By: Dana
Summary: Merry proclaims, loud despite the din of drunken song and raucous cheer, that this is just like that time, back at the Green Dragon...
Characters: Merry, Pippin
Pairings: Merry/Pippin
Rating: PG-13/R
Warnings: Light sexual content
Author's Notes: For Berry, with all my love, in hope that she has the very best birthday possible. ♥
This story is the fault of Hyel, too much sugar, and too little sleep.
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.

Merry proclaims, loud despite the din of drunken song and raucous cheer, that this is just like that time, back at the Green Dragon, when a perfectly pleasant evening had been interrupted by a visit from the youngest of the Sackville-Bagginses, and to escape the start of a much-unwanted scene, they'd pulled Frodo under the table, despite his protests against.

"Only," Merry says, then, and his breath is warm-soft and ale-coloured where it touches Pippin's cheek. Pippin giggles, ale coursing through his veins. Merry chuckles, and bumps his nose against Pippin's cheek. "I suppose it's not really the same."

The commotion of the gathered Men seems distant, where they have tucked themselves away, in the darkness beneath the long table. All about them, long legs, booted feet planted on the ground. Merry's hand touches Pippin's, and Pippin's touch the hard stone ground. They had been underfoot, but now they really are underfoot. "Not at all," Pippin says. "We've no Lotho, for one."

Momentary sobriety. "No Frodo, either."

Pippin pulls himself forward, and draws Merry close, pulling himself into Merry's lap. "Let's not think about that, eh? It was nice to see you smile."

Merry's eyes glaze over, and he smiles – that's his Merry's smile, all right – and he leans forward, not touching Pippin but for where he touches Pippin's mouth, as they kiss. "It was nice to see you. You." Merry snorts, helpless. Pippin grabs a hold of him, through a layer of clothing, and pinches Merry's flank.

Merry yelps. "Pip!"

Pippin giggles, drunken sound, and muffles it against Merry's shoulder. "Sorry," he says, helpless laughter shaking his shoulders.

"No sorry for you," Merry replies, and he slides his hands down to Pippin's waist, settling themselves at Pippin's hips. "You probably aren't properly apologetic, anyway Pip."

"How can you be properly apologetic?" Pippin asks, then kisses Merry's cheek.

Merry shrugs, and he kisses Pippin on the mouth. "Dunno, really." The sound of wood scraping on stone, and a chair is pulled out, and then pushed back in. He pulls at Pippin's shirt, untucking it, and tugs on one brace. Pippin makes a soft sound – but a good one – and presses closer, all but wrapping himself about Merry, then kissing him soundly on the lips.

"I think," he says, when he lets them both breathe. "I think," and then a grin, and a nod. "Yes."

Merry's brows quirk in amusement, and Pippin tugs at the fastened buttons of Merry's weskit, one by one, hand working down until yellow fabric falls over. He slides his hands underneath it, pressing closer to Merry as he does, his cheek against Merry's as he breathes in, sighing, his hands smoothing against linen and the skin that heats it from beneath.

Merry turns, mumbles something, and then a good. "You don't make much sense, Pip." Pippin mumbles something back at him, back arching slowly at the touch of Merry's hands – warm hands, that had slid up under his shirt, and mostly-soft fingertips that were now curving along the small of Pippin's back. His braces have been loosened, but when had that happened? Perhaps he shouldn't care.

"When have I ever?" Pippin asks, then kisses Merry's ear. He kisses Merry's jaw, then, and one hand toys with a button, the other hand sliding in through the hole that has been made, with two buttons undone. Pippin smoothes his hand over Merry's chest, feeling Merry as he breathes, and muscles flex and clench.

"Never often, at least," Merry, absently, gasps. "Oh, Pip. S'good to touch – "

Pippin muffles Merry's words in a kiss, swallowing the space that has been hovering between their mouths, pushing his tongue against Merry's, sucking the breath from Merry's lung. Merry clutches at him, and skin touches against skin. Still mostly clothed, Pippin latches himself in place, legs wrapped about Merry's waist. Merry groans, a reverberation against Pippin's tongue, as Pippin rocks himself back and then forward, where he sits in Merry's lap.

"Merry – " Pippin gasps, and he draws back – there is a moment, fleeting, wondering where he really is and what he's doing but Merry, Merry's hands and mouth and touch and scent, are driving him beyond the safe realm of sane thought. He has wanted too long, and they need this too much. They do – who knows what will happen? Who knows if this could be the last?

"Touch you," and the words come in a tumble, as Pippin slides back, heat building in his groin, and under his hands. "Want you to touch me. S'better that we finish this, wouldn't you say? At least we'd not go stumbling out from under the table, and have them wonder what's been about – much better, this is."

This time, his hands have been working on Merry's trousers. After a moment of endless thought, Merry's hands are working, too, on Pippin's trousers. Pippin hisses in triumph when he can reach beneath cloth, and touch Merry – Merry hisses, arching, and almost upsets Pippin from where he only half-sits in his lap. He wanted a touch, something in his mind shrieks. He wanted a touch.

Pippin's hand wraps about Merry – and Merry's hand claims Pippin – and they sit there, rocking with frantic need, hand on aching flesh, Pippin's mouth on Merry's, sucking in the sound of Merry's need. It would do them no good if they were to be heard.

The fire – it spills – against Merry's hand, and Pippin's cry is lost in Merry's voice. Their lips fall apart, but only for a moment. Pippin half-clutches at Merry, working him harder. The world blurs, and all sound dims. Merry's cry is like an echo of some other place. The air beneath the table is suddenly burning, and smells of sweat and ale.

Pippin sinks back, hand still on Merry, and breathes in air that is now stale. "Oh."

Merry looks at him, kisses him slowly. Pippin feels sensation prickling over his skin. "Oh, indeed."

"Much different than that one time, eh?" Pippin says.

Merry, breathless, laughs.