Chapter Text
Wide-eyed, you look at me. Set on fire in a silver dream. Spin ‘round, you can feel the breeze. Count one, two, three.
The Friday after their last meeting, Thranduil was preparing to go out with Bard again. They were undecided on where to go and what to do; Thranduil was fully fine with spending the evening at the café again, having figured that Bard was likely still exhausted from working constantly throughout the week, despite said man’s objections.
As he pulled on a sweater and freed his hair from it, a knock on the door made him pause. Legolas stood on the other side, looking slightly apprehensive.
“Legolas,” Thranduil said, surprised. While he and his son may have been less distanced than before, they still had little interaction beyond necessary. Legolas also usually went out for the weekends, and Thranduil felt a little guilty not realizing that his son had been home.
“Hey dad,” Legolas began, lingering in the doorway as if indecisive on whether to enter or not. Thranduil realized that he must be waiting for an invitation to come in, and he quickly gestured for him to enter.
“Come in,” he said quickly, scooping a long-sleeved shirt off of his bed to clear a spot for him. “You know you don’t have to ask.” He folded the shirt and tucked it away into a drawer before turning around. “Is anything wrong?”
Legolas, perched precariously on the corner of Thranduil’s bed, shifted awkwardly. “Nothing’s wrong, I was just, um. Wondering.” He paused then, and cleared his throat. Thranduil felt a tendril of fear crawl up his throat at his son’s behavior.
Oh no. He hasn’t gone and gotten himself into some kind of trouble, has he? Like done drugs. Or gotten expelled from school. Or gotten a girl pregna-
“Dad, are you seeing someone?”
Thranduil was so caught up in his thoughts that it took him a second to register what Legolas just asked. “I- what?”
His son reddened but continued. “I said, are you seeing someone, dad?”
There was a moment of silence as Thranduil tried to gather his thoughts. On one hand, he was glad that Legolas hadn’t gotten himself into any kind of trouble (although he still could have, and just not informed Thranduil about it), but on the other hand, he was incredibly unprepared for this conversation.
“I- well, not- no,” he answered finally, although it was hard to look his son in the eyes. It wasn’t as if he lied, though – he wasn’t seeing Bard, no matter how much their interactions seemed to move increasingly beyond the realm of friends.
Legolas seemed unconvinced, eyeing him suspiciously. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Then, is there something that you’re not…telling me?” A vaguely uncomfortable look accompanied that sentence, and Thranduil realized that he and his son rarely showed much interest in each other’s lives beyond basic greetings, much less inquire after each other’s relationships.
The barista ran a hand through his hair, feeling conflicted and uncomfortable as well. He could almost hear Tauriel urging him to “take this opportunity to finally reconnect with his son,” but he didn’t feel ready yet. Thranduil could barely admit his feelings to himself, much less his son whom he could barely hold a decent conversation with.
“No, Legolas, there isn’t,” he replied quietly, with an air of finality; Legolas didn’t look satisfied, but he dropped the subject all the same and stood, brushing strands of blond hair over his shoulder.
“If you say so,” he said with a frown. “Then, well. Have fun, er, whatever you’re doing.” Thranduil acknowledged him with a nod and turned back to his dresser when Legolas added, “Oh, and ada?”
The barista turned around abruptly at the sound of his son’s old nickname for him. “Yes, Legolas?”
The younger hesitated, then said, “Whatever’s going on with you lately, I’m glad that you’re happier now.” With that, he gave a small smile and quickly left the room, leaving Thranduil speechless in his wake.
“Was this your plan all along?”
The question made Thranduil look up from the ground curiously. He and Bard were slowly making their way back to Thranduil’s house after spending the evening at a small restaurant, then tea in Thranduil’s café. All in all, a very relaxing evening.
“What?” He asked, confused.
Bard smiled. “This evening. We didn’t do anything but sit and talk.”
Thranduil pretended to look miffed. “And is there anything wrong with that? I found tonight to be very enjoyable, thank you.”
“Oh, I enjoyed it, don’t worry,” Bard amended quickly, looking a little sheepish. “It’s just that- on Wednesday, you were worried that I was working too hard. Did you plan this evening so that I wouldn’t be worn out?”
Thranduil let an innocent smile curl his lips. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replied with a light shrug, hands in pockets.
Bard rolled his eyes, but smiled all the same. “You really have no faith in me,” he laughed, running a hand through dark locks.
“I assure you, Bard, that I actually have the utmost faith in you,” Thranduil stated with a roll of his eyes. The former gave a light-hearted tug of the barista’s scarf, laughing at the indignant look sent his way.
“Really?” Bard teased, stepping out of the way when Thranduil leaned over to return the gesture. “I feel flattered. I’m happy you trust me that much!” He grinned as he nimbly evaded Thranduil’s hands, smile increasing at the blond’s efforts to catch him.
Thranduil huffed as his hand barely brushed Bard’s scarf. “I’m beginning to reconsider that,” he retorted, although there was no bite in his words. Their game of cat and mouse continued for a few more minutes, Bard’s laughter echoing off the houses they were passing. Thranduil found himself smiling as well, despite being out of breath (he really needed to get out more); when was the last time he let go and had fun like a child?
“Got you,” the blond exclaimed triumphantly as his fingers snagged Bard’s scarf, and the other stopped abruptly, causing the two to collide in a tangle of limbs and scarves. Thranduil’s breath caught at their close proximity, and they stood chest to chest for a long moment, breathing hard and faces flushed in the cold, before he began to pull away, afraid that Bard might push him away or be upset.
He was stopped by when he felt a pull on his scarf, preventing him from from moving. Despite being shorter than him by a couple inches, Bard looked up into Thranduil’s eyes without flinching, expression unreadable. “God,” the other breathed, so softly Thranduil almost didn’t hear it.
