Hello! This is something I'm posting to make amends for not updating 'Wanted dead or alive'. Exams are coming and I'm a nervous wreck so, yeah, it's not the best of times to write something with clear mind. A new chapter will be up next week.

This modern AU thing is something I was fiddling with at some point around Christmas. Mama Dís also makes a guest appearance in this one! I took the liberty to change her name to Desirée just so it sounded a little modern.

Hope this can compensate for the missing chapter in the original story. Enjoy!

Edit: For anyone asking to repost, or translate and repost the story on this or any other website, no, you may not. I'm not being mean, if I want this or parts of it anywhere else, I'll post it there myself. Please respect that.

Kili had been glaring at her for what felt like an eternity and a day. He sat there quiet, like a taut rope, ready to snap at the first chance he got.

Arya rubbed a hand over her nose, keeping all manners of civil appearances while trying to determine how in the name of hell she'd wronged him this time around.

"Can you pass the potatoes?"

"What, you got dinosaur arms?" the glaring man responded immediately with a deadpan look. "They're right here."

"Hey," someone said as a hand smacked his arm in reprimand. Kili suspected it was his brother.

Arya twirled the fork in her hand with vengeance. "Please," she mock-laughed, "feel free to share whatever is the matter with you."

"Kids?" Fili said with a long-suffering sigh the moment Kili angrily went to open his mouth, "Can you please not do this here?" Then he shot them a glare. It was promptly ignored.

It had ended up a joke, their fights. It felt like an eternity had passed since that very first one long, long ago, when in fact it'd been only a year and a half. Cue first flashback to Arya's badly-started day. Cue second flashback to Kili's meeting with Thorin—for the record, those rarely went smoothly. If these two happened on different days to begin with, there might not even be a story to tell now. Unfortunately or not, they coincided. What had started as a sour morning for both, shifted into an eruptive afternoon that involved Kili storming out of a lift with blood pressure off the charts and Arya being unlucky enough to be passing outside that lift at that very moment, carrying a thousands worth box with half a dozen lenses inside, and the holy grail of accidents happened—how she wasn't fired that day was still beyond her. What followed in verbal exchanges ought not to be repeated in civilised company. In retrospect, the entire affair was as tragic as it was funny. Even a year and a half later, it still was a source of anecdotes among their colleagues and friends.

From there on, the grudge would grow legendary. They started to argue on a weekly basis. It became a strange sort of ritual; if there wasn't one thing to argue about, something was amiss. On certain occasions they couldn't even recall the cause of their argument, either important or petty. They just held to their respective opinions so strongly, both unreasonably stubborn and proud, that there were times they refused to even look at each other.

Not that they looked at each other a lot—in the beginning, at least. After the first four or so months, one was trying to catch the other's glimpse when the other wasn't looking. Fili had naturally observed this; the day he realised that these behavioural patterns were similar to those of seven-year-olds with a crush, he had laughed so hard, a little pee came out. In fact, he was doing the seven-year-olds a disservice by saying that—they were far maturer when it came to coming to terms with their predicament. Whenever he'd try to make either of them open their eyes and see what all this was about, they went full Hulk on him.

And all this led on to the present day and moment, where Kili made a point of ignoring him, too focused trying to roast Arya alive with that searing glare. "There is nothing the matter with me. I'm just not completely devoid of sentiment," he said gruffly. "I have manners and respect; unlike certain others who've been sulking for the past hour while everyone else is trying to enjoy their meal."

Her fork dropped on the plate and then the table with a metallic thud. "Okay," she snapped quietly, "fine."

Kili didn't even bat an eye as she jumped up from her seat and stormed out of the room. Fili's sole reaction was a weary sigh that drowned in the general discomfort.

Desirée had remained silent all this time, observing carefully the three people around the table. Seldom she'd seen Kili take it out on someone—it mainly happened when her dearest brother was in the vicinity, armed with his innate talent to make even the most patient of people flip out. Why the girl annoyed Kili so much eluded her. She'd met Arya on a few occasions during the last year and a half and, granted, it wasn't that much to get to know her well enough, but she seemed quite nice, if a bit distant at times. Fili had also never mentioned something disagreeable about her character. Still, Kili seemed to be effortlessly riling her–

Oh. Oooh.

At that very moment the shrewd mother of two had the most ridiculously absurd idea after that one time she'd decided that it'd be fun to prank her brother, of all people, when they were children. Could it be...? She tried to recall the signs of Kili being smitten with a girl but, alas, her second-born had the propensity of keeping his feelings too private.

