The unfortunate thing about traveling, Bilbo decided as he lay staring up at the cave roof, was the 'luxury' of always sleeping in the most uncomfortable places. In fact, a large majority of the time Bilbo found himself swallowing dirt in the morning, having twigs violate his every orifice, hanging rather precariously from a tree or even on the rare occasion having an animal of some sort decide he seemed to possibly taste positively delicious.

Fortunately, although sometimes that was debatable, he was traveling with a large amount of Dwarves who all saw it fit that he was the runt of the litter and thus needed to be mothered more than he mothered them. Really, it was quite frustrating sometimes, other times it was plain brilliant because who didn't want to be surrounded by mad dwarves out for blood when you get a single nick on the arm? But now was not a brilliant time, oh no, now was one of those insufferable times where Bilbo was being beyond mothered and practically suffocated.

Literally suffocated.

Okay, yes he was the smallest, yes he did wear the least clothing, yes they just got caught in a downpour that would make a drooling troll proud, yes Bilbo was completely soaked to the bone, yes they did find shelter in a drafty cave and yes he was shivering because of the cold.

But that did not mean he needed all thirteen of the dwarves shoving him on the ground and practically cocooning him with their own bodies.

Bilbo resisted the urge to groan, having already been told off by Dwalin once, had a smack to the head by Gloin and been asked by Fili if he was having a rather 'personal' dream or something for creating such noises. But he was truly uncomfortable, the feeling of axe handles and heavy armor poking into his body, beards and hair of all colours and textures crawled over his face and frankly, the hard rock on his back was terrible. Not for the first time did he wish he could be back in the Shire, with a nice bed and a vacancy of snoring and drooling dwarves around him. It would be lovely, beyond lovely and downright perfect.

But no, it wasn't like he could extract himself from them anyway. On one side lay Fili, his brother splayed out on his chest who had one arm flopping over Bilbo's chest, clenching his shirt and making the hobbit almost swear when his bare skin was pushed into the open air when his shirt was yanked up by the other. He'd thought to waken Kili, but the punch to the face Ori had gotten the other day for doing such a thing really made him change his mind. Speaking of, Ori was curled up around his leg, hands placed on his thigh as his head rested on Fili's, but it wasn't the position that made it uncomfortable, but the fact every time Ori breathed it would hit the patch of skin on his waist, tickling it and driving him into a near giggling mess as he pushed aside the urge to wriggle uncontrollably. Bofur was wrapped around his legs, holding down a blanket that the dwarves had agreed was the only dry one and it should go on Bilbo. It'd started off around the hobbit's chest, but Bofur, who'd been lying over Bilbo, had slid down with it, bunching it up to form a sort of pillow.

He didn't know if it was cute or not, but he knew it restricted his leg movement, driving him insane.

Dwalin and Balin were above him, their sides pressed into the top of his head as well the others lying on either side of him, Gloin and Oin were sprawled over top of the previous two, snoring loudly, Nori and Dori were curled around Bofur, Bomfur and Bifur were curled up on the other side of their King… who was lying directly on the other side of Bilbo.

Normally, the hobbit wouldn't have a problem being so close to the king, not at all, but the way he was lying drove Bilbo up the wall. One arm was stretched out, originally to tug on Fili's hair for asking the inappropriate question, but the King had fallen asleep and left the arm there for Bilbo to awkwardly rest on as a pillow. It was comfortable, the part that wasn't decked out in armor, and Bilbo had loved wriggling his head into the other's fur covered elbow. But that still wasn't as uncomfortable as the fact Thorin was on his side and turned towards him, his face right there to look at if Bilbo were to tip his head back, almost close enough for him to brush his nose against the others chin. It was a bit disconcerting, but even then that couldn't compare to the other hand that was resting lightly on the even wider expanse of revealed skin on Bilbo's side. Well, it had been light until he'd moved a bit quickly and Thorin had suddenly wrapped his whole hand around his waist -was hard to believe he had that small a waist compared to a dwarfs hand- and tugged him closer. The thumb stroking his skin had done it all in fro Bilbo though, and he'd laid there desperately hoping for dawn to come around sooner, or for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

Then he'd probably come face to face with bloody goblins again though. That was better than this situation though.

"Stop thinking and go to sleep."

He refused to think that the deep voice actually made him shiver. Nope, no way, physically impossible that. But despite that he couldn't help but turn his head to look up at Thorin, trying not to jump when he saw the dark eyes looking at him through a sleepy fog. Bilbo's breath hitched in throat as he watched him, eyes trailing over the others face with wonder, lingering on the beard and lips, before the dwarfs hand on his waist clenched and he almost yelped in surprise.

"I said stop Halfling, you're giving me a headache."

"What… how?"

Thorin didn't answer, giving Bilbo a brief look before he closed his eyes again, sleep wanting to take him. Bilbo felt it though, the way he was stroking Bilbo's skin lightly showing he was still awake.

"I can't sleep," he finally mumbled after a while, when the stroking had dwindled down to barely existent and Thorin's breathing had become slower, making the thumb speed up again and Thorin's eyes slip halfway open.

"And why is that, Little One?"

