Chapter Text
Rain. Again. Ironic how the weather often seems to fit him, as cloudy as his mind, and as grey and dull as he feel. Bilbo tightens his grip on the mug in his hands, feeling the heat warm his cold fingers, and the fragrance of the fruity tea with too much honey steam up in to his nose, lifting his mood if only a little.
He sighs into his mug before taking a large sip, relishing in how the liquid burns his throat, warming his body from the inside. The skies are closer when he again looks out of the large windows in the living room of his small, Victorian house. Well, Gandalf’s house of course. He has never understood how Gandalf is always able to help, but a house all to himself instead of one of those small, uncomfortable student flats while he is here to study, is something he could never say no to.
Thunder roars somewhere in the distance. Even darker skies rolls towards Herne Bay, ready to make Auckland darker and wetter than it already is. Bilbo curls his toes in and out inside his large woollen socks. They're his father’s socks, or, used to be his. His mother used to complain about how cold his feet always were, making a new pair of large, fluffy woollen socks every year as soon as the cold arrived.
Oh. His mother. His beloved Belladonna.
She had called him a week ago. Told him of his neighbours and cousins, of his little cousin Frodo, the 1 year old who happily walks around and talks to everyone he meets. It had been so good to hear her voice again, her happy, rolling laughter. But it didn’t take long before her strong, cheerful voice had turned serious, heavy and tearful.
“I don’t want to worry you; I know you struggle with school and got your mind full of things. But I have postponed this long enough I believe.”
He had managed to pull it out of her, after minutes of heavy silence and “is something wrong? What’s wrong? Please, tell me!”
He had stumbled backwards into the closest wall when the words “breast" and "cancer” had escaped his mother’s lips. Sliding down until he reached the floor, tucking his legs close to himself, his head resting on his knees. He had had trouble breathing, and cried until the tears ran out.
“Bilbo! There’s a reason why I am calling you now!” his mother had yelled into the phone.Then she had laughed. Told him she would most likely have to remove her breasts, but it wouldn’t be much change since there wasn’t much to remove anyway. Bilbo couldn’t understand how she was able to laugh.
She had of course known how he would react. And not long after the phone call, Gandalf had walked in and found him curled up like a ball against the wall in the living room.
It pains him not to be able to go home. He had made sure to leave a good amount of hours between his home, and his now new home. He have to take a plane to get there. It had been good in the beginning, he had enjoyed being on his own, having a whole house for himself, and being able to do what he wanted when he wanted. Almost right beside his house, on the other side of a few trees and another house, is a beach. The feeling of sand under his toes, and view over Cooks Bay always manage to pull his lips into a smile. He had enjoyed experiencing a much bigger, and new city, and loved exploring it. The adventures he have in the big city now, is the bus ride to the centre to get to school, with the occasional stroll to grab a cup of tea or smoothie and pastry, or do some shopping.
It has been 1.5 year. 1.5 good years. Apart from the moments where his sombre mood and anxiety got the best of him. Like today. He longs for home, his mother, and the mountains. Friends as well, now that Ori has finished school and gone back to Queenstown, he is even more alone than before.
But it does no good to wallow in anything and everything. Dragging a hand through his sandy coloured curls, he sighs again as he looks at the darken sky before turning around, heading for the kitchen.
Happy he had made a chocolate cake earlier; he cuts off a large slice and make another cup of tea, before shuffling back to the living room. He wraps a blanket around himself, enjoying the warmth and comfort as well as the chocolate, until he falls asleep curled up in the sofa.
**
Days filled with not much other than rain, has finally passed. Instead, he’s halfway through the semester and exams is coming up, making him yet again feel stressed, drained, and anxious. Only one year left. One year filled with papers, exams, reading and writing. Considering it is a writer he wants to be, it’s no surprise. Yet school leave him with little joy, making him read and write of subjects he have little interest in. Tired of always having to do what is expected of him, not being able to read and write about what he is actually interested in, leaves him no inspiration nor motivation when he have the time to do so since he's already written so much he can’t come up with a story.
Putting all his thoughts of school in the back of his mind, Bilbo notices how full Albert Park really is. Midday, the sun is warming considerably, but thankfully a pleasant warmth. Gandalf has asked to meet him for lunch; if he shows up is uncertain. Either way, the day is young and Bilbo is determined to enjoy it no matter what. He has been stuck in his little house for what feels like weeks, making it harder to make his way to the university and centre of Auckland, going from being all alone for several days to surrounded by people is never easy.
He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and enjoys the sun burning his skin. The smell of summer, and the sound of the fountain close by for some reason making him calmer.
