Sam grunted softly, low, right at Pippin's ear.

"I've been thinking."

"Have you?" Pippin managed.

"Aye. You brought it, you did, elsewise I can't see why you'd have brought me this far."

"I Sam I like your company, I do, and it'sinthebasket, it is." Pippin's breaths came hard, sharp, and crashed like imagined waves in Sam's ears. He drew back, and Pippin whined softly, opening his eyes. Bright green, reflecting cloud and sky. Sam sat back, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Pippin's hair was tousled, and there was color in his cheeks. The basket was in reach, sitting at the edge of the quilt. Sam drew out what he wanted, and Pippin tilted his head to one side.

"See," he breathed hard. "I" and Sam descended, kissing him hard, and Sam lost himself in a tangle of flesh, of Pippin's mouth and Pippin's kiss, and the feel of bare skin rubbing against restricting clothes. Pippin gasped and Sam sat back, pulling on Pippin's trousers, and Pippin wiggled out of them, helping as he could, and he laughed when Sam shucked them right off. Laughed, but then they were kissing, and Pippin slid one leg up, hooking it over Sam's, and he pulled Sam down hard, and they both groaned.

They didn't speak, they didn't have to; kissing, grinding slowly, with the heat of the day buzzing in their ears. The sun was shadowed by clouds, and Sam ground down. Pippin gasped and sighed, and Sam rolled them both onto their sides.

"Like this," Sam whispered, a breath against Pippin's cheek, and Pippin's eyes closed and Sam could feel the want, palpable, demanding, and it was radiating right off of Pippin. He could feel it, he could breathe it. He could taste it, too, and Pippin's skin was surprisingly cool.

"Just tell me. If I do something wrong."

"I doubt you will, but if you do"

 That was enough. Pippin snuck closer, pressed his nose against the crook of Sam's neck, and breathed softly, anticipating maybe that he would need to hold his breath, and Sam shifted forward, and he clenched his teeth, fumbling with the small jar that Pippin had brought along.

"Just go slow," Pippin gasped.

Success, and Sam did, pressing into Pippin, and Pippin seemed to press back, and Sam felt a stifling heat pressing down, too. It wasn't that the day was too hot, but it was Pippin, and he was holding him close, and he had come too far. Too soon. And he needed more, right now, even if it was only play.

And now was the time.

Pippin was hard, and he was slick, and Sam was breathless, fumbling with the fastenings of his breeks, pushing them down, pushing them off, kicking them in his fervor to see them gone. Pippin seemed to open to him, and he rolled back, taking Sam with him. The grass must be itching and scratching, but Pippin pulled Sam closer, and they kissed, and Pippin rocked forward, and flesh met flesh, and Sam hissed into Pippin's mouth, then sucked on that kiss.

Legs lifted, bent, and Pippin was breathing hard when Sam pressed against him. Fingers dug into Sam's arms, and he wondered if flesh would be broken, and Pippin was begging for him to move SamSamSamplease - and Sam gave in, pushing, and it was slow and steady only until Pippin pushed back and Sam found himself grounded in that heat. More than just stifling he was smothered fully by it and Pippin's mouth was warm, too, pressed against his jaw.

"Move," Pippin gasped. "Move."

Sam did, like something slow and awkward that was coming into itself, and Pippin tensed and hissed and thrust back, which Sam could feel, and it was an amazing thing, too. "Harder," Pippin said, demanded, and Sam wouldn't have no, he wouldn't, and he grunted hard, slamming forward. Sam thought Pippin would break right in two.

Sam kept pushing Pippin's knees were touching his chest and it felt too good, too good, and he had to keep at it, had to keep feeling. The pleasure was too much smothered him more than any heat and Pippin was saying something but Sam couldn't tell what. And Pippin almost seemed to wail when he spilled, and Sam felt a splash of something almost white hot against his belly.

When darkness flashed behind his eyes, Sam felt it, too, and he seemed to crash, slumping forward, spent.

The day was buzzing, louder than it had before, the slow drone of bees drifting in the air. Sam drew back, whimpered, and Pippin gasped for breath. "Now aren't you glad" Pippin started.

Sam chuckled, and kissed Pippin soundly, stealing those words right off his mouth. "I am," he said, after, and Pippin laughed against Sam's lips.

Fireflies were drifting in the air by the time they made it back up the Hill. Evening had come, and with it, cooler night air. "There you are," Frodo said from where he stood at the opened front door. Light spilled out from the hall within and Frodo seemed to glow.

"Stealing my gardener, I see," Frodo said, shaking his head.

Pippin (and his arm was linked with Sam's, the empty basket dangling from one arm, and Sam had the old quilt tucked under the other) laughed. "I'd thought that you'd say something like that. See, Sam, I said so, that he'd be saying something just like that."

"You'd said as such," Sam nodded, looking Frodo's way. Frodo, with his arms crossed, light in his hair, smiling warmly. Frodo laughed, shaking his head.

"Come on in, you two. Merry has supper ready, and you know how he gets if you start late. That is, Sam, you'll join us, won't you?"

Pippin was looking at him, and Frodo too, and Sam nodded, then grinned. "Can't think of a reason as I'd be saying no, sir, so I'll be saying yes."

"Excellent. Hurry now!"

They did, and Pippin took the old blanket, and Sam stopped at the front door and stood there next to Frodo. They were both quiet for a long moment, and Sam turned and looked at Frdo, half-lit by candlelight, half-lit by star and moon. There had been expectation of nervousness, of not knowing what to do or say, after that rainy night, after they had all four of them, and he wouldn't leave out Pippin or Merry, even if he could and Sam remembered it clearly, each touch, and each breath. And he remembered Frodo, because he wouldn't ever forget, and Sam wondered if he could ever have more.

He wanted more.

"I've been thinking"

"Yes, Sam?"

"Well, that is, and I don't mean nothing by it, at least, I don't think I do, but I I like this, you know, I do. Don't feel quite as odd as I'd think it would, and I sure as well thought that it would feel odd. I I like it," he finished rather lamely. "Feels right."

Frodo laughed and took Sam's hands, guided him into the smial. "It does," Frodo said, and as the door slid closed, Frodo leaned closer, and in the quiet that came when the door clicked shut, they kissed.

Sam drew back, first, wetting his mouth, and Frodo grinned, sighing, and leaned into Sam. "I'm glad you're here," Frodo murmured, and Sam put his hands around Frodo's waist, and pulled him close. From further in the smial, there was laughter, and Sam grinned at the impossibility of it all.

"I told you it would be worth it," Pippin later said, the next morning, in fact, and Sam, knowing that there were some simple facts and truths that spoke more than any words, and this was one of them, nodded and agreed.