Chapter Text
Thorin was leaning on his elbows, sketching in his practice pad, when the bell above the shop door tinkled, alerting him that someone had entered. He didn't look up immediately - oftentimes, the people who came into his small, dark shop on the side alley of Erebor's main street were here for a specific reason, and so he could likely trust them. Besides, everything valuable was locked away in thick glass cabinets, and he had two cameras set up to deter any would-be thieves. He continued drawing, and waited for whoever it was to approach.
Thorin knew that his was not the only tattoo and piercing shop in the city. After all, Erebor was a large, bustling metropolis, having spread and developed over the hundreds of years since it had first been built at the base of the mountain. There was bound to be some competition, no matter what your trade was. But he was quite proud of the fact that his customers, regardless of whether they were returning or coming to him new, frequently stated that it was widely known that the Metallurgist, his tiny little shop, was the only place to go for an extremely efficient and reasonably priced service.
He'd found through many years of trial and error that he made a lot more sales when he left people to browse the jewellery and drawings that occupied every spare space along the shop's walls, or until they had built up the nerve to engage him in conversation. He'd been told on more than one occasion that he looked intimidating, with his long black hair, broad shoulders, pierced ears, heavily tattooed arms and not-so-friendly resting facial expression. So he kept his eyes fixed on the paper in front of him, his pencil effortlessly creating light and shade throughout the spread wings of the thrush that he'd been sketching for the past hour, until someone interrupted him.
"Wow, that's beautiful."
The stranger’s voice was soft, almost awestruck, and the gentleness in his tone made Thorin finally glance up. He froze at the sight before him. The man standing on the other side of the counter was not his usual customer; in fact, he looked like he'd wandered in here by mistake in search of a local deli on his lunch break from whatever important office job he would spend the majority of his life in. He wore a brown argyle sweater vest, underneath which was a crisp white shirt, likely ironed that morning, Thorin thought. He had brown chinos on and sensible leather shoes, and his light brown, curly hair was neatly styled.
Thorin breathed in, ready to ask if he needed directions to somewhere else. But before he could, he almost choked when the most delicious aroma reached his nostrils. The man smelled like fresh-baked bread, mixed with the nostalgic scent of old pages, and running through it was something both floral and spicy that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. The combined aroma caused his brain to stagger, the words sticking in his throat, and when he didn't speak, the man met his gaze, then blushed. "S-sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt -"
"You're alright," Thorin rumbled, finally regaining enough of his senses to close his sketchbook and straighten up. As he rose, he realised that even the highest curl on top of the man's head was only just level with his bristled chin, and he had to tilt his head down slightly to address him. "How can I help? Lost, are you?"
He watched with a little flare of amusement as the shorter man drew himself up to his full height, his seemingly soft rounded body becoming something else entirely as he held himself imperiously. His wool-clad shoulders squared, and he tilted his own, clean-shaven chin upwards in order to stare right into Thorin's eyes. He looked so defiant, so determined, that Thorin almost laughed. But something in the man's sharp, hazel eyes killed the urge dead.
"I know exactly where I am, thank you very much," the stranger said, his voice only trembling slightly. "This is a piercing shop, yes? Well, I'd like you to give me a piercing. Er, please."
"A piercing," Thorin mused, then leaned forwards on his elbows again, maintaining eye contact as he added, "Where do you want piercing? Eyebrow? Lip? Nipple?"
He’d thrown that one in to see how serious this guy was, to test his reactions. To his surprise, the man chuckled, his whole body relaxing again, and he leaned forward, one hand resting on Thorin's counter. It brought him closer, and Thorin breathed in surreptitiously, still fighting hard to not get lost in this stranger's scent.
"God, no," the man smiled, and oh. Oh, shit . That smile was something to behold. It appeared on his face so easily, as though it was quite comfortable, quite familiar with its place there. The corners of his eyes crinkled with it, small dimples tugging at his plump cheeks, and his teeth flashed, white and bright, from between his parted lips. Thorin's heart stuttered a little at the sight, and he mentally shook himself as the man went on, "No, I was hoping for an ear piercing." And with that, he pointed to his right earlobe.
"I ... Do you know much about piercings?" Thorin asked carefully, watching the man's face twist from that stunning grin to a frown of confusion, which unfortunately was hardly better than the smile. If he kept scrunching his nose like that, Thorin was going to be in real trouble.
