Chapter Text
Being a barista was hard enough. No matter what you did, someone had a problem. Bilbo couldn't count how many times someone had gotten pissy when he made sure they wanted a venti because yes, I know what you mean but I have to make sure it's regulation calm the fuck down sir.
So yes, being a barista was not Bilbo's favorite. What really annoyed him though, as bad as the 'large-not-venti' customers annoyed him, were the customers that ordered while talking on their cell phones.
It usually only happened once or twice, and quite frequently the offender would apologize while picking up their drink. But one frequent customer just did not seem to realize that talking on the phone and ordering was rude.
Thorin Durinson came in every Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday. And every time, without fail, he was talking on his cell phone. And, consequently, annoying Bilbo.
So Bilbo decided to annoy him back.
It started small. An 'e' in place of an 'i' in his last name, or writing 'Thorn' instead of 'Thorin.'
It quickly escalated.
Thorin Durinson became an array of names, each getting further and further than the original. Though Thorin didn't seem to notice.
“What can I get you today?” Bilbo asked as Thorin stepped up to the counter.
“Nori, I’m not saying it’s a bad idea, but there are much better ways we can do this. Featured dark roast, venti, to go.” He said to Bilbo. “No, listen. We can’t answer every problem like that. Ask Dori what he thinks-”
“Name?” Bilbo asked, though at this point he really didn’t need to.
“I don’t care if you don’t like Dori, ask him. He knows more than I do about it at this point. Thorin Durinson. No, he hasn’t given me the reports. Hence why he knows more than I do.”
Bilbo nodded and Thorin, after paying, stalked off to the other side of the shop, still arguing with whoever ‘Nori’ was.
Bilbo sighed and with a roll of his eyes, started on Thorin’s drink.
The name he called out was Thorin Durinson, but the name he wrote done was ‘Thorn Durensun.’
Thorin didn’t notice.
The next time it was Thorn Durisnson.
Still no glance or remark on the misspelled name.
Bilbo decided to stretch it even further.
Bilbo took inspiration for Thorin’s new names from anywhere he could.
The day after he watched Harry Potter with his nephew he wrote down Tron Drumstrang. Nothing.
After seeing ‘Age of Ultron’ with his friends he picked Thor Odinson. Not even a raised eyebrow.
Trorin Durisdeer.
Throne Durin On.
Torino Drugs On.
After a memorable night of getting piss ass drunk with his cousin Prim he decided on Troy Disney Son. No reaction.
It went on like that for awhile.
Tonight During Singles.
To Hire Dalringson.
Thorhin Fucking Son.
Foreign Dickson.
Tinkering a Dull Sword.
None of them got any reaction out of the dark haired man. He’d simply nod, take the drink, and leave.
It was really starting to annoy Bilbo.
“What can I get you today?” Bilbo asked for what seemed the millionth time.
“No, Dwalin, I have not. And I won’t. Featured dark roast, venti, to go.” Thorin answered yet again. “Because it’s not important! I don’t care what Fíli and Kíli have been saying. They’re meddlesome brats, you know that. And they love to exaggerate everything.”
“Name?” Bilbo asked. It seemed at this point they were just reciting a well memorized script.
“I don’t sound remotely like that Dwalin. And I haven’t said anything remotely like that either. Thorin Durinson.” And again Bilbo nodded as Thorin handed him his card, still glaring as he spoke to Dwalin. “What? You’re going to ask him yourself? That’ll end greatly, Dwalin, for the both of us. ‘Oh yes, I’m a friend of Thorin Durinson…’” Thorin walked off to his usual spot while Bilbo prepared his coffee.
This time, Bilbo decided to write something a bit different on Thorin’s cup.
“Thorin Durinson!” He called out, and Thorin collected his coffee, gave Bilbo a nod, and walked off. And as Bilbo watched him pass the window, Thorin glanced at the name on the cup, looked up, and then his eyes darted again to what was written down.
He looked at Bilbo through the window, his face going red from embarrassment or from the fact that he had just choked on a mouthful of coffee Bilbo didn’t know, but he did know that Thorin seemed to be searching for words to say, even though they were separated by a layer of glass.
Bilbo simply sent a wink his way and returned to his job, mixing together a blonde roast with a little hum.
And if he was glad to see a text from someone calling themselves ‘Tron Drumstrang’ later that day, well, Bilbo was glad Thorin liked one of his names at least.
Dinner? ;) xxx-xxx-xxxx