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There were dwarven hair beads on Bilbo’s writing table.
There shouldn’t be, of course, since Bilbo wasn’t a dwarf and had no need of such things in his hair, or indeed on his desk. Parchment, some books, quills and ink, yes. Hair beads, no; yet there they sat, shining innocently in the lamp light as Bilbo stared at them in confusion and then blinked. When that failed to make them disappear, he sighed in exasperation, scooped them up in one hand and headed back out into the corridor to return them to their likely owner. He hadn’t seen Thorin dining in the hall, so there was a chance he would be in his chambers instead and they were close enough to Bilbo’s rooms for him to check quickly if Thorin was around.
Even after a month it still felt a little surreal to be living in what was essentially a king’s palace, even if the king was as familiar to him as Thorin. But when Bilbo decided to stay on in the Lonely Mountain, Thorin had insisted on it and since the rest of the Company were also going to be lodging there Bilbo gave in and accepted, saving his energy for arguing Thorin and his nephews down from a suite that was positively palatial in itself. After all this time constantly around the others, first on the road and then essentially still camping together in a hall in Erebor while the living areas were cleared, Bilbo had certainly been looking forward to having his own private rooms once more but he didn’t need cavernous ones that could have contained his bedroom in Bag End seven times over, including a grand staircase and an indoor balcony of all ridiculous things. Thorin had grumbled mightily when Bilbo had chosen a far more modest set of chambers, but Bilbo had stood firm and he was far more comfortable in them than something larger. Dori had helped him salvage and clean some more hobbit-like furniture to use until Bilbo could arrange to have his favourites sent in caravan from the Shire, and the rooms had begun to feel like home far quicker than Bilbo had expected.
He didn’t even get lost in the grand corridors anymore, at least not in the royal residence, and Bilbo absentmindedly hummed the mining song Bofur had been teaching him as he trotted round corners and up and down steps, gently jingling the beads in time as he amused himself picturing Thorin’s chagrined expression when Bilbo returned them. It was an expression he had seen frequently lately, as Thorin had seemingly lost the ability to keep track of his belongings in exchange for regaining his sense of direction now that he was home and on familiar ground.
It wasn’t that Bilbo minded Thorin wandering by his rooms in the evenings to collect whatever he had managed to leave on the previous occasion, like a scroll, or his gauntlets, or even his crown though that was only once or twice since Thorin did not wear it as a matter of course. (Actually, Bilbo did mind him forgetting the crown slightly as he didn’t feel he could carry it through Erebor to track Thorin down, and leaving it lying on his table until Thorin showed up made him nervous that someone would see and accuse him of unsanctioned burglary.) It gave him a chance to have Thorin all to himself for a while since Thorin invariably joined Bilbo in sitting by his fire for a time, and there were some days when he would never have seen the dwarf otherwise, so busy was he with rebuilding the kingdom.
If he was totally honest, when the habit started Bilbo had been glad that Thorin was relaxed enough in his company to be forgetful of things. During the recovery from his wounds Thorin had often watched Bilbo like he couldn’t quite believe the hobbit was there and not some fevered imagining conjured by the remorse that hung over him almost visibly. Even once he had recovered enough to accept Bilbo’s presence as real, Thorin had been uncomfortable in his company, palpably tense with his need to make amends. It had taken time and patience, and a lot of invitations to share scones and tea, before he seemed to believe that Bilbo’s words of forgiveness on the battlefield had been genuine and that it hadn’t altered with Thorin’s failure to die on Ravenhill. And he wasn’t some paragon of goodness for that either, no matter what Thorin seemed to think. It had simply been impossible for Bilbo to hold a grudge over something that Thorin clearly regretted so very deeply, especially since Bilbo was hardly blameless in the case himself.
