Chapter Text
Sam was busying himself in an attempt to scrub off ketchup that had worked it’s way into the seams of a bench cushion, when his eyes strayed to the large glass windows and his hand froze.
Of all people, strolling across the parking lot, was Merry Brandybuck. Pippin was chasing after him, hopping from one foot to another in some odd dance.
Or… no. It seems he wasn’t wearing any shoes and was trying to keep his feet off of the scorching asphalt as much as possible.
Sam weighed his options and decided he’d rather not argue about the “No Shirt No Shoes No Service” policy with two of the richest people he knows. A few months ago Merry had gotten into a heated debate with Sam’s manager when he stopped by after going for a swim. Apparently “losing your shirt down a drain pipe” was not a viable excuse and Merry made it everyone’s problem. After a lengthy argument was had and the cousin’s left with their Frosty’s, Pippin’s being exceedingly large of course, the store was contacted and informed that they would not be sued this time.
It wasn’t until later that Sam put two-and-two together, in that the cloth wrapped around Pippin’s bleedin’ leg– where he cut it while cliff-jumping by the lake– looked like awful expensive material.
And here they were again. Sam glanced back quickly to see if his manager was around. It seems not. Hopefully this will be a relatively peaceful visit.
Oh, who is he kidding?
Merry swung open the door and Pippin burst in ahead of him, skipping across the tile floor in relief.
“Oh! Blessed air-conditioned floors!” Pippin wept dramatically, sinking to his knees as his feet recovered.
“Don’t you start kissing the floors, Pip.” Merry said. “You don’t know what’s been there,”
“I do.” Said Sam. “And please don’t.”
Pippin’s face was actually a bit low to the ground, but they both turned to grin at Sam as he walked over to the counter.
“What can I get you, sirs?” He asked, glaring pointedly at Pippin’s shoe-barren feet. Pippin at least had the decency to look a little sheepish.
“Three Junior Double Bacon Hamburgers with Cheese, a large fry, a large soda, six nuggets…” Merry paused. “And a number Nine for me.”
“And a junior Frosty!”
“Chocolate.” Merry added.
“I have a coupon!”
“He has a coupon.”
“I found this one in the trash can at Panera Bread!”
“He did.”
Pippin dug around in his jacket pockets and proudly presented a crumpled Free Junior Frosty coupon. It was moist. The date hadn’t expired yet, so Sam motioned for Pippin to set it down on the counter and poked it away with a plastic fork.
“Would you like to join us for dinner, Sam?” Merry was asking.
“I’m closin’ tonight, Mr. Merry. Already had my break.”
“Fine then, Mr. Gamgee.” He huffed lightheartedly. “Don’t be so formal all the time.”
Sam bit his lip. “If bein’ less formal means wearin’ no shoes in a fast-food joint, then I think I’m okay where I am.”
Merry laughed and lightly slugged Pippin. “Not usually! He just lost them while we were driving down the highway earlier.”
“...how?”
Pippin shrugged. “Window.”
Sam nodded, not understanding. The two of them went to go find a seat, hollering more invitations for Sam to come sit with them whenever he could. The other patrons in the building were not appreciating the volume levels they were exerting.
Much to Sam’s disappointment, they were in no hurry to leave quickly. In fact, they seemed to make themselves quite at home. Merry was focused in on his laptop and Pippin was leaning against him, sprawled out, and playing on his Nintendo Switch.
Sam continued wiping down the tables. The room seemed to be mostly cleared out aside from the two cousins, a mother with her kids, and a man sitting in the corner with a hood drawn over his face. The light bulb above him had burned out. Sam would have to fix that later.
As the hour dragged on, Sam decided to finally join them for a moment, for they still made no motion to leave. Both of them had transitioned to hovering over their phones and were whispering frantically.
At last, Pippin noticed his presence and his head popped up, curls bouncing wildly.
“Sam! Would you like to help us with something?”
“Should I?”
“Merry is convinced he’s landed himself a girlfriend and is now digging his own grave trying to ask her out.”
“She’s into me!” Merry argued, his face burning.
“He’s mad that this is the one girl who won’t fall for his ‘rugged good looks and devilish charm.’”
