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Bilbo had really thought they were becoming friends.
If not sooner, than surely, the hug at the Carrock made him believe Thorin finally opened up to him, moving from the crossness and dismissal he had for Bilbo at the start of their journey.
But, not at all long after, he just had to go and mess it all up. And mess up Bilbo did, if the looks the dwarves were giving him were anything to go by. Their expressions were those of complete and utter shock as they all stared at Bilbo. Thorin, especially, had turned concerningly red in the face as he stared down at the hobbit, who was cradling a pebble in his open palms as his anxiety grew.
“Um, so… you do not want this, I take it?” Bilbo asked in a small voice, barely able to keep it from cracking.
Thorin made a sound eerily similar to that of Lobelia Sackville-Baggins choking on a piece of asparagus. Then he promptly turned around and stomped off without a word.
The hobbit watched him go and tried his best to school his expression to not show any of the mortification he felt at that moment.
Well done, Bilbo, now you’ve really done it.
-
It had begun innocently enough. Thorin’s hug at the Carrock had been a surprise for Bilbo, but not an unwelcome one. A very welcome one, actually, he thought as he breathed in Thorin’s scent and put his own arm around him. It had been- it had felt- well. He would never share it with anyone, but Bilbo had enjoyed it immensely. There, surrounded by the dwarf’s strong arms and pleasant scent, he felt appreciated. Protected. Comforted. And, deep down, so deep that he had trouble admitting it to even himself, loved. Thorin Oakenshield had made him feel loved. And wasn’t that something.
In the days after that, he found out that the dwarven king no longer looked at him with contempt, but that his gaze now held warmth and what he could only describe as fondness. And he looked at Bilbo a great deal more now, too - it was often the case that Bilbo found Thorin looking at him, be it unabashed staring or a quick glance from the corner of his eye. Sometimes, Thorin held Bilbo’s gaze for a few moments longer before turning away, sometimes he’d look away as soon as the hobbit as much as glanced at him. Those looks, though - they were always warm, always fond. And oh, if that didn’t make Bilbo’s treacherous heart skip a beat every time. They haven’t really had a moment truly alone together, but Bilbo could feel Thorin lingering - when Bilbo was cooking supper with Bombur and Thorin came to observe their chopping, stirring and tasting to exchange a few words before being pulled away by Balin for a quick briefing, when he gratefully accepted some water and a snack from the hobbit between training sessions with Dwalin or his mischievous nephews, and when the Company was washing up in a river they had come across and Bilbo was the last one to wash himself, his hobbit propriety getting the better of him once again, and came to wash just as the others were leaving, Thorin’s eyes boring into his back, making him submerge himself that much quicker to hide his rapidly reddening cheeks.
And that’s how Bilbo got the idea.
Despite not knowing a whole lot about dwarven culture, as secretive as the folk were, Bilbo did learn some tidbits here and there on their journey so far. Most of those were the occasional curse word (courtesy of mostly Dwalin and the young princes) and a few tasty recipes that Bombur was kind enough to share with him, but he also learned a thing or two about gift-giving. There was a time when he found himself pulled into a discussion about relationships. He believes it was Fíli who asked him about hobbit customs regarding making friends, and when he told them it wasn’t really such a big deal for hobbits, that one could simply offer someone they wished to befriend a nice, preferably home-cooked meal or a helping hand, the dwarves had taken this information with both hearty chuckles and surprised gasps. When Bilbo asked how dwarves would go about it, Fíli explained that the dwarven folk didn’t take to such matters as lightly. They were all about giving gifts, Bilbo had learned, and they valued something that was made by someone’s own hands the most. That wasn’t always necessary, though, and just as often, the gift could be of other origins. Highly regarded on the list of suitable gifts were gems and jewels. Or, as Bilbo surmised, all things shiny. Those jewels and even more ordinary stones all supposedly had their meanings based on their type and colour, but at that point, Bombur had called the Company to eat and the conversation got quickly forgotten in the sounds of dishes clattering and food being gobbled up.
