Bilbo began to fear that his afternoon would become very, very long.

Pinned on the hearth, the hobbit had little to do but doze and stoke the fire and comb his fingers through the hair of the sleeping dragon. He did so carefully at first, letting his fingers just trail against his scalp, but then the dragon had insistently nosed his knee for more force. By the end of an hour and a half, Bilbo was dragging his nails through the untamable mess of curls and working out each knot by hand. In the heat of the fire, it was soft like an animal pelt or heated velvet, and –seeing as he had no other pressing matters at hand- Bilbo tried to remember the last night he'd spent in the great dwarf kingdom of Erebor.

"Thorin?" Bilbo looked up from his bags and chests in surprise. He and Gandalf were leaving at first light, and the hobbit had wanted to be sure he didn't leave anything behind in the rooms he'd been given. "I didn't hear you come in. Is something wrong?"

"Nothing," The dwarf prince looked away, around the rich chamber, and then he fixed his eyes on Bilbo. "but it is your last night in my halls and I owe you my life, Master Baggins."

"Bilbo," The hobbit was quick to correct him. "please, my friends call me Bilbo." He approached Thorin and put out a hand for the prince to shake, hoping he hadn't made a mistake about their standing. Thorin stared at him unreadably until Bilbo's smile faltered, and he let his hand fall slowly in the silence between them. "I'm sorry, I just thought-"

"Bilbo Baggins," Thorin's hot, callused hand closed around the hobbit's, making him squeak, and he gripped it tightly. "I have never been so wrong about any man in my life. Thank you. Without your assistance, Erebor and myself would be lost. I am glad to call you 'friend'." The dwarf prince let his tight grip fade, and Bilbo shook their joined hands once before it was through, raising Thorin's eyebrows.

"Not as glad as I am," Bilbo admitted, and they shared a silent moment before Bilbo cleared his throat and tucked his hands in his pockets. "but... uh, c-can I help you with something?"

"I came to give you my gift, as the others have gone to bed already. I see my sister-sons have become quite fond of you..."

Bilbo flushed at the obvious reference to the large pile of gifts, some of which he had already labeled for future reference.

"I tried to refuse, but they were quite insistent." Bilbo admitted; his face went red as Thorin lifted a coat off the pile and traced the inlaid golden crest on the back. "I'm quite sure I shouldn't have something like that... the crest, it is Erebor's, isn't it?"

"It is the sigil of a warrior of Erebor. My father's guard bore it when he was king, and mine will bear it soon enough." Thorin tossed the coat to Bilbo and crossed his arms over his wide chest. "Put it on."

Bilbo barely caught it. "What?"

"Let me see it on you," Thorin insisted, his heavy gaze weeding out Bilbo's protests and bending the hobbit to his will. He shrugged off his usual burgundy coat shyly, careful to hang it on the post of the bed, and soon he was wrapped in the dwarfish coat. It was thick –this was surely a garment for colder weathers- and Bilbo smiled as the fur around the collar tickled his chin.

"This is... amazing," Bilbo sighed, snuggling into the fabric. "I'll have to thank them if I can before I go." Bilbo's smile fell and he pulled the coat a little tighter to hide it. "This coat is so wonderful."

"Why not stay a few more days?" Thorin suggested, "Fili and Kili would probably love to have you for a little while longer, and Balin would be able to allot you your real one fourteenth." He was a ball of tense energy, buzzing from one place to the next, and Bilbo failed to hide his smile.

"I can't." Bilbo put out a hand and stopped the dwarf. "Gandalf is leaving at first light tomorrow, and he won't be back for another year, at least.

"Then stay the year." Thorin caught Bilbo's elbow and held tight. "Make Erebor your home, make- stay." He stared hard at Bilbo, making the hobbit fidget and look away; his heart hammered against his ribs until he could hardly hear.

"Thorin," Bilbo sighed and his forehead crinkled. "would you leave Fili and Kili if I asked you? Never see them again?" He watched the understanding bloom like flowers in the dwarf's eyes. "My nephew, Frodo, he doesn't even know I left. He doesn't know I'm alive, or coming back, and I won't do that to him."

"I'll bring him here." Thorin promised, sitting on the bed and clenching his hands into fists. "All of them."

"I have to go home, Thorin." Bilbo insisted, sitting down beside the dwarf prince and patting his shoulder. "My hole in the Shire is where I belong, and I miss it."

"Your books?" Thorin offered.

