By: Dana
Summary: The differences don't matter in the end.
Characters: Pippin, Merry, Boromir
Pairings: Boromir/Merry/Pippin
Rating: PG
Warnings: Slash
Author's Notes: A disgusting amount of fluff; it made my teeth rot right out of my mouth.
Most recent revision: November 10, 2004.
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.

Pippin has an ability to taste like candy despite the fact he hasn't had a chance at something sweet in longer than he can possibly remember. He dives headfirst into the kiss and he's all tongues and teeth, like it's all a great game and he's out to be on top. Kissing Pippin is like kissing a summer storm because you never know what to expect next. But no matter what, there's always a sort of playfulness in Pippin's kisses, and they're sweeter for the memories they stir; late afternoons, sunshine and the crisp taste of apples, breezes laden with late blooming blossoms, all of it together with something undeniably Pippin.

Merry is everything that Pippin's not; calm, reserved, holding a quiet sort of skill where Pippin is more likely to lose himself in the moment. He holds on and you think he's never going to let go, even if it's just the soft touch of lip against lip. But that's just one moment and then another falls and then there's the first feather touch of his tongue; he's persistent where others would be insistent, and he tastes of pipeweed and ale, warm and everything that really right and true in the world. And you might want to not let go, not never.

Pippin laughs and Boromir stirs from his collected thoughts, pulling himself to reality to feel the breath knocked from his chest as a hobbit sits right down atop him, foot tapping in the earth beside his form. "There you are, Boromir. We thought we'd lost you," he says, and smiles, and Merry laughs, too, and Boromir can see the elder hobbit giving him a sympathetic look from where he's standing at Boromir's feet.

"You caught me off guard," Boromir laughs; Pippin loves it when Boromir laughs because he knows it's something that's just for him and Merry to enjoy. "Whatever shall I do?"

"Admit that hobbits are far superior, of course," Pippin replies, crossing his arms and looking smug. Merry laughs and Boromir grins.

"Is that so, Master Pippin?" he asks, and Pippin nods sincerely.

"The truest truth in the world," Pippin says, and Boromir is touched.

"Well, then, there is only one thing I can say to that, my dear hobbit," Boromir responds, but falls silent; Pippin is curious, and leans forward.

"Oh, and what would that be, Boromir?" he asks, and Boromir grins and pulls him flat against his chest, laughing as Pippin yelps and squeaks out loud. "Boromir! That's not fair!" he half-gasps half-shrieks and Boromir sits up, holding him tight with one arm and tickling him without mercy with the other. "Merry! Merry! Help me!" he laughs and begs and Merry only grins, crossing his arms, Pippin's earlier smug look now belonging to his elder cousin.

"Now why should I go and do a thing like that? From where I stand, you're getting exactly what you deserve." Merry asks in a self-satisfied sort of way. Pippin laughs harder and shakes hard against Boromir and when the Man stills, holding Pippin instead of tormenting him, Pippin sags breathless against his chest.

"Oh my," he whispers, then giggles as aftershocks of sensation creep across his skin on spider-like fingers. "Oh my..."

Boromir cannot help himself, and he kisses Pippin's curls, cupping the hobbit's cheek with one of his hands. Pippin sighs softly and leans into the touch, turning just so to kiss Boromir's palm.

"Have you learned your lesson?" Boromir asks, and is very aware of Merry moving to sit beside him. He feels a tightness gathering in his throat and Pippin tilts his head and a grin plays against his lips.

"I've never been able to learn my lessons right away, Boromir. You should know that, seeing as --" but Pippin yelps as Merry jabs him hard in the side.

"Don't you think you've bothered the poor Man enough today, Pip?" Merry snorts and Pippin wiggles and turns and eyes him, and Boromir feels another sort of tightness and another sort of heat.

"Why, Merry, do I detect a note of jealousy?" Pippin asks in a smug sort of tone. Merry rolls his eyes and snags Pippin by the scarf, pulling him forward. He almost topples right out of Boromir's lap and onto Merry's but Merry steadies Pippin with a hand to his shoulder.

"You really don't know me, do you?" he asks, his lips a breath away from Pippin's. Pippin looks as though he'll reply, but doesn't, turning his head slightly and letting his eyes slide shut as he bridges the gap that's longer than it seems, and lets their mouths come together. It's like he's watching storms collide, the way Merry's hand loosely grips Pippin's wrist and the way Pippin's hand curls at the nape of Merry's neck. A million things are said without words, and Pippin knows Merry more than anyone will ever know him, cousin, friend, love, and Boromir feels like he's watching something that he shouldn't but he can't move away, he never has been able to, and he never thinks he will.

His tongue is heavy in his mouth and Pippin is the one who pulls away first, a sated sort of haze in his eyes, dark and green and half-lidded behind heavy lashes. Merry turns and grins, and Boromir feels the invitation unspoken in the air, the electric charge of a lightning storm, and he leans and captures Merry's lips with his own, or perhaps it's Merry who's captured his own.

He definitely knows that they've captured his heart, and he can't think of a world without them.