Blending In

Carciel

Summary: Oscar winning actor and former CIA agent Bilbo Baggins finds himself roped into a final mission- to protect the gorgeous industrialist Thorin Oakenshield from assassinations by posing as his besotted new fiancé. If only Thorin would stop challenging him at every turn! Bilbo/Thorin.

Thunder rolls overhead as Bilbo races to his trailer. The sky is overcast and rain falls in a steady beat, dripping from the overhangs of his trailer to form small puddles on the ground. His trailer is parked near a small wood and the smell of fresh earth, tangy and rich assaults his senses.

There is little wind, but the water is cold and he shivers slightly.

Bilbo takes a final lungful of air, laden with the smell of earth and rain and steps inside. He quickly divests himself of his coat, which drops to the ground with a wet, splotchy sound. His shoes and socks are equally soaked, and he flings them in a deep corner. A small trail of muddy water follows the trajectory of the boots, and he winces at the mess.

The rain and the pleasant warmth of his trailer are enough for him to put the mud out of his mind. He begins to relax slowly into the solitude, years of training preventing him from letting his guard down all at once. They are critical abilities that count when your life hangs by a thread.

As he moves to grab a towel to dry his hair, he senses a small movement in the back of the van. It's out of place enough to not qualify as a flutter of wind from a carelessly open window, and there is a distinct lack of spray. Bilbo stops his movements and moves stealthily along to the wall. Whoever the intruder may be, Bilbo knows that they are exceptionally well trained, since the movement is deliberate on their part. He hadn't even noticed the intrusion till they had moved.

His first instinct is to retreat into the shadows and figure out who it may be. He mentally recounts his enemies from past missions, people with an agenda against him or people left wronged and disgruntled. He comes up blank.

Prior to his retirement, he had been a polite, if not genial agent, friendly and warm. He cannot remember anyone towards whom he bears any ill will or anyone who may bear him the same. Then this would either be a hit - either an assassination, or someone wishes to use him for leverage or information. But he has no family or active connections to his old job, and any or all information that he could provide against his employers would be over seven years old. Anyone wealthy enough to hire a mercenary of present skill would certainly not send them after a retired agent who had never been part of the classified circles.

That would leave the final option of being used for his own abilities. Bilbo sidles against the wall and grabs a knife that he keeps taped under the table adjacent to him. He has no intention to go down easily. Anyone who intrudes on him in a manner so furtive would not want his talents to be used for anything that would be legal.

Bilbo shifts in position, readying his stance. The chances that he might win against his opponent in armed hand to hand combat are slim at best. But Bilbo has worked for many years utilising the benefit of a surprise attack. It has always been one of his strengths - and the reason why he has often been on ambush missions.

There is only one chance to take, then. He bounds out of his spot, careful not to make a single sound. Yelling and belligerent swinging are theatrics that only Hollywood movies can use. In real life, sound would alert his intruder far quicker than he would want, and the element of surprise that he banks on would be lost. However, before he can fly all the way across the trailer, the intruder leans forward and switches on the small lights that dot the roof of the van. The sudden glare drops him off kilter just as much as the movement and person making the movement do.

"GANDALF?"

He tries to skid to a halt, but physics is a hard mistress. Momentum carries him forward just as he presses his bare feet against the cool floor, and the sudden change in acceleration makes him topple forwards. He raises his arm in an instinctive move to shield, and crashes into Gandalf with enough force to send them both against the floor. The knife swings, and catches them both - Bilbo in a clumsy gash across his left arm, and Gandalf in a shallow cut over his cheek.

Gandalf's firm blue eyes move down at him, and Bilbo feels himself inflame with embarrassment. He's deposited in a frumpy heap on top of his ex-boss, especially after having identified him as an intruder, and then having cut them both. The knife clatters away from his fingers as he quickly jumps up, and hops from foot to foot. Gandalf gives him an inscrutable glance, and Bilbo feels himself shrink even further as the man stands up and towers over him.

Then he smiles. "My dear Bilbo. While I can certainly say I did not expect this greeting, perhaps I am to blame for my furtive behaviour." He grips Bilbo's arm, gently but firmly, and steers him away from the wall and towards the couch. "While your instincts are yet as keen, I must say your knifework is getting a little sloppy."

