By: Dana
Summary: Just a random winter's day.
Characters: Pippin, Merry
Pairings: Merry/Pippin
Rating: PG
Warnings: Slash
Author's Notes: Written as a mathom for my birthday. Pre-quest. A hundred and one thanks to Singe, for the beta. (Sorry, as well, to Singe, for having butchered it so well.)
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 and Pippin walked towards the river, their silence punctuated only by the crunch of snow beneath their feet.

There had been a storm the night before; and a good snow was something that any teen or tween in the Shire, and even some of the adults, couldn't and wouldn't let go to waste. It had been Pippin's idea to trek down to the river, and Merry knew that if given time, that Pippin's ideas often bore the promise of fruit. And it hadn't snowed quite this heavy, not in a long span of years. That in itself was reason enough to take advantage of the day. Still, there were other things that could have been suggested; a trip to Bag End, perhaps, to visit cousin Frodo. Those visits had only increased, in the years following Bilbo's departure.

"I think I'm going to fall."

With a grin, Merry reached out, and grabbed Pippin by the shoulder. Pippin wobbled slightly in his pair of too-large boots, then grinned crookedly as he laughed under his breath. Merry hadn't understood Pippin's decision to wear the boots when they first set out from the hall, and he still hadn't figured it out; but then, sometimes he felt the same when it came to Pippin.

Oh, and those boots. They were more suited to trudging around in muddy weather (something that Merry himself had experienced, on more than one occasion), and not for trekking through the snow.

"Better?" Merry asked.

Pippin nodded. "Much."

Merry turned away, only to be greeted by a whoosh, a thud, and a muttered curse as Pippin toppled over. Merry chuckled under his breath. "This is your own fault, you know."

Pippin chose not to respond and flailed instead, unable to rise.

"Tell me again, why do I love you?"

"And when did you decide that?" Pippin replied with a halfhearted wiggle. Merry rolled his eyes and Pippin borrowed his Da's best scowl. "Well, aren't you going to help me up?"

"Here," said Merry, as though he hadn't been prompted. He reached out, clasped Pippin's forearm, and pulled him to his feet. "There's really no need for those preposterous boots."

"My feet are cold," Pippin replied plaintively and Merry flicked a clump of snow out of Pippin's curly hair.

"It's not that cold," said Merry, quirking an eyebrow, still holding his cousin up by the arm.

"It is so," Pippin replied.

Merry could tell that Pippin wouldn't let him have the last word, so he moved on to the next task at hand. "There, now," he said. "Do you think that you can stand?"

Pippin looked desperate, but forced a smile and a matter-of-fact nod. "Yes, that's perfect, thank you very much." But Merry hadn't moved his hand far, before Pippin once again began to wobble and sway.

"Pippin, they're more trouble than they're worth," Merry said, moving quickly to grab Pippin by both shoulders. Pippin scowled, more at his predicament than at his cousin, and grabbed Merry by the arms.

"You're just jealous that Uncle Dodinas didn't give them to you," said Pippin.

Merry rolled his eyes, and steadied his grip.

"Pippin, Uncle Dodinas isn't exactly the sanest member of the family."

"He's not too bad," Pippin countered. "You should spend more time around my cousin Adelard, I really don't know how Reginard and Everard can still put up with their Da."

"Well, he's their father," was Merry's easy reply, and Pippin frowned suddenly as he batted at Merry's hands.

"I'm fine, I'll have you know," he said but Merry wasn't so sure.

Pippin gave a triumphant look as he took a step - but he slipped and fell back against Merry, clutching his cousin's shoulder.

"At the rate we're going, we'll never make it to the river," Merry grumbled, exhaling and sending the hair that hung down over his forehead up in a ruffle of warm breath. Pippin grumbled in annoyance.

"Pip, let go," said Merry, trying to pry his cousin free of his arm. Pippin stood fast. It all happened in a moment and they tumbled down into the snow. Merry on his back, and Pippin lying half on his side. Merry squirmed onto his side and pushed at Pippin, who flopped over onto his back. Pippin was the first to sit up and Merry followed after, feeling like this was a very lost cause.

"This is all your fault," said Merry, and it seemed that Pippin would simply agree. But Pippin, stubborn, clung to his innocence.

