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Bilbo wasn't certain what he'd expected to happen once the quest was done. He'd never allowed himself to think that far ahead. It seemed rather pointless to think about what came after 'tomorrow' when he never knew if he'd even survive 'today'. Survive he did though and now that the quest was over Bilbo didn't know what to do with himself.
He could go back to the Shire, Bilbo supposed. That had been the plan in the beginning after all. And if at some point during the journey that plan had changed- shifted and morphed along with his feelings- no one else would ever have to know. It's not like he could stay in Erebor. Not any more. Certainly not with the princes gone and Thorin's farewell still ringing in his ears and without- well, it was best not thought about. Simply put, staying was no longer an option which meant he would have to leave.
With the chaos of 3 armies recovering from battle and the rebuilding of Erebor it is ridiculously easy to sneak around gathering supplies without anyone being the wiser. Especially when one has a magic ring such as Bilbo's. It's the coward's way out, he knows, to plan everything in secret and avoid the remaining members of the company as he has. But despite what the others may think Bilbo knows he has never been brave and isn't about to start now. Somehow through everything he's managed to survive but he doesn't think he could live through saying goodbye. Especially if it should prove not to be good at all as he suspects it would.
Before he leaves though there is one last thing he has to do. It is his birthday- or close enough as far as Bilbo can understand the dwarrow calendar and in proper hobbit tradition he wants to give gifts. The Company of Thorin Oakenshield- his dwarves- have become more a family than any of his flesh and blood currently living and he wishes to honor them as such. That they may no longer view him in such high esteem doesn't signify. And so, the night before his departure with his ring firmly in place, Bilbo sneaks around to deliver his gifts.
They are little things. Bilbo doesn't have much especially since he refused his 14th share of the treasure but everything he gives has value to him: the last of his brass buttons, a handkerchief stolen from the Wood-Elves palace, the little bit of Longbottom Leaf he'd managed to save, his mother's favorite scone recipe and last, to Dwalin, a key.
It wasn't at all the proper way to do things, giving a key. Any good hobbit from the Shire would be appalled to hear of it. Not at all proper but Bilbo didn't have any flowers and he was leaving but he could't leave without saying something, even if it didn't involve any words. His key to Bag End would have to do and Bilbo both hoped and feared that Dwalin would understand the message. Not that it would matter in the end with both of them half way across Arda from each other. Bilbo just hoped he could remember where he kept his spare.
Without anyone being the wiser, Bilbo delivered his gifts and left Erebor. All he took with him was the supplies needed to reach Beorn's, his trusty Sting, the mithril shirt from Thorin, and a small knife such as one would use to cut their supper that he was sure wouldn't be missed. By the time the dwarves began to rise from their beds Bilbo was already several hours away.
+
It didn't come as much surprise to Bilbo that Bag End didn't feel like home anymore. He hadn't really expected it to. That didn't mean it didn't hurt though returning to its familiar halls and finding no comfort there.
Bag End was the same (once Bilbo had managed to retrieve all his auctioned belongings). Hobbiton and the whole of the Shire were the same. Bilbo was not the same. He had changed not just in appearance and temperament but something fundamental had changed inside of him. He returned to Bag End and settled back into his old routines and habits quickly enough but he would never again be the same hobbit he once was. Some days, good days, he didn't even want to be.
It was almost a year later when Bilbo's orderly life was again interrupted. He was once again in his house robe, this time thrown over his night clothes as he cleaned up after his first breakfast. He was just drying up the last of his dishes when he heard the front door open. This was alarming firstly because there was no one Bilbo could think of amongst his friends and family members in the Shire who would just walk in unannounced, especially so early in the morning. Even more worrisome though was the fact that Bilbo had yet to unlock his door for the day and no one had a key. No one except Dwalin, Bilbo remembered as he rounded the corner into the entryway, knife in hand.
"You gave me the key."
Bilbo jumped at the sound of the dwarf's voice. It was ony as he moved again that he realized how long he had been standing there, just staring. "I did." He croaked.
The silence fell again and this time Bilbo was painfully aware of each moment that passed. Finally and with a great amount of difficulty he pulled himself together- at least a little bit. "You must be hungry. Come, I'll get you something to eat." Not waiting for an answer Bilbo turned and fled back into the kitchen.
Dwalin followed not far behind. Bilbo tried to lose himself in the cooking but he was at all times keenly aware of the dwarf's eyes on him. It was frightening and exhilarating to be the subject of Dwalin's focus once again and Bilbo tried really hard not to think about it.
