The title of this story is inspired by a line in the poem"Love After Love" by Derek Walcott. Be sure to check it out.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, or The Silmarillion. They belong to the incomparable J.R.R. Tolkien. I'm just playing in his universe.

Usage Disclaimer: Do not use or distribute this story without my permission. If you have questions or requests, feel free to contact me. There's not much I will restrict as long as the credit for this story links back to me, but please ask first.

I.

It had been a bad day.

Between the monthly budget review, overlong meetings with the company lawyers, and his nephews' teenage drama, it was a true miracle he'd been able to maintain his composure and resist the overwhelming urge to murder someone. As it was, he could feel a massive migraine coming on, pricking at the base of his skull and beginning to pound incessantly in his left temple. He'd shut off the radio and dimmed the lights about an hour ago to try and lessen the effects, but he'd run out of aspirin and didn't have anything else on hand to mitigate the pain.

Thorin Durin-Oakenshield removed his reading glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning at the dense, weighted sensation in his head. Then he reclined in his supposedly ergonomic leather chair, rested his head against the cushioned back, and closed his eyes. He took several deep breaths to clear his mind, trying to will both his headache and his hunger away, to no avail.

Barely a few minutes elapsed when there was a firm knock on the door. He could feel it reverberating in his skull. With a pained sigh, he sat up straighter and ran his fingers through his short, dark hair, pushing the prematurely greying strands out his eyes. "Enter," he commanded.

The ornate, steel knob turned, and the door swung open to allow a rather smallish man with unruly honey-brown curls and an amiable smile to stride through. Both hands were gripping green, reusable tote bags, from which there wafted a positively delicious smell, and a briefcase was tucked up under one of his arms.

Thorin immediately felt his shoulders slump in relief, not only glad that it wasn't one of the panicked accountants coming in to wave a stack of spreadsheets in his face, but also genuinely pleased to see his assistant. "Ah… good afternoon, Will."

William Took flashed him an exasperated look as he headed over to the tiny kitchenette discretely tucked away in one corner of the office. "Evening, you mean. You worked through lunch again. It's well past six o'clock." He hefted the bags onto the electric stove and then strode over to the black leather sofa to deposit his briefcase on the coffee table.

Thorin glanced at the clock in the corner of his laptop screen. "So it is. I apologize. I had no intention of working late tonight. And you certainly don't have to stick around."

Will shrugged and returned to the stove. He opened the cabinet next to it and began to pull out plates and silverware. "I didn't have any plans except to grab dinner somewhere. And since I knew you worked through lunch, I figured we might as well eat together. Besides, we still have to go over next week's agenda." He glanced over his shoulder while he produced various white cartons from the bags. "Come away from there," he ordered. "You're not eating at your desk."

Thorin chuckled and pushed his desk chair back. He removed his dark grey suit jacket and loosened his black tie as he obeyed, relocating to the side of the office furnished with the sofa, coffee table and an armchair. There was a time when he found Will's general fussiness to be overbearing and annoying, but time and a better understanding of his character had helped him come to appreciate it instead. He might even go so far as to call it endearing.

He sprawled out a little on the sofa, his body stretched out diagonally, his arms across the back of it and his legs crossed at the ankles. It was a relief to feel his joints pop and muscles extend and contract, releasing the long day's tension. It did nothing for his headache, but he rolled his neck a few times, and then shifted a little so that he could casually observe his assistant.

Will was twenty-nine years old, only a few years younger than Thorin, and about a foot shorter. His hair was a bit longer too, pulled back into a short nub of a ponytail, which was rather pointless actually. By the end of the workday, most of it would fall loose - wavy, golden strands sticking out all over to give him an almost artfully disheveled appearance. He had light skin and a slim build, though Thorin noted that he had lost weight recently. His clothes: sleek black pants, a stiff-collared white dress shirt, dark red waistcoat, and black tie, looked a bit baggier on him than they once did.

He usually discarded the matching suit jacket early in the day, preferring this slightly more casual appearance, but Thorin often thought it made him look like a valet or a card dealer at a casino.

'Or a waiter,' he thought, as Will came to join him on the couch, their dinner arranged on a serving tray. He would never say such a thing out loud; Will sometimes took offense at the strangest things.

"Green Thai chicken curry," William confirmed, setting the tray down. "With iced tea and aspirin."

