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Chapter Text

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Bilbo winced at the roll of thunder, which seemed to go on and on and on, and finally realized, as he rubbed the remains of an after-tea nap from his eyes, that someone was knocking at the door. He sighed and made his way down the hall. Houseguests were very nice – even if they were well-beloved houseguests who were helping you pack up the house – but he’d been looking forward to a quiet afternoon while his batch were out on errands and now here was someone else come knocking and….

“Dwalin?”

“Hobbit. Bilbo. I. Here.” Dwalin shoved a bundle of mewling something at Bilbo, as soaking wet as Dwalin was, but hopefully not as cut up. Bilbo gazed in consternation at the tall warrior, who looked like he’d gotten on the bad side of a bramble bush and a mud puddle, perhaps several times.

“Why didn’t you just come in?” Bilbo asked, confused, as he automatically balanced the animal Dwalin had thrust into his arms. “And who’s this, then?” He asked, more softly, trying to gently jostle the creature enough to look into its’ face. It seemed to be a cat, and perhaps the most bedraggled thing he’d ever seen.

“Oh, do come in, Dwalin, and put those wet things there.” Bilbo nodded to the bundle of weapons and whatnot Dwalin was carrying. The dwarf seemed to collect them like Hamfast collected seed packets.

“I.” Dwalin muttered, swaying, standing just outside the door, water pouring off his nose. “I. Here.” He made one large step inside, carefully placed his bundle on the mat Bilbo had put out for drippy dwarrow boots, and stepped back outside. “I. Can’t.” He heaved a shaky sigh, in the grip of some powerful emotion. It was hard to tell with the rain, mud and blood, but it had clearly been a bad day. “Green Dragon. Drink,” he finally growled, and lit off at a near run through the rain.

“Well, would you look at that?” Bilbo said softly to the cat, who now had his nose in Bilbo’s neck and was shaking from the cold. “Honestly, he just gets stranger and stranger. Couldn’t find a stouter heart, and he’s a good friend, I know, to my love, and to me, really.”

Bilbo patted the poor bedraggled thing and closed the door. “You’ll meet Thorin later. Not sure why he’s not with Dwalin, now….hmm. Let’s see.” Bilbo kept up his soft talk as he moved through his smial, wondering at bit at how trustingly the cat – clearly shaking with cold or fright – was lying in his arms, little face pressed against his neck. He got a few towels and an old blanket and wandered back to his fire.

“Let’s have a look at you,” Bilbo said as they drew near, and began to kneel down, suddenly having a bit of trouble. “My goodness, what a big beautiful fellow you are, don’t worry, we’ll be down in just a tic….” The cat jumped down on his own, turned and glared at Bilbo. “Or you could do that,” Bilbo finished. “Right.”

The cat was most likely a beautiful thing when dry. All black with a few streaks of almost silvery white whiskers and eyebrows, long fur, big blue eyes, all currently the picture of wet and draggled misery. Bilbo made a clucking noise of sympathy and instantly was on the other end of a furious glare. He began to understand, perhaps, Dwalin's scratches.

Bilbo bit his lips to not laugh at the visual dressing down he was currently receiving from a wet cat. It was all too reminiscent of certain regal glares of Thorin’s. Unable to help himself, he reached out a hand to pet the poor thing, and the cat pulled his head back haughtily and fixed Bilbo with another even more lethal glare and a warning throaty noise.

“You’re going to fit in here just fine,” Bilbo chuckled. “I’m not even going to attempt helping to dry you when you’re in a mood, so I’m off to find something for you to eat. Hmmm. Am I or am I not supposed to give cats milk? I never can remember.”

The cat gave him a bewildered look. Bilbo laughed.

“Yes, I am going to talk to you as if you understand. I’ve always suspected you lot knew more than you were letting on. Aren’t you going to…you know…wash yourself? Get dry?”

The cat glared at Bilbo again and plunked down into pile of towels Bilbo had brought out, pointedly turning his back, radiating disgust.

“Well, I guess that’s me told,” Bilbo murmured, and padded off to the kitchen.

Halfway through chopping up a bit of chicken, Bilbo was hit by a horrible, horrible horrible thought. He walked in a daze to his sitting room and said softly. “Thorin?”

“Mrrrrrrow!” The cat was absolutely incandescent with outrage. "Grrrrrmrrrrrow!"

Bilbo stared into furious blue eyes and tried to take that in. "Nope." He bent over and breathed deeply, trying not to faint. He looked back at the cat from knee-level. The still-bedraggled thing was looking a bit worried now, Bilbo thought. Stricken and standing, almost hovering, like he wanted to help. Bilbo shook the odd thought out of his head and pursed his lips, thinking.

He glanced at the pile of weapons in the entryway. The hilt of Orcrist was visible, as was the toe of one very familiar boot. Bilbo staggered over to pick it up. As he did, a familiar tangle of jewelry fell out, including Thorin’s ring, and a chain of gold and mithril entwined Bilbo had commissioned Fili to make as part of Thorin’s courting gifts. Bilbo clutched it to his chest, closed his hand over the matching necklace around his own neck and choked out a half-sob. A moment later, he was butted in the leg by a damp little head, and he looked down to find large blue eyes looking up at him in a familiar soulful, sorrowful manner.

