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"Here. Let me."
Pippin put the soap in Merry's hands and let him wash his back. Neither spoke. There had been no need for words since Gandalf's death. Each knew what the other was thinking. They always had.
Merry allowed his hands to travel further than Pippin's back. He engulfed the young hobbit, wrapping his arms around him, his slippery hands moving downwards.
Pippin tilted his head back a little, and a small groan escaped him. Merry kissed his wet neck, giving the kind of comfort only he could give.
"I love you, Merry," came the stifled cry minutes later.