Title: TheyPairing: Merry/Pippin (who else?)
Rating: PG
Summary: "Stop giving me only half of you! It's worse than nothing at all!" Sequel to "What He Doesn't Know", and "What He Cannot Say."
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Notes: Pre-Quest.
Merry thinks too much. Pippin knows that Merry is the older one, and the responsible one, while Pippin gets all the fun of being the younger-and-decidedly-less-responsible one. He also knows that Merry is only responsible when compared to Pippin, which isn't saying much. Sometimes Merry has cares and worries that—well, aren't things that Pippin has to worry about. Not just yet. His future is planned out for him as the son of the Thain—as is Merry's as the future Master of Buckland—but it's still a few years off. So Pippin wonders what this new trouble could be, that furrows Merry's brow so often.
Pippin is too thoughtful. He always shares his problems with Merry—that's the way it's always been, and that's the way Merry like it. But lately, he seems to be struggling with something, and leaving Merry on the outside to wonder—and worry. He knows that Pippin may seem carefree, but that hides an overly inquisitive nature. He's spent years answering all types of questions for Pippin, from "Why do birds fly" to more embarrassing questions like "Where do babies come from?" He would never admit it, but answering Pippin's questions have made him more knowledgeable about the world they live in. He'd never stopped to wonder how birds fly before Pippin pointed at the sky. Pippin obviously has a question now, but remains silent. Which leaves Merry to wonder: what is a question that even Pippin won't ask?
They stayed up late, swapping stories (or "exaggerations", as Merry declared them) and laughing in each other's shoulders to muffle the sound. Pippin collapses against Merry, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.
"Oh, Merry, it's good to hear you laugh," he says without thinking. He can hear the beat of Merry's heart against his ear.
"What do you mean?"
Pippin sat up slowly. "Just that I haven't seen you laugh much, lately. That something's been on your mind." He sighs, looking at his hands. "Something you haven't shared with me."
Merry takes those hands in his own. "I could say the same about you, Pippin."
Pippin frowns, meeting Merry's gaze. "Me?"
Merry nods. "I can tell you've been fretting about something, but you haven't said a word. I've been waiting, and…" he shrugs helplessly.
"Well, I've been waiting, too!" Pippin said heatedly.
"Waiting for what?"
"For you to say something."
Merry chews his lower lip thoughtfully. "What do you want me to say?"
That you love me. That you're in love with me. "Whatever's on your mind."
A sigh. "I don't think you want that, Pip."
Suddenly, everything breaks. He can't live the rest of his life walking between love and fear. He can't stand this wall that Merry's built around himself—it's all or nothing.
"Of course I want that, Merry! I want everything! I want you to talk to me, to tell me what's troubling you. I want your sorrows, and your triumphs—your doubts and your certainties. Stop giving me only half of you! It's worse than nothing at all!"
They stare at each other in awestruck silence. Not a sound to be heard.
Finally, Merry says in a small voice, "What more can I give you? What more do you want?"
"I want you to love me."
There. It was said, for better or worse.
They sat in silence for a time, hands clasped loosely. Just when Pippin thought that Merry would never speak, he cleared his throat.
Almost hesitantly, he said, "I didn't know the words. The right words to say."
Pippin squeezed his hands gently, encouraging him.
"I didn't want you to think—well, that you had to love me. That our being friends required you to love me."
Hope was dawning in his heart, as Merry continued to speak.
"I—I do love you—I'm in love with you—and I don't know if you feel the same, but you'd don't have to, Pippin, I just wanted you to know—"
It was everything he'd wanted. Words he'd never dreamed he'd hear.
Pippin's laugh was soft and sweet. He removed one of his hands from Merry's to reach up and gently stroke his face, the eyes wide with apprehension—and possibly hope. It was time to give Merry everything he wanted as well.
"You're a fool if you think I don't love you. If you think I'm not in love with you. And you're no fool, Meriadoc."
The realization on Merry's face—the pure joy—brought tears to Pippin's eyes.
"No, I'm no fool," Merry said softly. He smile was wide as he reached out to touch one of Pippin's curls. "Maybe I used to be, but not anymore."
"Fools in love," Pippin murmured. His answering smile was just as wide as he slipped his hand behind Merry's neck to pull him closer.
Just before their lips met, Merry whispered, "I didn't know—"
"And I couldn't say," was the reply against his lips, a precursor to a kiss.