Twenty-Six Too Little

Summary: Twenty-Six days is far too little to spend in your company. Twenty-six days of prompts for the Bagginshield Alphabet month on Tumblr.

A/N: Because I have recently become Bagginshield trash so, of course, when logged onto tumblr this morning to find that I had completely and foolishly forgotten that it was the wonderful month of Bagginshield already I immediately poured over each prompt to try and whip something up. So here we are. I've never actually written these characters before either, so this should prove to be very interesting.

I hope you enjoy.

A – Adventure.

Summary: Conquering lands, crushing goblins, slaying dragons – it wasn't every day you went on an adventure.

The provisions were all packed. Their route was carefully and meticulously planned; they had spent all night sat before the fireplace pouring over maps of paths well-trodden to clearly mark and manage the direction of their journey. As it was, rolled-up parchments of the land and its boundaries poked from the top of one of the bags on the table. The packs were fit to bursting, but Bilbo shuffled the contents around for a moment and managed to make just a little more space for a tub of his most famous oatcakes. He managed to secure the flap of the bag over the top with some difficulty and began to look over the other to make sure all was in order. It was to be a big day – or so he was told – and he wouldn't want to spoil it with shoddy planning. His organisation was the best in the Shire, after all! No, that would be Thorin's job after all.

Bilbo glanced over his shoulder. The dwarf in question was leant up against the edge of the counter, barely even dressed for such a day and still munching on bits of leftover breakfast like he had all the time in the world to kill. 'Damned dwarves and their lack of urgency,' Bilbo thought to himself. Did his slightly grumpier half want to get himself in trouble if he wasn't on the doorstep and ready to go by the exact hour of their estimated departure?

Although, he had to admit, there was something about that early-morning look of laziness that made his heart flip like nothing ever had before; that made his throat feel dry and his palms clammy. He was just so… casual and… He had to stop himself from striding straight over there and running his fingers through that dark mane of his, whispering sweetly into his ear and kissing him until all thoughts of sleep had left him and they were left with only each other… Just each other…

"You're staring."

The deep rumble of his voice brought Bilbo out of his reverie and he blinked, finding his eyes locked with the icy-blue of Thorin's. He swallowed.

"I was just wondering when you were actually going to get a move on or do you just plan on eating my seedcakes all day?"

Thorin looked down dumbly at the food in his hand as if he had no idea where it had come from.

"And–And, actually," Bilbo walked briskly over and took the tray of cakes beside him; "those were meant for today!" He pottered about the kitchen, trying to find some sort of tin to store them in. "For goodness' sake, Thorin! You'd better get dressed, else you'll be in pretty hot water and I'm not going to be the one to pull you out! You promised you'd go!"

Thorin let out a heavy sigh that made Bilbo send him one dangerous look – an empty threat, of course, that made the dwarf chuckle to himself.

"You're harsh to your dwarf, Master Baggins."

The hobbit laughed in response, but otherwise said nothing as he stuffed the last of the food into one of the packs on the table before moving on to the task of filling up their water-skins which hung empty off the side of the counter. And, of course, it was in that moment that his back was turned that Thorin snuck up from behind him and pulled him in for a tight, warming embrace.

"Trying to waste time?" Bilbo asked, amused and he chuckled when he received a low hum in reply that clearly meant 'yes'. "Enough, enough, now come on!" the hobbit supressed his laughter and managed to wriggle himself out of Thorin's grasp, slapping him playfully on the chest. "It's not every day you go on an adventure." Bilbo said and there was a deliberate edge to his voice. It was teasing and full of jest and it made Thorin want to burst into laughter. His hobbit was cheeky and he loved it, but instead he feigned a weary sigh.

"My Bilbo, every day in your company is an adventure."

"Cheesy."

"But true." Was the response and he stepped back in again, yet closer – so, so much closer until they were face-to-face, their breath mingling and suddenly all joking and mischief left them. Thorin's arms wound themselves around the hobbit's middle, bringing him in against his chest. Tiny hobbit hands braced themselves against his gloriously chiselled front, one resting above his heart and staying there to feel the steady, comforting beat inside.

