Chapter Text
“Arya, stop it!” Jon groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t care how much you beg. We’re not taking you.”
Huffing, the silver-haired sister of his crossed her arms. “Why? Afraid I’ll out-party you?” Star gymnast, Arya Targaryen was slim but all muscle, eager to fight if need be. Such wasn’t usually directed at Jon, for she adored her older brother, but now…
Jaehaerys ‘Jon’ Targaryen was equally stubborn. Both got it from their muna - their kepa was more easygoing. “My little sister going to a rowdy bachelor party? No freaking way.”
“I’m not a baby, you can say ‘fuck!’” she shouted back. “And I’m eighteen!”
A chortle, this one from a figure on the couch. “Really, Arry?” Said their cousin Robb facetiously. “Are you really Eighteen?”
Another glower from Arya, but she shifted her feet. “Going on eighteen… in a few months…”
Robb laughed. “The kinds of stuff Jaehaerys’ planning, we’ll get kicked out for sure if we bring an underaged girl there.” Grinning that megawatt smile that snared many a lady in his bachelor days, Jon could only give a sheepish shrug in return. “Remember, he’s got his army days to fall back on.”
“Robb… I’ve told you this before, joining the army isn’t all going to exotic locales and…” he blushed. “Sampling the local flavor.”
“Gross,” Arya blanched.
“But you did, didn’t you? Ah, to be young and single again.”
“Oh please. You get mooney eyes everytime you see Marg, it’s sickening.” Arya wasn’t telling a lie there. Jon had gone on double dates with Robb and Marg before - the two of them… put all other couples to shame with how close they were. He wasn’t surprised they were getting married after only knowing each other for a year and a half. Jon was just surprised they weren’t getting married sooner. “Brother, I love you, but thank the gods that it’s Robb marrying his sweetheart and not you. Yigritte, ughh.”
“Hey…”
At that moment the click of pumps on the floor brought attention to the staircase. “Are you talking about Ygritte again?” Lyanna Targaryen - Jon and Arya’s mother - wore a magnificent sundress that showed off her still gorgeous figure while also remaining tasteful. Red and black, the colors of the ancient, august Targaryen family. A Stark by birth, she nevertheless adapted. “If you think about going back to that hussy…”
Holding up his hands, Jon unilaterally disarmed himself. Even holding his baby brother Aemon, Lyanna could whoop him upside the head. “No one’s suggesting that, muna. I haven’t talked to her in two moons.”
“I heard a rumor that she’s into girls now.” Arya giggled at that.
The grin only grew on Robb’s face. “Left Baron Brooder for some chick… that’s classic.” He ignored Jon’s glare. “You know what would be perfect? If she was Rhaenys’ date to the wedding. I’d pay to see Jon’s face.”
“I swear to all seven hells I will kick you in the balls.”
“Jaehaerys Targaryen, language,” Lyanna chided. “Regardless of whom Ms. Ygritte is dating now, she can have at it as long as he or she isn’t my son.” She looked relieved. Apparently no one liked her and knowing what he did now Jon didn’t blame them. “Couldn’t have had that ruining your kepa and I’s luncheon… or is it better to say it’s your wife’s luncheon, Robb?”
“I know, Aunt Lya, I know. Thank you for you and uncle Rhaegar’s support in taking the heat off of me.” While Westeros had once been a monarchy, a particularly bad King had resulted in one Aenar Targaryen overthrowing him and instituting a republic, naturally heralding most of its magistrates from one of the many famous families that were once the nobles of the King’s court. House Targaryen was one, as were Houses Stark, Lannister, Hightower, and Tyrell… all of whom were joining together with the wedding of Robb and Margaery.
Naturally proud grandparents Olenna Tyrell and Tywin Lannister were taking it a bit overboard. At least Mace Tyrell and Cersei Stark were in it for their children’s happiness… mostly.
Very recently born - as Lyanna had no qualms about informing anyone that asked in case they doubted her youth and virility - Aemon squirmed in his muna’s grasp. “Settle down, little one,” she cooed. “Your big sister is gonna take care of you all day.” Lifting him up and blowing a raspberry on his belly, the squealing Aemon was dropped into Arya’s hold. “Mind your valonqar, sweetling.”
“Ugh… why can’t Jon or Robb help me watch him?”
