Here Comes the Bride

Author's Note: Birthday mathom for neuilly, a bit late. Short and light-hearted - hope you like it! Turned out just a bit smuttier than I expected, for a bit, because Merry didn't behave. 🙂

It was quite late -- or early, depending on one's point of view -- as Merry and Pippin returned from the post-wedding celebrations. Sam and Rosie were long gone, as was Frodo, who had retired shortly after the happy couple, claiming to be exhausted. Merry and Pippin on the other hand had been among the last guests to leave, both of them having enjoyed the ale, the music and the company until they could hardly stand anymore. Now they stumbled into Bag End, where Frodo had invited them to stay for the festivities, trying -- and failing -- to be quiet.

"Oh, now that was a great wedding!" Pippin exclaimed, holding onto the closest solid thing to keep himself upright. Unfortunately that happened to be Merry, none to steady on his feet himself, so that they both ended up a giggling heap of limbs on the floor. But that didn't disturb Pippin, who simply rolled onto his back and addressed the ceiling, which was spinning slightly. "Not that I didn't enjoy the ones in Gondor, mind you -- all very regal and beautiful, I'm sure, but somehow lacking a certain..."

The right word did not want to come to his mind, but luckily Merry, himself lying quite comfortably with his head on Pippin's stomach, knew exactly what he was talking about: "Sense of fun, hm? Seems to me as if hobbits sill have the best parties." With a grunt he managed to heft himself up on his elbows and peered down at Pippin's grinning face, right then nodding vigorously, causing the ceiling to spin even more.

"Exactly! The best parties in all of Middle Earth!"

Merry suddenly changed the subject, because he had remembered something that seemed far more important right then: "No, was a good party -- but before that, I seem to remember a certain Took catching the bouquet. Now, were you trying to tell me something, Pip, or did your arms just happen to be in the air at that moment?"

He smirked down at Pippin, who looked slightly nonplussed. "You are so full of yourself, Meriadoc Brandybuck! I don't know why I even bother to spend time with you!" Trying to appear deadly insulted, Pippin attempted to raise himself and stalk to his room in a huff, which was on the opposite end of the hallway. But the still spinning ceiling foiled him, and he ended up on his backside again, with Merry laughing so hard at him all the time that his handsome face started to bear strong resemblance to a tomato. So Pippin settled for poking his tongue out at his cousin before proceeding to ignore him completely.

Only Merry did not seem to know when he was being ignored, because, still chuckling, he crawled over to Pippin's spot on the floor. "Aww, don't be silly, Impling," he coaxed, settling back down with his head in Pippin's lap, looking up at him with his best imitation of Pippin's own begging face.

It was working, too, because Pippin couldn't help but grin down at him. "You're just lucky I'm too drunk to stay mad at you!" he slurred, poking Merry on the nose -- or at least trying to, because his finger ended up on Merry's lips instead and was promptly bitten lightly. Before Pippin could protest, though, a nimble tongue swirled out and soothed the mistreated digit, pulling it into the wet heat of Merry's mouth.

Any thought of sulking flew right out of Pippin's head as he fought to keep his eyes fixed on the image of Merry pleasuring his finger to the best of his abilities -- and those were very good indeed, as Pippin knew all too well. He shifted, his breeches suddenly too tight, and found that the weight of Merry made for good friction.

He had just found a nice, comfortably rhythm, when suddenly Merry let go of his finger. "Why did you stop, Mer?" Pippin complained, unable to keep a whine out of his voice.

Merry just smiled up at him lazily and licked his lips slowly. "Because I don't think we should be doing this in the hallway, Impling." Pippin swallowed and tried to think his way out of the fog in his brain. Why did Merry always have to be so responsible? Was not fair.

"Well, then why did you even start? Because I don't think I can move, the bedroom is awfully far away, and the ceiling is still spinning. Tell it to stop, Merry!"

Merry chuckled, a deep and throaty sound that would have sent Pippin's thoughts into a very distinct direction, had it not been so infuriating right now. And he still made no move to get up, apparently very comfortable half on the floor and half on top of Pippin, so that Pippin could not even move if he wanted to. Well, normally he would have been able to, of course, but right now he was heavy with drink and sleep, and the thought of pushing Merry aside felt like too much effort.

Which brought him back to why they were still here instead of in the bedroom. Obviously his brain was circling just as much as the ceiling. Or maybe it was his brain in the first place? Pippin was momentarily side-tracked by this train of thought, but then Merry shifted and he remembered their conversation. Interaction. Finger-lickage. Whatever it was they had been doing before Merry stopped.

Merry, whose face was flushed with ale and tiredness and who seemed to have forgotten everything about his plan to get them to the bedroom, because he was currently in the process of nodding off. How could he! Pippin jerked his knees, effectively rattling Merry out of his drowsiness, which earned him a dirty look and a pinch in the leg.

"Alright, alright. Let's get you to bed, then." With that Merry hefted himself up on his arms, half rolling onto his side before he managed to get to his feet. He was far from steady, and it took a while until he managed to pull up Pippin as well. When they were both standing, leaning against each other for support as well as holding onto whatever part of the walls were handy, he started into the direction of his bedroom, which was closer.

Pippin was happy to be led, finding it pretty hard to remember how to walk. Really, it was amazing how easy this seemed normally, as it was quite an involved process. But before he could follow this thought further, they had reached their goal, and Pippin was deposited on the bed. He fell face-forward into the comforter with a sigh, followed instantly by a groan as the air rushed out of his lungs when Merry misaimed and landed on top of him instead of beside him.

It took them a while to get their arms, legs and other body parts sorted, but finally Pippin was lying next to Merry, at least partly under the blanket and without his weskit. Merry was breathing wetly against his neck, his arm thrown heavily over Pippin, and Pippin seemed to remember something that had been started and never finished. But he could not quite pin the idea down, so he let it go for the moment, sleep much more tempting than anything else right then.

Just before he drifted off, he thought he heard Merry hum something under his breath. The sound followed him into his dreams, which involved being trapped under a heavy but cuddly dog licking Pippin all over with a very wet tongue, a weird but not uncomfortable experience. The only thing Pippin did not understand was why the dog insisted on humming something that sounded suspiciously like a wedding waltz...