Title: Not Too Young M/P (5/6)   
Series:  Coming of Age
Author: Diamond (juweldom@yahoo.com )
Rating: R
Characters: Sam, Pippin, Frodo, Merry; pairings--M/P, implied:  F/M, S/P
Category:  Angst, Romance, Drama
Feedback:  Yes please--very new at this
Disclaimer:  Can I just have them all?  No really, all these characters are 
Tolkien's and I don't rightly know what he'd make of all this!  I do it all for 
love, not money.
Summary: Merry realizes that pushing away Pippin was the worst thing he 
could do.
Notes: Merry's perspective.   This should about complete the picture of 
what all happened at Sam's Coming of Age party.  And yes, there will be a 
part six to complete this series, in Pippin's viewpoint! Year is 1413 S.R., 
Frodo is 45, Sam is 33, Merry is 31 and Pippin is 23.  
 

Coming of Age Part 5:  "Not Too Young"
 
**Merry**
 
Merry thought he was going to die.
This was all his fault; his for not understanding, his for not watching over 
Pippin, and his for not claiming . . . no, that wasn't right.  His for not 
admitting the claim Pippin had on his heart.
 
Pippin glared at him, hating him, Merry was certain, for never had he seen 
Pippin's eyes this blazing a green before; it was like cold fire, piercing his 
heart and stealing his breath away.  He felt he must sit or faint. 
 
Frodo had just left for Sam, poor Sam who had obviously been distraught 
over his predicament, and who obviously had been the one used in this 
affair--Merry knew without the faintest whiff of a doubt that Pippin had 
coerced him, as only Pippin could.  Sam would never have contemplated 
such a thing, and certainly would never have instigated it with that rigid 
"class standing" his Gaffer had drilled into him.  A common past, Sam and 
he shared in having rather forceful fathers.  Merry knew too well about 
being drilled in behavior.  All that drilling had led exactly to this; to his 
pushing Pip away, to Pip's revenge on him.  He could almost hate his 
father.
"Pippin, can you please put something on?  I want to talk to you," Merry 
finally said, making his way towards the bed as it was the closest place for 
a seat and he wanted--needed--to be close to Pippin.
 
Pippin humphed, tossing aside the shirt on his lap so that Merry had to 
close his eyes or risk actions which at present would *not* be appropriate.  
How could he infuriate him and worry him and excite him at the same 
time?!  It was unbearable.  "I have nothing to say.  I haven't done anything 
wrong; Sam likes me and I like him and I wanted to see what it was like--
all your carrying on with the lasses.  I am *not* a child any more, Merry.  
This should prove it."  There came the sound from the wardrobe of 
rustling cloth, and Merry dared crack one eye open to find Pippin had 
donned his bathing robe and was now sitting on the opposite side of the 
bed, arms still crossed and legs splayed wide.  He stifled a groan.
 
Only twenty-three, Merry thought in horror, only twenty three and there 
were a good seven more years he could expect this sort of petulant sulky 
behavior.  Maybe he should just walk out, leave Pip alone for a good 2 or 
3 years and see if they were both a little more level-headed next time.  He 
knew he wouldn't.  Leaving Pippin would be like leaving his legs behind--
he'd never get anywhere without him.  "I never said you were a child, Pip.  
I said you were awfully young to be having such a relationship.  How can 
you know what you want?  I only said no because I didn't want to hurt 
you; because I didn't want to ruin our friendship.  I really care for you.  
You're going to be Thain one day.  You can't . . . we can't . . . " oh, it was 
no use--his tongue wouldn't say the words.  He was too busy looking at the 
slim curve of one thigh the bathrobe had slipped away from, up to the 
brown moppish curls falling in his face and the fullness of his lips--
fullness that could only have come from certain activities . . . this was 
*really* bad timing to be having this discussion.  Merry shifted in 
discomfort, fighting the urge to take Pip's discarded shirt and throw it over 
his own lap to conceal things.
 