So yes, it wasn’t like Thorin treating his rooms like the Shire’s lost and found was unpleasant for Bilbo, though it was slightly worrying that a king should be so scatterbrained. But now that Thorin had started leaving items as personal as his hair beads behind it was getting a bit ridiculous. Especially since Bilbo wasn’t even sure how Thorin had managed to forget those when he hadn’t even removed them to sleep when they were on the road and there was no way Bilbo would have missed him undoing his hair given how much it tended to draw his eye. Simply because it was so different from a hobbit’s of course, and not at all because it framed Thorin’s face so nicely or because Bilbo was wondering if it would feel as soft as it looked.
That was the real drawback of Thorin’s almost daily visits to collect his belongings, you see: they weren’t unpleasant for Bilbo at all. Quite the reverse; the more time Bilbo spent watching Thorin’s face in the firelight and talking quietly with him over the events of the day, the more Bilbo found himself basking in the warmth of Thorin’s smiles and the way he listened to Bilbo’s opinions despite his lack of knowledge of dwarven culture, and the deeper Bilbo’s attraction to the dratted dwarf grew. And Bilbo was dreadfully afraid that one evening Thorin’s smiles were going to cause him to snap and he would simply throw himself into Thorin’s lap and try to kiss him senseless.
That kind of behaviour simply would not do. Not only would it be most improper without at least some discussion of intentions first, but Bilbo had also so far been unable to determine if that was something Thorin would welcome from him. He was uncertain of whether Thorin was even inclined towards other males because he couldn’t think of any way to ask him without being completely obvious in his reasons, and discreet attempts to lead conversations with the rest of the Company in that direction had been most unhelpful. He had been left with the distinct impression from Thorin’s nephews and Glóin that Thorin had never been attracted to another being at all, and he hadn’t dared to probe Balin, who might have been a better bet, for fear that his shrewder friend would see straight through him. He knew enough of dwarven culture to be sure that an invitation to his bed would not cause offense, but it was still a risk to the closeness they shared now and even without that risk, Bilbo wanted so much more than a tumble with a friend.
Looking back, Bilbo could see that he had been well on his way to in love with Thorin even before all the mess with the Arkenstone and the Battle of Five Armies, probably he’d been falling head over heels ever since the hug on the Carrock. But it was spending time with this quieter, calmer Thorin, who was working so hard to give his people back the best home he could and whose love and care for them shone brighter than that blasted stone ever had, that had made Bilbo unable to deny his feelings any longer.
That was why Bilbo was returning the beads now, in the hope that this would head off Thorin visiting later and let him escape at least one evening of intimacy before he did something reckless. Between the work he was doing with Ori and Balin to sort through Erebor’s records during the day and Thorin’s distracting presence at night, he had had no time for serious reflection on his situation and he needed that to consider if he truly had a chance at gaining Thorin’s heart or whether he should try to move on.
Oh, Bilbo was aware that Thorin considered him a dear friend, and there was a softness of expression sometimes in Thorin’s eyes when they were together that augured well. But Thorin was also noticeably less tactile with Bilbo than he had been prior to the battle and Bilbo could not tell whether that was due to lingering guilt, the responsibility of being King Under the Mountain or some other reason he hadn’t thought of yet. Given the amount of time Thorin chose to spend in Bilbo’s company he was fairly confident that it had nothing to do with Thorin feeling less warmly towards him than he had before but it didn’t actually help Bilbo with his dilemma.
For Bilbo’s greatest worry about declaring his feelings was not that Thorin would reject him, but that if Bilbo made his love known Thorin would say yes to a romantic relationship for the wrong reasons. Because Bilbo was also well aware that Thorin felt he had done little to earn back Bilbo’s friendship and that he owed Bilbo a deep debt besides for warning them of Azog’s trap before they had a chance to split their forces on Ravenhill. Bilbo himself still thanked all the fates every day that he had reached the dwarves in time to stop Fíli and Kíli being sent off on their own, given how close they had still all come to death even with the help of Tauriel and Legolas, but such considerations had no place in matters of the heart. He wanted nothing more than to be with Thorin but Bilbo didn’t want it to be because Thorin was attempting to return his feelings out of a misguided sense of obligation or gratitude.