"And my arm chair, and my garden." Bilbo nodded and laughed. "You remember that?"

"I'll never forget it." Thorin promised. "That meant the world to me, Bilbo. You'd still help us after all I'd said." He locked eyes with Bilbo, scanning his face, and suddenly the soft half-smile was gone. "Sit still."

"Thorin?" Bilbo froze as the dwarf's fingers set into the hair above his right ear, his heart stuttering. He could feel each tug and twist, but he didn't believe it was really happening until Thorin pulled a silver cuff from his hair and fastened the braid shut.

"There." Thorin tucked it back over his pointed ear. "My gift to you."

"But..." Bilbo could only watch mutely as Thorin slowly undid the plain braid in his hair. "what does- I mean,"

"I wove that as penance, a presence I could not forget, for the loss of Erebor. You were essential to its recapture, Bilbo, and therefore it stands to reason that its cuff belongs to you. In this position, you will never forget it. Or me." Bilbo struggled to swallow; the dwarf prince had fixed him with such a fierce stare that the hobbit was frozen.

"I couldn't." Bilbo admitted. "Forget you, I mean. Any of you." He looked at his pack, a longing in his chest, and then took to examining his hairy toes. "I will miss this, but not now. Now I miss home, and home is where I'll go. I'm sorry, Thorin."

He didn't want to see any hurt in the dwarf's face; he didn't want to let himself get lost in his penetrating stare; he couldn't change his mind on the eve of his departure; he couldn't stay in Erebor.

He needed to go home.

"I understand." Thorin said calmly, drawing Bilbo's gaze. "If you are ever in need, Bilbo, even for the slightest, you may call on Erebor." He cupped Bilbo's head with his free hand and met his eyes again. "I will come with the might of the mountain behind. You need only call, and all of Erebor will answer, little hobbit."

Bilbo smiled, leaning into his hand. "Thank you,"

When Bilbo's mind wandered back into the Shire, Smaug was belly up and basking in both the heat of the fire and his attentions. His cat-like golden eyes were half-lidded and hazy, but they were locked on Bilbo's face.

Bilbo shifted, glancing at the clock. "Smaug?" He spoke so quietly, fearing to wake the beast, but Smaug's ears twitched and he focused on the hobbit.

"Yes, thiefling?"

"It's nearly dinnertime. Are you hungry?" Bilbo gestured to the kitchen vaguely, hoping to move the dragon's eye, but Smaug's attention could not be diverted. "I have a few links of pork sausage in the larder,"

"Do you have any ponies?" Smaug licked his lips. "I haven't had a nice fat pony since you and those dwarves come up to the mountain... mmm." The rumble of pleasure vibrated through Bilbo's leg, making him shiver, but he didn't dare stop brushing the dragon-man's bangs across his forehead.

"We don't eat our ponies. They're all hitched up to carts or tillers 'round here." Bilbo said finally, not wanting to be the bearer of bad news. "But sausage is good."

"What about bacon?" Smaug suggested hopefully, his eyes bright and keen. "Nice, crispy bacon, and those red... some tomatoes?"

"Bacon is for breakfast." Bilbo said resolutely. As with any respectable hobbit, food and meals were a point on which he was not willing to budge. "Besides, bacon is made from the same meat as a pork sausage. You'll like it." His hands stilled and Bilbo saw the change in Smaug's eye when he looked back down. "Come on now, up we go."

"No." "'No'?!" Bilbo repeated, staring down at the dragon in man form angrily. "How do you expect me to make supper if I'm sitting here? I must get up if you want to eat, Smaug. There is no other way." The hobbit bristled as the dragon, rolling over, buried his face in the hobbit's leg and grumbled incoherently for a moment. "Smaug..."

"You are lucky, little thief," Smaug growled, pushing up enough to let the hobbit move out from under him. "that I lust for the foods you speak of. If not, you would continue to attend me." He gave Bilbo a sour look, though less sour than it had been before Bilbo had tangled his fingers in his curls, and the hobbit smirked at the sudden sulkiness of the dragon.

"Of course, oh Smaug the Stupendous." Bilbo replied, dusting himself off and sweeping the spilt lunch from earlier back onto the plate. He heard the dragon in man form snort as he buried himself in the blankets he'd pulled out on that first night, and he tried not to chuckle as he realized that Smaug had been doing the same with the gold of Erebor when they had first met. "I shall start it right away. Make yourself at home,"