Chapter Text
Fili was on the road.
This in itself wasn’t an issue – Fili loved road trips: the open spaces, the feeling of freedom as the world whizzed past him, the sensually purring machine between his thighs…
He even knew where he was going, which was more than he could say for any number of his previous excursions – he’d been sent a very specific address (half way across the continent). But he had no idea why he was going there; in a typical ‘Uncle Thorin’ fashion, the text provided the minimum possible amount of detail: just the location, time and date.
Fili had been summoned.
That Thorin was perhaps justified in his minimalist approach was neither here nor there – running what amounted to a para-military organisation (from which Fili had more or less successfully broken himself free), tended to make you somewhat cautious. Fili would have still liked to know what sort of shitstorm he was getting himself into, preferably before said shit hit the fan.
But he also couldn’t afford to ignore a contact this direct – he’d been dragged back kicking and screaming enough times to know that.
So it was just down to whether he’d have to leg it again after figuring out what this was all about and just how creative he’d have to get to succeed. Last time it came down to hand grenades; this time Fili hoped the hand grenades could be avoided.
But those were all problems for Future Fili. Current Fili had his beloved motorcycle, an endless stretch of road and the world at his feet.
And it was all going swimmingly, until some asshole, on an outrageously orange Honda Fireblade, essentially rammed him off that road.
Fili, a sensible and responsible road-user that he was, hit the brakes, wiggled his way out of the pinch and then put his foot down – someone had to stop the idiot before he, or someone else, got hurt. Fili just happened to have just the right skillset for it – he knew his way around his bike better than most and was very good at a variety of methods of persuasion. His KTM 1290 Super Duke GT may have been heavier, but it had an astonishing amount of oompf, ever since Fili decided to ‘improve’ his engine and (accidentally) succeeded.
They raced for a while: power and handling versus agility and speed, until the nutter chose to simply pull over, like an obedient little lamb.
Fili, by now intrigued, tiny bit aroused, and fully alert, pulled up right behind him, yanked off his helmet, took 3 deep breaths and prepared to give him an educational and possibly somewhat life-threatening piece of his mind.
And then the guy pulled off his helmet and a cascade of chocolate-brown hair spilled down onto his leathers.
Fili froze mid-step, his expression going from a lion about to pounce to a kitten ‘I miscalculated where the edge of the table was’.
“You didn’t!” he choked out incredulously.
“Yep. Yes, I did!” Kili gave him his most blinding Colgate advert grin. “I call her Minty. For the mint condition I keep her in. Isn’t she glorious?”
Why Fili was surprised, he had no idea. For as long as he could remember, Kili always tried to copy him, out-do him, if possible, and generally be exactly the same, only more so, and with some quirky Kili-twist on top. It explained everything about Kili, from why he kept his hair long, to why he followed Fili into Thorin’s organisation and then swiftly followed him right out. After that, Fili had half-bullied, half-bribed him to go back to the university he’d previously dropped out of and finish his degree, and that was that.
It even worked!
For a time.
“Let me guess: you got the text too.”
“I didn’t –“
(Good. Maybe this was some giant coincidence then. It was good to know that just like there were certain lines that Fili couldn’t cross with Thorin, there were also some lines that Thorin wouldn’t cross for risking Fili’s wrath.)
“- But you did. I cloned your phone when you were taking me back to the dorms.”
“How?! You were handcuffed to the back seat!”
KIli shrugged. “Sometimes I was, sometimes I wasn’t. I told you that those cargo pants with their roomy pockets were just not your style.”
Fili stared.
Kili petted his machine absent-mindedly and openly gloated.
“You are not coming,” Fili’s brain finally kicked back into gear. “Over my dead body!”
“And how exactly do you propose to escort me back, when each of us has a machine of his own now? Couldn’t even catch me on that short strip just now. It’s not like you can lasso Minty and tie her to your saddle –“
“I don’t need Minty, I only need you. And you can walk behind my bike for all I care!”
“Promises, promises…” Kili knew he’d won this one. He completely ignored Fili’s helpless outrage and proceeded to rummage in his haphazardly bungee-cord-strapped backpack. “Mum packed me lunch. You want an egg wrap?”
Fili swore under his breath and demanded a BLT sandwich, like a real man.