first things first, I have to say that all my anon and not anon reviews/comments were wonderful, and you all deserve a platonic hug of gratitude. seriously. Thanks.
This one seems a bit short to me, but I promise I'll be quick with the next one. I think some rugby action is due, no?
Sun shone through his blinds, forming horizontal patterns across the room as he awoke. For a moment, Bilbo stiffened, having forgotten where he was. He sighed and stretched, groaning as he sat up and looked around. The room seemed colder when it was this silent, somehow not living up to the first impression he had with the flat yesterday.
He pulled on a striped jumper and black jeans, not bothering with socks or a belt. There was still a week until school stared, before then he didn't need to get into the habit of dressing properly. Bilbo always had to look right and present himself well, he had his family name to uphold, after all.
He rubbed his eyes as he padded to the kitchen, silently checking whether his guests had stayed or not. He peeked through the doorway, kneading and wringing his hands nervously as he went. Once he saw that not only was the kitchen empty, but that it was spotless, he sighed in relief. The rest of the flat was also empty, albeit some new knick-knacks probably belonging to Thorin.
Bilbo groaned as he remembered the night before. A rugby player like him, using his dishes and snoring and tracking mud on his carpet and using his shower, the thought made Bilbo bristle. He then wondered if the entire event had been a dream, some sick and twisted nightmare brought upon by stress and working too hard. Bilbo disproved this idea when he opened the fridge and cupboards to find them empty.
"I'll get breakfast." a low, groggy voice made Bilbo start and turn to see Thorin toeing on his shoes. He was wearing a pair of sweat pants that rode very low on his hips, along with a tight black T-shirt that made his biceps look obscene. He also hadn't shaved, which annoyed Bilbo for some reason.
"Um-" Bilbo's protests were cut short when Thorin's bright, proud eyes met his. He felt all of his thoughts leave his brain and pool at his cheeks, settling as a hot blush. All Bilbo could do was swallow and rock back gently on his heels, quickly averting his gaze. "W-what was all that about being a scrimmy?"
"Scrummy" Thorin jingled his keys next to his thigh.
"Oh."
"Gandalf told us you'd make a good one." Thorin's gaze kept on Bilbo, almost judgemental. Bilbo visibly shrank at his voice.
"Well, I've never really played before, but I've seen a couple of games and it looks really scary. Um, no offense. There were people carried off the field with broken noses and, um, other injuries. It looks really rough, b-but if you need someone. . ." Bilbo trailed off, cheeks even hotter than they were before. Thorin only nodded.
"You want Chinese?" his keys jingled again.
"Well, I can hardly consider-"
The door closing firmly cut Bilbo off midscentence, leaving him to fume silently in the small flat. Bilbo turned on the kettle and muttered to himself about manners and people growing up in caves, but after his tea he felt a little better. He even washed his cup before returning it to its rightful place next to the bowls.
Thorin returned about fifteen minutes later with small takeout boxes and chopsticks. He sat across from Bilbo and slid the box with chopsticks over. Bilbo could feel the taller man's eyes on him as he fumbled to open the box.
"So," Thorin began, using his huge hands to pry open his own container, "tell me what you already know."
Bilbo blinked, mouth half full of noodles, "What I know?"
Thorin sighed and fixed Bilbo with another annoyed look. The man had a very imposing personality, and Bilbo almost hid under the table from his gaze, "Rugby? Ever heard of it?"
"Oh!" Bilbo choked out, he chewed and swallowed the contents of his mouth, then took a breath, "Well, I know that there's a scrum, and a bunch of the players bend over and push each other around. Then someone puts the ball in the middle."
"You do." Thorin's low voice cut in.
"What?"
Another sigh, "The scrummie rolls the ball into the scrum."
Bilbo paused for a moment, "Right. Well, after that, the same person gets the ball out and passes it to someone on the left or right, depending on their field position."
"That's me."
Bilbo pursed his lips and cocked his head to the side.
Thorin leaned over his breakfast, getting even closer to Bilbo than he wished, "I'm your flyhalf, the scrumhalf almost always passes toe ball to the flyhalf. I make the plays and sometimes kick."
Something about the way Thorin said I'm your flyhalf made Bilbo blush furiously, he subconsciously bit his lips and fidgeted in his chair. "I- um," Bilbo cleared his throat after his voice cracked and slid down in his seat slightly, "Well, I also know that you can't pass forward. Nothing but backwards. And the kicker also has to be in front of everyone before they can move forward."
Thorin leaned back again and nodded, running his hand over his face and scratching his stubble. "You know anything about lineouts?" he rumbled solemnly.
"Not really," Bilbo wrung his hands to keep them from trembling, "is it when the ball goes out?"
Thorin rolled his eyes once more and stabbed at his food, "You'll learn at practice today."
Bilbo blinked, struck dumb, dropping his chopsticks into his massacred meal. "Umm, what was that? Because I thought you just said-"
"Practice, at two. It's mandatory for the first one." Thorin slurped up the last of his noodles and crushed the box, letting some of the juice dribble onto the table. His lips turned up into a somewhat satisfied sneer, and he looked back to Bilbo, and shrugged gruffly "What?"