“Cause we need to meet Marg and her Maid of Honor at the diner.” Whenever he mentioned his fiancee, Robb’s eyes lit up in something both sweet and greatly disgusting, but the mysterious Maid of Honor was one that created a lot of speculation in the Stark and Targaryen households. “First time Jon and I are meeting her.”
Arya was still glaring. “Why can’t this be at the fancy party? Then you and muna can go together.” She smiled sweetly at them, the effect enhanced by the ever innocent Aemon.
Luckily, Lyanna was watching their backs. “This is a political thing, and I want to spare your brother the spectacle of your grandfather making him show off all his medals and decorations. Your kepa is just old enough to get out of it, finally.”
“He just gets out of it cause everyone’s seen him in them from grandfather’s bragging.” A long line of military heroes, House Targaryen gave - as the story went, such was how Lyanna and Rhaegar met and fell in love. “And thanks, muna. ”
“Still not fair!” Arya complained.
Lyanna put her hands on her hips. “Arya Targaryen, you have a mansion with a seventy-two inch TV and game console to keep you entertained. Stop complaining.”
When people talked about how fierce Arya was, it was Lyanna that she got it from. “Kessa, muna,” she said quietly, which earned a kiss on the cheek from Lyanna. “So who’s this Maid of Honor?”
Robb shrugged. “Dunno. Some girl that was her college roommate. Daenerys Baelerys I think she’s called.”
“Baelerys… isn’t that a big ruling family in Valyria?” Jon asked.
“I think so.” Lyanna looked to Robb. “Is she… single?”
“Muna!” Jon buried his face in his hands. “
“What? I’m just looking out for my little sweet pup.” Pinching his cheeks, Lya cooed over an immensely mortified Jon.
“That’s going in the wedding speech!”
“Would you like a cappuccino while you wait, Miss Belaerys?”
Smiling up at Irri from her seat - trying not to giggle as her ticklish feet and toes were attended to by Doreah - Daenerys nodded. “Decaf, please. Not sure I could handle actual caffeine with all my stress.” The pretty, young woman nodded, darting off to the back to make it for her.
The salon always had excellent service in spite of being one of the most popular in King’s Landing. Well… it didn't hurt that Dany was friends with the owner.
Smiling, completely relaxed, she didn’t notice Margaret’s incredulous look until the bride-to-be cleared her throat and forced the silver-blonde to look up. “What?”
“Seriously, Dany?” the graceful brunette shot back. “I’m the one getting married and you claim to be debilitated by stress?” As naturally, her former college roommate was dressed to the nines. Golden hoop earrings, red lipstick with just a hint of rouge on her cheek, and a sleeveless black dress with a white collar that showed off her gorgeous figure. Someone only the most beautiful could hope to compare against.
Dany was one of those, she could safely declare. While simple, her floral-print cream dress reaching mid-thigh and eggshell cardigan combo could rival supermodels. “Sorry, Marg…” A sigh. “Just can’t stand it sometimes. The hustle and bustle, only out of the blue, the head surgeon mentoring me goes on vacation to Lys and I'm stuck with the other one that hates me.” Her lips curled into a snarl, one that was quite jarring on her rather cherubic face.
Even Marg flinched. “The one who wants to sleep with you or the one that thinks you're sleeping with her girlfriend?”
“The former is the aforementioned girlfriend of the latter, and no. This is the one who thinks I'm too much of a know it all.” Only a year into her residency, Dany loved being a surgeon - just that, a surgeon. The mundane lackey work just didn’t appeal to her. “I should start my own hospital.”
“You’d be great at it,” Margaery replied. “You could come work for me. Tyrell Garments could always use an in-house counsel to treat our models. They all seem to get drug addictions, unfortunately.”
A smirk. “Only thing less vapid than fashion designers are those that hire fashion designers, though from what I know about you it’s pretty cutthroat. I may just take you up on that if I’m hard-pressed enough.” The girls shared a laugh as they got their matching pedicures.
Naath Nail was once a mom-and-pop salon that fought their way up to being quite successful in the middle of King’s Landing, created by immigrants from Naath fleeing political instability. Now, it was a thriving multi-location business largely thanks to the woman walking towards Daenerys and Margaery. “Enjoying your stay at Naath Nail?” she asked, placid smile on her face.
Daenerys smiled. “Come on, Missy. You know we love it here.”
