Notes:

Crossposted from A03. My first posting on Fanfiction . net.

So I've been reading a lot of angsty stuff and I needed to "cleanse the palate" so to speak, hence this fluffy lil fic. Not beta'ed or Brit-picked!

Alternative Universe, modern setting. Everybody is OOC but, hopefully, cute. There's a switcheroo - Primula is Bilbo's sister, and Drogo is the Brandybuck.

Includes nods to movie/book canon. All of you better know who Smygel Drage is, or turn in your fandom cards. And hey, if "I am fire! I am death!" isn't motivational, what is?

Also contains a nod to PG Wodehouse's writing style and to typical Richard Armitage humour. Let me know if you spot either!

~~Rads

It was a perfect Spring day. The sun shone down on the flowers in the backyard, then got a bit bored of that, peeked into the upstairs window and drew a long bright line across the pink face and golden hair of little Bilbo Baggins, sitting at his desk in front of a laptop, tongue firmly tucked between his teeth as he navigated the shoals of the Internet.

Bilbo didn't seem to appreciate the attention. He lifted up the laptop and moved away to the bed, where he sat back, laptop now on his lap, and prepared to go online again.

Bilbo Baggins, the hero of our story, was at that time about 34 years old. He lived in the house where he had grown up, his parents having unexpectedly abandoned the mortal coil a decade ago, leaving him with a younger sister, Primula, who immediately took on the responsibility of bringing him up. Said younger sister now lived downstairs with her husband, and had made it the mission of her life to see her older brother married. That her brother was gay did not affect her plan in any serious way, except it led to her taking a rather creepy interest in her husband Drogo's pub mates.

Bilbo himself wasn't too worried about it. Having gone through a sour relationship several years ago, Bilbo wasn't keen to jump back into dating. He didn't need anything. He had his job as culture editor of the local broadsheet, several friends, including some online friends, a lovely garden, a perfectly equipped kitchen, and three quilted dressing gowns. What more can any man need?

And of course he had his hobbies. One of which was the strategic game of chess. Bilbo had already beaten everyone he knew in town, so now he preferred to play online, on a website that linked you up to people in the same area. What Bilbo liked about the game was that he could also chat with his opponents as they played, via text, voice, or video. Bilbo didn't like playing in silence. He liked to imagine his opponent was sitting opposite him. He left the video off, but he liked speaking with his opponents, especially if they had nice voices.

And no one had a nicer voice than Oak, his favourite competitor. Bilbo logged into the website under the username "The Mad Burglar" and ran his eye down his list of favourites. "Oak is online", it said. Bilbo grinned to himself. The little icon next to the username showed that Oak wasn't in a game, yet.

He clicked on the little microphone icon next to Oak's username. There was a little ping as Oak accepted the voice call.

"My favourite Burglar! Where have you been?"

Bilbo blushed and was glad he wasn't on video chat. That deep, velvety voice did things to his insides. Especially when it held the hint of a smile, as it did now.

"I went camping, actually."

"Ooooh - camping" Oak said in a deep, faux thrilling voice, "All alone in the deep dark forest, or did you go with someone special?" What an expressive voice he had! Bilbo could almost imagine him waggling his eyebrows salaciously and probably sexily.

After Bilbo's insides calmed down, he grinned. What a flirt. "Friends from school. We go every year, it's tradition."

"You're breaking my heart, Burglar. I thought we had a tradition too - chess every Saturday afternoon. Don't you like me any more?"

Bilbo giggled, "You're one to talk! You disappeared for three months last year!"

"Such a perfect memory! Were you counting the days till I got back?"

"You wish, Oak! I just missed having someone to trounce properly."

"Is that so? Then let's see whether your trouncing skills have survived the camping."

Bilbo shivered at his opponent's sensuous voice, and pressed the button to start the game.

Primula Brandybuck, nee Baggins, had pretty much had enough. Her utterly moronic big brother was still indoors on a Saturday evening, sitting at his laptop and snickering away maniacally to himself instead of going out and picking up a hot date. And Prim was tired of it. She went up the stairs and pushed open the door. As she had thought, there was Bilbo, sitting on the bed with a bowl of caramel popcorn, his laptop a couple of feet away from him, obviously watching a film.

Prim marched onto the bed and picked up the laptop. Bilbo yelled, "Hey! I was watching that!"

"You can watch it later. We have work to do. Come here." Prim glared at her brother, and settled the laptop on the table.

"Work? What work?"