“My dear Bilbo!” a voice exclaims. Bilbo opens his eyes, and smiles when he see Gandalf approaching. His grey, short hair is neatly combed back, and his usual grey suit exchanged with a pair of light cotton trousers and grey shirt.
“You came.”
“I bring you lunch, and this is what I get. Of course I came,” Gandalf huffs as he sits down on the bench.
“You’ve stood me up before you know,” Bilbo chuckles, “oh don’t look at me like that, I’m glad you’re here, uncle.”
Bilbo lets out a pleasant sigh after taking his first bite of the small meat pie Gandalf brought him.
“You spoil me,” he says, taking another big bite, savouring the lovely taste of perfect pastry and meaty fill. It reminds him of home.
“Only the best for you, my boy,” Gandalf chuckles as he bites into his own pie.
“So tell me, how are you?”
Bilbo stops chewing. He is always so curious, and always has to ask or say something that makes Bilbo’s mood slowly turn again.
“Good,” Bilbo replies around a mouthful. Gandalf looks over at him, arching one of his bushy brows.
“I know you’re not going to leave me alone before I tell, I might as well get it over with,” he sighs. “Mum’s going in for surgery soon, Ori went home to Queenstown a few weeks ago since he’s done with school, and school is stressful and drains me, leaving me with no energy or inspiration to write my own stories. I dropped one of my favourite mugs the other day, covering your tiles in tea and shards.”
“I never really do anything, I'm lonely and I want to go home,” he whispers, stuffing the rest of the pie in his mouth.
"I want to see mountains again, Gandalf, mountains."
Gandalf sighs and hands him a napkin, followed by another paper bag that make Bilbo’s eyes widen. Croissant with hazelnut filling. He moans when the pastry melts on his tongue, no longer feeling so vulnerable and bad for telling someone how he really is feeling.
“Almost two years have passed, and they've flown by, soon this year is over as well and you can finally go back home. You’re a good lad, Bilbo, a strong one too. I know you’ve had a few rough years, with your father’s passing, moving out, school, now your mother is ill.” Gandalf sighs and lays a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “It’s not so bad living here, now is it,” he chuckles.
“You’ll be fine, enjoy it while you can. I’m going South soon because of business, I’ll be looking after your mum then,” he says and smiles, tightening his grip on the shoulder before letting go.
“Thank you,” Bilbo says and swallows the last bit of croissant before licking his fingers.
“Lunch again in two days?”
“I’ll be here,” Bilbo says with a small smile, watching Gandalf toss the paper bags in the bin before leaving him alone on the bench with his thoughts once again.
No, it isn’t so bad living here, he thinks. He like the hustle and bustle of the city, the excitement of finding new places, like a café or bookstore, as well as the feeling of being able to walk around without anyone knowing you, or caring about who you are and where you’re going. He like university as well, but it’s still school.
Most of all, Bilbo likes his house. It’s old, but still modern, yet homely and comfortable, just how he likes it. With dark wooden floors, white walls, heavy burgundy rugs in the hallway and living room. He doesn’t have much furniture, but the wooden dining table and chairs, bookshelves, 46” TV as well as the large sofa Gandalf had bought before Bilbo moved in, make his little living room perfect. The kitchen’s small, but with room for a white table and two chairs, and as long as he is able to cook, bake, and make tea, he doesn’t care for the size nor how the room really look. His bedroom is sparse, and not much more than a bed to fill the space. What he likes best, is the small second floor and the veranda up there, the armchair he can sit and read in, and enjoy the view over the bay.
Bilbo stretches his legs and get up from the bench. He has already been out for a few hours, a walk around the centre and some grocery shopping would only do him good before he go back home.
**
Friday, and again he sits on the usual bench by the fountain, waiting for Gandalf. Bilbo pulls his burgundy cardigan tighter around himself; it’s warm but still colder than what it had been on Wednesday, also making him exchange his dark blue shorts into brown chinos.
“Of course he’s not showing up,” Bilbo mutters to himself after waiting for almost half an hour.
“You’re waiting for someone?” a rich voice next to him asks.
Bilbo jumps at the voice, turning to see who’s sitting next to him. In all his annoyance of Gandalf not showing up, he hasn’t paid attention to anything around him, apparently not even noticing someone sitting down on the same bench. Someone so utterly handsome Bilbo realises he has been staring for longer than what would be considered normal when the man starts to chuckle.
“Ah, ehm, yes,” he stutters, “you too?”
“Aye, but Gandalf’s known to not always show up, so I don’t know why I even did.”
Bilbo furrows his brow, “you… You know Gandalf?”
Why would Gandalf ask to meet him if he was going to meet someone else? Also, why isn’t that old man bothering to meet either of them?
“You’re waiting for him as well? How kind of him to not meet with either of us.” The man huffs a laugh.