"Thorin," Bilbo breathed as they inched ever-closer. His eyes dropped for just a second to his lips and the sudden tension in the air was far too much for either to resist. With a whisper of "Mr Baggins" the gap between them was closed and their lips met in a kiss so tender and loving that the hobbit feared his knees would give out beneath him. He wound his fingers through dark, wiry tresses flecked with silver and pulled the taller dwarf down to reach his level where he deepened their kiss, opening his mouth and allowing their tongues to intertwine.

It was sweeter than wine and more satisfying than anything either of them had ever known and to think it had taken their very own adventure there and back again – complete with goblins and dragons and death-defying deeds in battle – to get them there was a marvel.

They parted breathless and reluctant, lips rosy red and eyes glazed over with desire.

"Thorin, I… You need to… I– Um…"

A smile split across his face as he watched his lover stammer, stuttering trying to stitch together his scrambled thoughts.

Bilbo tried desperately to form a sentence. "You'll leave him waiting…"

"Just five more minutes, Bilbo," Thorin whispered, leaning in and placing gentle, tiny kisses on the hobbit's cheek.

"No, Thorin, you – ah…"

It was useless. Bilbo could never resist. He could never resist the longing that he felt when faced with the warmth of Thorin's body; he could never fight against the hot kisses against his neck or the breath against his lips and it wasn't long before he just had to say "To hell with it all!" and give in and sink deeper into the arms of his dwarf. His dwarf. No one else's. Simply and purely his Thorin. And it was so blissful that they felt as though they had all the time in the world until –

"Uncle Bilbo!"

The little voice rang out from down the hall and all of a sudden they heard the footfalls echo on the walls. Little hobbit-feet were fast approaching and the pair separated themselves as quick as lightening; Bilbo practically throwing himself over to the side of the table where he appeared to look busy with the assortment of items laid out in front of him. And it was just in time, for, at that moment, the boy appeared in the doorway – all apple-cheeks and dark curls. Little Frodo, as it happened, seemed none the wiser to his parents' antics and his eyes fell upon his honorary Papa, lighting up like little blue gems and twinkling like the stars.

"Papa Thorin!"

Frodo's little feet pattered across the kitchen tiles as he ran at a sprint towards the dwarf, barrelling into his stomach and wrapping his arms round his legs. "Papa Thorin! Are you ready for our adventure! Remember, I told you? Last night? I told you I wanted to go and see the Wild! I wanna go on an adventure with you like Uncle Bilbo did! Papa Thorin, are you ready? You're not even ready!"

Chuckling at the boy and his endless stream of chatter, Thorin ruffled the boy's curly hair and straightened up to tower over him. If he had been irritated with the boys interruption he did not show it. As it was, the genuine childish glee in the little one's eyes was enough to reduce the mighty King under the Mountain into a mushy, warm, gentle soul. Thorin Oakenshield – a battle hardened warrior – was utterly smitten. And everybody knew it.

"My apologies, little Master," he said softly; "I shall return prepared for our day's adventure! You help your Uncle Bilbo with your things and I'll meet you at the door."

"Aye, Papa Thorin!" Frodo nodded, using that funny little expression he'd learnt from one of the dwarves last time they'd visited from Erebor. Bilbo thought it was probably Bofur – he was always good with Frodo and the boy seemed to like him more than most, but it didn't matter. He managed to get the lad to lend a hand as he finished up their preparations for the day and got him to help carry everything to the door, ready to go when they were. And so Bilbo stood later that morning leant up against the round doorframe of Bag End and watched the tall, yet stocky figure of Thorin Oakenshield and the little body of his nephew make off under the early sun, disappearing off down the path of The Hill. He smiled at the sight and at Frodo with his little walking stick in hand. They were only going as far as Bywater! But it made him grin and Bilbo thought of his first adventure – the quest that had started it all, that had left him the person he was today and with the dwarf he would stay beside for as long as he lived. It was a warming sight and he waved them off with a smile on his face.