“Thorin.” Bilbo breathed.

The cat pressed his forehead against Bilbo’s calf and sighed. “Aow,” he said plaintively. “Aoooow.” What Bilbo heard was a mix of heartbreaking apology embarrassment, grief, and a small plea of comfort. Interesting, Bilbo thought, dizzy with shock, that Thorin could communicate so much so clearly with just few meows.

He crumpled to the floor and let Thorin come into his arms. Thorin headed straight for his favorite place, to rest his face in the crook of Bilbo’s neck (Bilbo should have known sooner, he really should have) but Bilbo had other ideas, and hauled his betrothed until they were nose to nose.

“What” he said in a quiet voice that those who knew him had cause to fear. “Did you, say,exactly, to Radagast?

~~~

Chapter Text

They lay on the settee tuckered out, Thorin stretched out on Bilbo's stomach, his face again tucked in Bilbo's neck, Bilbo stroking his betrothed's back in long, meditative stokes, staring at the fire. If you looked closely at the peaceful scene, you could see the clench of Bilbo's jaw in contrast to the gentle, soothing sweep of his hands, and Thorin's loud purr was marred by his switching, angry tail. The rain continued to fall outside, and the thunder to roll.

The door opened, and a chastened, still-bloody Dwalin entered. He meekly toed off his boots and sodden cloak, and tiptoed carefully to the guest bath to dry himself off as best he could before coming to kneel before Bilbo and Thorin, head bowed and terribly contrite.

Thorin, now sitting upright on the settee, made a threatening noise. His tail lashed.

"I have a confession. The cat - "

"Dwalin."

He looked up, and noticed the long-haired cat, fur neatly brushed, now sported a gold and mithril chain tripled around his neck, tied with a discreet ribbon at the back, Thorin's ring dangling as a pendant. The effect was properly majestic.

Thorin hissed.

"My king," Dwalin choked, ashamed. His shoulders shook with emotion.

"Are you drunk?" Bilbo asked quietly. Dwalin blanched.

"I couldn't. I've been walking the village."

"What happened, Dwalin? Thorin's tried to tell me, but it's a bit difficult with the language barrier and that paws find it difficult to form letters clearly." He brushed at his sooty shirt, and glanced toward the fireplace, where there were ashes all over the hearth. Some looked like runes.

"I angered Radagast."

Bilbo shifted his position slightly and waited him out.

"It was the hedgehogs again," he whispered. Bilbo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I know, I know, they're just so rude. And go all round when they get back as good as they've given. Cowards."

"That's no excuse to juggle them, Dwalin."

"Grrrrow!" Thorin added pointedly.

Dwalin hung his head. "Words were said. Thorin stepped in to take the blame. Radagast got snippy, Thorin got mad and Radagast might have said he was acting like an affronted cat. Then Thorin mentioned the shit on Radagast's face. Next thing I knew that blue stone on his staff was glowing and there was a loud howl, and.....I am ashamed to say I just gathered up our things and ran." His voice choked again, and he stopped speaking to catch his breath.

Bilbo transferred his calmly disappointed look to Thorin, who crawled under Bilbo's arm and made a sad, howling meow, his face pressed against Bilbo's side.

"Well, it's all well and good to be sorry now."

Thorin sighed. The tip of his tail, sticking out from under Bilbo's arm, twitched.

Bilbo crossed his arms and pinched his nose again. Thorin crawled out from underneath Bilbo's arm and, with careful looks and slow movements, crawled back into his lap. Bilbo raised his arms and let him. His hand settled on Thorin's back.

"Honestly, the two of you," he said quietly. His voice may have been soft, but there was anger and disappointment in it, and both dwarf and cat/dwarf hunched in shame.

"You know how important Radagast is to the redevelopment of Erebor and Dale, not to mention Mirkwood if Gandalf and Galadriel can help Thranduil finish off the taint on it! You know. Hobbits know plenty about revitalizing the soil, but Radagast can help with so very much more. He knows so very much about how to keep the earth healthy and whole, centuries upon centuries, ages of experience, and you tease him about the poop in his hair?" He kicked Dwalin's knee gently. "Juggle his hedgehogs? Those wee tiggies are the closest thing he has to children. He wept when Sebastian died. Apparently he'd gone and died before, and came back, but this time he didn't, and Radagast was really broken up about it."

"I apologize."

Bilbo's voice lowered to a threatening purr. "You need not apologize to me, Dwalin, son of Fundin. You apologize to your king, and then you go right back out there and apologize to wizard who can make the land part your homeland thrive. I don't care if it's wetter out there than the bottom of the Brandywine." He huffed, having really worked himself up into a mood. "Why didn't you stay and apologize in the first place?" he snapped.

"It is my instinct to protect my king. And." he darted a pained glance at Bilbo and looked back at the floor. He gulped hard. "I was afraid. It was my fault and Thorin was..."

"Dwalin," Bilbo took mercy on him, his voice for the moment, warm with his usual affection. Thorin padded forward on Bilbo's knees and butted his head against his friend's chest. Dwalin choked out a sob.

