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Chapter Text

'Can't Feel My Face' by The Weeknd pours from Gendry's Wharfedale speakers and fills his ears like water. The beat hums in his chest and he doesn't care how big and goofy his grin is right now. He drains the dregs of the Corona in his hand, proud that he outdrank one of his best friends, Robb, who was probably passed out in the cab with Jon and Ygritte right now. What did he do again? Gendry searches the fog in his head, he remembers it was funny but the memory of exactly what it was that Robb did evades him.

His lips and fingers are numb with drink, and it feels so weird rubbing his thumb along his fingertips, like all five digits belong to someone else. Who cares, he's warm and relaxed and though it kind of feels like moving underwater, this huge mass that is his body has never been so light.

A bottle cap pops and falls to the floor, followed by another as Arya sets the bottle opener on the kitchen bench. She slinks over to him on a slight arc, like his apartment isn't steel, brick and concrete securely attached to the earth, but maybe a small boat out at sea, the floor of the open plan living space rocking with the ebb and flow of the ocean.

'You're wasted.' He hoots, taking the bottle of beer and clinking it with hers.

'Am not.' She holds a finger up, saving her place in the conversation while she downs down a quarter of her beer. How on earth a woman as small as Arya managed to keep up with him, drink for drink while her brothers had to call it a night, is beyond him. 'Look, watch me make this shot.' She sets her drink down to pick up her cue, hooded steel grey eyes locked on his while her tongue darts, teasingly to the corner of her sly smile. The fingertips of her free hand brush along his arm as she makes her way past. The moves of the game they're really playing. Not the game of eight ball, on a table far too big for his small apartment, but the game they'd been playing for months now. A lingering look over a cup of coffee. Easy smiles that become shy ones. A feather light caress of fingertips as they watch Netflix, slouched together on the couch. A tongue moistening dry lips, preparing for words that neither could seem to find the courage to confess. Countless drinks in, Gendry found himself wondering why they were still dancing around the elephant in the room. It was time.

Arya lines up the white ball to the cushion two-thirds down the table that is his most prized possession. It's full sized, and he got it for a steal when their favourite hangout, Bronn's 8 Ball closed a month ago. The thing took up the entire dining area, and you couldn't make a shot from the left, by the door unless you held the cue at a ridiculous angle. That hadn't stopped Arya from sinking every ball and kicking everyone's ass all night, his especially. Gendry set his own bottle down and crept up behind her, his footsteps drowned out by the stereo. I can't feel my face when I'm with you. She's bent low and that cute little, round ass of hers, snug in her jeans, sits up nicely in the air while she stretches across the table on tippy toes. Gendry cradles her body with his as she pulls the cue back. His fingertips tingle as he runs them up just under the hem of her faded Pixies tee, something her mom, Catelyn handed down to her. His fingers skim her side as he breathes the next line of the song in her ear, 'But, I love it.' just as she pops the cue, sending the white ball off the side of the table and bouncing along the tiled floor.

Chapter Text

Wake me up before you go-go - George Michaels' far too upbeat voice coaxes Arya out of oblivion. Ughh, Sansa! What the fuck? It isn't like her sister to be so obnoxious, especially first thing in the morning. Ygritte, maybe. But, not Sansa.

She palms the sleep from her eyes, the slight pressure enough to send the lead balloon that is her head to thudding, and leaves black kohl smeared on her hands.

'Mmphh.' She groans and closes her eyes immediately, now awake enough to remember that she set that stupid song as the alarm on her phone. Why'd I set my alarm? The sour and bitter of lime, tequila and beer mingles in her dry mouth, and she licks her lips, desperate for water. How is it possible to feel this thirsty after drinking so much?

Her bare, heavy limbs protest as she stretches, and her phone finally gives up somewhere in the distance and goes blessedly silent. Brunch. She remembers, lifting herself up on her elbows, wishing she could go back to sleep. She had set her alarm so that she wouldn't sleep through Sansa's all important Saturday brunch tradition. Even though the worst hangover in the history of hangovers is brewing, bubbling away like the fresh pot of coffee she knows will cure it, Arya opens her eyes, but it isn't her own room that greets her.

There is no cluttered Ikea bedside table to her right, no scarf strewn hat stand in the corner. Only her discarded jeans and underwear laying crumpled on grey carpeted floor. With a slow sweep of the room she realises where she is. The midmorning sun shines warm through the sheer mustard curtains that she helped him pick out at the charity store, and his welding gear sits propped up in the corner. Gendry's room. And I'm naked.

