Trust Me

Chapter 1

...

Trust is to human relationships what faith is to gospel living. It is the beginning place, the foundation upon which more can be built. Where trust is, love can flourish.

Barbra Smith

...

Thorin moves out on a Saturday around 12pm.

It had been raining, which is no surprise and oddly cinematic. It has been raining for days. Bofur has taken to calling it the "Week of Wet." But this rain in particular is oddly cold for a September shower. The only reason Dwalin is aware of this is because watching Thorin neatly fold and pack his things in the new suitcase he'd bought for that specific purpose was not something he could bear. Dwalin has never been able to suffer unnecessary pain.

Plus…watching Thorin…it would have made everything too real. At least here in the rain, his back to the apartment complex and his butt made numb by the wet concrete and the coming downpour, he can pretend this isn't real. He can pretend that this is one of those terrible daydreams he's prone to having. The ones with the cinematic novelty (it would explain the cold rain) fit more for a screen then the wandering mind of a 26-year-old grad student.

Lifting his shaking hand to his mouth to breath in another mouthful of tar and nicotine, Dwalin lets it sit in his mouth like led before blowing out, watching the smoke with a distant interest. Thorin had always hated it when he smoked, hated the taste when they kissed and hated the smell that would cling to his fingers for days after. But Thorin is leaving.

He's lost his say.

...

The trouble started when he moved in.

Well…Dwalin has to admit that isn't particularly fair no matter how much he hated him.

They'd never been the perfect couple, not really. Did they love each other? Yes. Dearly did they love. Dwalin adored Thorin more than he could express in words, more than he could express in touch. He always had. And, he supposed, he always would.

Since the first day they'd met in Seventh grade, Dwalin knew there was something special about Thorin Durinson. There was an air about him: something ethereal and beautiful and old and rather, utterly, tragic. And it drew Dwalin in like a moth to a flame. Maybe it was in the set of his shoulders, as he struggled under the weight of their new backpack, not yet sure what to leave at home. Maybe it was because he had pulled his hair up into a high ponytail, far longer than any boy's hair usually was, so that it waved in the wind. Most probably it was in his eyes when he glared at Dwalin to get out of the way so he could get to his (as Dwalin would later learn) third period history class. Whatever it was, Dwalin was powerless to anything and everything that was Thorin Durinson. It would only be later, thanks to the coaching of his friends and family, that he would realize it was love at first sight.

It had taken five years and some crafty meddling from their friends and siblings, meddling worthy of a sitcom, to get Dwalin to finally confess his love to Thorin during their Junior Prom just after Thorin was named Prom King and Melissa Fert Prom Queen.

The following kiss would forever be one of Dwalin's favorite memories.

(The following memory of getting kicked out of the prom for indecent behavior was less so but still the night had ended well with their friends ditching the rest of the Prom to all go to Cold Stone and eat far too much ice cream in celebration.)

But while they loved each other, oh did they fight. They fought like cats and dogs, water and oil. Their fights were slow to build and ultimately volatile. Thorin was one of the most stubborn people Dwalin knew. When he set his mind to something, not even Death could persuade Thorin Durinson to change courses. It was one of the things Dwalin admired about him: his conviction, his self-confidence, his faith. But Dwalin was no pushover and he'd always made it a point to fight for what he wanted or Thorin would do what he liked, consequences be damned. Compromise was a slow process for the two of them and often required two mediators and soundproof room. Their neighbors had taken to leaving the building too get some peace from their shouting.

But in the end, they'd always managed to make up - which had led to some spectacular sex - and move on, their relationship stronger for it.

Or at least they had.

And the funniest thing was that Dwalin would have probably ended up considering him one of his friends if things had worked out differently.

...

Dwalin found out they had a new neighbor when he'd quite literally run into him in the hallway.

