Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Note: Rated "R" to be safe. I know this is touchy subject matter. This story contains Frodo/Sam slash and male pregnancy. This is the first time I've tried MPREG, and believe me, it's interesting to write. I'm hoping to update every three days, as the story in its entirety is nearly complete. Enjoy, and PLEASE REVIEW!

Rain pounded on the windowpanes of Bag End. Frodo watched listlessly from the window as water coursed over the petals of the beautiful flowers Sam had planted in his garden earlier that spring. The sheets of rain obscuring Frodo's view; he sighed and moved away from the window.

Though a fire crackled merrily only a few feet away, Frodo felt cold. He wrapped himself in a blanket and settled down into a chair. As soon has he had begun to warm up, he was alerted by loud raps at the front door.

"Who would call on me in such weather?" Frodo mumbled to himself as he shuffled to the door. He threw the door open wide to find Sam, huddled against the building for some sort of shelter. He was soaked to the skin.

"Sam! Come in! Come in!" Frodo ushered Sam into to the house.

"Beggin' your pardon, Mr. Frodo. Barging in on you like this. Twas very rude of me," Sam looked at Frodo from under his drenched curls," But I was so very concerned about you, Sir. All alone in this huge house... Anything could have happened!"

Frodo gave him a warm smile, "My Sam, you need not fuss over me like this! I can assure you that I am perfectly fine here," Frodo looked down, "It can be lonely sometimes... but that is no reason for you to be gallivanting off in stormy weather!" Frodo smiled again, "Let us get you out of those wet clothes before you catch yourself a cold!"

Frodo took Sam's sopping jacket and hung it by the fire, and escorted Sam to Bilbo's old room to find him some clothes. Sam stood by silently, watching Frodo's every move. Frodo looked back at Sam, holding a pair of breeches and a shirt.

"This will suit you, My Sam. Now! Peel off those wet clothes and change. You look a fright!"

Sam clumsily tried to pull his shirt over his head. Unfortunately, the waterlogged fabric clung to his skin. He tugged this way and that, managing to entangle himself quite nicely.

Frodo let out a bright laugh and helped Sam out of his shirt. As Frodo got the last of the fabric over Sam's head, their eyes met. They lingered, Frodo with his arms trapped in the shirt around Sam's neck, Sam searching Frodo's eyes for what to do next.

Frodo cleared his throat and looked away. Taking Sam's shirt, he handed Sam a blanket and the dry clothes.

"Join me near the fire when you're ready." Frodo smiled softly at Sam as he left the room.

Quickly, Sam struggled out of the rest of his wet clothes and donned Bilbo's old ones. He draped the blanket over his shoulders and padded to meet Frodo.

Frodo was curled up in one of the Big People chairs that Bilbo had obtained for whenever he had Human or Elvish visitors. He was watching the fire, deep in what looked like troubled thoughts. His brow furrowed in concentration.

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam leaned into the room.

Frodo looked up, "Dear Sam, take a seat." Frodo motioned to a chair nearby. Sam took his seat and waited for Frodo to speak.

"Why did you come here this evening, My Sam. It was obviously dangerous."

"I'm concerned about you, Mr. Frodo. You haven't been the same since that nasty ring business."

"Would you be the same, Sam?" Frodo whispered hoarsely.

"I suppose no, Mr. Frodo," Sam fiddled with his hands, "But then, Sir, I don't think that I can stop looking after you as I did during that period of time. I love you, Sir, and it would kill me should anything ever happen to you."

Sam saw that Frodo was staring at him, wide-eyed. "Sam," Frodo choked, "My Sam, I don't know how I would have survived without you... You were my everything, my strength, my hope," Frodo took a moment to wipe a tear that was cascading down his cheek.

"It was what I was born to do, Mr. Frodo," Sam pulled his blanket more tightly around his shoulders and shivered.

Frodo shook himself out of his emotional state. He scooted over in his chair, making enough room for more than two tiny Hobbits. Sam quickly got the message and took his place next to Frodo. Frodo finagled the blankets so that they were safe and snug under many layers. He laid his head on Sam's shoulder.

"I love you too, Sam."

At that moment, Sam became very bold. He leaned and planted a soft kiss on Frodo's lips.

Frodo was surprised at first, but soon kissed back. It was everything either of them had ever wanted summed up in one moment.

The two Hobbits hesitantly broke apart. Their eyes met for the second time that night. This time they did not turn away. Their lips met again in another, more passionate kiss.

And so the night continued Frodo and Sam enjoyed the other's company to an extent not many friends have the pleasure of experiencing.

When all was said and done, Frodo found himself buried in Sam's embrace. Sam relished the feeling of his dear Mr. Frodo in his arms, and Frodo rested his cheek on Sam's chest, falling asleep to the to the sound of his heartbeats.