And Let Me Kiss You
Bilbo Baggins has been talked into accompanying young Frodo to a One Direction concert and quite by chance, he is not the only bored uncle in the audience.
Originally released November 3rd 2014.
Bilbo grimaced, the excited hollering of thousands of teenagers attempting to pierce his eardrums.
When he had been asked five months ago to play babysitter for his cousin’s 13-year-old son, he hadn’t thought much about it before agreeing. He had looked after Frodo often throughout the years and could honestly say he liked the task; the boy had always been a joy and having no children of his own yet, Bilbo quite looked forward to spending time with him whenever possible. He supposed he should have asked more questions when Primula had suggested he go with Frodo to a concert, but they had gladly paid for his ticket as well as Frodo’s and Bilbo had welcomed the thought of a pleasant night out with the boy without reservations. He quite agreed with the boy’s parents that Frodo was still tad too young to visit concerts on his own, no matter how level-headed a child he was.
Now, months later, he found himself watching Frodo jump up and down on his seat, waving his glowsticks to the beat of the music. It was the same everywhere around them – fans screaming, waving, punching the air, dancing on their seats enthusiastically when a particularly popular number ripped the air and the five boys on the stage began dancing again.
Bilbo was not one to criticise people’s musical tastes and while he could admit he’d even quite enjoyed couple of songs so far, everywhere around him he could only see people much younger than him, the oldest fans in their early twenties, and he wondered dully how on earth he’d been talked into a One Direction concert in the first place.
“Are you enjoying yourself, my boy?” Bilbo said to Frodo when the song ended, drawing a thunderous applause from the audience. Frodo looked up, his eyes shining with excitement.
“Yeah!” he exclaimed. “Did you see Zayn’s moves? I wanna learn to dance just like him! Do you think mom would let me take up dancing lessons?”
Bilbo laughed, ruffling the boy’s hair. “You need to ask her but I’m sure she doesn’t have anything against that.”
“Maybe I should do my hair like his for school tomorrow, it’s—“
He did not hear what exactly Zayn Malik’s hair was, though, for the rest of Frodo’s words were drowned out by another, much rougher voice.
“—or I’ll tell your mother!”
The source of the commotion was the pair right next to them. Bilbo saw a blonde boy, maybe a year or two Frodo’s senior, standing on his seat and wolf whistling wildly as his guardian tried to get him back down. With a groan of exasperation that carried well over even the general chattering and screaming the man finally wrapped his arms around the boy’s waist, yanking him down forcefully.
“Sit down or we’re leaving immediately!” the man ground out, his heavy brows knitted into a scowl.
The boy only grinned wider, punching the man’s forearm playfully.
“Lighten up, uncle Thorin, I’m just having fun!”
“How about having fun seated?”
“We really should have brought Kee with us.”
“Absolutely not.”
Bilbo quirked an eyebrow, amused. The man was tall and strongly built, and his wavy salt-and-pepper hair was even longer than the boy’s, reaching well past his shoulders. His clothes were better suited to a rock concert, the black leather jacket making him look remarkably out of place. He scratched at his short beard, frowning as the band assembled and one of the singers started speaking, much to the audience’s delight.
“How much longer is this torment going to last?” he growled.
“Shh! I wanna hear what he’s saying!”
“I thought you were here for the music.”
“But he’s my favourite, I wanna hear what he’s saying!”
“Zayn’s your favourite, too?” Frodo asked eagerly, turning to look at the blond boy beside him. The other’s face split into an excited grin again.
“Yeah! He’s really cool! Did you see his choreography in the last song?”
“Yeah, it was awesome!” Frodo nodded so enthusiastically that his curls bounced. “I wish I could dance like that.”
“Me too,” the other boy sighed longingly. “I’m Fíli, by the way.”
“I’m Frodo. Nice to meet you!”
“I thought you wanted to hear mister teenage heart throb there speak,” the man beside Fíli grunted, pointing at the stage.
“You’re such a spoilsport, uncle, I just made a friend!”
Bilbo couldn’t suppress his laughter and he looked at the other man over Fíli and Frodo’s heads. “You babysitting, too?”
The man nodded, looking none too happy about it. “Yeah. My sister bribed me into this somehow.”
“You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself much,” Bilbo pointed out, smiling broadly. He had to raise his voice again as the band started another song and a loud roar of approval shook the stadium.
“You’re the one to talk,” the other man replied. “You’ve looked bored out of your mind every time I’ve looked at you in the past hour.”
Bilbo raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, though he guessed the gesture was lost in the flickering concert lighting. “Are you trying to say you’ve been checking me out, sir?”
The man appeared to be glowering at him for several long moments, and Bilbo had almost decided that the joke had been lost on him when he’s face finally split into a lopsided grin, the creases around his eyes deepening good-naturedly. “I’m Thorin,” he said, reaching out around Fíli and Frodo to shake Bilbo’s hand.
“Bilbo,” he replied, grabbing his hand as Fíli cried “I can’t see, uncle” indignantly and Frodo jumped higher on his seat, eyes glued to the stage.
“So what’s your story? How did you end up in here?” Thorin said, almost yelling and ignoring the withering look Fíli gave him.