The faintest rumble of a snore turns her aching head, and there he is. Covering her mouth to stifle the gasp that might wake him, Arya suddenly feels more awake than any person this hung over has the right to be. OH, MY GOD! WE HAD SEX! Her wide eyes take in the sight of him, laying sprawled on his stomach naked as the day he was born. His broad shoulders and back, tan against the crisp white sheets. The hollows and peaks of his shoulder blades. The deep groove of his spine between the muscles of his back draws her eye down to the two small dimples of his lower back. There's always been something so ridiculously alluring about those two little dimples of his that sit just above the crack of his perfectly curved ass. An ass that is right now just barely peaking out, teasingly from beneath the top sheet that lays over him.

We. Had. Sex. Her head pounds as she tries to piece together the night they shared. Some after work drinks and pool at Gendry's, with Jon, Ygritte and Robb. Jeyne was on night shift and couldn't make it. Bran and Rickon were still in high school. Sansa, as always, just wanted to stay home. Someday, she hoped her sister would crawl out of that dark hole she's been living in since the nightmare that was Joffrey.

Tequila. Lots of tequila to start, then the music played louder and the beer started flowing. She was killing it at the pool table. Robb had her Polaroid camera and he- Oh, geez. Robb! Thank fuck Jon and Ygritte took him home. A chuckle escapes her lips at the memory of her eldest brother's antics, and Gendry stirs at the sound. Arya shifts slightly at his movement and finds herself sitting in a wet patch. Her fingers slip discretely beneath the sheet to the stickiness between her thighs, and any doubt she may have had is gone. It really happened.

One heavy lidded blue eye, rimmed with red, opens beneath Gendry's mess of thick black hair. Once it focuses and zeroes in on her the other eye opens to match. His brows go up and his eyes widen. There's a kind of relief in their shared confusion. She wasn't the only one that couldn't remember, it seemed. Biting back a smile, she thinks it's almost funny that after all this time, this is how it finally happens. Gendry pushes himself up onto his elbows and drags his hands down his face, blinks a few times and shakes his head.

'Bad idea, Gen.'

He groans and cradles his head in his hands for a brief moment before looking back over as if to check if Arya really was there. Looking like a deer in headlights, Gendry climbs off his side of the bed, cupping his modesty with both hands. She follows suit, getting up from her side of the bed, and wrapping the sheet around her. Black brows knit together in confusion as his eyes lose focus on her and search the area between them for an answer. An unwelcome, and completely humiliating belch rumbles passed Arya's lips, announcing all that she'd had to eat and drink last night plans on a reappearance. Pressing her lips together tight, she concentrates on a deep breath in and out of her nose to keep it at bay. Say something, you idiot. She tells herself, watching as Gendry reaches for a pillow to cover himself with, evidently needing a free hand to stop his own head from rolling off his shoulders and onto the floor.

' I think I'm still drunk.' His voice is hoarse, and he clears his throat after speaking.

'I-' Arya gets that one syllable out, wanting to fill the silence, before her stomach contents grabs hold of it and follows. Clasping a hand to her mouth to hold it in, she races through the bedroom doorway, her feet slipping on the sheet wrapped around her as she careens around the corner and into the bathroom. Greeting the toilet like an old friend, Arya wraps her arms around the porcelain bowl, heaving and retching until her stomach feels like it will turn inside out. A large, clammy hand sweeps back the locks of her hair that hang perilously close to the action. Please, God, no. Gendry, don't watch me puke.

When the torrent finally ceases, Arya sits back on her heels, looking up at Gendry as his hand falls away.

'You okay?' He asks, voice dripping with pity and looking a little green himself.

'Never better.' She quips, getting to her feet. After a couple of mouthfuls of water from the basin, Arya ventures a look into the mirror above it. 'Uggh. I look like a zombie racoon.' She says turning back to Gendry expecting him to laugh, then maybe they could finally get it all out in the open and move forward. But, when his eyes meet hers her heart sinks. It isn't humour or shyness, or even confusion looking back at her from behind those usually warm blue eyes that have long sent her heart racing. It is disappointment. An entirely new and unfamiliar instinct awakens in Arya with a force that propels her into action.

'I've got to go.' Arya pushes passed Gendry's almost naked body filling the doorway, knocking his pillow to the ground in her wake. Fight or flight? Fight or flight? Gendry calls out her name, bending to retrieve it before following her back into his room. Jeans. Underwear. She takes stock of the belongings she's located, searching for the rest on the floor around the bed.

'What? Why?...You're leaving?' The shock and hurt on his face does nothing to erase her memory of the look he wore a moment ago. Acutely aware of both of their nakedness, Arya wiggles into her underwear with a great degree of difficulty while trying to keep herself covered up with the bed sheet. The ridiculousness of the situation isn't lost on her. They've just had sex, even if neither of them can remember it. Yet, here she is with her back to him so he can't see her breasts as she pulls on her jeans. Fight or flight?