As Bilbo’s head emerged from the water, cooled down sufficiently, he spotted something shiny in the water just nearby, half-hidden in the sand. Curious, he waddled over to shallow waters and picked it up from where it gleamed. When he did so, he found it was a pebble, a small, glossy and perfectly smooth rock the colour of- Bilbo’s breath hitched - the exact same light blue colour as Thorin’s eyes.
And just like that, Bilbo knew what he had to do.
So that’s what he did, just after he had dried in the afternoon sun. He strolled up to the dwarven leader, patted him on the shoulder and when Thorin turned to face him, presented the pebble to him.
“I found this rock and… I thought it’s rather lovely, all glossy, and- I mean- I thought of you and that you might like to have it? As a gift?” He stumbled on his words a little, and knew too well that his cheeks had flushed, but still he preservered, lifting the pebble a bit higher so that Thorin might see it better. And see it Thorin did.
His reaction wasn’t anything like what Bilbo was expecting, though.
Sure, he didn’t think Thorin would be smiling widely with gratefulness, but Bilbo never could’ve expected that instead of a polite “thank you” there would be broken sounds coming out of his mouth, something between choking and wailing, and that Thorin’s entire face would turn beet-red as he stared at the rock nestled in Bilbo’s grasp as if it was something both completely alien to him and completely unexpected to see in Bilbo’s hands of all places. He flicked his eyes from the rock to Bilbo’s face, which was becoming more and more confused as time passed. A sharp gasp had Bilbo frowning, turning to look at whatever had made the sound, and what he found was thirteen pairs of eyes staring back at him with varying levels of shock, surprise, indignation and mirth. Dwalin, for one, looked absolutely poleaxed. Fíli and Kíli were in utter shock, their eyebrows shooting up and up, their mouths hanging open. Balin, Nori and Bofur were sporting expressions of surprise as well as mischievous and mirthful glints in their eyes, their lips twitching into the beginnings of wide grins. Glóin, Óin, Bombur and Bifur had eyes and mouths open wide in disbelief, and Dori looked absolutely scandalized as he gasped, even holding a hand over Ori’s eyes as the young lad struggled to wiggle out of his brother’s hold. And Gandalf, the blasted wizard, feigned choking on his pipe as he laughed.
Bilbo’s breath stuttered. Oh no. Oh no, no no no no no. He messed up, he clearly messed up, and now they’re all going to hate him, and it’s going to be even worse than at the beginning and Thorin will hate me and -
Right. Thorin.
“Um, so… you do not want this, I take it?”
The way the dwarf stomped off was enough of a response.
One dwarf had fled the scene, but twelve others and a damned wizard remained.
“Put that vulgar thing away this instant, Master Baggins!” Dori screeched. Bilbo looked down on the small pebble with a frown. “Vulgar? Why, it’s-”
“PUT IT AWAY!” Dori screamed and this time, Bilbo obliged, slipping the rock into his coat pocket as he briskly walked away in a direction opposite to the one in which Thorin had left.
-
Some time later, the situation has, according to Bilbo, finally somewhat calmed down. The hobbit was hiding behind a tall pine near their camp, unwilling to let anyone, anyone at all, see him. Being alone with his embarrassment, however, could only last for so long, because soon, his mind was aflame trying to think of just what sort of a message did the small blue rock convey. Bilbo knew he’d get much too mortified to ask a dwarf about it, so he had to settle for the next best thing.
As soon as he saw Gandalf heading his way, he hissed as loudly as he dared to get the wizard’s attention. Gandalf’s eyebrow rose up as he noticed the hobbit, his lips quirking upwards. Bilbo made gestures for him to come join him behind the pine, quickly and quietly, but the wizard, as always, moved at his own pace, never letting anyone or anything rush him. When he was finally close enough, Bilbo grabbed him by the arm and yanked him behind the tree. Gandalf didn’t look perturbed in the slightest by it, merely amused. “And what might you need, Master Baggins?” he asked jovially once Bilbo frowned up at him.
