Belladonna insisted that he take most of the furniture from Great Aunt Violet's house for his new venture.

"Really, darling, where are we going to put it?" She gestured to their already-full living room. "Do we look as though we need another three-piece-suite and dresser?"

Bilbo looked helplessly at his father, Bungo, who laughed around his pipe. "You know how she gets once she's on a mission, son. And you're a fool if you refuse free furniture."

Well, there was that. Fal and Millie came up with an idea for how to renovate Bilbo's new property – he could bake and provide cups of tea, and their friends would do all the heavy-lifting for him. It sounded simplistic but it worked and Bilbo found himself wall to wall with very kind and chatty people who praised his coffee and walnut cake and apple and blackberry pies and who told him that they'd definitely visit when he opened. Fal smirked at him from beside a beautiful boy with blue hair. Bilbo flipped him off and deliberately didn't offer him any more pie.

It took quite a few weekends and late nights, but eventually Bilbo was ready. The café had a sort of comfortable cosy look to it – there were sofas and armchairs instead of tables and chairs – and a couple of walls were lined with towering bookshelves, packed with books that Bilbo had bought from flea markets and friends of his. They were all books that he liked the look of, a great eclectic mix, plus there was a small telly for when a decent game was on, and a radio. A counter ran across the back and the hairdresser's small break room had been turned into a kitchen that Bilbo loved already.

He loved the whole place actually, the warm comfortable feel of it. He hoped, with a sudden fierce hope, that other people would feel that way about it too. He could remember too many bad nights ending with him wishing that there was somewhere warm and pleasant for him to sit and drink tea in, maybe read a book or two, somewhere people wouldn't stare at the eye-liner Brinar had painted on him.

Belladonna glowed with righteous happiness as she tucked into a crumpet.

"Don't say it, Mum."

"I don't need to, do I?"

Bilbo gave notice at his job, and put a large rainbow sticker up in the window of his café.


His friends came along, as promised, and drank tea and ate cake once he'd opened. They told their friends so at least one night a week, his sofas and armchairs overflowed with sweaty glittery beautiful people, men and women with shaved heads, people in wigs and suits. That was part of the clubscene that Bilbo had always enjoyed – the mixing of everybody together, accepting all and just having a good time. That, he'd always appreciated, and he was more than glad that it was happening in his café.

He got given several phone numbers, only a couple of which he actually called. Fal claimed he should put a blackboard up where people could scrawl their digits for him. Fal was lucky he was still allowed in.

But Bilbo couldn't make a steady profit from a night or two of clubbers regularly spilling past his door. Thankfully, the eccentric atmosphere of his café brought in some couples and more than a few students who loved the mix of home-baking and comfortable surroundings, especially when they needed to study. There were the occasional shoppers as well and people who looked around furtively before gradually relaxed. Bilbo did okay; his mother continued to gloat.

Then one quiet night, when he was taking a careful look at the accounts, the bell above the door jangled. He glanced up in time to see a lean young man in the doorway, with stubble on his chin and long dark hair down his back. He was a mixture of pretty and handsome, dressed in slim-hipped jeans and a beautifully-tooled leather corset with a leather jacket and chunky Doc Martins. He looked entirely comfortable in the get-up, as if he wore such outfits every day.

"Is that apple pie and custard I smell?" he asked eagerly.

Bilbo couldn't help smiling, suddenly reminded of his young always-hungry cousins, and nodded back towards the kitchen where an apple pie was being kept warm in the oven.

"How many slices?"

"One, no, two."

Bilbo hopped off his stool to enter the warm steamy kitchen, breathing in the memories of family dinners long past. Somewhere, his mother was smirking. Shaking his head, he cut into the pie and poured generous custard over the slices. He could hear the bell go again; it really wasn't going to be a quiet night after all.

Back on the sofas, the customer was making out with another young man whose his long fair hair was strewn with braids and strange metal fastenings and whose body was clad in form-fitting dark leather. Bilbo coughed politely, as long as such behaviour didn't escalate into public indecency on his sofas, he had no problem with it, he just didn't want the apple pie to get cold.