“Yeah, cause it’s free.”
Missandei clapped her hands, grinning. “Couldn’t resist.” A childhood friend of Daenerys, she met Margaery on a business venture and was the impetus of the two resuming their relationship left aloof thanks to ending college. “Glad to have you here. And of course, it’s free.”
“I appreciate that.” Both could pay her, but the gesture of friendship couldn’t be ignored.
“So, any special reason we’re here getting our hair done besides the fun and relaxation of it?” It seemed sacreligious for her girlish side, but Dany wasn’t so lacking in confidence to deny that she and Margaery possessed the sort of hair that defied deshevling.
Well, unless it was sex, but that was ancient history for Dany as far as she was concerned.
Margaery wrinkled her nose. “You mean to tell me you would’ve denied our day out if I simply wanted to have fun with my Maid of Honor?”
Dany met her fake glare. “Marg, here I am in my best dress short of a formal gown and wearing summer heels. You may be a Tyrell, but I know you’re not averse to wearing jeans and going to a dive bar, so something’s up.”
Rolling her eyes, the glamorous Tyrell nevertheless nodded. “Fine. You know Robb, right?”
“Yes, I know of Robb. The ‘gorgeous hunk of man meat’ that you can never stop gushing on about.” Truly, the former man-hungry brunette had never been so besotted. The engagement came just as Daario dumped her and such hadn’t been the easiest for Dany to deal with - to be depressed for herself while at the same time happy for her oldest friend, someone she was desperate to rekindle her relationship with.
Missy, quiet for the moment while her two more outspoken friends duked it out, couldn’t help but interject. “Forgive me, Marg, but I would’ve suggested that you were here to make yourself more enticing for Robb but knowing him you could wear a burlap sack and he would jump you.”
While she and Dany started giggling, Margaery opened her mouth… only to close it, purse her lips, and nod. “I have a dress like that Sansa convinced me to wear as a test. Still did it - best sex I’ve ever had, ironically enough.” Her grin was absolutely shameless. “But enough about my sex life, since it will only emphisize your lack thereof, Dany.”
She scowled. “Must you?”
“I think she does,” chuckled Missy. She could afford to - after the longest time she finally found her man.
“Yes I do, but enough distractions. The reason I summoned you here is cause it’s time to meet Robb and Robb’s best man - you are Maid of Honor after all.”
Groaning, Dany let her head fall back. From what was said of Robb he was nice enough, but who knows what this man could be like? Maybe he’s a jerk, or a grab ass. Gods’ knew she ran into a bunch thanks to Margaery. “This isn’t some blind date is it?”
A snort. “I’ve learned my lesson after my last one got a knee in the stones for getting too handsy, thank you very much.” Truth be told, Marg had been very guilty about that, but Dany easily forgave her. “No, this is not a blind double date - Robb and I want you to meet Jon so you two can coordinate your activities for the wedding.”
“Jon? What kind of name is that?”
“It’s short for something… Jaehaerys I think.”
That name was Valyrian and piqued Dany’s interest, but Missandei recognized it and her eyes bulged out. “Jaehaerys?! Jaehaerys Targaryen you mean?!”
Now that name was one Dany recognized. “Targaryen? The founding family of the Westerosi Consulate. Any relation to former Consuls Visenya and Aegon?” Husband and wife had back-to-back consulships. Rumor was their son was making a bid for it himself. As her family was very politically strong back home in Valyria - though not her branch - Dany knew plenty.
Margaery grinned. “As a Tyrell and soon-to-be Stark, I only associate with the best. Jaehaerys is their grandson.”
Quickly typing the name into her smartphone, the wikipedia article revealed… “Damn, the first Jaehaerys Targaryen, dictator during the war with Dorne.” Surfing through, all Missy could find was… “Rhaegar Targaryen does have a son named Jaehaerys, but that’s all I can find.”
“Too young to have much of a career then,” Dany remarked. “Have you met him, Marg?”
The Tyrell beauty nodded. “Once, but he was in the army for a bit so while I dated Robb for the most part he was deployed. Just got discharged.”
“Is he single?”
“Missy!” Dany gaped at her incredulously. “You’ve just moved in with Dom.”
She shrugged. “I know… but he’s a Targaryen. A girl can only hope?”
