Work Text:
He hated playing the woman.
Of course, Bilbo would do anything for Ori. He was one of his dearest friends, and was also one of the most brilliant play directors (he was practically adored by the mayor). And really, Bilbo had fun participating in the plays. His mother always said he’d be brilliant as an actor, even though his father tried to quash such thoughts as fleeting fancies. And at first, he didn’t mind putting on the makeup and dresses on at first.
It was when he was the woman almost every single time that his irritation began to grow.
“Ori.”
Said young man hummed absentmindedly as he flipped through the script. It was an acknowledgement, but a small one. And really, Bilbo wished that Ori would sometimes pay just a tad more attention to him when he was speaking. Even if it was during a break in dress rehersal. And Bilbo was still wearing the dress. It was a nice dress, though cheaply made, and it was a lovely color. But it was still a dress.
“Ori, I don’t mean to be rude, but can you look at me?”
Ori flushed a little, finally looking at him. “Sorry, Bilbo. Just reviewing some things…” He muttered. “What is it?”
“It’s just… Well… This.” Bilbo hissed, pulling at the skirt of the dress and causing the director to look at it with a furrowed brow.
“Is something wrong with it?” He asked. “If there is, I don’t see it. I actually think it looks quite nice!”
“That’s-! That’s not really my point, Ori.” The older man said tiredly. “It’s just… I’m always the woman. I’m always playing the woman! Can’t you… Oh, I dunno, get actual women to play these parts?”
“Oh, I’m sorry Bilbo, but community theatre isn’t very popular!” Ori answered. “There aren’t many women who sign up for it.”
“But there are women, Ori…”
“Dori’s my sister!” The director cried, voice rising in pitch. “Do you know how awkward that would be? Casting my older sister as the main heroine in a Shakespearean play? Granted, it’s Macbeth, but-!”
“Yes, yes, very well then.” Bilbo cut in. “But what about Dwalin?”
Ori quirked an eyebrow and merely looked towards the stage, Bilbo following his line of sight at the tall, large woman adjusting some of the set, utility belt loose on her hips and the sides of her head gleaming as the patch of faded electric blue hair wilted in its mohawk form.
“I’ve tried getting her to audition, actually.” Ori finally answered. “But she’s got quite the case of stage fright.”
Bilbo blinked, continuing to watch as Dwalin fussed about, recalling how she had once bellowed for what seemed like an hour when someone tampered with the lighting. “Huh.” He muttered. “Never would’ve guessed that.”
Ori nodded, turning back to the script. “Those are the only women, I’m afraid.”
“Well then, how about one of the other men?” Bilbo asked. “Surely someone else is willing to put on a dress for the sake of the show.”
Ori looked at him, though kept his head turned to the script. “Bilbo,” He said slowly. “You do know what the rest of the troupe looks like, right?”
He had a point, Bilbo realized glumly. The other men of their community theatre group were muscular, hairy men who seemed to treasure their facial hair. Sure, some were willing to take a razor to their face for the sake of a part, but they would mourn the loss as if their beards were members of their family.
They heard laughter come form the backstage as two of the men stepped out. There was Fíli, who was playing the fated Banquo, and who looked rather odd in his costume whilst wearing his sneakers. There was Bofur, who was playing Macduff, and who still stubbornly wore his odd hat. Then there was Kíli, Fíli’s brother, who was playing Macbeth himself. Out of all of them, Kíli was the one who was in his full costume, and Bilbo thought it made him almost more attractive. It was ridiculous, really, how such a young, somewhat childish man could be so attractive. It didn’t help that he was also surprisingly witty. In fact, Bilbo debated on asking the man out for a coffee, but a number of things held him back. One was his age, and how much younger he was in comparison. The other was that Bilbo had no idea what his preferences were. Finally, and the most important reason of them all, was that Kíli and his brother were both the mayor’s nephews. His precious nephews, and quite possibly the only reason why he continued to come watch their plays. Said mayor was also one of Bilbo’s old school buddies, and was a fierce man indeed.
