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Of all of the many halls, shops, parks, and buildings in Erebor, Bilbo Baggins' favorite place was the library of the City Central. A massive room lined with countless bookshelves, walkways connecting the different levels and reading nooks, stuffed with books and scrolls from all across Middle Earth, the library was considered the center of the world of scholars in Erebor. No matter the time of day, Dwarves could be found leaning over delicate old scrolls or scribing into leather-bound notebooks.
Bilbo could be found in the library at almost any time of day as well, save the important times of breakfast, elevenses, lunch, second lunch, tea, supper, and dinner -- though sometimes he allowed himself to miss tea and second lunch, if it meant getting to read that extra chapter or if a meeting of his book lovers' club ran over. Sometimes he had to be pried out of his favorite corner, which had a window that looked over the courtyard outside, late at night, usually by one of his friends, sometimes even by Thorin himself. He could spend hours at a time enjoying the books of Erebor's library.
Today, he had spent barely a single hour in the library. It was very late already, and he was quite tired, but he had promised himself to study more on his role before the next big ceremony. He had nearly fumbled the last one; Balin's scolding had been kindly-sounding, but it had shamed Bilbo nonetheless. He wanted to do right by Thorin and Erebor, and he knew of a book that had the information he needed.
Today, though, he had been waylaid by several incidents that had kept him from entering the library until well after dinner.
His morning had begun as any other morning, waking slowly in the soft warmth of his bed. His lover had already left, though, but Bilbo had lingered beneath the covers, a somewhat goofy expression on his face as he thought about his beloved. Then the door had opened, and Bilbo looked up with a smile -- only to see Thorin's troublesome nephews, matching leering grins on their faces.
"Bilbo!" Kíli had cried, ripping the covers off Bilbo with a flourish, causing a blush and a mortified look, while Fíli went to the closet to pull out what was probably the worst outfit anyone could have put together from Bilbo's many clothes. "They've spotted a great migration of animals in the forest -- and we're going hunting! Someone said they saw elk! Imagine what that old Thranduil would have to say if we rode elk into his next party --"
All of the sputtering and protesting in the world had not stopped the rambunctious brothers. So, (after pushing them out of the room and managing to find an appropriate outfit to change into) Bilbo had been dragged out of Erebor (with barely enough breakfast to feed a Hobbit properly!) into the forest for a hunting expedition, with Fíli and Kíli leading the way. It had been miserable. There had been rain the day before, so much of the ground was slick and muddy, and Bilbo had slipped several times, ruining his waistcoat and getting his toes caked in mud. Over four hours of "hunting," trapped in that dismal forest that still had massive spiders, patches of complete darkness, and the terrifying howls of creatures Bilbo believed would be better left alone.
Fíli and Kíli would have made it an all-day expedition, had Bilbo not begun to complain quite loudly of the aches in his shins and the condition of his waistcoat. Finally, with rolled eyes and long sighs, they let Bilbo go back home, cheerfully escorted by his good friend Bofur.
"Almost as good as that time with the handkerchief," Bofur had said, making Bilbo roll his eyes.
"I'll be sure to lecture them later," he had replied, stomping off to the baths and leaving Bofur snickering in mock-horror.
After spending quite some time washing off the mud from his feet, as well as searching for a new waistcoat, Bilbo had found his way to the palace kitchens to procure some sort of lunch. The stew that the cooks had provided (along with buttery rolls, roasted tomatoes, fried ham, and a rare but delicious spring salad) was more than enough to fill his hunger from missing two of his morning meals.
He had just barely finished his last bite of ham when his friends Nori and Ori sat down on either side of him and began to talk -- at the same time.
