Chapter Text
Threatening Gangs is Never a Good Idea
(You think Thorin would know that given all the mafia movies Fili and Kili make him watch)
Thorin wasn’t in a mood to deal with much today.
It was one of those days where Bofur and Dwalin stayed clear of him as much as possible, and Balin didn’t bother stopping by. Thorin never figured out how Balin always knew about his Sour Mood Days (as Fili and Kili dubbed them, the little shits); he eventually just assumed that Dwalin tipped him off.
His Sour Mood Days never really affected anything business-wise. Bofur would chat up clients, like always, Dwalin would be gruff and serious and help Thorin fix the cars. The only difference, really, was that Thorin and Dwalin didn’t work on the same car. He wasn’t mad at Dwalin, he wasn’t mad at anyone really, he was just mad, and he had the tendency to take his anger out on anything unfortunate enough to cross his path, even family and friends.
His family and friends, however, knew well enough to stay out of his way and almost never took any of his anger to heart. There was one time, before he knew better, when Bofur tried to cheer him up; he took the brunt of Thorin’s anger that day. Thorin apologised profusely, and his cheery co-worker assured him it was fine, and he never treated Thorin any different, but that day still remains the longest Thorin had ever seen Bofur without a smile.
“We’ll see you next week then, mate!” Bofur’s pleasant drawl signaled the departure of their client, and the shop fell into a busy silence.
“Appointment next Tuesday!” Bofur shouted over the sound of scraping metal and rolling trolley wheels. He penned a reminder messily into the day planner on the front counter before joining Dwalin.
“Bollocks,” Dwalin cursed, “Bofur, snag a lug wrench on your way over, yeah?” Bofur grabbed the lug wrench from the top of the tool box as he passed and threw it at Dwalin, who caught it without looking. Bofur gave an excited whoop at the successful exchange, which quickly melted into the silence of the shop.
After several hours of quiet work, all three men jumped at the sound of the door chime.
Thorin was already standing and waved off Bofur, who was standing to answer the door. Thorin wiped his hands on his jeans, leaving streaks of grease, but he could hardly bring himself to care.
Walking past the front desk, Thorin opened the dark wood-and-glass door to greet a small man with spindly arms.
"Can I help you?" Thorin asked, with as much politeness he could muster at that point.
"Mr Oakenshield, I presume." He looked up at Thorin when he spoke. There was a sickly way to the man's voice, almost as if he could break into a cough at any time.
"Who's asking?" There was something about the man that put Thorin ill at ease, so he stood tense in the doorway as the man gave him a searching look.
“I come as a representative from the Fire Drakes, Mr Oakenshield.” The man bowed, but Thorin was already walking back inside.
“I don’t do business with the Drakes,” Thorin spat, trying to slam the door closed. The man put his foot in the door and shouldered it open with a strength that surprised Thorin greatly. “You have exactly 30 seconds to get off my property.”
“No need to be so hostile, Mr Oakenshield.” The man tutted, as if Thorin was being difficult. “The Fire Drakes care greatly about their community and only wish to help. There are not many police patrols around these parts, Mr Oakenshield. The Fire Drakes are offering protection.”
“Protection from what?” Thorin laughed aloud, without mirth.
“There are many dangers in communities such as this one.” The man’s eyes flashed dangerously. “You would do well to remember that misfortune does not discriminate.”
“You’re not offering protection, you’re threatening families and businesses out of their money.” Thorin spit on the ground, nearly hitting the man’s shoe. “Take your protection elsewhere.”
“I greatly suggest that you reconsider, Mr Oakenshield.” The man smiled like a salesman who knew he was losing, though it was colder and more cruel.
“You alright out here, mate?” Bofur appeared at Thorin’s side, leveling the man at the door with a challenging stare.
“Heard a bit of a scuffle with the door.” Dwalin loomed behind Bofur; he also looked at the man, indifferent.
“I can see you are busy.” The man retreated with a bow. “Another time, Mr Oakenshield.” With that, he left down the street and disappeared around the corner.
"What was he on about?" Bofur thought aloud once the man was out of sight.
"A representative from the Red Drakes," Thorin sneered. A low whistle from Dwalin brought their attention to the taller man.
"I’ve heard of them," Dwalin answered their questioning stares. "They're bad news."
"Good thing you sent him away then, yeah, Thorin?"
"Maybe." Dwalin glowered at nothing in particular. "Watch yourself, Thorin. The Drakes are trouble."
And Thorin thought his mood couldn't get any worse.
When Fili and Kili burst through the door to Thorin's flat later than night, it was nearly midnight. They were laughing and stumbling through the front room. Thorin glared at them from his spot on the couch.
"Have a care, you two," Thorin groused. "It's late."
"You aren't even sleeping," Kili countered, flopping down in an armchair opposite him. Fili sat on him and Kili flailed and whinged.
"Where have the two of you been, anyway?" Thorin asked, because these were the kinds of questions that concerned family asked, he supposed.
"We had tea with Ori and his family." Fili replied as his brother struggled to push him off. He landed on the floor with a thump and a victorious shout from Kili.
"It's been weeks and Ori finally convinced Mr Boggins to visit him at home," Kili added after he settled. "We got invited too!"
"How was it?" Thorin asked earnestly. It was obvious his boys had fun and he couldn't begrudge them their happiness.
"Nori taught me to pick locks!" Kili yelled excitedly. Thorin sent a silent prayer that Kili was awful at it and made a mental note to strangle Nori.
"The food was good." Fili pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, like when he was little and listening to a good story. "I got to play my fiddle a bit, too."
“And I can’t imagine Nori having any kind of gathering without alcohol,” Thorin added, mostly to himself.
“Yeah, we drank a couple beers.” When Kili didn’t add a comment both men looked to find him asleep, curled up in the chair.
“You nearly tripped over the rug on the way in,” Thorin snorted. “I’m willing to bet you had more than ‘a couple beers.’”
“I’m not drunk,” Fili insisted with a slur. Thorin couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose or not.
“It’s only Thursday, doesn’t Kili have class tomorrow?” Thorin set his papers aside and stood up with a stretch. Fili hummed in agreement.
“He has practice, too.” Fili stood on wobbly legs as Thorin moved over to shake Kili awake. When he blinked awake Thorin gave a small smile at his bleary face.
“Go to bed, Kili.”
Kili lifted himself from the armchair, and stumbled up the stairs to the room he an Fili shared. After a yawn and a ‘good night, uncle’ Fili followed him up, and Thorin was left alone in the front room. With a determined set to his shoulders, he poured himself another cup of coffee and set back to getting through his paperwork.
