"Little thief," Bilbo rolled away from the voice, but hardly moved. "it is noon."
"Noon?" Bilbo grumbled, "My word... sound the alarm." He burrowed deeper into the blanket he'd claimed for himself and groaned wordlessly. "Leave me be,"
"Strange..." Bilbo frowned in his sleep and rolled again, uncomfortably hot, and moved not an inch. "I was under the impression nary a few hours ago, little thief, that you were eager to leave your hole for a time." And suddenly it all came crashing back and Bilbo was wholly awake, in the clutches of a dragon.
"SMAUG!" Bilbo sat up, hearing the tear of his shirttails, and he winced as he turned around to face the dragon-man. Smaug glanced at the cloth in his grasp, dropping the rags with a quirked brow, and he regarded Bilbo as you would a child; considering the dragon's age, the comparison was not far off.
"Really, thief," Smaug rose to his feet and dusted off the pants he wore. "this does get tiresome. Though my name is great and full of power, it would do better for you to shriek it less of it upon each waking of the day." He regarded the hobbit standing in the archway from one room to the next unreadably, placing his hands on his hips, and he cocked his head so as to accommodate the low ceiling above. "Shall you commence with your excursion then or no?"
Bilbo, righting the front of his shirt that was left and mourning the tails, nodded once mutely and hurried out into the hall for another shirt. His mind was still dizzy from sleep and, despite his surroundings, Bilbo could scarcely think of the dragon as the bigger problem at that point. His outing would be dragon-watched, and what in the name of the Shire would his neighbors think of the towering, badly dressed shadow he'd accumulated for himself so mysteriously.
He'd hardly eaten first breakfast, and elevensies was out of the question, but Bilbo debated the idea of a brief luncheon before he left. He had some bread left, and the ham he'd put on ice would make good sandwich meat. Bilbo's stomach gurgled as he pulled one arm through his sleeve, buttoning his shirt, and fixed his collar over the edge of his waistcoat. His sleeves cinched nicely at his wrists, which gave his brief comfort in the normalcy, but the sound of his handle rattling made the hobbit flinch and he spun to see his door still firmly closed.
"Thief, I grow weary of this delay." Smaug growled from the other side of the wood. "Are-"
"Coming!" Bilbo quickly opened his door, his eyes wide, and he bumped right into the dragon. He stumbled back a step, feeling his face heat up as he risked a glance upward. The dragon-man had put a hand to his stomach and was staring at his midsection with a grimace of disgust; Bilbo felt his neck dampen with sweat. "I'm sorry, I-"
"By the Fires," Smaug muttered, patting his stomach. "how do you bipeds survive with such a vulnerable underbelly? It's so…" He patted his stomach again, the flat expanse thudding faintly, and Bilbo tried not to laugh again at the utterly innocent reaction he saw in the dragon. "fleshy."
Bilbo chuckled: "We're careful." He tried to hide the smile –to tell himself that Smaug, the Chiefest of Calamities, was nothing to laugh at- but he couldn't contain his Tookishness anymore. His lips broke into a smile and the brief flash of teeth as he scurried into the hall caught Smaug's eye. "Come on, then, let's go."
"Do I amuse you, thiefling?" Smaug hissed, following in Bilbo's footsteps with snakelike grace. He practically slithered in the hobbit's shadow, looming over him, and slowly Bilbo lost his amused expression; a real wash of cold fear doused him as he wondered if he'd pushed his luck too far. "Is my man form somehow humorous to you?"
"No, no, I-" Before Bilbo could really explain himself, Smaug had hold of his cheeks and, squatting to bring his burning amber eyes level with Bilbo's, the dragon in disguise stretched his face with a withering look. "OW, OW, OW!"
"Does it seem as though Smaug, the Terror of Dale, is within this shell to play to your whims and fancies, thiefling?!" The dragon kept pulling –back and forth, stretched and relaxed- and eventually Bilbo's bright merry eyes were teary from the stinging pain of the harsh tugging on his face. "Do you find me funny, thief?! Funny how?" Bilbo struggled to speak between the stretches, trying to make himself understood, but Smaug wouldn't give him time. He was too busy ranting and raving and getting himself all worked up to listen to what little Bilbo Baggins had to say.
"UWA!" Bilbo cried out when, releasing his cheeks, Smaug knocked him on his bum and he hit his head off the baseboard of the hall.
"WHAT IS SO FUNNY?" Smaug snarled, "WHAT AMUSES YOU, THIEF?"
"Fire-Fireside stories." Bilbo managed. "Presents. Writing my book, smoke rings. The first summer strawberries with fresh cream, the sunshine on the Brandywine river…" He could feel himself shaking, quivering against the floor he'd so proudly kept clean, but his mouth kept running on and on like an excited child's. "Many things amuse me, and I found that funny. You… the Terrible, the Malicious, the Malevolent- finding a bump on the stomach so strange; you looked so confused."
Smaug spluttered wordlessly, his throat glowing hot, but no fire came. He looked indignant, like a bird with its feathers ruffled too harshly, and Bilbo couldn't help but smile again at the ridiculously human expression on his face.
"Like that." Bilbo said honestly, pointing it out. "You looked almost exactly like that." Smaug stared down at Bilbo, his expression frozen, and a small narrow of his eyes was all Bilbo got before the dragon-man whipped around and stalked back into the smials of Bag End furiously. The hobbit stayed down, unsure whether he could move or not. "Um… Smaug?"
"Go." Thundered the dragon from out of sight, making Bilbo jump as his voice resonated through his halls like it had under the mountain. "Be back before last light, thiefling, or I shall hunt you."