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“Are you sure this is a good idea? I can turn around now, it's not too late.”
“Thorin,” Bilbo warns, eyeing him from the passenger seat as he sips from his thermos.
Thorin had ten and two in a too-tight grip, hunched over the wheel as if pouting at it would make the car putter out and stop through sheer power of will, and then they wouldn't have to spend Christmas Eve at his… let's say boisterous family’s house.
“They're your family and they’re wonderful, stop acting like you're on your way to the Chair.”
Thorin's mumbled not that far of a stretch, really, was trampled on by Frodo asking around a mouthful of sticky candy cane from the back seat, “Chair? What kind of chair?”
Bilbo turned in his seat and wiped a bit of red dribble from the boy’s chin, tutting under his breath. “It's like the Time-Out Seat in school, only marginally worse”
“What does margarine-aly mean?”
“Marginally, my boy-”
“It means a little bit.” Thorin piped up, the corner of his mouth quirked up just the slightest bit at Bilbo’s huff.
A wet smack of his treat and then, “A little bit of what?”
“Alright, you explain this morbid metaphor to him-”
“Thorin!” The excited shout was loud even inside the car, which had been parked in his mother’s driveway for no more than 20 seconds before a slushy snowball splatted against the windshield, Frerin’s faux-innocent grin peeking through the tracks from the busy windshield wiper blades.
Never one to be out-done by his baby brother in way of dramatics, Thorin dropped his head down onto the steering wheel, sending the horn blaring until Frodo was in a fit of laughter and his mother was shouting at him from the porch to cut out that dreadful noise!
Bilbo had to haul Thorin up by the shoulders to stop the wailing, and he stifled his exasperated amusement in favor of unbuckling Frodo from his booster seat, barely managing to wind a scarf around his neck before he was bolting across the snow, excited little crunch-crunch-crunching as he barreled into Fridda’s waiting arms.
“Oh look at you! Growing like the weed you are, boyo.” Thorin’s mother cooed, ruffling his hair and listening attentively as Frodo showed her his Sixth Ever loose tooth.
Thorin couldn’t have made it into the house without further harassment, of course he couldn’t, and he was only proven right as Frerin sidled up alongside him at the rear of the car, not sparing a breath as Thorin took up stacks of wrapped packages in his arms.
“You finally brought your better half home for Christmas! Well, better two-thirds really. We were all wondering when you’d stop officially hiding him from us, he and the little Cabbage Patch Kid.”
“You could help, you know,” Thorin grunted, shifting the gifts in his arms in favor of replying.
“Oooh no, nope, no way. I’m not gonna be the one to have to tell Fili he won’t have a new GI Joe doll to match his brother’s because Uncle Frerin dropped it in the snow and stepped on it. Not again.”
Thorin just turned and dropped the load into his brother’s arms, ignoring his indignant squawk and jogging up the path to where his mother was holding Bilbo’s elbows as they both laughed genially about something Thorin hadn’t heard. When he reached them his mother released his boyfriend and pulled him down for a kiss with a half-hearted complaint about getting a crick in her neck just to look her son in the face.
“Hey Ma, I missed you too.” He smiled down at her, contemplating commenting on her intriguing specimen of a sweater when, speaking of a crick in the neck, he was tugged down into a headlock by someone much shorter than him.
“Ah, Grumpy the Dwarf is here!” Thorin grunted and shoved his sister away, faking a punch to her stomach and making her flinch and giggle.
“Two for flinching, Mowgli.” Thorin smirked down at Dis’ groan, flicking her twice in the shoulder.
“Ow! You’re abusing me, you ruffian!” Dis wailed, fluttering a hand to her forehead and calling out into the house, “Boys! Your Uncle is beating up Momma!” Dis, Thorin, and Bilbo all listened for a response, but when all they heard were three distinct seven year old voices chattering about the Star Wars ornaments on their tree that Uncle Dwalin had brought them, Dis sighed. “Children. What are they for if not to protect their mother’s honor?”
Thorin smirked and pulled her into a hug, rolling his eyes when she did the same to Bilbo once they parted.
“Come on, Dad’s in the kitchen with Balin and Bombur, and I think Dori has taken up permanent residence at the kettle.” Dis lead the way into the house, the warmth and rich smells of food baking washed over them as quickly and completely as the comfortable chatter of a home full of family, making it feel more like Christmas than any of the tinsel on the walls did. The clatter of the screen door behind them marked Frerin bringing up the rear, and Thorin smiled to himself at his brother’s grumbling. True to Dis’ word Thrain was in the kitchen debating which beer to marinade the meat in with Balin, while Bombur happily stirred an absolutely sinful-smelling pot on the stove and Dori fussed about the teapot in what seemed to be his default setting.