“She has so!”
Sam realized he did not want to be a part of this discussion, but found himself asking “who’s the poor girl gettin’ mixed up in this?”
“Estella Bolger!” Pippin batted his eyelashes at Merry, who shoved him again. “Merry was friends with her brother back in middle school, and has been admiring how she’s grown over the years.”
“You make me sound like a creep.” Merry muttered. “Fatty asked me to come with him to find a good deal on a car, and Estella just so happened to be home.”
“And then you went back yesterday.”
“I was driving through the neighborhood.”
“He was looking for her.” Pippin informed Sam. “Probably was gonna try to take her for a spin in the Ferrari.”
“I was driving through the neighborhood.”
“She lives near a farm. No one drives through there willingly.”
“She needed help with her house-”
“She was cleaning out the gutters.”
“I helped her clean the gutters!”
“You held the ladder.”
“And if that isn’t love,” Merry dramatically put a hand over his heart, “I don’t know what love is.” He quickly hunched over his phone again, fingers tapping quickly. “She’s into me. I know it.”
Both Sam and Pippin looked unimpressed
(Sam also didn’t want to admit that cleanin’ out someone’s gutters did actually seem like a good gesture of affection. Albeit, Merry wasn’t the one doing the work, so it won't be gettin’ him to second base abytime soon.)
“If you’re so determined…” Pippin said after a moment. “Maybe you need to try a different approach.”
“What?” Merry looked up briefly and Pippin yanked his phone away and darted across the room. Merry shrieked and ran after him. Sam busied himself with clearing the trash off of the table.
The two of them were on the floor by the trash can, wrestling wildly. Sam thought he heard the sound of a bare foot connecting with a jaw– but he wasn’t looking, so who could say? They thrashed about for a few more moments, Merry emerging victoriously, clothes rumpled and a few bite marks on his leg. He ran past the hooded man in the booth, who had been silently watching everything.
When Sam was sure none of his supervisors were watching, he walked back over to Merry who was frantically opening instagram to see what Pippin had done.
Pippin had deleted whatever lengthy text Merry had been working on and instead sent:
Id kiss u even if u had omletts for breakfast
And i cant stand omletes
“Pippin!” Merry seethed as he frantically deleted the messages. The “seen” text had briefly popped up before disappearing again. “Peregrin Took, if it turns out she read that, I will actually strangle you.”
Pippin shyly grinned as he slid back to the table and opened Merry’s laptop. “That’s child abuse.”
“I’ll mail you back to your parents.”
“That’s child endangerment.”
“That’s what I’ll do…I’ll USPS you.” Merry grumbled.
“Ex-cuse me, I am worth Priority Express at least!”
~~
Another hour had passed. Merry had come back up to the counter a few times to redeem even more of Pippin’s Frosty coupons. He seemed to have an endless supply. The crowds had been coming and going as usual– although most people avoided the tables near the cousins. The stranger in the corner was still there, not doing anything in particular, just sitting. Ominously. Sam had half a mind to go ask him to leave– but they’ve had too many incidents with homeless people and he’d really not like to get involved again.
His thoughts were interrupted by a tall, broad man walking up to the counter. Sam greeted him, and he placed a quick order. No problem at all.
“And what’s the name for this one?”
“Boromir.”
Across the room, Pippin let out a screeching yelp, before clamping his hands over his mouth and staring at the man as if an atrocity had been committed. Boromir glanced back at him and Pippin froze.
Sam narrowed his eyes at the cousins. Merry’s gaze was darting back and forth between the two. “Alright, we’ll have that for you in just a minute, sir. Let me… go see if those two are havin’ an issue.”
He stalked over to their table.
“What is your problem?” Sam hissed.
“That’s Sean Bean.” Pippin said fearfully. Merry stifled a laugh behind his hand.
“His name’s Boromir, he just tol’ me himself. Now, if you don’t stop causing a ruckus, I’ve half a mind to just throw you out–”
Pippin was slowly lowering himself below the table. “No no, that’s him. Sean Bean is his stage name. He chose it because he thought it rhymed. Like an idiot. I’d know him anywhere.”
Merry grinned down at him. “Precarious position you’ve found yourself in, Pip.”
