By: Dana
Summary: When you want something but you're not so sure of what it is.
Characters: Merry, Pippin, others
Pairings: Merry/Pippin
Rating: R
Warnings: Light sexual content.
Author's Notes: For Karine's birthday. Pre-quest get togethers are always such fun.
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's one of those days, where a tween would find it hard to know what to do with the time in between the ending of tea and the beginning of supper. The sky above stretched out, wide and too blue, and the clouds were sinking down into the west. And Pippin was one of those tweens, and he knew that if he was in Tuckborough and not outside of Bucklebury, then it wouldn't be hard at all to find something to do.

"Merry," he said, impatiently, leaning forward to stretch his legs out over the grass at the edge of the road. They were sitting just beyond the ferry. It seemed a waste of a day, to sit so still, when they could have been out climbing trees or running races; but it had been Merry that had decided to sit at the Causeway, and Pippin hadn't had a choice; sitting with Merry was at least better than doing nothing by himself.

"Merry," he said again, when Merry didn't answer.

But Merry looked up from where he sat forward, crouched at the edge of the road. "What is it, Pip?"

"I'm bored," Pippin replied, and that was obvious enough. "And it isn't hot enough for a swim, and I don't think that I could manage to eat another of your Mum's strawberry tarts. You need to find us something fun to do, Master Brandybuck. I am your guest, after all."

"You're only my guest because you've no one else to follow along."

Pippin scowled, raising his chin up, and Merry tweaked the pointy tip. Pippin attempted to look offended, and Merry simply grinned. "You certainly are acting queer today, cousin," he said, and then in a tone to prove that he had much better things to do than to sit at the edge of the Causeway with his older, boring, cousin, he finish with a flourish: "Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are too."

Pippin scowled and Merry sat back unruffled, hands on his knees, stretching his legs out in the grass. "I never knew you were quite so boring," said Pippin.

"Am not."

"Are too!"

Merry just grinned and looked off down the road, craning his neck. There was a dark smudge far back beyond what either of them could clearly see, and Pippin frowned as he sighed absently, just to hear something other than the sound of their breath and the soft laugh of the river. It was almost mocking, that sound. Even the river has something to do, and here I am, sitting like a fool.

Well, why don't you just leave, a little voice urged him.

He kindly told that voice to shut up, and Merry spoke up.

"I wonder who that could be," said Merry.

Pippin made to shield the glare of the sun and squinted his eyes. "I couldn't tell," he said after a moment of watching the distant smudge get imperceptibly not-so-distant. "But we'll know soon enough, wouldn't you say?"

Merry laughed and gave a sharp bob of his head in agreement, still watching the far-away blur, and made to shove at Pippin's shoulder. Pippin screwed up his face in annoyance. It would take more breath than he wanted to spare, however, to voice that irritation, so he let it go. He could almost taste it, then, dissolving into the comfortable heat of the early afternoon.

"Why don't we get back to the hall, Merry, and see if we can talk Sediroc into - Merry, aren't you listening to me at all?" Pippin frowned and lightly smacked his cousin's shoulder. Merry looked up, grinning sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Sorry, Pip." He jerked his head in the direction of the rider. "They're getting closer."

"Can you tell who it is yet?" Pippin replied, standing up and straining his eyes. He couldn't make out any features yet, but it really wouldn't be long. Merry was sitting still, and Pippin looked to him. "Well?"

"What do you think, Pippin?" Merry countered. "But I think that it might be Berilac, and maybe -"

"And maybe we can talk him into playing a game!" said Pippin. "After all, I'm sure he's had a hard ride. He'll need to relax, loosen up. And I have just the game in mind"

"Perhaps," Merry replied, and Pippin sat down beside him once again, stretching his legs out against the hard earth. He could have sighed, as Merry didn't sound interested at all in his game, but he could have tossed a clump of dirt as his cousin, and Merry likely wouldn't have noticed it at all. It was vaguely aggravating, and Pippin couldn't remember a time when he'd wanted Merry's attention quite this much. But then, he never had to try, before. Merry almost seemed different today, and Pippin didn't like the change.

