Chapter 4

"Thorin?"

Bilbo winced at the weak rasp of his voice. He body still ached and his throat was dry, but his head had cleared somewhat and it seemed his fever had subsided.

With clumsy fingers, he reached for the cup of water on his bedside table and drank, wincing at the stale taste. How long had he been asleep? He set the cup down, and the sharp sound of the empty container against the table nearly made him wince.

"Thorin?" he called again, his voice steadier this time.

No response.

Bilbo laid back, his heart thumping almost painfully in his chest. Since he had returned, Thorin had not left his side once. He didn't know where else the dwarf would be.

Another few minutes passed, and he felt his insides turn to ice.

That was it, then. Bilbo had deluded himself into thinking his friend could return from the dead, and it had taken recovering from sickness to break him out of his fantasy.

A burning lump appeared in his throat, and he shut his eyes, trying to slow his breathing. He couldn't do this again.

When he opened his eyes again, he realized with a jolt that Thorin was standing there. He had evidently been trying to cross the room without making too much noise, but upon seeing that Bilbo was conscious, his eyes widened and he moved to the bed.

"Bilbo. You're awake, thank Mahal." He helped him sit up. "I heard you speak, but you've been talking in your sleep lately."

He took a couple more deep breaths to steady himself, relief making his ears ring. Thorin was still here, after all. "H-How long was I asleep?"

"You were…" His mouth set in a flat line as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. "The fever subsided after a couple days. Your gardener and the healer took care of you during that time." A small smile graced his lips. "They're good people, the two of them."

Bilbo nodded. Before he could stop himself, he reached out and placed a hand on Thorin's arm in what he hoped was a casual movement. A tiny, irrational part of him wanted to check that Thorin was indeed still there.

"Something troubles you." His larger hand came to cover Bilbo's own, making him look up. In the light of the moon shining through his bedroom window, Thorin's eyes carried a silvery glint, making him look hauntingly beautiful.

"I was afraid you'd gone," Bilbo said, and tried to laugh off his statement, though it came as more of a grimace as his sore throat protested.

"No." Thorin's brow furrowed, his gaze steady with silent promise. "I would never leave you in such a vulnerable state. I will be here as long as you need me."

His words were enough to quiet Bilbo's fears. He relaxed, drawing in a deep breath as he considered the implications of his promise. Thorin could stay, and there was no quest or kingdom or danger to disrupt that arrangement.

The hopeful smile creeping onto his face faltered as he noticed the tension in Thorin's posture. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing." He turned his head slightly to the side, as if to physically wave away Bilbo's concerns.

He nearly brought his free hand up to rest against the dwarf's cheek, but caught himself at the last moment. "Thorin. I shared with you what was troubling me, and I'd like you to do the same."

Drawing in a deep breath, Thorin turned to face him once more. "It was...distressing to see you ill and to know that I could do nothing to help you." His gaze fell to the bedsheets. "I am truly sorry I could do so little to aid you in your time of need."

"No." Bilbo sat up, fever and headache forgotten. "No, Thorin, that is not something you need to apologize for. Hamfast was there, and he got me a healer. And I have lived on my own for a great many years now. If I were to be defeated by a little cold, that is testament to my own failings, not yours." He leaned closer, looking him in the eye. "And I won't have you blaming yourself for something you cannot help."

No, Thorin certainly did not owe him anything in the way of caretaking, especially after Bilbo had failed to protect him during the battle.

"You have done more than enough for me simply by being here," he said. The tenderness in Thorin's eyes along with their proximity was enough to make his heart pound madly, but Bilbo kept talking. "You have made me happier, Thorin, than I have been in a very long time. And I wouldn't trade having you with me for the world."

In that moment, an unspoken agreement seemed to pass between the two of them. One of Thorin's hand came up to rest on the back of his neck, tentatively pulling him closer. Bilbo tilted his head up at the same time Thorin leaned in, and when their lips met, he felt a feverish heat flush anew through his body.

He responded to the kiss eagerly, reaching up to grasp Thorin's shoulders and pull him closer as Thorin's free arm wound around his back. For a few blissful moments, the dark quiet of the room fell away and Bilbo's senses were consumed by the soft heat of Thorin's mouth against his own, the roughness of his beard against his skin, the strength of his arms as they held him close.

Far too soon for his liking, they broke apart and Thorin rested his forehead against Bilbo's, his breath leaving a ghost of tender warmth against his lips. Bilbo reached up, running his fingertips along Thorin's neck, across his jaw, into the thick tangle of his dark hair.

As he drifted down from his euphoria, his exhaustion and soreness returned. Happy as he was, he still was not completely recovered from his illness.

Thorin seemed to realize this, and reluctantly released him. "You should get some rest."

"Will you stay with me?" he asked. Thorin tilted his head as if to say, Didn't we already establish that? and Bilbo blushed and tried to amend his question. "I meant here." He patted the space on the bed next to where he was sitting. "If that's—if you're…"

"I'll stay." Thorin shed his coat, armor, and boots and climbed onto the bed next to Bilbo. Though the Baggins part of him argued that this was crossing quite a few thresholds, especially for one night, something felt decidedly right about pulling the covers back and watching Thorin settle himself on the pillow next to his own. They laid side by side for a while, listening to the crickets outside.