"Here we are." Bilbo said, putting a plate overflowing with food at his normal place at the table. He quickly grabbed the silverware from the drying rack for his guest and gestured for him to sit down.
"Aren't you going to eat?" Dwalin asked.
"I just finished first breakfast." But Bilbo took a scone from the plate and sat across from Dwalin.
It had always been satisfying watching Dwalin eat, Bilbo remembered as he watched him now. He always ate with such relish and joy that occasionally bordered on lustful. Oh the feasts Bilbo had promised to make him! Suddenly feeling self-conscious he turned his gaze to the window. A noise of surprise had him turning back.
Dwalin was not quite finished with his meal yet but it seemed to be the silverware that had stolen his attention. "You stole my knife. You little thief." He said without any heat. "You stole my knife."
"I d-didn't think you'd miss it." Bilbo defended. "There were quite a few in the treasury. Nicer ones made out of gold and with jeweled handles."
"Gold makes for rubbish knives." Dwalin was still staring at the knife in question. There was nothing terribly special about it. Its iron blade was sharp and the etchings on the handle, not quite symmetrical, were slightly worn away from many years of use. Its only value to Bilbo was it being the knife Dwalin had used for the entirety of their time together. At every meal from Hobbiton to the depths of Erebor Bilbo had seen that knife in Dwalin's hand. And so, when Bilbo left he took the knife with him and used it for each meal of his own. Sometimes, on bad days, he imagined he could feel the warmth of the dwarf's hand still infused into the metal.
"I made this." Dwalin was still talking though he was now looking at Bilbo. "T'was the first thing I ever completed when I was first learning metalwork. I thought I'd lost it in the mountain."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know. You can have it back of course."
"Have it back?" He said the words as if he couldn't understand them. "It belongs to my husband now as does all that I own. If he wishes to make use of it I have no complaints."
"Husband?" The word tasted like dragon's ash- scorched and bitter- on Bilbo's tongue. "You- you have a husband?"
Dwalin was beginning to look as if Bilbo had gone mad and he wondered how much of his emotions were writ across his face. "Aye, of course I do. We've been wed just over a year now."
"Oh. Th- that's nice." Bilbo said even though he felt it was anything but nice. Then his brain caught up to Dwalin's words. "Just wait a moment! That means you got married on our journey!" Never before had Bilbo felt such betrayal. How could Dwalin have gotten married when he!- when they!- it was unconscionable.
"At Beorn's." Dwalin confirmed, his countenance worried. "Bilbo, don't you remember?"
"I most certainly do not! I'm quite certain I'd remember if you'd gotten married."
"Not me. We got married at Beorn's. You're my husband." He looked quite concerned now. "I'd heard you hit your head on the battlefield but Oin said you were fine."
"What?" Bilbo squeaked. Suddenly Dwalin was right there peering at him intently and hands checking his head as though he might find a wound 10 months after it'd healed. Bilbo batted him away impatiently. "What do you mean married?"
Dwalin sat back though it was obvious he did so reluctantly and he only went as far as the next seat. He looked at Bilbo for a moment as though searching for something before reaching out and lightly tracing his fingers over Bilbo's hand. His touch sent sparks up his arm. Then he reached up and ran his fingers along Bilbo's ear, up and down, creating more sparks and heat. "Bilbo." Dwalin's voice was quiet and hoarse and intimate. "We were married at Beorn's in the traditional way. Are you telling me you didn't know?"
Bilbo could feel himself responding to Dwalin not just physically but emotionally as well. He wanted so bad to give Dwalin the answer he wanted to hear. "I'm sorry." Bilbo whispered. His own voice sounding sad and small. "I don't remember getting married. I wish I did but I don't."
Dwalin frowned for a moment before it was replaced with a smile. It was a wolf of a smile and Bilbo felt a familiar shiver of anticipation race down his spine. "Well then, if you can't remember getting married I'll just have to remind you."
He took Bilbo's hand and pulled him to stand, leading him out into the main hall before pausing. "I don't know which room is yours."
Bilbo laughed even as a blush heated his cheeks. "Come in." He tugged on Dwalin's hand. Once in the room he dropped the hand and fidgeted nervously. How strange that what was once so natural in the wilds and stranger's homes should be so awkward in his familiar Bag End. Dwalin however didn't seem to be suffering such uncertainties. His smirk had not dimmed at all.
