Stolen Kisses Emsiecat

Summary:

Oh my god this is probably the most syrupy sweet ending to a fic I've ever written. If you end up with cavities I'm not being held responsible!

Chapter Text

The first occurred shortly after leaving the Carrock and it was not so much a stolen kiss as an accidental kiss, but such minutiae could easily be ignored.

It seemed that Azog had sent a few of his scouts ahead some time before the incident outside the Goblin Tunnels. This meant that although they did not have to face the great white orc himself quite so soon after their last unpleasant meeting, there were a handful of his subordinates prowling the wilds and generally making their journey to Gandalf's friend's house all the more treacherous.

Their trail had been picked up a good few leagues from their destination, and at the eerie cry of wargs at their backs, Gandalf had urged them all to split up and hide, so as to help confuse their pursuers. None of them argued, all were still too battered from their time in the tunnels and the battle so soon after to try to pretend they would rather stand and fight.

Bilbo had run as fast as his feet could carry him, mildly surprised to find the dwarf king at his side, urging him onwards. Some way a way Bilbo could see Fíli and Kíli darting into a thicket, and further ahead Gandalf ushered young Ori up a tree whilst he ducked for cover behind a tumble of rock, staff held at the ready.

"We need to find somewhere to hide that is not too close to anyone else," Thorin grumbled, a hand pressed to his side as he forced himself on; his wounds must be bothering him.

Bilbo thought with a thrill of giddy hysterics threatening to spill from his lips, that this was rather like a game he used to play as a faunt in the Shire, albeit a great deal more deadly.

He had always been good at the game, often outlasting the other fauntlings with his superior hiding places and naturally quiet manner.

Let us hope I'm still as good as I used to be.

Off to his right, Bilbo spied a formation of rocks; an overhang or small cave of sorts, and casting propriety aside, he grabbed Thorin's wrist firmly, tugging him in the direction of the promising looking hiding place.

Somewhere in the distance, wargs howled again and orcs hooted, feral and chilling.

Pushing himself to run all the faster, Bilbo guided an exhausted looking Thorin up to the cave, and ushered him inside, before squeezing in himself.

It was a little bit smaller than he had anticipated unfortunately.

The pair of them had shuffled sideways as far back into the crevice as they could manage, and though gratified to find that they would be completely hidden from anything skulking about outside, they realised quite quickly that they could barely move in their hideaway.

Bilbo was mortified to find that they were facing one another, bellies and thighs all but pressed together, the distance restricted further with every ragged breath taken.

"A decent place to hide this is, well spotted, Master Baggins... a pity there is not more space however." Thorin's voice was barely audible, quiet and cautious lest they attract those who hunted them.

"Forgive me that transgression, Your Majesty. Perhaps next time we can run all the way to a comfortable little inn and that might be more to your tastes." Bilbo knew that in reality he was being rather unfair with his grumbled remark. Honestly though, he was exhausted, suffering a few minor injuries of his own, and running for his life yet again having had no sleep and very little food. So if Thorin Oakenshield was going to pinch and carp about the size of a hiding place then-

"Peace, Master Hobbit, I was merely making an observation, not berating your good work."

Well then... at least that was something. Their mighty leader could see reason on occasion it seemed.

Bilbo offered him a small smile, unsure if Thorin would even be able to see it in the gloom of their hiding place, and awkwardly attempted to make himself more comfortable. There was rock jabbing at him uncomfortably at his back and calf.

Hands braced on the stone either side of him, Thorin huffed and shook his head, moving one hand to Bilbo's shoulder to still his squirming. "No good, we won't be finding comfort here, Bilbo. We had best just stay as we are until the wizard calls us, we should remain quiet now too; no chatter," then as a gentle afterthought he added, "please."

The polite and quiet tone of that deep voice prevented Bilbo from making any further complaints, and so Bilbo attempted to relax as best he could, despite their uncomfortable proximity to one another.

