I wasn't certain how to keep Pippin occupied, considering he'd already rummaged through half of his Mum's clothes and decided that none of them would do--whatever that meant. Regardless, I didn't fancy having to explain to Aunt Eglantine why her drawers--both sorts, at that--looked as if one of the barn cats had been through them. And left kittens, no less. I opened the nearest mewling compartment and tugged Teaberry's two kittens out. I held them up and cleared my throat.

"Pip, why on earth did you shut them in there?"

Pippin looked up from his rummaging in the bottom drawer, which looked to be full of old petticoats. "They climbed the sheets and were crawlin' all over the bed! I couldn't have that, they make Da sneeze. He keeps threatening to ship Tea and Tomkin off to you and your lot if I bring them in the smial one more time," Pippin complained, biting his lip.

When he turns those eyes on me, there's no use arguing. I tucked the kittens to my chest and bounced them, and eventually, their crying stopped. I watched Pippin carefully reject a few more garments before giving a soft shout of aha! He held up a yellowish, raggedy thing with dangling lace.

"This ought to do, don't you think?"

"Pip, what are we going to do with it?"

Pippin scowled, folding it up importantly and slinging it over his shoulder. "Make a bed for the babies, of course," he sniffed, holding out his arms. "If you please, Merry. They'll be fussing again within the minute. They don't know you."

I smirked, looking down at the tiny warm bundles tucked into the crooks of my arms. The white one with black paws had taken an intense, quiet interest in the embroidery of my weskit. The her brother, a soft marmelade orange, slept peacefully. "You were saying, Pip? Within the minute?"

Pippin pouted and made a grab for the smaller of the two, the wakeful one. She gave a squeaking yowl that sounded strangely disappointed. Pippin rocked her and crooned softly, calling her what sounded like Snowberry. I stroked her brother's silken forehead, wondering if he had a name.

"Very well, then, you can carry him. He's a brat, you know. Eats, sleeps, chases his sister. Good for nothin' but mischief." Pippin was scowling again. I bit my lip. I wondered if he knew I found that even more adorable than his more indignant looks.

"We should get them outside," I said, reaching out to shake his shoulder gently. Pippin looked up from the kitten I held with a frown.

"Right," he sighed, staring at the windowpane glumly. Rain hit it in small, scattering splashes.

"They'll be safe in the barn. You were afraid the hay isn't warm enough, is that it? Pip, having them in your room overnight was one thing, but when your parents get home--"

"You wouldn't let me play with them last night," Pippin said softly, trying his best to prevent a smile from taking his pout.

"Of course not. You're much more fun," I murmured, leaning over the kittens to kiss him.

Pippin protested briefly, a soft, muffled huff. "Meriadoc, I'll have you know," he mumbled when I gave him the chance, "your idea of play isn't fit for kittens' eyes. Imagine if they'd woke up--"

"Oh, hush, you. Let's go. As if Teaberry and her Tom won't be tuppin' in front of them before they're a year--"

"That's not the point, Merry," Pippin informed me, spinning on his heel, heading for the door. I sighed, having no choice but to follow. And as sweet as he was, little would-be Marmelade simply wasn't Pippin. I didn't catch up with him till I reached the main hall, where he stood dangling a piece of lace just out of Snowberry's reach.

"Don't tease her," I chided.

"You'd be doin' the same if Goblin there'd bother openin' his eyes--"

I stared at him incredulously. "Goblin? You named him Goblin?"

Pippin nodded matter-of-factly, which tactic was generally employed for the purpose of furthering an argument. "He's mean as any in Uncle Bilbo's tales, so Goblin he is."

I felt honestly indignant. I would not let the little one grow up with such an abomination with a name, not when I could win Pippin over with the right kind of persuasion.

"Nonsense. He's Marmelade, and I say so."

"Is not."

"Is too."

"You've never seen him torment his lil' sister!"

"So I haven't," I agreed, "and I think he's a fine little jar of Marmelade, without an ounce of Goblin to speak of. So there."

