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At first, Bilbo didn't notice it.
Later, he supposed that must've been because it was such an unexpected revelation. He had just written off all the aborted gestures, the respectful distance kept between them, the way he always seemed to wait for Bilbo to take his hand- as Thorin pushing himself to try and make physical contact for Bilbo's sake. They were dating after all, and a certain amount of affection was expected by most.
But Bilbo never really felt the lack. He tended to be more distant in his affections- more prone to spouting poetry than curling up in his partner's lap. (Not that he'd ever written any poems of the sort, which were not hidden under his mattress, no sir). He felt a little bad about letting Thorin struggle to give what Bilbo had no need of, but his efforts were so adorable that he let it go on for longer than he probably should have.
The two were enjoying a late night snack one evening, curled up on Thorin's couch, when he decided enough was enough- he would put poor Thorin out of his misery.
"You know," Bilbo said when Thorin's hand reached out for him across the couch's back, only to recede hastily when he noticed Bilbo watching him. "You don't have to do that."
"Do what," Thorin mumbled around a mouthful of dessert, eyes widening even as his cheeks puffed out with food.
Bilbo choked back a giggle at Thorin's innocent expression. "Try to touch me. Or, you don't have to try for my sake, I mean. I'm not really a particularly cuddly… sort of person."
"Oh," Thorin said, and Bilbo looked up just in time to see the crestfallen look leaving Thorin's face. It was quickly replaced by a carefully neutral expression. "Alright. What did you say this stuff is called again?"
"Tiramisù," Bilbo replied.
"Tiramisù," Thorin repeated in wonderment. "And what did you say you put in it?"
Bilbo laughed, and explained the recipe to Thorin for the second time that evening. But he was not quite deceived by Thorin's easy acceptance.
His suspicion was proven right when, for the next few days, Thorin didn't touch him. Not once.
"You know," Bilbo started techily when his dear, sweet, thick-headed boyfriend placed himself ever-so-carefully on the couch, taking care not to even let their shirtsleeves brush as he settled down beside him. "When I said you don't have to go out of your way to touch me, this is not what I meant."
Thorin frowned, glaring at the coffee table in front of them. "What did you mean, then."
"Thorin," Bilbo sighed, reaching over to take Thorin's hand in his. He waited until Thorin finally looked up at him before speaking.
"What is it," Bilbo asked, kindly, stroking his thumb gently over his wrist.
Thorin breathed deeply, looking down at their intertwined hands softly for a moment before untangling them gently, a businesslike expression on his face again. He put Bilbo's hand back on his side of the couch and folded his arms across his chest. "Nothing," he growled.
But Bilbo had seen a window, and he was intended to take it.
He stood, straightening his shirt primly before marching across the width of the couch and depositing himself in Thorin's lap. "What. Is. Wrong," he asked, pressing a kiss to Thorin's face with each word. When he pulled back, he was surprised to see what could almost be called a blush spreading across Thorin's face even as his hands twined themselves gently around Bilbo's back.
"You dolt," Bilbo laughed as it struck him. He pressed a kiss firmly to Thorin's lips and pushed him down until Bilbo was laying across his chest, tangling their legs together and wrapping his arms around Thorin's middle. "If you like to cuddle then you should've said so," he told him firmly, softening his words by rubbing his cheek against the fabric of Thorin's soft tee-shirt.
"You said you didn't like to," Thorin replied, and his voice sounded even deeper with Bilbo's ear pressed against his chest. "And I don't want to push you into anything, just for my the sake of my whims."
"I want to give you what you want, whether it's 'just a whim' or not," Bilbo told him. "That's why I'm dating you, you confusticating man."
This was met by silence and Bilbo sighed, heaving himself up on his elbows so he could look Thorin in the face.
"You," Bilbo said, jabbing his finger into Thorin's pectoral. "Need to learn to ask for what you need."
"I don't --" Thorin started, but Bilbo cut him off.
"You do! You need this. And I'm going to give it to you whether you want it or not! From now on, I'm going to be the cuddliest damn boyfriend you could ever wish after! I'll positively hang off you until you order me to stop or be stopped!"
Thorin surrendered finally with a great sigh of defeat, pulling Bilbo down against him halfway through his tirade and turning them on their sides so Bilbo was settled against his warm front, positively engulfed in Thorin's protective warmth. "Never," Thorin said, his words muffled in Bilbo's hair. "Never going to order you to stop. Love this."
Bilbo hummed, letting his hands drift up and down Thorin's broad back. He felt safe and warm and unexpectedly comfortable here. Usually cuddling just made him feel sweaty and self-conscious, but this was... nice.
They lay together like that for what seemed like hours. Bilbo fell asleep reflecting that he might be able to get used to this.
He woke to the sound of a door slamming, still drowsy and warm in Thorin's arms, which hadn't moved or slackened around his waist in however long they had been laying here.
"What's this then," a voice boomed from the doorway. Bilbo almost groaned as Thorin stiffened, obviously feeling threatened by his roommate's presence in their intimate moment, despite how close Bilbo had come to know the two were. "Having a nice little cuddle on the couch," Dwalin cooed, reaching around Bilbo to try and pinch Thorin's cheek. Thorin slapped his hand away harshly.
"Don't tease Thorin just for being a good boyfriend," Bilbo chirped indignantly, glaring up at the Dwalin. He made a show of curling himself closer, tighter around Thorin's form.
Dwalin sobered at Bilbo's serious tone, dancing away from Thorin's stinging fingers and staring down at Bilbo with a look that could only be described as gentle. "I wouldn't dream of it, laddie. It was just a bit of fun," he said agreeably. "I smell food. What's for supper?"
Bilbo huffed out a laugh. "For you? The two week old chinese in the back. Don't you dare touch the chicken parm I made for Thorin!"
Dwalin was already gone, rifling through the fridge, loudly. The smell of chicken and cheese flowed out into the living room from the kitchen and the microwave dinged.
"He microwaved my cooking," Bilbo said in a scandalized tone. "Unbelievable."
Thorin huffed a laugh, burrowing down to press a gentle kiss to Bilbo's lips. "You don't know what you've just saved me from," he breathed. "I'd have never lived it down if Dwalin had found out."
"It's our little secret," Bilbo whispered, winking. Thorin rolled his eyes, but smiled, leaning down to kiss him again, deeper this time.
"Very good, this," Dwalin shouted from the kitchen. "Is there anything else?"