Eventually the question nagging at the back of his mind pressed itself onto his tongue, and Bilbo shifted so he was facing Thorin. "I won't say I'm not happy with this turn of events, but I want to make sure…" He trailed off as Thorin turned to face him. "Because, you know, this whole, um, thing is rather new to me—new to us both, in fact—I just want to make sure I've got all the details right, because, um…"

"Speak your mind, Bilbo."

"I-Is this only happening because I want it to?"

Thorin's brow furrowed. "How do you mean?"

"Well." Now that he thought about it further, it was a rather silly idea, but he had already brought it up, and he knew Thorin would not allow him to dismiss the topic. "Earlier you said that you were called here for me, specifically, and I'm assuming it was you who appeared because there is no one in the world who I would rather see. You are here because I wished for it, and now…"

"You're wondering if this is too good to be true. If my feelings for you are genuine." There was no judgement in Thorin's tone, but hearing the words out loud made shame writhe in his stomach.

Bilbo sighed, struggling to find a way to express his doubts without sounding like an absolute fool. "I mean, are these feelings...did you have them before?"

"Yes. I fell in love with you long before I died." A hint of sorrow entered his gaze.

At those words, Bilbo felt as though someone had taken hold of his heart and squeezed. "Oh." And suddenly he felt the chill of grief all over again.

Sensing this, Thorin smiled softly and said, "I believe the exact moment I realized was in Laketown. We had just been taken by the master's guards, and you stepped forward and spoke up for me."

Bilbo remembered that night well enough—the gentle snowfall, the curious crowd of men and women, the light of the torches against Thorin's hair. Speaking up on his behalf had been an impulsive move on his part, but he'd meant every word.

"What you said made me realize that I had underestimated you once again. You had already proven your bravery, your resourcefulness, but it takes still greater courage to stand with another in the face of scrutiny. You are a true and loyal friend, Bilbo, and I never should have doubted you."

It was difficult to speak around the sudden lump in his throat. "I...That is very kind of you to say."

"I only wish I could have had more time to express how I felt," Thorin continued. "When I grew sick, I wasted valuable time focusing on the wrong things. I nearly destroyed everything between us."

The pain in his voice was raw and ragged, and Bilbo could not stop himself from closing the distance between them and pressing their foreheads together as Thorin had done earlier. "We have time now, to do and say everything we couldn't before. And I have already forgiven you for everything that happened when you were sick, so don't you go feeling guilty about that either."

Thorin smiled at that, his eyes shining like gemstones inches from Bilbo's own. "Of course. We have time." He placed one hand on the small of his back and pulled him closer. "But for now—-"

"Yes, yes, I know. I need to rest." Bilbo shifted so his head was against Thorin's chest and let out a contented sigh. After a moment, he lifted it again. "I can't get you sick, can I?"

"No." Thorin placed one hand on the back of his head, coaxing it back into its original position. "Don't worry about me. Get some sleep."

He closed his eyes, feeling the rumble of Thorin's voice against his cheek, and within moments he had drifted off.

And for the first time in months, Bilbo slept without nightmares.

Beams of golden light eventually drew him from his slumber. Bilbo let out a sound that was a mix of a groan and a sigh and made to stretch...only to realize that it would be quite impossible to move without disturbing the body next to him.

Thorin. His arms were still wrapped around him, his chest rising and falling evenly as he slept. Bilbo smiled to himself and relaxed, closing his eyes again. They would have to get up eventually, but for now he was content to lie here and enjoy the peace.

Their conversation from the previous night came back in pieces, and Bilbo felt his heartbeat speed up a little as the memories swirled around his head. Everything had been laid bare between them, and though their situation was far from perfect and he still wasn't sure what to make of it all, a great deal of the pain that had wrapped itself around his heart had dissipated, and in its place was a strange and slightly overwhelming sense of freedom.

Bilbo had never really fit in with the other hobbits. There had always been the contradiction of his lineage—the staid propriety of the Baggins family at odds with the adventurous curiosity of the Tooks—that left him feeling as if he was in a strange in-between that would leave him dissatisfied either way. He had been unsure what to think of himself, and the other hobbits had been unsure as well, and that had made them wary.

Though he hadn't exactly been welcomed with open arms when the Company had first come through his door, traveling with them had been radically different. The dwarves cared little for his family heritage. He'd soon come to realize that they liked him for his good humor and storytelling and loyalty towards their cause. More than that, they had genuinely liked him. Being with the Company had allowed him to somewhat find his footing.

Bilbo occasionally wondered if he should have stayed with his friends in Erebor. He would have been welcome, would have been surrounded by people who enjoyed his company.

But the thought of living each day under the shadow of loss, of seeing Thorin memorialized and turned into a legacy carved into stone—unreachable and sealed away in the past—had been unbearable. He hadn't been able to fathom living each day with the reminder of what he had lost.

It seemed now, with Thorin's arms encircling him and one strand of dark hair tickling his chin, that Bilbo had finally found a middle ground of sorts, one where he belonged. He was not alone, nor was he grieving. If the other hobbits thought him mad, he would let them. He would live the rest of his life without apology or restraint, now that he had nothing holding him back.

I have no self control so I'm having them get together in the fourth chapter. Hopefully the excessive fluff made up for the long update delay. I've had a lot of big changes in my life recently so I've been trying to adjust to all the chaos. Hopefully the next chapter (which is longer btw) will be up sooner.

Huge thanks to Anno1701 and Bootsrcool for the kind comments, and big welcome to all the new followers. I'm honestly blown away by the response to this story, and I'm glad you're all enjoying it. Please leave a comment letting me know what you thought, it really makes my day. Until next time!