auntiemeesh | A late fic for Dana's birthday

I couldn't sleep so I thought I might as well put my time to good use.

danachan designated Aug 14 as Merry/Pippin day. Well, it's a bit past Aug 14, but here's my contribution. It's just a wee, G rated, slashyish tidbit, and completely unbetaed.

Brandy Hall, late summer 1410 S.R.

Merry lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling in frustration. It was no good, he'd never sleep like this. Throwing off the light blanket, he sat on the edge of the bed and turned up the wick in the bedside lamp. In the dim glow, he found his robe and pulled it on.

Leaving his room, he wandered almost by habit in the direction of the kitchen pantries, intent on a midnight raid. Maybe food would settle his thoughts and soothe the ache of emptiness and longing in his chest. Once he got to the kitchen, however, he realized that he had, for once, no interest in food. Making a cup of tea instead, he carried it to the small, private parlour that was set aside for his family's use.

The room was dark, everyone having gone to bed hours ago. He stirred up the fire and sat in a worn old armchair, feet propped on the edge of the hearthstones. It was ridiculous, he knew, moping and pining this way, but telling himself that didn't stop the missing, the feeling that all wasn't right in his world because of the missing.

It was strange, really. Just last year, Pippin had still been little more than a child; appealing, yes, but in the way a child is appealing. Something had changed this spring, however, and Merry no longer thought of Pippin as a child at all. He couldn't say whether it had been the inexpert flirting the lad had tried out on everyone under fifty this past visit, the newly sinuous way his body had moved when swimming and romping along the river, or the odd moments of thoughtfulness he'd caught Pippin in that had done it. Probably a combination of all those and more, accumulating without notice until some terminal point had been reached. Regardless, Merry had found himself unable to think of anything else for weeks now.

He found himself counting the days until his visit to Tuckborough, in just over a week, anticipating the trip with excitement and no small amount of dread. Excitement at the prospect of seeing Pippin again and dread because he'd come to a decision. He was going to tell Pippin how he felt.