It's about time! That's right, readers, a surprise short fic, from yours truly. Me. Nocato. Evil laugh, all! Muhahahaha!

Warning, boy-love. More… Sam-and-Frodo love. Love! Lovely lovely! Smiles! Joy! Most of all…. Man-love! (Well…. Hobbit-love…)

Love Tastes Like Blueberry
(S/F)
By Lord Nocato

It was a bright, sunny day, merry in summer, down in Hobbiton, the Shire. All around, children were playing under the bright, friendly rays of the sun.

Frodo looked out the round window, distracted from his writing. He eyed Bag End's front gate in anticipation. Nothing yet, but he could be patient. He dipped his quill in the inkwell and continued writing.

After a half-an-hour or so, Frodo heard the gate open softly, and looked up. Sam was coming, a basket full of perfectly round, freshly-picked blueberries in his arms. Frodo grinned and jumped up from his work, rushing over to open the front door for his servant and friend.

"Well, here they are, Mr. Frodo, grew quite nicely, if I do say so meself…" said Sam, smiling at Frodo, his face flushed from the heat of the outdoors.

"Oh, fantastic, Samwise! They look simply delightful- come, put them down, you look so worn out!" Frodo said, leading Sam into the kitchen. "What ever do you plan to do with them?" Sam looked at the basket, taking in the deep blue color of the berries. "Well," he said, "I was thinking… I was thinking of maybe makin' you some nice blueberry muffins, sir." Sam nodded, agreeing with himself.

"Muffins!" exclaimed Frodo, "Muffins... terrific!" He grabbed a blueberry and popped it in his mouth. "Mmm, I feel that these shall make some fantastic muffins, my dear Sam." He laughed.

"They might, if there's any left after you go after 'em!" Sam joked.

"Now," said Frodo, "surely you've picked enough for me to have a hand's full while you make up some batter…"

"Fine, fine, they're yours anyhow. But don't blame me if you end up with berry-less muffins!"

Sam began to mix flour, water, milk, and other ingredients busily into a large bowl, while Frodo watched intently, and occasionally eating a blueberry. He loved watching Sam. Watching Sam cook, tend the garden, scold the hobbit-lads for losing a ball in the rosebushes… it gave Frodo a warm feeling that he couldn't understand.

He ended up daydreaming while he observed Sam's golden hair shimmer in the light of the sun through the window. He watched the sparkles of Sam's curly locks as he popped about the kitchen, getting a spoon, coming back, stirring the batter...

He looked now at Sam's hands, he had such big hands… rough, work-hardened hands, but gentle as a fawn when necessary, now dyed a purplish hue from the blueberry harvest earlier that day.

Frodo snapped from his peaceful reverie to glance out the window once again. He saw the outside world growing darker; the sun was beginning to set. He looked back at Sam and realized that he was now cleaning up the kitchen, sweeping flour off the counter, putting the basket that had held the blueberries back into the cupboard where it had been that morning.

The muffins were in the oven, beginning to bake. When Sam finished cleaning and tidying, he plopped down beside Frodo, tiredly. Frodo looked up at him; he had been half-consciously gawking at the counter. He looked into Sam's big brown eyes, and found himself holding his breath. Sam blushed suddenly.

"Something wrong, Mr. Frodo?" he asked. Frodo regained his composure, shaking his head.

"Oh, no, nothing's wrong, Sam. Everything is… right. Thank you for working so hard! Go, off to the living room. Sit on the sofa, take a break, you're exhausted, I see." He pushed Sam gently off in the direction of the living room. Sam sighed.

"I suppose I will, sir, okay, okay…" said Sam, smiling gratefully at Frodo. He left, and Frodo looked at the remaining blueberries, which Sam had put in front of him. It ended up they had too much, but Frodo didn't mind. He stuffed them in his mouth and ate them. The taste was blissful. They were perfectly ripe, so juicy, and so packed with flavor. He licked his teeth, savoring every last moment of the wonderful taste. His mind turned back to Sam, and he decided to go accompany him, so maybe they might talk while they waited for the muffins to bake.