He didn’t reply, too busy wondering if the fast heartbeat he was currently feeling was his or Bard’s. They had never been this close to each other, never had held physical contact for more than a second, and Thranduil’s heart felt like it might leap out of his chest. He wanted to look away, but found himself unable.
He swallowed hard and began stammering. “Sorry, I should have- I didn’t-“
“I like you,” Bard interrupted, effectively cutting off Thranduil’s rambling. The blond froze and gaped at the other man, unsure if what he was hearing was reality. Bard took a deep breath, looking almost afraid. “I really, really like you, Thranduil,” he continued. “Not- not as in friends, or acquaintances, but as in I want to date you.” A small smile flickered across his features and he laughed breathily. “I probably have since the moment I saw you,” he added in a soft murmur, before a worried look crossed on his face.
“Oh no,” he said, beginning to pull away from Thranduil, who had yet to move or say anything. The blond was in shock – never did he think that his feelings towards Bard would be reciprocated, and to hear the man himself confess that he felt the same was incredible to Thranduil. Feeling Bard move away snapped him back to reality.
“W-wait, wait, wait,” he said in a panic, grasping Bard’s arm before he could move any further. “I- I’m sorry, I was just- I didn’t expect you to- to say-” He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. Why couldn’t he ever form the words when he needed to?
“Bard, what I’m trying to say is- I- I like you too.”
Silence. The blond slowly opened one eye, then the other, to find Bard staring at him with wide eyes. He held his breath as a grin slowly formed across Bard’s face and a laugh escaped his lips. “Oh my God,” the dark-haired man laughed, and Thranduil felt a smile of his own start to form, cheeks flushed red. His hands slid down Bard’s arms to find his hands, their fingers intertwining together for the first time.
“Is this real life?” Bard asked, grinning brightly. “I can hardly believe it.”
“I know,” Thranduil murmured, still smiling. “I can’t stop smiling, my cheeks hurt.” They laughed at that, for the moment uncaring that they were standing in the street, and pressed their foreheads together, the laughter dying down to simply giddy smiles and linked hands.
“My God,” Bard whispered as they stood together. “I feel as if…as if I’ve been waiting for this since forever,” he finished softly, to which Thranduil hummed in agreement.
“I didn’t think you would ever return my feelings,” the blond commented quietly, and Bard squeezed his hands briefly. “I’ve probably liked you since the moment I saw you, too.”
“Sometimes, you just have to take the leap,” Bard said after a moment of silence. They looked into each other’s eyes again, and smiled again before Thranduil reluctantly pulled away, instantly feeling colder.
“We- we should probably be getting back,” he said, clearing his throat. He let go of one hand, but Bard tightened his grip on the other.
“I don’t want to let you go just yet,” he remarked, to which Thranduil blushed again. They began slowly making their way back to Thranduil’s house, neither wanting the night to end. Eventually they reached Bard’s car, which was parked out front.
“Well,” Thranduil said, reluctant to let go of Bard’s hand. The other laughed and ran a hand through his hair.
“I guess this is it,” he chuckled. They lingered for a moment before Bard leaned in, and Thranduil shut his eyes, feeling nervous all over again.
“Aw, isn’t that sweet?”
The duo jerked away from each other before their lips could touch and Thranduil froze, hardly able to turn around. He forced himself to do so, taking in the familiar, sickly sweet smile that the speaker had on his face.
“Smaug,” Thranduil whispered hoarsely.
“Now, now, Thranduil,” the man said. “What’s the matter? Aren’t you happy to see me?” He laughed, although there was no benevolence in it. “Did I perhaps come at a bad time? It was rather unannounced…” He smirked. “Although I had just expected to see you holed up in your house as always, too cowardly to go anywhere except your beloved shop.”
Thranduil felt his insides go cold and his hands go clammy. Beside him, Bard frowned. “Thranduil, who is this?” He asked warily.
Bard’s voice roused Thranduil from a frozen state of panic, although he was still trembling when he turned towards the other man. “Bard, I’m sorry,” he apologized quietly, steering them away from the presence on his front step. “You should probably go now. I have to see to my…my guest,” he finished with a grimace. Bard’s frown deepened.
“I’m not so sure I want to leave you two alone together,” he replied slowly with a glance at Smaug, who hadn’t moved from his spot in front of Thranduil’s house. “He doesn’t seem very…well, very nice.”
Thranduil smiled, or at least tried to. It was hard, when your gut was twisting itself into the most complicated knots. “It’s fine,” he reassured quietly, although pale in the face. “Please, just…” They had reached Bard’s car by now, and he gestured towards it.
The dark-haired man moved reluctantly, opening the car door. “I’ll call you,” he said to Thranduil before getting in. The blond gave him a thin smile, but didn’t respond.
“Good night, Bard,” he said quietly, and placed a hand on the car door. “I’m sorry it turned out this way.” Bard furrowed his brow, obviously still concerned, but entered the car anyway. Thranduil shut the door behind him, and watched the car slowly pull away from the curb and into the night.
“Rather cute, wasn’t he?” Smaug commented, peering in the direction that Bard drove off in. “You two looked close.” His lips curled into a sneer. Thranduil didn’t respond, only turned back towards the house. Thankfully, Smaug changed the subject. “Well, aren’t you going to invite me in? I didn’t think you lost your manners in the time I haven’t seen you.”
Thranduil drew in a shallow breath. He felt like he could barely breathe; the mere thought of letting Smaug into his home, one of his only solaces, was awful. But he knew that refusing would only make matters worse, and nodded silently, making his way up to the door to unlock it. Holding the door open as the other man entered with a smug smile, the barista cast one last glance out onto the street before closing the door behind himself.