'Arya?' His sad tone makes her slow down from the manic pace that hasn't done a thing to help the mounting pressure in her skull that throbs with every movement. Slows her, but cannot bring her to look at him. Fight comes naturally to Arya, the idea of running away from something, from Gendry of all people, makes her feel... Weak? Small? Ashamed? Unable to label what exactly it makes her feel, Arya hates it all the same, and turns around sharp with an arm covering her chest.

'I'm supposed to be meeting Professor Forel about boosting my grade.' She tells him as convincingly as she can and doesn't wait for a reply as she makes her way passed him and out the door into the open plan living area, much too small for the pool table that dominates it. Her favourite tee lies crumpled on the table's felt top. Snatching it up, she looks around, wild eyed, for her bra feeling her face grow warmer by the second.

'You have a meeting with your Sociology professor on a Saturday?'

Arya's gaze darts, involuntarily to the pillow he still holds to cover himself. She lifts her eyes to the muscled plane of his stomach and up further, lost in the sight of his chest, shoulders and arms. Why does he have to make this so hard? She wants to run her hands, her lips, her tongue over every inch that her eyes have just taken in. To look him in the eyes right now would break her.

'He's uh, grading papers today. Professor Forel, I mean.' She finally answers, not to his face but higher, to the dishevelled mess of his hair that makes her clench her fists at the thought of running her fingers through it.

-Arya felt small in his embrace. Rocked back and forth as she sat astride him. Gendry's arms, wet with their sweat as he held her to him, one large hand splayed across the curve of her ass, guiding her movements. The other between her shoulder blades, as he trailed warm, wet kisses down her neck to her breasts.. With her fingers threaded through Gendry's hair she arched her back and drew him closer. They'd each had their fair share of drink to get them to this point, but it was Gendry she was drunk on. Her head swam with the sensation of him, filling her and surrounding her. From the delicious, aching pleasure building where they were joined, to the feel of his strong thighs beneath hers as he knelt with her on his lap. His callused hands against her soft skin, to the sound of his name on her lips as he licked, drawing a nipple into his mouth-

'Gendry.' His name is almost a moan on her breath as the all too brief recollection of the night before leaves her. Heart racing, she tries to hold onto it, to find something to clutch onto so she can remember the rest. But it's gone. A small, bright flame like a match in the night, burning fast down to her fingertips, and leaving her in the dark.

'Arya, are you okay?' Gendry steps forward, reaching his free hand out. Great. First he's disappointed, now he's worried. This is humiliating.

'I've got to go.' Arya pulls on her top, deciding she has more than enough bras at home, this one can stay lost. Grabbing her shoulder bag and phone off the kitchen bench, Arya makes a fast track for her Converse by the door. Fight or flight? Flight.

'I'll catch you later, yeah?' Arya speaks over Gendry's plea of Arya, wait, and slips her shoes on, not bothering with the laces. Her eyes begin to sting as she turns the handle of the front door. With a shaky smile that betrays her, Arya backs out of Gendry's apartment and shuts the door as fast as she can. The wood is cold under her fingers as she raises her hands to the flat surface. Grateful that Gendry's landlord was too cheap for peepholes, she closes her eyes and presses her forehead against it. Cold as it is, it doesn't soothe the storm hammering down inside her head.

With her phone in her hand, she walks away. A glance back to the door tells her what she already knows. He isn't coming after her. Swiping a thumb at the screen, she taps and brings up her call log. Gendry. Gendry. Gendry. Hot Pie. Nope. Gendry. Gendry. Jon. Her cousin's name alongside a photo of Jon and his dog, Ghost, stares up at her from its place between multiple calls to and from Gendry, who looks goofy and happy in that dumb beanie that he often wore. Her thumb hovers above Jon's name then continues to scroll. True, she was closer to him than her own siblings, but sex was definitely off the table when it comes to things she'd feel comfortable talking to him about. Gendry. Gendry. Sansa. Arya scrapes her teeth along her lower lip and she starts to type out a quick text before she has a chance to change her mind.

Sansa, I'm coming over.

Chapter Text

Gendry

She walked out. Gave him a plastic smile that didn't reach her glistening grey eyes, and pulled the door shut between them.

Naked or not, the urge to run after her was strong. But, the stubborn voice that argued with his heart and his gut stilled his hand at the door. And what would you say to her if you did go out there? The pillow bounces off the back of the couch with an unsatisfying slap when he flings it. Exhaling slowly, Gendry closes his eyes and rests his head against the door. What the fuck have I done?

