A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed/ favourited/followed so far!

The song Thorin and co sing at the beginning is Loch Lomond and can be found on Youtube here: /watch?v=RJ7f0HUk8OU

Chapter 5 should be up on Wednesday, Thursday at the latest. As always, writing updates can be found on my tumblr - theindianwinter

Hope you enjoy! Do let me know what you think


Love Thy Neighbour

IV

It wasn't that he had missed Bilbo, but that he had not realised how accustomed he had grown to their chats outside on their balconies in a few short weeks until he found himself noticing their absence whilst Bilbo was away.

The month of August seemed to fly by, though each individual week passed at but a crawl.

Late summer had enveloped London in a thick, oppressive heat, broken occasionally by a rain shower that did nothing to ease the muggy air and Thorin wanted nothing more than to lie down in the shade of a tree in the park or take a dip at the local swimming baths.

Instead, he had work, and as much as he generally enjoyed his job, he found passing his days in the stuffy lab rather unbearable. On Saturdays, and the odd evening through the week, he would join Dwalin in the beer garden of the Green Dragon for a pint or two (or ten, on one occasion he regretted heavily the Sunday morning) and they were sometimes joined by Glóin, though his banking job often kept him busy.

It was a happy routine of sorts, and he found himself saddened at the thought it may be lost with the turning of the leaves and the nights drawing in.

The Tuesday after the August Bank Holiday he had booked as a holiday in anticipation of the inevitable hangover. Dwalin had insisted they reinstate their three day pub crawl that had been a tradition of theirs since their university years. Thorin did not realise how much he had missed those long weekends (he usually remembered very little of ) in the three years since his best friend had moved down to London until he was stumbling down the Embankment at four in the morning with Dwalin and Glóin, all three belting out 'Loch Lomond' at the top of their voices.

He did not know what time he awoke on Tuesday, but the sun was unnaturally bright and the three of them were collapsed in an awkward pile on Thorin's bed.

Cheese and bacon, it was decided, was needed urgently.

Unfortunately, Thorin had neither in his fridge at that moment.

Grumbling to himself at how he had to play the errand boy in his own home, he trudged out of the lift, only to lock eyes with Bilbo from across the lobby.

Unwittingly, his lips twitched into a small smile, "You're back."

"That I am," he said as he lugged his two suitcases towards the lift. He stopped and snorted when he got closer, regarding Thorin amusedly. "My, my, aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

"Bank Holiday tradition," Thorin groaned, "I hack it with a lot less grace than I did as a student."

"Don't we all?" Bilbo chuckled.

Deciding his friends could wait, he reached for the handle of the larger suitcase, "Here, let me help you."

Bilbo protested, but relinquished the smaller to him and continued on towards the lift, Thorin falling into step beside him.

"So how was home?"

"Bag-End was same as ever," Bilbo replied fondly. "Prim and Drogo are expecting," he was brimming with barely contained excitement, "And my old friends Saradoc and Esmeralda have finally, finally, gotten engaged."

"That long coming?" he asked, vaguely recollecting the other man mentioning his old friends.

"Well they've only been a couple for three weeks-" Thorin felt his eyebrows soar in disbelief. Three weeks? "-but before that there was ten years of both of them dancing round one another and pining - oh Lord, the pining - and before that was ten years of them being oblivious idiots," his sighed with tender exasperation, "They are simply hopeless."

By now, they had reached Bilbo's front door and the sound of their voices had drawn out the pale heads of Dwalin and Glóin.

The red-haired man narrowed his eyes at his friend accusingly, "You're supposed t' be getting us cheese and bacon."

"Sorry, he was helping me," Bilbo uttered before Thorin could respond. "Allow me to make it up to you - I'll make you toasties."

The pair fixed him with beatific smiles.

"You are a wonderful human being."

Bilbo smirked at the praise, "Thorin go get the ingredients. Boys I'll be through in a moment with my toastie maker."

He shooed at Thorin when he did not move, "Go, go, I need bacon, bread and butter if you do not have them and a ridiculous amount of cheese."

He dragged himself back to the lift, ignoring Dwalin's entertained glance as he passed.

Soon enough for found himself digging into an absolutely delicious toasted sandwich, filled with, as Bilbo had promised, 'an indecent amount of cheese' and paying little heed to the groans he was emitting. Dwalin and Glóin were in much the same state and Bilbo was watching them all, amusement and satisfaction dancing his his eyes as he prepared his own sandwich.

