By: Dana
Summary: In Minas Tirith, an unexpected offer makes the hobbits feel at home.
Characters: Sam, Merry, Pippin, Frodo, Faramir
Pairings: Frodo/Sam/Merry/Pippin + Faramir, Frodo/Sam, Merry/Pippin
Rating: R
Warnings: Slash, light sexual content
Author's Notes: Story written for the Games Hobbits Play challenge over at hobbit_smut -- my game being Tangled, the Gordorian version of the modern game "Twister" and the Shire definitely added forfeits. Beta thanks to Elly, who thought it funny, and Claudia, who thought the Frodo/Sam was hot, too. This story, I might add, is written in the same continuity as An Unexpected Turn, Welcoming, Sorting Notes and Stealing Gardeners. One day, I'll give this growing set of stories a name.
The time is summer SR 1419.
Nominated for the 2004 Golden Mushroom Awards.

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.

The sun was shining brightly, and the air in the garden was warm and still and flooded with the scent of half a dozen different flowers in bloom, perfectly calm and peaceful and just warm enough for a lengthy nap: and that was how Sam found his master and his master's cousins, dozing lightly in the sun. Merry was up against the tree, head at an angle, snoring softly, with Pippin's head pillowed against his thigh. Pippin's curls glinted brightly, side by side with Frodo's, and Frodo was curled against Pippin, fist full of Pippin's clean linen shirt.

There was birdsong overhead and the remnants of their at Merry's feet, and Sam crouched down at the edge of the old blanket; just that morning, Pippin had insisted that they all go on a picnic, since he would be off duty for three days, and wouldn't it be nice if Sam could go, too. But Sam hadn't been able to, as he had promised Lord Faramir and the King that they could have a talk about the Tree.

"You're awake, I imagine," Sam said, and Pippin's supposedly sleeping face grinned.

"I suppose you're right," Pippin replied, sitting up slowly, careful of Frodo as he did. He smiled brightly at Sam, and yawned. "Hullo, there. Did you have a nice talk?"

"We did as such, sir," Sam said, smiling. "Seems that you all had yourselves a nice luncheon, if I'm not mistaken."

"Oh, you're not. There was a particularly lovely lady from the kitchens who helped us pack. It would have been nice if you could have joined us, Sam, and I imagine if you poke about, it's possible that there's something left."

Sam was smiling still. "Don't you worry yourself, Master Pippin. The King took good care of me."

Pippin leaned back, and he looked up, then back down at Sam, perfectly relaxed. "Oh, I imagine that he did." As if judging the situation, Pippin then sat forward, and he lightly kissed Sam on the cheek. "Pity that you couldn't join us, though."

Sam's cheeks colored how could they not? and he gently stroked Pippin's cheek with the back of his hand. He was thinking too much and again, how could he not? sitting where he was, knowing what he did, and looking into the aged eyes of one who was far too young. "There will be more than enough time for that," Sam said, and he smiled faintly, and Pippin seemed positively pleased with himself.

"Yes," he said, and Pippin slouched backwards. "We will."

The war was done and gone, and things were back well, closer back, at least to how they should have been, and Sam wanted for little more. Pippin hummed softly, and Sam watched as he tilted his head back and narrowed his eyes, looking up in the direction of the sun before it then slid behind cloud cover. Then, Pippin nodded, looking back at Sam. It took Sam a moment to figure out why Pippin was saying what he was saying, once he started saying it.

"I still think you should have been here."

"Maybe next time," Sam said, and Pippin nodded, as if he liked the sound of that, and he looked down at Frodo, yawning softly as he stroked his fingers back through Frodo's hair. Sam moved closer, taking hold of Pippin's hand, threading their fingers together, and then Pippin said: "Frodo was wanting for you, and you know how Frodo can be."

Sam chuckled, hardly blushing, and Frodo shifted and then sighed. Pippin let slip his hand from Sam's, and then he lay back down beside Frodo, and quite good-naturedly said: "It's no good hiding, cousin. We know that you're awake."

