AN: Hey folks! So obviously these lovely characters are not mine. They belong to Mr. J. R. R. Tolkien. I hope you guys like! I'm not good about updates, fair warning, so bug me.

The day dawned clear and bright. Warmth was his first thought on that Tuesday. It was so warm. Gently shifting, burrowing really, he got more comfortable in his bedroll. The small sigh of content was enough to stop the bustle around him. A small smile played each viewer's lips. But there were things to be done. Though it was early still, no one was asleep save him and one other. He remained blissfully unaware of the events around him as dwarves rushed right and left. It had been a while since any pranks had been played, too long for Kíli's taste. He stifled a giggle as he glanced at the small hobbit still curled in a deep sleep. This was going to be good. He was tired of watching the two men dance around one another, they all were. And this prank was the final fan to make sparks burst into flame.

Bilbo stretched and yawned, a small, pleased hum bubbling free as his eyes slowly opened. A reluctance to start the day filled him. It was comfortable. He had found a spot with relatively few rocks and a root to prop his coat on. It was perfect. He rolled over, humming again. No. He must get up. He promised to make breakfast. Blinking once, then twice, he was fully awake. Sun filled his vivid green eyes much too quickly. It had been a marvelous dream...although he couldn't quite recall exactly what it had been about. All the same, despite the angle of the sun, he felt a certain lightness in his heart that told him it was going to be a good day. Then he saw it. Everyone was gone. Save one particular dwarf, one who caused his heart to beat uncomfortably fast as all grogginess promptly left his body. It was Thorin Okenshield. And he was sleeping face to face with Bilbo Baggins.

Everything in him was saying to run. He had to leap up and dart away, quicker than quick, to find the others. Well almost everything. A small part of him, he blamed it on the blasted Took running in his veins, was screaming out. That small part was making his cheeks burn and his stomach twist. It was screaming to reach out and touch the sleeping king's face. It was screaming to touch the stubble there and lean close. It was practically drowning out the sense in him. So rather than act he just lay there, propped on one elbow, and stared at him. He was so peaceful. It warmed him to the core to see the king so serene and calm. He had such weight on his shoulders. It was in his eyes and his stance and his words. Thorin seemed so full of grief. He had reason to be. His world was burned to a crisp then even the ashes were ripped away. A sudden protectiveness that he hadn't felt since the pale orc's attack consumed him. He reached out tentatively. The logic in him was barely a whisper now as he watched his chest rise and fall with gentle rhythm. And then an arm hit his side, drawing him close to the mountain of a man. His breath caught in his throat. All that filled his mind was the heady scent of him, of earth and sweat and the gentle tickle of honey. It was home, that smell.

He didn't know how long they were like that. His hand had made contact with his face long ago. His stubble nearly tickled his newly calloused hands. He was absolutely fascinated by his whole being. Slowly, afraid he'd wake him and the moment would be forever lost, he began to move his thumb across his cheek. His breath hitched as the grip at his waist tightened. He was holding on so tightly. A small laugh, breathy and lacking pitch, tore past his lips, disrupting a stray hair. He quickly smoothed it back from the other's closed eyes. And then Thorin's eyes slowly opened. He started to rip his hand away, as if it'd been burned, but Thorin gently closed his large, calloused fingers around it.

"Good morning, burglar."

"Good morning." he squeaked, swallowing hard.

Those eyes, deeper than any night sky, gazed groggily into his and everything felt right in the world. Nothing could harm them. As if a testament to this, his grip on his middle relaxed. Their eyes were locked. His breath was on his face. There were leaves and he reeked of morning. Yet the king was beautiful, regal as his title. Suddenly he could care less about where the others were. He could care less about anything ever in the world. Thorin was next to him, a smile on his lips and in his eyes. And nothing mattered. But there was a rustle to his left. His eyes darted from Thorin's to the sound, eyes locking with Kíli's. He felt so hot. The tips of his ears were burning. Slowly, he pulled himself away from his oddly cool touch. Thorin's eyes closed as a moan rung from deep in his throat. That sound sent a shiver down his back. The moment was gone. No use in pretending otherwise. He sat up, glaring at Kíli. In the back of his mind he knew that the mischievous heir to Erebor had something to do with this. He knew it like he knew the curves of Thorin's face.

