The unfortunate thing about traveling, Bilbo decides as he lies staring up at the cavern roof, is the 'luxury' of always sleeping in the most uncomfortable places. In fact, a large majority of the time Bilbo finds himself swallowing dirt in the morning, twigs violating his every orifice, hanging rather precariously from a tree or even, on the rare occasion, an animal of some sort deciding he seems to possibly taste positively delicious.
Fortunately, although sometimes that is debatable, he is traveling with a large amount of Dwarves who all see it fit to decide that he is the runt of the litter and thus needs to be mothered more than he mothers them. Really, it is quite frustrating sometimes, other times it's plain brilliant because who doesn't want to be surrounded by mad dwarves out for blood when you get a single nick on the arm? But now is not a brilliant time, oh no, now is one of those insufferable times where Bilbo is being beyond mothered and practically suffocated.
Okay, yes he is the smallest, yes he does wear the least clothing, yes they did just get caught in a downpour that would make a drooling troll proud, yes Bilbo is completely soaked to the bone, yes they did find shelter in a drafty cavern, and yes he is shivering because of the cold.
But that does not mean he needs all thirteen of the dwarves shoving him on the ground and practically cocooning him with their own bodies!
Bilbo resists the urge, for what feels like the hundredth time, to groan. Having already been told off by Dwalin once, had a smack to the head by Gloin and been asked by Fili if he was having a rather 'personal' dream or something for creating such noises, definitely puts one off wanting to make much noise. But he is truly uncomfortable as the feeling of axe handles and heavy armor poking into his body, beards and hair of all colours and textures crawling over his face and frankly, the hard rock on his back is terrible. Not for the first time does he wish he could be back in the Shire, with a nice bed and a vacancy of snoring and drooling dwarves around him. It would be lovely, beyond lovely and downright perfect.
But no, it isn't like he can extract himself from them anyway. On one side lies Fili and Kili, the latter splayed out on his brothers chest with one arm flopping over Bilbo's own and clenching Bilbo's shirt with a tight fist which makes the hobbit almost swear when his bare skin is pushed into the open air by Kili accidentally yanking his shirt up. He'd thought to waken Kili, but the punch to the face Ori had gotten the other day for doing such a thing really makes him change his mind. Speaking of, Ori is curled up around his leg, hands placed on his thigh as his head rests on Fili's hips, but it wasn't the position that makes it uncomfortable, but the fact every time Ori breathes it hits the patch of exposed skin on his waist, tickling him and driving him into a near giggling mess as he pushes aside the urge to wriggle uncontrollably. Bofur is wrapped around his legs, holding down a blanket that the dwarves had agreed was the only dry one and it should go to Bilbo. It'd started off around the hobbit's chest, but Bofur, who'd been lying over Bilbo in the most catastrophic way, had slid down with it and bunched it up to form a sort of pillow across Bilbo's knees.
He doesn't know if it's cute or not, but he does know it restricts his leg movement, driving him insane.
Dwalin and Balin are above him, their sides pressed into the top of his head as well as the brothers lying beside him. Gloin and Oin are sprawled over top of the previous two, snoring loudly. Nori and Dori are curled around Bofur, with Nori's hand clutching Bofur's hat having dislodged it during sleep. Bomfur and Bifur are curled up in a tangle of messy limbs behind their King… who is lying directly beside Bilbo.
Normally, the hobbit wouldn't have a problem being so close to the King, not at all, but the way he's lying is driving Bilbo up the wall. One arm is stretched out, originally to tug on Fili's mustache for asking Bilbo the inappropriate question, but the King had fallen asleep and left the arm there for Bilbo to awkwardly use as a pillow. It's comfortable, the part that isn't decked out in armor, and Bilbo loves nuzzling his head into Thorin's fur covered elbow. But that still doesn't make up for how uncomfortable it is that Thorin is on his side and turned towards him, his face right there to look at if Bilbo were to tip his head back, almost close enough for him to brush his nose against the Thorin's chin. It's a bit disconcerting, but even then that can't compare to the Thorin's hand resting lightly on the even wider expanse of revealed skin on Bilbo's side. Well, it had been resting lightly until he'd moved a bit quickly to get away from Ori's breathing and Thorin had suddenly wrapped his whole hand around his waist, and it was hard to believe he had that small a waist compared to a dwarfs hand, to tug him closer. The thumb stroking his skin had done it all in for Bilbo though, and he now lies there desperately hoping for dawn to come around sooner. Or for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
Though, he'd probably come face to face with bloody goblins again. Then again… that might be better than his current situation. At least goblins he can stab with a non-guilty conscious.
"Stop thinking and go to sleep."
He refuses to think that the deep voice actually made him shiver. Nope, no way, physically impossible that. But despite that he can't help but turn his head to look up at Thorin, trying not to jump when he sees the dark eyes looking blearily down at him. Bilbo's breath hitches in throat as he watches him, eyes trailing over Thorin's face with wonder, lingering on the beard and lips, before the dwarfs hand on his waist clenches and he almost yelps in surprise.
"I said stop Halfling, you're giving me a headache."
Thorin doesn't answer, giving Bilbo a brief glare before he closes his eyes again, sleep wanting to take him. Bilbo feels the way he's stroking Bilbo's skin lightly though, and he knows Thorin is still awake.
"I can't sleep," he finally mumbles after a few moments silence, when the stroking has dwindled down to barely existent and Thorin's breathing has become slower. But his speaking out makes Thorin's thumb speed up in it's gentle stroking again and Thorin's eyes open halfway.
"And why is that, Little One?"