“What was that about? What did I do?” he asked as neutrally as he could muster, but still, he sounded much too panicked even to his own ears. The wizard shrugged.
“And what might you mean?”
“The rock, Gandalf! What was that all about?”
The man in question hummed noncommittally. “Different stones hold meanings for dwarves, just as hobbits find meanings in different flowers and greenery,” he said.
Bilbo paled, then reddened. “Yes,” he hissed a bit too sharply than he intended, “I figured out that much! The thing I don’t know is what meaning did that rock have!”
“Well,” Gandalf drawled as he pocketed his pipe, “let’s just say it was quite straightforward of you. Some might even say inappropriate, for such a public display.”
“Oh no, oh no no no,” Bilbo covered his eyes with his hands, slumping against the tree. “Well. I have to go home now, I suppose. I simply can’t show my face to them,” he motioned vaguely in the direction of the dwarven bunch, “ever again.”
Gandalf huffed and bent down to tap Bilbo’s shoulder gently. “I wouldn’t go to such drastic measures. I’m sure a simple apology will do.”
At this, Bilbo looked up from where he was hiding his face in his hands. “Are - are you absolutely sure?” the hobbit said in a small voice. “It looked like quite a serious offence.”
Gandalf shook his head. “I am sure. It wasn’t an offence at all, merely… a misunderstanding. Do not throw away all that you’ve been through now for such a small thing,” he reassured, and Bilbo had to concede that he had a point. Surely they’ve been through so much together, the dwarves would understand that he had meant no harm and forgive him… right?
He stood up, determined to clear the misunderstanding up. “Alright. I shall go to Thorin,” he declared. Gandalf chuckled. “You do exactly that, friend,” he agreed. “I’m sure he’ll be amenable to your apology,” he added, and Bilbo was off before he could fully comprehend the mirth in the wizard’s voice.
-
As he walked right into their encampment, he noticed all eyes were on him. Dori was frowning at him while Bofur and Nori regarded him with an overabundance of winking and wiggling their eyebrows. Bombur coughed and looked down at the stew he was stirring when Bilbo passed him by. Fíli and Kíli were staring at Bilbo with wide grins while Balin gave him thumbs up with a smile. So, he bit the bullet, cleared his throat, and began.
“Listen, I apologize for the pebble business. I really did only mean it as a nice-looking gift and failed to comprehend that stones and the like have meanings to you dwarrow. I’m deeply sorry to have offended you, and I hope we can continue our journey on the morrow together as if nothing had happened.”
He finished his little speech, but noticed that his words didn’t seem to make the others much happier. Dori stared Bilbo down before nodding in acceptance, but most of the others were frowning now, in confusion and disappointment both. The princes and Balin exchanged a thoughtful look but didn’t say a word.
“Apology accepted, Master Baggins,” Dori got up and patted Bilbo on the back. “For the record, I really don’t care what you and a dwarf of your choosing do in private, but it was incredibly improper to do such a thing for everyone to see.”
“I’m sorry, I truly didn’t know,” Bilbo apologized again, “it won’t happen again.”
Dori patted his shoulder. “Good.”
It was then that Balin interfered. Coughing, he said “It is completely understandable, Master Baggins. We can’t expect you to be aware of all our dwarven customs. Though, perhaps it would be best if you went to Thorin with this,” he made a motion with his hand, “apology,” he sighed out as if it was as unpleasant of a concept to him as it is unpleasant for hobbits to suddenly have muddy footprints all over their carpet. Bilbo couldn’t shake the feeling that the old dwarf was disappointed, though of what, he couldn’t tell. So he nodded and started in the direction the dwarf pointed in.