"I know about the process, if that's what you mean?"
"I meant about the symbolism of an ear piercing for men," Thorin said slowly, watching as the frown deepened, and as the crinkle across the bridge of the stranger's nose tightened, he had to grip the counter as his knees actually weakened. Fucking hell, what’s wrong with me ? He hoped that the stranger couldn’t hear the strain in his voice as he explained, "Historically, if a man had his right earlobe pierced, it was done as a secret signal that he was gay. It's not so much a thing anymore, but some people still see it like that."
"Oh." That damned crease finally disappeared as the man's frown eased, as he blushed again. He lifted his hand from the countertop in favour of fidgeting with the fingers of his other hand, and he looked anywhere but at Thorin as he murmured, "Well, I suppose that wouldn't really matter to me, um ... It would ... It would be accurate, as the case may be."
"Oh." Thorin blinked, unsure about how he was supposed to respond to this information. When his brain couldn't come up with anything intelligent, he simply said, "Alright, then. Why don't you follow me, and we'll get you pierced."
"Just like that?" the man squeaked, his eyes going round, his mouth dropping open. This time, Thorin allowed himself a little laugh.
"Well, there's a medical form I need you to fill out first, so I know that you're not going to faint or bleed out on me, as well as a statement of consent. But yes, if you really want to do this, we can get it done, just like that."
Thorin didn't wait for the man's reply. Instead, he turned on his heel, and stepped out from behind the counter, making his way down the narrow corridor that led to the two rooms at the back of the shop. The other room held a truly minuscule bathroom, but the room he entered was just big enough for a reclining tattoo chair for his clients, a rolling stool for Thorin, and a trolley that held all of his supplies. He dug around in one of the trolley's drawers, all the while listening intently. This was the man's first opportunity to call the whole thing off. With Thorin out of the way, he could just leave the shop and never return, if he so wished.
For some reason, Thorin found that he was actually impressed when he heard the man's soft footfalls following his own just seconds later, but he kept his attention on the drawer until he'd located the necessary documents. He turned to find the stranger lingering in the doorway uncertainly, and Thorin tried his hardest at a welcoming smile as he indicated the fully reclined chair, lined with fresh medical paper.
"Take a seat up here while you fill these out, and I'll get everything ready," he instructed quietly. The man nodded and did as he was told. Thorin noted that his fingers were trembling ever so slightly, so while he sorted through the sealed needles to find the correct size, he gave the man his second get-out-of-jail-free opportunity and asked, "Have you eaten today?"
"Only some toast this morning," the man murmured as he scribbled on the form. Thorin opened his mouth to suggest that that perhaps had not been enough to go ahead with the piercing, but the man wasn't finished. "Then a cereal bar with my mid-morning coffee, and an egg mayo sandwich with salt and vinegar crisps and a slice of home-made carrot cake for lunch." Those hazel eyes lifted from the paper to twinkle at him, and Thorin could only have described that look as mischievous. "I read that it was important to have balanced your blood sugar levels before a piercing, you see."
"Right," Thorin breathed, sinking onto his wheeled stool when his knees turned weak once more at the cheeky grin that split the customer’s face. He was really becoming quite concerned with the effect that this stranger was having on him. In a desperate attempt to retain some sense of normalcy, he held out his hand for the man's completed forms and scanned them quickly before looking up to meet his gaze again. "Bilbo?"
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Bilbo grimaced, and the petulant expression coupled with the way that his feet dangled off the side of the chair made him look all at once very young. "My mum was really into fantasy books, read loads of them while she was pregnant with me."
"I like it." He'd heard himself say it, but he didn't believe that he'd actually said it out loud until Bilbo looked up at him, his eyebrows raised. To his own horror, Thorin felt his cheeks heating, and he stammered, "I, er, I mean ... Would be hypocritical of me, right? To make fun of someone else's name when my parents went down the Norse Mythology route for mine."
"At least yours alludes to power," Bilbo sighed, and once again, Thorin was left dumbstruck. At his silence, Bilbo looked concerned. "That's right, isn't it? You're named after Thor, the God of strength?"
