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“You sure this is the right place?”
“Positive.”
Bilbo frowned, following Bofur along. He hated being out so late. Hated having his family worry. But Bofur said it would be good for him. To go out, have a few drinks, maybe even dance. Forgetting the very small fact that they could get arrested for merely being the same room as a glass of scotch.
Apparently, Bofur knew a place. That didn’t mean the police didn’t know as well, though.
“Bofur!”
Bilbo jumped a little as his friend was pulled into a rather rough-looking embrace by a stout man.
“Dori!” He jeered, clearly alright with it, but it didn’t ease Bilbo’s nerves. “Good to see you! How’s business?”
“Good, like it always is on a Friday.” The man, Dori, replied before looking at Bilbo, and he promptly narrowed his eyes. “Who’s this?”
“Ah, That’s Baggins. Bilbo Baggins.” Bofur answered, nodding to him. “Don’t worry. He’s good people.”
“Pleasure to meet you.” Bilbo greeted, doing his best to smile and be polite.
Dori just snorted. “I see what you mean by good.” He chortled before nodding his head himself. “All right. Go on in, but don’t go too crazy. You remember last time.”
With that, Bofur tugged on Bilbo’s arm and began pulling him inside. As soon as the door opened, he could hear the music blaring through.
“Are you sure this is safe?” Bilbo asked in a whisper as Bofur lead him through what appeared to be a restaurant.
“Oh, yeah.” He replied. “You remember Thorin, right? The guy I was telling you about? Well, he runs this little speakeasy. He’s a guy with his hands in a lot of pockets, if you know what I’m saying.”
There was another man standing in front of a curtain. He exchanged a nod with Bofur before pulling it back, revealing a set of stairs.
“There’s usually a shelf there.” Bofur managed to say before leading Bilbo down the steps. As if that was supposed to make him feel better as the music continued to grow louder.
But as soon as the door was opened, Bilbo could understand why Bofur was so insistent that they were to go.
It was a lovely space, despite being in a basement, filled with people either dancing, talking, drinking, or some combination of the tree. There was a small group of musicians that were the source of the upbeat music.
“Bofur!”
Bilbo turned, and then felt a little ease when he saw Nori rushing towards them. Nori, he knew, and though Nori kept trying to pick stuff out of his pockets, he could trust him… to a degree.
“Nori! Good to see you!” Bofur greeted as they embraced. “I finally managed to convince Bilbo to come.”
“Ah, good! Good!” Nori replied, and Bilbo winced when he pulled him into a rather tight hug. “Come in and sit! I know just what to get you.”
As Nori rushed off, as if swept away by the music, and Bilbo allowed Bofur to continue to lead him through the crowd, where they were lucky enough to find an empty table. They had only managed to sit for a few seconds before drinks were placed in front of them from a rather extravagantly-dressed woman.
“So what do you think so far?” Bofur asked, already taking a sip.
“Well… it’s a bit crowded…” Bilbo muttered, eying his drink curiously. It was a cocktail of some sort. He hardly ever saw such drinks.
Bofur just snorted. “If you think this is crowded, I’m glad I didn’t try to get us in tomorrow night.” He replied, and Bilbo’s eyes widened.
“Aren’t any of them concerned about the… the…”
“As I said: Thorin’s got his hands in a lot of pockets.” His friend explained. “Half the coppers in town come here for the exact same reason we do. Even that one.”
Bilbo blinked, following Bofur’s finger towards a table that seemed to have a wide berth. He recognized Thorin right away, with his crisp suit that lacked even a single wrinkle, hair streaked with gray and brushed back, and bright blue eyes, fixed on the floor as someone whispered into his ear.
And what a someone.
He seemed even larger than Thorin, who was an intimidating figure on his own. Broad and somewhat balding. His moustache and beard were tightly trimmed as his eyes seemed even brighter than the man’s he was whispering to.
“That’s Dwalin.” Bofur explained. “Captain of the force, right there. Thorin helped him, of course, seeing as they’re good friends and all, but it’s not like he couldn’t do it on his own.”
And Bilbo could agree, for he had seen multiple articles about the man in question. Of all the cases he worked on and solved, at least the ones published. The ones Bilbo was allowed to publish, anyway.
He could easily leak this entire operation. Reveal this speakeasy’s location and the people who were in charge. In fact, he was tempted to, but the Prohibition Act was weakening, and more and more people were becoming less afraid of the drink. He himself didn’t care either way. But Bofur knew he wouldn’t do it, and trusted him. And Bilbo was going to honor that trust.
