Author: Drew Demeter 2
Pairings: Kili/Tauriel, Fili/OC, others may be added at a later time
Rating: T for now, perhaps M in later chapters
Summary: Smaug Enterprises has presided over the world of finance with an iron fist and little competition. That is, until Durin Trust takes on a part-time fraud investigator, part-time double agent: Bilbo Baggins.
Warnings: probably language, maybe some violence and sexual-ness
Disclaimer: As is known, I do not own the Hobbit or any of the characters, scenes, or scenarios recognized.
1
He grinned to himself as he surveyed the scene from his round dormer windows. His sleepy little village, just a couple of train stops out of London, was just waking up for the morning. A couple of kids chattered as they skipped towards the bus stop, and the postman offered a kind word or two to old Mr. Took, who lived at the end of the block. Ahh, normality. He couldn't get enough of it.
"Mr. Baggins!"
Bilbo's scruffy head shot off the table with enough force to generate a small headache. Eyes bleary with exhaustion, he glanced half-heartedly at the face that disturbed his slumber.
"Morning, Gandalf."
The man smiled knowingly at his young friend, who had seemingly passed out on the kitchen table the night before. Poor Baggins. He had been up around the clock for the past week investigating the shifty insurance claim of one Miss Ellen Fitzherbert. She claimed to have broken all of her ribs, along with an arm, in a skiing accident. Naturally, Bilbo was assigned the job.
"Remind me how you convinced me to come out here," Bilbo groaned, gratefully accepting the full-to-brimming coffee mug offered. The dream was still fresh in his memory, recalling once again just how much he missed living in Shireton.
Gandalf snorted. "You were wasting away in that silly little village. It's my opinion that a man with a good degree to his name should not be twiddling his thumbs in the comfort of his own home while others get the real work done."
"It was cozy there!" Bilbo protested. This was an argument they had often. Luckily, it lost its seriousness with time.
"Yes. That is precisely the problem. You see, my friend: live inside your comfort zone for too long, and you forget the rest of the world goes on right outside your door."
"Old man," Bilbo mocked, his playful tone not lost on Gandalf.
"I happen to believe you, Bilbo Baggins, are the real old man here."
Bilbo scoffed, shuffling off to his room to get dressed for work. Without Gandalf, he would probably be jobless and homeless, all alone in London.
Six months ago, the older man had shown up at Bilbo's door. Gandalf had known Bilbo's father Bungo in their childhood years, being a couple years older than the Baggins senior. He'd sat right there, silhouetted in one of the dormer windows, and explained his predicament: naturally, to take down one of the largest insurance companies east of the Atlantic. Bilbo had definitely been skeptical, and most uncomfortable about leaving Shireton, but he figured his father would never forgive him for turning away a friend.
As usual, Gandalf led the way through a bustling street to their equally crowded tube stop. Bilbo had forever been absolutely useless with directions, and wondered how long it would be until he could make it to the office alone.
Durin Trust insurance agency was located just two short stops from Gandalf's apartment, where Bilbo was crashing until he made enough money to rent his own place. The salary was meager, even his bosses could admit that. Especially considering the usually complex jobs Bilbo had had the pleasure of completing. Exaggerated insurance claims, stolen identities… the list was long, and Bilbo was loath to remember it.
"Have you got the follow-up papers with you?" Gandalf checked for the fourth time. Bilbo nodded, stifling an urge to roll his eyes.
"Of course. I'm not one to leave a job unfinished." It was true. Bilbo breezed through high school, college, and an assortment of short-lived jobs because of this characteristic.
Gandalf smiled, his eyes crinkling warmly. "I know, my boy. Come, this is our stop."
The two exited the busy train, pushed and pulled through the rip current of other passengers. Eventually, they found their way up the stairs and back into the crisp air of London in the autumn.
The office wasn't in the most photogenic part of town. Wedged in between a quick mart and a clothing outlet, Durin Trust occupied an entire building, albeit very narrow, to itself, and its workers had attempted to lighten the place up with large signs and welcoming flower boxes. Bilbo pushed the door open, met with the usual sea of unused cubicles.