*****
This had started not tonight but steadily over the last several months or 
so.  He had to admit he *had* been pushing Pip away and 'carrying on 
with the lasses'--it was the only way to satisfy urges he had no intention on 
satisfying with Pippin.  It also eased things with his family--especially his 
father, who had been ill at ease over all the time spent first with Frodo 
growing up, then with Pippin--and now of course *he* was most definitely 
growing up!  He didn't want to subject Pip to that kind of trouble in the 
family.  One time he thought he'd had it--his father had seen past the 
façade and read the truth behind his desires, one night after having been 
with Frodo . . . it had taken weeks for the bruises to heal.  He'd never told 
Frodo that.  He never would, either; his cousin was simply too fragile, too 
beautiful a thing to damage that way. 
 
Which was why he'd decided never to tell Pip about his feelings either, do 
anything it took to try and bend Pippin's interests elsewhere--him, he 
could handle the contempt and the lectures, even the beatings, but never 
Pip--Pip was dandelion fluff--so airy, floating free above the troubles of 
the earth, beautiful and wild as the wind.  Pippin was the child he never 
got to be, and he never wanted him to become bitter and cynical like him, 
or closed and evasive like Frodo.  He should always be the wonderful, 
funny, brazen Took.
 
At Sam's party, all Merry's plans had been laid to ruin.  They had both 
drank too much (especially Pip--it was only a few years now that he was 
old enough to drink at pubs to begin with), and after the failed attempt to 
get Sam to smoke a pipe filled with leaf gone to worms, they'd snuck out 
back to spy on Folco and Marigold kissing at the back of the inn, hoping 
to spoil their fun by either stealing Marigold's ribbons or pelting them with 
a well placed acorn--Pippin knew just how to aim his little slingshot to 
send a little stinger right at the tip of the ear or better yet right in the butt--
yet somehow seeing them kiss gave Pippin other ideas.  
 
"What do you think he sees in her, Merry?"  he whispered, his breath right 
at Merry's ear, sending a shiver down him and a tingling warmth to parts 
he'd just as soon not mention.  In his drunken state the young Took had his 
arms wrapped around him; they'd always been familiar, but as Pip grew 
into a more and more handsome hobbit, it was beginning to disturb Merry; 
gently he removed Pip's arms to his sides, though he couldn't help but rub 
them against the cold chill of the night.  
"He thinks she's pretty, perhaps, or she's a good kisser.  Kissing's nice," 
Merry whispered back, eyeing the ground for a good acorn or nut.  Pip had 
been asking more and more questions about this sort of thing lately, asking 
him everything he did with lasses, detail by detail.  One time he'd been 
rather drunk and actually let spill how a miss Daisy Chubb went down on 
him--oh, that had sparked a huge conversation he'd just as soon forget--
he'd been so hard describing it to Pippin (while imagining the young Took 
engaged in similar behavior) that he'd almost busted a button.  He hoped 
Pip would just let it be this time.
 
Of course, he didn't.  "Yeah, I think I'd like to try kissing, that and more . . 
. " Pip breathed, and looked hard at him in way that made his knees 
tremble and his belly fill with heat.  He couldn't possibly know what that 
look did to him; he was too young, too innocent.  Or so Merry had 
thought.
 
Merry laughed, shoving Pip in the chest to conceal his flustered state, then 
the two of them were forced to hide a moment as Folco and Marigold 
finished their little tryst and walked past.  Once they were gone, he asked, 
"Want me to go grab Fatty's sister for a nice long smooch?  I think I could 
get her to kiss you."  
 
Pippin stuck out a tongue.  "No, I don't want to kiss any girls."
 
This confirmed it--he was still at that 'girls are icky' stage.  Definitely too 
young, Merry thought, smirking as he tussled Pip's hair in way he had 
always liked.  But this time he yanked Merry's hand away.  Blinking, 
Merry saw he was giving him *that look* again.  His toes curled.
 
