Author's Note: This is my first attempt at any fanfiction for The Hobbit so I'm not at all sure if this will work. Tumblr has got me shipping Bilbo/Thorin, or at least wishing to see more of them. I've asked for prompts for "Thilbo" on my account. An anonymous user requested possessive!Thorin and tostandwithoutthewords requested possessive!Thorin and cuddling!Thorin. This is the result.

Please do enjoy and if you would like to request a prompt, find me on Tumblr. My URL is bilbogivesmecourage.

Bilbo was tired. He was hungry and cold and scared and just so tired. His time in The Shire seemed a different life altogether. They had traveled so far, Thorin's company, and already had a great deal of adventure behind them, yet Erebor still loomed in the distance. There was much yet to conquer before Bilbo had any chance of returning to his home. Once in his life he had settled in front of a warm fire with a cup of tea and a book for comfort. Now his comfort came so rarely and slightly, that he almost didn't notice it at all. At this point sleeping indoors at all seemed to the greatest of luxuries.

So when Bombur suggested taking a night of rest with his family in the outskirts of the Misty Mountains, Bilbo was quick to support the plan. In the end, despite Thorin's belief that they should press forward rather than resting, the dwarves had agreed that a night of merriment was long overdue and Bombur, Bofur, and Bifur were happy to hear that they would indeed be rewarded with time spent in the company of their family.

After only a short trek through the forest, the company arrived at the home of Bombor and Bofur's fourth cousin, Daral. Like the dwarves Bilbo traveled with, Daral had been driven from Erabor by Smaug. He had fled with three of his fellow dwarves, Norin, Soigal, and Lindor, to the outskirts of the mountains. When it became clear that Erabor was lost, the dwarves built a home from the wood of the trees. With nothing else to fill their time they had perfected the home, providing plenty of room for thirteen dwarves, one wizard, and one hobbit to comfortably stay the night.

The family was a merry bunch. They welcomed the party warmly, offered a large dinner, prepared deliciously by Soigal, and set to drinking. Gandalf retired to bed at an early hour, leaving Bilbo in the company of dwarves. Bilbo quickly found himself unable to keep up with the intake of mead. Hobbits were not born with the seemingly natural ability to consume massive amounts of alcohol that dwarves possessed, but that didn't stop him from trying. After more swallows than he could remember, Bilbo was feeling considerably warm inside, and the world was looking more than a bit fuzzy.

"You're a little thing, aren't you?" he heard a gruff, unrecognized voice say. Bilbo turned to see Norin beside him, leaning against the wooden table. They had only been briefly introduced in the early hours of the night, but Norin seemed pleasant enough. He was young and stout, with a long dark beard and blue eyes that shone rather nicely.

"I am a Hobbit," Bilbo chirped proudly. "A," he paused to burp, patting himself on the stomach. "A Baggins of Bag End," he finished, his pride unwavering.

"So you are," Norin flopped into the open chair beside Bilbo. "So you are," he said again, narrowing his eyes and moving to examine Bilbo closer.

"I've never actually seen a halfing up close before," he mumbled. "Not nearly as ugly as I'd expected."

Bilbo took another long swig of his mead and found that it didn't burn his throat at all anymore, not even a bit. "Same for dwarves." he said quickly. "You're not complete brutes." Realizing that this wasn't a proper or polite thing to say, he fumbled quickly for something better. "I don't mean that dwarves are, well not that they aren't. You know, dwarves are, well, they're lovely, aren't they? I suppose. They are just…" The alcohol in his brain rattled his thoughts and made them impossible to voice.

His struggles were relieved when Norin unexpectedly leaned forward and planted a hard kiss on his lips. Bilbo was too stunned to react. He froze as Norin's chapped lips pressed into his for a moment before the dwarf pulled away.

"Come on then, halfing," Norin said, pulling at Bilbo's coat.

"So-sorry," Bilbo said, resisting the pull. "Come… where exactly?"

"To bed," the dwarf answered, his voice matter of fact.

"Oh. I… No. Um. No," Bilbo set his drink down. He was muddled by mead, yes, but he wasn't this muddled. "I am sorry. But no. I can't. I really can't,"

Norin ignored him and pulled Bilbo up by his collar. "Nonsense, halfing. Let us celebrate the night. Come along," he said with a grin, pulling a reluctant Bilbo behind him.

