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Dwalin was bored and the shitty music playing in the club was starting to give him a headache. His housemates had dragged him out, even though he’d tried to tell them he had an essay to write, and now he was stuck playing the fifth wheel.
Gloin and his oh-so-perfect-in-every-way-shape-and-form girlfriend were out on the dance floor, practically writhing against each other to the shitty music. Dwalin’s nose wrinkled in disgust as he watched them, but, he mused, taking a gulp from his warming pint, it was better than paying attention to the pair beside him. Bilbo was pretty much sitting on top of Thorin now, fingers buried in the long dark hair as he appeared to be trying to maul Thorin’s face. Not that Thorin was complaining of course.
With a groan, Dwalin turned his eyes skywards, praying for the strength not to batter his housemates. It was unfortunate, but he needed them. All the bills were in Gloin’s name and Dwalin just didn’t have a head for numbers, and he’d probably manage to kill himself if it wasn’t for Bilbo taking over the kitchen and feeding them all. Of course, he couldn’t get rid of Thorin either, having known the idiot since they were kids.
Half an hour, he promised himself, then he could go home without them complaining at him.
Chancing a glance at the pair beside him, Dwalin’s eyes quickly snapped away when they spotted Thorin’s fingers slipping open the buttons on Bilbo’s ridiculous waistcoat. Shoving himself up from the bench and away from the sticky table, Dwalin headed for the bar. He needed another drink to get through the next half an hour.
Snakebite in hand, Dwalin turned to watch the bodies moving on the dancefloor, lights flashing over the crowd as the beat of the music pulsed through their veins.
Dwalin froze, drink halfway to his lips as his eyes caught on one of the dancers.
He was positively sinful.
Lithe body wrapped up in tight black clothes.
Russet hair, with glimmers of firelight when the lights swept over it, pulled up into a messy bun.
Dwalin was caught when bright eyes met his.
A flirtatious smile teasing at lips he desperately wanted to taste.
No one had the right to look that good.
Dwalin downed his drink, throat suddenly dry, as the vision before him gave him a once over.
He didn’t know how it happened, but delicate fingers wrapped around his wrist and tugged him towards the dancefloor, his glass abandoned on a nearby table.
“I…” he started, only for the man to shake his head, leaning up on his toes to say in Dwalin’s ear.
“Just shut up and dance with me.”
And Dwalin did.
He felt awkward. His body unaccustomed to dancing.
He was beginning to feel self-conscious, especially when he glanced over his shoulder and saw Gloin grinning at him.
Suddenly a line of warmth pressed against his chest, as arms slipped around his neck.
Dwalin’s eyes snapped back to the man before him.
“Don’t you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me,” he said, smile still curling his lips as he guided Dwalin’s body to the beat.
Dwalin nodded, not saying a word as he happily drowned in eyes that seemed to promise more than just a dance in a night club.
Slipping his hands round the man’s hips, Dwalin followed his lead, leaning down as his dance partner rolled up onto his toes.
Their lips met and Dwalin’s world spun.
Perhaps coming out that night wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
-x-
Bofur slid into the booth next to Bilbo and Thorin, grinning at the pair kissing on the dancefloor.
“Told you,” he said, “Get them in the same room and they were bound to get together.”