"Yes. Sorry, it's just ... Not a lot of people know that." Thorin cleared his throat and focused on setting up his table, trying to ignore the feel of Bilbo's eyes following him around the all at once too small space. Finally, he had everything that he needed, and he pulled on a pair of black gloves and turned to face Bilbo with a pen and a toothpick in his hands. He rubbed the blunted end of the pick on the pen, gathering ink from the tip, before he capped it and stuck it behind his ear. "Now, I'll just mark the correct positioning with this ink, and then I'll get you to have a look before we go ahead, alright?"
"Is ... Is it going to hurt? The piercing, I mean." Bilbo sounded more than a little nervous now, and Thorin's first impulse was to make some dry comment about pain tolerance. But he didn't. Perhaps it was the way Bilbo was looking at him with such trust that made him re-consider his usually brusque response.
Instead, he said carefully, “It's not painless, but if you sit nice and still for me, then I'd be able to do it quickly and it would all be over before you notice.”
Bilbo hesitated for only one more minute before he nodded resolutely, sitting up straight and brushing his curls behind his right ear, out of the way. Thorin was instantly distracted by how shapely the man’s ear was, the tip curving gently up into a very slight point. He’d seen many people try to recreate this look – with metal cuffs, or cleverly-placed piercings, and sometimes with surgery. But he could tell that this was simply the natural shape of Bilbo’s ear, and as he leaned in to take hold of the lobe between his gloved fingers, he wondered if the man’s other ear was the same.
His query was soon forgotten when he lifted the blunt end of the toothpick in his other hand, and the automatic process of marking out a piercing location took over. He was so concentrated on his task, on ensuring that the dot landed in the centre of Bilbo’s lobe and that the man had no scars that might interfere with the needle, that he didn’t realise how quiet the room had become until he sat back to examine his placement.
The silence around them was almost deafening, and when he glanced at Bilbo, he felt a jolt of electricity shoot up his spine at the expression on the man’s face. Bilbo was staring at him, something unreadable shining in his eyes, his round cheeks flushed and his mouth hanging slightly agape. An unbidden mental image of him making that same expression while he was under Thorin made the piercer suck in a sharp breath, and the sound broke the spell around them.
Bilbo dropped his gaze to his own lap, and Thorin cleared his throat, scrabbling for the clamp that he’d left out on the top of the trolley. It took more than a few seconds for his heart rate to slow down, for him to be able to lift his hand without fear that it might shake and give him away. When he was finally calm enough, he lifted the clamp and turned back to his customer to ask softly, "Last chance, Bilbo. You sure you want this?"
He almost swallowed his tongue when Bilbo looked right at him, hazel eyes wide and innocent and still so bloody trusting. The very small amount of air between them tightened again, and Thorin felt hot all over, a feeling he hadn't experienced in a very long time clawing at his ribs. Get a grip, Durin, he's just a customer. Just get the bloody job done .
"I'm sure," Bilbo said firmly, and Thorin nodded, made himself break away from the man's gaze as he closed the clamp over Bilbo’s lobe and lined the needle up.
"Breathe in for me," he murmured, and waited for Bilbo's chest to expand. "Now out ... Good, there you go."
The needle slid easily through Bilbo's ear, exactly where Thorin had intended it to go. He released the clamp and sat back slightly, checking the positioning of the piercing one final time before reaching out beside him for the small steel barbel he’d prepared earlier.
"Is it done?" Bilbo asked, his voice trembling, and Thorin paused, scanning the man's face. He was a little pale, but his eyes were still sharp, focused. He didn't look in imminent danger of collapsing, which reassured Thorin enough that he continued with his task.
"We're done with the first part, I just need to put the jewellery in now. Doing OK?"
"Yeah," Bilbo sighed, then let out a relieved little laugh. "You were right, it really didn't hurt all that much."
"That's because you did as you were told," Thorin said simply, carefully keeping his eyes trained on the bar as he removed the ball from one end of it.
"I'm not usually very good at that," Bilbo admitted quietly as Thorin leaned in to slot the end of the barbel into the hollow needle. It pulled through smoothly, and Thorin discarded the needle in his sharps box before returning to add the backing on to the bar. He almost dropped the tiny threaded ball when Bilbo added, almost absent-mindedly, "I'm usually the one doing the telling."
Thorin’s brain was so truly frazzled by this whole interaction, his whole body aching from fighting back the urge to act on his impulses, that he didn’t have anything left in him to respond to that comment appropriately. Instead, he focused on cleaning the pen from Bilbo’s ear and hurriedly tidying away the empty packaging and used tools. He would usually wait to do that until a customer left, but he needed a few minutes to gather himself before he was able to speak to Bilbo once more.
