Work Text:
The Other Side of Love
to the brave girl
Silence conquered the room when they were done.
Outside, the city’s usual grand-orchestra played its second hand serenade: a majestic concerto made up from traffic, screaming, clattering, loud billboards and honking. It was impossible to make out a single sound on its own, but the people from the city knew their native musicians well, only seldom did a usual player leave the orchestra or a new one was added.
Next to the concerto outside, the mini-bar was humming along with the air-conditioning in the posh hotel room. Next door, a few people were fighting, or laughing, who knew? - it sounded like Chinese, they could as well have been plotting a murder, none of the two of them would have known.
Sleepily, Bilbo crept up, tugging a blanket over his shoulders and covering himself and Thorin with it, snuggling in to him, resting his head on Thorin’s chest, listening how the sound of his strong ,beating heart was mixing in with the sounds of the city.
He drifted of all too fast, his limbs turning numb and his sweaty skin cooling down again, his own heartbeat calming only slowly.
He didn’t dare speaking. He wanted to ask him whether he had told his wife he would be back for dinner or if they would stay until the morning. He feared the answer, and not knowing was better than preparing to leave again, if only in his mind. He also wanted to ask how his day had been, how his sons were doing and whether they should make a trip to Maine during the holidays, just the two of them. He kept his mouth shut still, afraid something he would say would lead to the inevitable question about when they had to leave again.
He never, ever in his life wanted to leave the hotel room. He just wanted to stay in the same position they were in now, dosing on his lovers chest, ordering good food, making love somewhere in between, but ignoring the fact that they both had obligations, duties and families at home, wives that were waiting for them, and that, however much he liked this, it was nothing but a sweet dream, a false reality at best.
“I told Sarah I would be home for Dinner.”
Bilbo closed his eyes, a stinging pain in the place his heart would be, had he not given it away to man beneath him. He didn’t respond.
“She always makes Dinner at eight.”
Bilbo felt how he started toying with his hair, patting it and burying his hands in the golden curls he liked so much.
“Stop,” Bilbo whispered.
“Hm?”
“Be still, please,” he silently begged and Thorin put both arms around his back, pressing them closer to his strong chest.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered and Bilbo nodded, accepting the apology.
Anticipation was always so sweet, but everything after that only turned bitter.
I miss you
I want you
I need to see you
Sheraton, Wednesday, 661, bring Champaign
Any text sent form Thorin's cell made him the happiest man alive, wherever and whenever he received them. Beth, his wife, didn’t know he had that second phone. It was small and looked almost like a simple music player, not like a phone. Beth didn’t know anything. She also didn’t know about the separate account he had, the account he used for these things only, for trips, to rent a room or to buy dinner. A part of his salary went to that account directly every month. He and Thorin shared it and both used it. Sarah didn’t know either, nor did his children, or Bilbo’s children.
They were living the cliché of two gay men, happily married to their wonderful wives, with their perfect families and their well-paid jobs, that met once or twice a week in a hotel room of their choice to spend a few hours together. They had too much to lose, worked for too conservative employers to ever divorce, leave their families and out themselves.
This hotel room and the occasional trips to the cold beaches of Northern New England, disguised as business trips, were all they had and... would ever have?
He turned his head, looking at his lover, who, woken by the movement on his chest, opened his eyes himself, looking right at Bilbo.
“Hm?”
“You know I love you, right?”
Thorin took his face in both his hands.
“Of course I do,” he calmly answered.
“Are we ever gonna do something about it then?”
Thorin sighed, caressing Bilbo’s golden curls.
“Are we going to have this discussion again?”
Bilbo shook his head and crept closer to his face, kissing him slowly on the lips.
“Do you have anything planned for the holidays yet?”
“No,” Bilbo answered, hopes coming up.
“I told Sarah I needed to visit a customer in Boston and she’s taking the kids to her mother.”
“Is that an invitation?” Bilbo asked.
“It is one... if you’d like,” Thorin offered a weak and almost shy smile.
“We could rent a car and drive all the way up to Vermont, see the Indian summer, stay at a little B&B, what do you think?”
“If you get the car, I get the B&B,” he smiled widely, kissing him again, caressing the beard stumbles on his cheeks and taking in that beautiful scent, his own smell mixed in with Thorin’s.
He felt how Thorin hugged him even tighter, burying his hand sin Bilbo’s hair again and making sweet, low, longing sounds.
It took them another hour, being slow and gentle, trying to prolong their time together as far as they could. It was almost eight and high time to leave when first Thorin and then Bilbo climbed off the bed to shower. They had set up the rule to not shower together afterwards because it usually took too long, especially when they had already procrastinated leaving as long as possible.
Bilbo listened to the sounds of the shower mixing in with the still playing orchestra outside and the inside-humming of the room. He always felt the most lonely when he waited for Thorin to come out of the shower, sitting on the edge of the bed. Thoughts and a bad conscious haunted him then, thought of Beth and their children and of Sarah and Thorin’s sons. He had never met any of them. He had seen pictures of all of them on Thorin’s phone, but never in person, and he didn’t want to, he wouldn’t be able to bear it.
When Thorin came out of the bathroom, only a towel around his hips, still dripping and all wet, Bilbo blushed, knowing he did that on purpose, because the smile on his lips was smug and gave Bilbo another kiss on his hair before he himself left for the bathroom, all thought about Beth, Sarah and their children forgotten.
It was always bittersweet, when later, he found Thorin already dressed and ready to leave. He was so close to tears, Thorin approached him, took his face in both his hands and kissed him, long and passionately. He pressed his forehead to Bilbo’s, eyes still closed and whispering.
“I see you next week, alright?”
“Alright,” Bilbo peeped, kissing the palm of Thorin’s left hand.
He left then, and didn’t turn around another time, wiping away a single tear in his eye.