Just then Arya barged into the room like a thunderstorm in the middle of summer with a small box in her hands. "I'm sorry not all of us possess your lofty sense of decorum, but don't you dare say that I have no manners or respect," she spat out as she came to stand in front of Kili, all but shoving the box under his nose.

Basically it was a shrine to past decades. It contained a bunch of stuff, among them a few cassettes, an old film camera, a wristwatch, and a heap of photographs, mainly family ones. Kili caught from the corner of his eye one depicting two children holding a slightly red and wrinkled baby.

"It may come as a surprise to you, but there are people who don't get to see their family —or what's left of it, anyway— more than twice a year, at best. So let me spare you the drama and just say that this," she gestured towards the table and the people around it, "makes me uncomfortable. Now, I don't see why I should apologise for feeling a bit out of sorts, but I'm pretty sure you're the only one here mistaking that for lack of manners and respect, simply because you willfully misunderstand anything that has to do with me!"

Kili visibly cringed. All his annoyance evaporated and left behind only the cool embers of it, along with a strange feeling akin to someone slapping him on the face with a salmon.

"I insisted from the beginning not to be here because I knew, to some extent, that you might take something I do or say the wrong way, as usual." She turned to the blond and his mother with a somewhat apologetic look, "No offence, but I only agreed because Fili's been badgering me for three days now." Suddenly her features relaxed a little and there was irony in her voice as she turned to Kili again, "There, I'm very sorry to harsh your mellow, please go back to enjoying your meal."

With that she set off to her room again, closing the door behind her and all but tossing the box across her desk.

Even after that Kili didn't say anything; simply watched her leave, disappearing down the hall.

Mother and younger son sat in uncomfortable silence for what felt like hours, while Fili was too busy trying to feel bad on behalf of the latter. He'd had a bloody hard time convincing Arya to stay home that day, but, judging by the history of conflict between the two, he should have known better.

"Bravo," he muttered dryly and began clapping his hands.

Kili could almost hear the sarcasm dripping from each clap, but avoided voicing a protest or just looking directly at either of them. He'd fixed his eyes on an empty spot across the table, looking absolutely miserable. Honestly, he'd rather shove his head up the roasted chicken's ass than spend the rest of the meal with two pairs of judgmental eyes burning holes in his head.

"Here's an idea," Fili said hotly. "Go and apologise."

The brunet raised his so far downcast head to find his brother's otherwise smiley blue eyes suddenly having turned severe and solemn. Suddenly Fili reminded him disturbingly a lot of uncle Thorin. Kili arched an eyebrow in defiance.

"You idi–"

"Enough," their mother cut in. "I doubt she wants to see him right now." A sigh escaped her then, followed by the sound of metal scraping lightly against the plate. "Come on, the food's not going to eat itself."

Within seconds from withdrawing in the peace of her room, Arya had tossed her jeans into the closet, threw on her sweatpants and a hoodie over her head so viciously, she almost pulled her hair out in the process. This all happened with the intention to get out of there as fast as humanly possible. The rain was raging hard outside, but sod it. It could be hailing, snowing—could be a bloody hurricane for all she cared. Running was one of those activities that managed to get her somewhere close to venting, so it was the next best thing after slamming a pan on Kili's head if bloodshed was to be prevented.

With headphones blasting music loud enough to raise the dead, she put the hood on and stormed out of the house before one could say 'knife'. The thud of the door closing did not pass unnoticed, despite it being low, seeing as the other three were rather silent at the time.

The family meal rolled unlike the other times. Silence dominated most of it and whatever conversation followed felt rather stilted. It was an hour after Kili and their mother left that a dripping wet from both sweat and rain Arya made the honours, only to find Fili waiting to grill her about her whereabouts and then harangue her like a mother hen for running in the rain.

She just shook her head at the end of it and headed straight for the shower without answering any questions.

Meanwhile, the twenty minutes' car ride to drive his mother to the station seemed like an eternity and then some. His underlying guilt for what took place back in the house hunted him like a ravenous grizzly bear. And his mother was too quiet. Kili didn't like that. Silence was far worse than words when it came to her.

Until she was forced to scream "Brake, brake, BRAKE!" when he nearly missed a red light. The tyres screeched a little in protest. One or two pedestrians looked at him disapprovingly, but quickly went on their way.

"Jesus, Kili, where's your head at?"

He started at the question. Unavoidably, he immediately went on the defense, "Well, if you stopped giving me the silent treatment, perhaps it'd be here."