He waited for Thorin to sit up and give him some room, and then handed him two small, round pills.

"You're a godsend," Thorin mumbled. He popped them in immediately and washed them down with the iced tea. "How did you know?"

Will took his own plate of white rice from the tray and spooned the chicken and vegetable curry sauce over the top to his liking. "You always get a migraine after talking to lawyers."

Thorin followed his example and dug in, forgoing decorum in his haste to satisfy his hunger. He ignored Will's raised eyebrow, but he did accept the cloth napkin held out to him.

They ate in silence for the most part. Will was excellent at knowing when to engage in conversation and when to keep quiet. It was one of many traits that Thorin valued.

However, they did have business to attend to. "How did the meeting go?" Will asked when they had both started on their second helpings.

Thorin grimaced. "As well as can be expected. The lawyers are insisting that we stop cooperating with the investigations, but I won't hear of it. I want to know who the culprit is as much as the police do. I've got nothing to hide, and providing as much information as possible might expedite the process." He took a large swig of his tea to calm the burn of the chili-heavy curry sauce.

He felt Will's eyes on him as a scrubbed a hand over his tired face. "It's just frustrating," he confessed in a low voice. I think the lawyers actually believe I am behind the embezzlement."

William paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. He set it back down. "I'm sure that's not true, sir. You pay them to protect your interests, and the company's. They're just trying to do their job. Besides," and he smiled gently, "it doesn't really matter what they think. The people who care about you most trust you. They know you've done nothing wrong. Your siblings, your nephews, and the majority of your employees... they're all behind you one-hundred percent."

"And you, William? Do you still believe in me?" he wondered in a rare show of vulnerability.

Will pulled a face, wrinkling his nose as if to pronounce the absurdity of such a question. "You already know the answer to that," he said firmly. "And if a black eye and a cracked rib aren't enough to convince you..."

Thorin knew that he meant it in jest, but he winced anyway. The incident Will was referring to was not one of Thorin's finer moments.

While he and Will had a great working relationship now, it had been an extremely rocky start. Thorin's previous assistant, Balin Fundinstott, who was also one of his oldest and dearest friends, had resigned after surviving a bout of heart failure to pursue a less stressful career. It was necessary, certainly understandable, but it couldn't have a come at a worse time.

His departure had unfortunately coincided with a legal and very public scandal - allegations of embezzlement and fraud within the company. Such a thing was disastrous on its own accord, but this wasn't the first time it had happened. Thròr, Thorin's grandfather, had been tried and convicted of those same crimes during his time as the company CEO. It had taken Thràin, Thorin's father, the better part of his life to rebuild the company into a respected and trusted business again.

But history was doomed to repeat itself. Inconsistencies in their financial records had recently come to light, and Thorin was publicly crucified in the media. Phrases like "crime family", "greed" and "bad blood" were attached to his name, despite evidence, backed by an official police statement, that the Durins were not behind it this time.

Subsequently, Thorin was justifiably overwhelmed (though it was still no excuse for his behavior) when William Took arrived to replace Balin. He probably wouldn't have gotten the job at all if Balin hadn't personally recommended him. Will's previous employers had provided glowing references, but his resume, though solid, wasn't all that impressive. He was hardly the most qualified candidate, but Thorin had decided to follow Balin's advice when it came to his successor. He figured he could always fire him later if he wanted.

Still, Thorin was under a lot of pressure and sad to see his friend leave, so he made up his mind not to like his replacement. With such a negative mindset, it was easy to pick out little traits and mannerisms that annoyed him or to find fault in his work. It didn't take long to convince himself that Will was completely incompetent, and he treated the poor man more like a slave than a paid assistant.

To his increased frustration, Will usually took his ire with a sort of quiet grace, complying with almost anything Thorin demanded of him with no verbal protest. That wasn't to say that he behaved like a doormat; Will always met his eye with a gaze like cold steel, a strained smile, and (Will later confessed) his hands folded behind as back so that he could stop himself from punching Thorin in the face. He blatantly ignored any unreasonable requests, and he engaged in confident, rational debates when it was appropriate.

The episode that had changed everything occurred about five weeks into Will's employment. A city official with whom Thorin had a long standing grudge, Thranduil Greenlee, was up for re-election. One of his campaign goals centered around decreasing corruption within the government and key business leaders, including those employed at the Lonely Mountain Investment Firm. He re-opened old wounds and spoke once more of Thròr's crimes, then accused Thorin of following in his footsteps.