Merry snored and Frodo grumbled, slowly opening one eye. "Curse you and your wretched good cheer," Frodo muttered, and Pippin grinned foolishly as he helped Frodo to sit. "You've grass in your hair," Frodo said, then.

Pippin plucked at the blade, then another that rested in Frodo's dark curls, and Frodo grumbled once more then ran his hands back through his hair. Pippin turned to look at Sam, and almost confidentially said as if Frodo wasn't right there to hear: "He's never been pleasant right after waking. But then, you'd know that, Sam."

"That hardly matters," Frodo shook his head, then, and looked at Sam. "Pity that you went off with Faramir, Sam, it would have been nice to have you around."

Pippin scoffed. "You act as if you haven't enjoyed mine and Merry's company, Frodo."

"Now Pippin "

But Sam spoke up, then, seemingly quite bold and brave. "I'm quite sure that he enjoyed your company quite well, Master Pippin," Sam said, and Pippin's eyes slowly widened, as Frodo's cheeks turned the same color as a blush rose, and it only fueled Pippin, as it would have, and he grinned, quite proud of himself, and of Sam, too.

"Now Sam," Frodo gasped, but then Pippin sharply laughed. Merry stirred and sat forward with a start, and Frodo sat closer to Sam as Pippin gave Merry a proper wake up kiss.

"I would have liked having you around," Frodo lightly said.

"I know as such, sir," Sam nodded. "But Lord Faramir, well, he was insistent, and he was wanting my advice. He said that he'd be joining us, sir, but he was needing to talk a bit more with the King"

Frodo smiled, then nodded. Merry made a sleepy noise as Pippin pushed him back into the grass, and both Frodo and Sam looked that way. "You haven't any decency, do you?" Frodo asked, but Pippin only looked up, grinning, and he tugged at the buttons of Frodo's shirt; one of them at least, thought Sam, had noticed that the shirt had been done up wrong.

Frodo blushed once more, and Merry made a comment, but it was swallowed up in Pippin's kiss. Sam couldn't help but smile, and he touched Frodo's hand; Frodo, who looked back at Sam, and smiled softly, too.

"Me dear," he said, then, and lifted Frodo's hand, bending his neck to kiss it. Frodo's other hand touched his cheek, fingers curving smooth, and Sam felt his heart flip-flop, as it often did when Frodo touched him, and even such a light touch, the smooth almost-not-touching?of cool fingertips, warmed his skin.

He lifted his head, and Frodo made to comment, but Pippin grunted as Merry rolled him onto his side, and Frodo laughed then shook his head. "My cousins," he said.

"We're having a go at rediscovering ourselves," Pippin smartly said. Merry laughed and pressed his mouth against Pippin's shoulder, and there was the sound of shifting cloth and Pippin arched lightly, gasping, and thought it couldn't be seen what Merry's hand was doing, still Pippin urgently said: "Please, Merry, rediscover that again."

Merry's laugh was deep and dark and quiet, and Pippin made a sharp noise, the sort that made Frodo think of, amidst other things, a contented cat. He turned and looked at Sam thought, despite Frodo's cousins, or maybe in spite of them, as he couldn't be sure, coupled with some other something that Sam couldn't know, it seemed that Frodo almost felt well.

Sam's hand smoothed over the back of his hand, and he smiled shyly, and Frodo smiled, too, and Sam felt that the moment gravitated inwards, and it wasn't but a tick on the clock later, and he could feel Frodo's breath warm against his opened mouth. "Oh, Sam," Frodo sighed, tilting his head.

"Frodo, me dear," Sam said, and he felt his own voice echo back against Frodo's lips, a warm reverberation that he could feel down to his toes. Frodo's mouth was smooth, but there had been a time when it had been weather-worn, cracked and bloodied, and Sam nearly burst into tears for the simple joy (and it was simple, it was, good and right and only as it should be), kissing Frodo as he ought to, that Frodo was here still, and with him, and that they both were whole.

Or mostly so.