"It is not," said Pippin, determined.

"Is too," Merry replied, and Pippin's gaze turned thoughtful as he turned away.

He seemed about to say something but he decided against. With great ceremony Pippin removed his boots and set them to the side. He gave them a mournful look, and wiggled his toes. "Oh, useless," he muttered and Merry decided that Pippin was finally speaking some sense.

"Some things are," Merry replied, unsmiling. "We ought to do away with them, Pip, put them out of their misery." As an afterthought, he added, though under his breath. "And ours."

Pippin scowled at that, but that scowl melted into a smirk. Merry caught that look and held it; knowing Pippin as well as he did, he could tell there was a plan forming behind the other's grin.

"I think we need to cool down."

"What do you - Pippin!"

Pippin had scooped up a handful of snow and tossed it; Merry blinked at the sudden assault, taken by surprise.

Pippin laughed. He was already packing a snow ball together, scooting back as Merry came to his senses and grabbed for a handful of snow. They struck at the same time and Pippin laughed again, with snow in his mouth.

They stood, wrestled, fell back to the ground and rolled together in the snow. When Pippin tried to wriggle away, almost breathless from laughing, Merry pounced and pinned him against the ground, and Pippin was face to face with the snow.

"Merry!" he exclaimed, nearly in hysterics, red faced with tears glistening in his eyes. Merry smirked. Pippin's gave a shrill cry, Nonono!, and Merry took that as invitation to shove snow down his back. Pippin shrieked.

Merry was almost knocked back as Pippin squirmed underneath. He managed to turn so that they were left face to face. He continued to fight against Merry's hold. Merry was beginning to get unbearably hot.

"Monster!" Pippin gasped, trying to catch his breath.

Merry was grinning and the moment was very still and warm and the chill of the snowy winter's day seemed distant. He leaned forward, and the calm was broken as Pippin rolled with all of his might, and Merry was knocked aside. He hit the snow and didn't even have a chance to breathe. Pippin was on top of him, straddling his thighs and shoving snow down the front of his coat.

"Pippin!" Merry yelped. He tried to fight Pippin off; but his attacker was persistent.

When Merry had tired himself out, he wearily let his head flop back against the snow with a crunch. "You are going to be the death of me," he panted, and Pippin grinned, leaning close.

"Don't be so cynical," he said, kissing the reddened tip of Merry's nose. "It doesn't suit you at all."

Merry grumbled something, wrapped his arms around Pippin and pulled him close. Their breath, warm against the chill of the day, mingled together, and despite the ice that he felt against his chest and arm, Merry decided that this was very, very nice. It felt right, and Merry felt his lids grow heavy; this seemed the natural progression of things, from almost arguing, to play, to... "Pippin, love..."

"Merry-my-own..." Pippin murmured, in agreement, and Merry had no words; only a sound of contentment that he made at the back of his throat as Pippin nuzzled his lips.

It was nice, yes, more than just that, and Merry felt warm in Pippin's mouth, tasted mint tea and spice cake, and when he finally drew away, his eyes were closed, and he licked his lips. "That was good," said Pippin, and Merry laughed quietly, rubbing the back of Pippin's neck.

Pippin cracked a grin and opened one eye. "Let's have another, then," he said, and Merry murmured assent, and pressed his mouth against Pippin's. And he could find a feast in Pippin's mouth, more than enough; the first is always good, and the next is more than just better.

Neither of them said anything, letting their lips rest a breath apart, before kissing again. Merry had always known that the finest part of kissing Pippin, was that moment he felt they would fall right into one another. He just had to keep moving towards it, almost like he was stumbling towards it, blind. Oh, and there it was, good-better-best, and Merry knew that they could become one, just through their kiss.

Breathing, then, and silence. Pippin opened his eyes first, and grinned against Merry's mouth. "Oh, there's nothing that could ever top this."

"Oh?" Merry asked, nipping at Pippin, and he felt that he could read his mind.

Pippin mumbled against Merry's mouth, smiling. "You taste cool and sweet."

"And you taste like mint," was Merry's reply, and Pippin laughed as he drew away. The cold was beginning to press in again, and Merry thought that they might be better suited to seek out the hall, and his bed.

