Chtuluchilipie Chapter 2: Saturn

Summary:

Bilbo is forced to raise a young Frodo on his own, due to circumstance he can't help. Raising a three year old on your own can make relationships very difficult, but nothing is set in stone.

Bilbo simply wasn't able to have a relationship. It wasn't because he didn't want one, as he very much did want a romance. And it wasn't for a lack of trying either, if any of his previous relationships were anything to go off of. He simply wasn't able to.

He didn't have time for Glorifindel anymore, and goodness knew that if he didn't have time for his steady boyfriend of 4 years, he definitely did not have time for seeing anyone new.

His time was otherwise occupied for what would be a very long while, since 18 years didn't tend to pass in a wink. But that was the legalities of it,since he was officially a guardian for nearly two decades, but he thought it would be longer than that. When you became a parent, you became a parent for life. Or at least that's how he felt.

Because he was a father now. And being a father meant dropping everything for your child. The minute that baby was in his arms, he knew he would give the world just for that small little dark haired boy to be safe and happy. Bilbo's own personal wants and needs were second to his son's now. Which meant he didn't have time for romance anymore, he needed to be potty training, not dry humping. Even if he wanted to have sexy-times, he couldn't, the minute he adopted Frodo, he made that very clear to Glorifindel, and they very quickly broke up. Things between them were already beginning to deteriorate, and Bilbo knew that Frodo was a perfect excuse to pull out of a relationship that wasn't working out for very much longer anyway. Besides from that, Bilbo had no regard for relationships when he was raising a child, and more than once he had to turn very nice and very handsome men down.

His own mother had put her entire life on hold for him when he'd been born, taking a break from her adventurous lifestyle, settling down in Hobbiton, and raising him to the best of her abilities. No matter how much she loved protesting deforestation in South America, or hiking in the Alps, or participating in military coups, she dropped it all; her exciting life full of foreign affairs and adventures, just for little old boring Bilbo. Bilbo felt like he owed it to the world to be the same sort of parent to Frodo.

He knew the circumstances weren't exactly the same, considering Frodo wasn't his son biologically speaking, and he also hadn't made the decision to have unprotected sex with someone...but the point is mute. Primula and Drogo had died in a terrible car accident, and Bilbo–despite not being catholic, was Frodo's godfather. It had only made sense for him to become the legal guardian, as Prim had even indicated in her will, should something happen to her and her husband. And when Bilbo had seen that poor little baby, crying for a mother who was torn away from him, he knew he couldn't just let some distant relative come in and claim the boy. At least Frodo had already known Bilbo, and wouldn't be terribly out of sorts.

Sometimes though, on then especially hard days, Bilbo closed his eyes and bitterly wished that Prim hadn't died, hadn't left him with this baby. Despite this, he loved Frodo dearly, and couldn't imagine a life without the three-year old, no matter how hard it would be. Besides he was a Baggins, and that meant he wouldn't shirk from his duties or his vows. He would always stand by Frodo to the best of his ability, even if it cost him his general wellbeing. He would sacrifice it all for the lad.

His piece of mind included.

Frodo wouldn't stop crying. He really wouldn't. No matter what Bilbo did, the fussy three-year old would only pause and stare at him for a moment, before bawling his eyes out again. It was becoming quite embarrassing too, since they were on an airplane, and people were beginning to give him dirty looks. The plane hadn't even been completely boarded yet, and already Frodo was throwing a fit.

Bilbo tried shushing him, bouncing him on his knee, but the bawling baby only squealed and sobbed, heaving heavy breaths with tears streaking down his red face. Bilbo pushed his dark curls back on his head, and started to hum him a lullaby, which really did nothing but earn another disgusted look from the lady across the aisle. Flustered now, Bilbo handed him his bottle, only to curse underneath his breath when Frodo pushed it away and onto the floor. Sighing, Bilbo handed him his favorite toy, the rag doll of an angry dwarf king with long dark hair, a short beard, an an eternal scowl. Personally Bilbo thought the toy very peculiar, but Frodo absolutely adored it, and refused to go anywhere without it. Usually the sight of the scowling dwarf toy made Frodo beam and grin, but he threw it on the aisle floor.