How long they remained within their hiding place, Bilbo could not say. He could hear nothing from outside; not warg or orc, or worse still any cries for help from their companions. So after a time he dared to hope that maybe the warg scouts and their orcs had become tired of tracking multiple scents and simply given up for the time being.

It was just a little difficult to concentrate on anything other than Thorin either, given how close he was, and though Bilbo mentally chastised himself for such thoughts; the hobbit could not help but notice certain things. The warmth of Thorin's skin, the cool tickle of sweat damp hair falling around them like a curtain, the way the dwarf's breath stirred his curls and ghosted over his ear and neck.

How, if Bilbo so chose (and quite possibly had a death wish), he could slide his hands between them to rest palms against Thorin's chest, tilt his chin and-

A voice was calling from outside the cave. Both dwarf and hobbit started and tensed like rabbits in sight of a fox, and Bilbo felt Thorin's hand travel reflexively to the hilt of Orcrist at his hip.

Bilbo closed his eyes, reassuring fingers grazing Thorin's to prevent him from doing anything abysmally foolish, and listened carefully, ears twitching.

That was no orc.

Sighing, Bilbo felt nearly boneless with relief, and boldly gave Thorin's hand a quick squeeze before nodding towards the entrance of their hiding place. "It's Gandalf. He is calling for us to come out. The orcs have gone."

"Thank goodness." Thorin ducked his head with a sigh of his own, lips parted in a small grin as he confided quietly. "Without some rest and a bit of time to let these wounds heal, I strongly doubt I would survive another fight quite so soon after the other."

Bilbo swallowed, eyes widening in surprise at the admission. Surely, dwarves never admitted to feeling weakness... he had never seen or heard of one doing so before, so for Thorin to do so now...

"Balderdash, you'd come out victorious as you always do." Bilbo tried to encourage, and Thorin chuckled, but it was a slightly self-depreciating sound.

Not wishing to explore the topic further, Bilbo began to squirm again, attempting to wriggle towards the entrance of the cave. "Come along then, let's get out of here before they all think we were eaten or someth-"

He had misjudged his movements rather horribly, and in pushing himself up onto his toes to try to navigate his way free of the press of Thorin's body, he had inadvertently brought himself at the perfect height for their noses to brush one another and lips to press firmly.

Oh dear...

Both stared, eyes wide, and seemed trapped in the moment for longer than was probably wise.

It was only when Thorin parted his lips slightly and seemed willing to press back a little in return that Bilbo finally came to his senses and pulled himself away. Tongue darting out to wet his lips nervously, and oh, he should not have done that because Thorin's gaze flicked down to his mouth again and Bilbo was entirely unprepared for the wave of hot embarrassment that washed through his body.

"Right- so er... yes, let's go and join the others shall we?"

With some more awkward shuffling the pair was able to crab-walk to the entrance and finally emerge into daylight to the relieved cries of their Company.

"Took you long enough, didn' it?" Dwalin groused.

"I apologise for the inconvenience, as you can see it was a little difficult to get out of there." Thorin glowered at his shield brother.

"Aye, looks mighty cosy." This was from Bofur, the dwarf grinning far too broadly for the remark to be considered anything but salacious.

Bilbo spluttered and shot his friend a dark look, the action mirrored by Thorin, and Bofur backed away, hands raised in supplication but still grinning.

"Where are the orc filth now?" Thorin bit out, eager to change the topic and Ori answered promptly. Clearly, his vantage point in the tree had been useful.

"They skulked about for a bit, trying to smell us out, but as Gandalf predicted the trails were too numerous and they soon got bored of trying... not the most faithful of followers by the look of things. They headed back the way they came; I expect they're going to rejoin Azog."

Thorin nodded at the scribe and once again took command, ordering the Company on in hopes they could reach Gandalf's friend before the pack caught up with them once more.