"I was so afraid for you, my king. So small, and so angry. So wild, clawing at me. I was afraid you'd gone mad." Thorin pushed off Bilbo's knees and put his paws on Dwalin's shoulder. With surprisingly gentle hands, Dwalin caught him around the middle and gathered him to his chest. He bent and buried his face in Thorin's soft fur. Thorin put his paws around Dwalin's neck.

"Forgive me. Please forgive me.," he whispered, his voice choked. Bilbo thought he'd give them a moment and wandered off to the kitchen. Behind him, he could hear Thorin purr loudly, and if there were some muffled sounds Dwalin was making against Thorin's fur, Bilbo decided that it must be Khuzdul. Didn't sound like the relieved tears of the forgiven at all.

When Bilbo returned a few minutes later, with a hot drink in one hand and a wrapped pie in the other, Dwalin and Thorin were playing with a piece of ribbon left over from securing Thorin's necklace.

"Really?" Bilbo said. They pretended nothing silly was happening with such ease that Bilbo wondered what mischief he had just missed in the past. Bilbo pretended Dwalin's eyes weren't red.

"I could use that moment for so much blackmail between you two and the rest of the company." Twin faces of horror, in various degrees of furry, looked back at him. Bilbo smiled sweetly and handed Dwalin the mug in his hand.

"Put that in you before you go back out. Would you like me to help you put together a proper apology?"

"No, Consort," Dwalin said humbly, taking a careful sip of Bilbo's toddy, then downing it in an appreciative gulp. "It's best if the apology come from my heart."

"Just so," Bilbo said with approval. "And I'm not the Consort yet."

"You speak for Thorin," was the simple answer. "And you stand for him with honor and wisdom. And kindness." Dwalin put down the mug, went from floor-sitting to up on one knee, reached for Bilbo's hand, and touched the hobbit's knuckles to his forehead. "I am ever at your service, Consort. With all that I am."

"Dwalin," Bilbo said, shocked, his voice choked. He nearly dropped the pie. He'd been coached on this for the wedding and coronation, and it was very, very important. He threw a startled look at Thorin, who nodded at him and came to press against his legs, purring. Bilbo placed his hand atop Dwalin's bald head. "I accept your service with gratitude, Dwalin, son of Fundin. You are under my protection, and my grace." Bilbo took a shaky breath and sniffed. "And very much my dear friend, cross with you though I am right now," he added, sniffing harder. "You didn't have to do that." He wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

Dwalin stood. "Yes I did," and wiped his eyes with his fists like a child. He heaved a great sigh. "I better get back to it before dark."

Bilbo handed him the pie, then thought better of it. "Let me get a basket for this, and an oiled cloth to protect it. Apologies always go better with food."

"Aye. Thank you," Dwalin said sincerely, and stomped off, Thorin trailing behind him. He turned and looked at Bilbo for a moment and gave a sweet trill. It sounded pleased.

"Didn't get that one, love," Bilbo said, sniffing again. Thorin trilled again and trotted after Dwalin. Bilbo went to find the basket and they all met up at the door.

"Now, he said, handing the basket over. "Apology, ask for a counterspell or how long this blasted thing will last. If necessary, we'll come by tomorrow with a big picnic lunch and more apologies."

Dwalin nodded. "Yes, Consort." Bilbo flapped his hands.

"Oh, stop that." Dwalin ducked his head and shuffled his feet. "Oh, bend down, you great oaf," he added. Dwalin hesitantly bent over, trying not to let his wet cloak drip on Bilbo. Ignoring it, Bilbo stood on his toes and kissed Dwalin on the top of his head.

"You're forgiven, Dwalin. Your feelings this afternoon, and your fears have been punishment enough. Just get my beloved back to normal and never, ever..."

"Let the hedgehogs spark my temper again."

"Well, I wasn't going to be that specific, but yes." He shooed him. "Now go on. Be very nice to Radagast."

"Yes, Cons-Bilbo." Dwalin met his eyes squarely. "And thank you."

Bilbo just shooed him again, just about overcome with Dwalin's sincerity and humility. And the oath! His heart just couldn't take a thing more. Then Dwalin was gone, and he and Thorin were alone.

"Well," Bilbo said to the cat.

Chirping, Thorin wound around his feet.

"Did I do all right?" Bilbo asked shyly. Thorin gave him a look and launched himself into Bilbo's arms. He licked Bilbo's nose and purred loudly. Bilbo threw his head back and laughed.

"Really? Truly?" He hugged his beloved. "I am not telling anyone you kissed me like a cat. The scandal!"

Thorin glared at him and carefully placed his teeth around the tip of Bilbo's nose. He growled.

"Point taken," Bilbo said, and shifted his betrothed into a cradling hold, just to bury his face in the fur of his belly. Thorin swatted him with soft paws.

"And I won't tell anyone what an absolutely adorable cat you make."

Thorin growled again.

"Adorable and majestic. Oh, I do love you." Bilbo tucked him up on his shoulder and kissed his nose. "But I miss the regular you very, very much."

Thorin's touched his paw to Bilbo's face, and patted at him until Bilbo leaned down and Thorin could press their foreheads together. His purr rattled the room.

~~FIN~~~

~~~

Chapter Text

Bilbo looked up as the door slammed closed.

"Tomorrow. It will wear off overnight." Everyone sighed, relieved. "I have offered amends to Radagast. And the hedgehogs."

