“Merry, first promise me that you won’t panic.”
Merry, of course, immediately began to panic. “Frodo? What’s wrong? What happened?”
He heard Frodo sigh. “I shouldn’t have started that way. Merry-love, Pippin was…hurt. We’re taking him to Aragorn’s to get patched back up, will you meet us there?”
Merry went ice-cold, freezing in place in the middle of pacing. “Pippin?” he whispered, and noticed distantly that the hand not holding the phone had begun to shake.
“Shh, Merry, it’s not bad--truly, it’s not. He’s right here next to me in the car, leaning on my shoulder, looking at me. Should I put him on?”
“Please?” Merry said, and firmly ordered himself to keep the tears out of his voice.
“Merry?” Pippin’s voice came on the line, a little shaky but otherwise fine.
“Hey sweetie,” Merry said softly. “I’ll be with you as quick as I can, I swear.” He waited for Pippin to laugh him off, and tell him not to worry.
“Please?” Pippin said. “Please come, Mer. I need you.” And Merry heard tears and pain in his voice, and had to bite the inside of his cheek hard before he could speak again.
“I’m going out the door right now, honey--I’ll catch a cab over there. I love you so much, and I’ll see you soon, I promise,” Merry said, scrubbing at his eyes as he found keys and wallet and ran out of the door, all but flying down three flights of stairs.
“I love you too,” Pippin said. “We’re here now. Um. Bye.”
“Bye love,” Merry said tenderly and then ran the handful of blocks to 30th Street Station, where he could find a cab that would get him to Aragorn’s East Falls house.
Merry stayed inside of his head for the cab ride, paying numbly before entering Aragorn’s house, not even knocking before he walked into the familiar living room.
Pippin sat on the edge of the sofa, and Merry couldn’t hold back as gasp. Half of his face had blood on it, trickling down as far as his neck, and matting his hair. Aragorn, facing him, worked slowly but surely, stitching in a small clean space above Pippin’s eyebrow. Frodo and Sam sat on another couch nearby, and Sam was the first to notice Merry, looking up as he came in. He nudged Frodo, who sprang up and was across the room before Merry could blink.
“Hey Merry,” he murmured with a smile, folding Merry into his embrace. “Thanks for coming.”
“What happened?” Merry murmured, holding Frodo tightly, hiding his face in the crook of Frodo’s neck. Despite himself, tears began to roll down his face, and he felt Sam at his back, rubbing his shoulders gently.
“Oh, leave me alone,” he said roughly, softening the words with a weak laugh. “Pippin’s the one who got hurt.”
“Merry, you drama-queen.” Pippin’s voice cut through Merry numbness, as he rose unsteadily, only to be yanked down by Aragorn. Merry was across the room quickly, though, gathering the now-stitched-up Pippin into his arms.
A hiss of pain made him loosen his hug, and Merry leaned back, starting to feel a little panicked. Must have looked it, too, he decided, because Pippin made an impatient little noise, and leaned closer, resting his head on Merry’s shoulder.
Aragorn returned from washing his hands, and Merry felt strong arms drawing both him and Pippin into an embrace. He leaned into it a moment, drawing strength from Aragorn’s reassuring hold, and the smell of earth and tobacco that clung to him. Merry treasured the weight of Pippin in his arms, the familiar head that rested on his shoulder, arms that fit together just so.
Aragorn let go after a few moments, handing Merry a damp cloth he’d brought with him, and gestured towards Pippin.
Merry took Aragorn’s place, perched on the edge of a coffee table, and faced Pippin, looking him in the eye for the first time. Calm green eyes looked back, and Pippin managed a partial smile, but Merry sensed pain running beneath, combining with his own pain at seeing Pippin hurting.
Slowly, gently, he began to wipe blood from Pippin’s face, cleaning his forehead, his cheek, trying to wipe the worst from his hair. He was very careful not to notice blood soaking Pippin’s shirt. A lot of blood. Head wounds bleed a lot, even tiny ones, Merry reminded himself severely, and gently kissed Pippin’s cheek, where he’d cleaned away blood.