As his back was turned, Glóin leaned over a mumbled to him.

"Never let this one go."

He grunted, at that moment finding himself rather disinclined to argue that he had no claim over his kindly neighbour in the first place, rather he watched Bilbo as he ate, the man's dark blond head bobbing to some inaudible tune, completely unaware of the exchange taking place behind him.


Taking full advantage of the slightly cooler day, Thorin chose to eat his breakfast out on the balcony. The day before's spectacular thunderstorm had broken through the heat and now the air was lighter and far more pleasant. As he bit into his buttery slice of toast, he mused that really, the morning was quite perfect.

Well it would be, if not for that fucking pigeon.

He glared at it, "Don't you have a statue to go shit on?"

He was actually talking to a bird, wasn't he? He was almost as bad as Bilbo.

As if summoned by Thorin's thoughts, the man himself appeared, brandishing a mop and a terrific scowl.

"It is too early for your shit Smaug!" he cried, swiping at the bird with the mop. The bird simply fluttered out of harm's way and landed further along, cooing obnoxiously the whole time.

Bilbo let out a frustrated sound akin to a suppressed scream that made Thorin chuckle.

He whipped around and smiled when he saw Thorin.

It was exactly that moment when Thorin realised his neighbour was shirtless, clad only in his tartan pyjama bottoms that were slung awfully low on his hips.

He knew he was staring, and he knew he was probably being very obvious, but he was once again hit full force with just how strongly attracted to Bilbo Baggins he was.

When his gaze landed upon Bilbo's face he was both blushing and smirking; a confusing but endearing mix of embarrassed and teasing.

After a few beats of silence, the smirk turned self-deprecating and Bilbo prodded at his stomach.

"I should probably eat less cake."

"No!" The word was ripped from him before he could do anything about it. Bilbo was looking at him, taken aback and Thorin knew he was positively beetroot. "Erm...that is to say," he sighed, closing his eyes and willing his blush away, "You… you look fine. Truly."

His neighbour smiled then, a small genuine one that sent a jolt through his stomach.

"Thank you," he said gently.

Smaug's insufferable calls cut through the silence that rested between them and Bilbo rounded on the pigeon, brandishing the mop in what Thorin guessed was supposed to be an intimidating manner.

He snickered at the man's behaviour and returned indoors.

He ignored the niggling thought in the back of his mind telling him he was in an awful lot of trouble.


There was a knock on his door. Thorin frowned down at the page in his book. When the second came, he stood, heaving a sigh as he did so.

It was Bofur.

His frown deepened, "Can I help you?"

"It's about Bilbo," Bofur replied. His eyes always had this twinkle in them, as if he knew something no-one else did and found it incredibly amusing. It was a little unsettling. His dark eyes pointedly slid from Thorin's face, over his shoulder into his flat.

Not bothering to withhold his sigh, Thorin stepped aside, granting the Irishman entry.

Only once the door was shut did Bofur speak.

"Has Bilbo mentioned his birthday to you at all?"

"Only in passing. It's later this month, correct?"

"The 22nd. Anyway, since you and he have become friendly as of late-" Thorin did not appreciate the innuendo laden in Bofur's tone - there was nothing going on between him and Bilbo, really. "-I was wondering if you'd like to help?"

Thorin was starting to feel as if he'd missed something.

"With what?"

Bofur gave a huff of exasperation that evoked an image of Bilbo when he encountered someone particularly obtuse (that someone quite often being Thorin).

"Why his surprise party of course!"

Surprised, he stilled for a moment, touched, but not wishing to show it, that Bilbo's closest friend had asked him to help with this.

Nodding, he said curtly, "I'll help."

"Excellent," Bofur grinned. Then his eyes caught the paperback Thorin had left carelessly on his glass coffee table and pinned him with a dangerous, knowing look.

"So you're reading Bilbo's book?"

He shrugged, turning sharply to the kitchen to hide his light flush and set about filling up the kettle to prepare some tea.

"What is it you'd like me to do?"

"Well, you have Friday afternoons off, right?"

With a suspicious glance, Thorin asked, "How do you know that?"

Wafting his hand dismissively, Bofur breezed, "Oh Bilbo told me."

His stomach clenching, he turned sharply from the mug cupboard, almost smacking his head on the door in the process, "Bilbo talks about me?"

There was that discerning look again, but otherwise Bofur paid his comment no heed, "So I was going to ask if you could meet some of Bilbo's friends from home at the station?"

