"I love you."

Hearing those three words made Wrathion's breath stop short in his throat. Seeing the expression on Anduin Wrynn's face when he'd said them made his heart do the same thing.

They'd been, admittedly, doing something rather intimate when he'd made his confession. At least, intimate by Wrathion's scale of judging, and he suspected by Anduin's too - if not that of the general population. During the day, playing their board game was just a method of passing the time; in the evening, however? After everyone had left, and there was nobody to save face against? When either of them could have retreated to their room and be thought none the worse by anybody, nor missed by either of their champion?

The shockingly comfortable silence which had fallen over both men while they concentrated on achieving the same task; and not just /any/ task, but one that required coordination, a desire to work together, an understanding of the other's inner thoughts and ways of processing things... /that/ was intimate.

And they'd done it every night. For three weeks.

So perhaps the surprise that Anduin's confession, made as he was leaving to retire for the night with something somewhere between shame and reluctance on his face, had brought about in Wrathion's mind was... misplaced.

He made some helpless noise, his mouth falling open in confusion. "Uhh..." Oh, Gods. He sounded [silly]. Say something witty. No. Say /something/! Anything at all.

"...whuh?"
Oh. Wonderful. Great. Very eloquent. Good job, Wrathion.

"I- it's- no, never mind." Oh, great. Now he's leaving. Oh no, and he looks so /sad/ too, and-
"W-Wait," Wrathion stumbled out. "Anduin."
Anduin turned, and evidently didn't see in Wrathion's face what Wrathion thought was there, because he frowned. "Don't even think of saying something horrid, Wrathion. I'll leave."
"I- I wasn't-" he realises he sounds indignant, and reigns himself in, pursing his lips and standing up from the table. "Anduin Wrynn..."

Anduin looked afraid, for a moment, and Wrathion hates that. "I... I don't understand," he croaked. "I... I'm a /black dragon/, you've said /many/ a time how /little/ you trust me..."
"I don't understand it either," Anduin blurted. "I... I'm /sorry/, Wrathion," and he looked like he meant it, with tears pricking at his eyes like that, "I didn't mean to get you involved. Forget I said anything."
"No!" Wrathion realised he sounded like a petulant child, rooted to the spot with his hands curled up in to fists. "No, you don't just get to... /take it back/ like that! It's not fair!"
Anduin wrinkled his nose a little, his eyes shining in the faint light from the evening's lanterns. "It's not like you're going to do anything with the information other than lord it over my head, Wrathion."
"That's not- /no/!" He cursed the way he felt his mask slip for half a second until he noted the way his genuine upset made Anduin's expression soften, too. "I- why would I /tease/ you with something that..." well, in for a copper, in for a gold. "...makes me..."

He bit his lip and dropped his eye contact, realising all at once how foolish he sounded. He felt - and looked, probably - like he wanted to cry, and he had no idea /why/. One taloned finger pushed a playing piece idly around the board just for /something/ to do; he looked up when he heard those queer three-tap footsteps again, seeing Anduin approaching him.

There was still a frown on the blond's pale face, but looking again, Wrathion could see it was borne of confusion, not anger. He felt his breath still again when Anduin, hesitant and nervous, leaned into his personal space. He felt like he was going to pass out when the Prince of Stormwind's lips pressed to his cheek.

Flustered and hardly breathing himself, Wrathion noted, Anduin leaned back. "Fine," he said, the very tip of his tongue wetting his lips for a moment. "Maybe I won't take it back."

Wrathion just stared, dumbly, mouth hanging open a little and throat engaging repeatedly to attempt to say something - and finding itself dry and empty of such wit. He should be grinning smugly, he should be making some comment to egg Anduin on into giving him another kiss, or reassuring him that it was appreciated, or /something/ - he should be saying /something/. But instead all that came was a stuttering flat vowel, and Wrathion cringed at his own inelegance.

Once again, he bit his lip and looked down, finding the lack of eye contact to make his words come easier. "Thank you," he mumbled. "I think."

The tension in the room seemed to dissipate at this admission of gratefulness. Anduin fidgetted with his cane. "Same time tomorrow?" he offered. "Ah - the," he gestured limply to the table, "board game, that is. Unless..."
"Both," Wrathion blurted. "Both. Yes. Same time tomorrow."
Anduin gave a small smile that belied the relief Wrathion could see in the rest of his posture. "Both. Alright. Goodnight, Wrathion."
"Goodnight, Prince Wrynn."

He was surprised - and then again, not surprised at all - at the softness in his own tone.