Mead Makes for Loose Lips

Credit goes to Fantasyinallforms on AO3

Summary:

Celebrations after reclaiming Erebor lasted weeks. The day after the battle, Dains's men started to clear the mountain to make room for people to settle. They uncovered an entire room in the kitchens filled with untouched barrels of mead. They immediately cracked one open, and the party began. They had much to celebrate. The war had been won, the elves had gotten their diamond trinkets, and the humans had enough money to start rebuilding their livelihoods. Now the dwarves of Erebor could focus on what the future held for themselves. But not before drinking themselves into a stupor first. Even the King of Erebor was not exempt from the festivities, though his mind was not on their victory but on a future he might have ruined his chance at ever having.

come get your drunken love confessions with a side of pining!

Celebrations after reclaiming Erebor lasted weeks. The day after the battle, Dains's men started to clear the mountain to make room for people to settle. They uncovered an entire room in the kitchens filled with untouched barrels of mead. They immediately cracked one open, and the party began. They had much to celebrate. The war had been won, the elves had gotten their diamond trinkets, and the humans had enough money to start rebuilding their livelihoods. Now, the dwarves of Erebor could focus on what the future held for themselves. But not before drinking themselves into a stupor first. Even the King of Erebor was not exempt from the festivities, though his mind was not on their victory but on a future he might have ruined his chance at ever having.

The bottom of a bottle probably wasn't the smartest place to be when your entire soul yearned for the mere presence of a single person. Thorin emptied his second mug of mead and looked into the crowd. As always, his eyes drifted effortlessly to Bilbo. He was sitting on top of a table with a mug far too big for him, loudly telling a story to a captivated audience. They were enamored by him, and why wouldn't they be? Everyone heard from his own lips how integral Bilbo had been to their quest, how he saved Thorin's life on numerous occasions. Thorin got up to fill his cup and found Dain doing the same.

"Eyyy, there ya are, cousin! Why do you look so damn glum! Even when we were kids, you couldn't help a good brooding session. The war is over! Drink your fill and have some fun. There's plenty of company here to be had!" Dain broke into a raucous laugh and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Thorin rolled his eyes and let out a huffing laugh. No company would be warming his bed this night or any other night. The thought of a tumble in the sheets with a dwarf might have once been an entertaining idea, but no longer. He could not imagine wanting anyone other than Bilbo under him in the small hours. That pleasantly plump body and adorably round face and perfect slightly upturned nose. Being as down the bottle as he was, his mind could not concentrate on the thoughts in his head, walking and drinking simultaneously. He tripped and sloshed half his mead down the front of his tunic.

"Careful there, laddie. This mead's been sitting for 60 years; she's a strong brew." Dain's boisterous laughter turned the heads of the tables nearest to them, which included Bilbo's.

"Perfect timing! Our brave Kings of legend! Fearsome leader of the great dwarven clans himself! And the king of the Iron Hills who came to Erebor's rescue!" Bilbo had lept up on the table and dipped into a low bow. Thorin didn't like seeing Bilbo bow to him or anyone. Bilbo shouldn't bow to people. People should bow to him. He should be decked out in only the finest the world had to offer and treated like royalty. The hobbit before him had no idea how much power he wielded. Bilbo remained blissfully unaware that he could have a king on his knees for him with only a single command. There was nothing Thorin would deny him. To his dismay, there was also nothing Bilbo seemed to want from him.

Bilbo righted himself from the bow and stagged back. Thorin heard another dwarf, one of Dain's men, shout.

"Best get down before you fall down, laddie!" another dwarf at the table shouted. "My laps a safe place land!" Bilbo seemed none the wiser to the catcall, so the dwarf put his weight on the table, tipping it so the hobbit would stumble to the side. Bilbo lost his balance, dropped his cup, and landed directly in the dwarf's arms. The grabby dwarf's hands went straight to Bilbo's hips to keep him in place. Thorin was fuming. He slammed his mug down on the table in front of the dwarf, causing him to jump, then plucked Bilbo from his lap. For good measure, he knocked the rest of his mead over and into the dwarf's lap. Thorin walked them to another table before reluctantly setting him down.

"You save the day again." Bilbo giggled. "Better watch out, or I'll become dependent on you." Bilbo was a mess. This state was far beyond anything he had seen him in before. He could barely form full sentences. Thorin pulled the cup he had managed to get his hands on from Bilbo's clutch and set it out of reach.

"I wouldn't mind you becoming dependent on me." Thorin mumbled, "But right now, you should find somewhere safe to lie down." Bilbo looked like he was going to protest but slumped forward instead, so his head rested on Thorin's chest. Thorin was too intoxicated to resist leaning into the gesture. He brought his hand up and glided his fingers through the curls on the side of Bilbo's head. Perhaps he would feel guilty in the morning, considering he was enacting this bold gesture in the middle of a room full of dwarrow. There was a part of him that wanted others to see. He wanted the room to know that this hobbit was off-limits. Bilbo was to be touched by the king's hand only.