He didn't mind missing out on a picnic luncheon, not now, birds singing sweetly overhead, the taste of Frodo's mouth thickly intoxicating, more so than any spirits had the right to be. Summer was in the air, warm and sweet, and Frodo's hands were moving slowly against his upper arms, and then Sam could feel them on his chest, pushing at the good dark vest that he was wearing; why, it was Frodo's favorite, or so Frodo had said.

"Sam," Frodo said, against Sam's mouth, and Sam lightly chuckled, shucking the vest off, letting it fall in the grass. He saw that Frodo looked over his shoulder, at Merry and Pippin, Sam knew, and Sam thought back, trying to figure out when they had last, all of them, been so close.

He remembered the first time, still, and Sam had to admit, that this was better of his nerves, and less stressing, than worrying that his Gaffer would come in, and find them all, and --

"Master Samwise?"

Sam coughed and snapped back, and Frodo, eyes wide and startled, and if Sam had had a thought against being slow and steady, he was suddenly and achingly glad that they had chosen such a path; turning quickly, he saw that Faramir had come in to the garden, and he stood there, his own eyes wide and shocked.

This couldn't be happening. It couldn't.

"Lord Faramir," Frodo said, and it was.

Sam suddenly felt bad for Pippin, and for Merry, too, as Pippin was flailing all over him and pulling his trousers back up. Faramir's mouth opened and closed and Pippin worked at the fastenings of his trousers, as Merry sat there, grass in his hair, eyes quite wide as well.

"Lord Faramir," Pippin said, and Faramir closed his mouth. Sam felt the air press down on him, uncertain, for what would Faramir say?

He hadn't expected Faramir to laugh.

"Is it really that funny?" Pippin asked, rising to his feet; and Merry felt that Pippin had in fact managed to grow, at least bolder than he once had been, as he now held his head high, even as he furiously blushed.

It was almost impossible to believe that there had been a time when Pippin had been less bold.

Faramir spoke up, though his expression was guarded even as he lightly, and sincerely, smiled, as he bowed his head quickly. "Not at all, Master Peregrin, though I must admit that I was taken by surprise."

Merry, ?ow that the first shock had worn, almost laughed at that. He stood, and Sam ambled to his feet, reaching for Frodo, who was now fastidiously brushing grass from his trousers. "Would it shock you so again?" Merry asked, truly curious, but grinning. This almost made up for sudden interruptions; almost, but not quite.

"I won't know until it happened, I suppose," Faramir quite amicably replied.

Well, Merry thought, he had to give Faramir the benefit of the doubt. The Man was standing up quite well, and it seemed that Pippin thought so, too. As well, it seemed that he had been as bold and as masterful as he could, at least for such a length of time, and under such circumstances, and he flopped back in the grass with a soft thump.

Merry flopped down next to him, as if to enjoy the show.

Frodo cleared his throat. "It is a pleasure to see you, Faramir."

"You did say that you'd be coming, sir," Sam then said.

Faramir nodded, smiling still, and he pulled something out from his arm, but paused midway, and pushed it back. "I found this when I was looking through the storage chests, and I thought to come show you, but now that I see you have entertainment of your own " Faramir bowed his head once more, and went to turn.

"Faramir! You needn't leave. Don't let my cousins' bad manners send you running."

"Hoy!" Merry exclaimed, and Pippin echoed in the same breath: "Don't act as if you weren't about to have Sam go down on you in the mmph!" Pippin said no more than that, not when Merry's hand clamped down over his mouth.

"Cousin Frodo," Merry said instead, smiling wide. "Always the proper host."

Frodo was blushing again, and Sam looked hot under the collar, and Merry then looked at Frodo and said: "I think what Pippin was trying to say, is that he knows you both better than that, and that you are both just as bad."

Frodo turned his head and politely coughed, and Merry looked up at Faramir, then said, earnestly, "Entertainment, you said?"

Faramir nodded. "Yes. I could show it off, if you'd like"

"I would," Pippin said, squirming free, now smiling and far more relaxed.

"And you, Frodo?" Faramir asked.

