It had come out so quick – synapses firing off single 20 gauge shotgun blast before he'd even had time to properly filter and rework a more appropriate reply – Robb barely hid the jolt of surprise that rippled through him like a stone skittering across a tranquil pond.
Now where the fuck did that come from?
Somehow he managed to recover quick enough, thank Christ, various factions inside his head battling out a civil war reawakened each and every time Jon prompted, poked, prodded him to say those three simple but ultimately difficult words bookended, without fail, by an all-too-familiar look of distress. Quintessential kicked puppy dog eyes and lower lip sucked in so far Jon threatened to eat his own face if he wasn't careful. Usually Robb was immune to his boyfriend's power, miserly rationing out declarations of everlasting love and devotion because he knew, deep down that if he said it one too many times he'd break the spell.
Then Jon will leave us again; never to return.
Visions of bleak, bone-chilling cold followed quick as you can on the heels of these reminders. Whispers echoing down the line intoned with a young man's vocal clarity heavy with sorrow. He didn't know the where or the why but sometimes he wished like hell it would just bugger off and leave them in peace.
He had a sneaking suspicion that wasn't going to happen anytime soon, though.
So Robb worked around the problem; same as he always did; same as he would tonight. Carefully displaying the bulk of verbal affections when Jon wasn't necessarily looking or paying attention. Technical loopholes within loopholes that wouldn't upset tender balances nor use up the very limited supply of precious “I love you's.”
“No,” he repeated, freeing an arm so he might tenderly stroke lover's cheek. “Because first I'm going to tell you all the reasons why I do.”
Be wary of your words, Stark. The gods are listening.
“I love your smile and when you're smiling, just for me,” Robb began, picking the most obvious place to start, his fingertip carefully tracing blushed contours. “I love your mouth; how full the lower part is, and that thing you do when you're concentrating. It makes me want to shag you rotten.”
“Love your tongue, too, especially when it's wrapped round my cock.” Exhaling a quiet laugh when Jon poked his tongue out, he couldn't help but elaborate. “It's like velvet and silk at the same time. Warm and welcoming and just right.”
“I love the funny peak in your hairline and your snubby nose. The way your hair looks completely mad all the time - especially after I've shagged you rotten. Your wee ears so neat and close to your head; always listening, you are. Always attuned to every sound, never missing a thing. I really love that about you.”
“I love your scars – even the ones you hide from everybody.” Grinning at his own cleverness now, Robb cared not a whit at that particular moment about silly old gods and their rules. He was winning!
“Your strength turns me on; and those broad shoulders I want to climb like Mount Kilimanjaro. Your hands are clunky and brilliant and so very skilled when you play guitar. Your arse is beyond all comprehension - and that cock! Jesus wept when you were made, Jon, I swear it.”
He fell silent after that, giving adequate time for slowpoke lover to catch up and perhaps even appreciate the elaborate game of landmine Twister he'd just executed – pretty fucking flawlessly to boot! And If Jon didn't like the way he'd approached the subject, well, there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it, could he?
Full marks for effort, at least, Robb decided, ready (at last!) to roll out the grand finale.
“And that's why I love you, Jon Snow, with every fiber of my being.”
Did it in one, fuckers! So kiss my ruddy pale arse!