By: Dana
Summary: Merry and Pippin entertain Frodo at Crickhollow.
Characters: Merry, Pippin, Frodo
Pairings: Frodo/Merry/Pippin
Rating: PG/PG-13
Warnings: Gennish slash, suggestive comments and kisses (and more kisses, and then angsty thoughts)
Author's Notes: Posted for my month long Birthdaypalooza, August 2007.
Where Merry ends up thinking too much, Pippin is overly suggestive, and then not there, and Frodo is, as ever, himself. Set after Rosie and Sam have married, and Merry and Pippin have spirited Frodo away to Crickhollow, to keep him entertained while the newlyweds keep each other entertained.
I wanted to do more with this, but couldn't manage it. As I've been told, what I pulled off instead was a bit of fluffy angst – or angtsy fluff, whichever way you want to at it.
Thanks again to dreamflower02 for the beta.
Series Index: Roads Go On and Years Go By.
fanfic100 claim:
Prompt: Triangle (#42). Words: 700
65/100.
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.

'You're welcome here, you know,' Merry says – the house at Crickhollow had been Frodo's before it had been his and Pippin's, after all, and Merry wants Frodo to know (and tells him as much) that this is their way of saying – of impressing it upon him, as need be – that he is ever in their hearts, and in their lives.

'And in our bed, as long as you are willing,' Pippin says, and with such cheer, that Merry hardly feels it matters that such lightness is hardly a proper ending to his own deep talk. He looks sideways at Merry, then looks full-on at Frodo. 'Are you?' Frodo laughs, eyes bright for a moment, then shadowing to dark. 'I am, I think – no, I am.' Pippin smiles, ups and crosses the room, sits down and winds one arm about Frodo, drawing him up tight, and kissing his cheek. 'You've always made me so welcome,' he says, with such a thoughtfulness that makes Merry believe that Frodo's words must have some hidden meaning, though he can't guess at what.

'Ah, good,' Pippin says, though Frodo's the one who then kisses him, slow and deep as ever, and Merry feels such a stirring, at seeing them as such. Some things haven't changed, and Frodo and Pippin still are a striking sight. Then Frodo chuckles against Pippin's mouth, and Pippin draws back, grinning cheekily as he does.

'Merry'd say it's just physical reaction,' he says, brightly, looking down at Frodo. 'Myself, it's only that I miss you, your kiss, your touch.'

Merry groans, saying, 'Are you two quite finished yet?', though he of course hopes they're not.

'Not quite yet,' Frodo laughs: then Pippin kisses him, once more, and the light is bright and gold as summer, though it's only now spring. 'You're set on making me full welcome, I suppose,' he says, and he turns slightly, looks up, looks Merry eye to eye. Pippin has draped his arms about Frodo, cheek to cheek. Then, darkness again, in the sorrow of his smile – and he has smiled like that, too often, since their return. 'It's good of you to have me. Rose and Sam do need some time to themselves!'

'Well, I wouldn't want to get in the way of the newlyweds,' Pippin says brightly. 'And we do want to have you, Frodo, we do. Now, I'll go get us all something to drink!' One kiss on Frodo's cheek, and then one on Merry's, and Pippin goes from the room.

Frodo looks after him, emotions warring on his face. Then he sighs, softly, and shakes his head. 'You've got me here, finally. I thought it best to stay away. But you and Pippin know better, I think. Thank you, Merry – for not leaving me alone.'

'Well, you once went somewhere where we couldn't follow,' Merry says. 'I'll not have that happen again.'

And Frodo smiles, so Merry smiles in return. He wants this to be enough, that coming home is all that any of them needs. But he wants to keep Frodo close, at least all that he can – he knows Frodo will go back to Hobbiton, to Bag End. And Merry and Pippin have made themselves a place at Crickhollow, but that doesn't mean that Frodo has to leave them behind. So Merry smiles, reaches over, takes Frodo's hand, and kisses it – even as Frodo quirks one eyebrow at him, grinning.

It's that hand – Frodo's right hand. There's the stub of his ring-finger, skin worn rough through hard toil, but still as familiar as ever. Frodo's hand, no matter what else has changed. Merry lowers his gaze, bends his head over Frodo's hand, and falls into the silence of the moment. His own hands have changed, and he wonders if Frodo would notice that – so he folds both his hands around Frodo's, and keeps quiet for a moment longer.

'Merry,' Frodo says, though his voice seems far off, as far off as dream. 'Merry, stop acting the fool.'

But he's not – he's only holding on. He's not letting go, for letting go is too terrible a thing for Merry to allow: and this will have to be enough, at least for now.