"I hear that my Da had him ride up all the way to Budgeford, though I don't know why."

"Well, you know how grown ups are about their secrets," Pippin said with a wave of his hand. If Merry could tell that he was irritated, then he didn't say a word, chuckled instead.

"You know, I'm a grown up too."

"Almost," Pippin said with a flash of his eyes and a curve of his lips. "You've still a year left, Master Brandybuck, so don't go and rush to come of age."

"And why shouldn't I rush?"

Pippin's words almost faltered and being annoyed seemed rather silly, all of a sudden. He shrugged and looked off to the approaching rider, then shook his head. "Because I'll have to catch up with you, Merry lad. And I just don't think that I can run that fast."

"As if I could really leave you behind," Merry replied, with a grin, but the look in Pippin's eyes caused that expression to soften.

"Well, you will, and then your Da will have you running this way and that, and you won't have time for me, and who else will I go to sit for hours and hours at the side of the road? In that thought, who else will you get to sit with you for hours at the side of the road?" Pippin worried his lower lip, picking at blades of grass, twisting and plucking them before tying one long blade into a tight knot. "I'm serious, Merry. And acting so strange isn't helping my mood."

Merry laughed, bright enough to catch Pippin off guard, and caught Pippin by the shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. "You run faster than you think, Pippin. You'll catch me before I could ever get away."

Pippin grinned, but it still felt sad, flashing the white of his teeth, and reached out to grip Merry's shoulder, leaning close so they were sharing the same space. Oh, and maybe that was what was so different, and it's not he hadn't ever seen Merry up close before. But he was changed, the curve of those lips that Pippin felt he knew better than his own, and Pippin lost what he was going to say, and found something all together different instead.

"I think, Merry, you've given me an idea for something to do."

"Oh?" Merry's eyes were incredibly deep, sort of like the Brandywine when the sun was slipping down in the west, dark and inviting, and so very cool. Pippin bl nked and breathed in quick, then captured the moment again and grinned.

"Aye, cousin." Pippin nearly stumbled then, because there was a big difference in what he wanted, and what he had to say. "I I'll race you to the marker third down from the ferry." They were set out at fifty paces each, five up and five down from the ferry, and it was a race they'd ran before.

Merry grinned. "And what will I win?"

"Who's to say that you'll win?" Pippin replied then wet his lips. The moment felt heavy, like it was meant for more, but Pippin was suddenly walking on very thin ice, and it wasn't very fitting in the middle of July. He chose his words carefully, instead, even though a voice was nagging him, the back of his mind, and if he just leaned a bit forward, he felt he could taste, as well as see, just how much Merry had changed.

"But just incase, if you do"

"If I do?"

The proximity of their lips, and Merry's grin, was intoxicating, just like the strawberry tarts had been at tea, warm and fresh and flaky, too sweet, and Pippin breathed in and let that breath out in a soft puff, and never knew just how good Merry smelled. Like sun and the earth, crushed grass and berries, the river and the woods, as well. He was everything that made the Shire, the Shire, and Pippin felt like he was standing on the edge of a Merry that he hadn't ever seen, and he was going to fall.

He was scared by how much he wanted to just jump in.

"Well, we'll see to that then. Go!"

Pippin was up in a flash and Merry followed, and it wasn't hard at all to get lost in the feel of feet pounding against the turf, the warmth of the breeze as they raced, and the thump-thump beat of their hearts. And the rider came closer and closer until Merry and Pippin spilled to a stop on the grass at the road's edge, laughing, and Berilac reined his pony to a stop.

"I won," said Pippin, flat on his back.

"No, you daft Took, I won," Merry replied, on the verge of laughing.

"I have to agree with Merry, you know," said Berilac, and Pippin peered up, too tired to say anything more than a half-hearted Pft. Berilac laughed and slid off of the pony, coming over to crouch between the two prone hobbits.

