"A second date's a great sign."

Millie sounded more confident that she usually did about an upcoming date. Bilbo held the phone securely with his chin as he rolled out shortcrust pastry. Three more pies to go and he was probably covered for the day.

"So no sign yet of the guy being a dick then?" he asked.

"No." Millie's smile was clear in her voice. "I've got you and Fal on speeddial though, just in case."

Bilbo snorted. "Don't call, Fal. He'll hit on your date."

"That could be a blessing; Fal does like dicks."

Bilbo nodded, knowing that Millie didn't need to hear him agree. Fal did like cocks who were dicks, because sometimes he was one of them. It was a very weird self-worship tick he had going on, probably more than was healthy.

Loud voices were coming from out front so Bilbo abandoned his rolling pin. "I'll have some chocolate and orange shortbread waiting for you."

"You legend. I'll bring the ice cream."

"Eat him alive, Mill."

Millie laughed before hanging up, the sort of dirty laugh that said a lot about how good she was feeling. Bilbo grinned; he hadn't heard Millie that excited about a guy in a long time. Maybe he wouldn't be making her consolation cock-shaped shortbread this time.

"Shop!"

Bilbo winced at the bellow and prepared himself for the worst as he hurried to greet his impatient customers. He found three rather unexpected figures – the two larger men were dressed in similar dark clothing and had meaty limbs and frankly impressive beards. The third was obviously younger and was also the only one smiling at Bilbo.

They were total strangers, and frankly rather intimidating, but there was also something in their expressions, in the way they looked around, that was familiar and so made Bilbo pause and choose different words than his usual 'what can I get you?'

"I'm assuming Kili and Fili recommended me?"

The older large one with sleek grey hair tightly braided back smiled a little. "Look at that, he's not an idiot."

The redheaded one with a hairstyle that might have alarmed even Brinar snorted. "Give him time."

The younger one was staring at the blackboard. "Can I have some flapjacks please, Mr Baggins? I'm Ori."

"Dori."

"Nori."

Bilbo smiled despite the sting of some of the previous comments. "More brothers..."

"Aye, but we're not inclined to start necking near any of your fancy books." Dori sat down heavily. "My advice, chuck a kettle of cold tea over them. They'll part like scalded cats."

"Hot tea for us." Nori sat down beside his brother. "And some of those orange scones."

"Make it a plateful."

Ori was thumbing delightedly through the craft section, seeming particularly drawn to the knitting books. Bilbo cast an eye over the overwhelming presence of the brothers, wondering briefly and alarmingly just what it would be like to have the whole Durin family crammed into his little café. All the members he'd met so far took up a lot of room with the strength of their personalities alone. He tucked thoughts of Thorin and his heady presence very carefully away for another time.

He heard Nori shout something, followed swiftly by something heavy hitting the wall. He hoped it wasn't Ori.

When he brought out their orders, Ori was present and correct and ate with the same gusto as his brothers, asking if it was okay for him to read a few of the books? Nori and Dori began inhaling the scones incredibly quickly, leaving Bilbo incredulous and hadn't he laid out more knives? Where on earth had they disappeared to?

Nori grinned, revealing pieces of orange stuck in his teeth. "Make it two platefuls!"

"So tell me, Mr Baggins..." Thorin settled back into the worn settee. "Why Violet Nights?"

Bilbo smiled, thinking of the contrary gold lettering above his café. His head was pillowed on the opposite end of the settee to Thorin and his feet were nestled in Thorin's lap. Thorin was rubbing strong thumbs against the arches of Bilbo's feet, an offer made when he'd caught how Bilbo was wincing after his busy day.

Which had brought them here, to this conversation.

"The only reason I could buy this place at all was my Great Aunt Violet dying," he explained softly, his mind filling with the smell of scones with jam and cream, and the sound of Violet's laughter as she gossiped with Belladonna. "She was...she was pretty amazing really, totally accepted me when I came out. She even told me about some of her friends; how she'd helped cover for them when they were out at clubs like yours."

Thorin nodded contemplatively, his hands steady but his eyes far away. "My grandmother ran a place in those days, Erebor in another form. She was a brave woman."

Bilbo nodded, hoarding that titbit, he was almost certain it wasn't available in any press release. Something about the café got people to open up. No, dear. Belladonna would insist, as she had the other night The café just amplifies you.

Violet would have said the same thing.

"So it really is a family business," was all he offered up.

"Mmm..." Thorin's massage almost became a caress. "And I hope it always will be."

There was a wealth of stories there, so Bilbo turned questioning eyes towards Thorin in response. He never pushed hard, he just wanted Thorin to know that he'd like to hear the stories but that it was entirely up to Thorin whether they were told or not. Bilbo didn't have any hidden agenda. Well, except for making the foot rub a regular thing.

"You were right before; saying that Erebor is a safe place," Thorin elaborated, surprising Bilbo. "Ever since my grandmother created one for her friends, and for her brother, we've carried on that tradition, in our own way."

Bilbo nodded, that was quite the legacy Thorin was carrying on his shoulders. A good legacy for sure, but a heavy one. And Dragon's Den wasn't playing fair, its owner taking delight in vicious games. Bilbo dug his toes into Thorin's thigh.

"Erebor's a good place to get lost," he offered. "People need that, acceptance, in glitter, if memory serves. It's still safe."

Conflicting emotions stormed across Thorin's face and Bilbo patiently watched. He knew this was going to be a long, sometimes trying, game. He hadn't been so fascinated in years.

Thorin's hands cradled Bilbo's feet; it felt like an intimate embrace.

