Work Text:
Bilbo Baggins first meets Thorin Durin, Crown Prince of Erebor, during a storm. The thing is, he doesn't exactly know this at first.
He is drenched from head to toe, clutching the camera bag that he hid underneath his purple jumper with a tight grip. His bright yellow umbrella had been lost just the day before, having slipped out of his hand after a particularly hard gust of wind and conveniently flew underneath an ongoing bus. It hadn't been a huge loss to Bilbo yesterday, because he figured that he would get another before the next storm started, trusting what the weatherman said.
He'd been very wrong. Obviously.
Bilbo swipes one of his hands across his forehead as he turns a corner, pushing back his soaked dirty blond curls that threatened to blind him. This is when it happens.
Someone is trying to turn at the same time as Bilbo, except they're running while doing it.
At a mere five foot three, Bilbo doesn't stand a chance.
The force of the collision knocks Bilbo off his feet and into a puddle. It also causes the camera bag to slip out from under his jumper and into the puddle with him.
"Watch where you're going," The man who ran into him nearly growls in a heavily accented voice, seemingly irritated if the way his sharp blue eyes narrowed or how his lips became nearly non-existent indicated anything. Bilbo, however, doesn't particularly care about that considering the fact that his £360 camera just made an awful sound when it hit the wet pavement. It most certainly wasn't a good sound, as Bilbo couldn't afford to replace it and he had a big assignment coming up. He could only hope and pray that it wasn't broken, but he didn't think his chances were too good.
The twenty year old scrambles to pick the bag back up, clutches it close to his chest and glares up at the other man.
He is taller than Bilbo - by at least a foot, easily - and from the way his muscles bulge from his soaked, probably tailored button up, Bilbo thinks that the man could probably bench press two of him. He has a nicely trimmed beard and hair a little on the long side that's just as drenched as Bilbo's, giving him the resemblance of a drowned cat. A very attractive drowned cat.
Clearly, it was an apt comparison.
"Excuse me! You ran into me and I'm pretty damn sure you just broke my camera!"
The expression on the other man's face is priceless; or rather, it would have been if Bilbo's camera was most likely destroyed. He looks Bilbo up and down pointedly then, his gaze warm, but Bilbo never gets the chance to call him out on it.
"Thorin!" A voice calls out and the scowling man jumps and curses under his breath.
"Listen, I'm sorry about your camera, but I need to go right now! I'll pay you back later!" Thorin growls, already starting to sprint forward.
He has a very nice bum, but that certainly didn't excuse rudeness or possibly breaking Bilbo's camera. Possibly. Only just possibly if some higher power out there cared for him even one measly bit.
"Are you serious?!" Bilbo cries, outraged. He has half a mind to follow Thorin, but when he starts to, a group of people in suits turn the corner and nearly trample Bilbo. They, however, don't bother to stop and only one casually says, "Sorry!" over her shoulder.
They're also gone before Bilbo realizes what's happening.
Did he just... run into a criminal?
He huffs and holds his camera a little closer.
Really, it was a shame to find an attractive person with a bad personality; even if they did look like a drowned cat and were possibly a criminal.
It turned out that, of all of the gods in all of the religions, not one cared about Bilbo enough to save his camera. Unfortunately, it was thrashed - internal water damage and the lens cracked in a spidery manner.
The only lucky thing was the fact that his memory card was miraculously saved; now safely stored on his clunky laptop and backed to his email... just in case.
That was the only good thing that came out of this, Bilbo thinks, clutching his spiked tea close to him.
Especially when he turns on the television and sees the face of the person he ran into and was rude to; though it was within reason. Bilbo automatically finds himself wondering exactly what crime he had to commit in order to get on T.V.? And then he sees the headline.
'PRINCE THORIN OF EREBOR TOURS THE UK.'
Bilbo just stares at his T.V., completely unable to believe that the attractive-drowned cat man who had destroyed his camera and had been rude to him was a prince. An actual crown prince of a real country. A very attractive crown prince at that, with slicked back hair and a perfectly tailored suit in royal blue. Not to mention the bum.
Bilbo sighs, defeated, and sinks into his armchair.
He didn't hold much hope before, but now it was nonexistent. Taking a sip of his tea, the alcohol not nearly enough, Bilbo tries to clear his head, but the only thing he can think is:
Damn bloody princes with nice bums.
On Tuesday, it's raining again which isn't very surprising.
This time, Bilbo has an umbrella - a bright pink polka-dotted thing courtesy of Nori who simply loved pushing the flashiest things he could find on Bilbo when he found the opportunity. He had a camera to use also. It isn't as good as his broken one, but Dori had insisted he use it until he was able to buy a new one or repair his current one and it certainly did the job.
He's just leaving campus, having about four hours to spare until his next lecture and all caught up on his work when he - again - finds himself running into someone. He just doesn't fall this time.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going." He apologizes quickly, straightening his umbrella and looking up at the person. He instantly freezes.
Just his luck, it is Thorin, Crown Prince of Erebor which also just happened to be one of the richest countries in the whole of bloody Europe.
"That's not surprising at all." Thorin mutters, almost too quiet for Bilbo to hear.
Bilbo bites the inside of his cheek.
"Well, your highness-"
"Don't call me that!" Thorin hisses, ducking his head and attempting to cover the entirety of his head with his hood. He lowers his sunglasses that look overpriced perched on his rather large nose so Bilbo can see his bright blue eyes.
"How did you even find me?" Bilbo questions, bewildered. Oh God, was bumping into a prince and nearly knocking him on his arse a secret crime or something?
"You were wearing the Uni's sweater and I... had some free time."
"...Okay..." Bilbo replies slowly. "But, why?"
"Look, I said I was going to pay you back for your camera and I meant it. Also I.... was kind of a jerk... Did your camera break?"
Bilbo just stares at him, forgetting nearly all manners. "Are you serious?"
Thorin straightens up and says, "Absolutely. Don't tell me that you aren't going to accept my money because of who I am."
As he speaks, he fishes out his wallet - an overly fancy thing, which was just typical - but Bilbo grabs for his wrist and quickly pushes it back down, looking around quickly just to make sure no one was watching and sighs.
"...Come on, I know a really good cafe down the street."
"What? A café? What are you talking about?" Thorin questions, his thick eyebrows furrowed.
Bilbo doesn't really know how to explain to the prince that he looks like a hobo soliciting drugs and/or sex at the moment, so he doesn't. "We should talk about this over coffee. I bet you never really get to see any good places when you go on tours. You'll never find better coffee in England, I promise."
It might give Dori and Bombur coronaries if they find out.
Thorin looks a little taken aback and maybe even a little sheepish. "No, I... I don't. Sometimes I get away from my guards, but I never really know where to go."
Bilbo tugs his wrist and smiles softly at Thorin.
"Good thing you met me then, huh?"
"...Yeah." Thorin agrees, letting Bilbo pull him along.
Maybe meeting a crown princes and getting his camera broken wasn't too bad, after all.