“Baby, what happened to you?” Merry asked, when he’d set the bloody cloth aside. He moved to one end of the couch, lifted Pippin onto his lap, holding the too-light body close, gently stroking Pippin’s hair. Frodo sat down next to him, one hand on Merry’s shoulder and the other rubbing Pippin’s back, while Sam sat cross-legged at Frodo’s feet, and Aragorn pulled a chair close. Together, they formed a little circle, and Merry could almost physically feel their love and support. Perversely, this did not comfort him--he knew he’d need it, with whatever Pippin was about to tell him.
“Pippin?” he prompted softly, again, and Pippin nuzzled a little closer in his arms.
“We were walking back to the car,” he began, his voice dull, un-Pippinlike. “The concert was really great. I was behind Sam and Frodo, I guess kinda far back.” He smiled a little, turning his head to see Frodo, and touching Sam’s shoulder. “You two were so cute, and just the way you were looking at each other--you needed to be alone for a little bit.”
“Dearest heart, we can always wait. Always. Don’t ever feel you can’t interrupt us,” Frodo remonstrated softly, kissing Pippin’s shoulder.
Pippin shrugged. “It wasn’t a big deal, Frodo.” He smiled a little. “I could just walk and daydream, and it was nice and warm out, and you two are really cute.” Merry smiled a little, kissing Pippin on the forehead and holding him a little closer. Pippin laid his head back on Merry’s shoulder, and reached up to squeeze his hand and lace their fingers together.
“And then there was this guy,” he said quietly. “He came up behind me, and snapped off my necklace.”
Merry bit his lip, gently tracing around Pippin’s neck. He’d bought Pippin that necklace at last year’s Gay Pride.
“I guess he was drunk. Or dusted, I don’t know, but even before I could say anything he shoved me down. I guess that’s when I cut my head. He-he was yellin’ stuff, and I screamed, and he kicked me, a lot, and then I-I guess Sam and Frodo heard, ‘cause he was gone and Sam was lifting me up.” Pippin spoke in a rush, even through his tears; Merry had begun to cry as well, silently so Pippin wouldn’t know, not with his face buried in Merry’s shoulder. Merry rocked them a little, barely feeling Frodo’s arms around them, Sam’s hand on his knee, Aragorn’s touch on his shoulder. His whole world narrowed to Pippin, to holding him close and comforting him, wishing he could protect him. Numb, Merry whispered things, love-things and comfort-things, and slowly, Pippin’s tears slowed, and stopped, and Merry raised his head to find that he wasn’t the only one with tears staining his cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” Sam said roughly. “I’m sorry we weren’t there, Pippin, that we came too late.”
Merry blinked a few times, surprised and touched, but it was Pippin who reached out, squeezing Sam’s shoulder. “Don’t be silly,” he said. “You might’ve gotten hurt too.” Pippin’s face was still flushed, but his voice was clear and calm. “You and Frodo did more than enough, Sam-love.”
Frodo placed a secret little kiss on Pippin’s neck, smiling when Pippin twisted around to face him. “Love you, Pippin,” he murmured, and Pippin reached out his arms for a long, long hug. “I’m so sorry,” Frodo whispered, almost too softly for Merry to hear. “I’m so, so sorry. I would have killed him for what he said to you.”
Merry looked over, a question in his eyes, and Frodo mouthed “later”, still hugging Pippin tightly.
There were fresh tears on Pippin’s face when he turned back around, and wrapped his arms around Merry’s shoulders. “Please, Merry, can we go home?” he said, voice clear with longing. Merry tilted Pippin’s chin up and brushed his lips softly across Pippin’s.
“We’ll go home, love,” he murmured, looking at Aragorn for confirmation. The gentle man nodded, smiling slightly at both of them.
“Just keep that cut clean,” he instructed. “I’ll take the stitches out in a few weeks.” Merry nodded, smiling suddenly.
“Thank you, so much,” he said sincerely, and Pippin nodded.
“You’re very welcome,” Aragorn said with a smile, and stood, helping Pippin up. “You lost a good bit of blood, Pip, so just take it easy for a day or two. Want something to eat for the way home?” Pippin nodded his head a little, smiling slightly, and Aragorn disappeared into the dimly lit kitchen.
Merry pulled Pippin back into his arms, resting his chin on Pippin’s shoulder. Aragorn’s apartment felt so safe, for all it was done in severe black and silver--it was homey, and comforting. And the place he was introduced to Pippin.