The men broke apart and Bilbo was struck by the faint similarity in their faces, particularly around the cheekbones. His brain was just sluggishly putting together the unlikely scenario he was witnessing when the men confirmed it with an introduction that sounded rehearsed.

"Fili."

"Kili."

"At your service."

Bilbo could only hold out the full bowls, which the men eagerly accepted. Fili sat down in a wide armchair and Kili promptly made himself at home in the man's lap. Kili wore two diamond stubs in his left earlobe, Bilbo found himself noting, and Fili wore a matching stud in his right. They both glanced up at him, eyebrows raised identically.

"Anything the matter?"

Laughter spilled involuntarily out of Bilbo; they'd asked the question with such a perfectly-balanced tone of politeness and 'fuck you' attitude, as though daring Bilbo to challenge them. They were defiant in their body language too; leading Bilbo to conclude that they'd probably been thrown out of a lot of establishments after similar conversations. He could only imagine the trouble they'd gotten themselves into, being so shameless in every way possible. Well, he had vowed that his little café would unquestioningly accept all comers, no matter their preferences...

"Pay promptly and don't spill anything on the sofas and there won't be," he replied eventually.

As long as they weren't hurting anybody, he could give them as much acceptance here as he offered everybody else. He had a feeling that they probably hadn't gotten that anywhere else. The brothers smiled beatifically and tucked into their desserts. Bilbo went to retrieve his own bowlful.

"Come join us, Mr…?"

"Baggins," he supplied as he sat in the nearby armchair that he privately thought of as his own. "But call me Bilbo."

Not many others entered that night and Bilbo was happy to while away the hours with the brothers, who were full of funny stories about their family – apparently they were from a large complex clan, many of whom were involved in running a nearby club, and who had an even more complicated feud with a club in the next city. It all sounded pretty outlandish but Fili insisted it was true.

"Got this from a guy outside our club a few weeks back." He held up a hand which sported an ugly-looking scar along the thumb. "I was lucky."

Bilbo shuddered; club life really wasn't for him. Kili grinned.

"Ah, it's not like that all the time. Uncle Thorin keeps our club clean, so it won't be shut down any time soon."

"Well, that's good," was all Bilbo could reply.

As they left, the brothers handed over a small handful of crumpled paper money and both hugged Bilbo briefly, which surprised him. There was nothing overt in the action, just simple affection. How many places had they been thrown out of, because they'd refused to hide both sides of their relationship? Bilbo knew what it was like not to fit into other people's neat little boxes. He might not understand their relationship, but he wasn't going to be one of those people.

"Come again," was all he said, instead of any goodbyes.

Fili looked pleased, an arm looped casually around Kili's waist. Kili was looking at his brother with heated adoration. It made Bilbo's mood turn a little sad and melancholic; nobody had ever looked at him in that way.

"We will."

"And we'll bring more family with us."

Now why did that make Bilbo's heart sink?


The brothers kept their word. It turned out that Bilbo had had a very good reason for that sinking feeling.

"Bilbo, meet our uncle," Kili called by way of a greeting, stripping off his ever-present leather jacket and throwing it haphazardly over a fine velvet-covered chair.

"He runs Erebor," Fili casually followed up, his hands already curled into Kili's waistband.

Bilbo's eyes widened as he properly looked at their uncle – a tall forbidding figure with long silver-streaked hair and a closely-cropped beard. He was staring back at Bilbo, as though very carefully measuring him. Bilbo knew exactly what Fal would say – that, Bilbo, is a very nice cock.

Bilbo was very well aware of that; he was human after all and gay and very much liked what he saw in front of him. He also felt as though the rug had well and truly been pulled out from underneath him because...

"I'm sorry, you run the Erebor!?"

Thorin raised an impressive eyebrow – shit, Bilbo was thinking about his eyebrows, not a good sign – and swept a gaze around the café that made Bilbo's hackles rise. Okay, so it wasn't the biggest gay club in the city, but it wasn't something to scrape off the bottom of a shoe either.