"Well worded, Pip," Merry laughed. Then, to Berilac, he said: "I'm glad for your presence, then, cousin. Or else this wastrel would try and steal my prize."

"What have you won?" Berilac asked, offering Merry his arm. Merry waved it off and Berilac instead reached out to pull Pippin into a sitting position. Pippin exhaled with a huff as he righted himself, then gave a shrug.

"We never quite figured that out."

Berilac muttered something, his eyes flashing with amusement, then grinned. "What strange games you play."

"Oh, the strangest," replied Pippin, then gave Merry a poke in the side. His cousin grunted and rolled over, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun.

"We'll figure something out, I'm sure."

"No doubt about that."

They made their way into the courtyard of Brandy Hall, and Berilac steered towards the stables as Pippin decided that it was time to round up some of the cousins. "We ought to split up," he said. "We can cover more ground."

Merry nodded seriously. "A good idea."

They nodded and went their separate ways, and Pippin found Doderic and Ilberic, and when he found himself back in the front hall, it wasn't long 'til Merry appeared, with Sediroc and Adelric following behind. Outside, Berilac was finishing off an apple, and he nodded to the tweens as they exited out into the not-so-hot-as-before heat of the day. It hadn't taken Pippin breath at all to talk Berilac into playing his game. After that, Merry had followed in less than even that half-breath.

"I want to play a game of Dares," said Pippin, and there was a murmur of general consent. They went out to a copse of trees, close enough to the hall and mischief, but not to close so that they could easily be found. Dares was a fun enough game, when played with a large enough group; and seven was just right, not small, but not too big. It gave Pippin something else to think about, something that wasn't Merry.

And it was a good distraction, a pony race while sitting backwards, jumping off the stables and into the hay. And Berilac shed maturity long enough to run through the pen of Master Saradoc's prize bull.

And then it came down to Pippin. There was a tree by the river's edge, with a limb that stretched out over the water. It was steady enough, and Ilberic, slightly smaller, scrambled out first, tying a scrap of cloth to the very end. Pippin would have to climb out and reclaim it, without falling into the water. And thanks to Merry, he was more like a Brandybuck when it came to water. Pippin could remember a time when he shied away from the concept of swimming, and if it hadn't been for Merry, then he never would have learned. That was how it was, for a lot of thing, it seems. Merry was a bigger part of his life than Pippin had ever truly perceived.

But he needed to not think about Merry.

Pippin scampered up the trunk easy enough, and the limb out over the water slanted faintly as he started to edge his way out, his hands out to help hold his balance. Closer and closer he shuffled, crouching down as he neared the bright red cloth.

And it was then that Pippin looked back, noticed that Merry was watching him, from the corner of his eye, and he lost balance. "Woah!" he cried out, attempting to steady himself, but he couldn't regain his footing and his balance was gone. He slipped from the branch and hit the water with a great splash. Surfacing, Pippin sputtered about, floating.

On the shore, the lads were laughing, even Merry, and Pippin was caught off guard. He forgot to be mad, swimming to the shore and crawling up onto the ground, sopping wet.

Merry clapped him on the shoulder. "You almost made it."

Pippin forced a grin. "I almost did."

And they fell back into the game, and Pippin tried to forget.

It was time for supper after that, and the tweens and Berilac returned to the hall. Pippin was just damp enough for his mother to raise an eyebrow at the state of his clothes. He could only grin as he took his seat.

And it wasn't hard not to think about Merry, as they ate, because Pippin ate with as much fervor as any hobbit ought to. There was thick bread with warm butter and hot stew, potatoes and beans, and by the time that dessert was brought, Pippin thought that he might pop. He decided otherwise, though, for the sake of the sweet seedcake, what with it being his favourite. His stomach would just have to understand.

After supper, there was dancing and singing, and storytelling too. But Pippin found that not thinking about Merry was more tiresome than not, so he said good night early to his family, his Aunt and Uncle too, and stole off to his room.

