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It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Bilbo was supposed to help the company find their home again and then go back to bag end, maybe exchange letters with them once a year but otherwise live separate lives.
He wasn’t supposed to actually enjoy the presence of the twelve dwarves so much.
He wasn’t supposed to wish for their friendship to live past this quest.
And he certainly wasn’t supposed to catch feelings for their leader.
Especially considering Thorin had spent quite a big part of their journey so far seemingly angry at him.
Bilbo couldn't even really be mad at him for it. He knew he didn't really leave an impression on the king, but he couldn't stop the small stab in his chest whenever Thorin looked at him with his disappointed gaze. “You don’t belong here” had he clearly heard in the other’s gaze. “You should never have joined us.”
By the time the eagles had rescued them, Thorin’s eyes had started to change. They no longer screamed at him to go back into the shire. No, when their eyes locked nowadays, Bilbo felt calm, he felt like Thorin had started accepting him as part of their little company, maybe even as a friend. A friend. Only a friend. Yet Bilbo couldn’t stop his heartbeat from quickening whenever he looked at the other. It troubled him, how his cheeks would heat up whenever Thorin smiled at him, how he would start messing up his words, fumble with his clothes. He wasn’t a damned teenager anymore, he wasn’t supposed to have stupid crushes on people anymore, especially not on a dwarven king.
And yet, here he was. Here he was, watching Thorin get off his horse and slowly approach the gate to mirkwood. He knew he should be worried about their upcoming passing of the woods, they didn’t have that name without reason, yet his thoughts were (once more) preoccupied with Thorin. Their eyes met briefly and Bilbo’s heart fell as he saw nothing but worry in them. Worry and an unmistakably high burden, the responsibility for the company, for their safety and their well-being, despite most of the dangers facing them being entirely out of Thorin’s control.
Dwalin ripped him out of his thoughts, huffing as he stepped on the path without thinking about it twice “Can’t be all that bad, can it now?” He huffed, “If Gandalf thinks we can do it by ourselves, then we can. How are we going to kill a damn dragon if we can’t even cross a forest.” This logic seemed to work for most of the others and one by one they followed Dwalin, who was now cursing the forest and all Sindar under his breath as he lead them on, holding Nori’s hand tightly. Bilbo watched their subtle display of affection so intently he didn’t even notice that the only people not walking yet were him and Thorin.
“What are you waiting for, Master Thief? Surely you aren’t afraid of a few trees.”
“N-No,” he stuttered, obviously proving to Thorin that he was scared, “No, no, I was just...distracted.” He refused to meet the other’s eyes as he hurried to catch up with the others, missing the look of endearment Thorin followed him with.
The woods shrouded Bilbo’s thoughts almost immediately. He felt dizzy soon,his mind disoriented as he held onto what he assumed to be tree bark. Somewhere far or near, he couldn’t tell, Fili and Kili were arguing about something. He knew they must be close by logic but, for the love of god, where the hell did they go. He tried finding them when suddenly, he felt someone hold him back by his forearm. Thorin.
“Bilbo.”
Even through the haze of his mind it registered that the king had never called him only by his first name before.
“Bilbo,” the king said once more and when Bilbo turned to face him he saw the same confusion in his eyes he was sure was mirrored in his own. “Bilbo, stay close, these woods aren’t normal.”
This almost made Bilbo laugh, but he frowned as he realized he couldn’t hear the others anymore.
“Thorin...Thorin I think we lost the rest,” he mumbled, forcing himself to not focus on the warmth that Thorin’s hand on his arm radiated or how close they were standing. At the mention of the others, Thorin’s face hardened as worry pushed away the confusion. “You’re right, we need to hurry… let’s hope they did not walk away from the path.”
The king took Bilbo’s hand in his, either not noticing or ignoring how clammy they had definitely gotten, and pulled him along as they tried not to lose their way. Bilbo could barely comprehend this situation. Half of him was still doubting if Thorin was really here or if it was merely an illusion of the woods, but he pushed his doubts aside quickly, not even the woods could make the grasp on his arm, the look in Thorin’s eyes feel so real. Convinced by this thought, Bilbo followed Thorin through the thickening mist, trying to see if his feet were still walking down the path as he wanted them to do.
Soon he felt his senses cloud again. The mist was circling the two, like they were its next prey, reaching out with thin shrouds, wishing to grasp them fully. Bilbo gulped and stood still, pulling the king closer. “Thorin.” He finally said, noting how dully he heard his own voice. “Thorin, there’s no use. We lost them.” The king’s gaze flickered over Bilbo’s face, then he nodded. “You’re right...they must have steered away from the path.” At his words the mist seemed to back away slightly and Bilbo noted that they were surrounded by trees, as if they were their own, two people clearing. He could have sworn that hadn’t been the case before, but he quickly abandoned the thought as he vaguely registered Thorin taking his second hand.
“Bilbo, I am terribly sorry…” the king’s voice rang clear in his ear, pushing away the mist that had numbed them. “I should have never dragged you into this and now we may never find our way back an-” He could never finish his apology. Bilbo did the one thing he could’ve never fathomed the courage to outside of these woods. He closed the distance between them, took Thorin’s face into both of his hands and kissed the other. All his senses turned off. The only thing he could feel were Thorin’s lips against his own.
Maybe it was that, that made him fail to register Thorin’s feet slowly dissolving in the fog encircling them. Had he not been locked in the kiss, he would have noticed the fog creeping up not only his, but also Thorin’s hips, then his torso. In front of Bilbo’s closed eyes, the illusion of Thorin slowly evaporated back into the fog it had always been made of. Had Bilbo not been so desperate for the King’s kiss, he might have noticed before it was too late that he wasn’t kissing the king at all.