Summary:
Based on anonymoussong's ideas for the ways Thorin and Bilbo sleep when together.
Chapter Text
They have a sleeping position for almost every day of the week.
This fact had amused Bilbo no end when he had first realised it, an unconscious tallying of how they sleep had begun to formulate within his mind one morning upon waking and left him smiling throughout breakfast.
Last night for instance, Bilbo had curled himself almost cat-like upon Thorin's chest. Indeed, Thorin had teased him that his quiet snores sounded uncannily like the purr of a cat and Bilbo had tickled his sides relentlessly in revenge.
"I have already been likened to a rabbit on more than one occasion, you great oaf! I'll not be adding anymore animals to that list, please and thank you!"
Thorin's rumbling laughter had been as rolling and comforting as far off thunder; as pacifying as the warmth of a blanket, and as endlessly beautiful and captivating as languid kisses under the cover of a starlit night.
Bilbo maintains this way of sleeping is his way of asserting dominance. "Someone has to keep you in line, dearest. Elsewise there's no telling how arrogant you might become."
Teasing lies of course; Thorin, for all he was King Under the Mountain, did not seem to posses an arrogant bone in his body, and well did he and Bilbo both know it.
Still, Thorin always seems to enjoy this sleeping position well enough, it allows him to hold Bilbo properly and to run gentle fingers up and down the hobbit's back. Bilbo is always dangerously close to purring for real then.
Some nights find Bilbo curled into Thorin's side, seeking the warmth and comfort such a position offers. Strong arms will wrap around his back, and there will be the undeniable sensation of a nose buried in his curls.
Bilbo has never quite understood the fascination Thorin has with his hair. Surely, the dwarf's own locks are far more attractive. Long and thick and shot through with silver; whether neatly brushed and braided, or else pulled into a messy horsetail with long strands escaping their bonds, Thorin's hair is the loveliest Bilbo has ever seen.
Curiously enough, the dwarf has the same opinion of his hair. The curls may be a great deal shorter than most dwarves are accustomed to, but in that, there is a charm of its own. Bilbo does not conform to conventions of standards the dwarves hold; he is wilful and free of their opinions, not caring one whit if traditionalists mutter how he should at least try to fit in.
Thorin likens his hair to honey; in hue, it is a close match. Rich and deep with shades of gold, but Bilbo is far more precious to him than any mere coin or bauble.
It is a secret known only to the dwarf king as to why he enjoys nuzzling Bilbo's hair so, but the truth of the matter is that the softness of the locks against his skin, and the warm, clove and spice smell of Bilbo's soap mingles wonderfully with every idea Thorin has ever attributed to 'home'. Bilbo is home to him, and so long as he can hold him close, his dreams will be sweet.
Other nights, Bilbo will tug at the dwarf, grumbling beneath his breath until Thorin lays sprawled across him like a blanket.
In summer, such a position can be far too stifling for the hobbit to bear, but in the dead of winter, this is perhaps his favourite way to sleep. There is something so incredibly comforting about being pressed into the mattress like this. He feels safe and secure, protected and much loved.
Especially when Thorin starts to lavish attention on his face, neck, chest, anywhere the dwarf's lips can easily reach...
Bilbo will wake to the heady, heavy feeling of warmth surrounding him, a lullaby in its own right to send him back to sleep; only to find tickling, whiskery kisses being pressed to the skin of his throat or his cheek, sometimes it is his forehead or eyelids, the tip of his nose, his lips, or his collarbone. Bilbo will complain muzzily about neither of them getting enough sleep; but then the gentle brush of Thorin's lips and beard will melt his complaints away like frost under morning sun and Bilbo will surrender to the bubbling giggles rising within him, Thorin joining him in laughter.
Nights like these it is not unusual for Thorin to slip a little lower, his head finding rest on Bilbo's chest; pillowed there and entirely too comfortable.
This is often Thorin's favourite arrangement. He is a dwarf who has known hardship and heartache; in the past, he has not been allowed to hold onto those that he loves. Now it is different, but he still takes solace in reassurance.
Reassurance comes in the steady rhythm, the dancing beat of a drum in Bilbo's chest. His heartbeat is the finest music Thorin has ever heard, and much like the scent of his hair, it encapsulates everything Bilbo is; his warmth his strength, his steadfast loyalty and persistent faithfulness of 'I will stay, I will stay, I will stay'.
Bilbo's fingers threading through his hair in gentle strokes are an added assurance, a tether between them that fills Thorin with joy and keeps him anchored all at once.
Bilbo enjoys combing through his hair, he has confessed as much before. His beloved will often fall into a charming habit of humming tunes from the Shire whilst he cards fingers through Thorin's unruly mane and will murmur quiet admonishments if Thorin moves around too much. It is Thorin's favourite way to fall asleep, listening to a harmonising of Bilbo's voice and Bilbo's heartbeat.
There is one more way to sleep that occasionally leads to good-natured arguments.
On certain nights, Thorin will pull Bilbo into a loving embrace; the hobbit's back nestled warmly against Thorin's chest.
Much like having Thorin sprawled atop him, this position does make Bilbo feel unaccountably safe and cared for. However, there is the slight problem of Thorin being dreadfully silly in his heart of hearts and his daft husband enjoys nothing more than nosing at Bilbo's ear when they sleep like this.
He knows it tickles. Bilbo has told him so before! Yet still, his husband persists, until sometimes the hobbit will lightly drive his elbow back (a warning) and a breathy 'oomph' and endearingly wounded sounding voice will reproach him thus.
"I didn't do that on purpose, amrâlimê, yet you would attack me?"
"What nonsense, you know very well what you're doing, Thorin... and I'd hardly call that an attack."
The bickering will flow back and forth, silly and light-hearted as they try to prevent the encroaching lull of sleep. Until Bilbo will fuss and shoo and make Thorin roll over so that Bilbo can take his place at the dwarf's back instead; arms barely long enough to wrap fully around his torso.
Clever, tickling fingers to waist and hips always spell revenge.
Yes, there are many different ways the two of them sleep, Bilbo muses as he snuggles himself into the curve of Thorin's arm, smiling, but so long as they are together then any of these positions will be just fine.