It was strange, to take in this scene and imagine the office in its days of splendor. According to Gandalf, there was a time when Durin Trust had a spacious office on Oxford Street, over a hundred qualified insurance agents in its employment, and hefty paychecks to boot. With a reputation for honest deals and friendly employees, the company had prospered for almost three generations before disaster struck in the form of Draco Smaug.
He was almost never referred to by his first name – not in this office, anyway. But everyone knew it regardless, just as well as they recognized his thin, lizard-like face, complete with two light green eyes, a shade away from being classified as yellow. He was a slimy man, the kind who never played by the rules, but somehow his business had made it to the top, while Durin Trust had plummeted.
"Baggins!" Came a screech from one of the single offices, almost before Bilbo had made it through the front door. The man in question shrugged off his coat, exchanging an exasperated look with Gandalf.
"Shall I come to collect you at four o'clock?" The old man inquired. Bilbo nodded distractedly, wondering what he had possibly screwed up this time. Meanwhile, the yelling continued in the office, getting louder and more irritated by the millisecond.
"Coming!" he shouted back, offering Gandalf a parting wave as the tip of his long beard disappeared from sight.
It was fairly early in the morning – the rest of the office was undoubtedly curled up in their warm beds, not expected to work for another hour. For whatever reason, Mr. Oakenshield insisted that Bilbo come in early to go over the Fitzherbert notes.
Mr. Oakenshield faced the window, looking out onto a dreary and overcast sky when Bilbo finally made an appearance in the doorway. "You brought your papers?" he asked by way of introduction.
"Yes." He patted his briefcase reassuringly. His boss finally turned to face him, and Bilbo noticed with disdain that his expression precisely matched the weather outside.
"Well, don't just stand there, Baggins," Thorin barked, running a hand through his rather long hair. Strands of gray had begun to intertwine with the black, giving Thorin the appearance of being older than he actually was. As usual, the man dressed in dark colors, the top button of his shirt undone.
"Right." With a few impatient tugs, Bilbo managed to free the papers from their tidy folder. He handed them over at once.
Thorin rifled through the forms for a few minutes, oblivious to the nervous expression on his employee's face. Finally, he glanced up, his bushy eyebrows knit together in a way that definitely boded ill.
"Look here, Baggins –" another loud slamming of the front door cut Thorin off mid-sentence, something Bilbo couldn't say he was sorry about. The noise was accompanied seconds later by the patter of heavy footfalls.
"Morning, Uncle!" Thorin's young nephews Fili and Kili were two of the more energetic personalities of Durin Trust. Fili was twenty-seven, and had been working at the firm for five years as an insurance agent. Already he showed remarkable promise, though not unexpected given the professions of both his uncle and his late father. Kili, fresh out of college, was almost newer to the business than Bilbo was, and thus had spent the week following Bilbo and his brother around like a lost puppy.
"Hi Bilbo." Kili acknowledged his friend with a large smile. Bilbo returned the gesture, putting away his exhaustion for the time being. The nephews of Thorin Oakenshield were two of the few perks in his job.
"You look awful, mate," Fili added, munching on a pastry of some sort. Like his uncle and brother, the man's hair length teetered on the precarious edge between homeless and attractive. Unlike his family members, Fili was blonde.
"Thanks," Bilbo responded sarcastically, wishing he had time for another cup of coffee before work. "That's the kind of thing that belongs in a card."
Fili shrugged, turning to his uncle. "Thorin, I have an appointment with a potential customer this morning at ten. Single mother with a teenaged son, recent car accident. You know the type."
Thorin looked thoroughly unimpressed. It was too early in the morning to worry about customers.
Kili snorted. "Don't meet them here, Fili. We want to look genuine, not sleazy, and I fear this neighborhood's reputation is not promising. Remember Mr. Douglas?"
The rest of the room sighed collectively. Mr. Douglas was one of those cases that could have made it into the history books. Unfortunately, he'd transferred to Smaug Enterprises following the infamous meeting.
"Your brother's right," Thorin stated, twisting one of his moustaches. "You could meet at Lime, if it were freshened up." He glanced at the clock on the wall. Just past seven thirty.
"I'll go," Bilbo volunteered weakly. He recalled the mentions of a small office on Lime Street, used mainly by the firm's agents as an attractive meeting place for clients. There hadn't been a new customer since Bilbo had taken a job; therefore the room hadn't been used in months.
