Sweet, Literal Nothings LordOfTheRazzles

Summary:

Ever since that hug upon the Carrock, Fili, Kili, and the rest of the company are always asking themselves: what is going on with Thorin and Bilbo? Across the campsite, sitting nice and cozy next to one another, the two individuals in question have another way of looking at it: how can we mess with the Company?

If you had asked any member of the company at the beginning of this journey about Thorin's feelings towards their fourteenth man, a hobbit of all creatures, every single one would have answered with disdain. Or at least that was how it had appeared. A deliberate distance between dwarf king and burglar, and now that line had been blurred into something curious and undefined.

Something that was a hot topic of discussion every night around the fire between most of the company–save for two who were nice and close just on the outer circle of the camp.

"What do you suspect they're talking about?" Fili asked, nudging his brother with his elbow.

"I don't know, Fee, but they're like this every night," Kili sighed, rubbing at his chin and studying the duo from afar. That studious expression clicked away quickly, lunging forward and clapping Dwalin on the shoulder who was seated in front of them, sharpening one of his axes. "As Thorin's number one confidant, you've got to know. Has Uncle finally changed his tune about our burglar?"

"Changed his tune tremendously," Fili chuckled, mirroring Kili's movements and leaning forward to appear at Dwalin's other shoulder. "You can tell us, he won't ever know."

Dwalin's repetitive motions in sharpening one of his axes, Grasper, came to an abrupt halt. Not once had he lifted his eyes during these discussions and speculations among company members, especially not between the young heirs, but today was different. Something in the boys' words were needling at his nerves in an agitated way. His eyes lifted, staring at the auburn haired thief of a dwarf across the fire who was simply smirking in his direction. Making eye contact with Nori was always an invitation for the worst to come, and today, Dwalin regretted it almost immediately.

"Go on, Dwalin. Spill the juicy bits, unless you don't want the princes to hear about actual juicy bits being spilled—"

"Doh! You be quiet!" Dori whispered loudly, his palm slapping Nori upside the head and earning a sound of agitation in response. "That's no kind of talk for the campfire."

"Much as I'd love to argue that we're of age for this kind of talk," Fili hesitated, scratching at his head while Kili's face lowered to his propped knees, "I think I'm with Dori. I don't think I want to hear about that."

"Please no..." Kili whined.

"That's not what it is, anyway," Dwalin interjected gruffly, irritation practically oozing in his voice as his eyes dropped back to his weapon sharpening. "If that's what it was, it'd be more obvious."

"What makes you say that?" Kili asked, raising his head after forcing the unwanted erotic images from his mind.

"Because your uncle isn't subtle," Dwalin grouched, "he might seem like it, or think he is, but there is nothing subtle about him, and I'm surprised neither one of you noticed that before." Thorin was a passionate sort. A little reserved some days, and headstrong, but he felt deeply. Those closest to the dwarf had to know that in their own way.

Fili and Kili shifted in their seats, staring more intently towards their uncle and fourteenth man, trying to study them a bit harder.

"I can read lips," Kili insisted, nudging his elbow against Fili and scooting forward a bit in his seat. "Peaches?"

Humming to himself in thought, Fili wasn't quite sure about the reliability of his younger brother, but there was something strange in what words he was potentially picking up on.

...

"Mother used to make the best peach tarts in all the Shire," Bilbo explained, a grin across his lips that didn't need to be forced. "Father used to drone on and on about them, and I always felt my summer berry tarts could never live up to the legacy, but I'll have you know, I've won many a ribbon for those tarts!"

"You truly are a hobbit of your craft." A chuckle reverberated from Thorin' chest, his shoulders shaking in genuine delight as he shifted a bit from the log he and Bilbo were seated on, inching closer. "Dis makes this wonderful cinnamon spiced bread, and she'll not let me anywhere near food when it comes to preparation. It's been called...flavorless, or deadly."

"All you need is a little practice, anyone can learn." Dusting the fur of Thorin's coat and tugging at the fabric a bit to straighten it out, Bilbo practically fluttered his eyes, staring at the blues so focused on him so fondly in return. "If only you could see the looks on your nephews' faces," he teased, giving the coat a small tug.

"I suppose you'll just have to tell me, then."

"Well," Bilbo started, his eyes barely flickering to get a proper look towards the dwarves on the opposite end of the camp, he could see just fine staring just slightly past Thorin. "Kili looks like a vein may pop in his forehead from staring so hard, and Fili might pass out."

"Serves them right," Thorin huffed, a bubble of amusement and warmth settling into his chest. "For all the times they've teased you, and all the times they've heckled me since their respective births..." the dwarf trailed, something impish in his eyes. It was a true sign that he was, indeed, related to Fili and Kili.

"A little karma goes a long way?"

"Precisely."

There was something amusing in seeing Thorin so hellbent on teasing his nephews in a somewhat subtle manner. The fact that Bilbo had gone right along with it had spoken volumes for the hobbit's diminishing sense of propriety.

It wasn't so difficult, giving in to Thorin's more silly behavior. Those two troublesome dwarves deserved a little heckling in return, after all! Which said nothing of those little flutters in Bilbo's chest anytime Thorin decided to look at him like that. The way their eyes locked, or their hands brushed in an act of flirtation, it had the hobbit's cheeks blooming against his wishes, but part of him couldn't be arsed to care.