From the passenger seat, dear old mum threw him a look from the corner of her eye. "If you wanna talk about something in specific, go on, I'm all ears."

The light changed to green and the car started again. Trying to keep his attention on the road better this time, he risked a quick, confused glance at her.

She let a long-suffering sigh. "Kili, you are twenty-nine years old. I think you're smart enough to figure some things out on your own."

"Okay, I made a mistake," he admitted wearily. "No need to make me feel like I've commited murder or something. I'll fix it–"

Here, she pursed her lips to cover the chuckle that was ready to bubble out and pinched the bridge of her nose. The gesture seemed to be running in the family, for everyone did it on numerous occasions.

"What?" Kili demanded suspiciously. "Why are you laughing? What's so funny?"

"Ah," Desirée panted when the laughter ebbed away, "you are in big, big trouble, you know that?"

"Actually, no, I don't! Could you please be so kind and explain it to me?"

"First of all, I'm not deaf," she said evenly, not wanting to push him to his limits, and he seemed to tone it down. "Second, you need to remember that everyone has bad days. And you do have to apologise to her. Who knows," she shrugged, "you may even make her smile in the end."

Kili scoffed. He would only pull a smile out of the woman purely due to the outrage of the scene of him apologising to her—and it'd be one of gleeful revenge; otherwise, there wasn't even the slightest chance for this to happen. Only a few times, counted on the fingers of one hand, he'd seen her smiling genuinely. One of those times, in fact, had been captured on his phone—unbeknownst to her, and to himself at the time it happened. If she, heaven forbid, ever learned about the existence of this photo, she'd probably sue him for stalking her, or being a pervert, or all sorts of accusations she could dig up from a law book.

Of course, he was neither a stalker nor a pervert. It was just a random picture taken in a night out with friends that they'd ended up in a Latin bar where, after a few rounds of drinks, a something less than sober Arya slipped out her weakness for that kind of dance. In respect to sobriety Kili hadn't been in a much better state, and most details about that night eluded him, but the gist of it was that he'd somehow danced with her at least once. His sole legit recollection was the copious amounts of tequila and the dancing. Lots of dancing. He didn't remeber how or why, but someone must have obviously taken pictures with his phone and one of those happened to be of the two of them slinking to whatever tune was playing —heavens, why was he remembering this stuff now— with Arya forgetting who she was smiling at in her inebriation. Good times.

Unable to be as subtle as she'd otherwise be, Desirée decided to drop the bait, "Besides, she looks far better smiling than brooding, don't you think?"

Kili nodded absentmindedly, too preoccupied digging up repressed visuals of that night. She hadn't stopped laughing and, well, no one could blame her—the woman had chugged an entire pitcher of margarita all by herself. For an odd reason he remembered himself being quite amused by that fact; she seemed to be an affectionate drunk. He still couldn't get over that smile. It was so wide and genuine that it brightened her whole face and, as he grudgingly admitted, made him smile as well. So, yes, she looked infinitely better smiling.

His mother's chuckle failed to reach his ears and, once again, he coerced his eyes to focus on the road ahead. It much later occurred to him that he had seconded her sayings with something more than a mere nod, unable to stop mumbling about smiles and eyes and the like.

Just shy of two days after that fateful meal, Arya had yet to emerge from her lair for a social reason, except to visit the loo, or refill her stock of water.

Fili was starting to worry. She barely talked and hadn't eaten anything since Thursday afternoon, which was alarming in and of itself. Once or twice he had barged into her room with a tray of food, but he saw her snugly swaddled under the covers, and with half a heart decided not to disturb her.

Saturday morning had arrived and he was supposed to go to Thorin's for the weekend, but with the current situation Fili wasn't sure he'd make it. As soon as he called his mother to deliver the news that he might end up not joining them after all, she came up with an idea, the evil genius that she was, and, after two hours of thinking and rethinking, he found himself having packed things up and sticking a note on the fridge for Arya to read. Normally it was the first place she'd head to after the bed. Normally.

While initially angry to hear the news that he'd stay behind —hence the ticket he'd bought was pointless— in the end Kili could do nothing but stay behind. As exciting the idea of these big reunions was, they wound up a little boring after a while. Kili didn't remember a time where he hadn't ended up in the kitchen, drinking Thorin's mini bar dry with his brother and Dwalin. Yet faced with the alternative, the reminiscence of Uncle Thorin and Mr. Balin's long, tedious conversations about politics suddenly seemed tolerable. However, after the debacle of two days ago, courtesy of himself, that lovely, boring routine went flying out of the window and he was stuck here to make it up to his brother's flatmate for being so bad-tempered towards her.

