Look
into my eyes
Author: wanderingsmith
jun 2014
Summary: slightly OOC cracky. The love at first sight trope. Minus
godly intervention and cracky dwarven customs.
You turn from the ever-so-commonplace pleasure
of greeting friends and family,
Ready to be disappointed, ready to dismiss.
You hear his voice and feel an odd shiver,
You look up and see him standing with his side
to you, and your eyes are drawn,
The shape of the body, the way he moves, the
colours,
Eyes pulled as though magicked,
Every other sound and sight forgotten, blanked
out,
He turns to you and his voice sounds stronger,
his eyes and expression adding volume to it,
And together those three are heralds of his
soul,
And you cannot help but stare, wishing to know
everything of him,
A hunger that thinks he can fill every rift
life has left in your heart and soul,
That he can double joy and halve sorrow.
And you want to know.
You want to know.
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to
pay me for this. As it is thought, so let it be said; you make the
toys, I play with 'em.
AN: With hugs and thanks to my two lovely listeners of whine,
and offerers of thought-inducing thoughts, and.. a couple lines
in this I *know* came from them so.. many many thanks to
overtherisingstar and Bofursunboundbraids
He knew he had taken all the time gazing silently that he could.
Gandalf had finished his introduction too long ago, and the hobbit,
still frowning with no doubt more unspoken grumbles at the damage to
his door, was looking in his direction distractedly. However much he
would have preferred to stand staring for a lifetime, or at least an
evening, Thorin instead dropped to one knee, a bow feeling entirely
insufficient to express the nigh overwhelming feeling coursing
through him. Aware but utterly uncaring of his company behind him
making sounds of shock and confusion.
"Thorin? Thorin, are you well?"
"I think we broke him."
"I think the burglar broke him..."
Ignoring the mutters of his adviser and nephews, Thorin sought
refuge in ritual to find words, "I would... I would offer you .. my
most.. personal service. But I cannot..." he shook his head, mind
too taken with continuing to stare hungrily at every inch of the
lovely, soft, lively creature now staring back at him with wide,
surprised, curious eyes to bother with keeping his own features
clear of what he felt. He no doubt showed clearly the conflict
raging in his heart, "I must help my people; I cannot forgo this
quest. Not.. not even for-" he had to take a deep breath before the
words he had long given up speaking would come, "For love." Love!
Mahal! He had not understood just how stunning that small word's
power was. Had never thought the shape of another being could become
his soul.
"For- ..what?" Bilbo's eyes widened even more and he could feel his
mouth hanging no doubt unattractively open, but.. but.. *Love*???
What... He stared at the newest stranger in his house, the most
beautiful blue gaze he'd ever encountered shining back at him,
slightly below his level now that the tall dwarf had .. had.. *gone
to one knee*!! Love?? But they'd only just laid eyes on each other!
How could he *possibly*...
Huffing a single laugh, Thorin's lips twisted in wry gratitude for
the hobbit's polite shock. He could just imagine how *he* would have
reacted to such a claim, and it was not nearly so charitable.
Nonetheless, speaking from his heart was an effort, a language he
had not learned, let along practised. "For love."
Through the hobbit's shock, he could see kindness in those serious
brown eyes; no distrust, fear or disgust, even with Thorin's no
doubt mad-seeming statement. Only calm strength, that *called* to
Thorin.. oh it truly did. "I have..." such peace in his features;
hairless, smooth skin, but with so much more character and life than
cold elves could ever hope for, "I have.. fallen. In love with you.
Master Baggins." he had to look away, the well-maintained floor
offering a safe haven from the shame, "I wish I could offer to court
as you deserve, as I .. wish. But I. Cannot. I *must*-" and if he
died? He would never know.. His eyes closed, head bowing in silent
grief.
Well now, a *Durin* of all dwarrows. *Falling* with such drama. Dori
tightened his lips to keep from smiling too obviously. At least the
king had good taste: the little hobbit was a proper gentle-body. If
the creature agreed to follow its surprise-suitor, the quest
suddenly promised to offer far more lively entertainment than they'd
had a right to expect. Watching a king, and a *Durin*, courting from
the Wild.. My my indeed! And a fellow tea-lover among his uncouth
companions! How perfectly delightful.
Thorin opened his eyes when he felt movement near. Seeing first a
pair of bare feet, long and thick, tough and their tops as hairy as
that of Thorin's hands. Resisting the longing that pulled at his arm
to reach out and touch, to see their skin next to each other, he
instead trailed his eyes up equally-unclothed calves, with the
strong muscles of one who depended on his own legs to travel; and
only a light dusting of the palest hair, compared to his own
hair-covered limbs. Up over those strange short and loose trousers,
forcing himself not to let the fire he felt light his eyes pause
over the material at his groin. The shirt looked so very soft and
airy his fingers itched to stroke it, to see how his love's skin
would feel through it. Would the heat burn him? Would touching the
soft flesh from his love's peaceful life be as soothing as he
imagined?
Up the temptingly vulnerable throat, and Thorin could no longer
avoid meeting the hobbit's gaze, expecting pity or annoyance.
Instead, there was only a wondering warmth.