“He’s my cousin's kid,” Bilbo bellowed back. “Agreed to watch after him and didn’t ask which concert it was.”
“A really bad move, that.”
Bilbo laughed, Thorin’s eyes still firmly locked on him. Bilbo gave him a quick look-over, giving his silent approval for the touch of silver on his temples and lines on his face that somehow gave him a rough sort of handsome, carved quality. From what Bilbo could see of his torso he looked like someone who has spent their lifetime in physical labour. He met the taller man’s eyes, the knowing look on his face revealing that his admiring glances had not gone unnoticed. Well, well, Bilbo thought. This was not why he had come to the concert but he was definitely starting to see the perks.
“You driving the kid home after this?” Thorin asked over the tumultuous blare of the music and the cheering audience.
“No, my cousin’s picking us up afterwards and dropping me off on their way home.”
“Shame. I could have given you a ride.” There was a meaningful look on his face that told Bilbo the said ride need not necessarily stop at his front door, and he had to remind himself he would have work the next day. It was hardly the time for irresponsible dalliances like they were just a pair of careless teenagers.
“Another time, perhaps?” Bilbo called back, and Thorin looked genuinely surprised for a little while, as though he hadn’t expected Bilbo to reciprocate, before his face melted into a warm smile. The music reached a new peak and they didn’t talk much during the rest of the concert, but the glances they kept throwing each other’s way were met with mutual curiousity.
It was much later that they finally began filing out of the stadium, Fíli and Frodo both hoarse from shouting and singing along, and Bilbo gave his tired nephew a one-armed hug as they followed Thorin and Fíli out of the building. The lines seemed to go on forever; first waiting to get out of their row, only to join the queue towards their nearest exit and have their progress hindered by a group of teenagers congregated in the middle of the corridor, gossiping and wondering whether there would be a signing session afterwards. The crowd was pushing against them from all sides and finally, in the commotion of the reception hall Bilbo carefully slipped his hand inside Thorin’s pocket, smirking to himself when he withdrew it.
“Alright, Fee, let’s get going,” Thorin said, relieved to finally find himself breathing fresh air after the agonizing twenty minutes it had taken to extract themselves from the stadium building. “Your mother wants you home well before midnight and there’s going to be a lot of traffic.”
“But we’re still swapping phone numbers!” Fíli exclaimed, Frodo’s fingers typing something furiously on his phone.
“Looks like you made a new friend, Frodo,” Bilbo said and the boy flashed him a smile.
He saw a car pulling up to the parking lot and Primula waved at him as she drove closer, carefully avoiding the mass of fans walking across the parking area.
“Your mom’s here, lad,” he said and Frodo pocketed his phone quickly, and the both of them bid Fíli and Thorin goodnight as they made for the car. Bilbo turned to look over his shoulder once, winking when Thorin met his gaze. Even under the dim light of the streetlamps he could tell the taller man looked slightly forlorn, and Bilbo guessed he should have been a bit more direct with him.
“Alright, Fee,” Thorin called, staring after the red Honda as it slowly made its way out of the parking lot again. He cursed himself for not following his nephew’s example and just asking Bilbo for his phone number. He supposed he could always ask Fíli if his new friend could put him in touch with his uncle, but somehow, that would have felt even more ridiculous. They spent the next five minutes trying to locate Thorin’s Land Rover while Fíli chattered madly, quite drowning out whatever regretful thoughts were flying around in Thorin’s head.
“—he said he wants to start dancing too and he doesn’t live that far from us, maybe we could start going to the same lessons?” Thorin heard him say. “It would be more fun with a friend and I don’t think Kee can come, he’s too small to be in the same group, anyway.”
“You already have karate three times a week on the top of all your homework, how are you going to squeeze dancing into your schedule as well?” It took some effort from Thorin to sound neutral, and he truly was trying not to get his hopes up so easily. Perhaps it was a bit pathetic, considering that Bilbo had not actually promised to see him again, but he could see his only chance at running into him again was hoping the boys would follow through with their plans. Perhaps with some luck Bilbo would sometimes escort Frodo to his lessons or come watch the children dance when the boy’s parents were too busy.
Fíli made an impatient noise. “I can do homework at night—“
“Your mother’s going to be absolutely thrilled about that, I’m sure,” Thorin replied, smiling in spite of himself. Maybe if he told Dís he’d help her pay for the lessons she would be more agreeable. He put his hand inside his pocket and pulled out his keys, a small piece of paper slipping out with them. It almost fell to the ground as he unlocked the car doors and he hastily grabbed it in mid-air.
“Get in the car, Fíli, time to go home.”
“But uncle—“
Fíli continued grumbling even as he climbed inside, but Thorin wasn’t listening. He frowned, pocketing the keys again as he inspected the paper slip. It was a concert ticket, badly crumpled but still readable, and the seat number was marked at three seats to the left from Thorin’s. Turning the paper over revealed a hastily scribbled message on the other side that simply said, ‘call me. Bilbo’, with a phone number right underneath.
Thorin grinned, carefully folding the ticket and slipping it inside his phone case. The concert just might have been worth suffering through after all.
