Note: Christmas present for my boo! Haven't written anything new for the modern au of the Hobbit crew in like a year but this was a lot of fun. Christmas with the horde, lmao. I hope you like bb!

Disclaimer: I haven't really gone over this, so there might be errors? But I don't own Tolkien, as usual, nerds.

Dedication: My boo, of course. Merry (late) Christmas!

"Children," Bilbo shouted, for the fifth time. "Please get down here and greet your uncle!"

Four heads popped up in the basement doorway, two dark, one blonde, and one with bright red hair. "Hello Uncle Dwalin," they chorused, waving, before promptly disappearing back the way they had come, though they left the door open behind them. Dwalin laughed, loud and deep, while Bilbo glowered down the stairs and planted his hands on his hips.

"Don't make me regret buying you that thing," he shouted down into the basement-turned-play room. There was a chorus of giggles that crept up the stairs before the taller, broader, bald man clasped the shorter blonde on the shoulder and steered him back toward the kitchen.

"Don't fuss at them, laddie. You can't buy them so many games and then expect them to hang around the old farts as they putter around with their wine and their salads."

The two carting wine and salad to and from the kitchen paused, Dori looking indignantly pink while Oin squinted as if that would help him understand what Dwalin was saying. Bilbo sighed, letting his husband's cousin steer him through his own home, more than used to being surrounded by the other side of the family in their bustling, gruff way.

"I supposed," he muttered, taking the salad from Oin before he could drop it half unfinished, all of the recently mopped floor. "But still, it is rather rude! I would think at least Kili would be eager to come greet you, considering you've been promising him something spectacular as a gift for a few weeks now."

"Heh," Dwalin laughed, "spectacular, my arse. Already gave the lad a car, what more does he expect from me?"

"A spaceship, no doubt," Thorin said. Bofur's infant was curled in the crook of his arm as he sat at the counter and he looked content, in a hideous sweater Tauriel had given him that morning, his pinned back in loose braids with the flower hairclips Fili had given him as a joke. Dwalin howled at the sight of him, choking out something that might have been you old soft bastard, but Thorin just shrugged, as gently as he could, eyes half lidded with contentment. Bilbo hadn't seen him so relaxed in ages, but surrounded by family he couldn't imagine anywhere his husband would be so content, everyone safe and merry around him.

"Brother," Balin shouted, sticking his head in from the back porch. He, Bofur, Bifur, and Nori were all out there, smoking from their pipes no doubt despite the freezing snow. Dwalin leaned over, slapped his hand on Thorin's shoulder, ignored his disgruntled watch the baby, you oaf as he disappeared in the direction of the porch to join the rest of his family. Bilbo watched him go with a smile, leaning on the edge of the counter near where Thorin was sitting.

"Busy house," Bilbo said, eyes going to the ceiling where the children could be heard shouting and cheering. Perhaps getting them so many video games had been a mistake, but they seemed happy and that's what mattered. He placed the bowl of half-tossed salad on the counter absently, eyes drifting to where Thorin was, finding that his husband was watching him with a level, fond gaze.

"I like the house so busy," Thorin admitted. And Bilbo had to admit, that a full house like theirs was at Christmas was infinitely preferable to the empty corners he had come to know before Thorin, before Kili and Fili, Taruiel, and then Frodo. Thorin could have brought an entire town stampeding through his kitchen, mud on their boots and dirt upon their hands, and he probably would have reveled in the way it made the walls seem warmer and his heart seem fonder.

"Me too," Bilbo said, leaning over to kiss his husband on the cheek. Thorin's reached out with the arm not cradling the infant, curling his hand around the back of Bilbo's head to bring him in for a kiss.

"Oi, you two," someone shouted. "Knock it off already, you're making me sick."

Thorin sighed against Bilbo's lips, pulling back with a sour expression on his lips. Two people rushed by, one short with dark hair and one tall with the fairest head of blonde hair Bilbo had ever seen, and Bilbo watched his husband's face go blank for a second.

"Gloin," Thorin said, instead of a proper greeting to his other, more distant, cousin. "Please tell me that was not who I think it is."

Gloin shrugged as he came into the kitchen, looking sheepish as could be. "Sorry, cousin," he said, tugging at the collar of his own sweater, which was less festive and hideous than Thorin's own. Bilbo suspected his wife had knitted that for him, talented woman that she was. "But Gimli insisted."

