Bilbo woke up with a groan. Whatever he'd been sleeping on was strangely comfortable, but it did not feel like a bed. He stared around the room, wondering where he was. It took a moment for his brain to respond.
He was in Laketown. That was all good (he did not want to go back to Mirkwood, thank you very much), but being on top of Thorin was not.
His movements must have awoken Thorin, who stared at him for a moment. "Bilbo?"
"Thorin?" He tried to think of the night before. There had been elven wine available, but Thorin had refused, saying that after staying in a barrel that smelled of it he never wanted to smell it again. They'd gotten the beer of men and drank it, and a lot of it. Even Bilbo had drank a good deal of it.
And then... Well, Bilbo couldn't remember all of it, but they'd gotten married. Not only that, but if the pain in his ass was any indication, they'd had the worst sex he'd ever had in his life.
"Was last night just a terrible dream?" Bilbo asked. Maybe he'd rolled over in bed.
No, that wasn't possible. For one thing, Thorin was clutching him like a teddy bear. For another, Bilbo's room was across the hall. He hadn't slept walked since he was a child.
"No," Thorin whispered. "I apologize. I should have waited for a better time before discussing such an important matter. But the alcohol was in my head, and wooing you would have been such a complicated process... But if you'd like, I can continue my plans."
"What? Can't we just divorce?"
"Divorce? Bilbo, I think you might still be drunk."
Author's Note: The ending is based around the headcanon that divorce is a taboo for dwarves.