If Dwalin wasn't going to expand on that, Bilbo wouldn't press. He'd get it out of Thorin later. "That was well done. And Thorin? Should amends be made as well?"

"That's up to Thorin. And Radagast apologizes for his loss of temper as well, and invites us to luncheon tomorrow."

Bilbo made a face.

"I offered to bring lunch along," Dwalin said and cleared his throat. "I can get it from the Green Dragon, if you like. Easy enough."

"No, that's fine, and thank you. Eating Radagast's cooking once a season is plenty."

Dwalin shuddered in agreement, and shucked out of his wet boots, cloak and set his weapons by the door.

"Maaarp?" Thorin called. Dwalin looked up. Thorin was sitting tall and regal by the fire.

"Mrrrow," he said softly to Dwalin, and blinked both eyes affectionately, then punctuated that with a loud, pleased purr. Dwalin bowed.

"My king," he replied softly, and shot Bilbo a look.

"Do you find sometimes you can hear him quite plainly?"

Bilbo grinned. Thorin squawked.

Dwalin rolled his eyes. "You are speaking another language."

"Mrrrr."

"I'm going for a bath."

"Supper in about twenty minutes."

Dwalin grunted in acknowledgement and stomped down the hall,squishing slightly. Bilbo turned his gaze to his beloved, who had plunked himself down sullenly on the hearth.

"Well, I'm sorry if we can't understand every meow."

"Mrrrrrrr." Thorin batted a leftover bit of ash from the afternoon's writing attempts.

"Oh, that's very much enough of that. It took forever to get off your paws and fur."

Thorin fell over on his side and lay there, gazing into the fire, tail slowly, dramatically, sweeping and slapping the floor.

"Oh, have your sulk, you big silly. Tomorrow you'll be properly sized again."

Picking up his head, Thorin gave Bilbo a speculative look. He blinked slowly at Bilbo twice and purred.

"Mmm hmmm. Nice to have a glorious reunion twice in one visit, don't you think?"

Thorin regarded him through half-lidded eyes, gaze intense, the very tip of his tail twitching. Bilbo chuckled into his cup of tea.

"Not much difference to you like this, is there, you incorrigible flirt?"

"Mow!"

Bilbo kept snickering.

By the time Dwalin returned, Thorin was in Bilbo's chair, darting over the chair arms and Bilbo's lap, poking and prodding him with a paw, while Bilbo tried to fend him of gently, giggling madly all the while. Dwalin clapped his hands over his eyes.

"I can't see this. I can't unsee this," he said, unsteady. "Can you two take just one night off from flirting?" he added, voice quavering.

Bilbo cleared his throat loudly. "Ah. Quite. Understandable. I'll fetch supper." Dwalin fixed Thorin with a glare. Thorin glared right back. He hissed.

"It's unsettling. You're a cat!"

Thorin pointedly took the chair and turned his back on his friend. Dwalin rubbed his face with both hands and went to set the table. He had a few pre-dinner biscuits because really. Mahal's hammer shield him from further cat/hobbit courting moments.

