"Is it ready yet?" Smaug's hot breath tickled the tips of Bilbo's pointed ears, making his shoulders tense, and soon the dragon's heavy hands were on him. "it smells divine... when do we eat, thiefling? I hunger for these "sausages" you've promised me."

"When aren't you hungry." Bilbo grinned, rolling his eyes. "It'll be ready soon, you, so go on."

"Come now." Smaug murmured, his deep voice a rumbling growl reminiscent of their conversation under the mountain. "Let's have a taste. Just one,"

"No." Bilbo said resolutely, waving his hand as if it would clear the dragon away. "No tasting until it's ready, otherwise it'll be all gone by the time we eat." He glanced back at the dragon-man, expecting some protest, but the towering form was already retreating to the main room with a sway of his hips that should have been in his tail. Bilbo couldn't believe how easy it had been; he stared at Smaug as he settled in his blankets, chuffing softly as he kicked a log onto the fire, and then noticed Bilbo's stare.

The dragon didn't acknowledge him, though he had seen the hobbit watching, and Smaug took the time of rolling and settling so that the brief patches of scales across his human skin caught the firelight and flashed like coins. He liked the awe in the little thief's gaze and, having settled himself in his soft new nest, the dragon in man form let out a tendril of soft smoke. He let Bilbo stare for a few more minutes until his nose picked up the cooking of the meat, and he perked up at the scent.

"Though your attentions please me, thiefling, you burn my feast of this "sausage" and I am hungry." Smaug declared, slipping to his feet nimbly and took a seat at the table. He watched the red slip across Bilbo's face as the hobbit returned his attention to the food and worked to dish it before it could be overcooked, smirking wickedly at his host's distress, and soon they were both digging into the sausage and tomatoes Bilbo had promised. The hobbit had even managed to coerce his guest to eat some potatoes as well; in a man's body, he'd need a man's nutrition.

Smaug held a piece up to the light. "These sausages are like tiny fingers..." He devoured his plate quickly, unashamed of rushing it, and gave poor Bilbo his full attention again. "I approve of these sausages, but I much prefer the bacon."

Bilbo choked on a mouthful of wine, wiping his mouth, and he tried to hide the smile that Smaug's miffed statement gave him. He drowned the show of teeth in his cup, hoping the dragon hadn't seen, and quickly drained the whole thing to summon some courage.

"Bacon..." He mumbled, refilling his glass. "is breakfast food, I told you. And please don't compare sausage to fingers; I'm eating."

"And?" Smaug peered into Bilbo's empty cup curiously. "Is that good? You seem to consume it quite readily..."

"Well, it's-" Before the hobbit could stop his houseguest, the dragon had seized the tiny glass and, sticking his tongue to the bottom, tasted the remnants of Bilbo's wine without caution.

"UGH!" Dropping the tiny wine glass, Smaug's face contorted miserably and Bilbo choked on his food as the dragon began simmering short flames of fire across his soft pink tongue to try and cleanse away the alcohol, only succeeding in lighting the tip and pulling a disgusted wail from the depths of his throat.

Jumping up, Bilbo panicked and tried to think of something smart to do, but everything that came to mind wouldn't work. Stumped and desperate, the hobbit skewered a sausage and tomato slice roughly and shoved it into the hissing dragon-man's mouth without pause. He ducked a slender lick of flame, feeling the heat singe his fingertips, and hid under the table with a squeak as his houseguest pulled himself together and choked briefly on the food.

All went silent and Bilbo, covering his head under the table, waited with baited breath for a sign.

"That was vile." Smaug's flushed face appeared in front of him, too close, and Bilbo's skin crawled after the shocking sight of Smaug so enraged. "What possesses you to drink that filth, thiefling?"

"It's not that bad." Bilbo managed, his mouth dry and seriously considering more wine. "Don't be a drama queen." He crawled out from under his table, standing up, and smoothed the front of his shirt down to regain his composure.

"'Drama queen'?" The dragon looked miffed. "That monstrosity should never pass the lips of any man or wyrm, no matter the circumstance. I demand you dispose of this... what is it?"

"Blackberry wine." Bilbo explained, holding up the bottle and dragging a finger beneath the label. "A gift from my cousins in what was surprisingly good taste. I quite like this bottle; it's a good year." To prove his point, Bilbo took another glass down for the shelf to replace the one his guest had smashed and he poured himself another. "I intend to drink it."

"You're bluffing." Smaug said seriously. "You wouldn't consume such a large amount of 'wine'." Bilbo felt his face get hot at the dragon's seriousness and, scowling, the hobbit pressed the bottle to his lips instead of the glass and took a deep, long drink.

He hiccupped once, meeting Smaug's eyes with a dose of liquid courage. "You sure about that?"

"Oh…" Bilbo grimaced as the fire flickered and, even through his closed eyelids, made his spinning head do another twirl.

"I change my mind, thiefling." Smaug said cheekily, folding his hands on the arm of the chair and resting his chin on top of them contentedly, his bottom half covered by a fire-warmed blanket. "you shouldn't consume such a large amount of wine. It is obviously unpleasant." His deep, thrumming voice echoed in Bilbo's wine-addled skull and, without meaning to, drew a small whimper out of his host, who cringed and clutched his curls wordlessly. "Thiefling?"

"Shhh…" Bilbo managed to make some noise, stretching a hand toward the dragon and clumsily bumping into his cheek. He glanced up from his fetal position, feeling a chill at moving from his warm ball, and blinked tearily at the blurry image of his houseguest. "Smaug, my head…" Smaug stared back at him wordlessly, his bright gold eyes shining like lamps in the delirious hobbit's mind, and Bilbo's lips curled slightly at the edges into a small, endearing smile. "thank you." He shivered again, unable to settle back into the hollow of his own warmth, and Bilbo frowned sleepily to himself as he tried to curl up on the seat of his armchair and drift off.

Bilbo whimpered as another shiver rolled across him, but this time a rich, velvety rumble echoed his frail sound. "…mm?" A warm hand cupped Bilbo's face and, even with the possibility of danger, the hobbit couldn't summon the strength to do more than half raise his eyelids and flutter his lashes. Smaug was close- so close- too close. "Smaug?"

"Sleep." The word was almost lost in the crackle of the fire and the blood rushing through Bilbo's warm ears. It ran over his skin like water, soaked into his brain, and Bilbo nodded weakly in agreement as the large hands lifted him up and golden eyes looked him over.

"Mhm…" He mumbled, letting his head loll as the dragon in man form pulled him down out of the chair gently, making almost no sound, and swaddled him in a blanket. He felt fingers brushing too hard against his scalp, pulling and tugging at the inevitable snarls his hair always turned into by the end of the day, but he couldn't think of a protest.

Everything was so warm.

"Good, thiefling," The rumble returned, rolling through his chest like an oncoming storm through the sky and Bilbo sniffled faintly. "sleep." The hobbit felt the arms sweep him up –felt the larger body cocoon itself around him and his blanket, really- and didn't mind at all. The dragon radiated the heat that came from the fire and, after a few seconds and a roll, Bilbo was facing away but surrounded by warmth.

Smaug smelt like fire and decay. Sweet decay, like the leaves in autumn, but hotter and crisper.

"Sleep, and dream."