He was about to say something wise, something profound that older 
cousins imparted to their younger best mate, but before he could, Pippin 
asked in a husky voice, "What about lads, Merry?  Can two lads find 
pleasure in kissing?"  Merry opened his mouth to retort, but before he 
could, Pip grabbed him about the waist just as Folco had done to 
Marigold, and pressed in hard to rub his lips across Merry's, trying to 
mimic the other couple; he ground their hips together and Merry 
whimpered; he couldn't hide his state now, and it was a shock to realize he 
wasn't alone.  Pippin's erection felt huge against him; perhaps he was still 
used to the feel of his small arms around him when he was a wee lad; or 
perhaps he just didn't want to accept that Pippin and he were on equal 
footing now.  Either way, the feel of Pip against him was heady stuff, far 
worse than the ale; it was making every muscle tense up in expectation, 
sending flashes of pleasure along his extremities.  
 
Add to that the feel of Pippin's lips, so tentative he knew this was his first 
kiss, but so tender and natural he also knew he would make an incredible 
lover, and his will was all but in tatters.  He stood shock still as Pippin 
deepened the kiss and his body seemed to vibrate in need as Pip with his 
usual great daring gave a little lick between his lips, and it was all Merry 
could do not to moan and wrap his arms around his cousin and push him 
to the ground—suddenly he realized what they were doing—exactly what 
he had promised himself he would *never* . . . . he shoved Pippin away, 
gasping.  He shoved so hard Pip hit against the side of the tavern with a 
thump against the wood and was immediately sorry; but Pip glared in fury 
at him.
 
Or now that he thought about it, had it been hurt?
 
"No, Pip," he'd croaked out, backing away, something, anything to get 
away.  He wanted this so bad, but to be an experiment for Pip, like Frodo 
had been for him . . . he couldn't bear it.  Of course Pip would move on, 
probably right after tonight, in fact.  He was just safe territory, nothing 
more.  And his heart couldn't bear it; it would shatter into a thousand 
pieces the moment it was over.  Far better that it never begin.  "You don't 
want me; you just want a first time—I know; I've been there.  But take my 
advice—do it with a lass—you don't want this road; believe me, you 
don't.  You're too young."
 
"No, I'm not!  All right, I can think of another if you're not interested.  
Now at least I know it's possible—I bet everything you've told me *does* 
work whether it's a lass or a lad!"  Pippin turned on his heel and was 
walking away before Merry could say anything else, and though he was 
trying to smile, to brush everything off, Merry sensed he was hiding 
something, but he was still too flustered by the kiss to concentrate on it.  
All he knew was that Pippin was headed for trouble *again*.
 
"Pip, don't you do anything rash—please, I'm sorry—but this really isn't a 
good idea—"
 
"No worries, Merry!  I'll just have another ale and go home—forget this 
ever happened," Pippin turned and walked off, and Merry almost ran after 
him, but if he caught him, he knew how it would go.  He'd see those 
beautiful small lips and think of what they had felt like and lean in to learn 
more . . . he needed a distraction, a very big distraction, before he went to 
deal with Pip.  Estella.  They'd done a few things together; he liked her, 
she was pretty.  She'd do perfectly.  
 
It took very little coaxing on his part; she liked him even more than he 
liked her, and she was a lass who wasn't shy about what she wanted.  A 
quick dance, a murmured endearment or two, and they were out in the 
front behind a blackberry bush and she was urging his hands to her breasts 
and kissing him and for a moment—just a moment, he could put Pip out of 
his mind.  
 
Until he heard something—a grunt, a gasp.  Still kissing Estella, he peeked 
over in the direction of the inn.  
 
He saw Pip and Sam break apart—had they?  He wasn't positive, but it 
was obvious Pip had seen him—he glanced back even as Sam led him 
away, glaring at him, and now the hurt was obvious, and he recognized 
something—it was suddenly like looking in a mirror.  He had pushed Pip 
away, and hurt him—there *was* something there; it wasn't just an 
experiment.  
 