"Come on! I'm going to help you find a date." Prim had a lovely dating website in mind. It wasn't a world-wide website like Grindr or , but a locally run website that was quite popular. She didn't want her brother dating someone in another country and leaving Bag End. She planned to have kids, and planned for them to grow up with an uncle nearby, not one they hardly ever met.

Bilbo was horrified. "Prim no! I'm very happy as I am! I don't need dates!" Bilbo saw his comfortable hedonistic lifestyle vanishing rapidly if he gave in and got a boyfriend. A boyfriend he'd actually have to pay attention to, and go on dates with, and oh god - what if they got serious?. Bilbo shuddered. He just wouldn't give in, that's all.

"Oh you do. Someday Drogo and I will have kids, and I want them to have a happy uncle."

"I'm happy." Of course he was happy. He had a lovely place all to himself, if you ignored the funny couple downstairs, and a cooking range to kill for. He couldn't possibly be happier.

"Ok, I want them to have two uncles."

"What for? Isn't one uncle enough for the little tykes?"

"Oh come on, big brother! Don't you want to even try? It's 5 years since you've dated. I'm certain there's someone out there for you. Don't you want to come home to somebody nice?"

"Nice?" Bilbo was flabbergasted. Did she even have a clue? People weren't "nice". Except maybe Oak, on a good day, but Bilbo wasn't ever going to meet him, and he probably wasn't gay, so what was she talking about?

"Look, let's just try this for a bit. I'll pay for a three-month subscription to a dating website. If at the end of it you haven't met anyone, I'll lay off."

Bilbo glared at Prim, "For ever?"

Prim put her head to one side and thought for a bit. "For three years. Then we do it all over again."

Bilbo thought rapidly. Three months in 3 years? He could live with that if it got Prim off his back the rest of the time. Sisters were evil.

He shrugged, which Prim took as assent. She silently created a quick profile for him, and then started filling in the details.

"All right. Here we are. Age 34, Height 5' 7"... "

"5' 6"" Bilbo interrupted.

Prim looked him up and down, then nodded. "All right. Hair blonde."

"Copper."

Prim squinted at him, but put that down without protest, and continued. "Bachelor, newspaper editor, likes long walks and gardening. Shall I put down "likes children"?"

"Go ahead. I don't dislike them, I guess."

Prim gave him a reproving look. "Looking for a long-term relationship." She hit the last enter with a flourish. "Almost done. Do you have any pics of yours on this thing?"

Bilbo pulled the laptop away from her, and dug out a photo of him standing in the garden. It was rather a nice photo, with the sunlight bringing out the highlights in his hair very prettily. Prim whistled, gave her brother the thumbs up, and added it to the profile.

"And now to put in the details of the kind of man you're looking for. Tell me."

Bilbo thought for a while, "Older, taller, with a sense of humour and preferably a steady job or profession." Bilbo had no use for idleness.

"Done."

"Preferably very rich and very handsome, with a gorgeous voice, and an amazing figure, and beautiful hands. Hands are important, and feet too, yes." Bilbo said mock dreamily.

Prim wasn't impressed. "Stop drooling. I've closed the thing. Now we wait a day or two for responses, and then start sending out emails ourselves."

"We?"

"Yes, we. If I leave it up to you you won't do a thing."

Bilbo didn't deny it. He wasn't in the least interested, but it was easier to give in than fight with his little sister when she had her mind set on something.

And Prim definitely had her mind set on getting her brother a date. Two days later, she grabbed Bilbo's laptop, shut down the interesting travel article on Bora Bora he'd been reading, and logged onto the dating site.

"11 responses! Not bad at all!"

Bilbo said, "Really?" and craned his neck to look at the screen. Prim moved the laptop so that he could see it as well. And there actually were 11 responses!

Prim started going down the list. Three of them were shamelessly listed as "married", so Prim scratched those immediately, with a grimace.

"First boy. His name's Azog, he works as a bouncer. He isn't pretty, but he's older than you, and he's built!"

Bilbo looked at the photograph and made a face. "Ugh. He looks like a serial killer. I'm not planning on waking up to that!" Bilbo wasn't hung up on looks, but this was too much. The guy had so many scars crisscrossing his face it looked like a map!

"Hmm.. how about this guy. He's very pretty."

"Oh god - that's Thranduil! No effing way! He's an arsehole."

"Have you met him?"

"Yes. He runs that big restaurant in town. We carried a bad review, and he came over and tried to bully his way in - made the receptionist cry before I threw him out."