Only when he thought his legs might support him did he attempt to stand, and when he didn’t immediately collapse into a heap, he risked looking at Bilbo. He’d meant to smile reassuringly, but he found Bilbo fidgeting again, his eyes fixed on his lap, and without much conscious thought he asked, “Everything alright?”
“Yes, thank you, it’s just ... Well, you see ... It’s like this,” Bilbo said, refusing to meet Thorin’s gaze as he shifted on bench, making the paper crinkle underneath him. “I don't know if it's just that I suddenly feel very brave after surviving a piece of metal being pushed through my skin, and I’m making a very big assumption here so please tell me if I’m barking up the wrong tree, but I ... I think you're very attractive, and I wondered if there might be any chance that you'd like to come out for dinner with me some time?”
Thorin reeled back like he’d been physically slapped. Of all the things that he’d thought might come out of this man’s mouth, that had been the absolute last of them. While some part inside of him sang with pride and more than a little desire at the idea that Bilbo found him attractive, there was another darker part of him was already running, already screaming that this was a bad idea. And when Bilbo glanced up to smile shyly at him, that darker part of him started to panic. Because Thorin really, really did not want to turn him down. So, to buy himself time, Thorin choked out, “How old are you?”
This was apparently the incorrect thing to say, as the smaller man sagged instantly, that lovely smile sliding from his lips to be replaced with a look of utmost dejection.
“I'm 33,” Bilbo muttered, his eyes returning to his lap where his fingers were still twisting around each other. “Look, if you don't want to go out, that’s fine, I’m not offended. I’m not a child, you could just tell me -”
“Bilbo,” Thorin interjected, his chest tightening as Bilbo’s sadness deepened. He was relieved when Bilbo glanced up again, his hazel eyes wary, and he ducked his head to hold the man’s gaze as he explained, “I'm 47. You should be trying to find someone who's still nice and young, who will be able to enjoy a late night out on the town with you or -”
He was cut off when Bilbo released a sudden snort of laughter. He was still sniggering, and he actually rolled his eyes, when he said, “Honestly, I've never been one for going out and drinking the night away. I much prefer a quiet evening in, with a book or a terrible movie. And if it's age that you're worried about, then I should probably tell you that it's not an issue for me. I've actually dated people older than you are now.”
Something inside Thorin went ice cold at that. He bit down hard against the questions that boiled up inside him - just how old had these other people been? More importantly, how old had Bilbo been when he’d dated these older people? The fierce surge of protectiveness took him off guard, and he paused, considering. He had dated people younger than him, of course, but if he accepted Bilbo’s offer, even if it only amounted to one dinner, then the age gap between them would be the biggest that Thorin had ever experienced.
Not that he’d had an awful lot of experience, if truth be told. Sure, he’d had a few relationships here and there, but they had usually been the type that didn’t last for too long a time, that were formed for the wrong reasons or where the passion fizzled out long before either of them made the decision to move on. Thorin quite liked his space. He liked the quiet, he liked being able to come and go as he pleased. At least, so he told himself. But really, what would be the harm in having one dinner with this pleasant man, who had mischievous eyes and a smile that made his stomach flip over?
“Alright,” Thorin finally sighed, grabbing Bilbo's hand and turning it so that the man’s palm faced downwards. He snatched his marking pen from behind his ear, and quickly scrawled his phone number onto the creamy freckled skin. He held the man's hand a little longer than necessary as he murmured, "But I won't be offended if I don't hear from you. We can just chalk it up to the adrenaline in your system skewing your rationality."
“Sure,” Bilbo murmured, but he was positively beaming, and Thorin couldn’t help but smile back as he showed the man back to the front of the shop. Bilbo paid for his piercing and left, stopping in the shop door to wave at Thorin before he headed off down the street, his head held high he walked. Thorin watched him go for longer than he would ever admit to himself or anyone else, and he only gave up when Bilbo was truly out of sight.
He was halfway through sterilising the tattoo table when his mobile buzzed in his back pocket. He straightened to dig the device out, flicking the screen open to read the message, and he huffed out a rough sound of amusement when he read the text.
Is it too soon for me to convince you that the adrenaline has fully worn off and that I still think you're unbelievably attractive? ~ Bilbo