Bilbo smiled up at him and gave his shoulder a squeeze before heading through to the living room to greet Bofur and Bifur, where they were knee-deep in a game of not-quite-chess. Or rather, to be crushed into a joyous bear hug and spun around the room while Bifur switched the pieces around.
Thorin checked in with his dad and watched Bilbo across the room with a fond smile, one which might even be called wistful if you twisted his arm. (But only if you twisted it really hard).
“My my, I haven’t seen you look at someone like that since Rodney Dulecki in seventh grade.” A rough, tattooed paw of a hand clapped down on his shoulder and Thorin nudged Dwalin in the ribs.
“In my defense, PE locker rooms are a gift from god and Rodney Dulecki was on the swim team.” Thorin didn’t take his eyes off Bilbo, now conversing patiently with shy-as-an-oyster Ori about whatever new book he’d had his nose buried in all evening while his cousins played.
Dwalin, however, turned his gaze to Thorin. “You don’t look at him like you want to rip his speedo off with your teeth, though. You look at him like, like-”
“Did somebody say speedo and teeth? Because I do believe my afternoon just opened up.”
Whatever Dwalin was attempting to muster up from the rusted and derelict romance-center of his brain was cut off by the ever-notable entrance of Nori, who’d sidled up next to Dwalin and was leaning against his broad chest like it was a grimy liquor store wall and he was popping gum and giving the finger to a ‘no loitering’ sign. Essentially, like he owned the place.
“Right, I thought it was strange that you’d suddenly reached out and grabbed my arse, Thorin. Good evening to you too, Nori.”
Which, if by ‘place’ you meant Dwalin and his big gooey tough-guy heart, well, you wouldn’t be too far off.
Thorin rolled his eyes as Dwalin tightened his arms around Nori and trapped him, giving him a big sloppy kiss on the cheek with a loud smack that sent Nori spluttering and shoving him away. Tough guy indeed. Nori always was quite the exhibitionist, but only when the ball was in his court. And obnoxiously loud smooches that earned a gaggle of ‘eww!’s from the kids as they chased each other through the room weren’t really Nori’s mode of operations.
“Right then, I’ll leave you two to fornicating in front of my entire extended family in peace then, shall I,” Thorin deadpanned, starting off towards his favorite mop of honey-brown curls. He stopped dead in his tracks when he had suddenly grown two nephew-sized tumors, one wrapped around each foot.
“Lift us up Uncle Thorin!”
“Yeah, we’re your new boots!”
“Not boots, Kee, slippers! Because we’re in the house and grandma says no boots on in the house.”
“Oh yeah! We’re your new slippers Uncle-!” Thorin’s name stretched into a shriek as the room was quite suddenly plunged into darkness, not a single pinprick in the unexpected blackness. Fili and Kili were wailing as they climbed up his legs like they were startled kittens, making Thorin wince and stumble against a cabinet.
“I just plugged in the blender, I needed to do the cranberries! Dottie down the way says they’re sweeter when you blend them up real fine and I said y’know I’m gonna try that-”
“Dad I told you the backup generator was a good investment, didn’t I tell him Ma? Now we can’t use the blender on Christmas, this is a calamity.”
“Calamity? Oh speakin’ of, I remember the Great Egg Spoiling of Easter, spring of ‘92. Or was it ‘93..?”
“Dori what’s happened! I can’t see my book Dori, I’m on the last chapter I have to finish it-!”
“What’s that Bif? I can’t see a wink, sign louder would you!”
“Frodo? Frodo where are you? Frodo! Everyone everyone, please!” Bilbo’s voice rang out above the clamor, the petering silence trailing off into the sniffling cry of one scared little boy.
“Un-Uncle Bilbooo,” He whined, separated from the others in a house he wasn’t familiar with.
“Here here- I’ve got you, it’s okay squirt.” It was Nori, voice fluctuating as he bent and lifted Frodo into his arms. Bilbo made his way loudly across the room to him, banging his knee into every coffee table and sofa in the room it seemed, when Bombur’s round face popped through the kitchen doorway, cast in haunted shadows by a flashlight held tight under his chin.
“Nobody panic! The heat is still on so we won’t freeze and the food can keep cooking!” Several groans rose up at that, no doubt at Bombur’s priorities list, and Bilbo made it to Nori and took Frodo into his arms just as Balin walked in bearing lit candles. With the darkness thinned a little, Thorin made his way over to Bilbo, his two startled leg growths thankfully having been scooped up by their mother.