"You threw him out?" Prim's eyebrows went up.

"Well, not physically, of course. But I told him off and threatened to call the guards."

"He seems to remember you. His message says "I would love to renew our acquaintance"."

"Yeah well, he's batshit crazy. Moving on."

"Smygel Drage. Unusual name. Very handsome. 34 years old, motivational speaker."

Bilbo peered at the picture of a man with alien-looking, attractive eyes and curly black hair. He shook his head. "Motivational speaker? No way!"

Prim glared at her brother. "Picky, picky. I think I know why you're still single. Holding out for Prince Charming, are we?

"What? No! Just, you know, I'd like to meet someone who won't spend our date psyching me up to try for the Pulitzer!"

"Brrrr. All right. The next guy looks promising. Dwalin Fundinson. He's single, works as Chief of Security for Durin Metals, and he has an absolutely lovely figure."

"Let me see" Bilbo grabbed the laptop and clicked on the profile figure to enlarge it. Prim was right. Dwalin was about 45 and bald, but also tall, handsome and extensively muscled. He was wearing a light blue t-shirt with jeans, and Bilbo swore he could see a six-pack under it.

"Not bad," Bilbo said. Was Bilbo shallow? Of course he was. He freely admitted it.

"Reply to him. Now."

"What can I say?" When it came to the crunch, Bilbo began to feel nervous.

"Just say you'd be happy to meet him for a date to see if you're compatible."

"Ugh - "compatible"? Who says that? Prim you're even more out of it than I am."

"So say what you want, but go meet him!"

And that was how, a week later, Bilbo found himself having one of the worst dates of his life. It was all Dwalin's fault, of course. Bilbo had gone for the date beautifully dressed in a suit with his best pinstripe tie. All understated and classic. And Dwalin had turned up in blue jeans with a black jacket. Things went downhill from there.

It wasn't that Bilbo minded people getting drunk and crying on his shoulder about their exes. He'd had plenty of that in college. And truth to tell, after college as well. It was just that, well, he didn't care for his current date crying on his shoulder about the "one who got away". And Dwalin didn't "cry pretty" either.

He really should have arranged for a "date rescue" but it had been so long since he had been on a date it had slipped his mind. Bilbo looked around in despair. Was there someone he knew in the restaurant? Someone? Anyone?

He didn't spot anyone he knew, but his gaze suddenly snagged on the most beautiful man he had ever seen. Tall, in a dark suit with a short beard and long hair caught up in a ponytail, with a classic Grecian profile and the most incredible blue eyes he had ever seen. Bilbo suddenly realised he was staring at the guy and the guy was staring back. He looked away in confusion and back at Dwalin, who was sniffling into a serviette. Bilbo patted his shoulder awkwardly. He later swore he didn't say "There, there", but he was lying.

Bilbo took a stealthy peek at Mr Gorgeous again. He was sitting with an older man with thick white hair and a beard, who was now looking at Bilbo curiously. As Bilbo looked, the older man smiled at him. Bilbo smiled back awkwardly. He hadn't ever seen that man, had he? Bilbo did have a terrible memory for faces.

Suddenly Mr Gorgeous got up and started walking toward him purposefully. Bilbo felt both thrilled and nervous. But Mr Gorgeous just gave Bilbo an apologetic look and patted Dwalin on the shoulder. Dwalin looked up blearily.

"Thorin?"

"Come on. You've drunk enough. I'll take you home, ok?"

Bilbo froze. That voice!

"Oak?"

Mr Gorgeous - no, Thorin - looked down at him and his eyes lit up. "Burglar?"

Bilbo grinned, suddenly quite comfortable again. "What a surprise! Lovely to meet you at last!" Bilbo held out a hand, and Thorin shook it warmly.

"Thorin Durin." He said with a huge smile that seemed to hit Bilbo in the solar plexus.

Bilbo rallied and smiled back, "Bilbo Baggins."

Thorin grinned at him. "Hang on," he told Bilbo. "I'll be back."

Bilbo couldn't stop the huge grin plastered all over his face. Who'da thunk it? That sinful voice came with an even more sinful body, leave alone that fabulous face and stunning eyes. And apparently he was very pleased to meet Bilbo, which was the icing on the cake.

And he was back, soon enough, with the older man, who introduced himself as Balin Fundinson, Dwalin's older brother. Balin put his arm around Dwalin and half-carried him off, muttering apologies. Thorin slid into the seat Dwalin had vacated.