No matter how hard Bombur tried, he wasn't ever going to comfortably fit inside the café's kitchen. It was a pity because Bilbo really enjoyed the larger man's company. Bombur was full of enthusiasm for baked goods and full of recipes and ideas too, so he hung around the kitchen door, enjoying the smells and tasting anything Bilbo experimentally produced. Bombur also frequently wrote positively about Bilbo's café on his food blog - Belladonna had become a frequent visitor to the site and left detailed comments that made Bilbo alternately smile and shake his head. He knew for a bizarre fact that Belladonna had met up with Bombur several times already, the two becoming great friends due to their love of lunch.

As Bombur ate a spoonful of nutloaf with a thoughtful expression, Bifur growled something guttural from behind his laptop. Bilbo's brow wrinkled; he still couldn't understand anything Bifur said. According to the other Durins, it was all due to the thick jagged scar across Bifur's head; the legacy of an apparent mugging (though the Durins had their doubts that it was so coincidental).

"He says your security's for shit," Bofur announced cheerfully. "And that he can upgrade it for you, no problem."

Bilbo glared half-heartedly at Bifur – the man was right, his security was very low-grade as it was all he could afford. However, he wasn't keen on the fact that just because their boss had become something of a regular fixture at the café; certain Durins felt that it was therefore perfectly reasonable for them to stride around and change things in it without Bilbo's permission.

"You're right," Bilbo allowed. "But no changing anything without talking to me first."

Bifur let out a disgruntled string of words but there seemed to be grudging acceptance mixed in there too so Bilbo brought him a slice of sponge cake as a thank-you. Bofur slapped him on the back.

"Nothing for me, after all my tireless translating?"

Bilbo tried to fix him with an unimpressed look but it was difficult when Bofur looked so ridiculous in his earflap hat that canted lopsidedly. Paired with his handlebar moustache, he looked like he'd wandered in from some absurdist play.

"Are you laughing at my hat again? Oh, I should definitely get free cake for that insult."

Bifur muttered something in a tone that made Bilbo grin and Bofur chuck a PG Woodhouse at his cousin.

"I think I should get a cut of the profits," Brinar insisted, as he did every time he visited for a piece of a carrot cake and cream and found that the café was still doing rather well.

"I think you're already getting free cake whenever you want it," Bilbo countered pointedly.

Brinar made a sulky noise. "Your Mum would let me have a cut."

Bilbo was about to voice just how doubtful that fact was when the café door was flung open and Kili and Fili strode in, arm and arm and laughing, both their faces flushed. Kili was wearing a black lace bustier and black jeans with his ever-present Doc Martins; Fili as always was in his custom leathers. The two of them really ought to be illegal, Bilbo thought as he always did whenever they were dressed to kill. He'd voiced that opinion before and Kili had laughed, undulating against his brother, saying that they were illegal already, thanks. Well, he had a point.

Dwalin and Ori were just behind them, Dwalin as always looking terrifying in a rough assortment of leather and denim, his beard bristling and his eyes sweeping the café for threats. There was a scar on his arm that Ori had said was from a foiled attempt on Thorin's life. Ori was decked out in a homemade jumper and his usual sweet smile. He and Dwalin made an incongruous pair, but more than once Bilbo had caught the tender look in Dwalin's eyes as he gazed down at his young boyfriend. Brinar's eyes were very wide as he took in the arresting sight that the group made. Bilbo smiled; it wasn't often that his friend wore such utter speechless shock.

"You're a little early, aren't you, gentlemen?" he asked.

Kili dived down to give Bilbo a noisy kiss on the cheek. "Couldn't wait until the club closed to see you."

"Of course."

Bilbo rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Fili and Kili visited the café very regularly, clearly pleased to find somewhere they could let everything hang out without the police being called – though Bilbo continually made it clear that if he found them having sex in any part of the cafe, they were going to be paying a lot extra. Fili usually replied that that sounded like a challenge.

Bilbo had met most of the Durin clan by now, who were all shapes and sizes and all extremely protective of each other – because of the feud, Balin had said ominously one night – and who didn't often mix with outsiders. Bilbo felt privileged and pleased that his café was considered safe enough territory for them to gather there so often.

Dwalin snorted loudly when Bilbo looked towards him and Ori. "Well, I'm not kissing yer."

"Thank God for that. Tea all round?"

"Aye, do you have any of that rhubarb crumble?" Dwalin wanted to know.

Brinar was gaping at Bilbo, clearly poleaxed. Bilbo savoured the expression on his friend's face. He could get a lot of mileage out of this, especially if Brinar was going to keep going on about having a cut of the profits.

"Oh, Brinar, this is Kili, Fili, Dwalin and Ori, they're regulars here when their club closes. This is Brinar, an old friend who gave me the idea for this place."

The four Durins nodded at him, not offering their hands. Brinar nodded back.

"Fucking hell, Bilbo, I told you you'd be knee-deep in cock."

Kili grinned, sending a lascivious look towards the café owner. "Oh, he could be if he asked nicely…"

"I've told you before, Kili, your glitter won't wash out of my sheets," Bilbo said airily.

"And I don't share," Fili added, possessively cupping Kili's arse.

Bilbo was prevented from saying anything more by a warm arm pressing against his side. He didn't have to look to know who it was; Thorin's expensive aftershave was distinctive, as was the smell of worn leather and the hint of dry ice and something that was always just Thorin. He must have entered the café when everybody was distracted by conversation. Bilbo leaned towards him and Thorin tucked a slow arm around his waist. Bilbo's breath caught – that was new, and very welcome. Had he passed Bifur's security checks? They really needed to talk about that.

He was just turning enquiring eyes towards Thorin when Kili's sharp sly voice cut in.

"Hey, Bilbo, you know the rules about staining the furniture."

-the end