"Can you walk on your own?" Thorin rumbled. Bilbo didn't lift his head; he just shook it from side to side. "Are you ok with me carrying you?" Thorin had moved his hands to rest on Bilbo's upper arms.

"I don't wanna be an inconvenience or a burden. You can leave me here." half the words Bilbo said were sloppy, but he heard 'inconvenience and burden' clear as day. Did Bilbo really think that's how Thorin saw him even after all this time?

"Hey, look at me. It's unsafe to just nap on a table in the great hall. I think I've drunk my fill anyhow." Thorin lifted Bilbo off the table, and he didn't protest. Bilbo's legs wrapped around his middle, and his hands went around his neck. Thorin was incredibly careful where he put his hands. The press of Bilbo's body against his was doing things to his mind that had nothing to do with the alcohol in his system. Bilbo would never have to worry about being safe with him. He would rather fall on his own blade than enact his will on someone unwilling or impaired. His body, however, was threatening to give away the evidence of his rampant desire. Thorin tried to slow his breathing, and it almost worked before Bilbo all but moaned in his ear.

"Why do you always smell so good?" Thorin tensed. Thankfully he was holding Bilbo above his waistline at this moment. Best, he gets out of the hall and get Bilbo to bed. He was near the doors when Dwalin stopped him.

"Headed out for some fun? It's about damn time." Thorin turned to give him an incredulous look. "I'm your bodyguard and best friend; don't look so surprised," Dwalin chuckled. Thorin let out a huff.

"No, he drank too much. I'm just putting him safely in bed."

"If safety is the issue your room is the only one in Erebor that has active guards posted to it. Where do you intend to sleep tonight?" Dwalin knit his brow

"On the floor, if I have to," Thorin replied. He switched to speaking in khuzdul so that Bilbo would not hear what he said next. Not that Bilbo seemed particularly coherent for the conversation thus far. "Oh, and one other thing. You saw the dwarf that pulled Bilbo into his lap?" Dwalin shook his head in confirmation. "I want him working third-shift patrols for the next three months." Dwalin nodded in agreement.

"Consider it done." Thorin carefully walked them back to his room. It was the only full room yet recovered. Most of the company had set up in one of the open abandoned halls, and Dain's men would spend the night in their tents. Or perhaps more likely, they would sleep where they lay after a night of near non-sop drinking. Thorin sat Bilbo on the edge of his bed and removed his hands from under his legs. Bilbo, however, did not remove his hands from Thorin's neck.

"This is your bed; you should lay on it too. It's plenty big enough for the both of us." Bilbo tugged at the sleeves of his tunic, pulling him forward. The invitation was tempting; he struggled against it as if it were being offered a pile of dragon gold.

"Please don't ask that of me," Thorin choked. He was surprised at the melancholy look Bilbo was now giving him.

"Does the idea repulse you?" Bilbo pulled his knees back, retreating in on himself.

"No, not at all. Quite the opposite."

"Then why?"

"Because you're worse than gold to me, Bilbo! I'm afraid if you give me a taste of what it could be like to be near you, then I will beg for a whole meal, and I know you can not give me that. I couldn't condemn you to a life of rock and stone. I could not ask you to abandon the life you love to rule a broken kingdom at my side. I could not beg for your affection after nearly killing you in madness only days ago. You deserve rolling hills and a gentle lover. I can give you neither of those things." He brought his hand up to Bilbo's cheek on reflex, never letting himself actually touch the warm, smooth skin beneath his hands. "I would not have you resent me for keeping you from true happiness even if I spent the rest of my days yearning for you." Thorin felt raw. The alcohol in his system had lowered his guard, making him especially forthcoming, but at this moment, he felt sober. To his surprise, Bilbo leaned into his hand, forcing contact. Thorin nearly whimpered.

"You don't get to choose for me what I decide my happiness looks like. Right now, happiness looks like laying down with the only person who's ever made me feel truly safe." Bilbo was half coherent. He pulled on Thorin's tunic again, and he could not resist a second time. They slipped under the covers. Thorin's arms wrapped around Bilbo as if it was the most natural thing to do, like a reaction he didn't know he had developed. Bilbo nestled himself under Thorin's chin. "See, you're plenty gentle."

Thorin lay there long after Bilbo's small snores filled the room. He had never prayed to a Valar other than his maker before. Now he closed his eyes and prayed to Yavanna, Vala of all things green and growing, to allow one of her children to be happy living among her husband's creations.