He walked quietly into the living room to see Sam, asleep on the sofa, sitting up. Frodo smiled. Sam really WAS exhausted; he must have dozed off right when he sat! Frodo sat gently next to Sam and looked absent-mindedly into the hearth. The fireplace had burned timber and ashes in it. He imagined a fire burning, a big, roaring, gold… he realized his gaze had turned back to Sam; he was looking at his hair again. He looked up at the ceiling, then down at his toes, then at the arm of the sofa, then off into space……

Sam woke up, rubbed his eyes, and looked around. Next to him, Frodo was spacing out, off in some dream. Sam stared at him. Was Frodo even blinking? He stared for a few moments, and then poked Frodo gently in the shoulder. Frodo flinched and gasped, making him blink, startled out of his fantasy. "O-oh! Sam. Um, hi," said Frodo, trying to piece his reality back together. Sam cocked his head. "You wasn't blinking, Mr. Frodo, sir, I couldn't help but worry. What were you thinkin' 'bout?" Frodo looked at Sam's eyes again, feeling himself get lost in the brown-ness…

Sam watched as Frodo's eyes seemed to go in and out of focus, and then looked right into his. Sam felt like Frodo was gazing into his mind and into the inner depths of his soul. He shivered, and turned so his body was facing Frodo. "Mr. Frodo?" he asked. Frodo closed his eyes, and collapsed into Sam's lap, resting his head on his chest. Sam blushed, and looked down at Frodo's curly brown hair, and seeing his pale face beneath his bangs.

Sam didn't know what to do. Had Frodo fainted? Or, perhaps, was he doing this on purpose? No, no, it couldn't be…

Sam's heartbeat sped up, and he began to feel rather warm. Suddenly, Frodo stirred. He pulled himself up on Sam so that their faces were next to each other's. He glanced sideways. "This is what I was thinkin' 'bout," he whispered, and kissed Sam.

How long they stayed like that, they could not tell. But eventually, Frodo pulled himself away, and slid off of Sam, and the sofa altogether, plopping on the floor. Sam's face could not have possibly gotten redder. He sat, leaned back, frozen in the same position, blinking stupidly, trying to regain his composure. He thought it over. Frodo's kiss surprised him, and utterly confused him out of his natural hobbit senses. He looked down at where Frodo sat on the floor. He thought about Frodo, he thought about… how he tasted. His mouth, it tasted like…

Blueberries.

Sam jumped from his seat. "The muffins!" he said, startling Frodo. "They oughtta be done, now," he said, grinning at Frodo. Frodo smiled sweetly up at him. "Of course! Indeed! Let us go and take them out, then." He replied.

They walked off to the kitchen, where Sam took the fresh-baked, golden-brown muffins out of the oven and placed them gently on the countertop. Frodo watched steam rise off their surfaces, then looked at the perfect shapes and the cute, wrinkly blueberries that were evenly mixed into the mushroom-like dainties.

Sam looked at his success with pride. He glanced up to see Frodo's face, and noticed him looking lovingly at the muffins. "Delightful…" Frodo murmured. He peered up at Sam. "Oh, poo," he said, "do I ever despise having to be patient still! They're hot, presumably…" Frodo sighed. Sam blushed, thinking 'I know what we could do to pass the time…', though figuring that the kiss was a one-time, meaningless thing. He sighed as well, and placing one elbow on the counter, holding up his head with that hand, started to draw circles, boredly, on the counter.

Frodo peered over at Sam. He couldn't believe what he had done. It was so rare that he was "aggressive", and his head was spinning at the shock that he had actually kissed Samwise, his servant, his gardener… and that he wanted to do it again. Not to mention that Sam was twelve years younger than him; would that be inappropriate? He ran over several other thoughts before he realized he was staring straight at Sam; and that Sam was staring back. Frodo blushed and looked back at the muffins, but he could still feel Sam's heavy gaze on him. He had been so aggressive earliar, but now he was so shy, so embarrassed…

"Sam…" Frodo started, but never got to say anything more. This time, Sam was the one being aggressive. He pulled Frodo over, onto his lap, and held him tightly to himself, delivering a deep, meaningful kiss…

The muffins sat, abandoned, on the counter. Time danced by, and the sun was risen again, by the time they were remembered about. The hobbits added them to their breakfast. They tasted scrumptious, they tasted like blueberry…

The End :3

Review, but keep all homophobia to yourself. Thanks!