Now he couldn't follow for a much worse reason—Estella was urging him 
on, but he'd suddenly lost desire.  And it wasn't right.  He was using her.  
He respected her too much for that.  As gently as he could he broke away 
and murmured into her ear, "I'm so sorry, I cannot.  I like you, I really do, 
but I can't."
 
She looked at him with dark brown eyes, measuring him.  "You love 
someone else."  It was not a question, and thankfully it wasn't a challenge 
or an accusation either; merely an observation.  She caressed his cheek, 
smiling wistfully.  
 
"You're my good friend, Estella.  I can't do this to you.  You're right—sort 
of.  It's too hard to explain."
 
She sighed, using her hand on his check to tilt his chin down and kissed 
him again, lightly, testing.  He was tempted to keep going—she was a 
good kisser, after all, but no, it wasn't what he wanted.  He couldn't delude 
himself any longer.  She broke off this time, with another wistful smile, 
and playfully pinched his ear.  "You make me crazy, Brandybuck.  I love 
you, but I know you don't love me.  At least walk me inside then;  it'll 
make a few good rumors anyway, and I can bug the stuffing out of Fatty 
for a good month or so with it."  She grinned wickedly, so like him he had 
to laugh.
 
He walked her in, gave her a last friendly peck on the cheek, and found 
Frodo.  
 
He tried to hurry home with Frodo as fast as he was able—he didn't want 
to say what had happened between him and Pip and it seemed Frodo had 
concerns of his own—poor dear Frodo, there was something still between 
them; it would never go away entirely.  When Frodo asked if he'd hurt 
him, it was kind of a shock; again he thought of Pippin.  "Of course not, 
Frodo—we were just exploring—I knew that.  I'll admit I was a *little* 
jealous when you started talking about Sam, but only a little.  I can't even 
describe how strong my feelings are for Pip.  It scares me to my roots.  If 
anyone has the power to hurt me, he does.  I have to talk to him."  
*****
Now he finally got it.  Even if Pip didn't love him the same way, he 
shouldn't have pushed him away; he shouldn't have rejected him—Pip had 
wanted him to be his first, the same he had wanted Frodo . . . with a 
sickening knot in his stomach, Merry realized that by *not* doing 
anything, he'd probably just ruined their friendship.  
 
While Merry had been contemplating his words of the evening, Pip had 
used his chance to vent his feelings.  "Merry, you have *no* idea what I've 
been going through over the last year or so—you-you-don't know *how* 
many times I wanted to kiss you, or hold you, but you were always so 
quick to give me that awful childish pat on the head and grin and say 'Oh 
Pip, you fool', and then I'd watch you go off and fool around with another 
lass and I'd swallow my anger and try to pretend it didn't bug me because 
you're my best friend in the entire world and I can't—" he hiccupped on 
what sounded almost like a sob, but carried on ruthlessly, "I can't have you 
hating me, but now I've really done it and I'm sure you do and now Sam's 
got Frodo and I've got no one and I'm just tired and I want to go to sleep!  
So just . . . leave, ok?  Like I said earlier, just forget the whole thing 
happened."
 
Merry tried to think what to say to Pippin to make things right; at least 
make them better.  "I was wrong to push you away, Pip.  You're right.  I 
guess you're not too young."
 
Pip's voice was equal parts anger and misery.  "Just go away.  I don't want 
to talk any more."
 
Despair ate at the shields Merry had held up so long; he felt hot tears 
gather ready to fall and his chest was so tight he could scarcely breathe.  
He opened his mouth to plead with Pip, when a soft knock and Frodo's 
voice stopped him.  "Sorry to interrupt--I've got Sam here.  Are things . . . 
all right?"
 
Frodo and Sam peeked in the door, and it was all Merry could do not to 
run and bury his head in Frodo's arms—but he wasn't a young tweenie 
now; he was almost of age, and he must face his own trials.  He simply 
nodded at Frodo, then Sam was blurting out an apology to him, and he was 
glad he’d held back his urge; Frodo’s face positively glowed with a 
happiness he had *never* seen—oh—they had both declared their love; it 
was all that he had hoped for Frodo.  He smiled even through his tears and 
Frodo smiled back at him, worried, yes, and hurting for him, bless him, 
but he squashed down his pain and tried to look strong, for Frodo’s sake.  
He wasn’t going to ruin such happiness.  He’d already done more than his 
share tonight.
As Sam finished his apology he gave him a reassuring look and tried to 
muster up his voice.  "Thank you, Sam.  I--I don't hold you at fault for 
anything . . . I know Pip . . . I know how it can be with him."  
 
