Author's Note: I'm not entirely happy with this one, but I'm tired of playing with it, so here it is. The second part, whoo hoo. Hoping to write another part of this universe soon, but before I do that I'm going to post the first chapter to a three-chapter renn fair fic and write the other two chapter in between my next to classes (and during them, actually, but whatever). I hope you all are having a lovelier day than I am, because it's icky and grey here and I got no sleep. But who cares, right? Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but a fondness for sleepy Thorin, but then again who doesn't have a fondness for sleepy Thorin?

He was tired, frustrated, and hungry as hell. Traffic was terrible getting home and the airport had been crowded in the early hours of the morning, frantic speech bouncing around the inside of his skull. It was Friday morning and everyone in the damn town seemed to be trying to fly out, even though it wasn't yet noon. All he wanted was his bed, warm and soft, so much better than a hotel bed, even though it would be just as empty…

Bilbo sighed and slumped against the window of the taxi that was currently carrying him home. He'd gotten up at 5 in the morning to get on his flight and everything ached. He hated flying; there was so much fuss and bother, and so early in the morning too. The conferences were worth such lengths, of course, but he missed his family. He missed making dinner and fussing over the boys' homework, but more than anything he missed that grumpy husband of his taking up the other side of the bed at night.

The taxi pulled into his driveway and the driver put the car in park. Bilbo paid the man and quietly pulled his suitcase out of the seat beside him. Maybe the man sensed Bilbo's lack of sleep and need for peace, because he muttered a quiet goodbye and nothing more just before the door close. Then he left with a nod, leaving Bilbo standing in front of his own house in the brisk cold of the February morning. He took in the sight for a moment; the beat up garage door closed and the mailbox flag put down in its proper place. There was a thin layer or ice and snow across his yard, turning their black roofing grey, their windows foggy and their bright green door dim. The bushes needed a trim and there were a few limbs on the old oak tree by the left corner that could be cut down, but for the most part it looked like heaven to Bilbo. He sighed, shoulders sagging, and walked to the front door. He unlocked the front door and shuffled in, kicking the door shut behind him quickly, to shut out the cold. The house was warm and welcoming, with shoes strewn down the hallway carelessly.

"Oh boys," Bilbo muttered quietly, lips quirking up into a fond, exasperated smile. "How is it that you can't seem to put your shoes where they're supposed to go whenever I leave?" Bilbo dropped his suitcase and went about tidying up the front hallway. When that was finished he picked back up his suitcase and wandered further into the house, humming softly as he went. The sight in the kitchen drew him up short, however.

"What in the world," he muttered. There were Chinese take-out containers scattered across the kitchen counters. On the floor, seemingly kicked out of the way, sat Thorin's laptop bag. Bilbo blinked at it for a brief second, utterly confused, because it was definitely Friday morning and Thorin's laptop was supposed to be at work. Bilbo spun around and peeked back at the front hallway, realizing suddenly that he had just put away Kili and Frodo's shoes, the pairs they wear to school. Why were his children's shoes not on their feet at ten in the morning during a school day?

"Thorin?" No one answered, but he realized that the basement door was open as he wandered back into the kitchen. Bilbo dropped his suitcase next to Thorin's laptop bag and moved to stand in the basement doorway. The sight that greeted him as the door swung open was surprising and slightly annoying, but he had to admit, it was more welcoming than the thought of an empty home.

"Thorin," Bilbo said, taking the stairs carefully. His husband was passed out on the ancient couch wearing an old pair of sweatpants and long sleeved shirt, hair tied back in a messy ponytail. There was a game controller on his stomach and only one sock still on his feet. Bilbo's chest felt tight at the sight of him, warmth warring with the exhaustion that lingered from the flight. Bilbo came over to stand over him, taking in the sight of Kili and Frodo piled together on the floor under the afghan that was usually kept across the back of the couch. The television was still on, the volume so low that Bilbo could barely hear it even though he stood only ten feet from the screen.