Chapter Text

~~~

By the time Bilbo got to the table, juggling two large plates of dinner for himself and Dwalin and a smaller saucer of diced chicken for Thorin, the two dwarrow were at it again. (It was quite clear, despite what form he inhabited, Thorin Oakenshield was quite himself and Bilbo really couldn't think of him as a cat.) Dwalin was taunting Thorin with a a fork, of all things, and Thorin was turned belly up, batting at it with his paws, and some of Dwalin's passes came quite close to....

Bilbo put the dishes down with a clatter, keeping himself from hurling them on the table. "If you're quite through," he said softly. Both dwarrow froze, and Dwalin had the grace to look sheepish.

"All good fun until someone loses an eye, right?" Bilbo added, his voice tight. He stalked off to the pantry for a mug of ale, and grudgingly brought back one for Dwalin.

Dwalin hadn't waited on him, but was eating with such a display of fine table manners that Bilbo had to look twice at him and wonder if Radagast hadn't done a bit of spell casting on him as well. Thorin, however, had his nose practically in Dwalin's plate, clearly intent on his sausages.

"STOP!" Bilbo cried. "You'll eat your chicken and you'll like it, Thorin Oakenshield!" Those sausage have garlic in them, and Primula's cat got ill after eating chicken and onions, onions are the same plant family as garlic, and I don't know how much would hurt you, but...."

Thorin pulled his head quickly out of range of Dwalin's plate and padded down the table to his betrothed. He butted his head against Bilbo's chest in apology.

"Mrrow," he said softly, then immediately spoiled the moment by sniffing one of the mugs of ale and licking his lips.

"NO!" Bilbo roared, nearly vibrating with fury. "Are you trying to poison yourself?" he spat, putting the mugs on the sideboard, well out of the way. "Is your life not full of enough danger these days? Is peace, prosperity, and the rebuilding your home not good enough? Is that why the two of you continually get Radagast in a strop, since you can't pick on Thranduil anymore? Sweet Yavanna, save me from the boneheadedness of dwarrow." He backed away from twin horrified gazes and put his hands over his eyes. After a moment, he looked at the two of them, having dropped all the calm and competence he'd carried that afternoon and let the two idiots see. Let them see.

"I was frightened, too, you know." The sound of the door to the back garden closing was all the more devastating in that it did not slam shut.

Dwalin quickly turned clean plates over their dinner to keep it warm, and hurried to the back door. Thorin was already there, trying to work the latch with his paws and growling in frustration. He eeled through the door before Dwalin could get it completely open, running for the small bench at the far end of the garden where Bilbo went to sit when he was thinking something over. By the time Dwalin reached them, Thorin had crawled into Bilbo's lap, put paws on his shoulders, and had touched his nose to his intended's, making small, gentle chirps of comfort.

"Bilbo, I..."

Bilbo choked, a tiny desolate sound. Thorin pressed himself as close as he could against Bilbo's chest, curled half-on one shoulder, pressed cheek to cheek with him, and answering Bilbo's noise of distress with his own soft cry.

"You left me here," Bilbo said in a voice choked with emotion. "You threw him in my arms and left me here with a pile of weapons, his boots and my betrothal necklace. What would I have thought if I hadn't figured it out, I don't like to imagine." He stopped to struggle with his breath. "You left me to clean up your mess, and thankfully Thorin wasn't as wild and angry as you say he'd been earlier, because I think he's a large enough cat to have done me some damage."

Thorin squawked in protest at the last, and Bilbo eased him with a touch on his shoulder.

"I am as ashamed of that as I am of getting Thorin into his mess in the first place," Dwalin said quietly. "My deepest apologies, Bilbo."

"I forgave you long ago, but thank you for saying that." Bilbo sniffed and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. Thorin reached up a paw and patted his cheek softly. Bilbo smiled, still a little wan.

"He eased the moment you opened the door, you know. Stopped struggling. And the moment I put him in your arms he relaxed fully. I did the right thing, bringing him straight home to you, I think. I thought about it on the way back this evening. We were both so upset at Radagast's, the only way to calm down was to get away. But I should have stayed and helped you, or at the very least, told you."

"Thank you, again, Dwalin. I don't mean to drag it on and make you feel worse about the whole mess. I just got so angry watching the two of you play, as if this enormous, horrible thing hadn't happened. As if this were another moment of end-of-day roughhousing. He's tiny compared to you and to his regular self. While I am glad the two of you are such great friends, I just don't understand how you can fall so easily into play or roughhousing sometimes."

Dwalin was silent for a long moment.

"I think, at some point, we learned to brush off pain and, as you say, horrible things, after Erebor, after Azanulbizar, because we had to.... There were so many hard, painful times... I saw my friend, my prince, shoulder the death of his grandfather and brother, the the disappearance of his father, and the plight of his people, weighed down by sorrow as if the mountain itself were perched on his shoulders. It became a way, with us, to laugh when we could, as quick as we could, to tussle when we couldn't laugh, with each other and with those we are close to....to, whistle against the darkness, I think I've heard you say? Bofur is best at it. Music helps. Thorin tends to brood if you don't catch him quick. So, it has become second nature to us, I suppose, to find fun, make light or roughhouse a bit."

"Mrrrowow," Thorin added in seeming agreement.

"That makes sense. That makes a lot of sense, actually, and I thank you for sharing it with me. Sometimes, on our journey, such cheer was understandable if we were celebrating being alive, but sometimes, I just didn't understand. You tell such awful jokes to one another and are always cuffing and punching at the oddest times." He chuckled softly. "So all those times you swipe at the nephews, you're showing affection? So different from hobbits, we might use words, but not roughhouse like you do.

"Well, and to try to beat some sense into Kili and Fili," Dwalin growled. Bilbo laughed outright, and the moment eased. They spent a few moments watching at the rise of the fireflies in the deepening dusk.

Dwalin cleared his throat. "Sometimes your kindness is staggering to me, Consort. I injure you and my king today and you thank me for my apologies."

"Hush with the Consort business."
'
"I offer respect."

"Thank you, but I think moving forward, I'd like my friends to stay my friends, and not inch me up some pedestal. Call me by some royal title."

"There will be times I must, you know."

"Yes, I suppose so. But still."

"My respect grows for you, my friend," Dwalin said. "If you were a dwarf, I would speak to you in formal language. If you will not let me call you by your title, I am not sure what else to do. "

"The dishes? Or there's that irrigation system for the garden you two were bandying ideas about might be nice," Bilbo teased. "It will be good for Primula and Drogo when they move in. One less thing to do with a child coming..

"If that is what I can do to make amends, then I will do it."

Bilbo turned to him, adjusting Thorin on his shoulder. "Amends? Dwalin, I forgave you hours ago. I don't need..."

"But you were still angry."

"I suppose I had to get a few things off my chest, but that doesn't take back my forgiveness. Amends aren't necessary. Forgiven is forgiven."

"Hobbits," Dwalin growled.

"Dwarrow," Bilbo retorted, a bit of humor creeping back into his tone. He sighed. "Supper is cold by now."

"I covered it to keep it warm, best I could."

Bilbo eyed him. "You have the makings of a good hobbit."

Dwalin rose. "That goes beyond affectionate insult, Bilbo," he said stiffly.

Bilbo grinned and merrily kicked him in the shin.