"Bilbo." Dwalin reached out and cupped his face. He traced Bilbo's features as though to re-familiarize himself with them. And then they were kissing. There was nothing gentle about that kiss. It was fierce and desperate and Bilbo felt like it would never be enough. He was starving; ravenous as he'd never been before. He wanted more touch, more kisses, more Dwalin. His robe and night clothes were torn from his body even as he scrambled at Dwalin's buckles and ties.
"Why are you wearing so many clothes?" Bilbo growled. "Haven't you learned anything?"
Dwalin just chuckled and tore his tunic and mail over his head in one move. "I've been traveling across Arda up till an hour ago. Would you have me walk the roads bare-arsed?"
Bilbo actually paused and thought about it for a moment. He had seen Dwalin bare against the wilds before; in forest and rivers, against stone and sky. He loved each view dearly but he wasn't sure he wished to share them with the rest of Middle Earth. "Very well." Bilbo conceded. "But in my house no more than two layers ever."
Dwalin's rich guffaws filled the room as he shed the last of his clothing. "As my husband wishes. Now, get on that bed."
The word 'husband' gave Bilbo pause for a moment. It had been a long time since he had given up on the idea of ever being someone's husband. He wasn't sure how he felt about having the title applied to himself. Those thoughts didn't stop him from climbing onto his bed as fast as possible.
+
Making love to Dwalin was both comfortably familiar and excitingly new. The familiar body had new scars and marks to explore. The months apart had lent their actions a new intensity and the emotions behind it all seemed deeper somehow despite Bilbo having known he loved Dwalin from the beginning. Perhaps it was the knowledge that Dwalin love him too even after all that had happened in Erebor both under the mountain and on the battlefield.
Later as they basked in the afterglow Bilbo found himself wondering again about this marriage business. "That was lovely." He started.
"Aye, it was, wasn't it?" Dwalin grinned and reached one large hand down to squeeze Bilbo's buttocks.
Bilbo let out a squeak and slapped Dwalin's chest. "Stop that! What I was going to say was that was lovely but I don't quite understand how it relates to being married."
Dwalin's looked down at Bilbo, his frown back. "Do you remember that first night at Beorn's when I came to you?"
"And tupped me in the loft?"
The dwarf chuckled. "Aye. That I did and so we were married though I'm beginning to suspect it is different with hobbits."
"Wait, what?" Bilbo sat up. "We got married by having sex?"
"At home in the mountain we might have a ceremony but the sex has always been our truest form of marriage."
"But what if you have sex with more than one person?"
"We don't." Dwalin said it so matter-of-factly that Bilbo instinctively believed him even though it sounded preposterous. "Dwarves only love once."
"Oh." Bilbo looked down at his lap. "You- you know I've slept with others before, right? I-it's not like that for hobbits."
"I had begun to suspect that, yes. If you wish, I won't hold you to it." Not waiting for Bilbo to respond, Dwalin began to rise out of bed. "This explains why you left as you did."
"Wait!" Bilbo reached out and latched on to Dwalin before he could leave. "Dwalin, wait. That's- that's not what I meant. You might not be the first I slept with but I am determined to make you my last and that's what really counts isn't it? I had no idea we were married. I can hardly believe it now but if I had known I would have never left, especially the way I did. Dwalin, now that I know, how can you believe I would ever let you go?"
"You left." Dwalin said without looking at him. "Without any word or anything. You just left. I thought you hated me. Took me months to work up my nerve coming here."
"Hate you! Of all the ridiculous notions! I thought you hated me. What with you staying silent after Thorin banished me and then in the aftermath of the battle you never tried to talk to me. No one tried to talk to me."
"I was in a bad place after the battle and not at all fit company for anyone. I did want to go to you though, but I didn't think you'd want to see me. You were my husband and I did not protect you! I didn't stand beside you when you needed me."
"What made you change your mind? About coming out here to me?"
"I'd missed ya, for one." Dwalin answered with a small smile. "But mostly it was the key you left me. They convinced me you wouldn't have left it if you didn't want me to use it."
"They were right." Bilbo matched Dwalin's growing smile with one of his own.
"We alright then? Nothing more we need to hash out?"
Bilbo chuckled. "Oh, I imagine there are quite a few things we still need to discuss but nothing that won't keep until tomorrow I think. For today I'd like to spend it becoming reacquainted with my husband. If you think you can indulge me."
Dwalin's grin turned positively feral. "I do believe I can. Gladly." With that Dwalin pushed Bilbo back down into the bedding.