Not wanting to admit how he had almost failed in that task when it involved his own nephews, he agreed.

"Great, so Nori is calling Bilbo in for a meeting on the Friday afternoon, so if you can keep them entertained here until I get back from work, that would be great."

"They can stay here if they…" he trailed off as the other man started to shake his head.

"No, you live next door, he may hear you. No there's six of them, so two are going to stay with Gandalf and the other four with me - I have a sofa bed you see, for when my brother and his brood come over from Ireland. All you need to do is see them here from Paddington."

Easier said than done.

That was a different station, he vaguely recollected it being somewhere in West London.

As long as he made it there alright, he shouldn't have too many problems getting back.

"And I'm guessing you'll want help with setting up on Saturday too?"

"Perfect, it's going to be in the big room downstairs. The nice one, not that awful dark one Thranduil keeps trying to commandeer as a wine cellar."

Thorin repressed a shudder at the thought of the pretentious twat up on the fifth floor. He had only encountered him once. It had not ended well. Thorin may have said some things along the lines of the man's (very impressive) eyebrows being more generous in size than certain...appendages.

To be fair the man had tried to make some disparaging remark about both Thorin's then long hair and his Scottish heritage, the snooty git.

Noting Thorin's obvious distaste, Bofur grinned again, though this time there was no teasing in his dark eyes, "So you've crossed with Mr High-and-Mighty-with-a-stick-up-his-arse then?"

Thorin snorted, "I've had the displeasure."

"I think I heard about that, didn't you tell him where to stick his precious walking cane?"

Thorin nodded proudly, setting the two mugs of tea down on the table. He sat down opposite Bofur as the other man wondered just why Thranduil had need of a walking cane, well other than for looking like 'even more of a dick than he already does'.

Quite happily, he spent the next half hour mainly listening as Bofur dished out all the salacious details of Arda Court's inhabitants, most of whom Thorin only knew well enough to put a name to a face. It turned out the entire fifth floor were, as Bofur so quaintly put it, a 'bunch of complete and utter twats'.

At about four o'clock, Bofur excused himself as he was working down at the Green Dragon that evening, but left with a promise to get in touch soon with the finite details for meeting Bilbo's friends.

Once he was gone, Thorin sighed at the restored peace and returned to his book.

He was rather enjoying it.


"Are we lost?" a voice to his left said dryly.

Thorin turned and glared at the smaller blond man - Saradoc ('call me Sara'), if he remembered rightly - who had fallen into step beside him.

"No," he ground out stubbornly.

There were lost, but he wasn't going to admit that here, not to Bilbo's friends.

"Oh? It's just we just passed a sign that seems to be pointing us back towards Paddington."

Fortunately, the man didn't sound too mocking, largely concerned and confused.

London was huge; he considered it perfectly acceptable that he still did not know his way around after living there for four months.

"Are you sure you know where we're going?" Sara's fiancee, Esmeralda, asked in a similar concerned tone, though hers held a more obvious undercurrent of amusement.

He frowned down at the screen of his phone were the blue line and arrow on Google Maps scornfully told him, that yes, he had absolutely no fucking clue what he was supposed to be doing.

"We may be somewhat...geographically misplaced, but I'm sure we'll be fine."

He kept his eyebrows pulled together sternly in a feeble attempt to counteract the heat he could feel flaring up on his cheeks - that was happening an awful lot to him lately, the flushes, perhaps he should do see the doctor.

There were all regarding him with varying looks of incredulity.

"I thought you said you knew how to get back?" Tolman raised a dark brow.

He held up his hand so they could see where he had once again meticulously scrawled the directions for taking the Tube, "I did, but some people-" he glared at each of them in turn, "-insisted on walking, because the day was 'just so lovely,'" the last bit was said in a mocking higher toned voice.

Esme narrowed her eyes at the phone in his hand, "Wait you're lost even with Google Maps?"

"The app lies!" he cried out frustratedly.

Lily, Tolman's girlfriend, snatched the phone from his hand, taking an about turn and beginning to stalk off, all with only a muttered, "Leave it to me."

Now without the responsibility of leading, he found it much easier to have a polite conversation with Bilbo's old friends.

Esme, it turned out, was a GP, and so she soon settled in talking to him about his work in pharmaceutical research whilst her fiance engaged his old friend in a conversation about the rugby or cricket - it was some sport Thorin had no great interest in, though that was not really saying much, as he had no great interest in sport in general.