“Shut up Merry. You– ohhh he’s coming this way he’scomingthisway. Hide me!”
Pippin’s attempt to nosedive under the table was hindered by Merry grabbing his shirt collar– successfully choking Pippin who was now flailing for mtiple different reasons.
“Have we met?”
Everyone froze and looked up. The man– Sean Bean– Boromir was looming over all of them.
“I’m used to people screaming in my presence, but it’s usually not in terror.”
Merry was biting his lip to hide his smirk as Pippin was clawing his way in-between his cousin and the wall.
“We-we uh. Nope. No! Never met you before in my life. Are you a model? I bet you’re a model, aren’t you? I’ve probably seen you in a… a tea commercial. Or something. You have that look about you.” Pippin was floundering.
Boromir merely leaned in closer. “No, I’m sure I know who you are. You’ve got a very memorable face.”
Pippin immediately slapped his hands over his face. “No I don’t! You couldn’t pick me out in a prison lineup, I’m so undistinguished!”
“Indistinguishable.” Merry whispered. “Though, you’re not wrong I suppose.”
“What is happening?” Sam begged,
Boromir walked around to peek at the laptop screen– where Pippin had been a few moments ago. “I knew it.”
Sam walked over to see. Photoshop was open, and on the screen was a large high-res bean, with Boromir’s face edited onto it.
Pippin wailed in defeat.
This information did not help Sam whatsoever. “What–”
“This young man,” Boromir began, “has been harassing me online for months” He looked Pippin dead in the eyes. “He does nothing but spam me with Beans. My inbox is flooded. My Twitter threads are drowned in Bean edits. I think we’ve found 35 different accounts he uses simultaneously.”
“39 actually.” Pippin squeaked.
“And if I’m not mistaken– we have sent you multiple Cease and Desists.”
“And a restraining order.” Merry added, eyeing Pippin. “I told you this would come back to bite you.”
Pippin looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Or maybe it was more like a deer who had ignored the headlights, was hit by the car, and looked at you painfully from the side of the road like it didn’t understand how it had come to this.
“What are you gonna do?” He whimpered.
“Well, I could sue you, for one.”
“You can’t!” Pippin yelled. “You can’t sue a child!”
“I believe I can, actually.”
“Money is no object anyways!” Pip deflected. “It– it wouldn’t actually do anything!”
Merry held up a hand. “Money is no object for me, you mean. And I think that this is a good lesson for you.”
Pippin whipped around. “You’re betraying me?”
“The Bean Man has a point, is all I’m saying.”
“I’m too young to go to prison!” Pippin sobbed. “I’ll never go to prom! I’ll never get my first speeding ticket! I’ll never have my quinceañera!”
“You weren’t going to get a quinceañera. You have none of the qualifications.”
“And now I’ll never get the chance!”
Boromir relished in Pippin's suffering for a moment longer before clearing his throat.
“That being said, I've been talking things over with my lawyer and I think we've found a solution that everyone will be happy with.”
Pippin peeked out from his fingers Merry allowed Pip to remain partially hidden behind him as he looked at Boromir with his brows set.
“What would that be?” Merry folded his hands on the table.
“You are a very… persistent young man. you've clearly shown your dedication when pursuing a specific task–”
“What is this, a job interview?” Pippin scoffed.
“Yes, actually. I think if you could be put to work, that drive of yours could be beneficial instead of an annoyance.”
Merry gaped at him. “What on Earth would you be hiring him for?”
“Do actors need court jesters?” Sam mumbled under his breath, though the glare Merry shot him made it clear he was not as silent as he intended.
“I won't be hiring him.” Boromir clarified. “My father has been looking for more employees at the restaurant he manages, and I think hiring you could solve both his problem and mine.”
“That could be beneficial actually…” Merry pondered. Pippin was frantically shaking his head no. “Which restaurant?”
“The Mcdonald's down the street.”
~~
Sam watched the rest of the conversation unfold like it was a play. A showing of a hero, finally seeing victory after ages of torment.
And once it was all said and done, Sam said nothing when he watched Boromir walk over to the stranger in the dark corner and slip him a wad of cash.