Between that, and a recent string of arguments with his sister, Thorin wanted something of an escape. He'd never been a heavy drinker, having seen the consequences of such actions in others, but one night, he went to a bar and got completely wasted.

His memory was a bit fuzzy on the evening's proceedings, but at some point, a couple of guys who had been affected by Thròr's illegal acts got in his face to pick a fight with him. He could have ignored them or walked away, but he'd had enough of playing nice. He didn't remember much, but he was sure that he had thrown the first punch. As a war veteran, well trained and still very fit, Thorin was an exceptionally good fighter, but he hadn't been in any condition to do so that night. He might have gotten a few good hits in, but he'd been knocked on his ass fairly quickly.

To his later astonishment, Will had happened to be at the same bar, apparently having a drink with a friend. Though he'd had no obligation to do so, he intervened on his boss's behalf, vehemently defending Thorin both verbally and physically.

The next morning, Thorin woke up on the sofa in his office, wrapped in a blanket, but still dressed in the previous day's clothes. He had a splitting headache and immediately felt the need to throw up. He emptied the contents of his stomach in a nearby garbage can, and then sat down on the floor pathetically to try and piece together what happened. Will walked in just as he began to suffer from another bout of nausea.

"Serves you right," was the first thing out of his mouth. "Idiot." He purposely kicked the door closed so that it slammed, agitating Thorin's sensitivities.

Thorin was about to reprimand his employee for such blatant insubordination, but stopped short when he saw the state of him.

Will was completely disheveled, likewise wearing the same clothes as yesterday, but they were torn in some places, and splattered here and there with drops of blood. He was walking around the room, setting down various bundles wherever they needed to be, but he was moving at much more sedate pace than usual, hunched and wheezing like he was having trouble breathing. When he turned around to set a suit covered with a plastic bag on the armchair, Thorin saw that he had a spectacular black eye and his face was puffy.

"What...?" he began, but Will didn't give him the chance to finish.

"I'll bring you up to speed," he interrupted. He crossed over to the stove and fumbled around with the contents of a shopping bag. "The incident last night turned into a full-scale bar brawl. No serious injuries were reported, but there was a quite a lot of damage to the establishment. The guys who started it got arrested; we kept the police from taking you into custody as well, but you'll need to go downtown to make a statement. I've already called your attorneys, so they're on standby and ready to go when you are.

"I also called your sister last night and told her what happened, though I did sugarcoat it quite a bit, but I told her not to worry, that you were fine and you'd be sleeping at the office. Good thing I did; the fight made the morning news... wouldn't have been the best way for her to find out. Anyway, a friend and I brought you here to sleep it off. Your publicist is making arrangements for you to issue a public apology for your part in the matter, and I've drafted several speeches and left them on your desk. This morning, I borrowed your spare keys from Dis so that I could pick up a change of clothes," he pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the suit without turning around, "and went shopping for the hangover essentials."

Will carried a tray over to the coffee table and set it down. It held a styrofoam take-out container with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages and toast, a cup of orange juice, a bottle of water, and some aspirin. "Greasy food... it'll help settle your stomach," he said at Thorin's curious glance.

He didn't know what to say.

William drew a little closer and leaned down. "Since I'm resigning anyway..." He pulled his fist back and punched Thorin in the jaw.

Thorin recoiled and brought a hand to his smarting chin. "OW! What the hell...?" That blow hurt more than he would have guessed coming from the smaller man.

"You are the most rude, insufferable, stuck-up asshole that I've even met!" Will screamed. Suddenly, he groaned and rested both of his hands on the left side of his ribs. He panted and swayed, moving to lean against an armchair. "Besides the fact that you've been nothing but cruel to me since I first started, now you've gone and made such a magnificent fool of yourself! Do you have any idea what you've done? All this time, you've been saying that you are not your grandfather - think about all the work you and your father have put into rebuilding the Lonely Mountain. Do you really want to just throw it all away? Why? Because of a couple of jerks can't see your true worth? Or because the media is completely biased and does whatever it can to stir up controversy? What about your family? Dis and Frerin and Fili and Kili? What about the hundreds of employees that come in every day because they like their jobs and refuse to leave because they believe in you and want to support you? What about those of us who know you're innocent, those of us who even believe your grandfather was innocent?"

