Title:  Merry's Lesson in Teamwork 
Author: Ruby Nye 
Author's email: shmi@bantha.org 
Rating: NC-17 
Pairings: Frodo/Merry/Pippin 
Warnings: slash, slight angst 
Summary: Merry talks to his cousins, plays games, and experiences 
teamwork. 
Disclaimer: A benign avocational fabrication. 
 
                                                                     * 
 
"So, how goes the life of the heir to Brandy Hall?"  Frodo's very cheer 
felt like a slap; Merry hid his wince and returned the smile, but Frodo 
immediately fixed him with a keen gaze and grasped his shoulders. "Not so 
well, I see." 
 
Between pride and futility, Merry shook his head. "It's nothing," he said 
airily, but Frodo's grip only tightened. "Nothing, Merry? Your eyes don't 
say so. Sit down, and tell me." 
 
"You're bossy," Merry protested as he was firmly placed on the window 
seat; Frodo grinned for reply. "Yes, I am, Meriadoc. And you're going to 
tell me what is troubling my dear friend, a handsome, well-born tween 
hobbit with a half-dozen kissing-friends." 
 
The thought of kissing-friends hurt. "Not quite so many," Merry muttered, 
looking down at Frodo's dark red waistcoat, at the buttons shining in the 
thin winter sunlight. "Everard's not talking to me; neither is Dittany, 
doubtless because he told her." 
 
Frodo gently stroked Merry's shoulder. "Told her what, Merry?" 
 
Merry closed his eyes, wincing at the memory. "That I called him Pippin. 
At a, well, rather inopportune moment." 
 
"Oh." Frodo sucked in his breath, and his hand stilled for a moment before 
resuming. "Well. I could see how that might distress a hobbit. But then, 
they look a bit alike---" 
 
"They're nothing alike!" Merry stopped, shocked at his own vehemence; he 
cautiously glanced up to see Frodo suppressing a grin beneath an open, 
concerned expression. "I mean, well, oh, dash it all, Frodo, I think I've 
fallen in love with the lad." Merry dropped his head into his hands. 
 
"You've always loved him," came the expected reply, and Merry shook his 
head, hands and all. "Not like this. He's been my playmate since he was 
born, so when he asked I thought it'd be no different, playing tweens 
together. And it's been fun, well, you know how much fun." Merry didn't 
have to look up to know Frodo's grin had emerged onto his face. "But 
recently, since he grew that final inch, <i>everyone</i> sees him now, and 
he just shines with the attention. I hardly see him anymore. And I miss 
him so; I can't sleep, I can't eat, unless he's near. I'm a fool, aren't 
I?" 
 
"Merry." Frodo laid a hand over Merry's hand. "It took you long enough to 
see it." Stung, Merry looked up, but Frodo's gentle smile forestalled 
sharp words. "Have you said anything?" 
 
Merry shook his head forlornly. "What will I say? 'Pippin, now that you've 
come into your own as a tweenager and everyone from Brandy Hall to Great 
Smials wants you in their bed, I've realized that I can't live without you 
in mine'? I'll sound besotted, Frodo! I'll sound like a <i>lass</i>!" 
 
"You'll sound like you're in love with him, which you are." Frodo slid his 
hand beneath Merry's chin. "He loves you, Merry. He has since he was a 
babe who'd scream till his cousin held him." 
 
Merry smiled at the memory, but shook his head regardless. "He loves me as 
his cousin, who's always been there for him, who'll always be there 
whenever he returns to tell me of whichever lass or lad he's foot-fur over 
head-curls for now. That's how he loves me. I can't ask him to stop being 
a tween for me." 
 
"You're a tween, as well," Frodo pointed out; Merry rolled his eyes. "I 
won't be for much longer. I'll be thirty-one this birthday. Father 
reminded me that I need to marry soon." 
 
