Bilbo was standing at the counter when Thorin entered. The king had collected his trousers from the other room and slipped them on before entering the kitchen which smelled of a truly home-style breakfast that make his mouth water and his stomach gurgle hungrily. With soft footing he crossed the terracotta floor before stopping behind the shorter male who had yet to notice him; he was busy taking biscuits off of the hot cooking sheet and onto a plate. The hobbit was wearing the patch-pattern robe that he had been wearing during their first meeting and the thought made Thorin smile.

It was as Thorin was standing in the doorway shrugging on his shirt from the day before that he studied Bilbo. He was as much the same as he was different from when they had first met in this very home all that time ago. This hobbit, who was now humming "All the things that Bilbo hates" under his breath was skinnier than when they had first met and he definitely was more at ease. In that first meeting so long ago—as it seemed to Thorin-it had been made clear that this hobbit was more concerned about his mother's silverware and doilies than reclaiming a kingdom and the promise of gold. He had been chasing around the dwarves of the company as they raided the pantry in search of good food. His face had been red, lips firmly set together to the point they seemed white, and his eyes had desperation to them whenever they had met with those of the wizard that had brought the dwarves to the Shire. But now…

Thorin crept up behind the hobbit and wrapped his arms around Bilbo's hips, dragging him backwards into his chest, eliciting a beautiful gasp from those perfect lips. Bilbo released the tray and it clattered empty onto the stove top.

"Thorin Oakenshield!" he hissed with no real malice or anger.

The dwarven king buried his nose in the honey colored curled and inhaled deeply. How had he been so blind before? All that time where they could have been together…wasted. Bilbo stood in place, his eyes trying to glimpse the body behind him.

"Thorin? What's the matter?"

The grip around him tightened. "I wish to stay with you."

Thorin felt the small body in his arms give a jolt. "W-What do you mean?"

"I wish to stay with you were in Bag End," he elaborated. "I want to watch the seasons pass with you, to learn the ways of hobbits, to share meals with you, to hold you, to kiss you. I desire more than anything to share your bed and have your heart as my most prized gem."

He slipped into Khuzdûl as he continued on. Bilbo, who had twisted around in the king's arms was starting up into steely blue eyes; they were stormy like a raging ocean as Thorin battled with something in his mind.

"Thorin."

The words that had been tumbling from his mouth ceased the instant Bilbo's hand tenderly touched the side of his face.

"Thorin…"

Bilbo stood on his toes to press his forehead to Thorin's. Thorin wasn't sure if the touching of one's forehead to another had the same significance in hobbit culture as it did in dwarven, but he wasn't about to bring it up; he enjoyed feeling Bilbo's breath so close.

"I love you," Bilbo said, his voice low. He squeezed his eyes shut and cupped Thorin's face. Thorin dare not meet his gaze. "I love you more than anything else in this life time. Meeting you has been the highlight of my life, and if one were to ask if I regretted my Journey with you I would tell them I would do it again if prompted."

Thorin squeezed Bilbo's hand, a growing lump rising in his throat.

The hobbit's voice dropped to no more than a whisper. "But I cannot make you stay."

The words felt like a strike to Thorin's gut.

"You fought so hard and long to reclaim that throne. You and all the other dwarves that were forced into exile because of Smaug's wrath…would it be fair to take away from you what you fought for? I could not bear the thought of doing that to you, you who are truly the King Under the Mountain."

It was true. Somewhere in Thorin's heart he knew. If he stayed in the Shire with Bilbo…would all those years have been for naught? What would the dwarves that he had led through Middle Earth, searching for a home, think if he so quickly abandon them? For so long he had dedicated his life to protecting his people, to providing safety and food for them. Could he give that up for this hobbit, a person whom he had only known for a short time in contrast to his kin whom he had been with since birth?

"Your kingdom needs you, Thorin," Bilbo whispered, his voice barely audible. "As much I would love you to stay…I could not be that selfish."

"I could give the throne to Fili," he countered. "Or Kili. Or my sister. The throne does not need to be lacking a Durin on it."

Bilbo shook his head. "Thorin it was you who lead the quest to reclaim Erebor. You alone should rule—"

"Come with me then." The worlds had slipped from his lips before he could even think them through. "Come back to Erebor with me. Be my consort and rule by my side."

From the tips of his pointed ears to the neckline of his shirt the hobbit flushed red. His eyes widened almost comically and his mouth fell open. It took a moment for Thorin to realize what he had just committed to out loud. For Bilbo to be his consort would mean…

"C-Consort?" Bilbo stuttered.

Thorin pulled away from Bilbo just enough to truly look him in the eye while keeping his hands firmly on those smaller shoulders. He could still take back the words; say they were a slip of the tongue, madness on his part. But instead he uttered, "Yes."

"But w-wouldn't that mean…?"

The king nodded mutely. Dwarves only love once in a lifetime; that was how Aulë designed them. He wasn't sure if hobbits felt the same, but he knew standing in front of Bilbo that it was a risk he was willing to take. He wasn't sure how he had ignored the feeling stirring in him for so long-a bubbling feeling in his chest like a pot about to boil over, but now that the question had been said aloud it made the silence and hesitation on Bilbo's part almost unbearable. He leaned down and captured that gaping mouth in his. It was a firm kiss, one that spoke of promises and loyalty. Bilbo kissed back, his mind effectively scrambled from not only the lovely kiss but what seemed to him to be a proposal.