Muttering to himself, Bilbo tried to place the squirming toddler down in his car seat, but Frodo squealed again and latched himself onto Bilbo, refusing to let go and let Bilbo retrieve the toy. Sighing, Bilbo tried to grab the toy, but quickly found he couldn't reach very far when a 32 pound three year old squirmed and bawled in his lap.

Much to his surprise, and mild embarrassment, he found the toy being picked up by a concerned-looking air-hostess. (Was that what they were called? Or was it stewardess? Bilbo really didn't know, and really couldn't bring himself to care. He was just incredibly moved by the kindness of the woman, who'd actually dared to help him instead of giving him dirty looks.)Face reddening, he thanked the red-haired woman, who'd only given him a soft smile and a pitying pat on the shoulder. Meanwhile, Frodo still wasn't settling down, and threw his dwarf toy again. And this time, there was no way in hell that Bilbo could reach. Internally cursing the tantrums of children, he fussed, trying to figure out how to grab the toy without upsetting Frodo further. Trying to sit his adopted child back into his car seat, he heard a very loud and very masculine ahem.

"Ah. Sir, I believe your child is in my seat."And it was all Bilbo could do not to scream and burst into tears that would definitely put Frodo to shame. Turning around, with what would have been a very long and embarks on rant, he met the eyes of what must have been the most beautiful man he'd ever seen.

Tall, dark and handsome. He wore a simple black button down, as well as some tight black pants that would no doubt make his ass look fantastic. He had a large fur rimmed coat attached to his carry-on, and Bilbo wondered how on earth the man got away with that. His hair was dark, almost jet, but white at the temples, pulled back into a low ponytail that was just begging to be released and combed through with fingers. (Preferably Bilbo's) He had a thick and short beard, recently clipped, but just on the right side of untamed, reminding Bilbo of a lumberjack. His eyes, when Bilbo finally met them, were the most spectacular shade of sapphire blue that he'd ever seen, so startling and eerily familiar that he lost his breath for a moment.

The man blinked down at him, a brief annoyed look crossing his face. "Sir? Your child. He's in my seat."

Bilbo sprung back into action, face flaming the entire time. Holding his breath, and attaching a still wailing Frodo to his hip, he quickly moved Frodo's car seat so that he was no longer by the window, instead placing him one over, just between him and the gorgeous stranger. Still flushed and breathless, he stepped back to let the gorgeous man sit, flush deepening when he saw how correct he had been about those pants.

Placing Frodo down in his seat, Bilbo leaned over quickly and grabbed the dwarf toy, handing back to Frodo. The toddler squeezed it in his hand and continued wailing, leaving Bilbo to wonder why he'd been able to cry for such an extended amount of time. Shouldn't the little tyke tired out by now?

Reaching into his carry on, Bilbo whipped out another toy, a really annoying one Bilbo only used in dire situations. Once Frodo pressed the button on the light up whatever-it-was, a extremely annoying song would start, and Frodo would press it again. And again. And again. And again, for the next hour or so. Bilbo was both pleased and dismayed when Frodo pushed the toy away.

Chancing a glance at their seat neighbor only made Bilbo's embarrassment worsen. The man looked amused at what was happening next to him. Quickly, so quickly Bilbo wasn't even quite sure it happened, the man smiled at Frodo, face lighting up, teeth gleaming, and eyes crinkling, grinning down at the baby with a true joy. Immediately, Frodo stopped crying, instead he stared up in wonder, and giggled of all things.

"Are you a king?" The three-year old asked, completely enchanted by the man.

With a sober look on his face, the man shook his head. "Not anymore, azyungal."

"What happened?" Frodo asked, unfazed when Bilbo wiped some of his tears from his face and strapped him into his car seat.

Then the man smiled again, softer this time, and began a tale that had both father and son awed.

Years later, when Bilbo woke in the middle of the night, feeling cold from the lack of absence of Thorin's body heat, he would always find Frodo curled up onto Thorin's chest, his husband singing quietly of mountains far away in a land mostly forgotten. It was a marvel to him, that both he and his son had fallen in love with Thorin so quickly and completely.

But that's how true love worked.