"Family business," Thorin said eventually.

"Oh well, my friends like it, a lot," Bilbo offered sincerely, determined to take the high road.

"And you?"

Bilbo paused, flashing back to his one and only experience of Erebor. It had been extremely loud and full, but the drinks had been reasonably priced, the bouncers hadn't been assholes, and many different kinds of people had mixed together quite freely and easily. Bilbo had enjoyed people watching that night, he remembered that very clearly, and he'd exchanged handjobs in the back with a guy wearing the tightest jeans Bilbo had ever seen. He'd woken up the next day with the guy's number penned on his hand.

"It was good," Bilbo said at last, his words loaded with a wealth of things he couldn't possibly express out loud – that clubbing really wasn't his scene at all but that Erebor had given him one of his only positive experiences of it and that it'd briefly reminded him of something both vivid and vital; that he, and so many others like him, weren't alone.

Thorin gazed at him, something unfathomable and powerful softening in his eyes. Bilbo felt deliciously caught, pinned in place, and God, how obvious was he to Thorin? The way the man looked at Bilbo made him feel as though his every most private secret was laid bare. It was deeply unnerving.

"Uncle, don't scare off Mr. Baggins," Kili's voice pierced the moment. "I need his amazing apple pie in my life."

Thorin tore his expression from Bilbo and directed an amused and quashing look at his young nephew. Bilbo let out a breath and quickly headed back into the kitchen. He needed a little space to breathe and get his head straight. He'd wasn't often overwhelmed by men he met, he knew what he liked and he went for it. It had taken him several years to get to that level of self-confidence. Thorin knocked him sideways, it was both vexing and absurdly arousing.

He made a pot of tea – remembering honey for Fili, and a large bowl of sugarlumps for Kili. He rarely forgot somebody's tea order – and carried it all out to the brothers' table, along with a nice half of pie for them to share. He had a feeling they'd enjoy that. He kept his eyes firmly to himself.

"The custard stays in the bowl," he warned.

Kili grinned filthily. "Why, Bilbo, what other uses do you think we'll find for it?"

Fili pinched his brother's thigh. "He knows us so well already."

Bilbo shook his head at them but felt something warm unfurl inside of him as he looked at them – he'd made them feel that comfortable, so comfortable in fact that there was no sign of any 'fuck-you' defensiveness. Instead they were relaxed and happily intertwined, and not at all on their guard. Mission accomplished.

Bilbo turned to ask Thorin what he'd like, but found the man looking at him with an odd twist of a smile. Bilbo held his gaze, determined not to blush. He could sense Thorin's posture and expression changing slightly, and so quickly nodded towards the blackboard menu.

"Let me know if you'd like anything."

"What do you recommend?"

Bilbo forced his mind to stay strictly on food, no matter the rich deepness of Thorin's voice. The bastard was probably doing that on purpose. "Well, your nephews have already given my apple pie the thumbs-up. I second that, and I particularly like the spiced pumpkin cakes. They're lovely with a herbal tea."

Thorin nodded slowly, his eyes still on Bilbo. "Then I shall have a slice of pie and a cake."

Bilbo's mouth flickered in a smile. "But no herbal tea."

Thorin smiled back. "Indeed."

A pleasant heat purred through Bilbo as he held Thorin's gaze for a beat longer before going to deal with the food order. There was no harm in it; it was always nice to have a bit of a flirt. Clearly Thorin wasn't offended by the idea.

When Bilbo emerged with a neat plate of apple pie and spiced pumpkin cake, he found Thorin sat at the counter. Kili and Fili had been left to their own devices, wrapped around each other and noisily scraping their bowls clean. Bilbo smiled in satisfaction, they were fast becoming his favourite visitors.

"You have no problem with my nephews?"

Bilbo blinked at Thorin's quiet but pointed question, and pushed the dessert plate across the counter. How often had Thorin visited places that the brothers frequented? How often had he paid people off? Or had to deal with people's angry or violent reactions? Something clenched inside Bilbo as he thought about his parents' relatively easy acceptance and encouragement, and his friends' well-meaning and affectionately teasing support - not everybody had that.