Life was truly unpredictable.

Yet the more the idea roiled in his head, the less outrageous it sounded. In a very deep, dusty part of his subconscious, he could go so far as to say that he didn't dislike it.

He was too preoccupied trying to come up with something to break the ice to realise how quickly his feet carried him outside the large building. He did not like apologies—never had been good at it. And despite his hurry when he entered the lift, he took his sweet time to put the key in the hole and unlock the door to the flat.

A polite knock sounded at the door, but Arya made no move to open it. She had caught a few scattered words of Fili's earlier that he was going away for the weekend, although she'd been closer to sleep than consciousness to be sure. Manners be damned, but she really wasn't in the mood to do anything other than become part of the bed for now.

The numbing sound of the traffic outside had almost lulled her back to sleep when yet another knock sounded at the door, more insistent this time. This wasn't Fili—he never waited to be asked in. The knocks on the door gradually increased in both volume and intensity. Until she couldn't take it anymore and jumped off the bed, crossing the room in three large strides.

The door swung open, and there would be a gasp of surprise if her nerves weren't too busy flaying themselves. "Are you trying to deafen me?" she all but growled at the totally unexpected intruder.

"Top o' the mornin' to ya."

That took her a long way back. As far as she was concerned, he said that only on two occasions. The first involved her and commenced on one unfortunate November morning that she'd lost her voice entirely and could communicate mostly with signs, and had the whimsical idea to write that down to greet him instead of the sensible option of just nodding 'good morning'. Apparently back then he had decided that he'd never let her live that down, and made a point of greeting her like this every time she happened to piss him off on a morning ever since. The second was whenever someone made the mistake of revealing their belief that Irish people actually said that to each other, at which point he'd roll his eyes till they found brain and proceed to correct the misconception for what appeared to be the zillionth time.

That's weird. She hadn't realised she was so observant when it came to him. Usually she'd try her best not to be in his presence if there was the prospect of being away, much less watch his interactions with other people like some kind of a stalker.

Brushing this aside, she remained in front of the door and his way. She gave him a quick once-over and then her gaze landed on the small bag in his hand. It smelled like something familiar. Or it came from him. Wherever he went, he would always trail a faint scent of cinnamon and bergamot behind which, despite the fruity undertones that made him smell like the air above a coastal orchard in Tuscany, oddly managed to remain masculine. It also resulted, much to her dismay, in making Arya describe that scent as liquid sex at some point in the past. A rather catastrophic result, someone could argue; that someone being Arya, of course.

A low rumble came from her stomach area and she clenched her teeth in irritation, hoping that he didn't notice. "What are you doing here?"

Those were words spoken with all the amiability of a resounding command to go do something anatomically impossible. "Such a polite manner to greet a guest," Kili commented dryly.

"It is for the unwanted ones," she shot back, still refusing to grant him entrance. In a further attempt to make him feel more unwelcome, she straightened her shoulders and set herself as a prominent obstacle between him and the room, ready to shut the door in his face.

"Seriously?" he quirked an eyebrow, not even bothering to look threatened. "You are a head shorter and about two stone lighter than me. Do you honestly believe you stand a chance?"

She scowled. "If memory serves, and it usually does, you were the one complaining that you could barely move when I fell on top of you that time we played Twister."

Kili almost smiled. Almost. Call him weird, but there were times he seemed to get off on annoying the crap out of her. A tiny part of him was still thanking whoever had tossed the idea to dig up the box with the game. The rest was too busy calling reinforcements to patch up that little crack from which feelings had started to leak out.

"You look surprisingly clean for someone who's been rotting in a room for two days."

"Cheers," she mocked. "You really have a way with the ladies."

The extremely annoying voice in his head ushered him to stop beating around the bush out of fear that he'd manage to make things worse. "Look, I'm sorry for what I said the other day," he blurted out quickly. It was like how a band aid should be removed, fast and painlessly. "I didn't know–"

"And how not knowing justifies the fact that you accused me of ruining your day, exactly?"

"You just pissed me off by sitting there like a corpse! I wanted to do something to get you livelier."

"Oh way to go, mate," she said with a humourless chuckle and clapped her hands in applaud. "There you go, see? I'm the laughing corpse now. Should I start dancing, as well?"