"Yes, Uncle Saradoc would say that." It was Frodo's turn to roll his eyes. 
"Soon, as in within the next ten years, Merry. I think you have a few more 
years left to you before you need to go a-courting for a wife. You might 
think about who's nearer whom you would court." Frodo's eyes sparkled 
wickedly; Merry heaved a sigh with all the wounded dignity he could 
muster, but Frodo merely regarded him with twinkling eyes and quirking 
lips, before asking, "Merry, what do <i>you</i> want? Do you want to begin 
pursuing a wife? Do you want Pippin to keep to you alone?" 
 
Merry shook his head vehemently at both questions. "Oh, no. I'm fond of 
lasses, but I haven't met any I want to bind myself to for the rest of my 
life, not yet. The only one I feel so about is Pippin, and, well, I can't 
wed him, can I?" They both laughed at that. "And Pippin is, well, Pippin. 
I couldn't ask him to stop making friends, nor would I, he has such joy of 
it, it's wonderful to watch. I just want...." Merry shook his head. "It's 
been three years and more, perhaps he's just wearying of me. He has the 
whole Shire before him, after all." 
 
"Merry." Frodo's voice was firm, his hand soft, both implacable. "Meriadoc 
Brandybuck, what do you want?" 
 
<i>Pippin</i>, Merry thought, and took a deep breath. "Pippin. To know 
that whomever else he flits off with he won't leave me, he'll always be my 
Pippin." 
 
Frodo nodded. "And what do you need, to know that?" 
 
"What do I need?" Merry considered this question with blank amazement. "I 
don't, well, I don't know." Frodo sighed, and pulled Merry into an 
embrace, kissing his brow as he had in years past to soothe a scrape or a 
scolding. "You might think on that, Merry. And you might think on whom it 
is that Pippin does return to, with all his tales and all his questions." 
Frodo stroked Merry's hair. "Rather as a teenaged lad with golden hair 
used to come to me." 
 
Merry nodded, rubbing his cheek on Frodo's weskit, smiling at the memory. 
"You told me once, Frodo, that one day I'd love someone beyond my peace. 
Thank you for the curse." 
 
Frodo laughed. "It was no more than you deserved, impossibly young and 
beautiful lad that you were." Merry laughed as well, pulling Frodo closer. 
"I suppose it was. I had no idea how cruel I was being." 
 
Frodo's arms tightened for a long moment, before he pushed Merry upright 
again. "You were very young, and only just beginning to understand. 
Pippin's not as young as you were." 
 
Merry considered that briefly. "Perhaps. At any rate. How are the 
residents of Bagshot Row?" 
 
Frodo laughed again. "You mean, how are Sam and Marigold. They're fine; 
Sam sends his greetings, and warns you to stay away from his little 
sister." Merry roared with laughter, and so neither of them heard soft 
footsteps edging away from the door of Frodo's guestroom. 
 
                                                                     * 
 
Merry butted the sitting-room door open with his hip, holding two full 
flasks of brandy aloft, and the assembled hobbits cheered. He stood 
laughing in the doorway, looking at a dozen cheerful tweens already 
arranged in a ring on the floor between the couches, lit by a warm fire 
and large candles all around the room, and had a sudden wistful thought 
that he'd miss such cheerful pursuits when he came of age. But then, did 
he have to leave them behind? Frodo sat amidst the tweens, laughing with 
Stel Bolger, and Frodo was well past his majority and the master of Bag 
End, though he didn't look any older than Merry. Of course, Bag End, 
lovely smial though it was, was hardly Brandy Hall... 
 
With a little shake, Merry pushed the melancholy away and strode into the 
room, waving the flasks over his head as his friends stretched their arms 
out to him and begged flirtatiously. He was here now, and young enough to 
play, and with two flasks of the second-best brandy in the Hall in his 
hands and thirteen pairs of eyes warm on him. 
 
