Sniffle, Sneeze, Cough and Wheeze

Bilbo coughed heartily and buried his face into the pillow, shaking uncontrollably as he continued to sweat out the fever he'd had for two days straight now.

The water had done him no good, of course. It was cold and he was a hobbit and he hadn't even known how to swim but they had to get out, right? It was the only way he could have saved them all and he wasn't getting left behind, not now. They'd come so far... He'd come so far, only to now be taken down by a fever.

At least, his fevered mind supplied, they were in Lake Town now. There were soft beds and a warm hearth and medicine of sorts to be had, but...

He sneezed roughly, head jerking with the motion. He groaned and started to cough again, coughing until he brought up phlegm and then coughing some more until he threw up in the bucket that someone had thoughtfully plunked next to his bedside.

His vomiting turned to dry retching and he was still clinging to the bucket when there were three knocks at the door. Who in the blazes-

"Just a moment!" he called weakly, putting the bucket down and grabbing firmly at the blankets, wrenching them up to his chin.

The door swung open with no regard to his response and Kili's head popped around the corner. "Still sick as a dog, then, Bilbo?"

Bilbo sighed - which was more a wheeze at this point - and dropped his head back onto the pillow. "Where is everyone?" he asked, instead of answering the question that was painfully obvious.

"Dinner," Kili answered, limping into the room. "Gone down and promised to bring me something back up since I can't walk past the hallway." He flopped down in the chair. "Figured you might want some company."

Not really, Bilbo thought, painfully rolling over onto his side. He didn't say it out loud. It wasn't exactly the most polite thing, even if he did feel horrible. He sighed again and closed his eyes, shivering so hard that he thought he might just shiver right off the bed and end up on the floor.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, hobbit."

You're no better, Bilbo thought sourly, gripping the blanket tighter.

"Your blankets are soaking wet," Kili pointed out.

"I know," Bilbo said.

"Looks like you've wet yourself."

"Well, I haven't," Bilbo retorted sharply.

"Why haven't you gotten a new blanket?"

"Well, I haven't felt like it, have I?" Bilbo snapped, coughing roughly into the crook of his arm and immediately regretting it when it didn't stop.

He wasn't paying attention to anything because of that and when his blankets were whisked away and a blast of cold air made his shivering re-double, he cried out in equal parts irritation and utter exhaustion.

"Are all sick hobbits this fussy?" Kili mused.

Bilbo winced a second later when something landed on top of him. It took him a minute to realise that it was another pile of blankets... clean and fresh and comfortable this time. "T-T-Thanks..."

"Water?"

Bilbo nodded miserably, tasting bile in his mouth but swallowing it back. He was not going to be reduced to being curled over a bucket in the presence of someone if he could help it.

Kili limped over with a cup of water. Bilbo sat up enough to take a few shaky sips, eyes falling closed on their own accord. He was sick and tired and they were meant to be continuing to the Mountain soon and if he didn't get better he wasn't going to be able to go with the Dwarves, and he knew that worrying about it defeated the purpose of relaxing and taking it easy to get better but he couldn't help it. This was his journey now, too.

"Just relax," Kili said, taking the cup when Bilbo failed to remember he was drinking. A firm hand on his shoulder - too firm, really - pushed him back into his pillows. He couldn't argue, not that he wanted to.

"Thanks," he instead whispered again. "Rest, too..." he mumbled. It wasn't just him. Kili had been poisoned. He should be resting, too.

"I'll be fine," Kili retorted.

"Dwarves..." Bilbo mumbled, wrapping his blankets around him tightly. "S'stubborn..." He coughed weakly and huffed, feeling the breath rattle in his chest and make his body feel neglected and beaten.

"Not a bad thing," Kili replied cheerfully, voice nearby again.

Something cold and wet and scratchy landed on Bilbo's forehead, making him jump. It took him another delayed moment to figure this one out; the thin trickle of cold water running back into his sweat-soaked hair helped him to realise it was a wet cloth.

Instead of a thanks (for the third time), all Bilbo managed was a weak "Mmm" as his mouth didn't seem to have the capability of opening any longer. His muscles had had quite enough from the vomiting and coughing and talking.

"Go to sleep, Bilbo. Bard'll bring by something to eat for you later if you can stomach it, I'd think. But good luck with that."

"Mmhmmm..." Bilbo smiled faintly, or, at least, tried to, sniffling slightly as he turned his face more comfortably in his pillow. He ought to be saying thank you again - but he'd said it twice and surely that counted for something, didn't it? - and he wanted to tell Kili to take it easy, but it was a lost battle. He was too tired.

Instead, he just made a mental promise to help Kili out when he himself was able... although, at this rate, his mind supplied, Kili might recover quicker than him.

Bilbo fell asleep to that thought, chasing fever dreams of dragons and gold and Kili's injury, and finally, finally making it back to The Shire one day (but only after he accomplished his goal here, of course).

It's always difficult to write a sick!fic for this fandom, I think. With Sherlock, it's easier. There's only two of them and they have a very deep, very obvious bond. But with The Hobbit? Yes, all the Dwarves do care about Bilbo and we see that, but he doesn't have a Sherlock within that group, so to speak. So, it ended up being both Kili and Bilbo - I mean, Kili was injured, anyway.

Yes... the timeline is, again, a bit messy, but I've only seen DoS once, it's been awhile, and you can overlook that in the face of a sick!fic with some awesome Kili/Bilbo cuteness.

I do not own The Hobbit. Thank you!