And Bilbo blushes fiercely under his amused gaze.

Gandalf looks much the same, if the length of his beard is not taken into account. He still dresses as a wandering wizard out of a fantasy novel - with a gray robe buckled securely at his waist, a long grey scarf that is wound across his neck, and a large, floppy pointed grey hat that looks like a prop out of the Harry Potter movies. The staff he uses to steady himself with is different, with closer lines forming an intricate bulb at the top. Bilbo knows better than to touch the staff. Gandalf may perhaps be old, but he is no less a fearsome fighter, and he uses his staff to great effect. It is an expensive staff, made of the finest wood and inlaid with a single, intricate line of silver. Gandalf is getting fonder of finery, for Bilbo doesn't recall such luxury being used before.

His blue eyes still crinkle in lines of amused affection and fondness, and Bilbo cannot help but smile. Gandalf has always been an unconventional handler for the CIA, and he has always been a good boss as well. He is glad to see Gandalf again - of all the people he knows at his former job, Gandalf is the one whom he respects and looks up to the most.

Gandalf patches up his own injury with practised ease, Bilbo struggles more with his own. He has bled a great deal, although not enough for him to require medical intervention, and the arm is slick with blood from the cut. Gandalf puts up with his inefficient puttering for a while longer than he can remember, but takes over the bandaging in the end. Bilbo is too used to Gandalf's precision to resist, and the bandage is securely and neatly in place, protecting his wound from exposure and dust. He is not nearly as embarrassed as before - Gandalf has seen him both at his best and his worst.

Bilbo doesn't allow Gandalf to make tea, because the man is a guest and he has retained almost all of his propriety, bar the fact that he had almost landed on him with the belief that he had appeared to stuff him in a sack. Gandalf only watches him fumble about and offers no help of his own.

When tea steams in front of them, vapours curling in soft tendrils in the cold air of the trailer, Bilbo turns to Gandalf with an expectant glance. Gandalf doesn't seem flurried, only continuing to take a lungful of smoke that he breathes into the air. Bilbo catches the whiff of some exotic but sweet smelling weed, and profiles it mentally as a possible narcotic. He also reminds himself to ask Gandalf where to get some of his own when he would leave.

Finally, he discards his pipe and fixes him with his gaze, unrelenting. But he can detect definite amusement in it as well, and he worries for a minute. He can certainly trust Gandalf to come up with a task that would be embarrassing, dangerous and funny to none but him alone.

"Bilbo, I'm going to send you on an adventure."

Bilbo gapes at him.

Gandalf chuckles to himself before continuing. "You remember that part of the reason why we agreed to let you retire and pursue your dreams of acting was for the promise of a single mission that you would perform for us when asked? I have come to claim that promise. This mission is special, and it requires someone of your specific talents. But even so, I think it will be quite an adventure, for you."

Curious but apprehensive, Bilbo leans forward to learn more. He remembers the terms of his dismissal well - the promise of a single mission that could be called in at any time has always haunted him. He revels in the chance to finally be rid of the burden, but he knows enough about government agencies to know that whatever he is being sought out for will not be simple.

Gandalf seems to take his open movement as a sign to continue. "Have you been reading the news lately, Bilbo?"

Bilbo shakes his head minutely. He has been far too busy keeping up with his releases and completing his shots. Taking into account the time it takes for him to move from one shot location to another, he has barely had enough time to eat and sleep, much less catch up with the news, which has always been trite.

But Gandalf's mention of the news is significant, and Bilbo wonders which important event has he missed this time. There is no impatience in Gandalf's tone or face, but he gets the feeling that a faux pas has been committed in any case.

There is the smallest quirk to his lips. "I shall surmise for you, then. You have been kept very busy of late."

Bilbo leans back into his seat. Mission briefings are never small, because they have to deliver information and correctness. He might as well make himself comfortable, he is no longer required to stand upon ceremony as a junior agent. Still, a part of him wants to stand up straight and get his mission.