"Thorin," Bilbo repeated quietly, bending down to lean over his husband. Thorin didn't even stir, though to be fair it was always difficult to wake him up. Bilbo felt his lips pull into a grin and he reached to grab Thorin's broad shoulder, shaking him lightly. The dark haired man groaned lowly, face scrunching up as he grumbled and grouched his protests to being woken. His head dropped to one side, the right side of his face pressing against the couch cushions. "Thorin," Bilbo repeated softly, "wake up."

"No," Thorin murmured, "go away. S'cold and m'tired."

"You're in the basement, you daft man, of course it's cold." Bilbo bent over, dropping a kiss on his husband's cheek. "Why aren't you at work, you nutter?"

"Work nurk," Thorin slurred. Bilbo snorted out a quiet laugh, one that startled Kili into waking. The teenager sat straight up, limbs flailing about, as he squawked in surprise. Bilbo almost felt bad for the teenager, who had wrinkles indented into his cheek from the wadded up shirt he had been using as a pillow, but the sight was too endearing and amusing.

"Good morning, Kili," Bilbo said, trying to scowl at the sleep mused boy. He found he was grinning too much to bother. Kili rubbed at his eyes, not paying attention to Bilbo's expression, which reminded Bilbo of the six year old little boy Kili had been, sleep rumbled, sprawled across their bedroom floor each morning as they woke up, too shy to ask if he could get in his uncles' bed when he had nightmares. Bilbo's chest went tight at the memory of the small, scared little boy Kili had been. He went over and crouched down next to Kili, brushing his hair back from his face. "What in the world are you doing home from school?"

"Frodo had a math test," Kili mumbled. He rubbed at his face with both hands and slumped down, still mostly asleep, until his head was against Bibo's shoulder. "Didn't wan'a go, so uncle let us stay home." There was a long pause, wherein Kili started to fall back asleep against Bilbo before he abruptly jerked up to look at Bilbo. "You're not supposed to be home for days," he exclaimed, confusion like a flush upon his cheeks.

Bilbo shrugged cheerily. "Didn't want to stay," he said, mimicking Kili's excuse. Kili beamed at him sleepily, a sight which made his heart constrict with happiness. "Go to sleep," Bilbo told the teenager quietly, pressing a kiss to his forehead, "and I'll make a late brunch later on."

Kili made a kind of fuzzy huzzah noise as he collapsed back onto the ground. Frodo shifted against his side without waking up and Bilbo pulled the afghan back over both of them. Once Kili was situated Bilbo turned back around to wake Throin, only to find his husband staring at him, face pressed against the couch cushions, mouth quirked up into a sleepy grimace.

"Hello there," Bilbo said, walking back over to stand by the couch. Thorin groaned, slowly shifting so that he was sitting upright. Thorin rubbed at his eyes and face much like Kili had, attempting to run his hands through his hair only to find it bound at the nape of his neck.

"Bilbo," Thorin rumbled quietly, "what…."

Bilbo grinned at his husband's lack of grasp on the world directly after waking. "Having a little stint into anarchy, are we," he asked, coming to stand in front of Thorin. Immediately his husband's arms wrapped around his hips and Thorin leaned forward to bury his face in Bilbo's stomach. Bilbo reached up and unbound his hair, dragging his fingers through the messy locks. "Please tell me you at least put up a little bit of a fight when they asked to skip school," he teased quietly. Thorin shook his head no and Bilbo faked an exasperated sigh.

"Get up," Bilbo said, making a decision. Thorin protested quietly, but Bilbo coaxed him up with a little grin. "Come on, you big lug," he teased, "come upstairs to our bed, which can fit us both more comfortably than this old couch."

Thorin lifted his head from Bilbo's stomach at that. His husband rested his chin against his stomach, looking up at him with an expression Bilbo couldn't pinpoint. He was quiet for a long moment before a smile crept across his face, pulling up the corners of his mouth and bringing a glint of joy to his eyes.

"I'm glad your home," Thorin muttered softly, fingers digging into Bilbo's sides. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," Bilbo replied. "Now come up to bed. Flying is as wretched as it has always been and I'd like a nap before breakfast." He then bent down and pressed another kiss against his husband, this time upon his lips, before turning and leading him back upstairs and to their bed, where he could finally catch some decent sleep knowing that he wouldn't be alone once he woke up.