Work Text:
“I love you, non-romantically,” Crow announced from where he sat on the floor, surrounded by a pile of newspapers.
“And I you,” Doyle blinked. “But what has brought this on, old friend?”
Crow blinked. “I lived with people who expected me to love them before-”
He broke off before trying again. “I do not love anyone romantically, Doyle. But you still accept me and love me, and you do not want me to be a wife. And you are my friend, and I love you.”
Doyle smiled at him. “Of course I am your friend, and I do not want you to be a wife. Nor do I want to be a wife. I am happy as we are. I suppose we are more or less husbands according to the registration paperwork, but above all, you are my friend.”
“I feel the same, my dear.” Crow toppled over a precarious stack of newspapers. “Oh dear.”