"I don't even have a decent pair of trainers!" he scoffed, "and I hardly think that I'm someone who you'll want on the team. I am far to delicate, and I can hardly run or lift half of my weight! I once tried to play football and nearly broke my ankle! I'd also be falling all over the place. When I try to run, it's like I have huge duck feet! I can't possibly-"
"Bilbo." Thorin's tone alone shut him up. The low growl was more than enough to let Bilbo know he was done with talking. Bilbo sat back, wide eyed, and let Thorin continue.
"If you put as much energy you have with talking into sports, I think you'd make a half-decent player." Thorin almost sneered when Bilbo's face turned bright red and he tried to babble an apology.
"It's fine," Thorin stood and tossed the remains of his meal into the trash, "So long as I take you shopping." Bilbo's face reddened even further at this.
"What-I-um-well-"
"There's a sportcheck a few blocks from here over on Dale street. You could probably get all your equipment from there."
Bilbo's shoulders sagged almost in relief. He stood and closed his unfinished box of food. Thorin leaned up against the table and watched as Bilbo hurried to put away the rest of his meal. Bilbo was panicking a little bit, partly because he knew that Thorin's eyes were on him, but mostly because he would have to push past said roommate in order to throw his chopsticks into the trash and escape. His ears throbbed as he cleared his throat, hurrying to pass through. Bilbo tried to ignore the heat his right arm felt when he allowed it to brush against Thorin's chest, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when a low chuckle rumbled behind him.
"I'm not going to eat you." Thorin's eyes sparkled as Bilbo turned to face him. All Bilbo could do was laugh nervously and scurry off to find a pair of socks. Once safely in his room, he absently fixed his mess of loose curls in the mirror for a moment before slipping on his shoes. He took one deep breath and emerged from his hiding place. Thorin already had his shoes on and was out the door before Bilbo could catch up to him.
Bilbo shut the door gently and scurried over to Thorin's side, nearly tripping down the steps in order to keep up. Thorin led him through the busy street into an even busier parking lot. There he opened the door to a red ford Ranger, and ushered Bilbo to take shotgun.
The truck rumbled to life and sped out of the lot, Thorin not wasting any time between lights. Bilbo stiffened and tightly grasped his seat, heart racing. If Thorin noticed Bilbo's plight, he paid no attention, and continued driving.
The ride was silent, the only sound was Bilbo's quiet sigh once Thorin pulled in and parked inside the mall. Thorin quickly glanced at Bilbo before shoving his keys into his pocket.
They entered through the food court, which was packed with new students or young kids trying to get the last of their summer holiday in. Bilbo recognized a few people that he briefly met on campus, whom he waved to or smiled at. The smells and sounds were almost too much for him to handle, having never seen so many people in such a small place. He was about to turn to Thorin and exclaim his astonishment when his face fell.
Bilbo felt his breathing hitch when he realized that Thorin had disappeared. Bilbo's mind raced as he turned in circles, searching people's faces for his new friend, but finding nothing. He walked farther into the mall and through the food court, glancing into the stores quietly. He was about to walk back to the entrance when a gentle tug on his sleeve made Bilbo squeak and whirl around.
Thorin was looking down at him with a slightly annoyed expression on his face. Bilbo nearly flushed a deep purple and tried to sputter an apology.
"Try not to get lost." Thorin grumbled and pushed past Bilbo, quietly sighing to himself.
The Sportcheck was surprisingly empty when they arrived, and Thorin absently led time towards the clothing section like he owned the place. The staff greeted or smiled at him quietly as he passed, and Thorin nodded politely.
"You a size 30?" He asked dismissively as he picked out a pair of navy blue shorts and tossed them at Bilbo, who could do nothing but stare.
Thorin ended up buying Bilbo a mouthguard, socks, trainers, shorts, cleats, spandex and a practice jersey in less than fifteen minutes. Bilbo also noticed the way that the cashier giggled and blushed at him like a fourteen year old girl. Bilbo grew annoyed at her attentions and decided to not say thank you on the way out.
Bilbo checked the pricetags on his new items on his way home, and gaped at the amount of numbers. Of course, he knew that equipment was expensive, but the price for a pair of shorts shouldn't be above thirty dollars.
"Um, this is-"
"It's fine." Thorin grumbled, not bothering to look over at the smaller man.
"But this is a lot of-" Bilbo began to protest, but again Thorin cut him off.
"I said it's fine." he retorted again, with a sort of finality in his voice that made Bilbo quiver.
Thorin let Bilbo out in front of Bag End, keeping the car running.
"I'll meet you over on the field in an hour. Don't be late."
Bilbo stood on the sidewalk for a long moment after Thorin had driven away, wondering where and when in the world he had sinned badly enough to deserve what was happening to him.
I know, short chapter is short and boring. I'm trying sexual tension but I can't seem to get it right. It's a new challenge that I'm trying to conquer.
Free cookies to someone who finds a little reference from another martin freeman role. ;)
Keep on reading, thanks so much for the support.