Really, all Bilbo wanted was some way to know for certain whether Thorin’s affection for him stopped at friendship or had the potential for more so that he could know how to act. Surely that wasn’t too much to ask.
He reached Thorin’s rooms and knocked, fully prepared to find that Thorin had not yet returned from his duties. There was a pause long enough for Bilbo to think that was going to be the case and he was just resigning himself to lurking in wait when Thorin’s deep voice called for him to enter. He found Thorin standing almost at attention by the fire, hands clasped behind his back, and Bilbo studied him with concern as he kicked the door closed behind him, wondering if something had gone wrong with the restoration or if Thorin had had to deal with some issue concerning elves.
“Master Baggins,” Thorin greeted him with a nod and a stiff expression, and Bilbo frowned a little at the formality.
“Master Oakenshield,” he said pointedly in return and Thorin’s shoulders got even tenser. “I brought you these back,” he went on, lifting his hand with the beads on his open palm, “and really I think –” but the flash of pain on Thorin’s face and his shaky intake of breath stopped Bilbo’s lecture on keeping track of his belongings cold. “Thorin?” he asked, worried at his sudden pallor and afraid that he was ill or hurt, but Thorin’s raised hand halted him again.
“Bilbo,” he said, and he winced and closed his eyes for a second, swallowing hard, before he opened them again to meet Bilbo’s gaze directly, and Bilbo felt another surge of worry at the lost look he saw there. What had happened, had someone died?
“You need not continue,” Thorin went on, dropping his gaze to somewhere around Bilbo’s shoulders even as his own slumped. “I never thought that you would accept, I know I have little to offer that you would care for,” and Bilbo was staring in confusion now because Thorin’s hoarse words were so unexpected he simply couldn’t follow the meaning and the last time he had seen Thorin look so desolate was when he thought that the Company had failed to find the hidden keyhole to the door into the mountain. “I just… I had to try,” Thorin finished, even more quietly and Bilbo blinked at his downturned face and the unhappy slant of Thorin’s mouth, a wild surmise growing in his mind because that sounded almost... but he couldn’t trust his interpretation to be more than wishful thinking, not when he was so clearly missing something.
“Thorin,” he said again, and had to take a steadying breath himself before he went on carefully, “I think we might not be having the same conversation here. And I, I think I need you to explain,” and he almost took it back at Thorin’s not-quite suppressed flinch, but he needed to understand.
“But Balin said you had asked him what our beads meant,” Thorin said almost helplessly and his shoulders were bunching up again, his hands clenching, while Bilbo’s mind went racing back over every time he had tried to find out more about dwarven culture during the quest and after, and the beads, the beads… Personal, Balin had said, given to those in their hearts, and Bilbo had thought that meant family because Balin had pointed out to him the ones he had given Dwalin and the ones Fíli and Kíli wore for their uncle, and Thorin’s words and that knowledge came together in a flash.
“Did… did you just propose marriage to me using hair beads?” Bilbo said faintly, heart pounding with possibility.
Thorin’s tiny nod was the confirmation of Bilbo’s leap of logic, and for the love of little green apples, Bilbo was an idiot because for all the time he had spent waiting and wondering how Thorin felt, he had still somehow missed Thorin handing his heart over on a platter.
Before he could berate himself too much though Thorin was stepping forward, head still lowered as he reached a hand slowly towards the one Bilbo still had extended with the two beads cupped in his palm.
“You. You can give them back now,” Thorin said, his voice cracking a little on the last word and his hand shaking slightly, and Bilbo instinctively snapped his fist closed over the beads and clutched them to his chest, Thorin freezing at the sudden movement.
“You are never getting these back,” Bilbo swore fervently. “Never,” and Thorin’s head finally jerked up again as he stared at Bilbo in shock.
