Kili went by the nickname of Chase on the BMX bike racing circuit. He never rode anything but a Chase, the world's elite racing bike, and he was pushing for a spot on the Chase BMX World Cup team. There was a shot at the Olympics in Rio on the board as well. Unfortunately there was also a drunk who didn't make a turn. Kili never even saw the driver who crushed his spine, his legs and his dreams. Now life means dealing with a very different set of wheels and priorities.
Fili is an artist and photographer from Auckland to research his ancestry. His showing in London did well and he is trading the sun of NZ for the emerald damp of Ireland. He's left other things; too and for the first time in years he feels he might have a future. He just didn't expect it to include a gorgeous young Irishman with chocolate eyes, a wild mane of dark hair and a family that could give any prospective suitor second thoughts.
As Kili sat at the table in the pub, he sipped his Guinness and half listened to Ori expounding on his new favorite author. The only one listening was Dwalin, who seemed to think that everything his boyfriend said was fascinating. It was early and the DJ hadn't shown up yet. The background music was a jig, but as soon as the entertainment arrived the place would turn more disco than pub. Kili winced a little at that thought and took another sip. He would have preferred a quieter place, but Ori insisted on dragging him out, saying he'd been locking himself away and that wasn't healthy.
Yeah, healthy. Fuck healthy. Fuck everything. He would have gotten up and left except that the guy behind him had scooted his chair back, blocking Kili's wheelchair from moving. His hands fisted, nails digging into his palms. He should have known better than to let Ori talk him into coming out. It didn't help that his uncle, Thorin, had gotten in on it and practically wheeled him out the door bodily.
Trying to control his anger and self-pity he took a breath and looked around. Like many pubs and bars in Dublin this one served a mix of straight and gay couples of both genders. It was one thing he liked about the gay scene here, there wasn't the segregation like there was in some places. Sure there were gay bars, but mostly they were for shows or if you felt like splashing out. Or if you were in mind to try hooking up. He snorted. Well, that was something he wasn't going to have to worry about any more. Ryan's was just a run-of-the-mill Irish pub that served everyone, had decent food at reasonable prices, a patio for warm weather noshing and a DJ every Friday and Saturday night. They used to have traditional music, but as more students started coming in, Ryan had to play what paid the bills.
Nori said something that Kili missed. "I said, that wee redhead in the corner looks lonely."
"Well then, go chat her up. You're a free man now," Kili replied disinterestedly.
Nori jerked his thumb toward Dwalin and Ori. "I didn't want to abandon you to them."
The Irishman laughed. "I think I'll survive. I've actually read the book he's going on about." He watched Nori close the distance with the redhead and mentally toasted him when he smoothly took the seat next to her. The bugger wasn't the handsomest guy around and was a bit dodgy in his morals, but the ladies loved him. He truly had the Irish gift of gab—the one that had avoided Kili since his birth.
Dwalin turned to Kili. "You need another drink, mate?"
Kili held up his glass to show that it was still half full. "If I drink too much then I have to piss and that's no fun for anyone."
The Scotsman's brow furrowed. "You know I can help if you need it."
Kili forced a smile. "I'm healed enough to transfer on my own and I'd just as soon not have another bloke in the loo with me, if you don't mind."
Ori giggled and was about to say something when Kili shot him a mock ferocious look. "Don't even go there."
"Okay, okay, I won't. But I want you to have fun."
"I am having fun," Kili replied.
"If this is you having fun, damned if I want to see you having a bad time," Dwalin said evenly. "Look, there's fuck all anyone can do about the wheels, so you just gotta get on with it."
"Oddly enough that's exactly what Thorin said...oh and my physiotherapist, and my doctor, and the lady in the dairy on the corner, come to think of it." He gave Dwalin a sour look and took another swig of stout.
The place was filling up; the jerk behind him blessedly moved his chair and actually apologized. Now that he wasn't trapped, Kili could allow himself to have a little better time. The DJ was setting up and the dance crowd was arriving. All the pretty young people, he mused. All the pretty able bodied young people.
The lights dimmed and the music started. In spite of himself, Kili was caught up in the rhythm and sat bopping quietly in his chair. He had loved to dance, almost as much as he'd loved biking. It seemed that everything he loved had been taken away from him, leaving him with only broken pieces, like a shattered mirror that showed a fractured image.
Gawd, you're a dismal fuck, he thought, pushing the image out of his mind. Looking up he watched the dancers. At least he could still do that.
Dwalin had gotten up and when he returned he set a yellow drink down in front of Kili. "This is for what ails you, ya gloomy sod."
"What the hell is it?" he asked, nudging the glass with his forefinger.
"Penicillin," the Scot replied laconically. "Two kinds of scotch and some other shit to make it taste like something besides scotch. Guaranteed to take away the pain."
