PROMPT: Thorin and Bofur wake up shivering only to find that Bilbo has spun
himself into a Hobbity cocoon of every single blanket on the bed.
(Prompts for any combination of boffinshield from this otp meme)
There aren’t many nights he wakes up cold anymore. Not since he took up sleeping in the King’s chambers, where there is almost always a roaring fire and more blankets than a single dwarf could know what to do with. Though the blankets aren’t for any single dwarf, more like two dwarves and a hobbit. Who hardly counts as half a dwarf, if that.
Point being, with a royal bed to be rollin about in and two partners to share it with, one being a pint sized furnace on his own, Bofur has no business waking up cold.
Shivering, he raises his head up, first noting the low fire. There’s a few minutes spent squinting at that alone while Bofur’s head finishes waking up along with the rest of him. Next are the blankets. Time to inventory the blankets.
The blankets are gone.
No. Wait. The blankets are….piled in the middle of the bed?
It’s when Thorin groans awake on the other side, also completely bare and shivering, that Bofur realizes the blanket pile is topped off by curly hair.
“Oh burglar is a right title for you it is.” Bofur grumbles, and Thorin lifts his head to glare blearily at the thoroughly cocooned hobbit.
Thorin assesses the situation for a few moments, brows furrowing as he looks at Bilbo before finally saying, “I do not understand how he isn’t cooking himself in there.”
“Well even if he aint cooking himself, he’s freezing the both of us.” Bofur points out, grabbing at one blanket with every intention of yanking it off their thief. The edge tugs down, and Bilbo’s face is revealed. Soft and peaceful, pink tinging his cheeks and lashes fluttering with his dreams, curls of golden hair framing the whole picture better than a painting.
“Oh that is not fair.” Bofur hisses, yanking his hand back. Thorin leans over to see what the fuss is for, then groans again when he gets a look. There’s certainly no way they can wake Bilbo up with him looking like THAT.
“You know,” Bofur starts, as Thorin continues to glare down at the offensively heart warming sight of their adorable, thieving hobbit, “I think it’s a defense mechanism.”
Thorin lifts his head to redirect the frown at Bofur, eyes narrowing in a silent question.
“Well look at him!” Bofur goes on. “The halflings all are living peaceful without a care more than a tomato blight, and I’d wager it’s all because they look like that. Thorin, we got it all wrong with the armor and war nonsense, we just need to get cuter.”
“You’re cute enough as it is.” Thorin shrugs, then realizes what he said as soon as Bofur does and goes still, eyes widening and face turning pink as he stares at Bofur’s growing grin.
“You think I’m cute eh?” Bofur doesn’t think he could grin any wider, not until Thorin finishes turning red.
“Don’t let it get to your head. I’ll get another blanket from the wardrobe.” Thorin says quickly, rolling off the bed.
“Oh I don’t need one now! My heart is warmin me up all over!” Bofur calls.
“Good, more blanket for me.” Thorin calls back.
“Why don’t you call me cute more often? You call Bilbo pretty names all the time! I don’t get pretty names. I want more pretty names.”
“Bilbo doesn’t get obnoxious when I compliment him.”
“I’m not obnoxious! I’m adorable I am! You said it yourself, I’m cute! Lovely as a button! The most-” a blanket hits him full in the face with a flump, and Bofur bursts into laughter.
“Neither of you are cute! Now shut it!” Comes a muffled voice within the blankets, and Bofur only laughs harder.