Frodo managed a real smile, and he nodded. "Let us all sit down, and we can take a look. Would you like that, Sam?"

Sam nodded, slow at first, but then with sincerity, glad that the moment had passed, and he grinned. "I would as such, sir."

They did sit down, around the edges of the blanket that had been used for their picnic, and Faramir knelt at the far edge, setting a flat board with a out in front of him, a curious looking contraption with a flat spinner in the middle (at least, that was what it looked like), no thicker than a hobbit's finger, and thrice as long, surrounded by a small rainbow of colors, as well as faded shapes, and what seemed to be a bolt of white-colored cloth. Frodo spoke up first, though he wasn't the only one who was showing interest if he'd been in a seat, Pippin might just have fallen off of it trying to get a better look.

"What is it, Faramir?"

"A game," Faramir replied. "We call it 'tangled', here, though I wouldn't know if you've heard of it before well, when my brother and I were much younger, we'd play it, often with other sons of the higher guard captains. This is the spinner," he said, and Merry nodded, as he'd been correct in his assumptions. "These colors here," and he pointed them out, "correspond with colors on this sheet, and these shapes indicate what you need touch, what color, and what you touch it with." There was a hand and Merry realized after a moment of further thought something shaped like a foot in a knitted sock. "And what is the point of this game?" Merry ventured to ask.

"Basically, to have fun," Faramir grinned, then nodded. "See, you have one player designated as the spinner " he reached out, and gave it a flick, and it flashed with a black blur before it came to a slow stop, "and then, and I'm using this as an example, you'd then say "Left foot, red", and th? players would all then put there left foot on one of the red circles "

"What red circles?" Pippin asked.

"I was hoping you might ask," Faramir said. He moved the spinner, then took the long bolt, and started to roll it out not fully, but enough that they could see that there were four rows of colored circles, red, green, blue and yellow, and Pippin was the one who sat forward, fingers spread wide and trying to touch the edges of the circle.

"It doesn't seem too difficult," he then said. Turning, he looked at Merry. "I think I might want to play."

Merry smiled fondly. "You would, Pip. What do you think, Frodo?"

Frodo made a thoughtful noise, then leaned in close to Sam, and said something that not a one of them could hear. Sam colored softly, but then he cleared his throat, and he looked at Faramir. "It does look like a physical sort of game, so I'm thinking it best that my Mister Frodo sit it out," he said, and Frodo protested right away.

"Now Sam," he said, "there isn't reason for that."

"Now, sir, don't you think it'd be best if you sat back and gave it all a good look? You always have been fond of watching." Frodo's eyes widened and Pippin snickered and Faramir sat back, looking rather foolish, while Sam flushed to the tips of his ears. "That isn't what I was meaning, and you know it," he said, and Merry reached out and clapped him on the shoulder.

"But it is, Sam, and I'm sure you do."

Merry sat back, and Frodo then said: "Very well, I suppose that I am now the designated spinner. Does that hold with you, Faramir?"

"Well, I hadn't expected, but I won't "

"How exactly do you win?"

"Pippin, Faramir was in the middle of speaking," Frodo chided. "But," and Frodo's expression turned sheepish, and he looked back at Faramir. "I suppose that it would be good if we did know."

Faramir chuckled. "True, it would. The point is to stay up, so the first who falls loses the round."

"And how many rounds are there?" Pippin asked. "Just waiting till you fall, well, that sounds rather well, unappealing. Are you sure there aren't any other aspects that you might be leaving out?"

Faramir chuckled once more, and he nodded. "Well, when we were a bit older, we added well, we never did name them, but the loser ended up having to drink a full mug of ale."

Pippin's eyes sparked. "Well, that doesn't sound so bad, but it doesn't sound too fair. Only the loser? What of the winners?"

Faramir seemed truly entertained but, Merry though, who could blame him. The easy feel that surrounded them was heady comfort, and he imagined that Faramir must have felt the same actually, he was quite sure that he did, and it gladdened his heart. "They could drink two."