There was Thorin again. The blush rose higher still on his cheeks as he stood, striding quickly to the youngster. He was older than Bilbo, certainly, but nothing about him was mature or sensible. The Baggins in him was rearing it's ugly head as he started quickly stammering out super heated accusations at the smugly smiling dwarf. The smile fell faster and faster the closer he got. Finally some respect out of him. A squeak flew from his lips as a heavy, familiar hand landed squarely on his shoulder. How did he move so swiftly, so wholly undetectably? The dwarf was a wall of power for decency's sake! Unsure what else to do he froze. The hand tightened, indicating he look up. But he was stuck. He stared straight forward, helpless as the others emerged. Fili gave him a sheepish curve of the lips that he was inclined to think was a smile as he hung his head, side by side with his brother. The others popped out at their own pace. One could tell they were equally ashamed and fearing of reprimand but a little better at hiding it. Thorin cleared his throat and this time Bilbo did look up.

There was a smile in his eyes, contrary to the frown deeply set on his lips. The dwarf standing, looming really, above him was so hypnotizing. Everything about him was strong and powerful. He seemed to be hewn from the very mountain he was supposed to be ruling. He felt a pang at that. A few minutes he ago he had looked so tranquil. The weight of the world wasn't on his shoulders anymore. The urge to touch him was back. He shook the thought away as he remembered he was supposed to be angry about all this. He was angry. The heat left his face, replaced with a heat in his heart. Why would they do this?

"You lot have given our burglar quite a fright. And moreover you've disturbed my much needed rest." he says in a sharp tone.

Bilbo crossed his arms, smiling smugly. They were going to get it now. He felt a slight ache form in his stomach against his will. Wasn't Thorin at all pleased to wake by his side? As mortified as he was he was at that moment in time, he had been thrilled to have the grouchy dwarf in such close proximity. His smug smirk was drawn in a thin line. Bofur caught his eye and winked. The bloody twit. He seethed inside.

"I do not understand why you did what you did, nor do I wish too. It was childish. But I will tell you this. Whoever's idea it was had best make sure that he sleeps with one eye open. Our hobbit might strangle you himself when he gets wind of your identity and I won't make any effort to stop him."

Thorin's hand tightens slightly on his shoulder at that. He flinches in spite of himself, suddenly reminded of a bruise he'd all but forgotten about. The touch relaxes as all heads snap up. The words are let to hang in the air, sinking in. He's not wrong at all. Bilbo would very much like to throttle Kíli or whoever it was. Very much indeed. But this was not at all like him. Thorin was a man who was quick to judge...and to punish. Yet none of them had gotten a real reprimand. His heart picked up. Maybe he did enjoy his wake up call. Maybe this was the changing point in their relationship. Maybe, just maybe, he was finally more than a tolerated nuisance or someone he was indebted to. He found a genuine smile filing his face, along with a most unwelcome blush that burned all the way to the tips of his ears.

"We will rest today as planned. Now put camp back in order, lads. And someone get a fire going. No doubt you all are hungry."

An enthusiastic roar of agreement filled the air as he finally found the courage to step out of Thorin's all-encompassing presence. Of course a chuckle rang from the group as they finally saw his flaming cheeks. Mentally cursing every dwarf ever born, he walked off into the wood to help the others. Only when his blush had dimmed did he glance back at him. And only then did he feel relieved. He wasn't even looking at him. His eyes were miles away as he stared into the woods after his kin. Bilbo busied himself with other tasks, not even beginning to guess that the far off look in his king's eyes was his doing. Not even aware that it was desperately searching for a way to get the morning's events to transpire again, but with more contact than the fleeting grasp of his hand. Oh no. Thorin was staring into the distance imaging what it would be like to wake that way every morning.