~~~

Chapter Text

Dwalin insisted on doing the dishes, with the air of someone undertaking a task of great honor, despite what Bilbo had said earlier about forgiveness, despite all the times he'd done them before - teasing all the while about just eating with your hands out of the serving dishes or pots themselves would be more efficient - and if doing the dishes would ease something within his friend, well, Bilbo would just have to bear up under the strain.

When he murmured this to Thorin, who was riding his shoulder like it was the sedan chair of some Southron lord, Thorin purred, rubbed his cheek against Bilbo's ear and gave it a small, affectionate lick. Bilbo stopped in his tracks and raised a hand to curl around him.

"I will thank you, dearest," Bilbo said, voice shaking a little. "To wait on your attentions to my ears until you are quite completely yourself again."

"Meew," came the meek and sorrowful reply. As soon as Bilbo was through the door of the master bedroom and within range of the bed, Thorin took a flying jump off his shoulders. He landed in the center of the counterpane and turned to give Bilbo a stricken glance.

"Oh, now," Bilbo said mildly, coming forward to stroke Thorin's ears. "It's not that bad. I just have very pleasant memories of you and my ears, and as very interesting as your tongue currently is, you know what..." He stopped and cleared his throat, not sure he was even willing tonight allude to exactly what effect Thorin had on his ears.

Bilbo sighed, and stroked his hand down his love's long, furry back. "You're right here," he whispered. "And are quite yourself, despite the body you inhabit. I am sensible that it could be much worse if you were locked away within a cat's brain, as well. But I find that I miss you even more keenly than this last stretch apart, with me starting preparations here and you at home. I didn't quite realize all the hundred ways we look at and touch one another, not just in this room, but over the course of a day. And granted, as lovable as you are in this form..." Thorin jerked his head back and leveled a glare at Bilbo, one ear turned sideways.

"Don't you turn your ear inside out, you silly thing, I'm not being offensive. You're a great beautiful cat! Of course you're lovable and very touchable! You're lovable and touchable in your normal form as well, but you perhaps don't....allow or indulge in it as freely in front of others."

Thorin turned his other ear sideways.

"Oh stop. I know it's part of your culture and just how you are. But today you are freely and unashamedly more cuddly, and yet a cat, so I can't help but miss you even more, because despite the lovely cuddles, it's not your strong arms around me, nor your rough-silk bearded cheek brushing against mine. Nor," and Bilbo gave him half-grin. "Your less-interesting tongue on my ear. I tell you, my love, I miss you dearly, and I cannot wait for the morning."

Thorin righted his ears and pressed his head against Bilbo's thigh a moment with a long sigh. He gathered himself up and crept into Bilbo's lap to put his paws around his neck in the best he could offer as a hug. Like Dwalin a few hours before, Bilbo gathered him up to hold against his chest, and they sat there together, just holding one another as best they could.

"In either form, you're a dear," Bilbo whispered.

"Mrrrow!" Thorin protested.

"Well, yes, your secret is safe with me. And Dwalin. And your nephews. And the company. And your sister...and..."

Thorin wiggled out of Bilbo's arms to give him a death glare, and once he saw the smile twitching at the corners of the hobbit's mouth, poked and prodded at him until he fell over, giggling, then, with deliberate malice, stalked toward Bilbo with the tip of his tongue poking out.

Bilbo was off the bed with surprising speed. "Oh no no no no, none of that. When you're back to yourself, I'll get some fine-grained wet sandpaper and show you how lovely that feels."

One more step forward on Thorin's part and Bilbo backed up. "Thorin," he warned.

Thorin prowled forward yet one more step, and thinking quickly, Bilbo grabbed a throw from the end of the bed and flung it over his betrothed's head. Immediately, Thorin began seeking a way out, then seemed...well, it seemed as if he'd discovered his tail at last and had begun chasing it. Bilbo had bite his lips not to laugh aloud.

"Dwalin!" Bilbo called. Hesitant, clomping steps (how he did that in his sock-feet Bilbo didn't know) came down the hall to Bilbo's door.

"Consort?" Dwalin said doubtfully.

Bilbo flapped an annoyed hand at him. "None of that. I have an emergency." He pointed to the bed. Dwalin's eyebrows hit what might have once been his hairline.

"I have a fearsome creature trapped," Bilbo confided. "I do believe I need help in capturing it."

Dwalin slanted a very young, very surprised look at Bilbo. "Do you now?" By this time, Thorin had stopped chasing his tail and was now fighting the blanket. He stopped suddenly, his claws poking through the weave of the blanket. He seemed to expect something. Bilbo clucked his tongue.

"You see how it is," he said, long suffering, moving to the edge of the bed. He scratched the counterpane near where Thorin was shrouded under the blanket, and Thorin leapt for the spot, attempting to trap his hand. Bilbo poked his side and Thorin whirled, a very familiar whirl that normally heralded death and destruction when he had Orcrist in hand, but now just snagged a bit of an old knitted throw. Bilbo poked his other side.

Hesitantly, Dwalin shuffled to the edge of the battleground.

"Will you help me vanquish this great foe?" Bilbo asked playfully. Thorin, underneath the blanket, helpfully made some horrifying noises and lashed his tail. Dwalin snorted, reached out slowly and trapped his king's tail against the bed. With a great yowl, the game was on.