"Get out of my house," Thorin said, but the demand lacked heat, because at that moment Bofur's little daughter shifted in his arms, blinking open her eyes and staring up at the big man holding her. Thorin's expression melted instantly as he hunched over to cradle her closer to her chest, and he was so distracted that he did not even react when Thranduil drifted into the kitchen and sat down at the counter beside him.

"Hello," Bilbo said, biting his lip on a grin as Thorin jerked a little in surprise when he realized that there was someone beside him. "Happy Christmas, Thranduil."

"Happy Christmas," Thranduil said. He didn't seem thrilled to be there, but he didn't seem terribly annoyed either. Thorin glanced at him, distrustful and annoyed, as he always was around the other man, so Bilbo leaned over to swat his leg.

"It's Christmas," Bilbo reminded his husband. "Behave."

"Bah," Thorin said. It wasn't a promise to be civil, but Bilbo didn't expect it to be. Thorin and Thranduil's differences went back even further than Bilbo and Thorin's relationship and the little man with the head full of curls had grown used to the way they sniped at each other without any real heat.

"Trust me, there were other places I suggested for the holidays," Thranduil said. "But Legolas, well…"

It didn't need to be said that the strange friendship between Gimili and Legolas had changed quite a lot for the two families. Gloin had complained for weeks upon weeks when the two boys hatred for each other shifted into a friendship that left them inseparable, though his wife had seemed pleased that Gimili had someone to keep him out of trouble. In all honestly Bilbo was pretty sure that Legolas dragged Gimili to even more trouble than he got into himself, but he personally thought it was good for their parents to be forced to remove their heads from their asses.

"You were just saying how you like a full house," Bilbo reminded Thorin with a cheeky smile. Thorin shot him dirty look which softened slightly as the little girl in his arms reaching up with curious fingers to tug on his beard.

"She's beautiful," Thranduil said suddenly. Thorin went to hunch over the little girl more, but Bilbo smacked his leg again, watching with satisfaction as his husband uncurled with a scowl to let the other man see his distant niece.

"She's Bofur's," Thorin said. "Turning one in March."

"Her first Christmas," Thranduil said. He said no more, leaning his elbow on the counter, but his eyes told a different story. Bilbo felt for him, he honestly did, and he was glad the other man and his son had come to join them for Christmas dinner. He couldn't imagine what it would be like, to spend every holiday without Thorin the way Thranduil spent them without his wife. Which reminded him…

"Bard and his brood should be here soon," Bilbo reminded his husband. Thranduil perked up slightly and Bilbo remembered that of their mismatched friends and family Bard was the one Thranduil got along with the best. "And Gandalf should arrive sooner or later."

Both Thorin and Thranduil deflated rather humorously at the remaindered that the old man was coming.

"Invited the whole town, did you," Thranduil asked dryly.

"Unfortunately, it seems so," Thorin answered back. Bilbo probably should have been offended, but it was always amusing to see those two agree.

"You two are a pair of sour lemons," Bilbo told them, grinning. Then he turned, leaving them staring at him indignantly, and went back to putter around the kitchen with Bombur and Ori so that dinner could get finished. When Bard arrived Bilbo went to go let him in, stepping aside so that Tilda could dash past him, a put upon Bain and an amused Sigrid on her heels. Bard himself looked awkward, as he always did when visiting, and with a laugh Bilbo leaned forward to grab his arm and drag him in out of the cold.

"We don't mind, Bard," Bilbo reminded the man. "No matter what face Thorin makes at you, we are more than happy to have you over for dinner."

"If you insist," Bard answered, pulling off his gloves and shoving them into the pocket of his coat. "But I still feel the need to remind you that I am more than capable of bringing a dish to dinner, the same as everyone else."

"Trust me when I say that Bombur had the lot of us covered," Bilbo snorted. "He came with a car full of food that he has been cooking since the moment it was all brought in. I have the feeling I will be banished from my own kitchen soon enough."

Bard removed his coat and carefully put it on a peg, shoulders ducking with a soft laugh. "How many do you have here this Christmas, anyway?"

"Oh dear," Bilbo said. He tried to mentally tally everyone up quickly, nose scrunching up as he did so.

"That many, huh?"