"They're paying for any stains they leave on my furniture," Bilbo replied, raising his voice. "And they're keeping their clothes on in here."

"Such a spoilsport," Fili called.

"You're missing out," his brother added.

Thorin's expression eased even more. "You may regret being so accommodating."

Bilbo laughed, the sound gentle and slightly sad rather than mocking. There was still an edge to Thorin, as though he couldn't believe that any would truly accept his nephews. Fili had mentioned before that his uncle was the most private person in the family. And Bilbo could see some stark scars on Thorin's neck, bared by a very snug t-shirt. Had he gotten those defending his nephews? Or were they from the apparent feud with that other club? No wonder Thorin was protective. Fal's stories about the police suddenly flooding into clubs and the fights that happened didn't seem so exaggerated now.

"This is a safe place," Bilbo tried. "Erebor is too. I mean, people can just be here, you know? Over a cake and a cup of tea. Nothing else matters inside this room. It shouldn't, anyway."

Thorin was staring at him now, looking quite taken-aback. He didn't seem angry though, which was a bonus. Bilbo was only so good with words, no matter what Millie and Fal said. They claimed that was why people kept coming back to the café – because Bilbo actually listened and helped pick apart people's problems. His Dad had called him recently, with news of his cousins' latest escapades, adding that you keep at it, son. There ought to be a lot more listening in the world. Clearly Brinar was still talking regularly to Belladonna.

Thorin finally shifted, a hand enfolding around a fork. Bilbo's gaze skittered at the movement.

"You are a very singular man, Bilbo Baggins."

Bilbo smiled at the simple but complex words and dared to pick up a fork to sink into the cake he'd served Thorin. "Good."

When Thorin paid, his business card was wrapped up in the money. "I look forward to talking to you again, Mr. Baggins."

Bilbo gripped the card tight; he intended on keeping it somewhere Fal wouldn't nose his way into. Thorin's eyes were intent on Bilbo, as though...as though he was seriously waiting for an answer, like it was important to him. Everything about Thorin, even his sense of humour, was steeped in intensity. Thankfully, Bilbo liked that, a lot. He wondered just how it would feel to have that intensity turned on him, one on one. He wasn't going to give up the chance to find out.

"Likewise," he replied, tapping the card against his chest in time with his scattered heartbeat.

Thorin nodded and exchanged a loaded wordless glance with his nephews before disappearing out the door. The brothers blew out identical impressive breaths.

"Hook, line, and sinker, Bilbo. That's a first."

Bilbo looked at them. "If you're telling me that your uncle has trouble attracting dates, I really don't think I'll..."

"No, no problems there," agreed Kili. "He's just a paranoid bastard and if anyone he's interested in actually shows any serious interest back, he has Bifur and his security team run a background check on them."

That stopped Bilbo in his tracks. He knew there'd be a catch. "That's...unusual."

Fili's expression was utterly serious. "Last year, it turned out that a guy Uncle Thorin had a real hard-on for was reporting back to Smaug, arsehole-in-chief at Dragon's Den. Talked about everything he saw in Uncle's office and home."

It was Bilbo's turn to blow out a breath. That would explain the storied paranoia, and maybe even the intensity. The feud between the clubs apparently included corporate espionage and cracking Thorin's heart. Bilbo stared at the card and tucked it under his waistcoat. He didn't have anything to hide anyway.

Kili smiled at him affectionately, though there was steel behind it. "Don't break him, Bilbo. I meant what I said about your apple pie."

There were always words within words with the Durins, Bilbo realised. The brothers weren't just warning him not to hurt their uncle, they were also hinting at what Bilbo would have to deal with if he was seriously interested in Thorin, the layers he'd have to break through. Hard work. Bilbo thought about dark intense eyes, and a deep voice that curled up his spine and left riddles in its wake.

The brothers teased Bilbo for the rest of the night about the far-off look in his eyes. He threatened to strike apple pie from his menu.