Thorin was stunned into silence by this impassioned speech, and by the look of sheer disappointment on Will's face.

He ran his fingers through his untidy curls. "I thought you were better than this," he concluded softly. "Maybe I was mistaken. Anyway..." he straightened, but the effort seemed to cause him a great deal of pain. "... I should go. I haven't had time to get myself checked out. My resignation is on your desk. I'll see myself out."

He limped to the door, but before he left, he concluded with a challenge glittering in his hazel eyes, "Prove me wrong, Thorin. Prove them all wrong." And then he was gone.

"Hey, you okay?" Will asked.

Thorin shook his head to bring himself back to the present. "Yeah. Just thinking about 'the incident'," he said, as they had taken to calling it.

Will smirked a little. "Which part? When I yelled at you or when you came to my apartment to beg me to take my job back?"

"I didn't beg," Thorin argued, his face warming. "I just... I had never been so wrong about someone in all my life. I owed you an apology."

"And you barely managed a week without me," Will teased.

Thorin gazed at his assistant intently, smiling but devoid of the humorous edge. "You're right. I never knew how much work you did for me. I didn't realize that I had come to rely on you, that I needed you."

William nudged his boss playfully. "Isn't that the understatement of the year?"

Thorin didn't bite. "It's not just me. Dis enjoys your company when you stop by, and you know how hard it is to impress her. And the boys adore you."

"And do you 'adore' me too, Mister Oakenshield?" Will laughed.

Thorin was quiet for a moment, long enough that Will stopped grinning. "Sir?"

"You know, I think I do," Thorin murmured, perfectly serious.

Will coughed awkwardly, his cheeks turning pink. "I bet you say that to all your assistants," he said lightly.

"Only the pretty ones," Thorin's mouth blurted for him.

They stared at one another, Will blushing furiously and Thorin in an equally shocked state. William broke the contact first. "Erm... well... on that note, maybe we should get down to business. I-I mean, discuss your schedule."

"Right," Thorin agreed, still reeling from his own words.

Will cleared their dinner while Thorin returned to his desk. He busied himself with switching his laptop out of sleep mode and opening his calendar, his thoughts a blur.

Where did all that come from? Had he really just started flirting with his assistant? He kept his head lowered and clicked on a few emails to seem busy, but his eyes kept darting back to William when he wasn't looking.

At first glance, Will probably wouldn't be called handsome in the traditional, sex-crazed media sense of the word, but he wasn't unattractive. Quite the contrary, he was actually very good-looking, in that charming, small town, boy-next-door sort of way. With that cute button nose, expressive eyes and ears that were curiously a little pointed at the tips, it wasn't really hard to understand why he might have overheard some of his employees confess to a crush on him. Add to that his kind heart, quick wit, and sometimes surprising bursts of athleticism, and perhaps it wasn't really unthinkable that even Thorin might develop some overly-friendly feelings for him.

But surely that would pass. Thorin didn't really get out much, and they spent so much time together. He was probably just overthinking things. Maybe if he made an effort to cultivate a social life, like his old combat buddy (and Balin's younger brother) Dwalin was always nagging him about, he'd find that those tiny flutterings in his chest were merely to result of his limited view.

Nodding to himself, Thorin focused his attention back on his emails. Yes, that was all it was.

William collected his smart phone from his briefcase and sat down on one of the chairs in front of the desk across from Thorin. It made a few muted beeps as he pulled up the scheduling apps he needed.

Thorin leaned back in his chair to watch and waited patiently. Well, in any event, there was no harm in admiring the man's features and enjoying his friendship.

"Okay..." Will drawled, looking over his calendar. "Mr. Dori Hadlow would like to come in and discuss the outstanding issues regarding his father's estate; he mentioned wanting to liquidate some of the more valuable assets and possibly adding them to his younger brother's college fund. He's available on Wednesday and Thursday afternoon. He prefers Wednesday, but it would be tricky to find time since we don't know how long the austerity meeting will go."

"Agreed. Thursday is a better bet. See if he can meet at four. If not, then we can reschedule a few of the early afternoon's employee reviews for the following week to accommodate him."