Could he do it? Bilbo had to wonder. He had left Erebor to return to Bag End. He had missed the rolling hills, the beautiful gardens and all the familiar things that hobbits held dear. But it hadn't been as great as he thought it would be. Many days he wandered the halls of his home muttering to himself and drowning in silence. Sure there were neighbors, but he couldn't talk to them; they wanted to gossip and talk about the prices of meat at the butcher whereas he wanted to recount his tales of elves and dragons and Men. There was a realization that the hobbits only knew so much. They did not venture far, so stories were repeated and repeated about the same boring things day after day; no new stories ever appeared that were worth any attention.

He had been lonelier upon returning than he had ever been before the dwarves. But then there was Frodo. With his cousin dead he had come to be the guardian of their young—and still young—boy. He had refrained from traveling anything further than Bree because Frodo was so small, young and vulnerable. Could Frodo stand living in a mountain with his uncle? Would he long for the familiar Shire? Or would he adapt as Bilbo himself had and become an honorary dwarf? All these questions were making his head ache.

And the nightmares. They had only gotten worse since parting Erebor. But last night with Thorin in his bed he had slept as well as he had since his youth. There had been a safety and warmth he hadn't felt in so long it felt like it melted down into his bones; he longed for the feeling day in and out until the end of his days.

Without him noticing the kiss had stopped and Thorin was gazing at him, waiting.

"Is there not an answer you could give me?" Thorin asked gently.

It would be a decision that could alter all their lives, Bilbo was aware of this. He could be robbing his nephew of a peaceful life amongst his own people, or he could be giving him a life where he knows of all the peoples and magic that lies beyond their borders. He could be affecting a whole other race of people with his mere presence. How would they like a hobbit as a consort? Someone who was fleshy and could barely fight and knew nothing about mines? Would they accept him? Would they rebel against Thorin? Or could he act as a bridge between their peoples?

"Frodo. Would he be allowed to come?"

"Of course. He is your family is he not?" Thorin said his finger moving to rub circles on Bilbo's round cheek. "I would not dare part you with him."

"And the dwarves…would they accept me? I mean, I'm not a dwarf…and to be your consort, one so close to the king-"

Thorin smiled. The image of Bilbo adorned with furs and robes made for kings, and rings made from the finest gems, and earrings that glittered in the light made his mouth almost water. He would be a sight to behold. Thorin would have the true beauty of the mountain and the others would be truly envious. "They would have to accept you. Not that it would be hard." When Bilbo looked at him questioningly he elaborated, "Many called you the Hero of Erebor."

"Why?!" he squeaked.

"You are the one who found the hidden door. You were brave enough to face a dragon-a dragon we ran from! And you kept me and the Company alive," he said lovely. "They admire your courage, my dear hobbit. They owe their livelihood to your courageous acts."

Thorin tilted Bilbo's face upwards with his thumb, ensuring he had captured the hobbit's full attention.

"You are the worthiest of all to sit on the throne of Erebor. Not I, but you, you an outsider who gave up your own home and nearly forfeit your life on numerous occasions to ensure the safety of your comrades and to provide a home for peoples of a race other than your own. If those are not qualities a king to possess, than I know not what would further qualify one. Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, Child of the Kindly West, I, Thorin Durin Oakenshield, King of the Lonely Mountain shall beg on my hands and knees to have you be wed to me until the end of our days and for you to rule by my side."

If this is a dream do not wake me.

A smile spread across Bilbo's face and his eyes swelled with tears. "You are a king, Thorin, and kings do not beg. Nor should they have to."

"For you I would kiss the ground and toss my crown away only if it meant you would stay with me. Many days and many nights I had cried out to Aulë for making me a Durin. I wished until the end of my days to be a normal dwarf who could marry whomever he wished."

"But who better to have the freedom to do what he wishes than a king?" Bilbo asked back teasingly.

"Please, Bilbo, I beseech you. What is your answer? Must I truly beg for your love? I will stay as long as I have to in order to receive your answer. But my heart…I know not how long it would last—"

Bilbo gave a laugh. It had been so long since Thorin heard a true laugh from him that it gave him a jolt. It sounded like bells in the wind on a summer day.

"Thorin, you've had my love since our journey together. You've had me wrapped around your finger yet you knew it not! I have forgiven you for the times in which your mind was not your own, for you have proved to me that you feel deep regret for your actions. I have journeyed the world with you and have seen your true nature. That being said, I would gladly spend the remainder of my life with you, whether here or in Erebor."

"Do you mean…?" He had to be sure. There could be no mixing of words or intentions. It would be a done deal in the eyes of the dwarves.

"I will be your One. Until the end of our days."

It was Bilbo who closed the distance with another kiss, this one hot and searing. His tongue slid into Thorin's mouth as if it had been doing it for a century and it almost made Thorin's knees buckle. Thorin wrapped his arms firmly around Bilbo for if he let go he was sure this phantom would disappear before him. A dream…it had to be. But there were hands on the hem of his pants and fingers past it.

"Would you mind…" Bilbo panted once they broke away, "waiting a bit longer for breakfast?"

"Âzyungâl, I would wait forever."