Frodo asked if they should join but with a look Merry stopped him and 
said no.  This was his bath he had prepared, and he would freeze in it.  
Frodo announced Sam and he would be in his room—the body language 
was for Pip, Merry realized, for he certainly knew what Frodo would be 
intending for Sam—it stung, a little, the blatant joy in them against his 
own bleeding emotions, but thankfully then they closed the door.  He 
glanced at Pip and blinked.  Pip had gone from defiant and angry to cowed 
and defeated.  That hurt more than the anger, more than anything else that 
had happened this awful night.  Merry rose and sat down close to him.  
The tears he could no longer keep back; two escaped as he raised a hand 
hesitantly to Pip’s curls, before drawing it back at the rage in his eyes.  
Merry choked on a sob.
 
Pip tilted his chin up in a ragged remnant of his defiance, blinking hard to 
smash away a tear, but it only clung to his long eyelashes instead.  "Why 
don't you want me?"  he asked in a whisper.
 
With a sob Merry threw his arms around Pip.  That he had done this, that 
he was the cause of so much pain was a worse torture than he could have 
dreamt up as punishment for himself; it simply wasn't to be borne.  "Please 
forgive me, Pip; I know it's all my fault.  I do want you; I did want you 
there at the party, but I didn't want you to become like me; I wanted a 
*normal* life for you.  I only want for you to be happy, and I just don't see 
how you can with someone like me.  I've been nothing but trouble since 
the day I was born."
 
Pip had stiffened when he first embraced him, but as he spoke he felt the 
tension melting away, and suddenly Pip was throwing his arms around 
him too and they were both crying and hugging and Pip was assuring him 
that if Merry was trouble then he was far worse trouble and trouble should 
stick together.  Merry debated saying the words her really longed to say—
he still didn't know if it was right.  He decided right be hanged; for once 
he was going to be honest and brave and not hide his feelings any more.  It 
hurt too much to hide; he had done it for far too long.
 
"I love you, Pip.  More than you'll ever know," he said into the great mass 
of Pippin's curls, holding him close.  It might be his only chance to do that 
again.
 
Pip squirmed in his arms, trying to escape and he bit back a cry, but it was 
only to pull away enough to look nose to nose with him, and he realized 
the green of Pippin's eyes had gone soft and muted, and the love he felt 
was mirrored there in every way.  "You do?"  Pip whispered, and the 
longing in his face instantly set parts of Merry to warming and firming.
 
Merry touched those lips that had kissed him, aching, wanting.  "I've 
always loved only you.  No matter who I was with, I was always thinking 
of you."
 
Pip looked down, and Merry had to kiss his wet eyelashes where they 
rested on his cheek.  "Then why . . . "
 
"Because I’m the real fool.  And because I figured you felt just friendship 
for me, nothing more."
 
Pip opened his eyes and Merry absolutely lost himself in them.  "No, 
Merry.  I've always loved you too.  Even before I knew what love was, I 
think.  But I more than love you.  I *want* you.  Is that terribly bad?"
 
Merry could not hide a cynical smile.  "I honestly don't know, Pip.  But I 
can tell you this.  I want you very badly too.  Very, *very* badly.  See?" 
and he took Pip's hand and placed it on his erection, fighting to keep his 
eyes open as Pip's eyes got very wide and his fingers did a little scouting 
out of the territory.  
 
Just the hint of a smile touched Pippin's face.  He blushed and bit his lip.  
"Do you think we could try the kissing thing again?"
 
For an answer, Merry melded their lips together.
 
***** 
TBC
*****