She was rather pleasant company and the walk flew by and before he knew it, he was stood before Arda Court. A very smug looking Lily handed his phone back to him and he glared back, then glanced at the time.

"Bofur will be back soon," he noted.

"Well wasn't that just a perfectly planned diversion to pass the time?" Tolman commented sarcastically.

Leading them through the lobby, Thorin sent a message to Bofur letting him know they had arrived back (and made it sound as if they had been there for some time and he had only just remembered to message).

"You know what?" Sara commented, "I'm just gasping for a cup of tea."


It fell to Bilbo's friend Ori to keep him occupied and out of Arda for the duration of Saturday. Thorin was helping with setting up in the afternoon and so spent his morning in a leisurely fashion, lounging about in his pyjamas.

Therefore it was a complete surprise to him when he was descended upon by Bilbo's cousin and his pregnant wife.

Drogo had been unable to take the Friday off work and so they had had to come down on the Saturday morning and would spend it with the others, or so he'd been told.

He had just finished breakfast when there was a knock on the door. He blinked, still slightly bleary-eyed from sleep, at the two people on the threshold.

"Thorin Oakenshield?" the woman asked. She was small and had bright hazel eyes. He had no time to process much more as, at his nod, she made a strange noise and enveloped him in a bracing hug.

The man offered him a sympathetic look.

"Prim," he said, "Don't you think you should introduce yourself before you tackle the man?"

So this was Prim and Drogo, now that he thought about it he could see Bilbo in the set of his cousin's jaw and the light, greyish-blue of his eyes.

Primula let go and stepped back to offer him her hand, "Primula Baggins, it's a pleasure."

Giving her a small, genuine smile, for it was very difficult to dislike Primula already, despite her forward nature, Thorin took her hand, "The pleasure's all mine."

Her husband gave a short, firm handshake and simply stated, "Drogo."

They already knew his name, so he simply nodded to Drogo and let them both in.

"Bilbo's told me all about you both," he offered conversationally, leading the pair into the kitchen and putting the kettle on automatically. If Primula and Drogo were anything like Bilbo, they would want tea - on the few occasions they had taken tea in each other's flat, Bilbo always prepared himself a large mug of tea, even in Thorin's flat, where he set about as if he owned the place, ignoring the occupant's protests.

"He mentioned you too," Drogo replied. He said nothing further when Thorin glanced at him and instead moved to Thorin's side and pointed to the red berry tea Fíli liked so much, indicating that that was for Prim, who was understandably avoiding caffeine.

Clearing his throat, he moved his gaze over the couple, "I wish to offer my congratulations on the baby," he said, hating how formal he sounded. "Bilbo is rather excited about it, or at least, I think he is - whenever he talks about it, he descends into incomprehensible babbling."

Drogo beamed proudly as he thanked him, but Primula was giving Thorin an appraising look he did not know how to interpret.

Only once Drogo's tea had steeped enough, and he was setting the three mugs on the table, did she speak.

"I'm curious," she began, "As to the sudden change in the relationship between Bilbo and yourself - one minute he's ranting about his incredibly rude neighbour and the next you're calling him up out of the blue - as are your nephews - and helping set up his birthday party."

Thorin knew he was probably caught with an uncharacteristic deer-in-the-headlights expression upon his face, not helped by the pitying look Drogo was giving him alongside his wife's hard stare.

"I'm sorry to say I was not enjoying my first month or so here in London and when I am feeling particularly grumpy I'm ruder than I am normally," he was wincing as he admitted this, not one to acknowledge his own faults out loud, though his mind more than made up for that, "And I have never been one to be polite without absolutely having to be."

Primula was still looking at him expectantly, but her gaze had soften somewhat. Realising then that the stern look had been a mechanism to get him to talk, he mentally slapped himself - it was one of his sister's favourite tactics after all.

"Your nephews enjoy his books, don't they?"

Thorin almost hugged Drogo for the diversion, certain that if Primula carried on quizzing him about Bilbo much longer they would pick up on how captivated he was by their old friend.

And then he sat and talked about his nephews for a while, listened as Prim and Drogo talked about their own families and found himself incredibly relieved that the dangerous subject of his relationship - no, friendship - with Bilbo was not brought up again.


The afternoon passed in a blur of moving tables, setting out buffet food and blowing up balloons and Thorin discovered he rather enjoyed himself in the company of Bilbo's other friends. Bofur and Esme found out they both had the same wicked sense of humour and took great pleasure in entertaining the others with their sharp witty commentary of anything and everything.