Puking in the shower wasn't his finest moment, but it did make him feel marginally better. Barefoot, in a pair of low slung grey tracksuit pants and a white tee, Gendry towels his hair and checks his phone. Nothing. No surprise there. Arya couldn't get of the place quick enough, there was no reason to hope for a missed call or a text while he'd been in the shower. Tossing the phone onto the empty mess of his bed, Gendry lets his eyes wonder over the spread of crinkled white sheet and discarded quilt.

How did we end up THAT drunk? Kneeling on the bed, he runs his fingers across the sheets, trying to summon some kind of memory of the night before. Laying down on his belly, Gendry buries his face into the pillow that Arya had slept on, and breathes in deep.

-He loved the smell of her. Leaning over Arya as she lined up the white ball with her cue, Gendry breathed her in and sang along in her ear. Not one for those overpowering perfumes that other women wore, like vanilla, flowers or musk, Arya always smelt so wonderfully like, well, Arya. Of fresh clean linen and soap, and that underlying scent that was hers alone. Breathing her in was like taking a breath of fresh air. The faintest hint of coffee lingered in her hair from her day shift at 'Barista Selmy's House of Coffee'.

'But, I love it.'

Arya skewed the shot and the white ball hit the cushion of the pool table at an angle, sending it bouncing along the tiled floor of his apartment. The skin of her left hip, just above her waistband was soft and warm under his touch. As he straightened up, allowing her to turn around and face him, his hand lightly skimmed her back. Her move. He thinks to himself, heart thumping like a rabbit at full speed.

Stretching up to her full five foot - four, and with a fire in her eyes, Arya made Gendry unsure whether she was about to kiss him or punch him. Then her arms were around his neck, and her lips against his. He sighed into her mouth as months of uncertainty faded away. The feel of her small hands moving from his neck over his shoulders, and fisting into the front of his shirt as she kissed him hard and urgently, drove him out of his mind with need.

Gendry pulled her in close and ran his hands down to the backs of her thighs, bending to lift her onto the table. Her legs wrapped around him, and she locked her ankles, pressing him hard against her.-

Gendry lifts his face from her pillow and sucks in a deep breath. Rock hard, he closes his eyes, desperate to remember what happened next, but it wouldn't come to him. All he is left with is her scent, a fading hangover, and an almost painful boner. Rolling off of it and onto his back, he wonders whether to finish himself off or take another shower. A cold one. His phone is a black beacon on a sea of white from the corner of his eye and he grabs it knowing what he has to do.

Arya

Arya we need to talk. Where R U?

She stares down at the message on her phone in one hand, the strong black coffee that Sansa had made her, forgotten in the other.

'You should call him.' Her sister insists, taking a sip of her tea where she sits curled up in a wing chair. Her beautiful auburn hair set aglow by the sun filled window. Staring sightlessly into her coffee cup, Arya takes a large gulp and shakes her head.

'You didn't see the look on his face, Sansa. I can't face him yet.' She switches her phone off and sinks deeper into the sofa, pulling a yellow and white spotted cushion to her chest and drawing her knees up against it. The Advil kicked in while she filled Sansa in over toast and honey. The dullest headache remained, forgotten and overshadowed by the hurt in her chest. The clicking of a key turning in the front door announces the third member of The Brunch Club, and Sansa huffs.

'Disappointed? Are you sure? Arya, I've seen the way he looks at you. I can't imagine he'd be anything but overjoyed-'

'Who's overjoyed?' Ygritte shuts the door behind her and shrugs of her satchel, dropping it by the side table. Setting two brown paper bags down on the kitchen bench, she slides her aviators up into her wild red curls. Their friend and soon to be cousin-in-law looks from one to the other, and back to Arya. 'What's wrong?' She asks, when no-one answers, and walks over to take a seat next to her on the sofa, tucking one leg beneath the other. Sansa raises a ruddy brow questioning, and Arya answers with a nod.

'Arya-and-Gendry-had-sex!' The speed and excitement in Sansa's explanation shocks Arya and delights Jon's fiancée.

'Finally!.' She beams, giving a playful punch to Arya's shoulder. 'I think I won- wait.' Ygritte's elation is paused as she leans forward, putting a concerned hand on Arya's drawn up knee. 'Why aren't you happy? I thought you'd be stoked.' Her questioning eyes search Arya's face. 'Was he a bad lay?' The girls freckles bunch together as she scrunches her face up in sympathy.

'I wouldn't know.' It's more a lie than an exaggeration as the tiny glimpse of the night before plays over and over in her mind like a favourite song.

'She doesn't remember." Sansa elaborates, lifting her tea cup up in offer to Ygritte who declines with a shake of her head.

'How can you not remember?'

