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“Thorin, do you even know where we’re going?”
Thorin groans, and glares at his cousin. “Yes, I do,” he answers, “And we’re making good time, it’s just ten past eight. Relax Dwalin.”
To be honest, he didn’t know where he was going until just now, thanks to the restaurant Bilbo sometimes takes him to popping up as they turned the corner. They had made their way down narrow roads, turned corners and gone down roads he didn't believe they'd walked before.
Dwalin asked him yesterday, if he wanted to go to the cinema. After a pint of course. They’d gone to a new pub, located on the other side of town, a few minutes’ walk from the centre. It was a nice spot, modern yet homely. And with good food, which Thorin thought was just perfect after a day at work.
“Look, it’s right there,” Thorin says and points to the cinema, “told you I could find the way.”
Dwalin looks at him with slightly narrowed eyes, and grunts. And Thorin smirks, pleased by the fact that Dwalin doesn’t know he actually got them a little lost.
Pushing the cinema door open and stepping inside, Thorin’s brow furrows. There’s barely any people there, and judging by the popularity of these films, and the fact that it’s only ten minutes until it begins, he thinks it a bit strange. But Dwalin is already marching over to where the tickets and candy are, so he follows. If Dwalin doesn’t question it, it’s nothing to worry about.
“Two tickets to Civil War, please,” Thorin says, fumbling in his pocket for his wallet.
“Yeah,” says the woman behind the counter slowly with a small sigh. “Sorry boys, but it started 25 minutes ago...”
Thorin stares back at her, brow furrowing more and more. “But... It was eight thirty, wasn’t it?”
“Sorry, it started at eight,” shrugs the woman.
“You’re still buying me popcorn, you idiot.” Dwalin is glaring at him, and Thorin sighs.
“Fine... One popcorn only then.”
**
“You better have beer in your fridge,” Dwalin says as they walk over to a taxi.
“My fridge?”
“Well I’m not going home yet, so yes, your fridge.”
“Why not?”
“Ori's got his brothers over. Can’t say I’d love to spend my Friday evening with those two.”
“Fine, my fridge it is then,” Thorin says chuckling, and gets inside the taxi.
**
“Where’s Bilbo?”
“How the fuck would I know? He’s your husband.”
There’s barely any light on in their little house, only one of the lamps in the kitchen and one in the living room, and Bilbo’s car is gone. Thorin pats his jacket, opens every pocket. But no key. God dammit.
“You don’t have a key, do you?”
“No.”
Dwalin groans, and sits down on the steps leading up to the front door. “What a useless idiot you are this fine Friday, cousin.”
“Shut up!” Thorin growls, “I’ll find a way in.”
Looking up, he can see their bedroom window is closed, same with the kitchen and living room windows on the first floor. He walks around the house, but all the windows are closed, and so is the door between the living room and veranda.
But as he walks back through the garden towards Dwalin, he notices one of the basement windows.
“Found a way in!” he shouts, and it doesn’t take long before Dwalin appears around the corner, and stops next to him.
“You still haven’t put in a new window?” Dwalin asks with a smirk.
“Looks like it’s a good thing I’m pretty slow sometimes, although Bilbo hates it,” Thorin says and chuckles.
“Have fun climbing through there.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Fuck no,” Dwalin says with a shake of his head, “you climb in, go upstairs, unlock the front door, and let me in through there.”
“Fine. You’re probably too big to get through anyway.”
They both stand there for a moment; before Thorin walks over to the window, now just a hole with a big piece of plasterboard fasten with screws in the window frame. He kicks it gently a couple times, and notices how it budges easily. He kicks again, this time much harder, and the plate falls to the basement floor with a loud bang.
Thorin kneels on the grass before the window, sticks his head in, then an arm, followed by a leg. He pushes himself a little further in, before pulling in his other leg, and jumps down onto the floor. He can hear Dwalin laugh as he walks back to the front door, and Thorin lets out a small annoyed sigh as he makes his way out of the room and up the stairs.
**
Bilbo can feel his heart start beating faster as he parks the car in the driveway. That stupid plasterboard plate in the basement window is gone.
“And I know I turned off almost every light before I left!” he says to himself.
“Thorin... I have to call Thorin! Or, no, I should, I should find out what’s going on, if there’s really a burglar here...”
Clearing his throat, and squaring his shoulders, he grabs the umbrella lying in the passenger seat and gets out of the car, closing the door as quietly as he can. The gravel barely makes a noise under his shoes as he walks to the front door. Stopping right in front of it, he can hear muffled laughter coming from insidem and Bilbo clenches his teeth together.
“What the hell is it they’ve found in my home that is so funny?!” he hisses.
He opens the door, and walks inside and through the hallway, thankful that he’s not making much sound. He can hear someone in the living room, but they’re not laughing anymore, nor are they talking, making it hard to hear if it’s someone he knows. He tightens his hold on the umbrella as he gets closer to the living room. The sofa is just out of eyesight, which has never been as annoying as it is now as he’s certain the burglar is sitting there!
His palms are getting sweaty, he clenches his teeth together so hard his jaw hurts, and it sounds like his heart is in his ears.
Bilbo jumps through the doorway and into the living room with the umbrella held up in the air, “WHO THE HELL DARES TO BREAK INTO MY HOUSE?!” he yells as he hits whoever it is sitting on his sofa with the umbrella.
There’s a loud groan coming from the burglar, and Bilbo lifts up his umbrella, ready to hit them again.
But someone grabs it, and Bilbo struggles to get it back.
“FOR FUCKS SAKE, IT’S JUST US!”
Bilbo freezes. That’s Dwalin’s voice, isn’t it? The umbrella falls to the floor, and Bilbo gasps as he finally sees who it is that’s sitting there.
“Oh, oh no,” he whispers, biting his lip as he takes in Thorin’s pained expression and Dwalin’s amused smile, clearly trying not to laugh. “I’m so sorry! I... I didn’t see it was you two!”
Thorin drags a hand down his face, his other rubbing his stomach. “Well clearly not. What the hell Bilbo?!” he groans, “I didn’t know you could hit that hard.”
Dwalin snorts, and Bilbo bites his lip again. Laughing now would be too cruel.
“I’m so sorry, love,” he says, and bends down to give Thorin a kiss. Thorin wraps his arms around him, and pulls him down into his lap.
“I’m sorry we scared you.”
“Why are you here anyway, I thought you were going to the cinema? And where’s your car?”
“Yeah, we were,” Dwalin says, “it’s just that this idiot of yours thought the movie started at eight thirty, but it was eight.”
“And we had a couple pints, so we took a taxi home.”
“And Thorin didn’t have a key. Of course.”
"It's a good thing you've had to get in without one before then..." Bilbo’s laughter fills the living room, and Thorin buries his face under his husband’s arm around his neck, hoping no one sees his red cheeks.
“Oh you,” Bilbo says, and gives his husband another kiss.
“Where were you anyway?”
“Out grocery shopping. Even bought wine, crackers and cheese, thinking I would have some time alone,” Bilbo says, letting out a loud sigh.
“Would you two like some?” he asks with a bright smile.