Fourteen pairs. "Merry!" cried Pippin behind him, and Merry turned just in 
time to catch an armful of wriggling Took. "I'm glad I found you!" Pippin 
kissed Merry so meltingly he nearly dropped the bottles. The others hooted 
and cheered, but Merry hardly heard them beyond the blood pounding in his 
ears and Pippin's heart beating against his; he had to take a deep breath, 
eyes still closed, before he could retort, "me or my brandy?" 
 
Pippin snorted, kissed Merry's nose, and detached himself to sit down 
between Frodo and Freddy. "What are we playing?" 
 
"Squeak, Piggy," said Frodo authoritatively, and the others nodded and 
murmured agreement. Merry handed one flask off to Estella, who uncorked it 
and took a sturdy swig that made him raise his eyebrow; she returned his 
gaze with a head-toss and a giggle. "Don't get drunk," Freddy scolded, and 
she stuck her tongue out at him, and Merry laughed. 
 
Frodo glanced at Stel and Freddy, and, satisfied that the siblings 
wouldn't leap at each other, got to his feet, leaving Pippin as a buffer 
between them. "Pillow or no?" he asked the room, who shouted down the idea 
of the pillow as insufficiently friendly. "And the forfeit?" While drinks 
and kisses and undone garments were suggested, Merry found a seat between 
Aster and Ferdie. He would have sat in Frodo's place, but Pippin was 
cheerfully jabbering away at Freddy; though Merry knew that Freddy's 
kissing-friends were all lasses, he still felt a twinge. 
 
Aster provided a welcome distraction, with her apricot hair and her 
questions. "I don't think I know this game," she said, and Merry leaned 
just a bit close as he explained. "Squeak, Piggy, Squeak is a game where 
one hobbit is blindfolded and spun around so they forget which way is 
which, and then released to go sit in someone's lap. That's what the 
pillow would be for, but that'd be so distant, don't you think?" 
 
"Oh, I do," Aster murmured, leaning in, brown eyes ingenuously wide. "So," 
Merry continued, feeling warmer already, "the hobbit who was spun must 
guess whose lap they sit in, and the only clue they get is a squeal from 
the hobbit they're sitting on. If they can't guess in three tries, they 
must pay a forfeit. Either way, their piggy is the next one up." 
 
"Ah," said Aster, so close her breath brushed Merry's cheek. "What an 
interesting game. Maybe I'll end up in your lap?" 
 
"Maybe," Merry agreed, smiling charmingly; he was actually annoyed, and 
amused with himself for it, when Frodo clapped his hands for attention. 
"Here are the rules," Frodo said. "We won't be using a pillow." The tweens 
cheered, including Aster, and Pippin. "And the forfeit will be that the 
guesser must stand their piggy a drink, using a kiss." The cheers at 
<i>that</i> were deafening, though Garnet piped up, "What if you don't 
want them to kiss you?" Merry couldn't think of anyone in the room he 
wouldn't take a kiss from, but Frodo nodded. "Tap them gently on the cheek 
as a signal. Now. Who will go first?" 
 
"Merry!" Pippin shouted, and the others took up the cry. "Merry, Merry! 
It's his Hall!" He shook his head demurely, and Frodo grinned and reached 
down to pull him to his feet as Ferdie and Aster pushed on his back. A 
handkerchief bound round his eyes, he was spun till his head swam; hands 
out, staggering slightly, he stumbled amidst giggles and cheers till he 
touched a lace-covered shoulder and plumped himself down in the lass's lap 
as she giggled till he knew quite well who she was. "Squeak, Piggy!" he 
commanded anyway, leaning back against her soft bosom, resting his head on 
her shoulder, and she squeaked, brandy-scented breath washing pleasantly 
across his face, and giggled again. 
 