Thorin studied his newest fraud investigator with a critical eye. "Very well," he said, pushing the Fitzherbert papers aside. "I suppose we can discuss your pitiful notes at a future date."
Bilbo bristled with the insult. He happened to believe those notes were spot-on, thank you very much.
"Sir, don't you think –" he began.
"I'll go with you," Kili interrupted, casting a glance around the drab office. Fili sighed.
"Don't you have work to do?" he asked pointedly. The younger simply shrugged, smirking in that cheeky way of his that was bound to get him into serious trouble one day.
"I always have work to do," he called, following Bilbo towards the door. "But there's always more time to do it."
Twenty minutes of confusion later, Bilbo and Kili stood on stately Lime Street, glancing up and down the row of buildings uncertainly.
"It has to be one of these," Kili muttered under his breath, eyes screwed up in concentration.
"Don't tell me you've never been here before," Bilbo groaned.
"I assumed this street would be smaller!"
Bilbo gaped. "You've never been on this street before? How long have you lived in London again?"
Kili looked sheepish. "I don't get out much."
The older man took one look at his friend and laughed. Yeah, sure.
"Well, this was a wasted trip." And a wasted three pounds, Bilbo grumbled quietly to himself. These tube tickets weren't cheap.
Kili took out his cellphone, sliding a finger across the screen to unlock it. Why he needed such a fancy device for making simple phone calls was lost on Bilbo.
"Should we try the office?" Kili looked positively green at the thought. Bilbo quickly shook his head.
"Only in the worst-case scenario." Thorin would have a field day if he found out about this latest blunder on Bilbo's part.
Kili nodded. "Okay… how about Balin? He's bound to have been to this office before. He knows the Trust almost as well as Thorin."
Bilbo didn't know Balin all that well, but the man seemed likeable enough, and spouted off the occasional story about Thorin's youth that sent the others into peals of laughter. Mr. Oakenshield had been a strange child.
He nodded to the phone. "Go ahead. I'm going to go up this street a bit for a look around."
Lime Street was almost uncomfortably modern. The buildings were mainly skyscrapers, full of windows that looked like little holes from the ground. Bilbo craned his neck back in awe. They didn't have these in Shireton, and he regarded each with a mixture of wonder and fear. What was to stop them falling, crushing the busy streets below under their majesty?
He took a step forward, walking face-first into a man in a dark suit and tie.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" The man turned to look at him in annoyance. The first thing Bilbo noticed were his eyes; light green, shockingly so. Was this color to be found in the spectrum? The stare was so intense he found himself backing away from the stranger.
"I- I'm sorry," he stuttered once again. The man looked him over, his lips curling into a thin, snaking line.
"Try to be more careful, young man," he said in a deep voice, despite the fact that Bilbo was around the same age. With a final straightening of his tie, he was gone, walking at a leisurely fast pace.
Someone shook him. A shock of longish dark hair clouded his line of vision.
"Bilbo? Are you alright?" It was Kili. His phone dangled in his left hand, forgotten for the time being. His face had gone white: the boy was obviously shaken by something.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Bilbo asked. He found he was able to tear his thoughts from the strange man, who was by now a blur in the distance.
"I saw everything. What… Bilbo. Was the anything in your pocket?"
Bilbo shook his head. "I don't think so. Just the keys to my apartment." His eyes widened with the realization, a hand fumbling in his jacket pocket for something, any sign the key had not left its place.
"Not there," Kili muttered. Bilbo's empty hands confirmed his statement..
"You saw, didn't you?" he asked. The younger man nodded seriously.
"Yes. I saw everything."
"Do you know who that is?"
Kili pressed his lips together, nodding reluctantly.
"It looks like you were just pick-pocketed by Draco Smaug."
A/N: Hello readers! This is my first Hobbit-related story, as well as my first crack at writing a Modern AU... if any of you are familiar with the workings of an insurance company, I'm sorry for my woeful descriptions... it was all I could find through a couple hours of research. If you have any suggestions, please don't hesitate to leave a review or PM me.
Speaking of, please review if you have the time! I hate to be one of these people, but one starting a new story it's important to know that people are interested in what you're writing... it keeps me going!
-Drew