"Mmm," Pippin sighed, then leaned against Merry's shoulder. "I rather do like the sound of that, I think." He played with Merry's collar, then said: "Have we any ale left from our luncheon, Merry?"

"No," Merry replied, tweaking the tip of Pippin's ear. "You drank the last."

"Oh, bugger," Pippin muttered. "And it was just beginning to sound like fun."

"Mind your language, Pippin," Frodo said, and Pippin made a rude noise at him, but sat up, and straightened his collar.

"Yes, cousin Frodo," he sweetly said, and smiled, then distraught, turned to Faramir. "Tell me that there's something more, my lord. We must make this game worthwhile, after all."

Faramir faintly colored, as if recalling something that he'd let himself forget, coupled with taking in Pippin's disheveled state of clothing and hair and knowing what had been the cause of it. But then Faramir grinned, bold and brave as Pippin has been, and he said: "Well, there came a time when we were older, and we aren't always just playing with each other, and we'd found other participants and then sometimes, the loser ended up having to take off all his clothes."

Pippin choked, jerking forward, and Merry laughed suddenly, then clapped him hard on the back. When the fit cleared, Pippin wiped laughing t?ars from his eyes, and then said: "Well, that seals it, then. We simply must play."

"Now Pippin," Frodo said, but then he shook his head, and sat back, grinning despite himself, perhaps in spite of Pippin. "It has been too long since you were last indulged. But all of your clothes? The game might go too quick. How about we only go half and then half; we'll get at least twice the game out of it, if we play it like that."

Pippin nodded stubbornly, though his green eyes were filled with mirth, and something that made Faramir squirm when he looked at him, but then his expression lightened, and Sam sighed, looking to the heavens.

"These Tooks and Brandybucks will be the end of us, sir."

"I rather like the thought of that, myself."

"And don't forget once you've got your hand or foot down, you just can't pick it up to make it easier to move. You really do get tangled with this one, I fear." Faramir chuckled.

"Worry not," Pippin grandly said, and then he stood. "We'll need more space, though," he continued, nodding to himself, and he rose first and merry followed. They picked up the blanket, and Pippin bundled it back up, and Faramir rose and, between the two of them, he and Merry stretched the sheet out until it was taut, and Pippin mused over what to use to hold it down. There were small rocks scattered in the underbrush, small but heavy, and more than enough to hold down the edges. While Faramir and Merry waited, he brought forward two at a time.

"I guess you'll be needing this, sir," Sam said, and handed over the spinner. He nodded at Frodo, and Frodo nodded back.

"I admit, it's been a while since I've done something so nonsensical as this."

Sam lightly touched his cheek, and smiled. "It'll do you good, I think."

Frodo nodded and grinned and Pippin grinned back at the both of them. "Well," he said. "I can only hope."

"You'll see," Sam said, hoping to the last. And why wouldn't he? True, Pippin thought, that this was the brightest that he could remember having seen Frodo though the summer, and there was hope in his heart, too, that Frodo would recover; they had call come through it, but he had always wondered if Frodo would follow after.

Now, he almost thought that he would.

"This is settled, then," Pippin says. "How do we start?"

Sam touched Frodo's hand, and smiled. "I suppose Mister Frodo needs to give the spinner a go."

"I'm supposing I do," Frodo said, laughing at something, shaking his head, and then giving the flat spinner a flick with his middle finger and Pippin could have been blind, but Frodo was careful of his right hand, as he ought to be.

The spinner flashed, and then it settled, and Frodo said: "Left foot, green."

"Faramir, you go first," Merry urged, and they all watched the Man settle down on the sheet, and Pippin crowed in delight and followed after. Faramir made a soft noise as Pippin settled beneath him, and Pippin beamed up at him, all shadows in the light with Faramir's hair falling down around his face.

"Hullo there, my lord."

Faramir laughed, and Merry and Sam took their places. "This doesn't seem like much at all," Merry said. They weren't touching yet, but then Frodo said that he was giving it another go, and he called out next: "Right hand, blue."