"I have no idea!" Merry proclaimed, and the lass shook with laughter as 
disbelieving comments were shouted from various corners of the room. "You 
know full well!" cried Pippin, and Merry laughed, insisting, "no idea"; 
the lass gently poked him in the ribs and squeaked again. "Aster?" he 
guessed, getting a giggle from the real Aster across the room and another 
poke from the lass. She squeaked longsufferingly, and Merry rolled his 
head on her shoulder so that she giggled fit to shake them both. "I must 
pay a forfeit," he declared, holding out his hand for the brandy, amid 
general whooping and hollering; the brandy burned sweetly in his mouth, 
but her kiss was hotter yet, even though she giggled into it so that a bit 
of brandy escaped to run down Merry's chin. She licked it away, and Merry 
grinned all the wider to hear Pippin huff just a bit, before he took his 
handkerchief off. "Estella!" Merry exclaimed as if shocked, and she 
laughed and poked him once more. 
 
Merry got up with her and spun her, and sat down beside Pippin, who gently 
punched him. "You knew," Pippin accused as they watched Stel wobble around 
the circle and settle on Rosemary, amidst a great deal of giggling from 
both lasses. 
 
"It's all in the game," Merry replied, and Pippin stuck out his tongue 
again, but leaned on his shoulder nevertheless. 
 
As might be expected, there were not very many correct guesses, and the 
brandy drained away as the laughter and staggering grew. Rosemary wobbled 
over to Ferdie, who picked Frodo, who picked Aster, who picked Pippin; she 
guessed, "Merry," and looked genuinely surprised when everyone laughed and 
told her no.  Flattered, Merry smiled to himself. 
 
While Aster blindfolded and spun Pippin, Merry got up on a whim to sit 
beside Frodo. Pippin turned in a crazy circle as if he were dancing, and, 
whirling and laughing, tumbled into Merry's lap. "I have no idea!" Pippin 
shouted, wriggling back against Merry; as he squealed Merry glanced 
sidelong at the laughing Frodo and wondered which of them Pippin had aimed 
for. 
 
Pippin kept squirming, till Merry's thoughts turned to whether he'd able 
to stand up afterwards. "Fatty?" Pippin cried improbably, and the other 
hobbits howled with laughter, Freddy himself falling over. Two more 
deliberately wrong guesses, and a great deal of maddening, blood-igniting 
wriggling later, and Merry thought Pippin well-revenged for the previous 
teasing with Estella, and wished he could keep him on his lap to hide what 
he'd accomplished. "I forfeit!" Pippin said cheerfully, and gave Merry an 
energetic brandy-sweet kiss, rocking him back so that he had to plant one 
hand behind himself to keep from falling over; Pippin wound an arm round 
his neck and pressed against him, writhing in his lap till Merry was so 
hard he could feel the weave of his smalls imprinting his hot skin. 
 
Then Pippin whipped off the handkerchief. "Merry!" he said in mock 
surprise, his cheeky grin heating Merry even more than the brandy, making 
Merry's arms ache to wind round him. Planting his hands on the rug, Merry 
growled, "yes, and if you didn't know I'm a bald toad." 
 
"It's your turn," replied Pippin cheerfully, and Merry closed his eyes 
against the sparkling green ones before him and imagined snow down his 
breeches as best he could in all this heat, before he let Pippin pull him 
to his feet and blindfold and spin him. Letting himself wobble without 
direction, Merry found himself in a very recognizable lap, due to the 
stoutness of the hobbit it belonged to. "Freddy," he said, and Freddy 
patted him on the shoulder. "Not going to kiss me?" he teased, and Merry 
cheerfully retorted, "I'm not in a skirt." 
 
So the game went on, amidst giggles and brandy-soaked kisses. Pippin 
leaned on Frodo's shoulder and flirted with Garnet; Merry watched him, and 
felt proud and just a little jealous of his blooming tweenager. Stel and 
Aster ended up on either side of Merry, and giggled at and patted him most 
warmingly and distractingly, at least until Aster's turn landed her in 
Freddy's lap. Freddy waved off his turn in favor of sitting with Aster, 
and Estella took it for her brother and twirled in the circle till she 
landed on Garnet. Fairly soon, the game wound down to seven giggling 
couples, two empty brandy-bottles, and Merry smiling at them all even 
though his own lap was empty. The brandy and kisses had warmed him enough 
that he only felt the smallest twinge at watching Frodo drape his legs 
over Pippin's lap and lean their foreheads together, whispering something 
that made Pippin giggle. Merry supposed he could have been cross, 
especially after what he'd confided to Frodo, but, well, he hadn't asked 
either of them to alter their ways, nor would he. Besides, they looked 
fetching together, dark curls tumbling into chestnut, blue eyes and green 
sparkling. 
 