“What?”
“That means yes, right?” Bilbo asked quickly, determined not to have any further misunderstandings. “Yes. I accept. Though I’m not sure they will stay in my hair, would it be acceptable to use a necklace?” he rambled on as Thorin seemed to be in a daze at his words.
“Yes,” Thorin finally managed, sounding as dazed as he looked. “But, but why?” and Bilbo cocked his head in confusion, almost tempted to laugh at them both for being so mutually oblivious and because he could feel an almost dizzying happiness welling up inside him.
“You don’t already know? Thorin, you cannot have truly thought I would say no to you?” he teased, but felt his humour die a little when Thorin nodded.
“Why would you say yes?” he asked simply in reply and it looked like Thorin still didn’t believe that Bilbo had. “I’m not handsome like Dori and Dwalin, or merry like Bofur and the lads. A dwarf might be willing to ignore that and take me for the status and wealth, but I know you care nothing for kings or gold and without that I’m just a scarred old dwarf.”
Bilbo had nearly smiled at Thorin’s first words because he had always found Thorin almost ridiculously handsome, but Thorin truly seemed to believe what he was saying and by the end Bilbo’s heart ached with the need to soothe away Thorin’s uncertainty because he was so much more than he had described.
“Thorin,” he said softly, then found he couldn’t stand there being distance between them any longer. He dropped the beads safely into his upper waistcoat pocket, took a quick step forward and went up on his toes to wrap his arms around Thorin’s shoulders in a hug, leaning their heads together and sighing with relief when Thorin’s arms closed around his waist and he buried his head in Bilbo’s shoulder. “I did say yes. I would always have said yes, no matter how you asked, and if I hadn’t been so blind to how you felt, or just a bit braver, I would have asked you to be mine long since,” he murmured into Thorin’s ear and felt him shudder, arms tightening around Bilbo and pulling him closer. “And I’m just an ordinary hobbit from the Shire, with nothing more to offer you than myself and I doubt very much whether many dwarves would count me handsome,” he babbled on, losing his train of thought a little because of how good it felt to be held in Thorin’s strong embrace once more.
“You’re lovely,” Thorin protested into Bilbo’s neck and he stroked his hands through Thorin’s hair, finding it just as thick and soft as he’d always imagined and feeling a bit overwhelmed as Thorin continued, “and clever and kind, and so brave and compassionate that you faced a dragon for the sake of our home. You deserve so much more than me.”
Bilbo pulled back to try and see Thorin’s expression, aching for him again as Thorin instantly let go like he thought Bilbo meant to leave, and he reached out to cup Thorin’s face in his hands as Thorin opened his mouth to speak, laying one thumb across his lips to stop him.
“Do you love me, Thorin?” he asked and Thorin nodded silently. Bilbo was sure he could see every bit of Thorin’s heart in his eyes as he stretched to rest their foreheads together, hoping Thorin could see everything Bilbo felt in his own.
“And I love you,” Bilbo said, shushing Thorin quickly when he tried to speak again, and fumbling for the words he needed. Bilbo had always been reticent before to speak of his deepest feelings, but for Thorin’s sake he would be direct. “You’re right that I don’t care about your status or your riches. I love you for your passion and determination. I love you for your strength and your loyalty and how you try so very hard to protect and improve everyone’s life except your own. I love you because… because you are Thorin, and that has always been more than enough,” and before Thorin could say anything else, Bilbo leaned in and tried to put every ounce of love he had into a kiss, revelling in the surprisingly silky feel of Thorin’s beard against his skin and the way Thorin’s lips softened beneath his as he began to respond.
The kiss was mostly chaste as fitted a first embrace, but it was a lasting one. Thorin’s mouth, that could look so stern, was unexpectedly sweet against Bilbo’s own and every time he thought about pulling back Bilbo found himself lingering for a few more delicious moments. When the kiss finally ended, he was pleased to see that happiness was beginning to lighten Thorin’s eyes at last though it was still a little more cautious than he would have liked.