“Thorin,” he says holding out his hand.
“Bilbo.”
His small hand fit perfectly in Thorin’s, and he wonders how it would be to cuddle with this large man, or just holding his hand. Or having Thorin’s large, muscled arm around his shoulders. His cheeks quickly grow warm when he realise he has held on to Thorin’s hand for a while, and was again staring at him. Bilbo slowly pull his hand back into his lap, awkwardly clearing his throat as he does, only to earn a chuckle and smirk by Thorin.
“Well, I… I need to get going,” he says and stands up. “It was nice meeting you, I’ll see you around,” he says with a smile and walks away before Thorin is able to say much more than ‘likewise’, and reaches into his pocket to get his phone.
Of course something had come up, and Gandalf hadn’t been able to meet him, nor tell him he wasn’t coming.
“Yes, yes alright. I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Bilbo sighs and hangs up, frowning as he puts the phone back in his pocket.
**
Feeling the sun almost burn his legs through the dark trousers, Bilbo is glad he had put on a light, grey t-shirt, almost ripping his button-up shirt off to get changed when he realised how warm it was outside. Walking up Queen Street, he’s confident Gandalf won’t show up today either. However, he’s not so cruel he won’t at least wait a few minutes to see if he actually does, and then he will head to Whitcoulls to spend his money on books before grabbing lunch somewhere. Lost in his own thoughts, he strolls up the street, and before he’s done making plans for his entire lazy Saturday, walks straight into someone.
Unable to properly react and focus on what’s going on, strong hands grab his arms before he stumbles further backwards with the risk of falling. Catching his breath, Bilbo peers up, his eyes landing on shiny, blue ones, the crinkles around the eyes growing more and more visible as the man in front of him let out a laugh.
Why would it be anyone else than the man he met yesterday, of course he had to walk straight into Thorin. The man is looking gorgeous in a dark t-shirt that emphasises his eye colour, and is the perfect colour against his slightly tanned skin, dark hair, and black trousers, and in his hand is a leather jacket. Now that, must look great on him, Bilbo thinks.
“I apologise, guess I rounded that corner a bit too fast,” Thorin says.
He releases the grip on Bilbo’s arms, and Bilbo almost lets out a small whine at the loss of the comfortable warmth.
“It’s... Ah... It’s alright,”
“Please don’t tell me you’re also supposed to meet Gandalf?”
Bilbo furrows his brow. Gandalf not showing up was one thing, him making Thorin meet him at the same time… What is that old man planning?
“I take your expression as a yes then,” Thorin chuckles.
“Yes, eh, yes, I was supposed to meet him actually. You as well?”
Thorin nods, and there is that smirk again.
Bilbo shakes his head. His smile, those eyes, not to forget those broad shoulders, strong hands, lovely beard, and dark hair, have been on his mind since he first laid eyes on the man yesterday. It won’t do him any good thinking such thoughts, he can always try, but he really doesn’t have the confidence to believe this man would be interested in him. No. He'll just have to accept the fact that Gandalf has stood him up and made a fool of him yet again, see the man go, and spend the rest of his weekend wallowing in his ridiculous self-pity along with an unhealthy amount of green tea and whatever cake he will whip up in the kitchen tonight.
“I was indeed,” Thorin says as he looks around.
Bilbo stuffs his hands in his pockets, kicking the pavement under his feet.
“Well, just because he’s decided to abandon us today as well, doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy this day now that we’re out.”
“Ah, yes, true enough. I hope you have a good day then,” Bilbo says and straightens up. All plans forgotten, he gets ready to walk down one of the streets close by.
“Hey,” Thorin grabs his arm just when Bilbo is about to walk past the man.
“I didn’t mean you had to go.”
Looking up at him from under his curls, Bilbo frowns. As Thorin, for the second time already, let go of his arm, Bilbo opens his mouth to ask what he meant, only to be cut off by Thorin.
“I meant, you were also probably supposed to have lunch with Gandalf, so I guess you, like me, are hungry.”
“I am, but what...”
“Will you have lunch with me?”
Bilbo’s eyes widens. Thorin is actually interested in spending time with him. He looks at the man in front of him, the smile tugging on his lips when Thorin shifts from one foot to another, his smile shyer and not quite so confident now.
“I’d love to.”
His cheeks grow warm, and his smile wider, as Thorin’s eyes almost twinkle and disappear when his smile grows.
“Good!” he exclaims and starts to walk. Bilbo feel his heart speed up as he follows Thorin across the street, almost nauseated by more and more butterflies filling his stomach. Other than Gandalf, the last person he had hung out with was Ori.
Whom had moved back home two months ago.