"Very well." Will typed the note into his phone. "Next... oh. Agent Smith phoned about a new lead in the investigation and wants to talk about options on how to proceed. He can meet anytime, but we'll need to coordinate with your attorneys to make sure that at least one of them can be there."

Thorin stifled a sigh at the thought of another conference with his lawyers. "Call and find out what day would work for Nori Sharku to come in. He's the most shrewd and least annoying of the lot."

Another note was added to Will's list of tasks. "Okay, let's see... Oh! I almost forgot. Fili's violin recital is on Thursday night as well, so if Mr. Hadlow is going to come in that afternoon, we'll have to make sure the appointment concludes by five-thirty at the latest. It's the last concert of the semester and Dis will kill you if you miss it again."

Thorin visibly shuddered at the idea of facing his sister's wrath. "I know. And I am looking forward to seeing Fili perform. If you would, please impress upon Dori that he should come fully prepared with an agenda, and that I do not have time for idle chatter. Er - in a more polite way, of course."

Will smiled at that and amended his previous note. "And finally, the annual fundraiser for the Children of War Foundation is on Friday. Timothy Smaug has forwarded the finalized guest list, with the exception that you have not provided the name of your 'plus one'." He looked up at Thorin, his gaze unreadable. "We need to find you a date," he stated, a little mechanically.

Thorin tilted his head back and groaned overdramatically. "Can't I just bring Dis or Frerin?" he pleaded.

William shook his head. "Frerin is leaving for that trade show on Friday morning and Dis promised to take the boys to see that new fantasy movie. I already asked her, and she won't budge."

"Well, what about you?" Thorin asked without thinking.

"Me?" Will blushed again.

Thorin tried to shrug indifferently. "Sure. It's not like it's unheard of to bring an employee to an event like this."

Will sighed and shook his head. "You forget: I'll already be there. I'm helping Tim coordinate the keynote speakers and performers."

Thorin frowned at the way Will referred to Smaug. There had been no intonation to his voice when he said it, but there was an implied level of comfort at the use of the shortened name. As far as he could remember, the head of the Lonely Mountain's charity organization was far too vain to allow anyone to be so casual with him. It bothered him to think that the "Wyrm", as Thorin called him in his head, was on a nickname-like basis with Will.

"Fine. What do you suggest then?" he inquired waspishly.

Will knit his brows as though confused, but he did not comment on the sudden change in mood. "Well, sir," he said, emphasizing the formality, likely to annoy him, "there are a number of young men and women who had called and expressed an interest in attending the event, but didn't make the invite list on their own accord. I can make some calls and see if someone would like to go as your guest." He starting looking through his saved emails. "I'll forward you the names."

Thorin rubbed his eyes with his palms. "No need. You pick someone; I don't really care."

Will glared at him. Thorin knew he hated it when he expressed indifference in his decisions. "Do you at least have a preference on a man or woman?" he pressed.

Thorin yawned. "Not really. It's not like it's a real date or anything. Maybe... find someone who's likely to help the cause. Oh, and preferably someone who won't get on my nerves."

Will grinned up at him. "That first one shouldn't be too hard, but I might have trouble fulfilling that last stipulation."

"And why's that?"

"Because everyone gets on your nerves," Will retorted.

Thorin smiled back, but he said seriously, "You don't get on my nerves."

Will laughed and stood up. "That's an outright lie and you know it." He let out a yawn of his own and stretched his arms over his head. "Well, that was it I think. Unless there's something else, I'm gonna head home. I'll take care of the dishes in the morning."

Thorin shut down his computer and stood as well. "That'll be all, Will. I'm packing it in as well. If you don't mind waiting a moment, I can walk you to your car."

Will was already tucking his phone back into his briefcase. "Thanks for the offer, Mister Oakenshield, but I actually took the bus today."

Thorin shrugged his jacket on and thought quickly to deter his retreating assistant. "Do you need a ride home?" he asked, trying not to sound hopeful.

William paused with his hand on the doorknob. He glanced back and blinked a few times, his features registering further confusion. "Um, no thanks. A friend is picking me up. He's probably already waiting for me downstairs. But thanks." He smiled tiredly. "Good night, sir."

Thorin nodded, masking his disappointment. "Good night, Will." For some reason, the click on the closing door echoed in his head again, even though his headache had receded. He shook himself from the uncharacteristic twinge piercing his gut and collected his own things, ready to put this long day behind him.

To be continued...