Bodies stretched and arms reached out, and hands settled. Merry was the one who had to further maneuver himself, finding Faramir's arm in the way, and Pippin almost thought it ironic that Merry would be the first to run into even the slightest bit of trouble. Merry laughed, though, quite merrily, and his hand touched the sphere.

"I've got it!"

Pippin chortled. "I'd not let you hear the end of it if you lost so soon."

"Left hand, red," Frodo then said. Now, this involved stretching out over an arm that was already stretched as far as it could go, and Pippin strained and touched the very far end of the sheet, his hand almost only just touching the red. He hadn't thought that this would be dif?icult, and now Merry snickered.

"Watch yourself, Pippin."

"Why don't you watch yourself, Merry," Pippin bit back. He stretched himself out a little further, and overhead, Faramir chuckled. Pippin felt that he was enclosed from all sides a tangle of hot limbs, and a hotter body pressed along his back, and Pippin was distinctly aware of the lines of Faramir's body. It seemed all at once that Pippin noticed that, and his arms gave out as he gave a cry and he was down on the sheet before he could think. Merry was laughing at him, and Pippin laughed, too, and somehow they all managed to untangle themselves, and Pippin sat up, grinning at them all.

"Shirt off first, or my trousers?"

"Your shirt, please, for the good of all," Sam said, and Merry chuckled. "We'd not want to run poor Lord Faramir off, and being just at the start of the game." Pippin rolled his eyes good-naturedly, looking from his cousins and Sam to Faramir, who had sat back and was looking back, eyes full and wide.

"There you have it, then," Pippin said, fingers tugging at buttons, and he shrugged the shirt back off. He only had a single moment of apprehension, though it was hardly long enough to even call it that. They all had their scars, after all, and if he could show them off to Merry, and to Frodo, and even to dear old Sam, then he could show them off to his Captain, too.

He neatly folded the shirt, and sat back down. "Second round, then."

"Indeed," Frodo lightly chuckled.

Pippin had kept thinking, and they kept at their play. A thought had come to him, and they the game seemed to go quicker after that, Pippin finding that it wasn't so difficult to lightly touch his leg sliding against Merry's as he stretched out, or when he pressed close to Sam, and the warm rumble of a startled groan as he sideways slid against Faramir. Merry's legs gave out beneath him, and they laughed as he collapsed, though he seemed little worse for wear. He gave Pippin a hard look, and Pippin smiled, looking right back at him. "Here, let me help you," he said fondly, sitting forward, untangling himself from a mass of legs and even a long arm. Merry rolled his eyes as Pippin set to the buttons of his long shirt, and Pippin gave him a light kiss on the curve of his jaw as he pushed the shirt off, untucking it from Merry's trousers.

"There now, all better."

"You'd think so, Pip," Merry commented dotingly.

"Yes," Pippin agreed. "I would."

Sam chuckled. "The two of you," he said, and Pippin nearly felt giddy. The day was warm and soft and he felt that he was learning all over and that there was still love and light in life, and that he could still feel flighty like a tween, and he could take his dearest friends with him. He looked at Frodo, who hadn't spoken for rather a long while. Pippin was sure that even Frodo was enjoying himself, and that was it that was important almost more important than anything else.

"Let's go again," he said, and Sam and Merry both agreed. "It's just starting to get fun."

Frodo chuckled, even, at that, and Faramir gravely nodded, though there was light in his eyes. "This will be something to remember," he said, and Pippin cheekily grinned, and nodded back at him, serious and sure.

"That it will. Not that I'd want to tell it to the grandchildren, but I know just what you mean."

Merry laughed at that, and Frodo flipped the spinner, and the soft sound of its whirring was enough for Pippin to stop and sit back. "Left foot, yellow," said Frodo, and they started again.

If Pippin had been faintly sure of something before, now it was even clearer, and if his touches and his light caresses had seemed unintentional before, he thought that even the most chaste of Men might now find that impossible to believe. He moved with intent, delighted at the feel of warmth all around, delighted in the sound of Faramir's defeat. When the Man was down on the ground, and Merry and Sam had moved clear, Pippin rolled over onto Faramir, so that he was clearly straddling ?is lower stomach, and he lightly thumped Faramir's shoulder, and grinned.

