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Bilbo picked up the phone on the sixth ring. Nobody called these days anymore, so what did it matter if a telemarketer had to wait a little longer to receive an answer. “Yes?” he barked, turning the dial of the stove down.
“Mr Baggins?” a cheerful voice on the other end asked.
“Speaking,” Bilbo grumbled, removing the pot from the flame and switching his phone to the other hand so he could stir the sauce.
“Mr Baggins, this is Ori from CurlyTales. I’m calling because your hair appointment started five minutes ago, and we have only fifteen minute hold policy before we allow walk-ins to take the spot. Are you on your way?”
Bilbo froze mid movement, feeling his stomach drop. Bollocks! He quickly pulled the phone away from his ear and checked the display. No notifications. He must have forgotten to save his next appointment in the calendar.
“Mr Baggins?” a distant voice echoed from the speaker as Bilbo pressed the phone back to his ear.
“Yes, I’m here. I mean, not here, but I’m on my way!”
“Wonderful. I’ll inform your stylist.”
Bilbo dropped the spatula as he looked desperately around. “Yes, yes, great. I’ll see you in, uh, ten minutes!”
“Lovely. See you soon, Mr Baggins!” the receptionist trilled and hung up.
“Shit!” Bilbo swore, wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans. This was just what he bloody needed. He was half way through cooking lunch, his hair smelled like garlic, and even if he ran, he’d never make it to the hairdressers in time. Why the hell did he say that he’ll be there in ten minutes?!
“Curse you and your nervous blabbing,” he muttered, frantically checking that none of the stove tops were still on before rushing into the bedroom to fetch a fresh shirt. Bilbo was not a runner, so his best bet was to haul a cab if he could find one. Locking the door to his flat, he pulled on his jacket and rushed out into the street, trotting towards the main road where his chances to find transportation quickly were significantly higher.
It took about two minutes for a black cab to pass by, and Bilbo almost pulled a muscle with how furiously he had to wave to stop it. Wrenching the door open, he jumped into the back. “474 North Street,” he panted, smiling apologetically at the bored driver.
The young man raised his eyebrows, giving Bilbo an obviously unimpressed once over. His eyes lingered on his plump middle and soft chin. “Alright,” he uttered, smirking as he pulled away from the curb.
Bilbo frowned, knowing exactly what was going on through the driver's head. The address he gave was barely a five minute drive, and nobody in their right mind would pay to take a cab for such a short walking distance. He opened his mouth to explain indignantly that this was a matter of urgency, and that he was late to an important appointment, when the drive spoke.
“So you injured or something?”
Bilbo was just about to shake his head, when he paused. This was, after all, the perfect excuse handed to him on a silver platter. So what if it wasn’t true? A little white lie never hurt anybody. Not to mention that it was none of the bloke’s business why did Bilbo have to take a cab in the first place.
“Sure,” he said, nodding curtly. “I hurt my knee.”
The driver grunted in reply and turned at the intersection, pulling across the street from CurlyTales. Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief that there was no need for an awkward conversation, and checked his watch, confirming that he still had two minutes to spare. He handed the driver a banknote and got out, waiting for him to drive away, but the man pulled out his phone and switched the “taxi” sign off, leaning back as he typed out a message. Great.
Bilbo rolled his eyes and started walking towards the hair saloon, quickly faking a small limp when he remembered his supposed “injury”. He saw the driver’s head turn as he watched him cross the street and pull open the glass door.
The receptionist smiled widely when he saw Bilbo walk in, but his expression turned worried when he noticed the limp. “Mr Baggins, my goodness what happened?” He got up and quickly rushed to Bilbo, offering an arm to guide him to one of the chairs.
Bilbo felt like was going to scream. Well, it seems he’s injured now. “Oh it’s nothing,” he muttered, trying to push the fussing man away with no luck.
“Is it your leg? I should call an ambulance, shouldn't I?” the receptionist wondered, and Bilbo turned white at the idea.
“No, it’s nothing! Really, I just.. Well I…” he cast his mind around wildly and noticed someone passing on a bicycle outside. “I collided with someone on a bike and banged my knee, that’s all.” He was just digging himself deeper and deeper, wasn’t he?
The young receptionist winced. “Goodness me, I’m not surprised. Some of these cyclist go like maniacs these days, don’t they? Is that why you were late?”
Yes,” Bilbo nodded, holding onto the excuse like it was a lifeline. “Yes, exactly! So you see, it was just a little accident, nothing to worry about.”
“Are you sure you’re okay? Only, you hear about these things when older people hit their head and then few hours later they drop dead, don’t they? I’d hate for something like that to happen to you, Mr Baggins. You’re one of our best customers!” the young man exclaimed desperately, gripping Bilbo’s arm like he was worried that he will just topple over right this second. A door at the other end of the room opened and there were distant voices.