He hadn't said good night to Merry, and he knew that even as he left the great hall, knew it even more as he made it to his room, closed the door behind him and went over to start a fire in the cold, grey hearth. It wasn't long 'til the room was warm again, and the red-orange glow of the fire caused the shadows to flicker and dance across the carpet, on the walls.

Pippin sat on the carpet before the fire, waiting.

By the time that Merry did arrive, because Pippin was certain that he would, he went from worried and tired, to alert and annoyed. And Merry's light tap upon the door did nothing for Pippin's mood, as he rose up and stalked over to the door.

"Took you long enough," Pippin frowned, the door thrown open.

Merry grinned, holding his hands out. "I'm very sorry, Pip, but Celly needed a dance partner, and I had to play the gentlehobbit."

Pippin's lips twitched into a grin, but he was still irritated. "Just playing the art, I see."

Merry laughed and Pippin grabbed his hand and pulled him into the room; it was Merry who closed the door behind them, and Pippin stomped back to the fire, sitting down with a huff. Merry rolled his eyes and exhaled deeply, following Pippin over and crouching down behind him, putting his arms around Pippin's shoulders.

"Now, now, why the long look?"

"Because you keep forgetting me, or overlooking, and when you do look, you make me feel funny," Pippin gritted out between clenched teeth, and had to try very hard to make himself believe that Merry's arms around him didn't feel good. Because they did and Pippin wanted to lean back, and then he was certain that he'd be able to feel Merry's breath, warm and sweet, against his skin.

"I am very sorry," said Merry. Pippin found the apology hard to believe.

"You are not," he replied, sighing deeply and squirming free of Merry's arms. He turned and sat back, felt the heat of the fire against his back. He set his hands on his knees, tried to steel his face into something that was half reproachful, and more than just annoyed. He felt that he just looked tired, instead, and he lowered his gaze.

"I'm sick," said Pippin, not sure if he should be hurt or annoyed; he settled on angry, another compromise. "I'm sick," he said again, "of being left behind, I'm sick of not understanding, and I'm sick of you looking at me like that, Merry, and having it mean nothing." Pippin shook his head again, hands balling into fists. "I'm tired."

"Oh, Pip," Merry replied, frowning. For a moment, Pippin thought that he would be chided and there wasn't anything he wanted less than that; so he lifted his gaze up, expectant, but Merry looked as concerned as he felt, all tangled up in something he couldn't completely understand.

Merry reached out, tucking an errant curl back behind Pippin's ear, and Pippin sighed so softly he wasn't sure of that breath at all. His fists were shaking and he lowered his eyes, suddenly unable to bear the intensity of Merry's eyes.

"What am I supposed to do with you, Pippin?"

"That's what I've been wondering," Pippin snapped, temper flaring. "You get so close, and you make me feel like my knees are going to just melt, and you make me want so much, and you smell so good and I imagine you must taste even better, but then you go and act like it's nothing, you fool! I wonder what I should do with you," he finished sullenly, and he did look into Merry's eyes, and maybe they were mirrors, because Pippin could see his own frustration there, but decidedly changed.

"You think I taste like what?"

"Uh," Pippin replied eloquently. "Well, better."

"And are you saying that I stink?" Merry responded, scooting close.

"Uh, well, no. It's just oh, Merry, I shouldn't feel like this, should I? Not for you. But I want you to kiss me and touch me and I want you to mmph -"

Merry had kissed him, and Pippin sucked his breath in quick, felt the hot wet touch of Merry's tongue slide against his own. He reached up and grabbed onto Merry's collar, and he felt Merry's touch, tentative, at the small of his back and the nape of his neck. Oh, and it was better, perfect, like a first-rate wine, and Pippin couldn't even find the words to describe the way that it made him feel. It was short-lived, and as Pippin closed his eyes the kiss ended.

"Oh, Merry."

"Like that?" Merry asked brushing his fingers through the soft curls at Pippin's neck.