"Oh aye, would be a real shame if you and the burglar had to snuggle up close in a cave together again any time soon. Seems like you thought it a real hardship." Bilbo often wondered if Bofur would dare speak this way to Thorin once he was properly crowned... and if so how long before someone would have him exiled from Erebor.

The hobbit tried his utmost not to blush whilst Thorin swore at the cheeky miner in Khuzdûl. Gandalf was chortling merrily nearby, and Bilbo pushed aside the foolish thought that the look Thorin sent his way some time after seemed to be a wistful one.

The second kiss was in Beorn's garden not two days later. And this time Bilbo could confidently say it was fine practice for his burglary skills.

Thorin had needed a little more medical attention than he had been willing to admit to on the way there, his condition not at all helped by their mad dash from the Carrock to Beorn's.

Óin had patched him up with a little more help from Gandalf and a healthier supply of healing salves courtesy of Beorn himself, and then shooed the king into the gardens to rest.

"Rest mind you. If I find out you've been sparring with Dwalin or chasin' about those fool nephews of yours I'll add a few more lumps to the ones you've already got."

Bilbo was not much for royalty and all that nonsense, but weren't they supposed to be a bit more respectful towards Thorin? The folk in all the stories he had read were at any rate.

Bilbo asked Gandalf that very question, and had felt rather offended when the wizard nearly choked on his pipe smoke through laughing.

"Dwarves are not so stern in their dealings with royalty as men are, Bilbo."

And Óin, who had a remarkable capacity for hearing what he wanted despite his apparent deafness, added, "Aye, and since I've known the lad since he was a scrap of a dwarfling hollerin' for sweets whenever I patched up his scrapes, I think it's my prerogative to boss him around a bit now."

Bilbo shook his head, quite amused at the mental image conjured of a very young Thorin trying to be imperious in his demands for sweets but only succeeding in coming across as a royal brat.

Óin was looking at Bilbo side long, and the hobbit began to feel a little uncomfortable, before the old healer carefully said. "He will try and overwork himself, I know him too well. Since we're off through Mirkwood in a few days that would be a bad idea. Don't s'pose you'd do an old dwarf a favour and go keep an eye on him, would you, laddie? Just make sure he doesn't try and do himself a mischief."

"Oh, well I-" Bilbo fumbled for an excuse but could not find one, and sighing heavily, gave Óin a quick nod. "Alright, yes. I'll go keep an eye on him."

"Wonderful!" Óin clapped him on the back hard enough to pitch Bilbo forward, and then went to go join his brother over at the breakfast table leaving the hobbit rubbing his now sore shoulder.

Keeping an eye on a stubborn dwarf king was surprisingly easier than he had expected. Bilbo had only just stepped outside into the garden when he found Thorin sprawled on the grass, arms pillowing his head as he slept.

Some distance away Fíli and Kíli were likely up to trouble, but their voices were quiet out of respect for their uncle, and Bilbo merely offered them a quick smile before settling himself beside Thorin.

Lying back in the grass beside their leader, Bilbo smiled up at the sky, sun warming his face as he closed his eyes.

Now if only the rest of their quest could be like this. He'd take dwarf king watching over dragon slaying any day.

Bilbo had not intended to fall asleep, but sleep he had. Warmed by the sun and lulled by the comforting presence of Thorin; Bilbo had drifted off and only woke when the evening chorus of birds began in the trees surrounding Beorn's home.

He sat up quickly, turning to check that Thorin had not wandered off, and was relieved to find that the dwarf was still beside him, snoring softly.

Well at least he had not failed Óin then.

Looking about him, Bilbo found that the rest of the dwarves had retired inside, and that he and Thorin were the only ones in the garden now.

It was nice, Bilbo decided, spending a peaceful time with the leader of their Company. No danger or stress for this small moment...

Bilbo glanced down at him and smiled softly.

Thorin was noble, the hobbit thought firmly to himself. Just and honourable and almost stupidly brave.