Bilbo smiled stiffly at being included amongst “older people”. I mean honestly! He was only in his forties. “I’m quite alright, Ori,” he reassured the receptionist with as much kindness in his voice as he could muster. “I just took a little tumble, that’s all. No hits on the head, I promise.”
The receptionist didn’t look convinced. He examined Bilbo’s face with anxious eyes. “Are you sure, Mr Baggins? We can reschedule your appointment for next week, so if you’d rather go to the hospital—”
“Is everything alright?”
Bilbo jumped at the deep voice behind him and quickly turned to the newcomer. His heart stopped for just a second as he came face to face with a broad chest. Looking up at its owner, Bilbo took in his freshly trimmed black hair streaked with grey, blue eyes hiding behind little square glasses, and a large forehead furrowed with concern.
“Mr Baggins just had an accident,” the receptionist supplied helpfully, and the creases on the handsome man’s face deepened.
“Are you in any pain?” he asked, promptly kneeling down to be level with Bilbo who was suddenly thankful to be sitting down. If he wasn’t, he might have actually toppled over at the sight of those massive thighs almost splitting the seams of the stranger’s jeans open. Good god, he was massive!
“Yes,” Bilbo breathed, because that was the only word that would come into his mind at the sight of the man in front of him. Yes. Whatever you ask, the answer will always be yes, he thought.
“I’m going to take care of you,” the stranger said in a firm, reassuring voice. “Can you tell me what happened?” He reached out gently, placing a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder to get his attention.
This must be a dream, Bilbo thought. Either it’s a dream, or I actually did get hit by a bike and died, and now I’m in heaven. He smiled, blinking slowly at his handsome companion whose frown deepened.
“Do you know what happened?” he asked the receptionist and cradled Bilbo’s head to look deep into his eyes, tilting it gently as if searching for something.
“He collided with a bike, and I think he might have hit his head,” Ori replied, and Bilbo barely listened as he lost himself in the intense glare of the bright blue eyes.
“Mr Baggins. Mr Baggins, can you follow my finger?”
The pretty eyes disappeared, and Bilbo was left staring at the strangers hand with one index finger lifted into the air, moving from side to side. Wait, huh?
“What—” Bilbo startled, shaking his head to get back to reality, but the hand cradling it firmly stopped him.
“Don’t move it too much. You might have a head injury.”
Bilbo froze, cold sweat beading on his back as he realised what was happening. The man must be a doctor and thought Bilbo was actually injured. “Wait, no—”
“It’s okay, Mr Baggins. I’m a paramedic. You said you’ve had an accident, and that you’re in pain. Can you tell me where it hurts?”
The blood drained from Bilbo’s face as reality came crashing back. Oh no. How can he tell this gorgeous man that the only thing that just got bruised was his ego?
“He looks pale. Should I call an ambulance?” asked the receptionist, and Bilbo finally found his voice.
“No! Don’t, please, I’m fine! I’m just…” he cut off as the man reached for his hand. Fingers stroked along his wrist, and Bilbo’s heart jumped, pounding wildly at the touch and the other man’s sudden proximity.
“Your heartbeat is a little frantic,” he muttered, raising his eyes from his watch back to Bilbo’s face. “Are you experiencing any shortness of breath?”
Bilbo blushed, stifling a hysterical giggle at the thought of saying that he was the reason for Bilbo’s heart beating out a samba and his breath being a bit short. “No,” he lied breathlessly.
The paramedics eyes narrowed. “You said you were in an accident?”
Bilbo cleared his throat, pulling his hand out of the handsome man’s grasp. “Um, yes, but it was nothing serious. I just banged my knee a little.”
“Your eyes looked a bit unfocused. Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?” he insisted.
A nervous, high pitched giggle escaped him. No, I’m just a middle aged man making eyes at you, sir, Bilbo thought. Nothing to see here. “I’m sorry. No, just my ankle.”
“You said that you hurt your knee.”
Bollocks! Bilbo winced. “Yes, right. I did say that. That is because… I hurt… both.”
“Both,” repeated the man drily.
“Yep,” Bilbo lied. “I banged my knee, and then I rolled my ankle.”
“Uh-huh.”
There was a moment of awkward silence.
“So… the ambulance?” asked the receptionist again, still nervously hovering around.
The paramedic shot Bilbo an amused glance. “I think we can handle this here. Do you have a quiet room where Mr Baggins could rest for a few minutes?”
Ori lit up, finally happy about having something to do. “Oh yes. Come with me. I can take you to the staff room,” he chattered excitedly, leading them to the door behind the reception and into what looked like a small break room.