"Bilbo! We were wondering if you could help us, see, it's Dori's birthday tomorrow and we wanted to do something a little special for him, and you have all those lovely recipes from the Shire, so perhaps you could teach us a few things or at least point us in the direction of the proper ingredients --"
"Bilbo my lad! Won't you come with me and Ori? We've got to find something special for our brother, he's turning a grand age this year and you're so good at talking the shop keepers into letting you see their special wares --"
And so Bilbo had been dragged off on a shopping expedition, to trudge alongside Nori and Ori through the market, as they hunted for the perfect gifts for their older brother. Bilbo had been warmed by their sweetness, but he thought longingly of the library the entire time. Still, the venture had been successful -- only it had taken almost three hours, because both Nori and Ori were very, very picky when it came to their brother.
(The custom of buying or making presents for someone on their birthday was an odd one to Bilbo, who had long been part of the Hobbit tradition of giving away presents to one's friends and family on one's birthday. Both he and the Dwarves had been very surprised by one another, that first year of living in Erebor, when Bilbo's birthday had come around and everyone had been given presents -- with Bilbo receiving the most.)
At least he had found some very nice buttons for his next waistcoat, and a lovely tea pot to keep in his room, since the one he had kept in the living area had been given a new residence of Thorin's office. Rude, Bilbo thought absently, though there was a smile on his face.
The hours of shopping, though tiring, had not been the worst of it. (Not even traipsing through a muddy forest with Fíli and Kíli had been the worst of it.)
No, the worst part of his day had followed immediately after he had arrived home, just in time for tea. Instead of tea, though, he had found Dwalin and Balin, looking entirely too innocent for two Dwarves whose activities regularly found Bilbo with an aching head -- either from blunt trauma or too many long lectures about rules, history, or whatever other topic that Balin decided Bilbo needed to know.
Balin and Dwalin had decided upon a joint lesson for him: the history of hand-to-hand combat, with demonstrations.
Poor Bilbo had little chance to escape -- Dwalin had covered the exits while Balin had smoothly talked him into joining them for "just a little lesson" down in the training halls. No tea for Bilbo; instead, despite his rather epic protests about how sore his feet were (and receiving a rather smart comment from Balin about how Hobbits' feet just do not become sore, nice try, laddie), he had been dragged down five floors of the palace for a training expedition.
Sadly for Bilbo, he had not been part of the spectators -- no, Dwalin wanted to use him as part of the demonstrations, despite the dozens of much hardier and better-trained Dwarves that came to watch. Just his luck, of course.
Many sweaty, tiring, exhausting hours had passed. They had paused for dinner, which had been brought to them in the hall, and Balin had lectured eighty Dwarves and one Hobbit on why it was a good idea to spar at least once a week to keep one's skills active. Multiple times, Bilbo had tried to sneak out, but Dwalin would catch him and haul him back for another lecture.
Only after he had been thoroughly humiliated had Bilbo been allowed to leave. (Though he had gotten Dwalin back by surprising him with a few rather inventive drops -- one should never underestimate a Hobbit's stealth!) Still, Bilbo had managed to limp back home, to take a bath to clean off all the sweat from his workout, and only then had he realized the time.
It was almost too late to visit the library, but his husband had not returned home, so Bilbo had hurried off to search for that book, finding it shortly after entering the library and retreating to his favorite nook to read.
Now, he sat with his back to the wall and the book propped up on his knees, though he was so very tired from his rather full day of running about Erebor. Blinking at the words on the page, Bilbo sighed and rubbed at his eyes. Tomorrow -- he would definitely refuse to leave his home, no matter who begged and pleaded for his help. He still had quite a pile of books to read, and it had been forever since he had given himself a day... and after today, he deserved it, he thought!
The book lying open on his knees was a long read, though, and though the library was open at all hours, Bilbo had wanted to return home and see his husband, as he had not seen him all day. Yet this was important, too, to the people of Erebor and to the council members and advisors, so Bilbo forced himself to read, despite the dry text and long-winded pages of details that did not seem necessary.
Soon his eyelids grew heavy, but Bilbo soldiered on, fighting his exhaustion, until finally, he was dozing softly, the book lying askew in his lap.