A rap came to the door, and Merry rose to answer it, weaving only 
slightly. Mistress Woolyfoot the Assistant Housekeeper stood there, a 
lantern in her hand and a faintly disapproving look on her face. "Mr. 
Merry," she said, "Mistress Esmeralda sent me to see if your game might be 
done." 
 
Merry glanced over his shoulder at the giggling, chatting, kissing hobbits 
behind him. "I think so, Miz Woolyfoot," he told her. "And we'd best to 
bed, then, before my mother comes to shoo us off?" Mistress Woolyfoot 
smiled at Merry's astute reception of the hint, and hid a yawn behind her 
hand as  Merry clapped his hands and bid everyone goodnight, scooped up 
the empty brandy flasks and tucked them into his pockets, and set off for 
his room. 
 
Brandy Hall really was a lovely old place, Merry thought, fondly trailing 
his hand along a silk-smooth banister, admiring the glow of the wooden 
paneling in the light of the candles in their sconces. A lovely, large 
warren of a place, that one day would be his charge, and after him his 
son's, if he had one. Distant giggles and murmurs echoed behind him, but 
the halls faded to quiet as he let his feet carry him on a wandering route 
through the cavernous main dining hall and the dim hallways. The hallway 
that held Merry's and his parents' apartments also had rooms for some of 
his more frequently visiting kin; Merry went down to Pippin's and Frodo's 
rooms to check at their doors, but heard nothing at either. 
 
Shrugging, he returned to his room, finding the fire burned down to warm 
embers that gave a dim red light. Merry stripped off his weskit and shirt, 
tossing them over a chair; something made his ear twitch, and he paused, 
but he heard nothing but a soft pop from the fire. The breeches and smalls 
followed, and Merry went over to his bed, not really looking at it until 
he came close enough to notice that no pale nightshirt lay across it, and 
that it was very lumpy. Hadn't it been made? 
 
A curly head popped out from beneath the covers, and Merry jumped. "Hullo, 
Merry!" said Pippin, eyes and smile shining even in the dim red firelight. 
"Won't you get in?" 
 
"Pippin?" Merry stared stupidly, and Pippin fell sideways, laughing. "You 
should see your face! Come on, get in!" 
 
"I thought you were with Frodo," Merry replied, a little fuzzed by the 
brandy, as Pippin raised the quilt and held out a hand. "And how'd you get 
here before me?" Pippin merely grinned and pulled Merry onto him; Merry 
bumped noses with his favorite Took, and felt a sizzling thrill at the 
feel of bare slender hips between his knees, and forgot his questions as 
Pippin's sweet boyish mouth eagerly caught his. 
 
Then Merry jumped again, heart thudding into his throat, as a third hand 
slipped up his back. "Hullo, Merry," Frodo murmured in his ear as he 
gasped; Pippin laughed delightedly and pushed Merry over onto his back 
between them. "And how do you?" 
 
"Since my heart's not stopped from shock, I'm fine," Merry replied, more 
breathlessly than his dignity liked, as Pippin wound one of Merry's arms 
round his waist and Frodo took the other hand between his. "You two, did 
you----" 
 
"You were such the gracious host," said Frodo, eyes sparkling even in the 
dimness, "all set to go to bed alone." 
 
"It didn't seem fair," Pippin said, hooking a leg over Merry's. "So we 
came to wait for you. What took you so long?" 
 
