Word Count: 377
Summary: Arthur's tells him when no ones there to listen.
Prompt: Whispers in the night.
A/N: So this was literally written in 5minutes, I completely forgot I signed up what with having no internet for the last week so it was panic stations when I remembered and whipped this together - I warn you, read at your own peril!!! It was written quickly, no doubt full of mistakes and probably in all honestly doesn't make a whole heap of sense! But I did it!!! That's the main thing, I did submit something, even though it's crap :p
Eh... Yeah! Enjoy!!!
Arthur was never good with words.
Leon said it was because he was brought up with Uther, but then Gwaine would add that so was Morgana and she never had any bother laying her feelings down for all to know. When that woman was pissed, everyone knew – even the monks in seclusion in Tibet knew! So Leon was outvoted on his theory.
Then Merlin came along, bubbling, happy, carefree and clumsy (his phone went down the toilet more than once) – he wore his heart on his sleeve and everyone loved him for it. It made Arthur uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable.
But low and behold, they fell in love, or well – they fell into bed.
There were lots of goldfish impressions going on the night everyone else found out.
How could Arthur (emotionally stunted fuckwit) and Merlin (heart full of love and candyfloss) be together? How did Merlin cope? How had Arthur not had a breakdown?
Merlin tossed his feeling about like confetti at a wedding, and Arthur... Didn’t. He didn’t have feelings, or he did but he couldn’t put them into words and Merlin did love words.
Everyone thought it was a suicidal rollercoaster waiting to happen.
But... Strangely it did work.
Merlin didn’t need Arthur to open up, to talk, to express his love yada yada yada. Because he knew, he knew without words that Arthur loved him. It was look while they were cleaning up after dinner, it was the light touch on his arm as the passed in the hall, it was the reassuring hand squeeze when Merlin needed it most.
But mostly, it was at night. It was kisses Arthur pressed into Merlin’s heated skin, it was the way he would push Merlin’s hair out his eyes, it was the way he would hold him and stroke his back. And it was the whispers.
The whispered vows Arthur would spill when he thought Merlin had fallen asleep.
He’d say it when he thought no one could hear, he’d whisper it in the darkness of night.
But Merlin could hear, Merlin knew.
And Merlin loved his constipated, emotionally stunted, repressed workaholic clotpole, with a feeling phobia as much as he loved his mobile (Bip) who smelled like Harpic.
They had their whispers in the night.