A/N: well for now Bilbo's perspective is much more fun :)

Bilbo couldn't sleep. It was a peaceful night and they finally had a moment of security without Orcs few yards away. But as tension and fear loosened up something else grabbed hold on him. He was sensible Hobbit, always calm and collected, more so, he was respectable Hobbit and it wasn't becoming of him to act so childishly. He turned fifty some time ago, it was time to be more sensible than ever, youth was no longer excuse for elf hunting. Although seeing elves proved to be gratifying and beautiful. But he didn't expect that he wouldn't be smitten by them but by a dwarf of all things.

And Thorin was just that, smelly, loud, impolite dwarf who only saw their own kind. There was no sense or reason to like a dwarf like him. If he had to like a man, which isn't so unbecoming, it is known and happens often enough, why had it be stubborn dwarf who was a prince among other things. Someone he should treat with respect and not to dwell upon texture of his hair. It was most unbecoming.

He tried to hide his fixation on everything he does, and he pretended he's just like rest of them, looking at their leader, but it seeped through and some of them started to notice. Balin watched him with more concern and sympathy than he should. But luckily there was a fair chance Thorin hadn't noticed. He was a prince, he was used to be looked upon so he rarely looked at those staring at him keeping his posture and dignity intact. He only stared at them fiercly when he was angry or when he inspired them. Other times he just stared at distance making himself company in his own mind.

Bilbo wondered about what he thinks about. And sometimes small wish escaped him, a wish that he thinks of Bilbo sometimes. It didn't have to be for long, just small thoughts, maybe approval that seemed to climb into his eyes since Gandalf cured him. Somehow it soothed Bilbo's tortured hearth to think he has an occasional residence in Thorin's thoughts.

As he tried to fall asleep and keep Thorin off his mind he lied still, he forgot to move because thoughts of Thorin soothed him to sleep but was always ushered back to awareness when those thoughts would cross the border and went to some place that was more than uncomfortable, that was purely shameful. Unbecoming of a Hobbit, or a dwarf, well maybe men indulged thoughts like that. That's how he became so cold that he started to shake.

He was too tired to warm himself, too cold to go to sleep, too engaged by thoughts of Thorin to wiggle. Wiggling induced more uncomfortable states.

That's why he finally resigned to being awake and got up to get closer to the flame. Fire is warm, he could be on guard as long as his thoughts taunt him.

He realized that Thorin was on guard when he was already spotted. He should have pay attention to guard change, to look before he got up. This way he sat by the fire trying to warm up not daring to speak up. He feared his voice would betray his night thoughts.

Thorin stayed mercifully quiet. Only that damn fire wasn't warm enough. He kept shaking because his body was too stiff, too constrict in forced attempt to hide any lingering emotions that haunted him.

Then impossible happened. Thorin, obviously noticing his shivering lifted up a blanket in invitation to get warm. Bilbo stared at an empty space beside Thorin stopping his breathing. He has to either to speak up and decline, which would lead into argument, and into more talking, and he wasn't even sure he could produce a voice in this state, either to just sit in and stifle all thoughts while he inhales the beauty and strength. He almost whimpered under that thought so he quickly moved in closer hoping his twitching and shivering will be interpreted as sign of the cold. This way Thorin at least won't be able to read his face.

Thorin put the blanket around his shoulders and Bilbo tried to stay upright and calm resisting the urge to shamelessly lean on him and inhale deeply. He managed to do that but the warmth soon got to him releasing his muscles from the stiffness and his eyes started to close. It was strange really that the thoughts that haunted him when he was on the ground alone all went quiet taking away alertness from him. He should be terrified by the prospects of falling asleep on Thorin's side, drooling away unconscious, maybe even mumbling, but he wasn't. He felt somehow safe. Maybe he was wrong, maybe there was nothing strange about his fascination with Thorin, and maybe it was just his sure posture that provoked respect.

Yes, said Bilbo to himself as he fell asleep, that is it, just respect and friendship, nothing more.

He woke up suddenly all afraid that he's still drooling on Thorin's coat but Thorin was nowhere in sight. Everyone was picking up their stuff so Bilbo hurried to pack his. He hesitated about Thorin's cover, but finally folded it putting it on his backpack. He'll return it later on.

As Thorin led on their company Bilbo looked at his dignified profil and repeated to himself that it was just respect and admiration, nothing more, but then his piercing blue eyes touched Bilbo's and he felt it like spear going through his whole body and he stopped breathing for a moment, not moving. Thorin diverted his gaze and Bilbo continued to breathe. Some strong kind of admiration. They started to move and he focused himself in keeping up.

Come on people, smile at me, throw pebbles at me, show me that I'm not writing this only for my own pleasure :)