Frodo and Sam also got ready to leave, driving Merry and Pippin home. Aragorn emerged too soon with a granola bar, which Pippin accepted with a smile, and hugs were given all ‘round, as Aragorn bid them goodbye.
The drive back to Merry and Pippin’s apartment was silent, and the goodbyes quick, though Frodo promised to call the next day to see if they needed anything. Another round of hugs and kisses, and Merry was walking back up those stairs he’d last run down, firmly holding Pippin’s hand.
Their apartment was dark when they entered, and Pippin squirmed a little closer until Merry turned on lamps and lights, bringing a cozy glow to the rooms. Pippin still stood in the center of the living room, looking lost, and Merry forced himself to not cry as he took Pippin in his arms.
“I love you,” he murmured. “Oh, Pippin, I love you. So, so much. You’re safe now; I’ll protect you from everything. Safe. Oh, love.”
But Pippin was still silent, though his arms came up to return Merry’s embrace. Despite himself, tears began to flow down Merry’s face, as he gently picked Pippin up in his arms.
“Please, love, may I take care of you?” he asked softly, and Pippin nodded, nuzzling close. Merry carried him into their tiny bathroom, and started filling the tub. He was hyper-aware of every movement he was making, from testing the water temperature to finding clean towels.
Finally, though, the bath was drawn, and he helped Pippin undress, frowning a little to see him moving stiffly already. Merry couldn’t hold back a gasp when he saw the beginnings of bruises already covering Pippin’s stomach and ribs. Pippin looked down, and his mouth made a small o, but he said nothing, just staying quiet, and slumped a little.
Merry sighed softly, wishing there was room for both him and Pippin in the tub, but it was almost too small for Pippin alone, so he remained clothed as he helped Pippin in.
“Just sit, and relax a little,” Merry said, still speaking softly, and moving slowly, as one would around a wild animal, trying not to startle it. Pippin stared ahead, silent.
Just trying to break the eerie quiet, Merry hummed a little, rubbing Pippin’s shoulders. Gently, he wiped away a little bit of blood he’d missed earlier, leaning forward to kiss the spot when it was clean.
“How do you feel?” he asked, and Pippin shrugged, biting his lip.
“Ah, love,” Merry said softly. “What’s in your heart?”
Pippin’s lower lip trembled, and Merry was there even before he began sobbing; ugly, broken noises coming from him. “Oh, my Pippin-love, my love, my only love,” he chanted. “I’ve got you. Oh, I do, sweetie.” And Pippin continued to cling to him, crying and choking until Merry was afraid he’d be sick, but he held Pippin through it all, rubbing his back gently, holding him close.
A long time later, though, Pippin’s sobs calmed, although tears still streamed down his face. Merry leaned back on his heels a little to examine Pippin, smiling sadly at his reddened face, rumpled, still-matted hair, and bright green eyes.
“Better?” he asked, and Pippin nodded.
“I got your shirt all wet,” he said softly, and Merry made a growly noise.
“Damn the shirt,” he said, and yanked it off, tossing it aside. “My lovie. You’re a mess. Lie back, and let me take care of you.”
Pippin smiled a little, reaching out to touch Merry’s shoulder. “You don’t have to, Merry. I wasn’t hurt that badly, not really.”
“Duck,” Merry commanded, and waited to reply until Pippin had wet his hair, and he could begin to shampoo it. “And you hush up. I do need to do this, Pippin.” He paused for a moment, leaning over to kiss Pippin softly. “I love you,” Merry said, simply, and was stunned at the smile Pippin gave him.
“I love you too,” Pippin replied, leaning in for a little kiss. “Merry, I’m still scared,” he said softly, and Merry saw that he was still crying.
“Me too,” Merry replied, just as softly, still massaging the shampoo through Pippin’s hair. “I wish I had been there. I wish so bad.”
“Just…just…” Pippin trailed off, and Merry had him duck under the water again, rinsing his hair.
“I’m not leaving your side, as long as you need me,” Merry reassured. “I’ll hold you, all night long, and tomorrow night, and every night that you need it. And all day, too.”
Pippin smiled a little at that thought, and leaned back with a sigh as Merry soaped up a pouf, and started to clean the rest of his body, gliding over the bruises with the gentlest of touches. He cleaned Pippin quickly, and then helped him out of the bath, toweling him off and then lifting him again, carrying him into their bedroom.
