By: Dana
Summary: Sammie sits and wonders and Peony sits and talks.
Characters: Sammie, Peony, Del
Pairings: None
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Author's Notes: More angsty fluff.
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.
This is fanfic based on another fanfic: Mary Borsellino (original fic series, Pretty Good Year)

Sammie rubs at his cheek and yawns. Peony tilts her head and pushes a braid back over her shoulder. "Hullo there, Sammie," she says, long having noted the dark shadows under Sammie's eyes. He gives a nervous twitch and turns so he can see her. He grins, then shaking his head.

"I didn't see you there, Peony."

And Peony, crouching down with the azaleas blooming right at her left, bright red and pink, laughs and nods. "I'd noticed that."

He rubs at his cheek and sits back. He's under the shadow of a big tree (ash or birch, Peony thinks), and turns his gaze back at his brothers and sisters, playing in the field. Daisy laughs and shouts something, and Sammie laughs.

"Is something wrong?" Peony asks.

"I'm glad you came. I know how bothersome Del can be, and I didn't want her to keep you away."

"She's not bothersome," Peony grins and Sammie's expression turns exasperated. "Really, Sammie, I mean it," and she sits down, stretches her legs out, her toes warm in the sun.

And it's quiet, but for the rustle of leaf and grass and high pitched laughter from the field. Hamfast catches the ball and throws it back at littler Primrose. And Primrose shrieks with laughter and dodges to the left.

"I haven't been sleeping well," Sammie says and Peony, tilting her gaze, and her eyes are saying that she already knew that because it's obvious and Sammie wears a tired grin.

"But that's obvious."

Peony quirks her lips and plucks at a blade of grass. "It is."

"I don't know what it is," and he turns, again, watching the play. "I mean, I think I do, but it never has bothered me this much. It feels kind of odd, I guess. I just can't sleep and I should but I can't and I come back full circle. I just have these dreams, Peony, and they're hard to explain"

It strikes her that he shouldn't be this open with her but he is and she shouldn't be here anyway, but she is. Sammie sighs and shakes his head, lowering his gaze. His hair is matte in the shadows, sucking in the light. Peony arches an eyebrow in confusion.

"I don't see what's wrong."

He doesn't look up. "They hurt," he says, and his voice is pained. "They hurt and they didn't always and maybe I'd think about them a little but that was it. I was here and Daisy's not alone but now its worse and I keep thinking that I shouldn't even that I shouldn't be here at all."

The levity in his gaze has her believing that this isn't the first time that he's thought this maybe he's not always believed it so thoroughly but it's been there and she knows how it is because she's thought it herself.

"We're a set not just me and Daisy and I don't know what they'd do if I wasn't around. I mean, it's not like I'm the most important thing in their lives, but I worry, you know, and it's it's worse now, and it's harder, and I don't know what to do. And it's all right that you don't know what to say."

He's right, she doesn't, but she does put her hand on his shoulder and she opens her mouth. Del's voice cuts the air. "HEADS UP, LOON!" she shrieks and Peony's head whips forwards and her arms shoot up just in time to catch the ball that was hurtling her way. She's knocked back from where the ball impacted with her chest. (And did that ever that hurt.)

"That was a good catch," Del laughs, grinning, nodding in appreciation as she comes over. "Aren't you two going to come and play?"

Peony picks herself up, and she looks at Sammie. There's a laugh stuck in his right eye, like it hasn't made it to his mouth yet, but the blue there sparkles and Peony feels something in the air lighten. And Sammie smiles because she thinks he feels it, too, and Peony can almost put it to words and Sammie looks like he's figuring out all over again what matters, in the most absurdist way that could be.

"I guess we will," Sammie says, and he rises up, and Peony follows after. She tosses the ball up and catches it and shoots Del a wicked, curved grin.

"I guess we will," she echoes, and Del takes two steps back.

"We're waiting," Del chirps, and her head ducks as Peony lets the ball loose. Laughing, Del turns and runs back into the field and all of that sunshine that's streaming down from the sky.

"Well, she is a bit bothersome, but even bothersome old Buzzards have their uses, I think."

Sammie is trying not to laugh. "I guess you have a point. But she's not really that bad."

"I guess you have a point."

He does laugh, then, and Peony does, too, and they run down to the field to join in the play.