Peach🌱GSS

He had frozen, staring up at Thorin with alarm and shame and something much, much warmer churning in his stomach. And he had watched Thorin’s face turn from surprise at his own boldness, to curiosity, and then to something entirely else. Something almost ... Knowing. Bilbo had flushed at the thought, and Thorin, damn him, had smirked, his beard twitching at the corner as he suppressed his smile. But he had merely muttered something about Bilbo taking more care on his walks in the forests around the mountain, and had turned on his heel, leaving the poor Hobbit flumouxed behind him.

Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad if that first time had also been the last time. But it wasn't.

From then on, it seemed that Thorin was finding every excuse to touch Bilbo’s hair. He would find a way to surreptitiously brush his fingers through the tips of Bilbo’s curls, on the pretense of freeing them from being trapped by his collar. During meetings, he would bend to murmur something to the Hobbit, either an explanation of a custom or a suggestion for his next Ambassadorial visit, but every time he would be close enough that his warm breath would move the Hobbit's hair. And on one occasion, when they found themselves alone as the earliest arrivals at breakfast one morning, he even became bold enough to reach out and tuck a stray lock behind the Hobbit's pointed ear, implicating that it would have ended up in his food had the Dwarf not intervened.

But the final straw came when they were treating with King Bard and his court. The Dale contingent were visiting at Bilbo's request to finalise plans with the Dwarves for re-opening trade routes and beginning the long, slow process of undoing all of Smaug's extensive damage to the farming lands around the base of the mountain. During the evening's entertainment, Bilbo stood chatting to Bard, trying to fend off the Man's praise for his continued efforts to make their talks work. He was just brushing off another of these compliments when he felt a familiar presence behind him, and his whole body stilled.

'You are right, of course, to say such things of our dear Master Baggins,' Thorin rumbled, his voice light and jovial as he drew the Man's attention. Bilbo willed away the blush that was already creeping into his cheeks, but he found it impossible to ignore when Thorin went on, 'He has been most invaluable to us, and to your people too, I hear. He truly is a credit to his own people, as well as my kingdom, would you not agree?'

Bilbo did not hear Bard's reply. He was entirely too distracted by the feeling of the King's huge hand making contact with the back of his head. His body went tight, his mind fuzzing, as those thick fingers slid into his hair. The final straw came when the King tugged, albeit gently, at his hair. The sensation sent heat flooding through him, and he had to swallow hard as he drew himself up to his full height, his gaze fixed on Bard.

'Excuse me for a moment, won't you.' His voice was more clipped then he meant it to be, but he couldn't find himself to care as he hurried from the hall. He just needed to get away, to get out, before he -

'Master Baggins!' Reluctantly, he stopped. No matter his turmoil, he could not ignore the King. He turned slowly, and waited as Thorin approached, walking quickly down the corridor towards him. As the Dwarf got closer, Bilbo could see that he looked abashed, and indeed his voice was low and humble when he finally reached the Hobbit and murmured, 'I must give my most sincere apologies. I had no intention of embarrassing you in front of our guests.'

'Then just what was your intention?' Bilbo exploded, suddenly unable to contain himself any longer. The King's eyebrows rose, but the dam was broken, and Bilbo could not stop the flood of his emotions pouring out. 'And for that matter, what exactly has been your intention these past weeks, of playing with me in such a manner? I know the customs around hair among your people, Thorin. Do you mean to make a fool of me? To give me the impression that you care for me, and then cast me away? Or is it simple curiosity of another being's reactions? Is that it? Are you toying with me just to see how far you can take it?'

Suddenly - he wasn't entirely sure how - he found himself pressed against the carved stone wall of the corridor. He gasped at the sensation of cold stone, felt even through his thick tunic and breaches, but his breath escaped him entirely when he realised that Thorin was looming over him. There was barely and inch of space between them, which gave him a clear view of the King's face. And he was shocked to see anger there, mingled with something akin to shame. And underneath it, something much deeper, something that made Bilbo's head spin.

Thorin's voice was thick, almost syruppy, when he rumbled, 'If you would agree to accompany me to my chambers, I will prove to you that it has never been my intention to merely toy with you. This ... It has never been anything so shallow, I assure you.'

It took only a moment of scanning the Dwarf's features to determine that he was entirely serious, and despite the heat that pooled in his stomach, Bilbo found that he could not resist the urge to pay Thorin back, at least a little, for the suspense and anguish he had caused over the past weeks.

'No.' The King's face fell, his eyes hardening instantly. He began to withdraw, to pull away from the Hobbit, clearly taking the rejection to heart. But he didn't get far. Bilbo reached out and grasped the lapels of the King's fur-lined coat, tugging him back in. And Thorin went willingly, his expression changing, softening, as he saw that Bilbo was smiling. When the King was close enough to hear, Bilbo grinned wider and murmured, 'My chambers are closer.'