"Aren't you getting cold?" Pippin asked, shivering almost as an afterthought. He moved to the side so that he could shake out his coat. "My back is still a bit wet."

"And mine is probably soaked," Merry laughed, took a breath, then laughed again. Pippin cocked an eyebrow, and Merry tried hard to hold it in - the last thing he needed was for Pippin to think that he was losing his mind.

But maybe he was.

He couldn't help himself and Pippin seemed rather exasperated by it all. He stood up and Merry closed his eyes tight, holding his breath. "Well, aren't you going to get up?"

Merry was up in a moment, with a grin, and began to brush himself free of snow. He would have said something, then, but his breath was stolen away. A sudden terrible numb that seized his right arm. Where the numbness ended, everything was cold. He couldn't even flex his fingers - he couldn't even feel them at all. Never had he felt such a horrible nothing.

And it was dark.

He felt dizzy and out of place, and Merry swayed as a whisper rush of air like the haunting sound of dark wings. He wanted to cry, he felt so alone.

But he wasn't. There was a small voice that was calling to him, a little voice like a light. It was Pippin, and Merry was suddenly aware, it seemed to take all of his strength just to open his eyes. And yet he still felt he was floating. The world was blurred. Pippin was very far away.

"Merry?" Pippin called once more, and Merry blinked slowly. Everything came back into focus.

"Merry?" Pippin was pleading now.

Merry couldn't find his voice. He noticed that Pippin was kneeling, their gazes were even. It was then Merry was aware of the fact that he had fallen to his knees, and he blinked once again. He felt terribly confused. Pippin was frowning in worry. He guided Merry's head to rest against his shoulder.

"Merry, tell me what's the matter."

Merry took a deep shuddering breath, and then another; his tongue was heavy cotton in his mouth. "Are you going to bury me?"

Pippin gave a start. "No, indeed! Merry, we should return to the hall..."

"No, no," Merry replied, shaking his head. "I feel better already. It's just that my arm... well, I feel better already," he said again, rather lamely.

"I don't think so," said Pippin, unsure.

"Don't worry, Pippin. I'm feeling fine."

Pippin sighed then, frowning. Merry almost thought that he had been caught, but there wasn't much that Pippin could do. The moment had passed, and Merry was well. "Fine, yes. On top of the world."

Pippin rose up, as though he was through of Merry, but turned on his heel and japed his forefinger in Merry's direction. "You're acting rather strange," Pippin said, accusing. His look softened and he touched Merry's cheek.

"You feel warm."

"Well, I blame it on you."

"Now Merry -" Pippin started, in a tone that reminded Merry of Pippin's Da. "Yes, yes, blame everything on Pippin, he's young and he doesn't know what he's doing. And just because Merry's older, Pippin ought to listen to everything that he has to say. Well, Merry, I want you to know that I don't, and won't, and never ever will. You're not right, now. You're about as far from right as right could be."

They stared at each other in silence. Merry was uncertain of what he should say. Pippin was right - he really was right. It wasn't that Merry didn't want to admit that he was wrong, it's just that he'd always had a problem with admitting that Pippin was right. He felt knots tying in his stomach, thinking of that moment of darkness. He felt rather daft, pushing Pippin away. He should know better than that; Pippin would never willingly leave his side.

"Are you sure we shouldn't go back to the hall?" Pippin inquired, his voice low.

Merry could fight Pippin - he'd fought him before. There were even those times when he'd come out the victor. Because if there was a hobbit that knew how to be stubborn, then it was definitely Peregrin Took.

Instead, Merry wet his lips and said: "I guess you're right, Pippin. Maybe we should."

"I am," Pippin replied, though he seemed to be flustered at Merry's sudden acquiescence. And relieved. "Glad that you finally noticed."

He bent down to retrieve his boots after that, almost as if he was testing the water. Merry's first reaction was to groan - Pippin couldn't be serious! The second reaction was to just let Pippin do as he would. There were more important things in the world.

When Pippin looked up, Merry couldn't stand against the dread in his eyes. "Shall we, then?"

Merry nodded, felt the knots untying in his stomach, a wave of relief. "You do know that you'll feel silly about this in the morning."

There wasn't much to say after that.

Merry and Pippin walked towards the hall, their silence punctuated only by the crunch of snow beneath their feet.