"Oh. Oh. Yes." Pippin nodded fervently, feeling suddenly intoxicated, and he pushed his lips against Merry's again, needing another taste of that wine. It seemed impossible that it could be better, now, but it was, vastly improved in ways that Pippin couldn't have thought possible. And his fingers began to shake as he popped the buttons of Merry's shirt, and Merry's hands felt firm as they pulled at the back of Pippin's top, and his fingers were warm and tic lish against Pippin's back. Pippin gave a jerk, gasped into Merry's mouth, and Merry grinned against Pippin's lips.

"Better, better," Pippin whispered, and Merry traced the edge of his jaw softly, with the pad of his thumb. He was hesitant, and there were shadows in his eyes, and Pippin could taste something that must be guilt, and he pushed one hand against Merry's bare shoulder, and shook his head.

"Oh, no, please, don't! I-I please, no, Merry, don't look at me like that."

"Maybe this isn't the right I Pippin maybe it's not the right path for us. If we go down it, then there's no turning back"

"But it must be right," Pippin replied clearly, narrowing his eyes in frustration. "You can't kiss me, Merry, and then just turn me away. Because I know, Merry, and I'll never ever let you live it down."

"Oh, Pippin" Merry sighed, cupping Pippin's cheeks and resting his forehead against Pippin's. "You don't want this, you don't know what it is, I'm not even sure if I -"

"But you can't just kiss like that and you've been acting so strange, and I know oh, Merry, I know what I feel, and you don't dare tell me otherwise!" He caught Merry's hands and pressed kisses to his fingers, even as Merry groaned and tried to pull himself away. "Meriadoc Brandybuck, don't you dare go and break my heart," he said in a low whisper, and Merry's shoulders sagged a bit in resignation. Pippin sat forward, bright with sudden hope. "You won, Merry, remember your prize. Please, please, don't send me away."

"Oh, Pippin, what am I going to do with you?" Merry groaned, their hands tangling together. "This isn't just a decision you can make lightly, Pippin. We I mean Please don't think that I don't, Pip, because I do. Oh, I do, and I'd want to stay with you forever. But that's it," he continued, before Pippin could get a word in edgewise. "That's it, Pippin. There can't be forever. I have responsibilities to live up to, and your Da could be Thain one day, for all that we know. We can't Pip, we'll have to marry, and it's going to hurt. Can you could you?"

"Merry," Pippin replied, squeezing Merry's hands, leaning close. There were tears in Merry's eyes, and he breathed in deep and Pippin leaned in close. "Oh, Merry, let's just take what we have and worry about then, then. We've a long time to go, there's a long road before us, and we needn't -" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Let's just deal with now."

And it seemed to Pippin, that Merry agreed. Those thoughts were voiced a moment later, and Merry smiled faintly. "I can live with now, now, and we'll leave then, for later."

"Good," Pippin said, nuzzling Merry's lips. "Oh, Merry" he whispered, afraid to disturb the moment. There was so much he wanted, and that hope lodged itself in his throat, as though he would burst. "Stay 'til the morning?"

Merry nodded, holding his breath expectantly.

"I want you to make love to me," Pippin murmured, and then his lips twitched into an appreciative grin. "And then I will make love to you. And we will likely go blind from the force of it all."

Merry let his breath out, laughing abruptly, encircling Pippin with his arms and pulling him against his chest, tight. "We ought to have something to eat, then, Pip. We'll need the energy."

And Pippin could have laughed and cried, but he kissed Merry instead, and he decided that there was nothing quite as good, than the feel of when Merry kissed him, too.

Pippin decided that this was what he wanted, this was what he had been search of so long. It almost felt like it had meant to be there, all along. Well, for as long as Pippin could remember feeling like this, even if it was just at the back of his mind.

And so, sitting before the fire, drinking some of the Hall's finest, Pippin realised that he had loved Merry, in one way or another, for about as long as he could remember. And it just rolled into this, this need an this want, and it felt like the proper growth of emotion.

Maybe Merry loved him, just as much.

"A toast," and Merry's voice pulled him out of his thoughts, back into the drowsy heat of the room, and Merry was very close and Pippin wet his lips.