"Well, well. So you're Bilbo. Dwalin told me about your date."

Bilbo's eyes narrowed, "Were you his "date rescue"?"

Thorin laughed, "Yes, but it seems you were the one in need of rescue. Poor guy has still not got over his ex, I'm afraid."

Bilbo shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I didn't have any major plans tonight anyway."

"Well, now you do. This place has the most amazing desserts." Thorin, as Oak, had of course patiently listened to Bilbo's ravings about cakes and puddings and pies in between "pawn to C3" and "knight x bishop".

Bilbo's eyes lit up.

As Bilbo dug into a creamy cheesecake, Thorin introduced himself properly as CEO of Durin's Metals, Dwalin's boss and oldest friend.

Bilbo of course already knew about his family: his parents, grandparents, siblings and nephews. The entire family lived in a sprawling old Victorian house just out of town. Renovated, of course. Thorin himself lived in a modest flat on the top floor of his office building, and was a workaholic.

They talked for hours about everything and nothing, Bilbo falling deeper and deeper under the spell of Thorin's hypnotic eyes and deep voice.

"Do you know what I thought when I saw you?" Thorin asked.

"Crazy stalker?"

"What? No! I said to myself, now that's why Dwalin didn't show me your photograph."

Bilbo was puzzled. "I don't get it."

"He knows my type." Thorin waggled his eyebrows. "He knows I like them small, blond and pretty."

Bilbo blushed to the roots of his hair.

"And pink" Thorin said firmly, reaching out to take Bilbo's hand in his, and twining their fingers together.

Bilbo dropped his forehead on the table. "Don't do that." he mumbled, but didn't let go of Thorin's hand.

He felt Thorin's hand caressing his hair, and heard him say softly, "Sorry. But I've fantasized about you for so long, and then you turn up looking like, well, this... and my brain's a bit fried."

Bilbo looked up. Thorin's eyes were so full of warm admiration he dropped his gaze again. "Stop doing that." he mumbled.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry. I'm not trying to do anything!"

"I'll be back!"

Bilbo ran to the washroom, where he splashed his face for a bit and tried to bring his breathing under control. What he really needed was a cold shower but that would have to wait till he got home.

As he walked back to his table, he thought Thorin looked worried. Bilbo sat down and smiled at him. Thorin looked relieved but uncertain at the same time. "I'm really sorry. I came on too strong, didn't I?"

Bilbo shook his head. "No, it's my fault. I have forgotten how to behave around attractive people."

"Attractive?" Thorin's eyes twinkled.

"Oh come on. Don't give me that. You have a mirror at home, I take it."

Thorin seemed to consider the question. "I'm not sure. What's a mirror? Is that like the rectangular shiny thing that shows you your heart's desire? I don't need one. I already know."

And Thorin inclined his head, his gorgeous blue eyes seeming to look into Bilbo's soul.

Bilbo smiled, a little bolder now that he had got over his initial bout of shyness. He reached out and covered Thorin's hand with his own. Or, well, three-fourths of it.

"I know mine, too."

Thorin's eyes lit up. "Would you go out on a date with me? A proper one?"

Bilbo nodded. "Tomorrow?"

The next day was Saturday. Thorin grinned, "My place? I make a mean lasagna."

Bilbo chuckled, "I know. And it's the only thing you can cook. You've told me often enough."

Thorin's car stopped outside Bilbo's cottage. They got out and stood on the pavement, reluctant to move. Then Thorin reached out and took Bilbo's hand in his. "I wish I didn't have to go. I feel like I'll wake up tomorrow and find this is all a dream."

Bilbo decided action was better than words. He tugged at Thorin's scarf, pulled him down and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. Then he stepped back, his heart thudding in his chest. A split second later, Thorin's arms were around him, and his mouth hard upon his own. Bilbo threw caution to the winds, and kissed him back passionately, their bodies pressed flush together.

The door of the cottage opened and Prim stared at them, at first confused, then triumphant. She waved frantically and her husband Drogo came up behind her.

"Oh my god. Are they going to come up for air any time soon?"

Prim giggled. "See? I told you I'd get my brother a hot date. Look at him!"

Drogo pulled her away from the door and shut it quietly. "Tomorrow, Prim. Let's leave them alone for now."

And the Brandybucks silently slunk away and pretended not to hear when Bilbo Baggins finally came in and went up the stairs, cheerfully singing "Call me, maybe."