Much to the glee of the others, Thorin found himself roped into Bofur's mocking impression of the residents of the fifth floor - strutting about with his nose in the air and a rogue block of wood as a walking cane, sipping his Ribena with an exaggerated air of superiority and making ridiculous comments about its bouquet.

Soon enough, he was stood in the dark, listening to Bilbo's confused mutterings as Ori led him down the staircase. As the lights turned on Bilbo gasped, eyes glistening in delight then he launched himself at Bofur to hug his friend, babbling his gratitude. Bofur whispered something and before Thorin knew it, the air whooshed out of him as he was engulfed in a tight embrace. He returned it gently, then muttered in Bilbo's ear, "You might want to see who else is here."

His friend pulled back in confusion and he jerked his head towards where Bilbo's six friends from Little Bagshot stood, smile widening as Bilbo dashed towards them, all seven making incomprehensible noises of excitement.

Sharing a satisfied nod with Bofur, he set off for the buffet table. Once he had filled up his plate, he turned to face the room; Bilbo seemed to have got through greeting most of his guests, the room was now filled with the hum of various conversations. Bypassing Dwalin, who was engaged in a flirtatious back-and-forth with Bilbo's publisher, Nori, he joined Drogo and Ori as they discussed a new drama on the Spanish Armada and its historical accuracy. Thorin, who had only had chance to watch the first episode so far gave a few small contributions but was otherwise content to listen to the other two; Ori in particular had some rather intriguing insights. Once his plate was empty, he excused himself to go get a drink.

Bilbo was engaged in a lively conversation with Sara and Esme as Thorin passed by on his way back that he was unwillingly dragged into by a smirking Esme to defend himself against their unfavourable descriptions of the previous day's journey from Paddington to Arda.

Patting his forearm consolingly, Bilbo leaned towards the others, a conspiratory grin upon his face, "Thorin is terrible with getting lost."

He opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again when the others looked at him with eyebrows raised in amusement that he would even try and refute such a plain truth.

"One time, Dwalin told me, after a night out, Thorin got lost trying to find his own flat."

He was going to be having words with Dwalin.

Since it had happened whilst he was in Gloucestershire, Thorin had been hoping Bilbo would never find out about Gandalf discovering him one Sunday morning, curled behind a plant-plot on the second floor landing.

Esme snorted, "It's not as bad as the time you two couldn't find the door to get back in when we had that massive party in the Borough and we found you the following morning passed out in the garden, spooning."

Esme then took great delight in recounting the misadventures of their group of friends in their twenties, especially at the many parties held at her family home Tuckborough - or 'the Borough' as it was known locally - whilst her parents were away on holiday.

Throughout the entire conversation, Bilbo and Saradoc had been steadily avoiding one another's gaze and shifting uncomfortably. Esme, picking up on this, snorted, cutting off her description of Drogo's drunk dancing to ask, "What's got into you two?"

When neither offered a response, both looking shiftily at the floor, she cried out in a mix of delight and disbelief.

"No!" Then quieter, she added, "You didn't?!"

At Saradoc's feeble nod she descended into giggles. Looking between the three of them, Thorin soon caught on. Ah.

"We were drunk!" Sara protested loudly, "But there was no touching of parts!"

This of course, drew the attention of most people in the vicinity, especially Tolman and Prim who were talking with Bofur. Bilbo suddenly looked very interested in what was left of his drink of beer. Esme skipped over to their friends, a mischievous grin on her face, no doubt intending to recount their conversation, and Sara hurried after her, probably to attempt damage control.

There was something slightly despondent in Bilbo's eyes and at that point, Thorin recalled a throwaway comment the other had made of his hopeless crush on Saradoc.

Leaning in, Thorin supplied a quiet, "Did I ever tell you about my own tragic infatuation with a friend?"

Bilbo's mouth was still hidden behind his plastic cup, but his gaze cleared and turned interested.

"Glóin."

Spitting out his mouthful of beer back into his cup, Bilbo turned to him wide eyed.

"Glóin?!" he spluttered, "As in family-man banker Glóin?"

"The very same," he nodded. "He was quite the looker back then."

Bilbo was grinning at him in amusement and the room suddenly became much too warm. Excusing himself to go get some air, he hastened towards the staircase, ignoring Dwalin's wink as he passed his friend and his path up through the lobby to Arda Court's small court yard was much too long. He took a deep breath, trying to push away the bright face that clung to the forefront of his mind.

Oh boy, was he in so much trouble.