They'd come a long way from where they'd started, hadn't they? From a grocer in the eyes of the dwarf king to...what? Someone Thorin thought could hold his own? Who had determination and drive just as any of these dwarves did? Someone to respect? The thought sent Bilbo's heart fluttering again, half tempted to ask that very question.

However, the bumbling words that ended up coming out of his mouth were far from the question he wanted to ask.

"When are we going to tell them?" Though the tilt of Thorin's head displayed confusion, Bilbo quickly retracted his hands from the dwarf's coat, a burn crawling across his face as he began to fidget. "Ah, I mean, you know, that all of this is just..." A ruse, Bilbo thought to himself, and his heart began to plummet, feeling like it was going to fall into the pit of his stomach.

While Thorin understood exactly where Bilbo was going with it, his posture and expression did not falter. Both still holding a level of relaxation that he wasn't usually prone to. It was comforting. Being near Bilbo was comforting.

"We don't have to," Thorin began, his eyes dropping to watch Bilbo's hands fidget, namely how his fingers trembled and tapped, and occasionally shot up to move some hair away from his face. Leaning forward and catching one of those fidgety hands in his own, right next to the hobbit's face, Thorin let his thumb idly brush Bilbo's cheek while giving that small hand a gentle squeeze. "Unless you would prefer these conversations to stop?"

"Oh! I didn't mean to imply—I wasn't sure what you—" Clearing his throat, Bilbo inhaled deeply to collect his thoughts, and keep his tongue from wagging uncontrollably. "I don't know what to say," he admitted, practically gravitating towards the dwarf in front of him. Their knees bumped, hands still intertwined, and eyes locked.

"Well, if you're open to the idea, I'd like to continue these conversations. I find your tales of the Shire to be...refreshing, and charming, much like yourself." Sliding his hand away from Bilbo's, his thumb and forefinger settled just beneath the hobbit's chin. "If you still don't know what to say, you can just nod."

A small pang of anxiousness shot its way through Thorin's entire body. He had never been the most savvy when it came to reading emotions, and that was worrisome. What if he had been reading the signs all wrong from Bilbo? If there were any signs at all! Perhaps the hobbit had just been kind, channeling that ever reputable hobbit way of dealing with outsiders—in the most polite way possible.

"I apologize," He muttered, pulling his hand back and letting a small breath of nervous amusement breeze past his lips, Thorin was immediately regretting his more forward behavior. "I should have been more direct from the start, and gone about things the right way. Courtship is not my forte, nor am I certain of hobbit customs, but if I've disrespected you—" He continued to babble, right up to the point where a set of smaller hands cupped the sides of his face, pulling him down slightly, and promptly getting the dwarf to shut up.

"Shush! I would love to continue speaking with you like this, Thorin," he said. Clearing his throat and pulling back slightly, Bilbo might have lost a bit of the stammering, but his nerves did continue to swirl in knots. "But I have to ask...when? When did our dynamic truly change?" Though he had an inkling of an idea considering the dwarf's hardened exterior melting over the course of the quest thus far, Bilbo wanted to hear it in Thorin's own words.

"Our dynamic as you call it has never been carved in stone, never set one way or another," Thorin mused, a softer expression taking over his features to melt away the nerves. "To put it simply, you gained my attention from the moment I walked through your door, but—"

"You sure have a funny way of showing it!" Bilbo scoffed playfully, "Calling me a grocer, that's hardly a way to woo someone, Thorin."

"Let me finish," Thorin sighed, shaking off Bilbo's deliberate teasing and trying to get his words back on track.

"But?" Bilbo asked, arching a brow and finding the blush dusting Thorin's cheeks and nose to be a delightful color that made those sky blue eyes pop.

"But," the dwarf drawled for a moment longer than he liked, "it was after the ordeal with the goblins that I knew it was more than a fleeting fancy." Both anxious and eager, Thorin shifted forward once more, a sense of urgency to his voice, wanting to explain a bit further. "You could have returned home at any point in our journey, and yet, your determination to see us home was more than most had ever given me before." Even his own people had turned away from Thorin's request in helping reclaim the mountain, which made him settle for this foolish quest in retrieving the Arkenstone simply to call upon aid properly.

Bilbo had no real reason to tag along, it was obvious he lived comfortably, and wasn't a greedy sort where a fourteenth share would have swayed him, but perhaps the thrill of adventure. It was admirable to Thorin, just as it was attractive. "Loyalty, honor, and a willing heart." These were traits that Thorin had practically embedded on his heart, and Bilbo was a picture-perfect display of those three things. The hobbit made those words across his heart practically sing nearly from the start.

"You're far more charming now when you're not so closed off, you know. We'll work on your flirting techniques though, don't worry." Bilbo teased, latching his arms around the dwarf in a hug just as comfortable, as the one atop the Carrock.

As if on cue, a loud groan from the fire pit sounded off, spurring Bilbo into glaring over Thorin's shoulder, and making direct eye contact with the two heirs of Durin.

"Get a bedroll, why don't you!" Nori whistled, causing another displeased groan to echo across the campsite.

Snorting, Bilbo pulled his head back, keeping his hands woven through the furs of Thorin's coat. "But just to be clear, we're still going to purposely irritate the boys though, yes?"

Leaning forward to press a kiss to the side of Bilbo's head, Thorin couldn't help the low rumble of a laugh that went straight to the hobbit's twitchy ear. "I would love nothing more," he hummed, though he couldn't deny how tempting it was to finish off his words with the verbal admission of him loving something—or someone—more.