Merry laid Pippin down tenderly, in the middle of their bed, and went to find a pair of boxers; all Pippin slept in for hot Philadelphia summers. He was still able to swallow his tears, right now, when he needed to. He returned, relieved to see Pippin’s eyes still clear. Once dressed, Pippin lay back against the pillows, sighing deeply.
Merry smiled a little, and finger-combed his still-wet curls. “Can I get you anything?” he asked, caressing Pippin’s cheek. “Some juice, or something?”
“No, no,” Pippin sighed, leaning into the touch. “Just…oh, love. Can we stay up a little later?”
Merry laughed a little at that, realizing it was only ten o’clock. “Of course, Pip. Let’s pull out the futon, and fall asleep watching TV like all good Americans.
That got a true laugh out of Pippin, and he followed Merry into the living room, helping him pull out the futon. He immediately took control of the channel-changer, flopping down on his stomach. Merry lay down next to him, wrapping an arm around Pippin and pulling him close, with a little kiss to his cheek.
“Love you,” he said affectionately, and Pippin snuggled closer, grunting a little when he couldn’t get close enough.
Merry laughed a little, and piled some pillows up, and pulled Pippin into his arms, his back to Merry’s chest. Merry wrapped his arms loosely around Pippin’s torso, mindful of bruises, and blew a little raspberry into the side of his neck.
Pippin giggled, high and sweet, and Merry’s heart leapt at the sound and, despite himself, he began to cry again. Pippin noticed, of course, and turned around to hug Merry tightly.
“Ah, my own Merry,” he murmured. “All is well, don’t you see? I’m safe, here with you, and you love me, and I love you. And all is well.”
Merry kept crying, a steady stream of tears, and Pippin kissed them all away. He wasn’t even entirely sure why he was crying, only that his heart hurt, and he’d almost lost Pippin. That was it. The image of Pippin, covered in bright red blood, that wouldn’t leave his mind, and it didn’t matter that Pippin was right there, alive and warm in his arms. He’d gotten so close to losing him, and Merry realized that that scared him more than anything else. Pippin was the most precious thing in the world to him, and he couldn’t lose him, ever, ever.
All this ran through his head as Pippin snuggled close, and soothed him, and Merry held him, felt his weight, and gradually relaxed, tears slowing, and finally stopping. And then he held Pippin a little longer, and sighed a little, and kissed the tip of his nose.
“I love you so very much,” he said with a smile, and Pippin smiled.
“I love you, my Merry,” he said, and turned back over to lie on Merry’s chest, smiling as he snuggled down.
It took three cycles of flipping through the TV and finding nothing for Merry to growl and snap it off. Pippin grumbled a little bit too, resting his head on Merry’s chest.
“Still not ready for bed,” he said softly, and nuzzled a little closer, Merry hugging him tightly for a moment, and beginning to get an idea.
“C’mon. I have a surprise for you,” he said, and lifted Pippin into his arms, carrying him back into their bedroom. Pippin laughed a little, wiggling.
“Merry, you geek! I can still walk!”
Merry smiled, and touched his nose to Pippin’s. “I know. But please, love, let me just hold you as close as I can.”
Pippin smiled, slinging his arms around Merry’s neck. “Okay,” he said softly, and laid his head on Merry’s shoulder, even as Merry lay him down on the bed.
“Be right back,” Merry promised, rubbing Pippin chest lightly, and went over to the low bookshelf next to the desk. He came back with an old-looking clothbound volume, and settled down next to Pippin, laying one arm across his shoulders and opening the book.
“’Once a term the whole school went for a walk,’” he began, and Pippin smiled, laying his head on Merry’s shoulder. “’--that is to say, the three masters took part as well as all the boys.’,” Merry continued to read, his voice taking on a slow rhythm, and he lost himself in the words, in their meanings, and their sounds, and it was quite awhile later that he looked up to find Pippin snoring lightly on his shoulder, face relaxed in sleep.
Merry smiled down to see Pippin sleeping so sweetly, and gently maneuvered himself free, putting the book aside for another time and hitting the lights. He returned to the bed quickly, and Pippin squirmed towards him in his sleep.
Merry drifted off in the thick summer heat, one hand on Pippin’s shoulder, and dreamed confused, sad dreams.