"The last thing I wanted was to hurt you, okay?" he burst.

"Will I get to win something if I act like I care?"

"How did you get to be so cynical?"

"Years of practice," she said coldly.

Kili rolled his eyes. "Can you just accept the apology? I was only trying to make you look less grumpy. Agreed, it wasn't the best way, but I didn't know with what way to go!" he cried dramatically. "You've never told me practically anything about yourself, I don't know you half as well as my brother does, how was I supposed to know what makes you feel better?"

It was the first time during this... conversation —if one could call it that— that she didn't manage to hold back. Her eyes were sparkling and he didn't know what the cause of it was, tears or anger. He felt uncomfortable with either.

"You don't know anything about me," her tone gradually increased, "because you've made a point of constantly lashing out at me from the moment we met! And for inexplicable reasons that reside inside your precious little conniving mind!" A resigned huff escaped her mouth when she could find no other words to yell and turned away from him, for the first time abandoning her post at the door.

Kili saw the chance and immediately took it, walking into the room. "Okay," he sighed, "I may have lashed out at you for no reason, maybe... maybe because I was having a bad day–"

"Days, Kili," she corrected with harsh voice. "Far too many bad days."

"Days, so be it," he gave up. "But apart from the fact that you've done it equal times," here he ignored the murderous glare she sent him, "I don't know how to behave around you." Despite his age and the fact that he'd had his fair share of experience with women, there was a rush of blood racing up to his face the moment he heard his own words. Good Lord, was he blushing? Oh, to hell with it. "I don't even know what your opinion of me is."

She resisted the urge to scoff. What could her opinion of someone who considered her his archenemy possibly be? Though, try as she might, she couldn't bring herself to hate him; had tried her best to make herself believe it, but it never brought any results. There were also times she caught him evoking the strangest of feelings to her. Though she couldn't fathom how she could possibly have such disturbing feelings for an arse like him, the sight of whom exchanging saliva with any female specimen made her feel like someone had reached down her throat, grabbed her small intestine, pulled it out of her mouth and tied it around her neck.

"Right now," Kili mused, "I'm between hatred and wanting to throw me in a river and let the water do the rest."

Yes, that was actually a very close guess. "Don't flatter yourself, I wouldn't go into so much trouble for you."

"I'm wounded," he said with a hand on his heart. "So we're good then?"

Arya waved a hand non-committally, dismissing him, "Whatever."

Better than nothing, he thought with a little relief and perched himself on her bed, trying to get as comfortable as he could. "Now, stop pretending to be a mosaic and come to eat," he said, patting the spot beside him. "Figured you might get hungry during this self-inflicted house arrest."

Her head had turned just in time to see his gesture and how he had opened the bag he held all this time, taking out only the one of two boxes that were in there. "Ever so thoughtful," she sneered, but made no move to join him.

Kili gave a mocking smile. "I'm nothing if not charitable."

"I'm not hungry."

Kili arched an eyebrow. "When your stomach rumbles like a Velociraptor from Jurassic Park, it means you have to eat."

Arya glared down at her traitorous stomach as if it could see her, scowling at the betrayal. She hadn't actually given much thought to how hungry she was and was only now starting to realise the extent. The moment he took a doughnut out of the bag was the critical point where all control slipped. Her mouth filled with saliva.

Kili had already been taking excellent care of it, the corners of his mouth stained with a bit of chocolate.

Sod it, she thought and took a seat on the bed, trying to remain as far from him as possible. Her hand hesitantly reached to take one for herself, and she noticed the weird smile on his face as he observed her. "Have you poisoned it or something?" she asked suspiciously, her hand lingering an inch away from the box.

The man let his eyes fall shut in mild frustration. "No," he sighed, "I haven't poisoned it."

"Hmm."

He briefly raised his hands in defeat and coerced the grin off his face, staring as she took a bite.

For the brief second that the white glaze slipped from the corner of her lips and went to slide down, it became painfully evident that the universe had a really perverse sense of humour. Crucial efforts were made to prevent his mind from coming up with all sorts of ideas regarding the sight and how it made him feel. Mercifully, the second passed and Arya spared him the mortification by wiping the remnants with her finger.

And promptly licked them off of it. Kili swallowed tightly—that woman would be the death of him.

And to think, the doughnuts were just easing things in. Contrary to popular and personal belief, he did know some of her buttons—the woman could eat pasta, rice pudding with a ton of cinnamon on top, and lemon pie to the point of explosion. He took the other box out of the bag and opened it, revealing a piece of pie inside.