Bilbo refuses to blush at the nickname, he's always said he hated it but when Thorin says it… well that could be analyzed later, right?
"I… I don't know," Bilbo finally manages to mutter, "I mean, I'm comfortable, but not really, and my brain is just-"
"You're thinking too much, stop."
"Easier said than done."
"It will be easier when you are comfortable. Sleep will come to you."
"But… I don't-"
"Move, Halfling. The others will not wake."
Bilbo is doubtful, utterly doubtful, especially when the others are all on him in some way and the only comfortable position for him would be to roll on his side. He glances up, only to see Thorin just look at him expectantly, before he takes a deep breath and slowly rolls over.
He can hear a few grumbles, and feels the way Ori clings even tighter to his thighs, and Bofur burying his face even deeper into his ankles, and Kili yanking his shirt. Then, halfway through his moving, he can feel himself about to roll backwards onto his back and he must have looked stunned as Thorin instantly slides his hand from Bilbo's waist over to the other side, and no Bilbo does not shudder from the touch, and tugs him fully over, making the Bilbo crash straight into his chest.
Everything falls quiet, the sounds of the dwarves mumbles barely heard and Bilbo almost giggles as they all begin to rearrange themselves automatically. The brothers wriggle closer to Bilbo, and Ori snuggles into his practically bare back, thanks to Kili's inability to let go, while Bofur sighs and pillows his head on Bilbo's calf instead of his ankles. Bilbo can't help but smile at them before he turns and looks at the large expanse of dwarf chest in front of him.
He feels it rumbling against his hands, his palms pressed flat against it, and he can't help but smile when he realizes that Thorin is laughing, and with his own chuckle he looks up to see Thorin shaking his head back at him.
"I told you they would not wake."
"Yes, thank you, oh wise one."
Thorin just smiles at him before squirming himself, stretching out the arm that still serves as Bilbo's pillow and flexing the hand resting on Bilbo's waist, which somehow draws Bilbo even closer into him.
Bilbo almost panics, his eyes going wide and his hands curling around the fur of Thorin's coat, the fur that completely encases him, and his breath comes out a little hitched. Thorin must realise something is wrong, as he's instantly squeezing Bilbo closer, of course, and breathing in his ear.
"Sh-Should we…" he can't even get the words out, his face flaming up with a blush in both embarrassment and shame. It's dreadful, and Thorin seems to catch on once seeing the redness of Bilbo's face and he pushes him gently away and smiles a rare smile down at him.
"Bilbo-" and no, Bilbo did not just about squeal as Thorin says his name with that addicting husky hoarse voice, "-you needn't worry about the others opinions. Nor should you worry about anything but yourself. I am warm, I am comfortable, it would be logical for you to… 'cuddle' up to me."
Bilbo recognizes that as Thorin's way of offering his arms to sleep in, with an excuse for the other dwarves come morn. He purses his lips, his hands still deeply tangled in the fur as he plays with it, stroking it softly between his fingers before his hands slowly and hesitantly move up to run through the dark beard and long hail, twirling the braids on either side of Thorin's face through his fingers. Thorin doesn't look from him though, silently waiting for the answer Bilbo will give and Bilbo can't help but smile as he leans in and presses his forehead to Thorin's neck, his lips moving against Thorin's collarbone as he speaks.
"Or maybe its because you're… you're Thorin?" he whispers, feeling Thorin drop his chin onto his head and his arm draw him closer still to his chest. Bilbo smiles at the action and he manages to extract a leg from Bofur's grip to slide in between Thorin's, entwining their bodies completely.
"As long as you're happy, Little One."
"As long as I'm in your arms, I think I might be."
The blush deepens as Thorin kisses his forehead, his lips tingling against Bilbo's skin, before he curls up his other arm to rest over Bilbo's back, cocooning the hobbit into his body, and Bilbo sighs contently as his eyes slip shut while the feeling of complete comfort washes over him...
"Oh Mahal, its about bloody time! Nori! You owe me!"
His eyes shoot open, a sudden change to being asleep, and he hears the deep rumble of laughter from Thorin's chest that he's still curled up against. Instantly he's pushing against it, turning away from the warm fur only to gasp and squirrel back against it as the light of daybreak burns his eyes. Had time gone so fast?
"Nooope, only if they've kissed."
"Well? Uncle? Have you?"
Bilbo frowns, hearing the sound of Fili's curious voice as Thorin laughs, replying with a negative. Something in his chest feels warm, and gooey, and he refuses to think it's his heart because that is just ridiculously sentimental. He can't help but smile though as he pulls back to look up into Thorin's literally glittering eyes.
"Morning, Little On-"
He's cut off as Bilbo crushes their lips together, his arms wrapping around Thorin's neck as he falls back and drags the dwarf down on top of him. He hears wolf-whistles, groans, and excited chatter above him, but he doesn't care too much as he feels Thorin smile against his lips and kiss back, hands on his still exposed skin.
The reminder has him instantly pushing Thorin away and lunging towards Kili, eyes wild with murder.
"You!" he roars, picking up a frying pan from nearby, though it had probably been about to be used to cook breakfast, and he whacks the squealing dwarf over the head, "ripped my shirt!"
He vaguely hears and sees Dwalin sidle up to Thorin, who's watching him with a affectionate smile that makes Bilbo's stomach do a flip, despite it being his nephew Bilbo was abusing, and he almost blushes when he hears what the dwarf asks the King.
"You have an interesting partner, Thorin, are you sure he is Your One?"
That warmth in his chest returns with a vengeance, as does that blasted stomach flipping, and it powers his destructive hand somehow as he hears Thorin reply a gentle "yes."