"To us?"

Merry thought on this, then nodded. "To us."

Their glasses clinked together, and they drank deep. And then Pippin leaned over to kiss Merry, tasted the brandy on his lips and in his mouth, and he felt like has drinking all over again. But it was deeper this time and he was careful to set his glass down. Merry had had to button his shirt up again when he had went out to bring back their drinks and their snacks, and Pippin made short work of those buttons, his fingers shaking. "Lie back," he told his cousin, and Merry did, and there was light dancing and leaping in his curls.

"Ah, yes," Pippin breathed out, expectant, and kissed Merry again. It gave his hands a chance to wander, to slide against Merry's chest, to push the shirt off and strip Merry free of it. The world felt very slow and Pippin decided that he could just feel, until the dawn came. No, but he wanted more.

He rubbed his hands over Merry's chest, and Merry gasped into his mouth, so Pippin tweaked his nipples and Merry gave a jerk. "Pip!" he hissed, and Pippin laughed. The mood was lightened and Pippin grinned, nipping at the crook of Merry's neck, causing him to arch against him.

"Yes, Merry?" he whispered, nuzzling his throat. Merry was crying out, softly, and Pippin continued to search out the sweetness of Merry's skin, with lips and tongue.

Merry really did taste better than what he had imagined.

He sucked at the point of his collarbone, at the hollow of his throat, on one dark nipple that had Merry crying out helplessly. And Pippin decided that he wanted more, then, hands scraping over Merry's side, one hand reaching down to rub the hardness in Merry's trousers.

"Pippin!" he hissed again, clawing hopelessly at Pippin's shoulders.

"Quiet, now," Pippin laughed a bit, light in his eyes. And there was light all over Merry as Pippin rubbed, slow at first, and Merry's breath hitched as Pippin slowly undid the fastening to those breeches, reached in to touch that velvet smooth heat.

Pippin almost cried out along with Merry.

"Pippin, Pippin," and Merry didn't seem to have anything else to save, shifting impatiently. "You're so dratted slow," he mumbled hotly and Pippin laughed again, nuzzling once again with his lips, finding that he liked the point behind Merry's left ear, where it was soft. Merry liked it too, and that deft hand moving on his erection, and Pippin was surprised when Merry was suddenly on top of him, and his eyes were very wide.

"Naked! Clothing. Off. Now."

Pippin nodded and Merry flopped to the side, panting hard, and Pippin's eyes were caught up with Merry's erection, as he fumbled with buttons and fastenings. It took too long to be naked, and Merry rubbed against him, then, and this was much better than it had been before.

"Um," Pippin mumbled, closing his eyes and Merry ground against him, almost frantic. And Merry was trying hard not to rush, and the friction was beyond delightful, better than anything that Pippin had ever felt (maybe even better than the simple pleasure of that kiss, but he just couldn't be sure), and Pippin moved against him, kissing and touching and needing. And Pippin felt it boiling up, ready to explode, and there were stars behind his eyes, stars brighter than anything he'd seen in the sky. When he cried out, releasing, he felt warmth, and then a breath and a ragged cry later, Merry's as well. And they lay their, panting hard, sucking in fresh air, and Merry pressed his nose against Pippin's damp curls.

This, now this was good.

"Merry?"

"Aye, Pip?" Merry replied, softly.

"I think we need a bath."

Merry laughed, drowsy. "Pippin, I hardly think I can walk afte that."

Pippin decided that Merry was right, but they ended up in the bed instead, though they took their time. Merry yawned and Pippin curled against him, pressing his face against Merry's shoulder.

"I like this."

"Thank you," Merry replied, sinking fast.

"Merry?"

"Yes?" Merry's voice was fainter.

"In the morning in the morning, I want"

"All right, Pip," Merry replied, kissing him slowly. He settled back, closed his eyes. "I want it too."

Merry fell asleep first, and Pippin followed soon after, thinking about now and not worrying about then.