Licking the remains of chocolate and glaze off of her fingers, Arya looked down at the lemon pie with a predatory look, as though it was a mortal enemy. Apparently, she had been quite hungry. Kili was offering her pie. And she wanted the pie. She could show this pie a good time.

She grabbed the plastic fork from the bag and cut a small piece from the tip, moaning when it found its way into her mouth. Kili looked up and cursed to the ceiling and the universe for making him witness something that felt oddly intimate and that he had no need to see or hear.

Arya could barely hold herself from devouring everything, including the fork. The bite was melting in her mouth like an ice-cream placed under the hot sun, and the cream was out of this world. It exploded on her tongue in tiny bombs of yoghurt-y sour bliss. She swallowed soundly, savouring the taste, sad that it was over so fast. She could feel Kili's eyes on her as she ate, but honestly couldn't give a damn, even if there was cream spread all over her face.

His hand thwarted her attempt to take a second bite. "The rest you can have after a proper meal."

The scowl appeared again. "You should really know better than depriving me of that."

There was an edge in her tone that belied her casual manner and made Kili quirk an eyebrow in challenge. Thankfully, more for his own sanity than anything, this time she was smart enough to admit defeat. She dropped the fork and moved her gaze from him.

"Why don't you do something else than sit and mope around the house?" he said after a long minute of awkward silence. "For a change."

Her eyes squinted in suspicion.

"They say it's good to talk with people when you're feeling down. You know, open up about things. Why don't you give it a try?"

A mask of apathy —which, given it was her, was a damn good one— covered her face and hid the real emotions that threatened to pour out. She silently stood from the bed and strode to the window. After a pensive second her voice came out flat, "Because I don't want anyone to pity me."

He narrowed his eyes in confusion. "I don't. I don't think I know you well enough to even make that kind of judgement," he said with deep, solemn voice. "One can also sympathise."

Her shifting from one leg to the other made Kili stop debating on it and make the first step. Literally. He walked behind her, placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around.

It took her completely by surprise and she reflexively flinched back.

He seemed a bit put off by her sudden retreat, but refused to relent. "Come on," he said with a light smile, "let's go out for lunch. Sulking in the house is not the prediction of your star sign today."

She didn't seem to appreciate the joke. Seeing her absorbed by her thoughts, certain that she was assessing her next move, he cautiously pulled her closer for a hug.

Arya felt like she was experiencing everything in slow motion. Strangely, she found herself unable to provide any resistance. Not because she was dying to be cuddled up into his arms; more like she in no bloody way ever expected that particular man to proceed to such a gesture when not even one of them was being held at gunpoint. No one had dared to come so close to her in what seemed like centuries.

Kili was amused, if anything. It was like those gazelles grazing in the African savanna without a care in the world and then a panther would pounce on them out of nowhere; she seemed so petrified, it was like hugging a marbled pillar. He suspected she wasn't particularly used to any gestures akin to intimacy, or that she had perhaps forgotten what intimacy felt like. Oddly enough, he found himself something more than willing to potentially be the one who would reintroduce intimacy —of any level— to her.

He didn't know how much time had passed. Could be seconds, could be minutes, could be hours for all he cared. He'd die before admitting it but... it did feel nice. And then there was the classic Arya, who'd been fighting off her natural instincts from the moment they kicked in. Until her arms, little traitors that they were, hugged him back. She couldn't remember the last time someone truly held her, and it was as if the floodgates that had been holding back how starved for affection she was burst wide open.

And then a phone rang in the other room, disrupting their quiet bubble of bliss. She was the first to break the hug and take an awkward step back, and he could do nothing but accept her retreat this time.

"That would be my phone," he said under his breath, quite displeased that their little moment was so brutally interrupted by something as unimportant as a phone call. "Get dressed and we're off to lunch."

The ringing became more insistent and annoying as he headed to the door, not even expecting an answer or protest. Passing by her desk, his eyes fell on the box she'd flashed to him at the table two days ago and apparently hadn't bothered to put back to its place.

There were random, all sorts of things inside, yet there was something that literally made his step falter. "Arya...?"

"Mmm?" she muttered absentmindedly, having fallen three strides behind him, too busy trying to take in what had just transpired.

With a look of all the perplexity in the world Kili swiveled around, holding something in his hand. "What is my t-shirt doing in the box?"

And just like that, all hell broke loose.

Hope you liked that and, again, sorry that the other story wasn't updated in time. Cheers!