Bagginshield #12 - dancing
Rating: M Summary: for the 30 Day OTP Challenge. One dance in Paris. Alternate Universe - World War II
Note: idk why but here’s a ww2 au. Thorin and Bilbo are also secret agents because why the fuck not. And lol you guys want some music?
April began with the bright-eyed arrival of daffodils in the Palais Royal.
A stubborn chill was all that remained of winter as the hidden colors of Paris unveiled itself all at once. Vivre, thought Bilbo, standing beneath a raining magnolia tree. He listened to the susurrus of a sweet breeze and the chatter of life in the distance. It wasn’t boring. He loved this place in spring.
The gardens attracted more foreigners than Parisians, and they circled Bilbo in pairs as he waited. It was almost time, but he was impatient; he had been waiting since Rome.
To:
B. BAGGINS 00185 PIAZZALE ALDO MORO ROMA, ITALY
………………….
MAY FIRST, A BIENTÔT À PARIS. ALL MY LOVE,
- T.D.
………………….
And now here he was. Joie de vivre.
“Danser avec moi?”
Bilbo smiled at the ground. Pink magnolias stirred at his feet. He turned.
“Your French is horrible,” he said.
Thorin gazed at him fondly. “Your German is worse.”
“Let’s not talk then.”
They wasted no time at all.
There are silk sheets and apéro and champagne (Thorin lived the life of a king outside of the simple world of a Jewish soldier).
And Bilbo. English in Italy and so literally lost in translation: Professor, what is ‘I love you’ in English?
“I love you,” he whispered as Thorin moved inside of him. They are sweat-slick and breathing hard, and Bilbo is coming apart one touch at a time.
Thorin’s hands wrap around his wrists as he hitches his legs up higher, making enough noise that he would not be surprised if they heard him in the street. Thorin seemed to have the same thought because he suddenly laughed. He leaned down and kissed Bilbo deeply, not having to say aloud that the window would remain open. It was too nice a day to shut the doors.
“Do you ever grow tired of being something you’re not?” Bilbo asked him, twining his arms around Thorin’s neck. They swayed from side to side to the music on the radio.
Dis-moi pourquoi les plus beaux jours sans toi sont tristes. Pourquoi sans toi la vie n’a plus d’attrait pour moi! †
Thorin hummed thoughtfully. “Do you?” he asked.
“Whatever do you mean? I’m an academic, and nothing else at all.” Bilbo grinned up at him cheekily.
Aucun espoir. De bonheur. Quand tu me quittes j’ai peur, tout me chagrine et tout m’ennuie….
He rested his head on Thorin’s chest, shivering as a sudden wind tossed the pale blue curtains from side to side. “Do you think there’ll be a war?” he murmured.
Thorin pulled Bilbo a little closer, huffing. “We’re dancing, Bilbo.”
“Are we?” He sighed. “Let’s just do that, then.”
Dis-moi pourquoi les plus beaux jours sans toi sont tristes. Pourquoi sans toi la vie n’a plus d’attrait pour moi!
“I’m staying in Paris,” Bilbo told him, half laying on top of him with one leg tossed over his own. Bilbo stared at him intently. “Things are not good in Italy.”
“They’re not good anywhere.”
“Yes. Ha!” Bilbo tumbles onto his back, arms spread. “And look, Paris goes about its business being Paris. We can make love and drink champagne here. I’m staying.”
Thorin frowns at him, brushing his curls away from his face. “I wish you were farther away.”
“I’ll be fine. It’s Paris. Death doesn’t exist here. Only champagne, I told you. Joie de vivre!”
They sat beside the Canal Saint Martin at midnight and held hands. It was dark enough to hide them, but light enough to see by, so Thorin looked at Bilbo for a long, long time.
Bilbo looked back.
“Farewell,” Thorin told him, his hands on either side of Bilbo’s face. “Perhaps the next time we meet, the world will be a merrier place.”
He kissed Bilbo soft and slow. The day had reached its peak, and it had come and gone without a care for those it left behind.
“We’ll have more days like this, and more time to dance,” said Bilbo, kissing his hand. “I know it.”
Thorin craned his neck and pressed their foreheads together, closing his eyes tightly, before sighing and letting go. “I could never doubt you, Master Baggins. Until next year, then.”
I love you.
“A bientôt à Paris,” Bilbo whispered, watching Thorin walk away. “Farewell.”
DISPATCH
FROM: GRYH RECEIVED BY: BLETCHLEY 4
TO: CAPT. THORIN DURIN
ACTION: IMMEDIATELY PROCEED TO WARSZAWA 000277 TO AWAIT ORDERS FOR DEPLOYMENT
+ PLAC ZAMKOWY WARSZAWA, POLAND
ACKNOWLEDGED:
25 AUGUST, 1939
Notes:
^Hitler invades Poland on the 1st of September, 1939 ^Paris falls to Nazi Occupation a little over a year later on the 14th of June, 1940
†Dis-moi Pourquoi - Lys Gauty
*A bientôt à Paris means: see you in Paris