"Three days ago, there were a series of assassination attempts carried out on few of our eminent industrialists. The attacks were nonetheless designed to disrupt daily commerce and cause mass panic, and they very nearly succeeded. With the lives of their CEOs and directors in danger, many of our prominent companies have lost significant market share, with a few plummeting over 30% of their market share. While we intend to investigate the issue, the current scenario is of tumultuous economic standing, and people are panicking. I want to assign you to be one of the guards to a certain Industrialist, since you are well versed in assassinations, and are a fine protector. I expect you to ably guard him from all possible threats."

Bilbo nods uncertainly, but confusion reigns in his mind. "Gandalf, there are many in the CIA who are well versed with the techniques used by assassins, and some have even been your assassins. I have never carried out an assassination, and there must certainly be others who are better than me. Why would you need me to guard?"

Gandalf smiles lightly, but his eyes are sharper. "Good catch, Master Baggins. You have always had a clever bent to you. You're being selected for this mission because of the unique features it presents, and because you are the best person for it in my mind."

Flummoxed, Bilbo can not find any answer to offer Gandalf, who takes his silence as another cue to continue.

"Bilbo, in this case, there is not much point in presenting our executives with a personal guard, especially in cases like these. You're going to play the part of his besotted new fiance, with a lavish wedding looming in the horizon. It would give you closer access than being a guard would provide, and your protection would certainly be better. Who better to pick for an act to play a fiance than our finest actor?"

Bilbo flushes red before the words register. "His? Fiance? What?" He is starting to lose articulation, but in all the outrageous missions he has been accorded, he has never been tasked to play a gay man before. "Gandalf, I'm not even qualified to do this. I'm not even gay. I can't -"

Gandalf pines him with a stare and Bilbo falters. "Since when has your personal preference ever affected what the mission has demanded of you?"

"But, Gandalf. I'm no longer a member of - of your agents. The same rules don't apply anymore."

Gandalf picks his tea and takes a sip. Bilbo follows suit, but the tea is lukewarm and the sugar in it is making his lips stick.

"You may not be an agent now, but you were one before. And this is in keeping with your own pledge to us, hence you would be treated in your old capacity, Bilbo. Do not expect a change. I would not have chosen this disposition for you if I did not believe you were the right person for it."

The tone is final, and Bilbo glares at him. But he doesn't question his orders anymore. It would do him no good.

Gandalf chuckles at the mutiny in his gaze. "You would do fine, Master Baggins. You have had a stellar acting career so far, as those Golden Statuettes that dot your mantlepiece proclaim. You can certainly play a man's fiance and still protect him from threats. But don't worry, I made sure to pick someone that would certainly flatter you, Bilbo. And you have a talent for looking unassuming, even harmless. It would give you the best cover to investigate yet stick close to your betrothed in any circumstance."

He is outclassed in this match, and the logic is sound. His best choice is to accept it and allow Gandalf to take him in whatever direction he wants him to go. "Who is it then, Gandalf? The lucky soul who's starstruck fiance I have to be?"

The particularly evil glint in Gandalf's twinkling eyes makes him swallow his tea nervously. Nothing good comes his way when Gandalf regards him with a gaze that positively amused and entertained. "Thorin Oakenshield, the owner of Erebor Enterprises."

"What? Why him?" Bilbo remembers Thorin Oakenshield. Although privately and publicly regarded as one of the handsomest entrepreneurs in the world, Erebor Entreprises' famous CEO isn't someone he is fond of. While he has never met the man in real life, he has met many people who have been in his company, and not much of their versions of him have endeared him to Bilbo. Thorin has always been politely detached at best and freezingly courteous at worst, turning down invites and propositions from members of his current profession. In fact he would bear them with minimal discreetness allowed to him when his company provided most of the devices they would use to create their movies. His quiet stoicism drew the butterflies amongst the actors as easily as nectar would, and they would often mob him for a sudden infatuation that Bilbo personally thought was extraordinarily farfetched for even the ditziest actors.