'Well, that's not entirely true. I remember a little.' Those last four words coming out wistful and dreamy, so completely alien from Arya that they bring the other girls forward to the edge of their seats. Arya sets down her coffee cup, letting her hair fall down to curtain her burning cheeks. She buries her face in the cushion when Ygritte and Sansa squeal Oh, my God! in unison.

'It was good.' Ygritte shakes her, demanding tell me, tell me, TELL ME, making the sisters laugh.

'It was. I know it was.' Arya concedes with a sigh. Sansa props her elbows on her knees and her chin in her palms, eager to hear more, like it was a fairytale and not a complete nightmare.

'But, then it was awkward. This morning.' She looks from one girl to the other. 'I threw up in front of him. And I looked bloody awful, all panda eyes and shit. We got so fucking drunk.' She worries her lower lip. 'It was just as big a shock to him...maybe more. I don't know, he looked so...' She shakes her head and curls around the cushion, thoughts of that look on Gendry's face setting off fresh pangs of shame. 'I can't lose him, you guys.' She manages with a sniff, through a throat squeezed tight with unshed tears. They Awww, and Oh, honey no, and come over to hug her. Arya lets them comfort her for a moment, as much for their sake as hers. But it's so suffocating. Being felt sorry for, so she gets up and clears her throat.

'I need a shower.' She wipes the sleeve of Sansa's borrowed cardigan under her nose and turns for the bathroom when her sister calls her back.

'You'll work it out, I know it. You two are-' She looks to Ygritte for the right words.

'That boy loves you.' Ygritte smiles fondly. 'We can all see it.' Deep down, Arya knows it's true, and that makes his reaction all the more upsetting.

'Hey, what did you mean by what you said before, "I think I won."?' She watches them smirk knowingly to one another, but it falls on Sansa to do the explaining, as Ygritte searches for something on her phone.

'Oh, um, well... we've had a little bet going for a while now. Whoever picks the closest date, without going over, wins.' She talks over her tea cup, gloating like a sly little red fox.

'You two?' Arya asks, amazed that they managed to keep it from her.

'All of us, chicky.' Ygritte grins like the cheshire cat, waving her phone like a prize. On closer inspection, Arya sees a list of names including Jon's, her brothers, Hot Pie, even her parents, all alongside dates ranging from months ago to a year from now. 'And I win. Pay up Sanz.'

Chapter Text

Pushing the beginnings of scrambled eggs around the pan, Gendry glances at his phone for the umpteenth time since texting Arya. Nothing. Adds some baby spinach to the pan at the last minute, then scrapes the lot onto his plate. I should ring her. He thinks, stealing another peak at his phone, willing it to do something.

The first few mouthfuls of his eggs are hard to swallow, his stomach still unsure whether it wants stuff to go in or come out, but he forces it down knowing he'll feel better, if only physically. Washing the last bite down with a mouthful of strong black coffee, Gendry grabs his phone and dials. It goes straight to her voicemail. He's silent for a few seconds after the beep and ends the call, because what the hell is he supposed to say? Her phone could just be flat, but he was fairly certain she was just avoiding him. The girl couldn't last five minutes without checking tumblr or something or other on her phone.

It's the not knowing that sets him pacing and rubbing at the tension in his neck. If she would just text him to let him know she's alright. Of course she's not alright, you idiot. She lied about going to see her professor, he knew that much. Arya had a poker face that card players would kill for, but she never could lie to him. She could look anyone else in the eye and lie through her teeth, but with him she always looked away. Not that he could blame her for wanting an excuse to leave this morning, God knows he could have handled things better.

I shouldn't have let her go. I should have gone after her. Countless other I should haves and shouldn't haves go through his mind as he scans the chaos that is his apartment. Beer bottles and upturned shot glasses litter every flat surface. Lime wedges, pizza boxes and crusts, couch cushions on the floor. Remnants of a time before everything turned to shit. A polaroid photo lays by the sink, pinned down by the salt shaker. He picks it up and shakes off the fine white granules, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Robb took this one when Arya arrived last night. Her hands cover his eyes and she's all smokey eyes and mischief over his shoulder. While he is one big grin, open and wide with laughter.

It joins the other photos on the fridge which mingle with the bills and butter-yellow post-it-notes. Hot Pie's in a couple of them, but mostly it's just Arya and himself. Dressed up ready for a few drinks at Bronn's. Dressed down at Wireless Festival. One that Jon had taken when he came over one morning, finding them curled up together, sound asleep on the couch. They copped a fair amount of teasing over that one. Raised by his uncle and aunt, Arya's parents, after his mum died giving birth to him, Jon was more like a big brother to her than a cousin.

Sure you were. Jon mocked as they explained that they'd fallen asleep marathoning the last season of The Walking Dead.