"Let's see, Balin, Dwalin, Bofur, his wife, and his baby girl, Ori, Nori, Dori, Oin, Gloin and his wife, Gimili, Legolas and Thranduil, Bombur, Bifur…" He drifted off, frowning down at his fingers where he had been trying to keep track. "There's Kili, Fili, Tauriel, and Frodo of course… And I believe that's it so far. Gandalf should show eventually, I suppose, when he is good and ready to join us."

Bard laughed, louder this time, and shook his head. "One day we will find friends with names that make sense," he muttered. Bilbo couldn't help but agree, though even after years of marriage he wasn't sure which of Thorin's cousins' names were nicknames and which were their birth names. He led the other man into the kitchen, edging around Bombur and Ori as they worked together on the side dishes, and to the counter where Thorin and Thranduil sat, both glum, arms empty of the baby girl.

"Bella took her daughter back," Thorin said sadly. Thranduil was trying not to look too put out at that as well, though he was failing almost as bad as Thorin. Last Bilbo had been paying attention the two men had been cooing quietly over her, fingers waving in her face for her to hold onto.

Bilbo opened his mouth to tease his husband, but the children in the basement thundered up the stairs, tripping over each other in a race to get to the doorway. Legolas was shouting for his father, Kili and Fili and Frodo were all shouting for Thorin, and Tilda almost too a spill over the threshold in her excitement to shout for Bard. Immediately all three father figures were up and out of their seats, arms outstretched to catch their horde as they rushed forward, words mingling in such a way it was impossible to make sense of anything.

"Alright," Bilbo said, raising his voice over the ramble. "That will be quite enough of that."

The children, thankfully, quieted down. Tilda was hanging off of Bard's arm, Frodo was wrapped around Thorin's middle, and Legolas was one step away from grabbing his father by the shoulders and shaking him.

"Father," Gimili shouted. "Get in here and show these lugs what's for!"

"Excuse me," Bilbo said, as Gloin peeked his head in from the living room, confused but intrigued. "But what is going on?"

Frodo puffed out his cheeks, looking absolutely furious, curls all array. "Tilda," he spat with a vengeance, "said that her father could beat you in a race!"

Bilbo felt the urge to laugh and swallowed it roughly back. He could already see where this was going, but Thorin's quiet, "oh," was enough to set off the children again.

"Could too," Tilda shouted, shaking a bewildered looking Bard by his arm. Frodo whirled around, mouth falling open to shout back, but Bilbo beat the children to it.

"Do not shout in the house," Bilbo said levelly. Everyone glanced at him, a quick little look, and he shrugged back at them. He honestly didn't mind as long as they weren't shouting like barbarians.

"Da, please," Tilda said, peering up at her father. "Come downstairs and show them that you can win!"

Legolas looked to Thranduil, Gimili looked to Gloin, Kili and Fili and Tauriel and Frodo all peered at Thorin while Tilda and Sigrid looked to Bard, Bain in the background embarrassed as could be.

Thorin sighed, cracking first. "Alright, alright," he said, scooping up Frodo, who was already cheering at the top of his lungs. He threw the child over his shoulder like a sack of flour, smirking as he broke into giggles. "I'm game if they're game.

Gloin shouted, completely ignoring Bilbo's glare, a battle cry more suited for three hundred years in the past that the present day in their little dining room. It was with a flurry of movement that everyone moved down into the basement, crammed in like sardines as the four fathers were seated upon the couch and given controllers. Bilbo followed at an easy pace, warmth building in his chest, and Fili drifted over to lean against him, slumping so that he could put his head upon his shoulder.

Bilbo knew that Fili had been homesick since leaving for college a year before and that every opportunity to come home was something he treasured. He was more like his uncle than he liked to admit, enjoying having the house fit to burst with people and echoing with noise from every angle. Bilbo wrapped his arm around his nephew, turning to press a kiss against his temple fondly.

"Happy Christmas, uncle," Fili whispered. Kili started the game with a click of a button on Thorin's controller and the new game of Mario Kart started up. All of the father's looked terrified for a split second before determination settled over their features, intent on winning to prove their children right.

"Happy Christmas, Fili," Bilbo whispered back. Then, lip curling up into a wicked little grin, he started to cheer along with the children, shouting his husband's name as if they were watching some great sport instead.