Chapter Text
“I am not a brat.”
Sansa huffs annoyed. Although she has been called a brat all her life, by her siblings, her friends and even her parents on an odd occasion. She hates it. She hates even more that it is Jon saying it all smugly, across the table from her.
“You so are. Always has been. I remember you yelling at Robb “Take me to the mall!”, “Take me to the diner” and so on. Your poor brother.” He replies mockingly.
“Shut up, Jon. It was not like that! Plus, I always asked nicely.”
He takes a sip of his beer, his left eyebrow raised as if to challenge her.
“Of course you did, like a lady.”
More mockery. Lady was her nickname in high school due to her outstanding manners and all around “snobbery” as Arya would’ve so rudely put it.
“I did not come here to be insulted.” She retorts, only half pretending to be offended. In reality, it felt good to be here, laughing with Jon after so long.
This was the first time they properly hung out in three years. After her sudden move to Hardhome to finish her Poli-Sci degree at Freefolk University, Sansa had known virtually nobody there, but Jon. And even then, he was never truly her friend. He was Robb’s much older friend. At least older than her. Her memories of him go back to when he was a sullen 14-year-old that hung around Robb all the time, stealing her older brother’s time away from her. Sansa was 6 then. She is 22 now.
“I’m sorry, kid. I’ll play nice.” He concedes, getting up from the table to grab them more beers.
They were in his apartment that coincidently was above Sansa’s. When she decided to move to Hardhome just a while ago, everything was arranged in a rush. She chose this building because it was close to school, in a relatively nice neighborhood – filled with Delis, hipster coffee shops and little restaurants – and it had a quaint one-bedroom apartment that checked most of her requirements.
Having Jon as a neighbor was just a lovely, unexpected bonus. A bonus that she wasn’t even looking to take advantage until they randomly met on the elevator one morning. She knew he lived there, Robb had mentioned it off hand, but it still caught her off guard. He looked so different; his longer hair now cut in a stylish trimmed fashion. She had to blink a few times to finally recognize him. Jon seemed to know who she was right away though. Invited her for a coffee at his place sometime and if Sansa wasn’t so goddamn lonely, she would’ve decline what was probably just politeness on his behalf.
But here she is, as coffee has turned into beers while she sits inside his impressively decorated home. At least impressively enough for a guy Sansa remembered being very spartan in his taste, never paying mind to nice things like she favored.
“You know, from the way you treating me, I deserve like two more beers.” She counters, as he scouts his fridge.
“Sansa, I didn’t invite you here so you could drink all my beers. Also, aren’t you too young to be drinking like this?” He jokes, picking up the bottles and placing them on the tabletop.
Even though they haven’t spent much time together, Sansa has already noticed that Jon likes to pester her for her age, as if they were worlds away. She’s 22, a legal adult and yet he likes to call her “kid” and annoy her endlessly about it. That she really, truly hates.
“Fuck off, Jon.” She rolls her eyes before aptly opening another bottle.
“Oh, the lady curses.” His hands placed on his chest in pretend indignation.
“What if instead of teasing me all the time, you tell me about your day? Your life?” She challenges, before taking another sip of her beer.
Jon smiles bemused. In the summer light of the late afternoon, his face looks soft and alluring. He always had that classic beauty, dark and handsome like in the songs Sansa used to listen back in high school. But now that he’s older and his looks have matured – the angles all sharper now –, he resembles what she imagined would be the perfect real-life version of Mr. Knightley.
“Ok, Stark. I had a good day. Managing The Wall isn’t easy and I never imagined running my own thing would be like this, there are always a hundred different problems to deal with at any given time of the day but I’m happy, you know? I’m working towards what I always wanted…” He shrugs then. “It feels good.”
Sansa opens a smile, feeling somewhat proud of him. It’s weird to see how different his life is. Different from hers, from what she imagined he would be doing someday. But it makes perfect sense. Jon always worked odd security jobs back when they were younger, at his university days with Robb. His mind was quietly observing his surroundings at all times and out of all of them – her siblings, their friends –, he would be the one to strategize his plans most carefully, even his dumb pranks with Robb. He was as much of a planner as she was and to Sansa that meant a lot. She has always been the most controlling, all composed and cunning of her siblings. If she was being honest, of most people she knew too.
“I’m happy for you.” She nods, looking around.
He made a good life for himself. A life better than some expected him to have, all the small-minded people of their hometown that always judged Jon for being an orphan, a “bad boy”, living with his foster dad for most of his life. Even her mom did, she would complain to Robb “that this kid” was a bad influence, a drag to his development.
Well, Robb turned out just fine as prosecutor in White Harbor, engaged to Sansa’s oldest friend and Westeros’ favorite socialite/influencer, Margaery Tyrell. All the while, he never left Jon behind. They were best of friends ‘til this day, even while living cities apart and leading completely distinct lives. Sansa admired them, even envied them a little bit for it too. They held onto each other fiercely, through the challenges of adolescence and adulthood. Robb and Jon truly were brothers in every other sense of the world.
“Thanks, kid. What about you? Full ride at FFU, on track to graduate with honors. Robb told me all about it. You’re doing great too.”
She is now. But it has been a long road to get her here and it hasn’t all been that pretty. Sansa is thrilled to have won her scholarship, to have worked on a flawless academic record despite her constant moving around – from KL, to the Vale and now to Hardhome – but it took a lot from her. She is humbled by her experience, most of the vanity and vapid ambitions from back in day now lost to her tumultuous past. She prefers it that way. It has allowed her to appreciate things more for what they are – such as this lovely afternoon, feeling the warm breeze flowing from the wide kitchen windows as Jon stares at her intently with a shy smile.
His eyes drive her a little nervous, she decides. Something about them, how the charcoal seems to be endless, dragging her in even as they discuss amenities. As if he’s trapping her. It’s weird, Sansa thinks.
“I’m doing alright. We both are. Cheers to that!” She moves her bottle in his direction, making them click with little sound.
“So what do you guys do for fun around here?”
She doesn’t mean it to come out as snob, because her curiosity is genuine. Hardhome is a small town, surrounded by a deep wilderness and sheltered by a bay along the Shivering Sea. While it was summer, the climate was somewhat agreeable (even though the nights tended to be freezing with unforgivable winds) and people were always outside. She had a feeling that winter would be startlingly different.
“We drink the best whiskey made in all of Westeros, we do hikes, we climb, we fish, we sail. You know, real people just like you getting on with their day!” He replies with a forced northern brogue that makes her laugh.
“You’re dumb. I mean, what do you like to do? It’s summer and I haven’t seen much. I need you to educate me.” Sansa relies on her politeness and talent to suck up, just to mess with his ego.
Jon rolls his eyes.
“I don’t know, Sansa. Everything really. I can take you to some places, if you’d like. We can do a trail on the ancient caves, it’s pretty cool. I’m not sure if it would be your thing, though.”
“You’d be surprised. I’d love that, really. I’ll let you be my guide.” She replies with a flirty wink, dragging the last word with a breathy tone – the one she uses just for boys; and for a second, just a second really, Sansa is not even sure if it’s her imagination or reality, but Jon seems to blush at her words. It’s sort of adorable.
She decides she’d like to see more of it. Jon takes a final gulp of his beer and replies at last:
“Alright, we can do that. It’ll be fun.”
Yes, it will. Sansa thinks to herself, giving him a sly, contented smile.