Chapter Text
Bilbo hated to rush. He’d always ended up running out his door last minute, still tucking his shirt in while at the same time trying to tame his curls before work. After so many days of waking up late, he should have been ready for this, but he managed to forget his handkerchief for the third day in a row. More importantly, in the blur of that stressful morning run to school, he realized he had forgotten to eat his breakfast. Buttered toast and coffee were now left on the counter, possibly already gone thanks to his cat.
With barely enough money left to buy tonight’s dinner, Bilbo stumbled into the coffee shop next door to his school, praying there’d be something cheap and filling for his stomach. The sight he ran into was most definitely filling.
Literally, ran into.
He stumbled back, apologizing profusely to the body he just ran face first into. As he looked up, though, he began to stutter. The most beautiful brown eyes met his. Dark hair clipped back, bangs now a mess, teal scrubs now stained brown, matching his own blue sweater. “Oh bloody hell, I’m so sorry!” He cried, frozen at the sight.
“No, no, don’t bother. I have a spare in my car.” Said the stranger, smoothing out his top.
“I’m so sorry, let me at least buy you…” but his words trailed off as he heard the door bells jingle and just like that, the man was gone. He stood for a moment, mouth agape, before he remembered himself and the fact that he was already late enough. I suppose I’ll just have to take this sweater off and wear what’s underneath today. He thought to himself. At least it’s a nice shade of yellow.. If only I left that brown jacket in my classroom.
—————-
What a miserable start to his morning. He had been kept up all night listening to his stupid cousin argue with his stupid mother over some stupid television show, and now he couldn’t even enjoy a coffee.
Slamming his car door, he reached into the backseat for a spare shirt and found none. I’ll have to beg Legolas or something. This is going to be a terrible day, he thought as he fastened his seatbelt and sped off. Maybe work would be miserable enough to distract him from those bright eyes and that pale skin that flushed so beautifully. Those pointy ears poking out of those golden curls might be the death of him.
————-
Tossing the remains of his breakfast in the trash, Bilbo plopped down at his kitchen table with a huff. The rest of his day had gone better, but now being alone led his thoughts back to that morning.
How embarrassing, he thought, I ruined a mans day. How terrible. I don’t even know if I can handle eating dinner after this. At that thought, he got up, dusted himself off, and began preparing his dinner.
He would eat a meal, think about how he could have made it better, think about the classwork he has to grade, wait for his housemate to get home, and head to bed. His cat, Smeagol, would not pester him over having more dinner that night.
————-
Kili threw his keys onto the kitchen counter and opened up the fridge, grabbing the milk. Although he knew it was wrong, he still preferred to drink his milk straight out of the carton when he got home from a stressful day. He might get smacked over the head for it, but it was worth it.
“Busy day?” Came a deep voice from behind him. After his father passed away, his uncle had happily invited them to move in with him. Almost ten years later and they hadn’t left. It had been for the best, Kili and his brother needing someone else to step up when their mother couldn’t. Fili especially resembles their father, and sometimes that was too much for her. But time had done its thing, healing broken hearts. Nowadays, Uncle Thorin was just their grumpy old man, and their mother was just their teasing old mother.
“I guess you could say that. Busy.”
“You weren’t wearing a tight shirt with cartoon trees on it when you left this morning. What happened?”
Kili huffed, he had been hoping to not have to talk about it, “just had an accident with my coffee this morning is all. Don’t worry about it.”
“An accident?”
“I said don’t worry about it.”
“Thorin what is taking you so- Kili Durin! What did I tell you about drinking out of the carton? And what the hell are you wearing?” His mother’s voice dropped heavily in disgust towards the end of that sentence, forcing a quiet chuckle out of Thorin. She snatched the milk out of Kili’s hands, putting in back in the fridge, then turned to examine his choice of clothing. Shaking her head, she added: “This won’t do, go change. Please, you look ridiculous.”
“Is Fili home?”
“No, he’s still babysitting. Said he won’t be home til late, sorry. I bet he’ll wake the whole house when he gets home though. And Thorin,” she pointed at said man, raising her eyebrows, “for the love of Mahal, stop keeping my son up late! I’m tired of you two and Dwalin blasting the television all night!”
Thorin seemed to shrink where he was standing, as Dis was the only one who could do that to him. He feared no one, being bigger than most people with a glare that could kill, but not even he was brave enough to defend himself against his sister. Or stupid enough.
Kili sighed, disappointed with the lack of his best friend, and excused himself. He went off to his bedroom, rummaging through piles on the floor for anything wearable, as the memories of this morning came back. What was with that guy? He looked at me as if I was the one who ran into him! I wonder what he ordered after I left… you’re so stupid, Kili… he smelled like flowers.. I wonder if he’ll ever show his face there again.
Upon finding a fresh change of clothes, he went off to shower and suffer through the rest of his night listening to arguing and loud television.
———-
The next morning, Bilbo made sure to be ready. He woke up early, picked out his favorite green sweater with a white shirt peeking out from underneath, messed with his hair for no less than fifteen minutes, and headed out the door. With thirty minutes until he had to be somewhere, a stomach already full from scrambled eggs, and enough money for two coffees, he carefully made his way into the coffeeshop.
Taking a moment to look around, he found no trace of the stranger. Even going as far as to wait twenty minutes at a table, only leaving for work.
Why’d I even bother. This is so pathetic! He thought miserably. Taking the time to fix his hair? So that he could look presentable, for what? A stranger who he spilled coffee all over? All he came here to do was offer to buy the man’s coffee. And his own. And maybe talk to him. Talk, as in apologize, of course.. and somehow this day had now been off to a worse start than the one before.
But not all hope was lost.