Merry blinked, pressing his hand into Pippin's slender side, and tangling 
his fingers with Frodo's, and began to laugh for sheer delight. "You, you, 
both of you!" he sputtered, and they both laughed as Pippin splayed his 
fingers over Merry's heart and sucked on his eartip.  "You didn't think 
you're the only one who knows of teamwork?" Frodo murmured, warm breath 
over Merry's lips, and kissed him. 
 
Drowsy and tipsy and tucked between his favorite cousins, Merry relaxed 
like wax in warmth, his already fuzzy head going pleasantly light as Frodo 
gently and thoroughly kissed him and Pippin stroked and patted him with 
wonderfully wicked hands. Merry distantly wondered, as he sucked on 
Frodo's lower lip, where Frodo's hands had gotten to, till he felt his 
wrists pressed gently to the pillow beside his head. Reminded of a time 
when they'd tied Pippin up, Merry made a questioning noise, and Frodo 
answered with a chuckle and drew back to murmur, lips brushing Merry's 
cheek, "You lie here and enjoy us, Merry. See if you can tell whose hands 
from whose." 
 
"And no peeking," Pippin added into the ear he was licking, "or we'll 
blindfold you." 
 
Merry snorted; even so, unable to bestir his hazy mind to a retort, he 
obediently lay still, and Frodo and Pippin wriggled down into the bed, 
leaving him alone for a moment. Then they returned, two slender bodies 
pressed to his, four hands warmly stroking all over him, one mouth moving 
on his while the other pressed wet smacking kisses to his throat and 
chest. Merry moaned softly beneath the onslaught, almost stunned by the 
sheer <i>feel</i> of them both, till teeth pressing into his nipple made 
him jump, and he groaned and dragged his hands and mind back to his 
command. Sinking his fingers into curls and waves of hair, striving to 
picture the lips pressed to his, Merry concluded that Frodo was the one 
kissing him again, Pippin the one nipping and stroking along his chest. 
His mouth was released so his cheek could be kissed; he murmured, "Frodo," 
and was rewarded with a smile curving against his throat, then a slow 
rousing bite that tightened steadily till he was almost thrashing as he 
moaned and clutched at the curly head pressed to his neck. "Frodo!" he 
heard himself wail as the patch of skin throbbed exquisitely beneath sharp 
teeth; Pippin paused in his trail of kisses to laugh over Merry's navel, 
as Frodo said, "hmmm?" into Merry's neck, sucking on the bite, tongue 
rough, soft and wet on the tingling skin. 
 
"I guess you've guessed us," Pippin said with a giggle; Merry opened his 
mouth to somehow reply, but managed only a gasp. Frodo released the 
pulsing bite and blew coolingly over it before kissing a path up to 
Merry's ear as Pippin leaned over to trail his fingers along Merry's 
collarbone and kiss his trembling mouth.  <i>They know me too well</i>, 
Merry thought, amused at how easily they had him, as Pippin parted his 
lips with an eager tongue and Frodo nibbled along the shell of his ear; he 
was already so roused he shook, hard up against his belly, and his cousins 
had no mercy. He might have laughed into the kiss if he hadn't been 
moaning, as hands sank into his hair and curled round his arm; one hand 
trailed tingles down his spine and another stroked up along his inner 
thigh, gently pressing his legs apart, and he was indeed losing track of 
whose hands were whose, and found he hardly cared. 
 
The hand between his legs skittered along his flesh, fingertips pressing 
like kisses, until Frodo and Pippin pulled back a bit to admire their 
handiwork. "It would have been so very unfair," Pippin observed with 
satisfaction, stroking Merry's heaving chest, "to let you sleep alone." 
 
"What would you like?" Frodo whispered in Merry's ear, nuzzling his curls 
aside, his hand---it was surely Frodo's hand, Merry could now 
tell---pressing with slowly mounting firmness behind Merry's stones in a 
place that made him see bright stars in the red-tinged darkness. "Which of 
us would you like first?" 
 
