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"Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves!" Came a small shout from just outside the doors to Thorin's room as the source of the voice came through and closed them. Bilbo stood there with a red face and white knuckles pressed against the door handles.
Thorin looked up from his desk and raised a brow at him, partially concerned but mostly amused. It had been six months since Erebor had been reclaimed. Six months since Thorin had asked Bilbo to stay with him, live with him, share his life. He was more or less shocked when he had agreed and kissed him up at Raven's Pointe, still grimy and bloodied from the battle.
He had to admit they made a good life together so far. Thorin's quarters were made up to look more homely and lived in while an entrance was dug out in the wall that led outside to a small balcony and garden on the side of the mountain, overseeing the town of Dale and beyond.
Bilbo, meanwhile, had taken it upon himself to help Thorin organize and sort out rebuilding efforts and diplomatic deals between the elves and men, stating that "If you're as charming with Thranduil as you were the last time you met each other then there's going to be another war." And Thorin was more grateful than he would admit for the small hobbit taking on such large responsibilities just to help him.
But now here was his same beloved hobbit, red faced, frustrated and yelling on about dwarves and their stubbornness. Thorin put away his pen and ink, standing from his chair with a small creak of wood and making his way over to where Bilbo stood.
"Fili and Kili have broken several new tables made for the dining hall while rough housing, Dwalin refuses to help tear down a statue that is blocking a hallway, and I caught Bofur in the pantry again!!" Bilbo sighed and slumped against the door, slowly deflating from his anger filled rant.
"It sounds like you have had your fill of dwarves for one day, master burglar..." He smirked and gently pulled the smaller man into his arms and held him, large hands coming up to comb through the overgrown golden red hair. Bilbo's hair was always soft and beautiful to him and he was quite pleased at the fact he hadn't brought up the idea of trimming it.
Soft hands came up and wrapped around his waist, clinging to the dark blue shirt Thorin wore. A soft warm puff of air against his chest came with a small groan.
"I could put up with one more.." Came the muffled reply from where Bilbo had pressed his face into Thorin's chest. He slowly pulled back and looked up at him with tired eyes. "And then there's bloody Dain!.. I haven't even eaten since this morning and, don't laugh, but I'm starving."
Thorin tried to suppress a smile at that, the smallest of their company easily out ate all of them when given the chance. Hobbits seemed to need more food than most other kinds of races and it fascinated him. Bilbo cooked a meal for the both of them almost every night unless they were too exhausted. Mostly recipes from the shire, but some came from the dwarven libraries and always turned out perfect. "Then you should eat, ghivashel.. Go get changed first, you appear exhausted.."
"I am.." Bilbo muttered before gently removing himself from Thorin's arms and walking over to one of the rooms that connected to the main one.
Thorin stood there for a moment listening to Bilbo getting changed before he moved to the small kitchen they had installed the first week they lived together. Bilbo had been cooking most of the meals, and it was about time Thorin cooked something for him now. He's sure he'd appreciate it after a long day. Problem was… Thorin wasn't exactly a great cook.. He flipped through the pages of a cookbook Bilbo had been putting together, settling on a relatively easy recipe for potato soup.
He filled a pot from the cupboards with water from the pump they had running through the mountain. Ice cold.. He frowned as he stoked the fire that was already roaring in the stovetop furnace. A fire was almost always needed in the halls to keep the place warm enough for comfort, let alone boil water.
With the pot on the stove and the fire going he rolled his sleeves up to peel each potato as instructed. He cursed a bit in khuzdul as he took chunks out with the skin of each new potato. How in middle earth did Bilbo do it so easily?!
Small arms came from behind Thorin to wrap their hands around his, slowly guiding his knife across the round surface he was practically mutilating. He smiled and ducked his head, "That painful to watch?"
"You're not being gentle enough.. But it's not bad.." Came Bilbo's voice, who then removed his hands and stood beside Thorin. "I could do that y'know.."
Thorin nodded, smiled, and put the last potato down with the others. "You could, and much better than I.. But you said you were exhausted did you not?" He raised his brow and smirked as he glanced at the hobbit next to him. "I wished to do something for you, but help would.. Be welcomed." He finished with a sigh.
Bilbo grinned and went up on his tiptoes to kiss Thorin's cheek, "Well then, let me show you how to do this!" They spent the rest of their evening together cooking and smiling the entire time.
When they were done the soup wasn't half bad actually. They ate together at their table.