Handsome too...

The breath caught in Bilbo's throat and he shuffled where he sat, trying to ignore the thought that had come to him unbidden.

They were on a perilous quest and developing romantic feelings for another was probably the most ill advised thing he could do.

Still...

Bilbo was almost certain he had not imagined it. Back in the cave, when his lips had accidentally brushed Thorin's, the dwarf had pressed back almost as if...

Bilbo nibbled his lower lip apprehensively and cast another quick look about him.

Just one then... just this once and then he would never again think such foolish things.

Leaning over Thorin, Bilbo gently pressed his lips to the healing cut at the dwarf's forehead and, before he could think anything further of his actions, brushed his lips over Thorin's own as well.

When Bilbo stood and made a hasty departure inside, filled with self recrimination for his possibly unwanted actions, the hobbit failed to notice that Thorin had woken and was watching his retreating back with something akin to wonder and longing.

There was not much cause for kisses stolen or otherwise following their departure from Beorn's. What with the unpleasantness of Mirkwood, coupled with the spider attack and their subsequent capture by the elves, any such notion of kisses was almost laughable.

But a kiss was stolen all the same.

A soft promise passed from the hobbit to the dwarf that he would release them, and Bilbo found warm lips against his knuckles to be incredibly charming.

A harrowing barrel ride proved near deadly, and Thorin's head was still spinning from it when he was hauled out of the barrel by their burglar and Thorin felt a kiss placed sloppily against his cheek.

Shivers wracked Bilbo's frame as he recovered from the cold the river had so kindly gifted him with so close to their goal and he fretted and worried and pleaded with Thorin to carry on without him if need be.

He was told in no uncertain terms that he would not be left behind, that he was important.

Bilbo had scoffed and rasped jokingly that it was only his value as a burglar they needed, not his company.

A kiss against a fevered forehead might have been a dream, or it might have been real; Bilbo could not say. Though his last thoughts before he drifted off to sleep again was that Thorin looked lovely when he blushed.

Stolen kisses were not meant to be once they reached the mountain. Dragon sickness put paid to that.

Or so Bilbo had thought. Until he showed Thorin that acorn and the way he tried to drag Thorin back from the throes of his sickness through kind words and warm lips were all for naught when Dwalin interrupted to tell them Laketown survivors had arrived.

All spiralled out of control then; the betrayal of the Arkenstone, Thorin's wrath, the battle, and the aftermath.

There were no kisses for what seemed to be a very long time, and Bilbo was so fraught with worry that he found he could not care if Thorin hated him for all his days after this just so long as he and his nephews survived.

The next kisses were not ones stolen, but those gifted and cherished in equal measure as apologies and forgiveness were murmured quietly between breaths and touching lips.

More promises given; promises of love and to 'never ever do that again' and Thorin mumbled a quiet confession against Bilbo's lips, "I'm still too greedy, even after all you have endured I wish for you to stay with me, but my heart knows you should return home."

"This greed is the kind you need not fear or apologise for, Thorin. I want to stay; home would not be the same without you."

Healing took time, and even more time was needed to return Erebor to something of its former glory, but so long as they had one another and their friends, it was a joy more than a trial.

Kisses were given and stolen aplenty once Thorin was healed. A sight which had Thorin's nephews both whooping with joy and despairing of their 'sappy uncles'.

Kisses to cheeks and foreheads, as they left one another's company in the morning to aid with the restoration, kisses to hands and ears as they passed one another in the hallways. Lips nuzzled into hair and into the crooks of necks as they curled together reading or eating or relaxing after a long day, and kisses to lips. Many, many kisses to lips that neither felt they would ever tire of: quick and chaste or slow and languid. Passionate, silly and laughing, any kiss they could bestow they took and treasured and considered each and every one a blessing.

Stolen kisses were no longer needed after a time; for every kiss thereafter was given freely and with as much joy as two hearts could contain.