Chapter Text
Lava swam around the two hobbits, threatening them with more than the simple heat radiating from it. As they looked at each other, they made a silent acknowledgment: they weren't going home. Sam wanted to cry as Frodo described the home they both missed so dearly. He couldn't tell if it was homesickness threatening tears or the relief of the weight lifted from his best friend. He decided whichever it was, he deserved to let go in these final moments. He let the tears fall, letting down every wall he had subconsciously put up since they left the Shire.
"If ever I was to marry someone," Sam started, and Frodo's heart ached. He knew how this sentence would finish, and he was far too weak to grin and bear it. Sam had made his interest in Rosie clear since the moment he saw her. Frodo had secretly, selfishly, hoped that their journey would have brought them closer; close enough for Sam to forget about whoever awaited him back home. But, even after all they've been through, it seems Rosie continues to be on his mind, and that thought hurts worse than any wound ever did.
"It would have been you." Frodo sat up incredibly quickly, whipping his head around to stare at Sam with wide blue eyes, praying with everything he had left that he hadn't misheard him. Sam looked tense, but everything in face was sincere. They sat there for a few moments of silence, waiting for the other to speak first, until Frodo couldn't wait anymore.
"But what about-"
"Rosie?" He heard Sam cut him off. Frodo gave a small nod, swallowing the lump in his throat. Sam tore his eyes from Frodo, almost embarrassed as he looked down at the hand propping him up.
"She was pretty, but you are intelligent and kind and brave and-" He faced Frodo again, who was fighting tears. Sam offered him a sincere smile, silently begging him not to cry. He's never been able to bear seeing Frodo cry. "It wasn't this adventure that lead me to that way of thinking."
Frodo's mind was racing with questions. How long had he thought that? Why had he expressed his fondness for Rosie so often? Why hadn't he said anything sooner? Didn't he see the way Frodo had looked at him for the past few years they've known each other? His body, however, seemed to know exactly what to do. He gingerly crawled to Sam, cupping his head in his hands. Sam looked up into his eyes, searching for ill intent; searching for rejection. When he found none, he raised his hand and pressed Frodo's palm against his cheek and leaned into his touch. At the acceptance of Frodo's touch, Frodo let out a small, content laugh as he wrapped his arms around Sam's neck, holding him in a tight embrace. Sam followed suit, wrapping his arms around Frodo's back and waist, pulling Frodo between his legs.
"I'm glad to be with you, Samwise Gamgee." Frodo whispered, trembling in Sam's arms. He couldn't tell if the pounding he was hearing was Sam's heart or his own. "Here at the end of all things."
Frodo pulled out of the hug, holding Sam's face once again as he pressed their foreheads together. Sam's eyes were swimming in Frodo's, whose eyes were fixed on Sam's lips; dry and cracked. Sam quickly took notice and subconsciously wetted them with a quick swipe of his tongue, his gaze drifting to Frodo's lips. Sam meant to ask permission, but Frodo closed the gap before he got the chance.
Sam felt Frodo's lips trembling against his and kissed him back softly in reassurance. Frodo's touch became more confident, and he gently pulled Sam's face closer to his own. Their lips slowly moved against each other, testing the waters and trying to convey words that would have to be left unsaid. They wished it could go on forever, but all too soon, Frodo went limp in Sam's arms, and Sam, as he so often did, followed him.