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The pages of his journal blurred beneath his pen tip, and he rubbed his hand harshly across his face, leaving a smear of ink on his cheek. It was getting harder to focus most days, even today with the cloudless sky and bright afternoon sun. He couldn’t see very far now, but that would be soon resolved. Hopefully. If the government didn’t screw him over again.
A shadow fell over his page, and when it didn’t move after several seconds, he peers upward with a scowl. “You’re late.”
“Only by a hundred years, little thief.”
Bilbo’s scowl stayed for a moment longer before he let it morph into a grin. “Ai, it’s good to see you, Thorin. Sit down, sit down. Let me order for you.”
Thorin waved him back down, his blue cable knit bunching at the elbows. “You paid last time, I recall. Don’t go trying your tricks on me.”
He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket before heading to the counter. The pastries in the glass case golden brown and flaky, some with precious coatings of chocolate or raspberry glaze. “I’ll have two of the danishes, please. One blackberry, an apple for the other. And a Pumpkin Spice Crème Frap, venti.”
Bilbo hid a smile as he pretended to scribble another note. So much for liking his coffee black as a dragon’s stomach. A disapproving sniff had him glancing to the neighboring table. A little old lady sat hunched over her tea with a glower, her daisy yellow jacket pulled up to her chin and her glasses sliding down her nose to the point Bilbo wondered how she could see anything at all.
A danish being shoved in his face forced him to redirect his focus. “Thank you.” The table shifted as Thorin sat down, threatening to spill Bilbo’s black coffee. Bilbo lightly hummed as he sank his teeth into the baked apple treat. “Mm. You know me too well.”
A sharp pain flared in his head, interrupting his enjoyment. He grimaced and set the danish down, only to see Thorin’s concerned face studying his own. Thorin reached to his side and untucked a flask that had been hidden beneath his sweater. With a quick twist, he leaned over and poured the amber liquid into Bilbo’s mug. “How long?”
“Eh, it’s progressed. Doc says three months, being optimistic. I’m not an optimist.”
“It’s getting faster.”
Bilbo nods and raises his mug for a sip, hoping that he can keep his voice steady. “Yes. Just another casualty of a forgotten war. VA Office acts like I’m already in the ground, for all the help they give.”
Thorin raised his glass in a toast. “To those who’ve fallen.”
“And to those who follow,” Bilbo finishes, raising his coffee to meet his. “So, anything new? I know Gloin couldn’t make it. Busy taking care of his lad, so the missus could get a break.”
“Only two and he’s already a handful,” Thorin chuckled. “And I’m really not supposed to tell you this, but he might have a playmate soon. Kili’s getting married in a few months’ time. Sweet lass he picked up.
You should be getting an invitation… soon. They, ah, went out a few days ago…” He bit his lip and busied himself picking up the blackberries that had fallen onto his plate. Ai! Putting my foot in my mouth again.
Bilbo reached over to gently touch Thorin’s arm. “I would be delighted to come, if I am given the opportunity.”
Thorin smiled slightly with a nod. “Maybe you can be my plus one. Durin knows I haven’t had much luck with the ladies lately.”
He cleared his throat and continued. “Anyways… I’ll be running a marathon in a few weeks, that’s new.”
“Oh, how wonderful! Going to be a blade runner, are you?”
“I’ve looked into them, but they’re not versatile enough to justify the cost. They’ve got new motorized prosthetics, so I’ve been penny pinching to save up. Can’t say the VA’s been much help to me either- think I should be happy with a peg leg.”
“Ah, yes. The ‘hide the holes and no one will notice’ tactic,” Bilbo snorted. “It works… two percent of the time.”
Thorin leaned back in his chair and glanced out the window. The sunlight forced him to look away, but not before he caught a glimpse of the hurried pedestrians passing by the café.
BANG!
The sudden noise had them both ducking. Bilbo was halfway beneath the table, about ready to drag Thorin down with him, before he realized that the bullets and dust were missing. They were in a coffee shop. It was a backfiring car, not an insurgent taking potshots.
“Bilbo? Bilbo, are you alright?”
He blinked harshly, trying to shake off the haze that had fallen over him. “Y-yeah, I’ll be fine. Are you?”
“None worse for wear,” Thorin said as he hauled Bilbo to his feet. His coffee had spilled across the table, soaking into his notebook and had started dripping to the tiled floor. He grabbed his notebook and frantically tried to pat it dry with the few napkins that had escaped the hot deluge.
“Serves you right.”
Bilbo started, only to turn and see the daisy lady staring him down. “I beg your finest pardon?”
She clutches her necklace tightly as she leans closer. “You people make it indecent to go to any establishment anymore. For shame! Out in public like this.”
Bilbo’s eyes furrowed and he tugged at his sleeve. It took a moment for the thought to settle and his jaw snapped shut, taking half a step forward without realizing. A calloused hand blocked his path, and he turned his head sharply to see Thorin completely drawn up. His broad shoulders were thrown back and his eyes held steel. “Would you like another coffee, madam?”
She blinked owlishly and settled back into her seat. “What?”
“Yours must be extremely unpleasant to affect your good disposition so. I refuse to do your mother a disservice to assume that she neglected your social lessons of propriety. I therefore must conclude that it is your coffee that has spoiled your manners and it is only right as a gentleman to rectify that which is ailing a lady of good standing, such as yourself.”
Bilbo raised his hand, trying to disguise a laugh.
“How dare you assume I have a problem?!”
“I assume nothing, as I have said. I have no quantifiable evidence to confirm such suspicions. It is impolite to assume that which you don’t know.”
With a small nod, nearly bowing, Thorin goes to the counter and murmurs a quick order. “A mocha for the dear lady. On me.”
“Of course, sir. Would you like to give her a message?”
“No, but please wait to give it to her after my friend and I leave. She’ll understand.”
With that, he settled into an easy stride and marched toward the door. Bilbo, having anticipated the abrupt departure and gathered his belongings, fell into step at Thorin’s six. He glanced around behind him, knowing that his front was being covered. He knew he was perfectly safe, and yet the routine was a familiar one.
Relaxing once they were both out of the shop, Bilbo couldn’t keep his mirth contained and collapsed heavily onto the sidewalk bench. He gripped the bench tightly as he bent over. “Ha! Can’t assume? But you just did- and-and she can’t do a thing about it without being rude!”
Thorin grinned and laid his hand heavily on Bilbo’s shoulder, gold band glinting in the sun. “Contrary to what the riffraff think, I did pay attention in officer school.”
“We never doubted it, my liege.”
“Liar.”
The two sat and leaned together, as if they were the only things keeping the other upright. Slowly their laughter died. The clock on the square chimed four and the cafe’s open sign flickered out. The remaining patrons trickled from the door, their elderly nemesis pointedly looking the other way as she left.
Bilbo sighed heavily and closed his eyes, sliding deeper into the bench. “The days are passing faster. It’s getting dark.”
Thorin looked up at the bright afternoon sky and hummed in agreement, ignoring the sudden blur to his vision. “I’ll bring you fireflies then.”