"Need a bit of help?"

Faramir chuckled, and then Pippin's world went head over heels for a moment, when Faramir sat up and he slid back, settling on Faramir's lap. "I'm sure I can manage it on my own," he said.

Pippin pressed his hands to Faramir's chest, hands too busy thinking with their own intent, cheeks too warm, and bugger if he would see what his cousins and Sam were thinking, when he was right here. "I'm not so sure."

Faramir's voice was warm and soft and it made Pippin shiver, his breath catching, and he took hold of the loose cloth of Faramir's shirt. "He isn't too used to being told no, is he?" he asked, and Pippin felt the world warm even further, and he almost did laugh.

"Not at all," Merry said, and Pippin made a rude noise back at him, but then Faramir touched Pippin's cheek, and Pippin looked back up at him. "Well, he is, but he's never been too good at heeding such warnings, I fear."

"They never have complained," Pippin said, almost sure but steady, and beaming. "So don't let them make you think that they have."

"It is true," Frodo said, and the warmth of the day truly was too warm, and too sweet. He set the game piece to the side, and he looked at Faramir, looked at Pippin as he loosened the fine looking shirt from Faramir's long trousers, the simple familiarity that Pippin lent to the situation. "We haven't yet, though he shouldn't always think himself so lucky."

Pippin made another soft noise, and Faramir just grinned slightly, as they worked the shirt off his broad shoulders. Pippin made a thoughtful noise, then, spread his fingers out wide and smiled rather smugly. Frodo settled down, and Pippin looked up, and Merry and Sam had both come closer, all of them rather curious. "I know I feel rather lucky," Faramir said, smiling foolishly. Frodo touched his arm.

"Just know if you'd like to stop well, Pippin isn't so unstoppable, just let me say, so you better mean it, if you say it."

Faramir chuckled Frodo was touching his arm, still, and he felt a warm rumble. He held to that, clung to it, desperate to keep feeling. He looked to Sam, who nodded, and moved closer. Sam's arms settled around him, and Frodo felt Sam's breath warming his neck. "Let's just get Faramir out these clothes," Pippin said. "And stop telling him such wretched stories about me, Frodo. Let him make his own decisions, why don't you?"

"Pippin is right, Frodo."

"Just don't go saying things like that too often, Mister Merry, as Master Pippin might get used to hearing them."

Delighted laughter, then, and Pippin made a sound of agreement. "Well, better not let it all go to my head," and the sort of movement that he made, grinding in Faramir's lap, and Faramir gasped softly. Pippin grinned, intent showing in his eyes.

"Let's see what else is under all of this."

Frodo moved forwards. Faramir's skin was warm under his hand, like sunlight, and it reminded him of Sam, for some reason, perhaps that Sam's skin seemed only properly warmed when in the light of the dazzling sun. Faramir seemed to dazzle, too, and Frodo smiled sheepishly at him, and Faramir went up on one elbow.

"Let us not tell the King of this, eh?"

Frodo's cheeks colored, and he nodded. "I think it would be best for us all if he didn't know of such proclivities, given the esteem in which I am regarded, so I agree."

"Don't you mean we, cousin?" Pippin said, grinning. He scooted forward and leaned up, and if Frodo might have answered that, he kissed Faramir firmly, and quite properly, right on the mouth. Faramir gave a start, but he let his hands slide over Pippin's upper arms, and Pippin sighed and Faramir settled back. They were lying in the grass, then, and Frodo pressed himself closer.

"Let us not tell the Queen, then, either," and Merry softly laughed, and Sam drew closer to Frodo, and a for a long while, no sound but that of shifting cloth, as it was removed, and?soft laughter, as a sensitive, or ticklish, spot was found, and Pippin's voice rising up, clearer at times, and soft, delighted moans, long deep kisses that only left want for more. It was knowing that you could reach out, and not tell who you were touching, to feeling such warmth, to know that you were being given even more than you could give.

