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Bilbo lay in his bed, hands folded over his pudgy stomach. He was wide awake, despite the ungodly hour. He was currently tossing about the idea of wandering the halls of Erebor, and if the movement would really be worth it. It was better than laying in bed, and he could always stop by the kitchens to whip up some food. The sheer possibility of a snack had made up Bilbo’s mind, he would go for a swift walk. Hobbits loved food. Cooking food, eating food, smelling food. Everything about it was about as exciting as hobbit-kind could handle. For anythig more was considered an adventure, and, as any well-read person should know, hobbits are rather un-fond of adventures. Other than Bilbo Baggins, and his Took relatives, that is.
Bilbo swung his large, hairy feet off of his soft bed, allowing them to dangle above the floor for a moment while he mentally prepared himself to leave the warmth of his blankets. He hopped from the bed, which was rather high for Bilbo’s hobbitly height, and landed on the smooth, polished floors of the dwarf kingdom. Bilbo grabbed his favorite robe and pulled it over his night clothes. He hoped no one would be awake at this hour, but if there happened to be any night owls about, they would not catch this hobbit looking indecent. It was simply bad manners, and Bilbo could not afford to lose his manners. It was one of the few things that he had kept with him from his time in Bag End. While Bilbo did not regret his choice to make the long and harrowing journy to make his life in Erebor, he still wanted to keep some semblance of his past life with him. And that semblance was his manners. Even though he was sure is dwarven friends wouldn’t mind in the slightest. Why, they would probably celebrate if Bilbo lost a bit of his “prude tendencies” as they liked to call it. Bilbo shook his head slightly, chuckling to himself as he tied his robe closed. It was a comfortable piece of clothing, made of wool and dyed to be a deep hue of red. Bilbo absolutely adored it.
If Bilbo’s time in Erebor taught him anything, it is that dwarves are prepared for everything. As he walked down the long halls, he noticed not a single cold spot could be found. The fine make of the kingdom could be recognized, even after so many years of neglect. It was incredible craftsmanship, really.
Bilbo rounded a corner of the hall, and was pleased to see he had found the kitchens. Thankfully, they were not far from the Royal Wing, which is where Bilbo was staying, despite his protests. When the Company had received word that Bilbo would be officially staying under the Lonely Mountain with them, his dwarves had insisted upon keeping him in the Royal Wing, his room to be the one directly beside King Thorin’s. And, of course, they also decided not to inform Bilbo of their decision until he had already arrived. Which made it very difficult for Bilbo to try and reason that he was a simple hobbit who did not need all of this extravaganza, thank you very much.
As his feet fell silently upon the carved stone floors, Bilbo pushed open the doors of the kitchen. They swung forward soundlessly, much to Bilbo’s delight. It was rather dark in the large room, only a few embers sparkling under the stove providing light. Struggling not to bump into anything, Bilbo eventually located the matches, which were conveniently placed beside a lantern. He struck a match against the rough countertop, and carefully lit said lantern. The room was flooded with light within a few seconds, and Bilbo went right to work on his midnight snack.
Bilbo was so engulfed with slicing his bread ever-so-evenly that he didn’t hear the doors open, nor did he hear the footsteps approaching him from behind. It wasn’t until he felt a large hand touch the small of his back did he even realize someone was in the kitchen with him. He spun around swiftly, a sharp knife in one hand and half a loaf of bread in the other.
“Stay back!” he said swiftly, in a voice much higher than he would have liked.
“Calm down, burglar. It’s me.” a gruff voice replied, the light of the lantern barely falling upon hard facial features.
“Oh, Thorin, it’s only you.” Bilbo turned back around, setting the bread back down on the counter. “I could have hurt you, you know.”
Thorin chuckled, the noise deep and soothing. “A halfling armed with a piece of bread, harming the King Under the Mountain? Very likely.”
Bilbo scoffed at this. “My bread and I are very terrifying, your Majesty.” He placed a sarcastic emphasis on the ‘Majesty’ portion of his line.
Thorin either didn’t notice, or didn’t care. He simply took several steps forward so he was standing right behind his short companion. “What are we making tonight?” Thorin’s question was simple enough, though that didn’t stop Bilbo from making a noise of contempt.
“We? What’s this ‘we’ you speak of? You and I both know that I’m the one who will be making supper, and you’re the one who’s going to eat it.” Bilbo readied his knife and began carefully cutting his bread again, making the slices thick and even. He gave a start whenever he felt to strong arms wrap around his stomach, and the weight of Thorin’s chin resting on his shoulder.
“I can help cook. I’m fairly decent at it, from all of my time spent travelling. I didn’t have a burglar to prepare meals for me then.”
Bilbo stuttered at the sudden contact from the dwarf, not quite knowing how to respond to Thorin’s statement.
“W-Well, if you really want to help, you can go make a fire for me to toast our sandwiches on, I suppose.”
The fire was comfortably warm from the distance at which Bilbo and Thorin sat. They were cross-legged on the floor, enjoying their toasted sandwiches in silence. As it turns out, Thorin actually was a decent cook. He toasted several of their sandwiches to a cheesy perfection, the bread a crispy golden color, and the cheese melted and chewy. Bilbo had noticed that Thorin was sitting rather close to him, but he didn’t pay much mind to it. Their knees occasionally brushed against each other, but if Thorin wasn’t saying anything about it, than neither would Bilbo. The pair finished their meal in blissful quiet, both content to watch the fire die out.
“What caused you to wander the halls this late at night?” Thorin spoke in his raspy voice, lazily breaking the silence.
“I couldn’t sleep.” Bilbo answered, trying to keep his mind off of the fact that their legs were touching. “Why were you awake?”
Thorin sighed. “I get... nightmares. They’re difficult to sleep with, so I take to walking instead of sleeping.”
Bilbo blinked in surprise at the confession. He carefully thought out his response, not wanting to upset his friend. “Would you like to talk about them?”
“Perhaps some other time, Bilbo.”
Bilbo let a smile creep across his face. It wasn’t often Thorin called Bilbo by his name, and he made sure to relish in the scarce times he did. “Whenever you feel up to it, I’ll be there.” Bilbo assured him.
“I know.”
Bilbo let out a soft breath of surprise when he felt the tips of Thorin’s fingers against his own. He reasoned with himself, saying the King was simply confiding in a trusted friend. This was platonic, nothing more. That he shouldn’t let his feelings twist his thoughts.
“Yes?”
The word was hardly more than a whisper, Bilbo’s heart threatening to beat out of his chest as Thorin scooted closer to him, his hand now completely covering Bilbo’s.
“I would very much like to tell you something.”
“O-Ok, Thorin. You know you may tell me anything.”
Thorin furrowed his brows. He had placed his hand on Bilbo’s other side, so that he had Bilbo underneath him.
“I want to kiss you right now.”
Bilbo’s eyes widened and his cheeks flushed with warmth.
“Oh” Was all he managed to say.
Thorin backed up. “Of course, I wouldn’t- we don’t- I mean—“
“Okay,” was all her murmured before closing his eyes and joining their lips together.
The dwarf King was surprisingly soft and gentle, a hand reaching out to cup the hobbits cheek. Bilbo wrapped his arms around Thorin’s neck, pulling him closer and deepening their kiss. Thorin used his free hand to brush against his hobbits back, and pull him into his lap. Bilbo broke their kiss apart, breathing heavily.
“I don’t mean to alarm you, Thorin, but I’m fairly certain that I have rather strong feelings for you.”
“Well, I assure you that the feeling is quite mutual, my burglar.”