"While Erebor is generally involved in your cinematographic equipment, surely you are not blind to the fact that the company also provides most of our technological devices - ranging from smartphones to computers to everyday machines like microwaves and washing machines. At the time of this conversation, they dominate over 80% of all hardware in the market. This is excluding the services they provide in the software sector - they program our banking services and our security encryptions, our GPS tracking systems and our search engines. Even our stock market and big data calculations are handled by them. I believe they just expanded to Train and Aircraft management services. Suffice it to say without Erebor, we could be looking at a standstill. Which makes a significant attack on Thorin all the more important - he personally overlooks each and every resource Erebor provides. He is the vital link to it's function. Without him the company would fold, and so would our global markets and economies. With no one poised to take the mantle from Erebor if the enterprise goes down this instant, we're looking at nothing else but a technological meltdown."

Bilbo frowns. "Why would someone like Thorin Oakenshield agree to have a stranger play his fiance? From what I know of him, he is hardly one who gives away his trust freely."

Gandalf smiles evenly this time. "I, ah, convinced him to give this experiment a try. He...agreed to listen, I suppose."

Before Bilbo can ask what exactly Gandalf would have used to persuade a man famous for his ability to disregard people and opinions, there is a loud, insistent knock at his door. It makes the trailer with the slightest tremor, and Bilbo marvels at the physical strength of whoever stands on the other side of the door, because it seems like they are not even trying.

Gandalf stands, brushes his gray robe and fixes his hat. "He is here. Come, Master Baggins. It is time to introduce you to your new fiance."

Thorin Oakenshield looks even more enthralling in person.

A raincoat of sorts covers his broad shoulders, but leaves his head uncovered. His luxuriant black hair is damp from the rain, curling into small ringlets as they fan across his back. There are two braids at the sides of his face, framing it in stems of glossy black. The rays of silver are prominent even in the dampness, and it gives him a touch of elegance that is unique in itself. The rain slants into his face, highlighting the clear blue of his eyes. Bilbo is partially convinced he has never seen eyes that beautiful before. His black beard is trimmed short, but covers most of his jaw, and thick fingers cover the handle to his trailer. As he steps in from the rain, Bilbo can almost taste the fresh aroma of wet earth as it hangs around him, but also a deeper undertone of sandalwood and pine. He's appalled at how extremely invigorating yet relaxing he finds the scent of Thorin Oakenshield.

Oh , Bilbo thinks sourly, his reputation for beauty is certainly well deserved .

Thorin greets Gandalf with the slightest of smiles, one that lights his face in a way that makes Bilbo's heart beat just a little harder. The difference the small turn of lips makes to his handsome face is astounding, and Bilbo is sure he is simply staring, awestruck. He shakes himself, but he makes little progress. His eyes are glued to his face.

"Gandalf."

Thorin's voice is deep and rich, low but without any roughness, smooth as the finest chocolate. The barest hint of warmth in his voice conveys both his affection and his friendship, and Bilbo feels something warm curl in the depths of his belly. Dimly, he's aware that he thinks it's unfair - that the man in front of him isn't just drop dead gorgeous, he has a voice that would make angels turn.

Gandalf greets him like an old friend, taking the wet raincoat from Thorin and stepping away as he comes in. "Welcome, Thorin." He hands Thorin a fluffy white towel, (from his personal collection, too) and waits for him to dry his face.

Bilbo takes the time to watch Thorin from relative safety before Gandalf calls his attention to him. He can definitely appreciate why the acting butterflies flocked to him - Thorin is perhaps the handsomest man he has ever seen. He radiates authority and elegance that almost borders on regal, and holds himself up with such ease and confidence that Bilbo almost envies him. Under his raincoat, his clothes are simple - a red shirt covered by a long, plain blue jacket of sorts, belted at a strong waist with an elaborate buckle. His feet are covered by thick, tall boots, a custom kind that Bilbo has never seen before. But they are still made for comfort, not show - while Thorin does not flaunt his money or waste it on himself, he certainly does like the smallest luxuries.

Gandalf towers over even Thorin, who is easily five inches taller than him. "Thorin, this is Bilbo Baggins. He has gladly acquiesced to aid us in finding those targeting your life by posing as your fiance."