"You're awfully bossy today," Pippin sulked, trudging toward the front door with a rather alarming frown. "And," he added over his shoulder, "you were awfully bossy last night."

My jaw dropped. "What do you--"

"You know what you did," he said, and slipped out the door.

With heart lurching, I followed. Rain drove into my eyes; it was harder than it had looked through the bedroom window. Goblin-Marmelade woke with an indignant mew, burrowing into my weskit. I tucked him under it, dashing after Pippin.

If I had offended the kittens last night, then Pippin hadn't minded at the time. Sleepovers had been few and far in between of late, and I missed Pippin's kisses and warm body with a vengeance. He hadn't protested more than a wince when I tugged him up from kissing his way to my bellybutton. I wanted to hold him, tight and restless, and I'd done just that until I couldn't take it any longer, until his teeth at my neck and his toes creeping down the backs of my thighs set me to gasping and shaking. We hadn't done it more than a handful of times, but since we had, there'd been no stopping. To hear him cry my name like that was--

"Are you coming or not?" Pippin called, peering out the barn doors.

I looked up with a start, dashing over hastily. I slipped inside before he could change his mind and shut me out. In that kind of mood, I wouldn't put it past him. Nor anything else peevishly vindictive, for that matter. Last time I slighted him, my favorite breeches ended up with raspberry stains that Mum had a fair fit over. And I'm most sour indeed that they're now populating the rag basket.

"Bring him over here, Merry," Pippin instructed. He had already made a nest of hay and draped the petticoat over it, nestled a still-active Snowberry amidst the tattered lace. She clawed at it happily, hardly noticing when I settled her brother a few inches away, still fast asleep. I stood up and studied them, feeling curiously proud of Pip. His heart was never in the wrong place, no matter how ill-set his pranks otherwise. I slipped an arm carefully about his waist. He made as if to pull away, but I held him.

"Pip," I said softly.

"It was awfully nice, yes, but I'm mad at you."

I frowned and turned him to face me, tilting his chin up. "I didn't know."

He half-smiled and looked down. "Oh, aye. And I wasn't goin' t'let you know."

"You never do. It's up to me to find out."

"You always do," Pippin said quietly, reaching up to trace the bridge of my nose. I caught his hand and nipped the offending index finger lightly. Pippin's eyes widened.

"I...do want to try that," I confessed, pressing his hand to my lips.

"Me too, an' you're not turnin' the tables again when I do!"

I felt a fool. "I'm sorry...don't think I wouldn't have..."

"Liked it? You're positively silly, Meriadoc. I don't expect you won't, either."

I tugged him in and kissed him before he had the chance to add aught that might tempt me to tease. His hair was soft under my fingers, softer than his laughing mouth. Actually, his mouth made things quite difficult.

"Pip...I can't kiss you if you won't...let--"

"I can't taste you if you won't let me, either," he whispered against my chin, his hands wandering boldly. I closed my eyes and sucked in my breath, didn't dare tug them away. But I did dare a tease, after all:

"Pip, the kittens," I reminded him, leaning to nip his ear. Pippin squeaked and forgot my buttons for a moment, arms sliding tight about my waist. He set his chin firmly against my shoulder, forehead to my cheek.

"I don't bloody care about the kittens."

I chuckled. "But I thought--"

"Oh, do be quiet. And lie down, while you're at it. Over there," Pippin ordered, pointing to another broken bale.

I let go of him and walked over, sprawling back with a grin of amusement. Pip was somehow lovely in the dim light, hazel-green eyes hard with his best imitation of command. His scarf hung ondone, as damp and darkened as his hair. He knelt down and crawled up between my legs, leaning forward with hands braced on my thighs.

"Good lad," he whispered, grinning impishly. I pinched his sides lightly, and he fell squirming with a yelp. "Merry, Merry, stop--"

I did. He panted against my shoulder for a few moments, then rocked back on his heels again. Before diving forward, pinning me with a breath-devouring kiss. I floundered for a moment, grasping at his arms.

