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Bilbo is standing with Dwalin, waiting for Thorin to finish some official kingly business (as Bilbo has come to think of it) before they head to lunch together, when Dwalin, gaze on Thorin across the hall, says, “It is good to see him happy again.”
Bilbo sends him a questioning look. “I would have thought the reclaiming of his homeland would bring him some measure of happiness.”
Dwalin looks at him curiously. “Aye, it would have, but for his grief.”
“His grief?”
Dwalin raises an eyebrow and seems to consider his words for a moment before he says, voice quiet but serious, “Over losing you, of course.” His tone suggests it should be obvious, but Bilbo’s eyes widen in surprise. Before he can think of a response, Dwalin continues. “He has been plagued with the guilt of how he treated you. Thinking you had died believing he despised you made the grief of losing you all the worse. Do not misunderstand, he has been a good king,” at this, Dwalin turns his gaze to Thorin again. “...The best and most worthy, but...I do not think I have seen him smile for a year.”
Bilbo was speechless. He had no idea he meant so much to Thorin, and was finding it difficult to believe.
“I don’t see why you’re so surprised,” Dwalin continues. “It would aggrieve anyone to wrong and then lose a dear friend, but to have wronged the one you love so gravely...it is no wonder Thorin has suffered so.”
There is a pause and then Dwalin’s words catch up to him. “I’m sorry, what? The one he loves?”
Dwalin stares at him, eyes narrowed and considering. “You...did not know?”
Bilbo just blinks at him, mouth hanging open in shock.
“Oh,” Dwalin says. “I thought for sure...Ah, well. If you would...avoid telling him I said anything I would be most grateful.”
Bilbo turns his gaze on Thorin once again. He must have noticed the movement because he turns his head to look at Bilbo and his stern face breaks into a gentle smile. Bilbo is helpless in the face of it and smiles back; he thinks he couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d tried. Thorin’s face brightens even more and when a dwarf next to him speaks to him, he seems reluctant to look away, but he does, leaving Bilbo to stare after him in stunned realization.
“Oh,” he says, breathlessly. “Oh, wow.”
***
Bilbo finally has the opportunity to speak to Thorin in private later that evening, when he and Thorin are lounging companionably by the fire in the royal sitting room, having just eaten and said their goodnights to the others.
“Thorin?”
“Yes?”
“I was wondering if I might ask you something?”
“Yes, of course.”
Bilbo nods, considering his next words carefully. “I was wondering if...well, I was wondering if I might stay longer. Here in Erebor.”
Thorin stares at him for a moment, blinking, before breaking into a wide smile. “Yes! Yes, of course,” he clears his throat, looking slightly embarrassed by his enthusiasm. “How long were you considering staying?”
“Well,” Bilbo says, steeling himself. “Indefinitely.”
Thorin stares at him again, jaw slack and face open in shock. He seems to shake himself out of his trance and says, quietly, “I…yes. Yes, please stay.” His voice is unusually timid and tinged with a tentative hope that is both beautiful and tragic to hear. It is the tone of a man who feels like he has no right to ask what he’s asking, but can do nothing but accept what has been given to him.
Bilbo feels a swell of emotion at that tone. Heart in his throat, he smiles helplessly at Thorin and slowly, shakily, Thorin smiles back. After a moment, he clears his throat and seems to gain some of his former energy and excitement back. He stands and begins pacing back and forth across the fireplace, talking quickly and animatedly. “We shall have to organize a party to retrieve all of your things, and I shall find you new housing. Perhaps, on the edge of the mountain with a balcony facing the sun. We shall build one if necessary. And I know how you love to garden, so we shall construct one for you. Is it possible to cultivate one on a balcony, do you think? Or perhaps we could-”
“Thorin,” Bilbo interrupts, standing to join him by the fireplace, resting a hand on his arm to stop his pacing. He does something he’s wanted to do for a long time; he brings his other hand up to take a piece of Thorin’s hair and smooths it between his fingers. He’s surprised by how soft it is. Thorin’s breath catching in his throat is so quiet Bilbo thinks he would not have heard it if he weren’t so focused on him, but it gives him the courage he needs to continue.
Unable to look Thorin in the eye, Bilbo stares at the hair sifting between his fingers and says, “Do you love me?”
Thorin lets out a shaky breath and tentatively brings a hand up to rest at the juncture of Bilbo’s neck and shoulder, thumb rubbing gently along his throat.
“Yes.” The word is a breathless whisper.
Bilbo looks up at him then and Thorin’s face is the most vulnerable he’s ever seen it, his eyes shining with unshed tears. I have brought him to this, Bilbo thinks. The great King Under the Mountain, shaking and overwhelmed because of me. It is at once a terrifying and thrilling thought. He reaches up and carefully cups his cheek. Thorin closes his eyes and leans into the touch.
“Good,” Bilbo says. “As I am terribly fond of you myself.”
This gains him a shaky laugh. “Just fond?” he says, voice gruff and unsteady.
“You did not have to say the actual words, so I don’t either,” Bilbo says stubbornly.
Thorin opens his eyes then and meets Bilbo’s with a gaze so intense Bilbo’s heart begins to pound anew.
“I love you, Bilbo. I love you and wish for you to stay in Erebor, but I could not ask you, for it is an honor I fear I do not deserve.”
“Nonsense,” Bilbo says after taking a moment to compose himself. “That’s utter nonsense, you...I err...well, all right, fair is fair after all. I, erm, I love you, too. Have for quite some time, in fact. Hm...yes.”
Thorin’s smile is not exactly blinding because that’s a ridiculous notion, really, but it certainly is something to behold and Bilbo is helpless to do anything but smile back at him. Bilbo notes that he is often quite helpless in the face of Thorin, but he finds that he doesn’t mind so much. Not if it means he continues to feel this quiet, blooming joy in his heart. He is uncertain of a lot of things: the reception of their relationship from the dwarves of Erebor and how much he will miss the Shire, of the largest concern. But as he stands here in front of Thorin, their future spreading out before him, unknown and unpredictable, he is certain of one thing: that it is their future, together. And he finds that that is quite enough to satisfy him. Quite enough and more.