(Angst because I enjoy destroying emotions at 10 P.M.)
(Oh yee, Victorian AU bc fück it-)
"When have I ever 'used you', Moran?" Moriarty demanded, almost in a growl. Moran crossed his arms.
"It feels like everyday, sir." He spat out the final word.
"Sebastian," Moriarty's voice sounded soft, almost hurt, "I'd never use you."
Moran shook his head, "prove it then."
"How the hell do I prove something like that?" Moriarty scowled.
"Convince me with your words, professor." Moran uncrossed his arms and waited.
Moriarty opened and closed his mouth. Words lined up perfectly in his mind but came out as stammers from his mouth.
Moran sighed a little, smiling bittersweetly. "Don't...don't bother. I won't question about this again, sir. Sorry to-"
"I love you."
The only words that came out clearly from Moriarty's mouth.
Moran froze in place, his brows furrowing as he stared at his employeer.
"Sir?"
"I said I love you, Moran. Do with that whatever you wish," Moriarty sighed, sinking into his chair. He looked defeated.
That look scared the hell out of Moran, and he hesitantly approached the other, crouching next to his chair.
"Prof," he murmured quietly, "did you truly mean-"
"Yes. I'm not taking back I said." Moriarty replied in a cold tone.
Moran lightly took his employeer's hand, brushing a kiss against the gloved hand, then frowning slightly when his lips met glove instead of skin.
"Basher?" Moriarty quietly said, already knowing that the feelings were matched.
Moran looked up at him, smiling gently. "I'm sorry I thought you were using me, sir."
Moriarty smiled as well-a rare, gentle one. "It's fine, darling. And you can drop the 'sirs' when we're alone."