“Is there another reason why you don’t want the part of Lady Macbeth, Bilbo?” Ori asked, and Bilbo flushed when he realized that he had noticed his staring.
“Ah-Well… Not really. I mean, I am tired of playing the woman, but…” He muttered. “It’s just… Thorin’s probably going to be none too pleased with me, I think. Playing the part of Kíli’s character’s wife.”
“So it’s not because you think that wearing dresses reduces the chances of a date?”
Bilbo’s face, if possible, grew even warmer. “Are you crazy?” He hissed quietly. “He’s one of Thorin’s boys! I’d be hunted down if I so much as tried to flirt with-!”
“Ori?”
Bilbo jumped back, seeing the man in question standing not far from them. He had no idea if Kíli overheard any of their conversation, and dreaded the idea that he possibly did.
“Yes, Kíli?”
“Ah, well,” He began, stepping closer and brushing against Bilbo’s arm. Perhaps purposefully. Perhaps not. “I just had a few questions about the script.”
“Sure!” Ori chirped happily. “Let me just finish with Bilbo, and-.”
“No, no. It’s fine.” Bilbo cut in, wanting to slip away. “I need to get that rat’s nest of a wig, anyway.”
Kíli snickered, and Bilbo felt a little pleased with himself as he headed for his “dressing room”, which was really a corner of the stage. As approached the small setup he had, seeing his clothes folded on the chair, he wanted to tear off the ridiculous, cheap, Halloween costume of a dress and throw the ratty, once-curly blonde wig in a dumpster with it when he saw a packet taped to a mirror nearby. With his name on it. In Kíli’s handwriting.
Frowning, he tore it off the mirror to look at it more closely. For a moment, he thought it was their script and that Kíli wrote some rather ridiculous observations in it. Something he had done in the past. But his frown deepened, for it was actually one of Ori’s old scripts for his rendition of Romeo and Juliet. Bilbo remembered that one. He was Juliet, of course, but this was before Fíli and Kíli joined the theatre, and Bofur was the one who played Romeo. The young man must’ve found the script somewhere.
He flipped through the script, trying to see what he had written in it that made him want to actually tape it up, getting more and more confused when he didn’t see anything. It wasn’t until he got to the last page that his furrowed brows shot up and his eyes widened slightly. In a hastily-written script, there was a little note on the bottom.
I know how much you hate playing the woman,
So I’ll do it this time.
Be the Romeo to my Juliet,
Go out with me?
-Kíli
Bilbo flushed, for it was almost as if Kíli was thirteen again and he was visiting from college. The note was almost ridiculous in its tween-like wording, and it reminded Bilbo of their age difference. Of all the reasons he should not agree to the question on the script. Even if it was sweet. And that Bilbo was a bit of a romantic. And he actually really wanted to say yes despite everything.
He really shouldn’t. He wouldn’t. Besides, the play Kíli used was probably one of the worst of Shakespeare’s tragedies, in Bilbo’s honest opinion. The worst thing to use to try to ask him out on a date.
Bilbo didn’t realize that he had even picked up a pen until he had written out a message in his small, neat handwriting.
Romeo and Juliet is about two hormone-driven teenagers that were probably more in lust than they were in actual love. It ends in their killing themselves after only knowing each other for barely a week, and is only read in schools to scare students off from having sex…
He frowned, for it did sound rather harsh. He didn’t want to tear Kíli apart, especially if he really wanted to date an old man in a dress like he was at the moment. Thorin, the mayor, would probably hang him up a tree by his arse by sullying his baby nephew…
… But would it be worth it…?
Bilbo pursed his lips before finishing his message in larger letters, so Kíli wouldn’t have a chance at missing them. The moment he put the pen down, he was called back to the stage and he rushed to comply, taking the wig with him.
However, I’d love to go for a coffee sometime.
So long as your uncle doesn’t kill me.
-Bilbo.