He took a sip. It wasn't bad. Another sip. It was actually pretty good. After his second round of Penicillin he was feeling a whole lot better. The place was starting to rock and Kili let himself rock along with it. The dance floor had filled up and he was alternating between watching the dancers and the people standing at the bar. The beat kicked up, thinning the dancers on the floor. One caught his eye.
He wasn't tall, but he moved as if he owned the dance floor. He had golden hair that was short in back, but long soft curls framed his forehead. Something on his face glinted. A piercing, no...beads...beads on the tips of a long impossible mustache. It was the damnedest thing Kili had ever seen and he found himself laughing as he watched them flip with the dancer's movements. He was dressed in grey slacks and what appeared to be a black silk shirt, open at the neck. He was compact and perfectly in proportion. His partner was taller and a far less adept dancer. As the Irishman watched he could see from the distance that they maintained that they were not a couple. For some reason he found that comforting.
The music changed to a slow dance and the dancers cleared the floor. Ori and Dwalin had gotten up to dance, leaving him alone. Kili took a sip of Penicillin and was about to swallow when someone sat next to him. He turned and looked into the bluest eyes in Dublin. It was the blond from the dance floor. He very nearly let his drink drool down his chin.
"May I have this dance?" The accent was soft and not one he recognized.
Kili blinked once, swallowed and replied, "In case you haven't noticed I'm not much of a one for dancin' these days."
The smile was slow and, my god, framed by dimples. "I did notice. Now, may I have this dance?"
"I don't know how to dance in this." The Irishman was baffled. Why him? Why pick someone in a chair? They taught him how to wheel in physio, but no one ever mentioned dancing.
"I think, if we take it slow, we can figure it out." That incredible dimpled smile again.
Impossibly Kili found himself nodding. He rolled onto the dance floor followed by the blond. When they got on the floor, the blond said, "Hold your arms out stiff." Kili did and found himself being slowly pushed backward and then pulled forward. The blond smiled reassuringly as if to say, "See, it works." and he relaxed just a little. His partner moved next to him and the brunet found himself in somewhat of a tango position as he was rolled and spun slowly around the floor to the beat of the music.
After the third turn when he allowed himself to stop panicking, he realized that he was eye level with his partner's midsection. He couldn't see dimples from this position but it was ideal for watching other, more intimate things. That thought made him blush and nearly forget to keep his arm stiff.
When the dance ended his partner gave him a deep bow. He started to wheel himself off the dance floor. The music started up again. It was "Let's Hear it for the Boy" from Footloose.
Oh hell no! Kili thought as he tried to spin off of the dance floor. He was just a second too late.
The gorgeous blond took his hand and pulled him back. He looked up into those smiling eyes and eatable dimples, realizing that he was fighting a losing battle. When a man who looks like this looks at you like that and wants to dance...you dance.
Rock wasn't as easy as a waltz and they had less room to maneuver. They finally settled for sort of bouncing in one place, which was just fine with Kili. He was never one to argue about having a tempting midsection gyrating in his line of vision. There might be just one tiny perk to his new height after all.
The blond surprised him by singing along with the song in a really decent tenor.
'Cause every time he pulls me near,
I just wanna cheer.
He took Kili's hand and spun him easily, a move he had no idea he could do in a wheelchair. This was starting to be fun.
Let's hear it for the boy.
aaah,
Let's give the boy a hand.
Let's hear it for my baby.
Another spin and the blond leaned in close and sang as if Kili were the only person in the world.
You know you gotta understand.
Maybe he's no Romeo,
But he's my loving one-man show.
Let's hear it for the boy...
By the end of the song the Irishman was feeling a bit giddy and couldn't help thinking that, as pickup lines go, this one was pretty awesome. It almost made him forget he was in a chair and not floating around the floor in the blond's arms.
When the music stopped he was escorted off the floor by his partner, who breezily requested that the folks at the next table budge over and make room. They did and Kili pulled up to the table. There was not an empty chair until Dwalin and Ori suddenly decided to dance. One dance was usually the Scotsman's limit and the brunet didn't miss Ori's smile of delight as he was whisked back onto the dance floor.
Kili looked up at the blond and smiled. "It seems a seat has come open."
"Indeed it has. May I join you?" The accent was pronounced and still unidentifiable.
Kili nodded. "Somehow I don't think I could stop you." He picked up his glass and held it without drinking. It gave him something to focus on.
"I'm afraid I've come across as being pushy. Sorry about that, mate." The blond held out his hand. Kili put his drink down so that he could shake it. "I'm Philip Durinson but my mates call me Fili—with an F."
Kili blinked at him. "You're kidding, right? I'm Killian Oakenshield, but my mates call me Kili—with a K."
"Well, that's synchronicity for you," he replied with a grin. Seeing Kili's blank look he quickly said, "Our names sound like they should be connected, but they really aren't...unless you'd like them to be."