Sighing, Daenerys stretched her arms. “Perhaps it would be safer if I went. You know, keep Missy from doing something she regrets.” Her best friend gave an obviously fake put out look while Marg pumped her arm in an excited squeal.
Watching him take a long drag, blowing out one final cloud of smoke before he dropped the butt on the pavement and ground it with his boottip, Robb scrunched his nose. “Must you, cousin?”
Jon glared back. “Believe me, I wish I could.”
“With how hard you brood, you’re as stubborn as your grandmother.” That was a rather powerful comparison. “You can quit if you want to… gods, why did you start with those death sticks in the first place?”
The vet of the Third Dothraki War shrugged. “Combat’s a nerve-wracking thing to put it mildly. These things help… plus I’d rather not smell dead bodies, or whatever that rancid odor coming out of Flea Bottom is.”
“Oh, that’s the broken waste-treatment plant. Consul Robert keeps saying he’s gonna fix it but he doesn’t allocate the funds.”
“That’s the douchebag that wanted to marry my muna,” Jon replied with distaste. “Thank the Gods she met my kepa and Rhaenys. Fell in love with them immediately from what they say.”
“My parents agree with that story, so I’d believe them all.”
They were walking down the sidewalk of the trendy downtown of King’s Landing in between the Red Keep and the Great Sept. To the left was the artisan-heavy Street of Steel and to the right the Street of Silk, the entertainment district - both tasteful and… otherwise. Before Marg and the war, both cousins loved that place. Now it seemed… childish.
That didn’t mean Jon was any less alone, but he was always better that way. Probably why Ygritte sought comfort in his former friend. In any case, he’d rather change the subject. “Any cold feet for the wedding? It’s coming up quick.”
“Cold feet? Gods no… you think I’d get cold feet for Margaery?”
“Considering you’ve never once dated a woman for more than three months at a time before her, the question is rather valid.” Talisa, Jeyne, Dacey… the latter he rather liked but Robb and she parted on good terms. Not like the others which usually were filled with drama.
But that Robb was gone, replaced by some sort of besotted fool that… was rather refreshing. “Have you seen Margaery? Or heard her? Gods, I was hooked from the beginning.”
“So it’s just lust?” Another glare from Robb. “Forgive me, but I was out of the country dodging bullets when you fell for her.”
The look softened. “Sorry. But yeah, was that at first but, I just couldn’t help but falling madly for her. All those songs about soulmates that we used to make fun of with Arya - the ones Sansa loved.” He snickered. “They all came true with Margaery. She’s… simply the best.”
Jon grinned. “No shit, and a Tyrell no less.” His brow rose. “Think the heir to Olenna’s fashion empire would like a greasy spoon diner?” Hot Pie’s was their childhood hangout, as it was for their parents before them when the stifling atmosphere of consular dinners during the multiple terms of both his grandparents… and then their parents for them. “I mean, I’ve seen her pictures and she’s always dressed as a supermodel - you’re a lucky bastard by the way.”
Robb grinned back. “The luckiest, and don’t worry. I thought the same thing but then she devoured a forty-eight ounce steak in less than an hour while dressed in short-shorts and a crop top.”
“Lucky bastard,” Jon repeated. “And this Daenerys? Is she good?”
The diner appeared as they turned the corner, still decorated in the style of decades past in contrast with the glass and steel monstrosities as Visenya Targaryen often harped about. “Never met her as I told Arya. But if she’s a friend of Marg then she’ll be good, trust me.”
“Hopefully. Since she’s the maid of honor, I’m gonna be dealing with her for the entire wedding for better or for ill.” Pushing through the door, he smiled. “Val!”
The pretty blonde waitress waved at him. “Jaehaerys, welcome!” She was an acquaintance of his, and they flirted a lot. “Robb, you too.”
“Gee, thanks.” He snickered. “Is our party here?”
“Aye, two gorgeous ladies, booth over by the window.”
“Thank you. Come on, Jon.” Immediately, Robb’s eyes lit up. “Sweetheart!” He rushed to the booth, and soon his mouth was locked with his fiancee. “Jon, please meet my darling Margaery.”
Margaery blushed. “Oh Robb, stop it,” she giggled. “Jon, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“Likewise, Robb has said a lot…” Suddenly, he trailed off, eyes finally tracking to the woman still seated in the booth. She was utterly breathtaking, silver-blonde hair falling around her shoulders in waves and waist trim in her beautiful sundress. Twin violet eyes widened as they met him, seemingly equally stunned.