Empty bottles clatter and clink inside the black garbage bag that he sets down by the door. A small stack of more polaroids rest on the corner of the pool table and he takes a break from cleaning up to flick through them. Ygritte gripping Jon's face and kissing his cheek. The two girls flipping off the camera, an arm around each other and sticking out their tongues. A picture of Gendry at the pool table, lining up a shot as Arya watches him. Him, not the shot he's trying to make. He looks at that one for a while and can't deny the elevator dropping flip that his stomach does. Another one for the fridge, he decides turning to the last photo. Not sure what to make of it, Gendry turns it this way and that.

'What the fuck is it?' Some wiry orange hair and a...what, a walnut? Then it comes flooding back. Robb, drunk as a skunk grabbing Arya's camera, turning around away from everyone else and lining up the camera to his crotch as he drops his pants. Ygritte and Arya shielding their eyes from his whiter than white ass, squealing Ewww, Robb. No! He and Jon bent double in hysterics. With a laugh, Gendry pockets them and moves to set right the lounge room.

A black, lacy thing hangs from the corner of his flat screen, only noticeable against the black of the tv now that he is standing right in front of it. Arya's bra. Gendry feels like some kind of deviant when he picks it up, like he stole it from her underwear drawer or something. It's soft and feather light in his hands, and awakens another memory from last night.

-Arya lifts her top up, legs wrapped tightly around his waist where he has her propped up on the edge of the pool table. She twists and slips it over her head and off, kissing him again, frantically before her top even hits the table. Tilting her head back, Gendry nips and kisses slowly along her jaw line and down the side of her neck.

'Bedroom.' Arya's breath is warm on his ear, and doing as she says seems like damn good idea right now. She has a hand around his neck and the other in his hair as he carries her, still wrapped around him toward his room. Her hands let go for just long enough to undo and take off her black bra, and they kiss like they've been starving for each other.

Gendry bends, lowering her onto the bed, miscalculates in his drunken state and she flops down onto it from a greater height than he realised. They laugh and kiss again, gently this time as her hands slide beneath his shirt. They're warm on his skin, as she runs them slowly up to his chest, then around to his back and down again, exploring him as his hands and lips explore her. Then her hands trace along the waist of his jeans, meeting at the button that she soon has undone.-

'No, no, no, no!' Gendry tells the little daydream that ends much too soon. It was just getting to the really good bit.

The polaroid of Robb's hairy nut sack was definitely NOT going on the fridge. The rest did though. He leans against the kitchen bench, bra in one hand, phone in the other, looking at a dozen or more photos of Arya smiling, sleeping, and laughing. A dozen reasons to call her again.

"Hi. you've called Arya. You know what to do. BEEP."

'Hey Ar. It's me.' He begins, looking from one image of her to another. 'I just wanted to say that... that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the way I acted this morning, I panicked -not that that's an excuse, it's not. What happened last night, I just...I just don't want you to think that I regret it, because I don't and-' He forces down the lump in his throat and the rest of his words come out raspy and quiet. '-God, I wish you were here right now.' A knock at the door interrupts him. 'Arya?' He calls out, before hanging up. Running for the front door, he nearly trips over his own feet. But it's not Arya leaning casually against the wall inside the hallway, It's Jon.

'Morning Gendry.' His friend sing-songs with a curious tilt of his head. There is an amused look in those familiar grey eyes that has the hairs on the back of Gendry's neck standing on end.

'Uh, morning...Jon.' He takes his bra filled hand from the doorframe and slips it behind his back. A move that doesn't go unnoticed. Jon raises an eyebrow and kicks off the wall to stand eye to eye, and though Gendry has at least four inches on Jon, he feels about two foot shorter under the man's knowing stare.

'So. Can I come in.'

Chapter Text

The water rains down in a soothing stream as hot as she can bare it, the steady rhythm beating loudly against the enamel tub. Arya stands, head bowed beneath the large old shower head long after the suds of shampoo and conditioner have disappeared down the drain, seeking respite from thoughts and questions that would not be washed away so easily. The what's and why's and where do we go from here? chase their tails on an endless circuit, with no answers to throw at them.

Turning to let the water run down her back, Arya wipes her hands down her face and opens her eyes. The tiny bathroom of Sansa's ground floor apartment is pristine with its neatly folded hand towels and dainty bottles of perfume lined up along the vanity. Without even a smear of toothpaste or spittle on the mirror Arya's puddled clothing on the floor are like an angry ink blot on a fresh sheet of paper.