Merry shook his head, gasping as clever fingers stroked him fore and aft 
of that wonderful pressure. Pippin, not to be outdone, curled his hand 
round Merry's prick, and there was no way he could have decided. "You," 
Merry choked out. "Both of you." 
 
"At once?" asked Frodo, lips to Merry's temple; Merry nodded, feeling 
Frodo's mouth against his sliding skin. "Oooh, this sounds fun," cooed 
Pippin. "I know just how we might do it, too." He tugged Merry towards 
him, rolling him onto his side; Frodo divined Pippin's plan and chuckled 
warmly, untucking himself from Merry's back to fumble with the nightstand. 
Merry folded his arms round Pippin as they kissed again; as he traced the 
muscles along Pippin's spine he hazily thought how it felt a little 
strange that it didn't feel strange to lie in their arms and let them take 
him. Pippin tilted his head back and he went with the motion, all but 
boneless under Pippin's hands; Merry was used to being the bossy one, the 
one who planned and thought and did, but tonight Frodo and Pippin had set 
everything, and he gave himself over into their hands. 
 
Frodo returned, leaning his brow against Merry's temple as he molded to 
his back. "Pippin, your hand," he murmured, and Pip stroked a hand up 
Merry's arm to reach Frodo's; Merry felt their fingers mesh and withdraw 
over his shoulder, before Pippin pressed closer, tangling their legs, and 
pushed their cocks together, wrapping a slippery hand round them both. The 
velvet-hard feel of it sent a rippling jolt through Merry, shaking him all 
over till Frodo's hand slid soothingly down along his side to curl round 
his hip. "Ready?" Frodo murmured in his ear between careful, deep breaths; 
Merry reached back to tug lightly at him, and Frodo gave a ragged-edged 
chuckle and pushed slowly. Pippin pulled his mouth from Merry's to kiss 
his cheek and chin as Merry sucked in a deep breath and willed himself to 
relax further yet. 
 
Merry didn't know if his eyes were open or shut; it didn't matter, as red 
flickered along the edges of his vision, as Frodo's breaths came in harsh 
puffs as he pressed in, so slowly Merry's body flared and eased around 
him, so patiently Merry nearly begged him to go faster, push harder; he 
teetered and tingled, so roused he was aching, almost unable to breathe, 
as Pippin lay uncharacteristically still, holding them both wrapped in a 
hot slick hand. "Oh," Merry groaned, feeling his spine arch, his head 
fetch up against Frodo's shoulder, as Frodo's breath rushed warm across 
his cheek. "Merry?" Frodo gasped, lips on his ear. "Pip?" 
 
"Please," Merry whimpered, and would have again, but he cried out instead 
as Pippin began to move, and Frodo began to move, and they kissed over him 
and kissed his hair and cheeks and throat as they  moved in unison, 
stroking him and filling him and him caught between feeling it all. 
"Merry," Frodo groaned, low in his throat, thrusting harder, flesh 
smacking; "Merry," Pippin wailed into his shoulder, pumping with both 
hands, tremors carrying down all his limbs. It was building already, 
between Pippin's fingers round him and hardness pulsing against his, 
between Frodo deep within him and murmuring in his ear, and Merry wanted 
his peak to come, wanted this never to end, struggled for an endless 
heartbeat before he let go and let it surge up to wrap him in wet flame 
and burst forth in seed and screams. 
 
His cousins had been waiting for him, and when he whiplashed and wailed 
between them Frodo pressed his brow to Merry's nape and cried out 
something liquid and unintelligible as his hand clenched on Merry's hip; 
Pippin gasped and laughed breathlessly and muffled his own cries against 
Merry's shoulder as he peaked. Four arms and four legs trembled and 
stroked and tightened round Merry as the fire flaring across his vision 
sank back again, pulling him down with it into warm darkness. 
 
. 
                                                                     * 
 
He realized he must have fallen asleep, and stirred, but lips brushed his 
cheek and "shhhhh" soothingly filled his ear, and limbs still embraced 
him; he smiled and breathed and he sank back down. 
 