Thorin turns his brilliant gaze towards him, and for a second, Bilbo forgets all thought. Those lovely eyes have a hypnotic stare, and Bilbo lets it wash over him for a second. But his reverie is jarred by Thorin's voice.

"You promised me a trained agent, Gandalf. Why do you offer me this actor now? He looks afraid of his own shadow. He looks more like a grocer than an actor. This is not honouring the terms of our bargain. If you wished to toy with me -"

Well, well. Mr. Pretty Face was guaranteed to have a lousy personality , Bilbo muses uncharitably. You can't always have everything.

Gandalf chuckles, and Thorin stops. He places a hand on his shoulder, and Thorin's expression shifts to slightly murderous. "Do not worry, Mr. Oakenshield. I do not offer you a grocer. Bilbo Baggins is an accomplished actor, and I expect his acting to be of great use to us."

Thorin, if possible, looks even more unconvinced. The distrust in his gaze as he takes stock of Bilbo is enough to set him off, however.

"I haven't been just an actor. Prior to becoming one I was a CIA agent under Gandalf here. And a darned successful one, too!" His face feels warm under his outburst, and for a brief second he worries about embarrassing himself in front of Thorin. He quashes that line of thought immediately. Who cares what the man in front of him thinks? Even if he's a gorgeous hu-

Bilbo firmly stomps on that thought and turns to glare at Thorin, whose expression shifts from confused to annoyed and settles at amused. The low rumble of a chuckle vibrates through him and Bilbo shifts, unwilling to close his eyes to savour the sound.

"You did not tell me that your choice would be a little spitfire, Gandalf."

Bilbo glares at him with enough fierceness to set tinder aflame, but Thorin remains unaffected. The spark of amusement stays in his eyes even as he settles into serious conversation with Gandalf.

"I will not be responsible for... him, Gandalf. And I expect him to do his duties admirably and protect me within the frame of your ridiculous scheme, else I will disavow helping you and find myself competent security."

Him, indeed. Irritated now, all traces of his infatuation with the man evaporate into thin air. Oh, he would show him. Thorin Oakenshield would rue the day when he crossed Bilbo Baggins.

Gandalf only gives Thorin a smile that is so sweet that it unsettles him deeply. "Thorin, he is one of the most capable agents I have ever worked with. He will protect you ably, and he is not as green as you expect him to be. Nor as soft. I look forward to him surprising you in the near future."

Gandalf's half-baked assurance is apparently enough for Thorin, but Bilbo suspects the man came with his mind made up to listen to Gandalf in any case. He also suspects that Thorin has made alternate arrangements for himself just in case, and is agreeing to go with him just to humour Gandalf. So he would be monitored with Thorin. Bilbo shrugs mentally. He has known better than to believe that his fiance would simply accept a stranger without making any attempts to safeguard his own life.

"Very well then, Gandalf. Send him to my house at 7 tonight. We need to make the announcement of our, ah, 'engagement' public." Thorin smiles at Bilbo with a hint of challenge, pointedly picks his tea and drinks it in one gulp. His mesmerising eyes hold a mocking challenge, and Bilbo is incensed enough that the magic of his eyes fails to hold him this time. Then he wisely collects his raincoat and shows himself out.

As an influential figure, Thorin would certainly be expected to make a public statement. Bilbo intends to match him wit for wit there. Mentally, he thanks Gandalf, because he can definitely tell that this mission would be anything but boring .

Oh, yes. The challenge would be on.

Notes: It's been forever since I've written a word, and hopefully this isn't too bad a attempt at a return to writing. Now, I have little to none knowledge of CIA and assassins, but I do intend to do a lot of research. I'll definitely appreciate if any mistakes are pointed out, and I do answer comments on time. I'm good at that. Please do leave your thoughts? I'm a slacker for a writer and they help me actually try to write.

In other notes, Bilbo's fascination with Thorin's pretty face is all mine. I'm shamelessly obsessed with Thorin - because the guy is hot. I'm giving Bilbo all my unnecessary emotions on that account. It would certainly be interesting watching devious! Bilbo and Playful! Thorin. They look good together.

All mistakes are my own, because I have no beta and am surprisingly bad at catching my own errors. Any one offering would certainly be welcome.