A/N: Set at the point when Merry + Pippin are waiting for the Tree-herds to come to a decision, a little slashed extension of that part.

Strange Habits

'Merry, there's no hope. They won't listen to us.'

'But why not?' He asked, frustrated, then turned back to the Ents 'Why not!' He screamed. His breathing became heavier and his expression set, as he built himself up to another round of shouting and yelling that still wouldn't get them anywhere. Before he could open his mouth again however, it was covered by gentle but irresistible fingers that held it shut, effectively rendering him speechless for the moment. Pippin rarely used force, but he knew how to make one of his friends fall silent in an instant.

Merry continued to draw short, angry breaths, each coming out in a hot puff over Pippin's hand. Pip began to lead them away from the group of Ents, over to one of the trees where they had been sitting, waiting, earlier. As much as Merry was annoyed and angry, there was no part of him that made any effort to even consider removing the hand away from his mouth – either he knew it was for the best, or something else unconsciously told him to leave the gentle contact as it was.

After a short moment while Merry kept on fuming and Pippin considered how soft the skin pressed against his palm felt, he regained his own sense and removed the hand back down to his side. A pause, then he attempted talking to his friend once again.

'Merry?' No reply. He tried again, 'Meriadoc Brandybuck, calm down will you?' He heard a self-pitying sniff. Sighing, he stepped closer to his friend and wrapped both arms around him from behind, resting his chin on Merry's shoulder. 'They don't just understand it all yet.'

'What do we know that they don't? What can we possibly do, Pippin?'

The younger sighed heavily again as he contemplated how to answer. As he took his time, Merry lent back into his grasp and let his eyes flutter shut, a rising fear that they were stuck without help or friends slowly spreading throughout his mind.

'They'll work it out eventually. Saruman can't have left the forest untouched…' Merry let out a murmur of agreement, his defences having dissolved into the comforting touch.

They both turned their heads towards each other to say something, remembering too late how close they were standing. Their noses touched, their lips came within a breath of contact before they gasped in unison and jumped back. A moment passed as Pippin stared at the ground, his arms now feeling heavy as they weren't snugly around Merry's waist, Merry's back feeling cold as Pippin's warmth had been removed. Another pause, then the younger whispered,

'I'd give anything to make you feel better.'

'Even yourself?'

He paused. 'Yes.'

He hadn't been expecting the sudden reaction to be quite so forceful. He found himself pinned against the tree, rough bark digging sharply into his back and Merry, bearing down on top with a force he'd never witnessed – his lips now kissing every inch of skin he could reach, his hands dominating and protecting and needing, scrambling frantically at Pippin's shirt to pull it open while Pip tried to respond.

A short distance away, back in the clearing, the Ents were still unhurriedly discussing it all in their equally slow language. During a brief pause (in their terms, no less), Treebeard looked over to the hasty folk under the trees as if to check on them, but was mildly surprised when he saw the pair tightly wrapped up, lips pressed together frantically.

'Strange habits, these hobbits have.' Treebeard mused.

Neither heard him as he looked away again. Pippin had managed to spin Merry around so now he was flat against the tree and Pip had control, enjoying the power, the excitement that this new position had. Merry, however, had the chance to stop, think, and realise – oh god – what they were actually doing. No matter how much he'd always wanted it.

'This isn't right.'

'Umm hmm.'

'We're cousins.'

'Mmmm.'

'I'm older and would be taking advantage.'

'Yuh huh.'

'Pip? … oh god Pippin…'

He wasn't listening anymore as Merry's voice trailed off into a series of short, heavy breaths. Pip was down on his knees, distracting whatever words might roll off Merry's tongue with the warm air flittering over the hem of his trousers, the gentle pressure of those hands dancing up his legs. Merry's eyes closed tightly, leaning his head back and just let the sensations overwhelm him, heat exploding behind his eyes, wondering if they could attend Entmoots more often.

Fin.