-
Behind a few bushes, there was Thorin. He was sitting on a log, appearing to be deeply concentrated on whatever it was he was doing. He was whittling something, Bilbo guessed by the sounds of it, and all of a sudden he got an urge to creep up behind the dwarf and envelop him in a hug. It was so strong he had to shake his head to get it out. He cleared his throat so that Thorin would notice him, and notice him he did, whipping his head around so fast Bilbo couldn’t help but blink.
“Master Burglar,” Thorin said in a voice that was trying his damnedest to stay neutral, but Bilbo could hear how it shook and could see a faint dusting of red on Thorin’s face and ears, growing more pronounced with each passing second. Bilbo smiled upon the sight. He couldn’t help it, it was quite a lovely look on him. Not that Thorin wasn’t handsome otherwise, quite the opposite, really! But, mostly, he sported the majestic and unapproachable sort of beauty, fitting for a king bereft of a kingdom. Now, though, with his eyes as wide and as blue as the sky above, with crumpled clothing, leaves in his hair and a blush on his cheeks, he looked - lovely, really, and, rather charming and, Yavanna help him, even adorable, Bilbo thought. But never mind that.
“I have come to-”
“I don’t have it-”
They spoke at the same time, then stopped to stare at each other. Bilbo chuckled, as did Thorin, and soon they were chuckling together, eyes bright and mirthful. Thorin smiled at him, actually smiled at him, and Bilbo thought he could die a happy hobbit.
“I’m afraid you haven’t found me at the best time, Bilbo,” Thorin rumbled, getting up from where he was hunched over.
“I - I can come at another time, if you’d like,” Bilbo offered, becoming more and more flustered with each step Thorin took towards him, until they were nearly touching. Bilbo could’ve easily stepped away, of course, but he found his legs had different ideas and remained firmly planted on the ground. Only his knees wobbled as Thorin hummed, low in his throat. “That won’t be necessary. I find I can always make time for you.”
Yavanna and Mahal and all the higher beings that saw - Bilbo prayed to not lose his nerve and do something they’d both regret. But it was bloody hard, with Thorin right there, so close he could lift a hand and just. Put it on his chest and lean in and -
And Thorin looked like he’d welcome it, too! With that blasted soft look in his eyes and gentle smile and gorgeous hair falling over his shoulders just so -
Before he knew what happened, Bilbo’s waist was encircled by hands, large and warm, and Thorin’s face was suddenly a lot closer than before, and getting closer still -
Closer and closer until -
Until he felt a pair of lips upon his own, and promptly lost all common sense to the sensation.
He was so lost in the feeling he didn’t even think of reciprocating the kiss, and in a few moments that felt both longer and shorter than they should, it was all over. Bilbo was certain his own face was now matching Thorin’s blushing cheeks as the dwarf looked away, flustered, though he kept his hands around the hobbit’s waist. Bilbo blinked and put his hands on Thorin’s chest like he’d wanted to for some time now. “I - hm,” he cleared his throat, “that was quite… unexpected,” he said in a trembling voice. Now it was Thorin’s turn to blink. “…in a good way, I hope?” he asked in a voice equally unsure. Flustered, Bilbo nodded. “Yes, well. I’m certainly not complaining.” That made the dwarf smile once again, and Bilbo’s knees felt weak once again. Thorin’s hands travelled a little up his torso and he frowned a little when he felt something in Bilbo’s coat pocket. “Is this… ah,” he said as he fished out the pebble that has caused so much drama. He turned it over in his fingers, studying it appraisingly. “It really is a beautiful stone,” he declared with a smile. “I shall cherish it,” he said, putting it into his own pocket.
Bilbo blinked. “So, ah… you do want it after all?”
That made Thorin pause. “Yes, I rather thought that much was clear,” he frowned slightly. Bilbo squirmed. “That- that’s good! I mean, I’m happy that you like it,” he muttered, “Even though apparently it has some kind of meaning, but I have no idea what.”
