Mucho thanks to Thuri Brandybuck, who wrote part of this and got me out of a rut.
Merry whistled happily to himself as he jogged up the stairs, Pippin following behind, a bit more slowly. He reached their apartment quickly, leaving the door open behind him and happily flopping down on a chair.
“Oof,” he groaned a bit, when Pippin came in, sitting quietly on the futon. “Now I remember why I hate Roxborough. Too many hills, although nice houses. What’d you think?”
Pippin smiled a little, tiredly. “Okay, I guess. They all blended together after awhile.”
Merry grinned and moved to sit next to Pippin on the futon, draping an arm over his shoulders. “We’ll find someplace. A perfect place, with a porch, and a big, big bedroom.” He lay back against the oversized pillows, Pippin leaning against him, smiling at the description.
“Hardwood floors. They
glow honey-colored in the sunlight. And
huge ceilings, and a living room with a fireplace, and we’ll put a sofa in
front of it, or this old thing, or just a really soft rug, so we can cuddle
there when it’s cold out. And
we’ll have a big kitchen for you, and big, airy windows in the front room.
A staircase that curves, just a bit, and plants in every window, so the
light is green and good. A garden
out back, and a lawn, and we’ll fight over who has to cut it.”
Merry looked down and smiled when Pippin giggled. “Your dreams are bigger than your wallet,” he chided a little, and Merry kissed his hair.
“Maybe. I want to give you the most beautiful home ever, someday. I will, someday,” Merry promised softly, and when he met Pippin’s eyes, they were a soft, dark green.
“Maybe I want to give you that beautiful home,” he countered, and Merry smiled, leaning in for a little kiss.
“Maybe we’ll do it together, for each other,” he murmured, and sighed into the soft feel that was Pippin’s lips.
“I love you,” Pippin whispered, turning around, the better to kiss Merry deeply.
“I love you too,” Merry murmured back,
wrapping his arms around Pippin’s waist.
“I love you forever,” he continued, lost to words, lost to the feel
of Pippin.
But not for long, because Pippin froze in mid-kiss. “No,” he whispered, and dropped his head to lie on Merry’s shoulder. “Merry, no, no.”
Merry grunted in impatience. “Why not, Pippin?”
Pippin looked up at him, eyes wide. “You know,” he said, voice shaking. “You know why, you can’t have forgotten…forgotten…”
Merry kissed his forehead quickly, but he was frowning. “No, no, I haven’t. But--Pippin, we’ve been living together for four years! You obviously love me, and please, don’t you know by now I love you too?”
“You’re not the first to say that,” Pippin protested.
“And I love you, I do, but…Merry.
My parents, all those other boys…”
“Are not me,” Merry said, anger in his voice. Pippin sat up, moving away a little. "Why are you so sure I'm going to leave you? What have I ever done to make you think that?”
Pippin halfheartedly punched the pillow next to him.
“You don’t understand Merry,” he said, his voice low and
choked. “You don’t
understand.”
“No, I don’t,” Merry replied, rubbing his forehead and standing up, starting to pace. “I have done nothing but love you, and try to be as good to you as I can. I messed up a few times, I know this. But I tried so, so hard to give you a good home, and everything you’ve ever asked for. What more do you want?”
Pippin shoved the pillow away and glared at Merry.
“I want time, Mer. I
want you to understand that I cannot give you everything you want, the minute
you want it! And if that includes
not buying a house--suck it up! The
world is not yours for the demanding.”
Merry threw himself down on a a chair, across the room from
Pippin. “Four years,” he said,
his voice quiet and cold and angry, and it was as though someone had lit a fire
in him. “Four damn years, and you
have had time, you’ve had time and love and my heart, and just answer
me--have I ever given you reason to believe I didn’t want to spend the
rest of my life with you?”
Now it was Pippin’s turn to get up, and stalk around the room. “No,” he said heavily. “No, Merry, you’ve given me no reason to distrust you--but can’t you understand? What--“
But, furious, Merry cut him off. “Grow. Up,” he said, angry. "Why are you so sure I'm going to leave you? All I've tried to do is show you how much I love you, how much you mean to me. How much I want you in my life. And you won't believe me. Shit, Pippin, I'm only human. I don't know what else I can do. I think I deserve more than this. I think I deserve your trust by now. I deserve something." His voice quieted suddenly, grew more dangerous, as a realization hit him. "Or is that not it? Is it that you're going to leave me?” His tone turned ugly, harsh and mocking, “Can't be forever because you don't want it to be, huh, Pip? After all, doesn't matter if you trust me or not if you don't want to stay anyway.”
Pippin sputtered for a moment, his face going red. “Merry! Can’t you even listen? I don’t--I don’t want to leave you, I don’t! It’s…I want to trust you,” he said miserably. “I want to, but I. Just. Can’t. You--I’m afraid, Merry, that you’ll be the one leaving, and why can’t you just be happy that I’m here, and I’m trying, I am Merry! I agreed to do this house-hunting thing, and I'm not even sure I want to!”
“You can't trust me?” Merry reeled, hurt. He stood, turning his back to Pippin and gripping the arm of a chair tightly. "You can’t trust me," he repeated bitterly. "You're not sure you want to live with me. And you want me to be happy about it? You're asking a whole hell of a lot there, Pippin.” Merry rounded on him, eyes blazing as his voice rose, the words coming fast and angry. “Because I'm not happy about it. I do love you, and I do want you here. But I'm tired of having to pretend. I'm tired of not being able to tell you how I feel, because it scares you. I'm fucking tired of all of it. You say you're trying? Try harder."
Pippin bit his lip hard, and Merry knew he was trying not to cry. In his anger, this only infuriated him, emphasizing Pippin’s youth, and that stupid, stupid immaturity that had brought them, finally, to this fight.
“I can't,” Pippin yelled, face red and caught between fury and tears. “I want to live with you, but do you even understand what buying a house means to me? And stop fucking yelling at me over this! If you love me so much, can’t you trust me?”
"Why should I? You
can't trust me and I'm just supposed to accept it.” A strong desire to hurt
Pippin, make him feel just how much that lack of trust stung, came over Merry. It was low, it was petty, and he couldn't bring himself to
care. He knew he'd be ashamed of it
later, but gave in anyway. “I'm
supposed to 'just be happy that you're here' remember?
That's supposed to be enough. Trust
doesn't matter to you, right?"
Pippin jerked backwards, looking like he’d just been shot, and Merry
felt a small, guilty bit of joy that Pippin finally understood.
“Merry,” he said softly, and so sadly, and it sounded like a prayer. “Merry, maybe you’re right.” He stood up slowly, though still a little bent over, hiding his face, not meeting Merry’s eyes. “Maybe I should leave.” He started for the door. “Leave you be, leave you happy, since you’re so unhappy with me.”
Anger drained in an instant, and a sick cold feeling took over his body. "Wh-what are you saying, Pippin?"
Pippin laughed, harshly. “Just what you think, Merry. You’re so damn sick of me, well, you were right. I am the one walking out, I am the one leaving. It’s been fun, I’ll pick up my stuff later.” Merry watched, caught in slow motion, as Pippin reached the door, not even turning around to face him.
How had he driven him this far? "Pippin . . ." his voice caught in his throat. "Don't, don't do this. I didn't mean for . . ." Why couldn't he find the words? It had been easy enough when anger burned hot within him. But now, for all his command of language, he could find nothing. "Don't leave. Don't just walk out. Not like this. Please, Pippin. Look at me. Talk to me. Say something."
“Goodbye,” Pippin said, and closed the door.