Bilbo refused to blush at the nickname, he always said he hated it but when Thorin said it… well that could be looked at later right? "I… I don't know. I mean, I'm comfortable, but not really, and my brain is just-"

"You are thinking too much, stop."

"Easier said than done."

"It will be easier when you are comfortable. Sleep will call you."

"But… I don't-"

"Move Halfling, the others will not wake."

Bilbo was doubtful, utterly doubtful, especially when the others were all on him in some way and the only comfortable position for him would be to roll on his side. He looked up though, seeing Thorin just look at him expectantly, before he took a deep breath and slowly rolled over.

He could hear a few grumbles, the way Ori clung even tighter to his legs, Bofur buried his face even deeper into his heels, Kili yanked his shirt. He could feel himself about to roll back onto his back and he must have looked stunned as Thorin instantly slid his hand from his waist over to the other side -Bilbo did not shudder from the touch, nope.- and tugged him fully over, making the small hobbit crash into his chest.

Everything went quiet, the sounds of the dwarves mumbles barely heard and Bilbo almost giggled as they seemed to rearrange themselves automatically, The brothers wriggling closer and Ori snuggling into his practically bare -thanks to Kili's inability to let go- back while Bofur sighed and pillowed his head on his calf instead. Bilbo couldn't help but smile before turning and looking at the large expanse of dwarf chest in front of him.

He felt it rumbling against his hands, pressed flat against it, and he couldn't help but smile when he realised that Thorin was chuckling, and with his own laugh he looked up and was surprised to see Thorin looking back at him.

"I told you they would not wake."

"Yes, thank you oh wise one."

Thorin just smiled at him before wriggling himself, stretching out the arm that still served as Bilbo's pillow and flexing the hand resting on Bilbo's waist, drawing him even closer.

Oh god.

They were cuddling.

Bilbo almost freaked, his eyes going wide and his hands curled around the fur of Thorin's coat, the fur that completely encased him, and his breath came out a little hitched. Thorin must've realized something was wrong, as he was instantly squeezing the hobbit -closer, of course.- and breathing in his ear.

"Little One?"

"Sh-Should we…" he couldn't even get the words out, his face flaming up in both embarrassment and shame. It was dreadful. Dammit. Thorin seemed to catch on though, pushing Bilbo away slightly and smiling a rare smile at him.

"Bilbo-" and no the hobbit did not just about squeal as the other said his name with that relatively addicting voice, "-you needn't worry about the others opinions. Nor should you worry about anything but yourself. I am warm, I am comfortable, it would be logical for you to… 'cuddle' up to me."

And Bilbo recognized that as Thorin's way of offering his arms to sleep in, with an excuse for the others in the morn. The hobbit pursed his lips, his hands still deep in the fur but he was playing with it now, stroking it softly before his hands moved up to run through the dark beard and twirl the braids through his fingers. Thorin didn't look from him though, silently waiting for the answer Bilbo would give and the hobbit couldn't help but smile as he lent in and pressed his forehead to the others neck, his lips moving against Thorin's collarbone as he spoke.

"Or maybe its because you're… you're Thorin?" he whispered, feeling Thorin drop his chin onto his head and his arm drew him close to his chest once again. The hobbit smiled, wriggling closer still, and he managed to extract a leg from Bofur's grip to slide in between Thorin's, entwining their bodies completely.

"As long as you're happy, Little One."

Bilbo blushed.

"As long as I'm in your arms, I think I might be."

The blush deepened as Thorin kissed his head before curling up the other arm to rest over Bilbo's back, cocooning the hobbit into his body and Bilbo sighed contently, his eyes slipping shut as he felt completely comfortable.

"Oh gods, its about bloody time! Nori! You owe me!"

His eyes shot open again and he heard the deep rumble of the chest he was curled up against showing Thorin was laughing. Instantly he was pushing against it, turning away from the fur only to gasp and squirrel back in as the light of daybreak burned his eyes. Had time gone so fast?

"Nay, only if they have kissed."

"Well? Uncle? Have you?"

Bilbo frowned, hearing the sound of Fili's desperate voice as Thorin laughed, replying with a negative. Something in his chest felt warm, and he refused to think it was his heart because that was just corny, but he couldn't help but smile as he pulled back, looking up into Thorin's literally glittering eyes.

"Morning Little On-"

He was cut off as Bilbo crushed their lips together, his arms wrapping around Thorin's neck as he fell back and dragged the dwarf on top of him. He heard wolf-whistles, groans, and excited chatter above him, but he didn't care too much as he felt Thorin smile against his lips and kiss back, hands on his still revealed skin.

Instantly he was pushing Thorin away and lunging towards Kili, eyes wild with murder.

"YOU!" he roared, picking up a frying pan, that had probably been about to be used to cook breakfast, and whacked the squealing dwarf over the head. "RIPPED MY SHIRT!"

He vaguely heard and saw Dwalin sidle up to Thorin, who was watching him with a affectionate smile, despite it being his nephew Bilbo was abusing, and he almost blushed when he heard what the other dwarf said to the king.

"You have chosen an interesting mate, King Thorin, are you sure?"

That warmth in his chest returned, powering his destructive hand somehow, as he heard Thorin reply a gentle "Yes."