The paramedic pulled Bilbo up and wrapped an arm around him to support his “injured” leg as they followed after. Bilbo had trouble fighting down the blush as he felt the large hand dig into his flesh and hold him up with ease.
“Should I fetch the first aid kit?” the young man asked, offering them a chair, onto which Bilbo sank gratefully.
“No need. I’m sure Mr Baggins will feel better in no time,” the paramedic replied, clearly fighting a grin. “Thank you. I can take it from here.”
“Just call if you need something,” the receptionist added, and he slipped out, closing the door behind him.
As soon as they were alone, Bilbo dropped his head into his hands, giving a muffled groan.
“So,” said the other man, leaning on the large table in the middle of the room. “I’m guessing there was no accident?”
Bilbo groaned again.
“We’re alone. You can say the truth — I won’t tell them.”
He met the blue eyes and swallowed, feeling his cheeks heat up as he spoke. “There was no accident.”
A quiet chuckle rang through the room. The paramedic nodded in satisfaction and raised his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.
“I… I forgot about my appointment,” Bilbo admitted, his voice pained. “So I had to take a cab to get here in time, but I could feel the bloke judging me for driving such a short distance, so when he asked me if I was injured, I just… said yes.”
“Right,” replied the tall man, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement.
“And then it just sort of… escalated. He was watching me when I got out, so I faked a limp, and then Ori saw and… Oh god, I’m so embarrassed!” he wailed, hiding his face again.
He was startled by a rumbling laughter, the other man was shaking his head in slight exasperation. “Don’t be. I’ve seen worse, believe me.”
Bilbo chuckled. “It was just a white lie, I swear!”
“It’s fine, Mr Baggins,” Thorin offered, wiping tears out of his eyes.
“Bilbo,” he corrected.
“Bilbo,” the paramedic repeated with a smile. “I’m Thorin. Are you sure you’re alright? You did look a bit confused for a moment there, and your heartbeat was rather irregular.”
Bilbo felt the heat rising into his cheeks again. He coughed awkwardly. “Well, that’s just.. I mean… That was because you’re…”
Thorin raised his eyebrows as Bilbo gestured vaguely in his direction. “I’m… what?”
“Very attractive,” Bilbo muttered, wishing that the ground would open and just swallow him now.
The look on Thorin’s face was of genuine surprise, and it made Bilbo blush even harder. “Oh,” he said, staring at Bilbo intently.
“I’m sorry,” he quickly continued. “That’s really not appropriate. God help me, why do I have to make a fool of myself twice in one day,” he muttered, getting up from the chair and turning away, so he wouldn’t have to face the awkwardness of the situation. “I’m obviously not in need of medical attention, so…” He gestured to the door, expecting to hear footsteps as Thorin got up and left. Instead, there was a pause.
Then, “I think I should be the judge of that.”
Bilbo froze. A movement and then a hesitant touch on his hand. Fingers wrapped around his wrist again, resting on his pulse point, and Thorin whispered in his ear.
“Your heartbeat is a little irregular again, Mr Baggins. I think it would be irresponsible of me to let you go like that.”
Bilbo shivered, but he let himself be turned to face the tall man. His hands rested on that massive chest, feeling the strong muscle under a soft layer of fat. “Would it?” he whispered, lifting his eyes to look up at Thorin.
“I took an oath, after all,” he nodded, smiling cheekily.
What is happening, Bilbo though as he licked his lips and stood on his tiptoes, hovering inches from Thorin’s mouth. When there was no protest, he closed the distance in a chaste kiss.
A brush of lips, then there were arms wrapping around his waist and pulling him flush against the large man. Their mouths moved in a passionate dance, fingers tangled in hair, and when exactly did Thorin lift him up on the table? Bilbo did not know, and he did not care, his appointment long forgotten by the time they parted with a breathless giggle.
*
"Mr Baggins didn’t show, then?” Dori asked, looking around the waiting room.
“Oh, he did! He was late because he got into an accident, can you believe it?” Ori replied, lifting his eyes from the computer.
“Goodness. Is he alright?” Dori worried, frowning as he looked around again, searching for the friendly little man.
“Oh yes. Mr Oakenshield took care of him. Did you know he’s a paramedic? I think Mr Baggins hit his head a little. He was all confused, bless him, so Mr Oakenshield took him to the break room, to make sure he’ll be okay,” Ori reassured him, waving his hand in the direction of the door.
“Oh, let me see if there’s anything I can do,” Dori brightened up, striding across the room and discreetly propping the door open. He froze, staring at the scene in front of him and promptly closed the door again.
“Is he okay?” Ori turned around, looking at his older brother curiously.
Dori cleared his throat. “Uh-huh. Mr Oakenshield has everything fully under control.”