“This is Daenerys Balaerys. Dany, this is Jaehaerys Targaryen.”
“Um… a pleasure,” Dany spoke, rubbing the back of her neck as she reached up to shake his hand.
Jon reached out with a trembling hand. “Aye, a pleasure.” As their hands touched, he was sure he felt a little spark.
“...see, normally she was busy with her family’s fashion contracts all day so I couldn’t talk to her on the phone, so we would use these little apps on our laptops to keep in contact…”
“You were always such a bad influence on me, Robb Stark. No wonder my grandmother only tolerated you cause of your last name.”
“Honestly, if she wasn’t your grandmother I’d have told her off years ago.” Both Robb and Margaery burst into laughter, the latter poking her man in the side until the former began peppering her with kisses all over her nose and cheeks.
Pretty much dominated by the animated discussion by the lovebirds, Daenerys hadn’t been able to get a word in until now. “Um… guys, can you stop that?”
Pulling back, Margaery refused to appear bothered although she conceded the point. “Sorry Dany, but can you help me with this one?” She cupped Robb’s cheek. “He’s just so damn cute.”
“You’re the cute one,” Robb replied with complete genuineness. Their heads slowly inched towards each other.
“Well you’re with two very hopelessly single people so stop it,” Jon insisted. Hopelessly single. Daenerys had no idea how this man was single. What woman would let this gorgeous Valyrian god go? Her thoughts surprised Dany, but it was true. Northern as his coloring was, Jon was very clearly Valyrian in the way only a Targaryen could be.
She couldn’t help but be drawn to it and it was driving Dany mad.
“Anyway, back to the story.” Robb looked only barely holding himself from dissolving into giggles. “I finally found a time to call Marg, only for her to call me. Excited as I was to speak with her, I nevertheless answered in the most robotic voice I could muster ‘Hello, you have reached a number that is not in service at this time…’ And she hung up!” He burst out laughing, one that was joined by Dany and also Jon.
A cross look formed on Margaery’s face. “I still hate you for that, by the way.”
“No you don’t, my love.”
Her eyes softened. “No, I don’t.” They kissed again.
Luckily for the two singles, Val arrived with their meals. Setting them down in front of them. “Ere ya go, Jaehaerys. I added a little extra onion rings for ya, on the house.” She stroked his shoulder.
“Thanks Val,” he replied with a smile, one that made Dany frown. Hussy.
Even as they ate, Robb and Margaery dominated the conversation but unlike before, Daenerys wasn’t listening. She couldn’t even if she wanted to, distracted as she was by Jon Targaryen. His presence, his voice, his smell… gods, his smell. Dany wasn’t one to care about that but how could a man have such a wonderful scent. Get it together. They hadn’t shared but a few words together but… You’ve been lonely for so long, that’s why. Yes, that’s why.
Even as most of her meal remained on the plate, Daenerys found herself barely able to eat. Instead, she let her fork clatter to the table… which drew slight jumps from both Robb and Margaery - lost in each other - and Jon, who seemed as much in a funk as he. “Sorry,” she squeaked sheepishly, clearing her throat. “But may I use the lady’s room?”
“Why do you need to ask permission, Dany?” Marg asked. “Go on.”
She shrugged. “I would, but… seems I can’t…” With a subtle gesture, she indicated Jon in the booth next to her, hemming her in.
Robb laughed, Marg chuckled softly, “Silly me,” she said, only for Jon to blush.
“Forgive me,” he remarked, gallantly stepping out and offering her an exit. “After you.”
Such over-the-top and cheesy gestures normally made the half-formal, half-unabashed Daenerys roll her eyes, but there was something about Jon Targaryen that made her smile instead. “What a gentleman,” she murmured, only to see him stand straighter and eyes sparkle. Grey eyes, beautiful ones. How can he have such grey eyes?
To say she rushed to the restroom was an understatement.
Truthfully, the minute and a half the Valyrian beauty spent on the rather… surprisingly clean toilet was an exercise in futility, and Daenerys was forced to simply move to the sink and stare at herself in the mirror. Gods, what was wrong with her? Even her time with Drogo out in the Dothraki Sea - up to this point her most adventurous and sensual - never made her feel like this. So… lusting.
