"Where did you get these?" Frodo asks lazily, blinking up at the clouds with strawberry-stained lips and his collar open to the summer sun.

"I picked them," Merry says innocently, and hopes Sam doesn't wander by.

Frodo gives Merry a Look; and maybe Merry should be insulted by that, but right now he's more interested in deciding which would taste better, the strawberry juice on Frodo's mouth or the sunlight on his skin.

"You never do want to do any of the work," Frodo teases, and then Merry has to pin him to the cool earth and prove him wrong.