Bilbo looked frantically around the room, his head swimming. He didn't want this, but he wasn't sure how to politely put an end to it. The alcohol coursing through his system did make him reluctant to put up much of a fight, and it had been quite a long time since he had been close to anyone. Perhaps it wouldn't be such a terrible thing if he were to…

Bilbo's thoughts were abruptly cut off as he felt a strong hand grasp his shoulder and pull him out of Norin's hold.

He turned to see Thorin standing tall behind him, his eyes dark and filled with anger.

"Oi!" Norin exclaimed, thinking that Bilbo had wriggled out of his reach. He turned sharply but froze when he was met face to face with Thorin.

"Thorin Oakenshield," he breathed, giving a slight bow.

Thorin pulled Bilbo closer and rested his hand across his chest, holding him tightly. "Norin," he said with a nod. "Is there something going on here?" he asked, his voice sharp.

Norin's eyes widened and he struggled to keep eye contact with Thorin. "N-nothing," he said. "Nothing is going on. Nothing at all."

Bilbo was close enough to Thorin now to breathe in his scent. He smelled, surprisingly, much like home. Like leather and good food and musk. Warm and comforting, with a hint of mead. Ah, mead. Bilbo's thoughts wandered casually to if he could have another cup. Thorin's hand tightened on his chest and Bilbo forgot about mead altogether. He resisted the urge to lean back and melt closer to the dwarf.

"Do not touch what does not belong to you," Thorin all but growled, his brow furrowing.

Norin gave another nervous bow before turning and scurrying out of the room. Bilbo was left pinned by Thorin's hand, pressed against him. Without a word Thorin lead Bilbo out of the large room and down the hallway into a bedroom. Thorin had, of course, been given his own luxury room. The dwarves respected him a way that had caught Bilbo off guard at first. This man was truly a king.

Bilbo didn't argue when Thorin pushed him onto the bed. "Sleep," he commanded. "You've had far more mead than your body can handle."

Bilbo shook his head furiously. "I am just fine, thank you," he said, hiccupping loudly as soon as he'd spoken.

"We'll be on our way in the morning. You must rest."

"I don't believe that I want to," Bilbo answered, his lips curling into a pout.

"Stubborn halfing," Thorin grumbled, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

"It's cold," Bilbo said.

Thorin huffed but said nothing as he pulled the quilt on the bed to cover Bilbo's small body. "Now sleep," he said. His voice but harsh but his eyes were soft in a way that betrayed his true feelings.

"What about Norin?" Bilbo asked, still trying to steady himself as he felt the lasting effects of the mead.

"What about him?"

"Will he be cross with me?" Bilbo's asked, his voice small.

Thorin ran a hand over his own mouth, drawing a long breath. "He has no right." Bilbo realized that his expression had grown dark again with anger. His body seemed to tremble slightly. "He has no right to be cross and he had no right to touch you," he said. "No one does."

"Is this your bed?" Bilbo asked, glancing at his surroundings.

"Sleep, hobbit," Thorin replied.

"It's quite nice, this room."


"But is this your…"

"Yes," Thorin snapped. "Yes, it is my bed. For the night. Now sleep in it and stop reminding me of your lack of worth."

Bilbo's face fell and he leaned back against the pillow. "I am still cold," he said forlornly.

Thorin gave a grunt of exasperation before kicking off his boots and lying down on the bed. He settled beside Bilbo and then promptly pulled the hobbit into his arms, wrapping them completely around his small body.

"Now will you sleep?" he murmured, his voice shockingly close to Bilbo's ear.

Bilbo reveled in the warmth that Thorin provided and pressed himself closer to the dwarf's chest. He clutched Thorin's ruffled shirt in fists and nuzzled into him. "I am sorry that I'm a bother to you, Thorin," he said after a moment of quiet.

Thorin sighed and wrapped his arms a little tighter around Bilbo. "You are not a bother, halfling."

"Night," Bilbo muttered into Thorin's shirt.

"Sleep, Bilbo," Thorin said.

Bilbo could not be sure, but as he drifted off, he could have sworn he felt the soft press of warm lips on his forehead.

He slept.

Author's Note: I would love any feedback. Again, you can find me on Tumblr at bilbogivesmecourage or on Twitter at SkyyTweet. Thanks!