Things were quite contained and going splendidly until Dwalin began another attack and yelled "Du Bekâr!" Bilbo added a cry of "For the Shire!" and knew, just knew even as he was speaking, even before he finished saying "Shire," as Thorin's head was turning toward his voice, as his body was clearly coiling to pounce, that he'd made a mistake. When Thorin exploded out of the bed, he bowled Bilbo over, licked his cheek enthusiastically and launched himself off of Bilbo's chest to Dwalin, who attempted to catch him and got scratch on his scalp for his troubles as Thorin clambered over him and ran down the hall.

Dwalin and Bilbo tentatively tiptoed out of the bedroom to find Thorin standing alert on the sitting room rug, Bilbo's pouch of Longbottom Leaf in his mouth.

"Oh no no no no," Bilbo said, darting forward, and now, the chase was on. Halfway through a circuit of the second-best sitting room, Thorin brushed against a vase with his tail and it went crashing to the floor. Two sets of guilty eyes turned toward Bilbo.

Bilbo put his hands on his hips and let out an exasperated sigh. "One: why are you looking like that at me, Dwalin? You didn't break it. And two: that, Thorin Oakenshield, was part of a set from my dear, dear cousin. I would think a dwarf of your skill would be more thorough."

Hesitantly, Thorin walked to the other end of the mantle and put a soft paw on the remaining vase. He twitched an ear at Bilbo, who rolled his eyes.

"One less thing to get rid of," Bilbo shrugged. "And how many times am I going to ask you to break something?"

Dwalin, with grunt of agreement, reached over and threw the ugly thing into the fireplace. Thorin launched himself at his friend with an infuriated yowl. The chase was on again.

~~~

After, exhausted, the three of them found themselves lying on the rug with pillow feathers, tobacco and soot drifting all around them, Thorin rolled to his back, let out a contented sigh and began purring loudly. His necklace/ribbon and ring concoction was askew, the ring nearly in his ear.

"Mmm," Bilbo agreed, reaching over to rub his belly. Thorin tried to work up the energy to fight him off with his paws, his belly and hind legs giving a feeble couple of twitches, but finally he subsided while Bilbo petted him. Soon, his purr turned into a small snore.

"Pie," Dwalin rumbled and creaked to his feet. He waved a hand at Bilbo to stay down.

"Pie," Bilbo agreed dreamily.

They ate it very, very quietly, knowing that Thorin couldn't have any, though Bilbo privately vowed to give him a tiny bit of whipped cream should he wake, and damn the consequences. Dwalin gathered the dishes and took them to the sink when they were finished, and on the way through the sitting room, set a heavy, warm hand on Bilbo's head and said quietly, "Goodnight, Bilbo. You have the makings of good dwarf."

"That's just unkind," Bilbo shot back warmly.

"You're a horrible cook," Dwalin said over his shoulder on the way to his room. "I only eat to be polite."

"You're a terrible weakling and the tattoos on your back are misspelled."

Dwalin sighed as he reached the hall and turned around. "You're going to need help drumming up better insults, Master Baggins."

"Perhaps I'm in too good a mood and in such good company I cannot muster the proper scorn."

Dwalin brushed the doorjamb with one large hand and fiddled a bit at the wall sconce, and Bilbo knew that look of shyness warring with thoughts. He let him have his think and watched him gaze around the mayhem they'd left behind. "I can get started on -"

Bilbo waved a hand. "Leave it. It can keep. At least we didn't ruin my bed pillows."

"Or that the soot fight didn't spread."

"Go on with you," Bilbo said gently. "We'll have an extra pair of hands in the morning."

Dwalin's smile was huge. "You have a very fine point."

"Off with you then," Bilbo replied, slowly getting to his feet. "And Dwalin?"

"Yes, Con-"

Bilbo cleared his throat.

"Yes, Bilbo?"

"Could you help me get started on the good insults tomorrow?"

Dwalin sketched a small half-bow. "I look forward to it."

Bilbo sighed and looked down at his future husband, drowsing ridiculously paws-up on the carpet, and wished for half of Ori's drawing skills. He crouched to gather up the great lug and carry him off to bed, but Thorin woke enough to put a soft paw on Bilbo's cheek as he bent over him. He gazed up at Bilbo with an achingly familiar affectionate glance.

"You're still a cat, love," Bilbo said softly, unbending enough to kiss Thorin's nose. "Much to my regret."

Thorin stuck out the very tip of his tongue.

"Oh no, that's how I got three pillows, two vases and my coal carrier demolished." He grinned. "Get yourself to the bathroom, I'm making sure my sheets don't get sooty.

He wiped Thorin down (who bore it once again with ill grace), got the tripled up necklace and ring off him so it wouldn't choke him in the night, and shut him out of the bathroom to take a quick soak before bed. Once he got there, Thorin was again snoring more than he did in his own shape and taking up far more of the bed than one might think for a cat of his size. Bilbo snugged himself beneath the covers and within a few moments, Thorin crept to his side. Bilbo opened his arms.

"If you'll behave."

Thorin demurely settled, his face in his favorite place against Bilbo's neck. He sighed, content and as Bilbo drifted off to sleep, he thought he might have felt a tiny, tiny lick on his throat and was smiling with amusement and thinking, "Majestic idiot never could beha-" even as he drifted off.