“Ridiculous.” Reaching out to turn on the knob, cold water streamed out which felt good on her hands. “I am a Belaerys, a dragon.” What kind of proud Valyrian would she be if she went mooney eyes over some guy. Even if he did have raven-black hair, toned body, luscious lips, gorgeous grey eyes she found herself getting lost in…
By Balerion… Her eyes shut, shaking her head. You’re better than this…
Drying her hands quickly, Daenerys pushed out of the restroom idly only to smack into something hard. “Ouch… watch where you’re…” Her fusillade of verbal abuse died when she stared up - not that far, since they were of similar heights - into Jon Targaryen’s eyes. “Oh… excuse me.” She blushed.
To his credit, he didn’t let her take the blame as Daario would’ve. “No no, it was my fault.” He laughed awkwardly. “To think, I spent much of my life with my head on a swivel in combat, only now I didn’t look where I was going in a public toilet.”
“Technically we’re outside the restroom,” she replied with her usual precision, only with Jon she felt a little remorseful about how irate she sounded. “Sorry, I just like using the right words.”
Daenerys saw him raise his brow. “You a teacher or something? Maybe you told me earlier but over Florian and Jonquil over there spouting off love poetry to each other, I must’ve missed it.”
“That’s fine… I only remember you’re a vet cause Marg told me before.” She gave a reassuring smile. “I’m a doctor.”
“Yikes. Better be careful around you, then.”
Somehow, she found that greatly amusing. “Fraid I’d know how to gut you like a fish cause I know the best parts to hit?”
He shrugged. “Don’t wanna take that risk in case you’re a psycho… though I’m sure you’re not.”
She raised a brow at him. “How do you know I’m not?”
“Dunno. Just a feeling. I’m usually good at reading people.”
“Ironic, so am I.”
They stared at each other in silence for either the briefest of moments or time eternal. Which was it, Dany didn’t remember. All she did know was one moment she and Jon Targaryen were having an awkward conversation and the next she was pressed against the wall of the little alcove with his lips slanted over hers. For a split second Daenerys felt trapped, instinctively trying to smack him or knee him in the crotch, but that ended as she grew aware of the moan she voiced into his mouth and the way she melded her body flush against his.
Gods, she wanted this kiss just as much as he apparently did. And boy did he want it - there was no way she couldn’t feel the steel rebar straining in his jeans.
What am I doing? Why am I kissing him…? Why wasn’t I kissing him earlier? Tessarion, what is wrong with me…?
None of her crazed jumble of thoughts kept her from sticking her tongue down his throat, reaching up to finger his raven curls and pull him down for more.
Not knowing how much time had passed, a spate of laughter managed to burst through the shared lust-filled haze. Eyes widening, Jon pushed them apart. Daenerys was visibly hurt and confused for but a split second before her half-lidded eyes caught their waitress looking straight at them, biting her lip as her eyes radiated mirth. “Such a shame… all the good ones are taken or gay.”
Seeing Jon - a man she had just met - basically rub the back of his neck as he blushed, Dany was sure she matched him in flush of face. “Um, I… we’re not… um…”
Still laughing, Val the waitress clapped Dany on the shoulder. “Honey, do not let this man go. He’s to die for.” She sauntered to Jon. “If she is an idiot and dumps you, here’s my number.” Val shoved a slip of paper into his hand and headed for the restroom, leaving the two youths to deal with the aftermath of all of it.
Silence reigned between them. Head doing its best to sink back into her neck and shoulders, Dany averted her gaze. Unable to know what to do if she saw Jon again, whether she’d just faint in embarrassment…
Or kiss him again… and never stop.
“I…” she finally heard Jon say, voice halting but steady. “I think we should go back… they’re probably getting worried.”
Forcing bravery, Daenerys looked up at him - somehow, Jon’s utter bashfulness and clear discomfort in the situation managed to help her. He was as stunned by all of this as she was, proving he wasn’t some kind of player or predator. “Knowing them, they’re too busy staring into each other’s eyes.”
He suddenly snorted, then laughed. “Aye. That’s them alright.” Jon laughed some more, which led Dany to laugh.
While amusing, neither was under the delusion it was anything but a save from having to deal with what happened.
Or the fact it was taking everything in them not to resume their kiss.