She turns off the taps, squeezes the water from her hair, and steps out onto the soft rose bathmat, splattering water all around it. Righting the overturned shampoo bottle, a trail of its contents pooling at the bottom of the tub, Arya grimaces at yet another mess she's made. With one towel wrapped around her, she uses another to first dry her hair then to wipe away every trace that she's been there, making the room perfect like it was before.

Maybe Gendry and I can just agree to forget that last night even happened, and everything can go back to the way it was. Even before finishing that thought she knew it was a lie. Their relationship would never be the same and she didn't want it to be. Foregoing underwear, Arya pulls back on her jeans that were still socially acceptable to wear once or twice more before ever seeing a laundry basket. Where did my bra end up? She lifts up her mum's favourite t-shirt, hers since she rescued it from the trash pile. Sentimental or not, Cat had declared it unwearable once moths had eaten at it in places. "That only makes it better." Arya had claimed, plucking it up to go cut off the sleeves and make it her own. She wouldn't be wearing it again today, she needed to raid her sister's wardrobe.

'Hey, Sanz? Can I borrow a shirt?' Arya asks, coming out of the bathroom with her towel and dirty laundry pressed to her chest.

'Sure, hun.' Both women were gathered by the lounge room window, keenly interested in the goings on outside. 'Feeling any better?'

Arya disappears into Sansa's room with a hum and a shrug before calling out.

'What's going on out there? You two look like a pair of nosy old ladies, snooping on the neighbourhood.'

'New people are moving into the apartment next door.'

'So?' Arya asks, picking out the one plain tank top that Sansa seems to own among all her frilly, strappy and fussy things.

'So they're hot. And your sister's been in her self induced drought long enough.'

'Shhh! They might hear you.' Sansa cried, cheeks and neck going visibly red even from the doorway as Arya came back in to look for her phone. Maybe he's sent me another text. Her mind is already made up as she switches it back on, no matter what he had to say, or what this weird trip he was on over the whole thing - they'd work it out. This wouldn't break them and there would be no pretending that it never happened. Arya knew how she felt about him and she was damn sure he felt the same.

Tapping her foot she mentally practices her speech, waiting for the stupid phone to wake up.

'Ooh, the blonde one's back.' Sansa coos.

'I thought you liked the one with the limp better.'

'I don't like either of them, I'm just looking. Besides, I think that pretty girl is dating him. She's all over him, look.'

'She's just helping him- oh, hey! Is that Gendry?'

'I think so-'

Arya's ears prick at his name and she looks up from the notification from the man in question, just in time to see the two girls clap their hands over their mouths. It would have been comical if she wasn't so concerned.

'Gendry's here?' Ignoring the wary looks they give her, Arya walks over to see what they saw.

Gendry's back faces her from where he stands by the moving van on the street. He is kissing someone.

He's dressed in new clothes. He never wore expensive looking stuff like that around her. The blonde's hands gripping his ass as they kissed. With two fiery red heads as her back up, Arya marches out to the front of the complex to confront him.

'GENDRY?!'

Breaking away from the guy he was kissing, Gendry searches the streets either side of him before turning to look in the direction her voice had come from.

'Arya?'

'Renly!' Oh, thank God. She puts a hand to her chest, and braces the other on her knee as she bends to let her blood simmer and her head catch up. It was Gendry's uncle, Renly. They'd met once or twice before at Christmas. And at only seven years older than Gendry, he seemed more like a cousin than uncle.

'Is Gendry here? We could use another pair of hands.' Renly looks around again.

'No. He's not.'

'Oh. I thought you called him- aren't you two like, joined at the hip usually?'

One loud blast of laughter bursts from Ygritte. The now sheepish looking ginger girl is pressing her lips together tight to stop herself from giggling, and waves dismissively.

'What's going on?' A pretty doe eyed young women with chestnut curls comes out of the apartment. An equally pretty guy with hair shorter but of a similar shade, coming out with her, his hand on her arm.

'Uh, well.' Renly takes it upon himself to make the introductions. 'This is my boyfriend, Loras.' The modelesque blonde he'd been kissing gives a bored wave. 'And his brother and sister. Willas and Margaery.'

Ygritte's jab at Sansa's ribs didn't go unnoticed by Arya, neither did her stage whisper of She's just his sister.

'We're helping Willas move in.' Renly finished.

'Oh? I guess that makes us neighbours then.' Sansa smiles brightly at the pretty boy, who now makes his way over to her with a slight limp and his hand outstretched, beaming just as brightly. Watching the sickeningly cute show unfold makes Arya smile her own little relieved smile. It's been too long since she saw her sister look that way.

'Are you hurt?' Sansa asks, shaking his hand gracefully, slow to let it go.

'He's only been out of hospital for a week. Nearly lost his leg in a car wreck.' The girl, Margaery, informs her, butting in on the man's own explanation.