Well, Bilbo was not going anywhere now that he knew how Thorin felt, and he thought he had more than proved that his stubbornness was at least equal to Thorin’s. He beamed his own joy and Thorin’s mouth curved into the soft smile that Bilbo had always loved the most, and seen most rarely. Though now that he thought about it, it had always appeared when they were alone in some quiet close conversation and Bilbo really had been blind as a bat and an utter fool to boot not to have realised what the tenderness in it meant before now.
He leaned in again to taste it and felt Thorin’s lips curl under his into a bigger smile. “Bilbo,” he breathed and Bilbo hummed in response and nuzzled their faces together. “You really do mean it,” Thorin finished, awestruck, and Bilbo had to clench his eyes closed against a rush of emotion because to have inspired that in Thorin, Thorin who felt so deeply and fiercely… he didn’t know how he had been granted such good fortune.
“Yes, I do,” he whispered back and Thorin clutched him tightly, burying his face against Bilbo’s neck once more as Bilbo pressed kisses into the silken tangle of Thorin’s hair.
“You are my heart,” Thorin said fervently, Bilbo feeling the words against his throat with the brush of Thorin’s lips and beard as much as he heard them. “My sun and stars, the light that I’ve craved in darkness and the warmth that I’ve longed for all these cold years, and all that I am and will be is yours –” and Bilbo couldn’t bear it, it was too much, he had to drag Thorin’s lips back to his, and this time the kiss quickly turned almost desperate with Thorin’s hands tight on Bilbo’s shoulder and hip and Bilbo’s buried deep in Thorin’s hair.
When Bilbo licked hungrily at the seam of Thorin’s lips he couldn’t hold back a moan and he felt his knees go weak at Thorin’s answering groan. He started pushing Thorin back towards the great padded bench that stood near the fireplace and Thorin went willingly enough, though he made a sound of surprise into Bilbo’s mouth when his knees hit it and broke away from the kiss with a gasp. Bilbo simply grinned at him quickly and then shoved hard at his dwarf’s chest and Thorin sank down obediently, expression slightly bewildered. And Bilbo finally got to do what he’d been dreaming of all this while by scrambling straight up to kneel astride Thorin’s lap where he took shameless advantage of Thorin’s open-mouthed surprise to slide his tongue inside and taste Thorin as deeply and thoroughly as he had desired.
Thorin’s deep moan when he did that vibrated right through Bilbo and made him greedy for more, but before he could react Thorin broke away and grabbed onto his shoulders to hold him in place. “Bilbo,” he gasped, and his tone was shocked enough that Bilbo blinked and stopped trying to squirm forward to get their mouths back together. Thorin was breathing hard and his lips were beautifully red and enticing, but his cheeks and ears were flushed even darker and he ducked his head a little under Bilbo’s gaze, dropping his eyes. Bilbo would never have expected Thorin to show any signs of shyness, but if that wasn’t what he was seeing now he would eat Dwalin’s boots.
“Thorin?” he said softly, and when he reached to cup Thorin’s cheek he was relieved that Thorin immediately nestled into his hand, though he didn’t look up. “Have I been terribly forward for a dwarf then?” Bilbo asked, managing to keep his voice wry despite a small curl of worry and was even more relieved when Thorin chuckled quietly in response and relaxed the grip of his hands, finally meeting Bilbo’s eyes again.
“Perhaps… perhaps a little,” Thorin said, still a bit breathless, and he ducked his gaze again but kept going, “but I have little enough experience in such matters to know for sure,” and now it was Bilbo’s turn to be shocked because that was the last thing he would have expected. What he had learned about dwarven ways suggested they had fewer relationships before settling down than hobbits generally did, but Thorin was old enough and, frankly, tempting enough that it had never occurred to him Thorin might feel inexperienced as a lover. And Bilbo was not going to speculate about exactly how inexperienced Thorin might be because the mere possibility that Bilbo might get to be the first to bed him was making a terribly distracting heat pool in his belly.
