The Home

Bilbo's Birthday, Pt. 1

     The fall passed onwards, and soon both Bilbo and Thorin were busy with planning for Bilbo's birthday—because you have to have a grand party on a birthday, there was just no way around it. Food was gathered, plans were made, gifts wrapped and tagged, dishes found, ale purchased, and suddenly, it was only two days until the party.
     Thorin was rather bothered that he had to share Bilbo on a special day like his birthday, but he kept his concerns to himself and willingly lent a hand to the work. While he still spent much of his time at the blacksmith's, helping with the harvest rush of work, he quietly made plans of his own, slipping in an extra loaf of bread here and there or a few more vegetables to the baskets of food when Bilbo wasn't looking, going through the packs he had brought with him from Erebor.
     "The day after your birthday," Thorin said suddenly, the night before Bilbo's birthday as they sat in front of the fire, resting after being on their feet all day, "do you have any plans?"
     Bilbo frowned and shook his head. "No, I usually sleep later after something like this the night before. Why?"
     Thorin blushed and turned away. "Nothing—I just had some plans of my own."
     "Really?" Bilbo said, smiling and looking at him sideways. "Might I ask what they are?"
     "Well, I just—I am not getting to spend your birthday with you, so just consider the day after tomorrow to be our birthday celebration."
     "Is there anything that I can do to help?"
     "No!" Thorin said forcefully, "I want to do this for you. You focus on tomorrow night and don't worry about it."
     "If you say so," Bilbo relented, blushing slightly, wondering what Thorin had planned. He pushed it from his mind, wanting it to be a surprise, but he blushed redder when the thought came back around, and a giggle escaped his lips.
     "What?" Thorin said, rather offended.
     "I can't believe you want to do something for me," Bilbo laughed, "we live together now, and you still want to do something like that for me?"
     "Yes," Thorin answered, completely serious, "I do." He smiled. "You are so cute when you blush."
     This made Bilbo blush harder, and he buried his face, embarrassed, in his hands. "I am not cute," came his muffled voice.
     Thorin laughed, standing from his chair and sliding onto the couch next to him, throwing an arm around him and kissing his fingers. "Yes you are!"
     "No, I'm not!" Bilbo protested, looking up indignantly, which only made Thorin laugh harder.
     He touched Bilbo's nose. "Yes, you are, and nothing can change that."
     "Oh, be quiet and kiss me," Bilbo laughed, leaning forwards. Thorin kissed him, then leaned back into the couch as Bilbo shifted around to lay his head in his lap. Thorin absentmindedly played with his hair, the soft curls sliding through his fingers, Bilbo closing his eyes in contentment.
     "That feels good," he murmured, a smile spreading gently across his face, "I could lay here forever."
     "We can," Thorin said, winding a piece of hair around his finger, "we have until tomorrow morning."
     "Well, in that case..." Bilbo sighed, and shifted slightly, relaxing into Thorin's legs, snuggling deeper into his lap, "you can continue."
     Thorin smiled tenderly down at him, watching his chest rise and fall steadily, his face relaxed peacefully, eyes closed, his brown lashes fluttering gently against his smooth cheeks, the fragile line of his profile silhouetted against the dark fabric of Thorin's pants, the glow of the fire changing his skin tone to a delicate gold. He was pretty, Thorin thought, running his fingers through Bilbo's chestnut curls, the fire casting soft shadows across his face, pretty in a fragile, delicate way, and yet warmly beautiful. His fingers trailed absently across Bilbo's cheek, then down his neck and shoulder, brushing across his waist and hips. Thorin sighed with enjoyment, then pulled his hand back in, stroking Bilbo's forehead.
     "Mm," Bilbo murmured contentedly, "I love you."
     "I love you, too, my treasure," Thorin whispered, brushing his pinkie down his nose. "Good night."
     And they fell asleep on the couch, Bilbo's head in Thorin's lap, Thorin's hand comfortingly on his forehead, peaceful and together, warm in the cold of the coming winter.