Thorin sat tense in his cramped airplane seat, drumming his fingers on the armrest restlessly. His closest friend, Dwalin, sat next to him, flipping his phone open every five minutes to check the time.

"How much longer?" Thorin rumbled.

"Two hours left," Dwalin growled, looking agitated. He was just as eager to get home as his friend was.

Thorin grumbled under his breath, imagining the smooth skin, soft cheeks, and pretty pink lips that awaited him at home.

"How's Ori?" he asked, trying to distract himself.

"Fine. Knitting baby clothes left and right and working mad hours at the school, but that's nothing unusual."

"When's the babe due, again?"

"Two weeks. Ori and I are heading up next week to stay with the mother until it happens."

Thorin nodded, thinking of his own little ones waiting for him at home. He settled back in the seat, closed his eyes, and waited.

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"Frodo, please eat your grapefruit," Bilbo begged as he attempted to spoon a bit of apple baby food into Thornton's mouth. The eight-year-old picked sullenly at the offending fruit before him, then glanced up at Bilbo through his lashes.

'Uncle Bilbo?"

'Hm?"

"When will Uncle Thorin be home?"

Bilbo looked up, smiling, as the 18-month-old in the highchair beside him spat a big glob of baby food on the tray. "I don't know, darling. He said to expect him around noon, but you know your uncle. He'll probably get lost in the airport again."

Frodo giggled, a bright, happy sound, and Bilbo reached down to ruffle his nephew's dark curls.

The phone rang suddenly, breaking the early morning tranquility, and Bilbo fumbled for the handheld device, smiling when he recognized the name on the caller ID. "Hello?" he answered.

"Bilbo!" his best friend Ori exclaimed. "Did you hear? Dwalin and Thorin's flight was moved up. They'll be back much earlier."

"Moved up? Why didn't the confounded man tell me?" Bilbo picked up Thornton and settled the baby on his hip, holding the phone up to his ear with his shoulder. "How am I supposed to pick him up from the airport if he doesn't tell me when he's to land?"

"I dunno," Ori replied, and Bilbo could picture him shrugging his cardigan-clad shoulders. "Dwalin told me he would just take a cab. Perhaps Thorin will as well."

"Aw, but Frodo was so excited. He was going to make a sign and everything."

Bilbo and Ori chatted for a bit while Bilbo burped Thornton, but they were soon interrupted by a knock on the door. Bilbo promised to call later and hung up, then went to answer the door. He was followed closely by a curious Frodo, who abandoned his morning cartoons to see what his uncle was up to.

He pulled open the door, expecting the delivery man, or perhaps Hamfast, and stopped in shock at what he saw.

Thorin Durin, dressed in the standard military uniform of camouflage pants and jacket and tan boots, stood before him. His raven hair was cropped short, and his once thick black beard was little more stubble. He had a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a broad grin on his face.

Bilbo -short, slender Bilbo, with his curly golden hair, kind green eyes, and gentle disposition- all but tackled his husband, tears welling up in his eyes, and buried his face in his husband's scratchy canvas jacket, stifling a sob. Thorin wrapped his muscular arms around him, and as Bilbo felt a soft kiss pressed into his curls, he knew it was all going to be okay.

Because this was Thorin who was finally home, safe and whole after far too long. Bilbo didn't think he'd ever been so happy to see someone in his life.

Thorin soon drew back, though not before kissing Bilbo soundly on the lips, and lifted a beaming Frodo into his arms easily. He nuzzled into the small child's neck, eliciting loud giggles, and kissed a cooing Thornton on the forehead, trailing his big fingers across soft, smooth baby cheeks.

Bilbo knew this joy wouldn't last forever. All too soon Thorin would be shipped out yet again, leaving Bilbo to raise their children and worry about his faraway husband. But for now their little family was together, whole and happy, and Bilbo would thank Yavanna for that everyday.

"I love you," he whispered to Thorin as his husband wrapped an arm around his shoulder and herded his small family inside.

"And I you, my one and only," Thorin whispered back, kissing Bilbo one the lips once more as the door shut behind them.

Yes, Bilbo decided as he watched Frodo burrow into Thorin's neck, he could definitely get used to having his husband home.

_Line break Line break Line break_

Later that night, after the children had been put to sleep, Bilbo burrowed under the covers with his husband, watching as snow swirled outside their bedroom window, feeling sleepy and content. The grandfather clock in the living room chimed twelve times, and Bilbo grinned into his husband's chest.

"Thorin?"

"Yes, love?'

"Happy Christmas."