"Shhh, Merry," Pippin purred in my ear, "you'll wake Goblin--"

"Marmelade."

"Not yet, he isn't..."

Pippin unfastened my breeches quickly, fingers deft with practice. My breath caught at the brush of his fingers, the cool, faintly humid air. I longed for his hand to take its place, his mouth, that taunting mouth--

What on earth had I been thinking? I held my arms out to him, and he came slowly, nuzzling against my cheek, kissing softly. I closed my eyes and shuddered at the press of his weight, the warm, slightly damp friction of his clothing. It was a strange thrill, lying like that, and I breathed it into his hair, told him that, yes, I wanted, and then I wanted to--

"Not yet," Pippin repeated, and began kissing a slow, torturous trail from my chin to the hollow of my throat. He lingered there for a while, pressing one thigh against me until it was all I could do to resist taking--

Pippin swatted my hands away from his waist, lifted his head, gave me a distinctly warning look. "If you can't lie still, Goblin's Goblin till Hildifons comes home..."

"Not--likely--!" I grunted. His busy fingers were at it again, teasing me with tugs and brushes while his mouth danced aimlessly over my shirt and weskit, as if to taunt the flesh beneath. I daresay it worked. I couldn't speak by the time he reached my stomach, by the time he finally hitched my shirt up far enough to kiss the very spot at which I'd interrupted him.

"Mhm, not likely at all," Pippin agreed, nipping and licking till I could do little other than bury my fingers in prickly, unforgiving hay. I mustn't grab him, I--

"PIP!"

"Oh, come now, Merry. That was just a brush, that was."

I gaped at the rafters, panting, struggling for words. "If--you don't--soon, I--will!"

"We can't have that. No, not at all..."

Gentle, experimental dabs of his tongue, lighter than a feather. I bit my tongue and whimpered. Long, smooth laps, a murmur of curiosity as he paused, molding his lips warm against...

"Pip," I choked.

"You're so soft," he murmured, working his hands under my hips. I gave a shallow gasp, shifting in his grip. "I think that'll work," he whispered, lips pursing oh so lightly once more...

And there he was without warning, almost choking himself, and I couldn't have chided him even if I had tried. I struggled enough as it was, wanting to thrust as I never had before, knowing that I couldn't. I could feel Pippin gasp softly for air now and then, make surprized utterances when I happened to move too much, or cry out--

"Pip...Pip, I d--don't know if you--w--want to--to--oh, Pip..."

"That--is nonsense," Pippin replied, and I sat up enough to watch him draw me in again--and only enough, and I fell back again with a shudder and a cry.

Gone.

I sobbed his name into high, lofty space, heard his yell in unison as if from a very great distance. I struggled to sit up in spite of the delicious weakness trembling through me. I'd heard him cough, too.

"Oh...Pip, are you--"

Pippin spat again, wiping at his mouth, eyes wide. He simply stared.

I felt like laughing, but I couldn't. Only that would have been truly cruel. I held my arms out to Pippin. He blinked at me several times more, expression unreadable. My heart stumbled again, as if I were chasing him into yet another dusty barn of uncertainty.

"Pip..."

"Oh, be quiet, Merry," he said finally, breaking out in an awkward grin. "You've given me enough of a mouthful for one day, you have..."

He tumbled into my arms, laughing nervously. I held him for long moments, laughing when he protested at my leaning in for a kiss.

"Mer--but--"

"I really don't care. I really don't. In fact, I suppose..."

"Merry?"

"...you don't taste half bad yourself..."

Pippin whimpered and squirmed against my hand. "Oh, Merry."

"Lie down, you silly Took."

"Mm, all ri--mm--oh! Merry--"

I kissed his chin and tugged at him gently. "Yes?"

Pippin shivered happily, eyes closing as he tilted his head back.

"He's Marmelade s'long as you promise I can use some next time."

I had no objections to that. But rather than say so, I showed him.