The Irishman cocked his head and looked at Fili, unable to figure out where this conversation was headed. "Are you hitting on me?"
"Like a hammer."
He looked into those blue blue eyes and swallowed hard. "Why?"
A casual shrug followed by another smile with those amazing dimples. "You're the hottest bloke in the room. I thought this night was going to be a dead loss and then I look over and see you."
"How did you know I was...gay?"
"I took a chance. Your friends are a couple, so I thought, at least he won't take a swing at me if I ask for a dance."
Kili was feeling...well...he didn't know what he was feeling. Rehab had taught him how to deal with his condition, but nothing was ever really discussed about dating beyond that it was possible, even probable. He'd talked with his mentor who was straight and married and not really any help figuring out the gay scene. At one point there was a brief discussion of sexuality that had embarrassed him because it also assumed he was straight. But there was no information provided on how to handle a bloke trying to pick him up. When his well-meaning mentor finally admitted, "I don't even know how that can work," in response to a question, he gave up. As far as his love life, he was on his own.
"I don't date." There he'd said it, now go away.
"Why not?"
Oh shit, he wasn't going away. Now what? He looked at Fili and then looked meaningfully at his chair, slapping his hand on the wheel for emphasis.
"Isn't it obvious?"
"Not to me it isn't. The chair isn't a reason, it's an excuse." He paused for a moment and then looked sad. "I was hoping you might find me as attractive as I find you."
He started to go, but Kili reached out and stopped him. "I do think you're...uh...attractive, (fucking mind-blowing might be more accurate) but I..l don't know...how," he finished, sounding pitiful and stupid.
He was saved from his pity-party when Fili took his hand and said, "I don't know, either, but I'm willing to try to find out. That is, if you are."
"I don't know." He was sure he looked panicked. He felt panicked. This was not something he ever thought he'd have to handle and he was doing a piss poor job of it.
The blond smiled at him. "Think about it. There's no rush. Give me your number and I'll call you. We'll talk so you don't feel pressured to give answers right now." He pulled out his phone and took Kili's number, giving Kili his in return.
"Would you like me to bugger off and give you some space? Your mates can't dance all night." He stood up, prepared to leave.
"No. I...uh..."
The DJ took a break, clearing the dance floor. On his way back to the table Dwalin solved the problem by returning with a chair he'd scored on the other side of the room. He set it down next to Kili, looked at Fili and said, "Sit!"
"Yes sir." Fili sat.
He looked at Dwalin, with the ponytail, piercings and tattoos and then at Ori, who looked like a teacher, and thought that opposites did indeed attract. Ori was beaming up at his boyfriend, but managed to tear his gaze away long enough to lean across the table.
"Our Kili is a fine thing, isn't he?"
"Ori!"
"Well he is, isn't he, Dwalin?" He poked the Scot who put down his ale and grinned.
"Aye, he's put himself on a bit of a shelf, but he just needs takin' down and shakin' out to be put right." He extended a huge hand and introduced himself. "I'm Dwalin Fundin and this little sassy bit is Ori Ri."
Fili introduced himself and the three of them sat smiling while Kili seriously thought about seeing if the kitchen had a gas oven he could put his head into.
Dwalin took a sip of his ale and observed the blond. He reached out and flipped one of his mustache braids. "What's up with the lip doodads?"
Fili shook his head, making them sway. "My niece decided to 'fix' them for me. My cousins and I had been having a bet as to who could grow the longest mustache and I won. Caroline didn't like the wax I was using so she came up with the braids and beads idea."
"I like it," Ori volunteered cheerfully.
"I have to admit that it's grown on me, although I've found myself trying to eat them a couple of times. They're a pain in the ass and I'll whack them off at some point." He winked at Ori. "It does appear to be a conversation starter, though."
'I would think it would start more than a conversation." Ori realized what he'd just said and sat there blushing until Dwalin chuckled and patted his arm.
Thinking he should at least try to add something to the conversation, Kili leaned toward Fili and said, "I don't recognize your accent. Where are you from?"
"I'm from New Zealand," he responded. "I don't suppose you see many Kiwis around here."
"Nope, we don't. What part of New Zealand?" the brunet asked, swirling his drink and trying to act cool.
"Auckland. It's on the north island. It's the biggest city in the country." He laughed. "Just keep nodding, I know you don't have a clue where it is. That's why I'm here. I need to get my work out a little more and I plan to do a little genealogy research while I'm here. My great-grands came from here during the Great Hunger. Since this is the second most beautiful country in the world, I will have plenty to keep me busy."
Intrigued, Kili asked, "What do you do?"
"I'm an artist and a photographer. I had a showing in London that did okay, but I admit that I came over to this side of the pond so that I could come to Ireland, Dublin specifically, and eventually the rest, well in the Republic anyway. I will be able to do a lot of photo shoots and I have some places set that I want to paint."
