By: Dana
Summary: Hobbits, and sleeping, in a place that isn't home.
Characters: Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, mention of Aragorn
Pairings: Frodo/Sam, Merry/Pippin
Rating: G
Warnings: (light) Slash
Author's Notes: Written for Catherine (as a replacement story) for the Lord of the Rings FPF Secret Santa; she wanted Frodo/Sam and Merry/Pippin, and this as a prompt: Bree; "These quarters are a bit cramped, aren't they?". Early quest fic is what followed, where-in I danced on book canon, and enjoyed the result.
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.

It wasn't as uncomfortable as it could have been, thought Frodo, lying stretched out on and bundled in his blanket with his feet facing toward the hearth; the fire had been built up nicely, and it crackled cheerfully in the otherwise quiet gloom, and Frodo could feel its heat where his toes peeked out.

"Are you sleeping yet, sir?" It sounded as though Sam was more than just half asleep, though he had whispered, and it seemed his eyes were shut. At his own back, Frodo could hear the soft rise and fall of his cousin's voices Merry's, clearer than Pippin's, and sharper, too, "Pippin, don't you dare kick!" and Sam yawned.

"Mostly, Sam," Frodo replied. "You should get your rest, as well."

It hadn't been said, but knowing Strider, they'd be out before day was even day. Knowing their given situation: in a locked and barred inn room, with an almost-stranger, leagues and leagues away from their homes.

Oh, what a miserable situation it was.

Sam's reply came, at last, rather soft and sated, thick and plump like a warm, feather pillow. Frodo found that he was drawn to that warmth, and so intent on pressing close to Sam beneath their joined covers that he didn't clearly hear what Sam had said.

"What was that, Sam?" he whispered back.

"Nothin' much, Mister Frodo." Sam yawned, though he then yawned again. "You ought to sleep."

Frodo tucked his head against Sam's shoulder, and Sam's right hand settled at Frodo's hip. Sam's voice rumbled softly at Frodo's ear, gentle like rainfall, or perhaps the flow of a stream, and Frodo closed his eyes, as Sam whispered and breathed. Sam's hand, with its broad, long fingers, was rubbing in small circles at Frodo's hip, warming through cloth down to skin.

Poor Sam, Frodo thought. You're almost furthest from your home, though admittedly the Tookland is further than our Hobbiton. Pippin seeks adventure, though, but you that you'd come with me and us being so far from anything and everything that you've ever known

Sam's voice stilled, as did Sam's hand.

"I'm meant to go with your, sir," Sam drowsed, "for as far as you might go."

Frodo couldn't tell if he was awake, or if he was sleeping, and dreaming, but he smiled, and suppressed a laugh. "Sam, you're a marvel," he whispered, awed, as he settled down to sleep.

Sam snored.

Merry was tired in truth, the evening had left him quite exhausted, a tired he could feel down deep in his bones but he wasn't so sure that he could sleep. Pippin was all but bundled up beneath his own blanket, his head bent so that his curls tickled against Merry's brow. Merry reached out, hand under cover of the blanket, and set it against Pippin's cheek. Pippin yawned, and stretched, his toes wiggling against Merry's shin. Merry bit back his laugh, and dropped his hand to pinch Pippin's side.

Pippin jerked, and Merry gasped, "Pippin, don't you dare kick!"

Pippin must have scowled at him, though Merry couldn't see clearly in the fire-lit dark.

"Merry," he whispered back, irritation clear, "I was asleep."

"You never did have problems when it came to sleeping away from home."

"Nor did you," Pippin replied, as softly, though he did press closer. "And we are a far ride away from our homes; have you developed such a problem, now?"

Merry felt a nervous sensation, not hot but not cold, creep over his skin, and he thought of darkness so black that he was certainly drowning beneath it, "These quarters are a bit cramped, aren't they?"

Pippin now sounded amused: "I wouldn't say so, Merry." He paused, as if he were thinking something over. Very lightly, he pressed his mouth to Merry's, then drew back, and Merry caught a flicker of firelight in Pippin's wide eyes, heard the sound of Frodo's voice as he spoke in low tones, at Pippin's back.

"Are you well? I hadn't thought to ask "

"I'm well as I could be, Pippin," Merry replied, and his fingers curled at Pippin's collar. "It was an odd thing, to be certain, but I don't remember it now, at least, not clearly at all."

"Good," Pippin said. The fire popped, and creaked.

Merry's fingers went further, curling in Pippin's collar, then, and he very softly pressed his mouth back against Pippin's. "I think I can sleep now, Pippin, at least if I give it a good try."

"Good," Pippin said, again, and he settled back against Merry, causing the blankets to shift and stir. "Good night, Merry," he said, and yawned, and was then very quickly asleep.

Merry closed his eyes, feeling very warm and safe. The darkness did not seem uncomfortable, or frightening, and Pippin wasn't the only one who snored.