“You okay?” He placed a grounding hand on the back of Bilbo’s neck, thumb rubbing circles into the soft hair there. Bilbo leaned into the touch and held Frodo tighter, nodding up at him with a smile.
“There now lad, not afraid of a little night-time getting in now are we?” He asked the still sniffling bundle in his arms.
Frodo just shook his head hard, taking in a stuttering breath before asking in a sorrowful whine, “Will Santa st-still be able to come if he can’t s-see the house?” His little face crumpled as his voice pitched higher and wavered even more. “How will we g-get our pr-presents if all the l-lights are off and he can’t see the ho-use?” The last word warbled into a small sob and he buried his face into Bilbo’s shoulder, who looked up at Thorin with panic in his eyes, fumbling for anything to reassure him that Santa wasn’t going to skip over them.
It only got worse as Fili and Kili overheard Frodo’s whimpering and started to worry their own little heads over it, turning twin wobbly chins on their poor helpless mother, who’s panicked gaze matched Bilbo’s to a tee.
Relief came from Dwalin, of all people, when he spoke up gruffly, “Santa’s not skippin’ anyone tonight. I’m going to go reset the breaker and then everything will flick back on, right as rain.” He stomped out the back door, tugging his jacket tighter against his chest and the cold, but not before Nori could pipe up and trot out after him.
“I’ll come too, wouldn’t want you slipping and falling all alone in the cold now would we?” Innocent words with an intonation that’s anything but, that is Nori’s M.O.
“If you think I’m gonna do hand stuff with you when it’s Hell’s-frozen-over degrees outside, you can just turn around right now…” He trailed off as the pair of them went out the door hand in hand, and despite his gruffness his lips were pulled in a smirk.
Time to thoroughly wipe that image from my brain, Thorin thought, shaking his head roughly and reaching out to smooth a hand over Frodo’s mussed up curls.
“I’ll make some hot cocoa, shall I?” Balin offered with a sweet, squinty smile, rubbing his hands together as he wandered back into the kitchen beckoning Bombur for his flashlight.
As soon as he exited the room Dori entered it, having gone to fetch his stash of extra blankets and scraps of knitted things that he started passing around to the children with stern words of staving off the cold. Thorin found himself on the loveseat with Bilbo, sides pressed together and his arm around his shoulders, Frodo having gone to huddle up with Fili and Kili and Ori under the largest of the blankets on the couch opposite them.
Amongst the chatter and general grousing about why Dwalin and Nori hadn’t fixed the problem, and what could they possibly be doing out there, Frodo’s voice snuck under the din of the room, quiet and hesitant, but at least he wasn’t sniffling anymore.
“Uncle Bilbo? Can you tell us a story?”
Little ears perked up on either side of him as Fili and Kili hopped on board. “Oh Uncle Bilbo tell us a story!”
“Tell us a story about pirates!”
“With dragons! And cowboys!”
“And cowboy pirates!”
“Kee why would cowboys wanna be pirates?”
“Alright, alright! I’m sure I can muster up a little something, let me think…” Bilbo dropped his head back onto Thorin’s arm as he tapped his chin theatrically in thought, and Thorin had to bite his lip to stop the lovesick noise that threatened to escape him at the sight. Before he kept the boys in suspense for too long, Bilbo sat up and clapped his hands together. “Ah ha! Have you boys ever heard the tale about the group of adventurers who got lost in an enchanted forest?” Three pairs of eyes the size of dinner platters were glued to him as they all shook their heads slowly, already in awe of the adventure unfolding right there in their living room.
As Bilbo went on they laughed, they gasped, they raised invisible swords in a battle cry, and they jumped in fright when the wicked Elven King’s men sprang up around the heroes and captured them in his dungeons. At the King’s line Bilbo nudged Thorin, and heaven help him if he didn’t love this man, doing impersonations of Elves at a mere flash and flutter of his eyes. He gave the Elf King and ridiculous voice, of course, high and shrill and pompous, and it nearly sent the boys rolling on the floor in their fit of hysterics.
Soon Thorin found himself laughing along, doing different silly voices before Bilbo even had to ask, and for what felt like hours he was just there with Bilbo, cuddled up and warm on his mother’s awful taupe sofa in the dark and adventuring through unknown lands in unknown worlds, all at once.
And when the lights finally flickered back to life, to many a shout and cheer from his closest friends and family, Thorin didn’t notice. The light in his life had been switched on a long time ago, he realized with a calm and peaceful clarity, and no dark thing in the world could keep it from blissfully blinding him.