“I am sorry,” he murmured and Thorin smiled a little and turned his head to kiss Bilbo’s hand gently.
“I did not say I did not like it,” he said just as quietly, glancing up through his eyelashes at Bilbo and blushing again, and oh dear that really was doing dreadful things to Bilbo’s self-control.
“Well, then,” Bilbo said, sliding sideways off Thorin’s lap and onto the bench, “come here,” and when Thorin twisted and met him halfway he guided them into a kiss that was as lush and tender as he could make it. Now that he was no longer caught unawares Thorin was ardently responsive, if still a little hesitant, and the next several moments went by in a haze of teasing tongues, eager lips and heat. By the time Bilbo finally had to draw back to catch his breath they were entwined in a close embrace, and Thorin had fairly melted into his arms.
Thorin was breathing deeply too, and there was a heart-breaking tenderness in his eyes as he looked at Bilbo and raised a hand to stroke gently through Bilbo’s curls. “Can I… can I braid your beads in?” he asked softly, and when Bilbo nodded Thorin beamed and Bilbo went breathless all over again at how it lit up his face.
He pressed his hand to where the beads rested over his ribs then fished them out for Thorin to take. “Well, with all my heart you can try,” he amended, “though I think my hair is too short and fine to hold them long,” and Thorin plucked the first out of his palm with a determined expression that was endearingly familiar.
“As long as I can see them once in your hair where they belong I will be satisfied,” he said, already working with deft fingers along Bilbo’s temple and Bilbo relaxed against him and enjoyed the sensation.
“Should I give some to you?” he asked, eyes closing, and he felt Thorin’s hands pause a moment.
“A dwarf would, but you are a hobbit and you needn’t if you do not wish to. Wearing these in a courting braid is enough to show I am yours now,” and Bilbo hummed a little in surprise, opening his eyes again as Thorin asked “Bilbo?” in response.
“I thought they meant the opposite, that I am yours,” he explained and it was Thorin’s turn for surprise.
“No, they are given as an offer of oneself, not a demand of the other,” he said before going on curiously, “Is that not the way of hobbits then? How do you show your intentions?”
“Hmm. Well,” Bilbo said, considering it. “I suppose we don’t have anything we display like this. Hobbits are so fond of gossip that everyone always knows who is courting and who is just dallying without anyone needing to announce it. When we propose I would say the question is more on the lines of ‘will you be mine’, though since I don’t have any personal experience there I may have been misled by romantic tales.”
“You don’t give each other anything?” Thorin asked, sounding positively shocked, and his eyes fell away from their satisfied contemplation of the new weight in Bilbo’s hair to stare at him.
“Oh yes,” Bilbo replied while Thorin took up the second bead and turned his head the other direction, “but flowers mostly, chosen for their meanings, or the best cakes we can make. Some of the wealthier families exchange rings on the wedding day, but that is not a common practice.”
“And you have called dwarven propriety into question,” Thorin murmured with a smirk, “when it turns out hobbits themselves are so unseemly,” and Bilbo mock-glared and tugged at Thorin’s own braid in reprimand, though he was secretly delighted that Thorin was recovering enough from the torrent of intense emotion to regain his sense of humour.
“And when you lot learn to properly appreciate good manners, the benefits of diplomatic small talk and the value of an impeccable reputation for respectability, I will stop questioning it,” he retorted. “Not to mention the pleasures of a proper cup of tea,” and Thorin stopped fiddling with his hair and rubbed their noses together affectionately.
“I have enjoyed your cups of tea a great deal of late,” he said in a low rumble and Bilbo had to nudge their lips together in another lingering kiss before he could continue speaking.