It was feeling that he was alive, that he wasn't sure whose mouth that was, though it was sweet and hot, to feel that it couldn't possibly be blood in his veins, and that it was a miracle that he could still breathe.

Frodo felt it all, and as the fog cleared, that was Pippin's touch, light and quick but, when it settled, able to draw forth more than he'd have thought possible with such a light, sure touch; but he knew Pippin far better than that. It was Merry's touch, somewhat rougher, but smooth, still, at his thigh. It was feeling Sam's breath on his skin and Sam's kisses across his jaw, and it was knowing that that was Faramir, pressed as close. They were a veritable tangle, and Pippin laughed again, joyous, and Frodo's heart pounded, with want and hope and needing, and he was nearly blinded in the light.

"Hardly being fair," he groaned, throwing his head back, feeling that he was being reworked with soft, demanding touches, from his feet up to the very top of his head, and Faramir's mouth was soft, but the feel of his beard didn't scratch, as he thought it might, and it was gentle, ticklish even, too. A larger hand covered him, and the birdsong overhead was overridden by the sounds that Frodo knew came from his own mouth. He reached out, touching, feeling, pushing forward on a simple need to feel more. Quicker, more, faster, sooner.

Now. Blinding. Frodo felt his body on fire, but it was no pain that he felt, and his veins were now filled with that same light. The whole world seemed to glow, and Pippin's laugh was closer, softer, and Frodo thought that he could see stars burning brightly in the day.

"Now that was something," someone said, and Frodo found a mouth that he could kiss, felt hands moving slower against his skin, and he sank back into that welcome, familiar rhythm, for the moment wonderfully and truly feeling, and alive.

May it be enough. May it keep the dark at bay.

When they were through, and they could all still, Frodo wondered what Faramir might think, finding himself in the midst of such a pile, and someone touched his cheek, and Frodo turned saw Sam, who smiled and Frodo then kissed his palm. Settling back against Sam (was that Pippin's leg over his? Or Merry's? Either was too long to be Sam's, but not long enough to be Faramir's), and said right into Faramir's ear, though softly: "I must thank you, my friend."

"I think I should be the one thanking you, Frodo," and Faramir's hand slid over skin that was still deliciously hot, and he smiled brightly, though his eyes were dim. Frodo kissed him slowly, and Pippin made a noise of protest, but that was muffled, and Frodo imagined that Merry was putting his and his cousin's mouths both to good use.

"And the lot of your cousins, too, and even Sam."

"I suppose you won't be looking at us the same way again," Frodo said, his good hand tracing idle patterns on Faramir's thigh.

"No," Faramir said. "But it gladdens my heart, and I don't think that I'd want it any other way. I rather enjoyed myself. I hope you did too."

Frodo's laugh was warm, delighted, and Sam pressed against his back, whispering words of love against his ear. "I did. And, oh, I rather figured that out on my own." Soft laughter, and Frodo let his mouth find Faramir's, kissing him properly, long and slow and deep. Sam's hands were warm, and Sam's breath was steady. It had been a long time since Frodo had felt such a relaxed sort of peace.

The day seemed that it was cooling as it lengthened, and they rested for a long while in a tangle, bodies cooling, as well, against one another, almost in and pressed too close. They would rise soon, of course they would, and they would fin? there clothing and Frodo was somehow certain that Pippin would make it known that he was hungry, but for the moment, all was still and peaceful, and Sam's breath tickled his ear as he breathed on it, and Frodo realized that even Sam had fallen asleep.

Time enough for thought, afterwards, and Frodo knew that this was almost better than if they hadn't been interrupted at all. He closed his eyes, and rested for a while, dropping off gently into sleep.

That night, after supper, Pippin will turn and say, offhanded like he hadn't been thinking of it at all, that that really was quite nice, and I hope you think so too. Do you think that Lord Faramir might want another go?, and Frodo will laugh and say, insatiable, and Merry will be the one who's laughing, then, as Sam says and you'll not have a one of us any other way.