Crossing another street, Bilbo swallows heavily and looks up at the Sky Tower now standing proud and tall right before him.
“Where are going?” he asks just as he crash with Thorin’s back.
“Oh dear, I am so sorry, I-… I’ll try not to walk into you any more today.”
Thorin laughs and turns around.
“Up there.”
Bilbo follows Thorin’s gaze. Of course he is dragging him with him to the top of the Sky tower.
Bilbo looks out over Auckland. Despite the slight fright of being so high up, he has to admit the view is stunning. The sun is shining, ocean sparkling, and the city steaming with life. In front of him, Thorin has pulled out a chair, motioning for him to sit down. He unclenches his hands, realising he’s been holding onto the hem of his t-shirt, and walks over to Thorin.
His eyes grow wide when looking through the glass that now is right next to him, the view really is beautiful.
“Please don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights,” Thorin chuckles nervously.
Bilbo’s head snaps up, his gaping mouth turning into a smile.
“Oh, I, no not really. I’ve just never been up here, never been so high up before, well except when flying of course." Bilbo looks out over Auckland again, and the sparkling blue ocean, it’s as if he’s still staring into Thorin’s eyes. He smiles and looks back at him, accepting the menu in Thorin’s hand.
Bilbo can feel his stomach rumble, the list of delicious dishes making his mouth water. The lunch dishes seem to Bilbo to be more fancy, dinner dishes, but being Saturday; he flips the menu over to look at the brunch options.
Thorin lets out a small laugh when Bilbo’s stomach yet again growl.
“Oh dear,” Bilbo laughs and put down the menu.
“We better order before it protests again,” Thorin says and gestures for a waiter to come.
It doesn’t take long before the food arrive, and the table is filled. Bilbo raise a brow as Thorin’s food is placed before him, never has he seen fried egg on a burger, but it does look delicious. His own food definitely seem delicious; egg, honey cured bacon, sausages, tomatoes, mushrooms. It reminds him instantly of home, and his mother’s own cooking. He quickly take a forkful; turning red the moment he realise he has let out a tiny moan. Thorin laughs, earning a slightly evil look by Bilbo, but another bite of the burger also make him hum in satisfaction.
Bilbo looks from Thorin and the waiter gathering their plates, to the glass surrounding him.
“It.. It moved. It moved while we ate,” he says with wide eyes and look out over the city, a different part of the city this time, and with full view over Devonport.
“This part of the tower rotates once every hour, letting you have the chance to see even more!” Thorin says with a smile.
The waiter comes back again, Bilbo is still gaping at the view not noticing her presence.
“Bilbo, could I buy you a glass of wine?”
Bilbo turns his head to look at Thorin, “sorry, what?” he ask, glancing down at his hand when he notice the heat. Thorin has gently laid his hand on his to get his attention. Seeing it slide away, Bilbo is tempted to grab it and hold on to it. The feeling of Thorin’s large, warm hand on his own, make his stomach flutter.
“A glass of wine?”
“ Oh, oh yes, thank you. White please.”
“One of your own, mister Durin?” the waiter ask.
“Yes please, this year’s Sauvignon Blanc.”
Before Bilbo is able to ask, or even think of what it was he wanted to ask, two glasses appear between them, along with two plates with pecan pie, chocolate ice cream, brandy custard and strawberries. Deciding to taste the wine before attacking his lovely, unexpected dessert, Bilbo take a small sip, quickly followed by two bigger ones.
“Oh,” he sighs happily enjoying the taste.
“Do you like it?”
“Fruity, fresh and not too dry, just how I like.”
The waiter smiles and fill Thorin’s glass.
“I’m glad you enjoy it, I do appreciate this wine myself,” Thorin says.
Bilbo notices the bottle in the corner of his eye, turning to get a better look at it. The bottle is dark green, with a golden label decorated with a mountain. Noticing the elegant writing, Bilbo furrow his brow as he read “Durin Estate.”
He looks over at Thorin, opening his mouth to ask; he had just heard the waiter call him Durin, hadn’t he?
“Not only do I drink wine master Baggins, I make it as well!” Thorin says, unable to hide a large grin. The waiter re-fills Bilbo’s glass, smirking as she walks away again.
“You,” Bilbo looks down into his glass, “you made this?”
“Aye, I did. Well, might not have picked the grapes and such myself but. My family owns a winery, in Queenstown,” Thorin replies and takes a sip as well.
“You certainly did a great job,” Bilbo says into his glass before almost emptying it yet again, Thorin’s deep laughter making his heart beat slightly faster.
“Wait,” he says abruptly, “Queenstown?”
“That’s where I’m from,” Thorin says with a smile, visibly fond of his hometown.
“I’m... I’m from Queenstown as well.”