It seemed ages later that a familiar voice murmured, "Silly Halfling," and warm hands pulled him up from his nice, comfortable chair. Bilbo opened his eyes but did not think much about it, only smiled and pressed closer to his husband, who had come to fetch him. He was led through the halls of the palace to their home, and Bilbo did not protest, so close to sleep that he barely realized where they were going, until he was gently pushed onto a soft bed that smelled like home.
Someone leaned over him, and Bilbo smiled as thick braids brushed his cheeks. He tilted his head up and met his husband's kiss.
After a long, blissful moment, Thorin Oakenshield pulled away and smiled down at Bilbo, his dark eyes twinkling. Bilbo gave him a sleepy smile and reached up, gripping his shirt and pulling him down again, and Thorin obeyed, leaning in for another slow kiss. The warmth of his husband and the softness of his lips made Bilbo's toes curl, and he thought, well, I'm awake enough for this, but then Thorin was pulling away and nudging Bilbo up on the bed, giving him an amused look.
"Rest, my heart," Thorin said, and Bilbo blinked at him, but Thorin only stood and left the room. Bilbo pouted a bit, but Thorin did not return for a minute, so Bilbo's eyes drifted closed, and he dozed for a few minutes, curling into the soft pillows of their large and comfortable bed, the thick blue and gold curtains mostly closed. Thus he did not notice when Thorin returned, until his feet were settled into a warm lap, and he felt a soft tickling sensation on his shins.
"Mm?" he murmured, and Thorin chuckled but did not stop his ministrations. He had a small, thickly wired comb in one hand, and he was carefully brushing through the light brown curls on Bilbo's shins and feet. It felt rather good, so Bilbo let himself relax, watching Thorin through half-lidded eyes as his husband pampered him, giggling every now and then as Thorin's thick fingers brushed sensitive spots around his knees.
"I heard you had a busy day," Thorin said quietly, and Bilbo hummed in response.
"I'm going to tell Dwalin that your nephews haven't kept up with their training," he said dreamily, smirking a bit at the thought of getting back at three of his tormentors of the day. Thorin snorted and ran his fingers through the curls of Bilbo's shins, then gripped the bottoms of his feet lightly, blue eyes sparkling in the low light.
"If you do that, I'll hear no end of complaining from all three," Thorin said, but he did not seem too unhappy at the thought. Bilbo grinned at him, wiggling his toes and giggling when Thorin grabbed them.
A bit more awake now, he sat up and took the small pile of clothes Thorin had laid out for him, tossing his dirty clothes onto the nearby chair. Thorin moved over to his side of the bed while Bilbo changed, reclining against the pillows, and Bilbo curled up at his side, tucking his feet under Thorin's knee.
"How was your day?" he asked, disappointed that he had not seen Thorin at all today, but glad for his presence now.
Thorin considered the question, his arm settling comfortably around Bilbo's shoulders. He had removed his leathers and boots, and he was clad in only his sleeping clothes, his hair free of most of his braids, except the one that Bilbo had braided himself not too long ago. Bilbo reached up to touch that braid, stroking its dark length, and Thorin's gaze softened. "Long, filled with meetings and work, but tomorrow I have much of the afternoon and evening free," he said, and Bilbo brightened. "Would you like to spend that time with me, my heart?" Thorin asked, blue eyes twinkling.
There was only one reply to that. "Every moment, my soul," Bilbo said, reaching up to stroke the rounded edge of Thorin's ear, noticing the faint shiver as he touched the sensitive spot, glad that even after years he still knew Thorin's body that well.
"I love you," Thorin said simply, and he leaned down to kiss Bilbo again, leaving Bilbo happy and warm, for all that his day had been terrible and exhausting. Any time spent with Thorin made him happy, no matter his mood or the situation.
"Love you too," he murmured against Thorin's lips, feeling his smile and knowing, as he felt every day, that he had made the right decision all those years ago, to follow Thorin Oakenshield on a journey that had changed his life.