~~~

With the sunlight slanting through the bedroom window, a low voice rose in the moans of grateful relief in stretching one's muscles. Bilbo vaguely noticed this, but wasn't even quite awake when a heavy body pounced onto his bed and wrapped him up in strong arms. Black and silver hair fell across his face as an eager mouth sucked at his earlobe, then flicked right up the edge to the point, which was also lavished with great deal of enthusiastic attention. Bilbo's eyes rolled back into his head. "Oh sweet Yavanna," he groaned.

"Just me," Thorin rumbled, pleased. He leaned back to look at Bilbo, smile seductive. "Might I invite you to a glorious reunion?" he murmured, and pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of Bilbo's mouth.

"Oh look, you're not a cat."

"I am aware," Thorin replied, settling into the cradle of Bilbo's hips. "Trust me, I am very aware," he said with a languid, sensual thrust. He had a smudge of soot across the bridge of his nose and along one cheek. It only served to make his eyes look bluer, the oaf.

"I am also very aware," Bilbo pointed out, moving under him sleepily. "Though there are concerns you might be in heat."

"Whatever shall we do, then?" Thorin began kissing whatever he could reach, and it was rather a lot. Bilbo just gave up and did the same, trying to make sure Thorin's mouth came into range as frequently as possible by keeping hold of his hair.

"Oh my, Dwalin will have kittens."

"I thought I was the one in heat." Thorin punctuated that remark in a predictable way. Bilbo may have made a small whimper, which suddenly turned to a sadder sound.

"Ghivashel," Thorin said, concerned, and began to pull back. Bilbo wrapped arms and legs around him and held on.

"I missed you so, I know I've told you, and I know I said I was frightened, too, but I missed you so."

"Beloved," Thorin murmured, holding him just as tightly. "I was, too, until Dwalin threw me into your arms."

"Wait. You yelled at me! You stood on the hearth and yelled at me!"

"Well." Thorin muttered into Bilbo's neck. "How could you not recognize me?"

Bilbo pushed on Thorin's shoulders until he could look him in the face. "You were twenty pounds of extremely wet long-haired cat! You looked like the dirtiest, angriest mop I've ever seen! I have seen you in all sorts of states, love, but you've never gone out before on errands and come back cat!"

Thorin sighed sulkily.

Framing his beloved's face with his hands, Bilbo pointed out, "Your natural majesty did penetrate my brain eventually." It was Thorin's turn to roll his eyes, and he pushed through Bilbo's hands to claim a kiss. He broke away with a serious expression.

"Lest I forget, you were magnificent yesterday. More than I could ever hoped or dreamed for in a spouse or Consort."

"Thorin..."

"No, no, love, I mean it. What you did yesterday for not just me, but for Dwalin...I can never thank you enough. He has little enough close family, and few he truly, truly trusts and I am grateful he has you."

"The oath..."

Thorin kissed him proudly again and again. "I don't just mean the oath -and it was telling that he chose yesterday - but I know. I was sure it would be Ori that would break and offer his oath first. The lad thinks you hung the moon. You have shown yourself as one who is worthy of following again and again, what I am saying is I don't think Dwalin had seen it quite as personally as he did yesterday. And then you followed the acceptance of his oath by calling him a dear friend. You may not have seen how it moved him, but I did."

"Oh that's just...I'm just a simple..."

"Bilbo. Enough," Thorin said seriously. "People who love you recognize your heart and wisdom, and your worth and value to our people. You are not just my treasure."

Bilbo's breath hitched in his throat. "It's just so...to be offered such trust..."

"I know. Have I said how glad I am you are willing to bear it with me?" He brushed his lips lightly over Bilbo's. "May I love you, ghivashel? Because I do, very much."

Arching under him, Bilbo smiled. "And I you." He wound his arms around Thorin's neck and gave him a soft kiss. "Dearest! You're home!"

Thorin's face was serious, but his eyes were full of joy. "I'm home."

~~~

And so it was well, and more than well, with Bilbo Baggins and his intended, Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, as they packed up the last of Bilbo's things before heading home to Erebor, their good friend Dwalin, Son of Fundin, by their side. No further hedgehogs or wizards were angered, very large amounts of good food were eaten, and Bilbo learned much more of how to properly insult a dwarf. (A great deal of that is not printable or should be heard by persons wearing or carrying possibly flammable material.)

If Thorin Oakenshield stalked through his days with a bit more grace, if he was slightly more demonstrative in his affections to consort and kin, if his battle reflexes were just a hair quicker, and if the king's contented sigh sounded more like a great cat's purr than it ought, only Bilbo and Dwalin seemed to notice, and if they did, they exchanged the smiles of old friends who had seen each other through much travail, who had forged bonds both in sorrow and in fun, and also were in possession of a trove of blackmail material against their lord and king, which they swore never to divulge. Dwarrow may like to hoard treasure, but hobbits also have a keen eye for the valuable, and both thought that the memories of a great cat streaking through a hobbit-hole, gleefully killing throw pillows for sport, were treasures too precious to be shared.

~~~