When he'd originally stepped closer to the dwarf, Bilbo had simply
wished to offer the forgiveness that seemed appropriate to his
strange, guilty words. But watching the slow crawl of those eyes
along his body was an awakening. The tingle and burn of every inch
of his flesh, caused by nothing but a *look*, for the love of all
that is green in Arda, was something he had never felt. Meeting the
flames in wide, darkened eyes and the tightened skin over the
dwarf's cheekbones, Bilbo began to suspect that whatever madness had
taken this 'Thorin', he was perhaps not immune.
But not even the slow burn of shocking lust would make him forget
his manners; he was a Baggins of Bag End, by the Valar! He cleared
his throat, offering a hand for the sentiment rather than any help
that his short stature could offer the obviously powerful figure to
rise, "I think-" he had to clear his throat again when he heard the
shocking husky sound of his voice; nothing compared to the deep
gravel of his strange suitor, but nothing like his own voice either,
"I think you should let me serve you something to fill your belly.
And then perhaps you could explain wh-" his breath caught at the
grip of thick, callused fingers around his smaller hand, even with
the stiff material of the dwarf's bracer between the two of them,
"Why you are all her-" Oh. Oh dear. Dry, chapped lips warm on the
back of his hand, oh that was-! He meant to jerk his hand back, he
did. If he didn't, he would be assaulting the dwarf.. in front of
those *other* dwarves! *And* a wizard. Which would be entirely rude
behaviour to even uninvited guests.
Thorin had all but convinced himself he would have to leave his
newfound love behind, and likely die never having even tried to win
him. Seeing undisguised hunger flash in his hobbit's expression was
so far beyond his expectations that he hardly felt the shove Kíli
gave him when he stood too long with his lips on oh so soft, pale
skin.
He allowed Gandalf to usher him and the hobbit to the dining table
with an amused look that should have made the king furious, but that
he could not find a reason to object to. He knew his company
gathered around, but was hardly aware of them. With his attention so
taken, he willingly let Gandalf tell the story of his home, instead
unable to help relishing the tension in his core at the presence so
near behind him. He had never felt so alive outside the battlefield,
never desired for all Arda to stop and leave him to enjoy the
moment, though he would be pleased if his love joined him in his
moment..
When the hobbit started asking questions, however, he was pulled out
of his preoccupation with his own body and mind, and back to the
people surrounding him. Could Bilbo truly be considering joining
them?? ...He would have the chance to press his suit!
But for the hobbit to risk death at his side. That... That did *not*
sit well with Thorin. And yet. When he met those eyes coming up from
the map, shining with some curiosity, some longing... Could he deny
the creature? He had offered his service, twice; he could not take
that back by denying his love.
In the end, it was Bilbo that dragged *him* to the hobbit's own bed
that night, saying it would sleep a vague 'elsewhere'. Showing his
teeth, Thorin insisted they could share. He was not a child or a
brute who could not control himself.
And the two of them, in Bilbo's cozy room, the fire burning low,
spoke in hushed tones late into the night, of Erebor, the Shire,
working the forge and baking. No mention of love: lying on a bed as
they were. Nor even something as close as families. No mention of
the Quest. Instead, they compared books and songs, traditions and
foolish customs. Neither quite ready to end the strange evening, but
neither quite willing to bring up the future.
Until Thorin noticed the hobbit's lashes fluttering, fighting off
sleep, and he pulled the weary body against his side and sang him to
sleep, a strange calm coming over him to sing of his hopefully
soon-to-be-reclaimed home... while holding one he wished even more
strongly to claim. He whispered, needing it said but unwilling to
disturb the warm weight in his arms with such gloom, "If there is
any way that I can survive this, I swear I will return to you." Then
he finally allowed himself to rest, the scent of the sweetest life
he had ever known filling him.
------------------------------
"You are NOT!" Thorin was faintly aware that he was almost using the
tone he had practised for groups of recalcitrant dwarrows, but he
could not help it with the way his pulse was pounding in sudden
fear.
"Thorin, stop interfering, I need to find a clean handkerchief and
you said you wanted to leave by first light."
"You are NOT coming! I WILL not have you in danger!"
Bilbo turned with his hands on his hips to stare at his suitor
firmly, "Very used to getting your way, aren't you? You'd better get
over that, and quick. If it's so dangerous, that's all the more I
don't let you go alone. No proper hobbit would allow a loved one
into danger without them."
It took Bilbo bouncing off the unmoving dwarf as he turned from his
dresser to realize that he'd suddenly gone silent and look up to see
a terribly vulnerable look on the previously glowering features.
"Loved One?"
Bilbo softened at the choked husk, reaching up to slide his fingers
through the short beard and giving his dwarf a gentle smile, "Aye.
If I hadn't been so preoccupied by the shock of your company's
invasion of my home, I suspect I would have been just as..." His
hand made its way to the nape of Thorin's neck and he pressed,
tilting his head up in invitation of a kiss, soft and tentative on
both their parts. He let the dwarf pull back only enough to speak
clearly, "Just as bowled-over as you were."
Rather than let Thorin find the words to get as huffy as his
suddenly regal expression promised, Bilbo covered the tiny distance
between them and sealed his lips with another kiss. This one much
longer, and full of definite promises.
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