Ori was getting excited. Next to books he loved art the best. He was working on his Ph.D. in something Kili could never remember and absorbed anything remotely arty like a sponge. "How long will you stay?"
"Until I'm done, or the country throws me out," he replied cheerfully. He spotted a waitress and ordered a round of drinks for everyone.
Free drinks were always welcome and a good time was had by all. Or would have been if Kili hadn't devoted every other thought to panicking about dating and...sex. He had experimented once and had trouble getting an erection, so he'd stopped and never tried again. He'd just moved sex to that dustbin along with racing his bike and all the other things he was never going to do again. He didn't have a boyfriend before his accident and had avoided the issue afterward.
It was getting late and Kili had to pee. Actually he was way past having to pee. That was another thing they didn't teach you in physio—how to pee in a pub toilet that was crowded with inebriated students. Shit and double shit. He knew he shouldn't have had that last drink. His original goal had been to make it home without having to hit the loo. Looks like that resolution had hurled itself out the window. He finally bit the bullet and leaned over to Dwalin, who quickly nodded and stood up.
"I'll be back in a minute," the Irishman said, rolling his chair away from the table. He couldn't look at Fili. Well, that was that. Who the hell wants to date someone who needs an escort to the loo? He followed Dwalin who was doing his Moses impersonation parting the sea of students who were between him and the can. Once in he could pretty much manage on his own, but he was still so new at this that he was nervous about it. The big Scotsman was a paramedic who had seen it all, so he wasn't embarrassed, but that didn't make Kili hate needing help to get to the loo any less.
Once a path to the handicapped stall was cleared it didn't take long. Seeing that this one was well equipped, Dwalin stood outside the ready to help if needed, staring straight ahead as still and silent as if carved from stone. Relieved that he'd be able to use the loo without assistance, Kili had no difficulty managing. He'd wisely worn pants with a stretch waist and was able to pull them down and then transfer to the toilet unassisted; The same with the return.
After he was out of the stall Dwalin grinned at him. "I don't think you're going to need me again, mate. You've got it sorted."
Kili nodded. "Yeah, as long as I can actually get to the stall I'm gold. It's parting these fuckin' deaf students that's the challenge. I may always need you for that, they don't get out of the... EXCUSE ME! ...way."
When he got back to the table he was surprised that Fili was still there. He smiled (damn those dimples!), and welcomed them back. "That didn't take long."
Dwalin hauled out his chair and plopped down. "Naw, he doesn't need me to hold it for him anymore."
Kili was mortified. He felt his face flame and wished he could kick Dwalin. Ori took care of it for him and a satisfactory yelp was heard. "I'm just kiddin' for the love of god, I think you broke my leg."
Ori was like one of those little terriers that you didn't mess with. "I should have broken both of them. What a thing to say in front of our guest."
The Scot glared at Fili as he rubbed his shin. "He's not our guest, he's trying to pick Kili up." He deftly scooted out of range as Ori aimed another kick.
The blond was bemused by the first kick, but he was up to speed by the second and was laughing so hard he was having trouble breathing. "Does he always take the piss like this?"
"Only when I can't reach him," Kili confirmed. "He's a right arse sometimes. I think it's the fact that he was brought up with the sheep and never learned proper manners."
"Hey, I resemble that remark," Dwalin said with a grin. "Can't take the livestock—stay outta the barn."
Kili looked over at Ori and moaned. "Remind me again why I hang out with you two."
The smaller man reached over and patted his hand solicitously. "It's because we love you."
"God help me if you didn't..."
It was long after midnight and Kili finally had to admit that he was getting tired. The place was packed and there was no room for a wheelchair on the dance floor so blessedly he wasn't hauled out again. Before he had to say something Ori noticed that he was fading and came to his rescue.
"I have to get up in the morning and work on my dissertation, so as much as I hate to break this up…a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do."
"Yeah, me too," Kili said. "It's been a long day."
Fili rose and requested that the people at the neighboring table move so that Kili could wheel out. He walked them outside and stopped next to the brunet. "I'll call you tomorrow."
"That would be brilliant," he replied. He watched the blond walk away and heaved a sigh. What a perfect ass, it was too bad that was the last he would see of it.
Note: This is the ONLY chapter I am publishing here - for the other 20+ chapters please go to AO3! This story is also on AO3 and is illustrated by the mighty Pabu. I am unable to post chapter illustrations here, so his is the only chapter I will post here. It is a crime not to be able to see the gorgeous illustrations. And after multiple attempts this place is NOT letting me put up the AO3 link. Go to AO3 and search for Drakkhammer, you will find all of my work. Fili/Kili, John Mitchell/Anders Johnson and Thorin/Bilbo as well as a few OC stories so I could write something in the hetero universe.