“So have I,” he said on a sigh as they separated, “and I’ve already been baking you my favourite scones,” he added just to see Thorin smile. “But that isn’t seemly for a dwarf, and I don’t have any beads for you nor the skills to make them, much as I would like to show that I am also yours,” and Thorin stroked his cheek gently before he pressed his lips to either side of Bilbo’s head, presumably where the beads now were.
“I did not make these, they belonged to my mother,” he said into Bilbo’s ear and Bilbo shivered at the ticklish vibration and brush of beard. “It is not unusual for someone without such heirlooms or a talent for detail work to employ another’s hands. As long as the design is yours, if you truly wish to do so you could commission some and I would wear them with pride,” and Bilbo tightened his arms around Thorin once more while he pressed kisses in his turn to the start of the braids Thorin currently wore.
“Commission, hmm? Isn’t Fíli a rather fine jeweller?” Bilbo asked, doing some ear nuzzling of his own before scraping his teeth gently against the lobe and making Thorin jerk and gasp.
“Yes! Yes, that’s, oh. Family would be best,” Thorin said in a strained voice as Bilbo continued teasing with little nibbles down the line of Thorin’s throat, most of his attention now on making Thorin continue to squirm so delightfully but with a small part of his mind turning over the possibilities of flowers and beads combined for both their traditions, and jewels as blue as Thorin’s eyes.
He was attempting to tug the collar of Thorin’s tunic down for more access when Bilbo felt the slide at the left side of his head and he jerked upright just in time to catch the bead as it fell, quickly clasping his hand to the second and finding it was also coming loose, and he shrugged ruefully at Thorin’s disappointed expression. He knew now how important it was to Thorin that he wear them as tokens. “Sorry,” he said, holding them tightly in his hand once more, and Thorin shook his head and hugged Bilbo close for a long moment.
“Wait,” he said finally, sliding off the bench and Bilbo watched him cross the room and enter his bedchamber, returning shortly after with a length of silver chain in his hand.
“Put them on this,” Thorin said, sitting next to Bilbo again, and when Bilbo complied he took the chain back and fastened it around Bilbo’s neck, so that the beads sat at the front over his clothes. “Wearing it so they are seen should make the meaning clear without a braid, since they can’t be your own,” and Bilbo nodded as Thorin stroked them with a finger. “Perhaps they might stay in better attached to combs, or with a clasp. I could make some that would be very fine,” Thorin said thoughtfully, and Bilbo tilted his head uncertainly, not sure if that would look ridiculous or not. Thorin hesitated momentarily at his look before going on, “Copper would almost vanish in your curls,” and Bilbo smiled, charmed that Thorin had guessed his thoughts so easily and changed his idea to reassure him, because Bilbo knew well enough that Thorin’s original thoughts would have been of something much more ostentatious.
“Perhaps,” he said and Thorin smiled back and rested his hand over the beads so that Bilbo felt it as a wide patch of heat on his chest. Bilbo thought for a moment of trying to recapture where they had been when the beads had slipped but the passionate mood had turned into a gentler one, and he felt it would perhaps be wiser not to rush forward when they were likely both still reeling from the emotional revelations.
He took Thorin’s face in his hands for a last soft kiss, feeling him respond in kind, before touching their foreheads in the dwarven gesture he was becoming increasingly fond of. “Shall I see you before breakfast?” he suggested, and knew he had chosen the right path when Thorin relaxed minutely against him, eyes closing briefly.
“Please,” Thorin breathed, and Bilbo found himself kissing those lovely lips again in what was definitely the last embrace for the night.
“Goodnight then, love,” he said, tearing himself away and standing up to back slowly towards the door.
“Goodnight, Bilbo. Sweet dreams,” Thorin replied, watching Bilbo’s every step, and when he reached the door they just smiled at each other for another long moment before Bilbo nodded with a chuckle and slipped out to the corridor.
Yes, his dreams tonight should be sweet indeed.