“Do they know where I work?” Bilbo asked him, and Bofur snorted.
“Unlikely. You use a pen name, after all.” His friend replied, even as Bilbo saw him smile flirtatiously at blonde who was dancing and waving at them. “And would you look at that? Excuse me, Bilbo, I gotta see my good friend, Miss Fee.”
Bilbo smiled at them, despite feeling a little abandoned, for it was almost far too sweet seeing Miss Fee, as Bofur called her, instantly, tackle his friend the moment he was in range. He had seen her around, dressed to the nines and talking to Bofur as he would hold his hat in his hands in an almost humble way.
He also heard that Miss Fee was Thorin’s niece, and he hoped that Bofur wouldn’t get dragged into an alley for such a display. Even as the gruff man seemed to be smiling, he didn’t know whether to keep watching everyone dance or drag his friend out of there.
“Is this seat taken?”
Bilbo jumped, feeling his face heat over the fact as Dwalin stood over him. He fought the urge to jump away, only for the fact that he seemed to be smiling down at him.
“Oh, no. Please.” He offered with a nervous grin, even as Dwalin’s own broadened as he took said chair. Even sitting the man towered over him.
“I apologize if I startled you.” Dwalin spoke, even as Bilbo waved him off. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”
“You probably haven’t.” He affirmed. “A friend brought me here. I’m Bilbo, by the way.”
Dwalin shook his offered hand. “I’m Dwalin, though I think you’ve heard of me.”
“I have.” He said. “Read about you in the papers.”
“Just read? You didn’t write them as well?” The large man asked, brow raised. “It may be your first time here, but I’ve seen you at crime scenes with your notepad, Mister Baggins… or is it Mister Gray?”
Bilbo swallowed, clutching at his glass a little. He didn’t think he was really ever that obvious; always waiting to write everything down until after he watched the police work unfold.
“If you’re here to make sure I don’t squeal, Mister Dwalin,” He finally spoke out. “You don’t have to worry. I-.”
Dwalin laughed, and Bilbo twitched nervously at how loud it was. “Oh, I’m not worried, though I appreciate you saying so.” He cut in. “I’ve just always been curious about the pretty face I always see loitering my crime scenes, and now sitting all on their lonesome from across the room.”
He flushed at those words, for Dwalin really was bold and brazen. He had no idea he was so obvious, and he had no idea if was about to be the receiver of Dwalin’s open advances, or be killed.
“Are you sure it’s wise to be speaking of such things out here in the open, officer?” He asked, risking his hand by touching Dwalin’s with it.
The man snorted, and Bilbo shivered when he felt a calloused thumb graze his knuckles. “This isn’t just any other speakeasy, as you can see.”
With that, Dwalin motioned towards the floor, and Bilbo blinked rapidly, for he hadn’t noticed that the pairs weren’t just like Bofur and Miss Fee. There were men with men, and women with women. He kicked himself for not spotting them before, but he was also floored with how open and free they were expressing themselves.
“And if you need any more proof…” He continued, motioning towards the table where Thorin still sat, though now he was smiling at a rather pretty-looking redhead that was practically in his lap. “That’s Miss Ori, Thorin’s little lady. Quick as a whip, and smart too.”
Bilbo hummed as he brought his glass up for a drink, though clearly not understanding why such a sight should be surprising. Unless it was age, for Thorin looked quite a bit older than the girl that was adjusting his tie.
“She’s also hung like a horse.”
He then promptly choked on his drink, eyes watering at the sting as the words hit him rather quickly, for it was clear that Dwalin was talking about one thing, and it wasn’t Miss Ori’s chest.
“W-Well…” Bilbo finally muttered. “I can see why such a place is so popular… And why Bofur was so adamant that I come.”
Dwalin grinned, and Bilbo didn’t feel too uncomfortable with returning it. “Is that your way of saying that you wouldn’t mind me asking you for a dance?”
Bilbo paused, obviously in thought, before downing his drink in one go, wanting to laugh at Dwalin’s expression.
“Well…” Bilbo breathed before standing. “I always dance better with a little drink in me.”
Dwalin laughed before standing and taking his offered hand. “Don’t worry.” He told him. “I’ve got pretty sturdy feet.”
“We’ll see about that.”