Thorin froze.
Ah, was that a wrong thing to say? Damn and blast, Bilbo, the hobbit chastised himself. Things had been going so well, too!
The dwarf blinked at him, looking rather alarmed. He then promptly let Bilbo’s waist go and the hobbit wanted to whine at the loss. “Thorin?”
“Y-you-” the dwarf stuttered out as he took a couple steps backwards. “You didn’t know the meaning?”
Bilbo sighed. Dratted dwarves and dratted cultural differences! “No, obviously not, Thorin,” Bilbo sighed out, growing frustrated. “I’m no dwarf. I only thought it looked lovely and the colour reminded me of your eyes, so I thought I’d give it to you, since you dwarves like pretty rocks so much.”
“But- how- you didn’t complain!” Thorin stammered, face growing redder by the second. Bilbo quirked an eyebrow. “Didn’t complain about… what exactly?” he asked before the only possible answer dawned on him. “You mean about the kiss??” he said, not knowing whether to be horrified or start laughing when Thorin nodded, large hands shielding his face, but even so, Bilbo knew Thorin’s face could rival any of his father’s prized tomatoes. “Thorin?” Bilbo asked, grimacing when he heard his voice cracking. Thorin nodded, and when he finally lifted his hands from his face, Bilbo could see it holding embarrassment and frustration, but also a tinge of something else, something like… something akin to…
Thorin met his eye and quickly looked away. Sadness, or even - devastation?
“I must apologize, Master Baggins,” the dwarf king bowed so deeply Bilbo thought his forehead had to be touching the ground if he bowed just an inch more. “It seems there was a… misunderstanding, and I completely overstepped boundaries. I offer you my deepest apologies.”
Thorin, however, barely finished with his statement when he was yanked upright by his coat by a very frustrated hobbit, who looked him straight in the eyes.
“Thorin. What. Does. The rock. Mean?” Bilbo demanded, inching closer and closer to him with every word, so that he would not miss anything, any shadow of emotion crossing Thorin’s handsome face, and if he died for his audacity, then he’d die a happy hobbit, gazing into those gorgeous blue eyes and only inches away from the mouth that kissed his and - alright. Concentrate!
Thorin stared at him for a moment longer before looking away. Bilbo brought his other hand up and caught his chin as he did so, turning Thorin’s face back to him so that he would have no choice but to look him in the eyes. The dwarf’s eyes widened, glancing to Bilbo’s lips and up again as he whispered.
“Lust. Uhm. The rock, its colour, its shine and shape… everything about it means lust or, well,” he choked a bit, “desire. Passion.”
Bilbo opened his mouth, then closed it before opening it again. His brain was short-circuiting, not quite able to accept that piece of information.
But it all made sense, didn’t it? Everyone’s reactions, Thorin’s sudden show of affection…
“I must apologize again,” Thorin began, “I should have known you didn-”
The sentence was interrupted by lips upon his mouth and Bilbo’s hand winding up in his hair and tugging there gently. Thorin groaned as he felt a hot tongue against his mouth, and he responded by opening it, and soon he was sinking, sinking upon the grassy ground as they groaned and moaned and sighed and moved together.
When they finally broke apart for air, it felt like both an eternity and just a second had passed. Thorin’s lips were now a fetching shade of red, matching the rest of his face, and Bilbo smiled.
“Well. It was perhaps too public and straightforward a declaration than I would have chosen otherwise, but… it wasn’t untrue,” he said breathlessly, and Thorin responded with caressing Bilbo’s cheek gently before grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him closer for more of that sweet paradise they have discovered together.
"So I take it you like the rock?" Bilbo chuckled when they parted again. Thorin laughed, a rich, deep sound that sent shivers down Bilbo's spine, making him curl his toes in all of the emotions Thorin had named before. "It is a very pretty rock indeed," Thorin agreed, and for such praise Bilbo couldn't stop himself from kissing him again.