                                                                     * 
 
The next Merry knew was warm light over his eyes, when it was shaded as 
lips pressed to his brow and the mattress moved. "Frodo," he murmured, as 
a hand brushed his cheek; Merry found himself on his back, Pippin wrapped 
round him, his head fuzzy and remotely aching. He heard the door shut, and 
contemplated opening his eyes, and decided not to. 
 
He was just dozing off again when Pippin stirred. "Hsst, Merry, are you 
awake?" 
 
"No," Merry replied, rolling over onto his side. Pippin went with him, 
tucking himself to Merry's back. "You should tell me when you're worried," 
he said in a low thoughtful voice that pushed Merry's eyes open. "Pippin?" 
Merry mumbled, twisting around. 
 
It was still early enough for the dawn light to be pink, catching the red 
in Pippin's chestnut hair and making his eyes even greener. Pippin propped 
his head on his arm and regarded Merry soberly. "You worried about if I 
might leave you, Merry," he said without preamble, "you worried about it 
to Frodo, but you never said anything to me. You really ought to have, you 
know." 
 
"What?" Merry blinked, trying to push the sleep-haze from his mind, A 
serious Pippin? Was this a dream? But his head dully ached from the 
brandy, not horribly but enough to tell him he was awake. 
 
Pippin laid his hand on Merry's chest, over his heart, which leapt as if 
to reach it. "Frodo didn't tell me, if you were wondering," he said, still 
serious. "But something's been wrong with you for awhile, and then I heard 
you talking to him, and knew what it was. You should have said something 
to me, Merry, so I could have told you." 
 
"Told me, Pippin?" Merry felt his mind slowly coming up to speed. Pippin 
had seen his worry? Pippin knew? 
 
"Told you I love you, you silly Brandybuck." Now Pippin did smile, 
brighter than the dawn outside. "I love you, Merry, don't you know that? 
It's great fun being a tween, but I'm not ever going to leave you, not for 
anyone." 
 
Confusion and relief and joy all mingled, crashing down onto Merry, 
buoying him up. "You love me, Pippin?" Pippin grinned, nodding 
encouragingly even as Merry gibbered, "but one day, we'll both have to 
wed, and---" 
 
"---and I'll stand at your wedding and cheer, and be sure to be friends 
with your wife, and you'll do the same at mine and for mine. Of course 
we'll marry one day, and of course we'll chase and be caught now. We're 
both tweenagers, and two of the handsomest lads in the Shire, it wouldn't 
be fair to deny everyone ourselves." Pippin's grin tilted cockily, and 
Merry couldn't help but grin back; then he gasped, just a little, as 
Pippin's hand slid up his throat and cheek into his hair, as Pippin's grin 
softened into a smile. "We both love others, but we both love each other. 
I'll always be your Pippin." 
 
"My Pippin." The words tasted like honey. "I love you." 
 
"I know, Merry. I love you, too." Pippin leaned over to kiss him, sweet as 
his words. Merry reached up and wound his arms round him, pulling Pippin 
down and rolling them over, filling his senses with his Took; Pippin 
giggled and wound his legs round Merry's waist and returned the kiss 
heartily. 
 
"And here I thought you'd be hung over." They hadn't even heard the door 
open. Merry tore his mouth from Pippin's to look up and see Frodo setting 
a full pitcher of water on the nightstand. "You will be, if you don't 
drink something. Did you have a nice talk?" 
 
"I did most of it," Pippin said, unwinding an arm to reach for a mugful of 
water. "Merry mostly gaped at me." 
 
"You usually do most of the talking," Frodo agreed, and Pippin stuck his 
tongue out at him. Merry rolled over to sit up and catch Frodo in an 
embrace tight enough to make him wheeze. "You two planned this," he 
accused lovingly, stopping Frodo's mouth with a kiss before he could 
reply, and Pippin's answering laugh was far warmer than the sunshine.