"I'm so, so terribly sorry," he'd cried, dropping to his knees and grabbing everything he could into a semi-neat pile as he attempted to help Dwalin pick up the groceries and books and papers that had fallen in their collision. "I swear, I always do this. I'm so clumsy and I never look where I'm going. My friends are always telling me that I ought to look where I'm going 'cause I'd take a tumble down the stairs one of these days and now look at me! I've gone and made a terrible..."

Dwalin silenced him with a firm pat on the shoulder and tried not to chuckle when the poor thing winced. He hadn't gripped him that hard.

But yet again, the man was a small thing, shorter than even Thorin with a head of thick brown curls and freckles. He was a bit on the plump side, as well, but that was all right. Rarely was anyone as fit or as large as himself. In fact, Dwalin would even go as far as to say he was a bit cute looking...like one of those small woodland creatures he'd spy when Thorin and he visited the Durin Ancestral Home in the country.

"Name's Dwalin," he introduced himself, "And its all right. Nothing broken. Nothing split." Though that was a lie. The eggs were probably ruined.

"Bilbo Baggins," he replied, calmer though still flushed in embarrassment, "And I feel horrible about this. At least...at least let me help you put these things away and pay for anything that was broken."

Dwalin shrugged. All right, who was he to turn down free labor?

...

Thorin had been home that day, which was rare. He usually didn't get home until around 6 or 7pm on weekdays.

Dwalin had warned Thorin he was taking on too much, but he hadn't listened. On top of the four college classes he'd signed up for that semester, he'd taken an unpaid internship that required his presence from 3pm to 5pm at least three times a week, plus a paid job at the coffee shop around the corner, plus community service work working on a drafting a new park for the city. It wasn't strange that he was exhausted all the time.

But that day had been a rare day off. His teacher had canceled and he had already been to the office three times that week and he was this close to finishing the draft and he didn't have a shift at the shop. So Thorin had spent the whole day in bed, which Dwalin wasn't one to complain about. He was only human after all.

But at around 1 pm, Dwalin had had to admit that it was time to rise and had decided to head to the store when Thorin had whined about the lack of eggs for breakfast. Which had lead to Dwalin bumping into his poor new neighbor in the hallway.

They were a quarter of the way through the five bags of groceries that Dwalin had managed to lug up the three flights of stairs to their apartment when Thorin finally entered their kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of low-hanging pajama bottoms. Dwalin couldn't help but puff up a bit in pride when he noticed Bilbo trying not to stare at his lover's - and what a stupid name for what they were even though it was the only one that really fit - ass.

"I didn't know we had company," Thorin greeted as he grabbed the box of cereal Dwalin had just placed in the pantry.

"Thought you wanted eggs," Dwalin asked as he threw away said eggs - broken just as he'd expected - in a way he hoped Bilbo didn't notice, The stubborn idiot, didn't he understand that Dwalin didn't want his money.

Thorin hummed in agreement as he struggled to open the plastic bag that held the cereal. Pretending to scowl, Dwalin took the box, ignoring the whine of protest, and efficiently opened the package, "Idiot," he grinned fondly as he passed the box back.

Thorin muttered a soft thank you through a handful of cereal he'd just stuffed into his mouth. Grabbing another handful to munch on, he turned to search the cabinets for a bowl. Not for the first time, Dwalin made a note to organize the cabinets into some form of order.

"Bilbo," their neighbor suddenly piped up from where he'd been standing holding a carton of milk.

Thorin paused as he brought the bowl down to look Bilbo up and down before focusing on the milk carton in his hand. Dropping the remaining cereal in his hand into the bowl, he reached over to pluck the milk from Bilbo's hand and smiled, "Thorin."

"I…I'm the n-new neighbor," Bilbo blushed.

Dwalin bit his lips to keep from laughing as he watched Thorin preen under the attention from their neighbor, the bloody peacock.

"Well, welcome to the neighborhood," Thorin gave another flirtatious smile before turning so that his back was to Bilbo and winked at Dwalin.