'No big thing really, but I do have enough nuts and bolts in my leg now to open up a hardware store.' He laughs with Sansa at his own lame joke then tells her that's why he picked the apartment next to hers. The surgeons had saved his leg, but walking for long periods or going up flights of stairs were going to be a lifelong problem. 'Ground floor apartments are few and far between. I guess I got lucky.' The smitten look he gives Sansa with those last few words send Arya's eyes rolling. She takes out her phone, forgotten in the moment, and taps at the screen to listen to Gendry's message.

'So?' Ygritte asks when the message ends. Arya gazes down at her phone with a look that would put that Willas guy's efforts to shame. 'Everything okay then?' Her friend gives her a hopeful smile and tilt of the head.

'It's going to be.'

'That's what I like to hear. Now, what do you think about what's going on over there?' They watch as Sansa chirps away excitedly to her new neighbour and his sister, both transfixed on her knowledge of all the wonderful things this part of town has to offer. Arya decides to leave them to it. There was somewhere very important she needed to be. One last look at Willas and Sansa gives her an idea before she goes.

'That bet you made.' She side eyes Ygritte and nods toward the scene in front of them. 'Care to make another? Twenty bucks on Sansa and her new friend by the end of the month.'

Ygritte considers, watches as Margaery tucks a loose red strand behind Sansa's ear, admiring her.

'You're on. But which one?'

Arya was beginning to see what she was getting at as the girl gushes at Sansa's offer of a cup of tea.

'Oh, aren't you lovely. So, do you live her alone then? No boyfriend or...girlfriend?' She takes Sansa's arm, leaving her brother to manage the one step by the entryway himself.

'Rock, paper, scissors?' Arya raises a brow.

'Deal.'

And they each pound a hand on their palm three times.

Chapter Text

'You already knew, you bastard!' Gendry could kill him. He'd been sweating this whole time. Waiting for Jon to punch him in the face as he came clean with his feelings about Arya and what had happened. Instead, his so called friend had burst out laughing, unable to continue with the charade as Gendry babbled apologetically, we couldn't help it. 'Did Arya tell you?'

'No, Ygritte did.'

'Ygritte?'

'Yeah, Arya's with her over at Sansa's for that breakfast thing they do every Saturday.'

That's why she lied about meeting her professor. She knew he'd try to talk her into staying if she said she was only going to her sister's. Had he not been hung over and the pair of them naked, he might have remembered that the girls did that every week.

'You cost me twenty bucks by the way.'

'Huh?'

'Never mind.' Jon stands up from the couch still grinning as if the whole thing was hilarious and not the disaster Gendry knew it to be. She still hadn't returned his call and it was well after midday, hours since she skipped out. 'I actually came over for Robb's jacket. He's as green as you looked a moment ago, and still in bed. His keys and wallet and everything are in it, and I'm about to go catch up with Ygritte,-' Jon looked around and spotted it on one of the bar stools by the kitchen. '- so I told him I'd get it for him. Ygritte texted me about you and Arya just as I got to your door.'

That reminded Gendry.

'Here.' He said fishing out the polaroid from his pocket. 'Give him this.'

'What is it?' Jon turned the picture. 'Is that- Uggh! That cannot be unseen.' Jon made a face, tucking the incriminating photo into Robb's jacket pocket for him to find later. 'You should have seen you face. Man, I had you going for a bit.'

'Had me going? I was waiting for you to cave my face in.' Gendry ran his hands through his hair, in disbelief. 'I know she's like a little sister to you.'

'Had it been any other guy, I would have.' Jon told him. Gendry didn't doubt it for a second. 'But, she wouldn't have anyone else, Gen. A blind man could see that. Took you two long enough though.'

It warmed Gendry's heart to hear Jon's words, but what he needed right now, was to be able to tell Arya. To tell her how he felt and fix this mess that he had made.

'You said Arya is at Sansa's, yeah?' Jon was headed for the door when Gendry stopped him.

'Well, she was, I guess she might still be there.'

Going to his room for some shoes, Gendry calls out.

'I can't just keep waiting around for her to answer the phone. I'm going to go and find her.'

'Uh, Gen?'

'Yeah?'

'You have a visitor.' Her name was spelled out in the tone of Jon's voice. Leaving his room, pulling the door closed behind him, Gendry finds Arya standing just inside the front door. Mussing up her damp hair, Jon earns a half hearted slap to his belly. 'Oof! I was just heading off anyway.' He says, stepping aside so Arya could come in. 'Now you two kiss and make up.' Arya shut the door on him. Even while frowning and pretending to be annoyed at Jon, she looked beautiful. Beautiful... and expectant. Rocking back on her heels, lips pinched and eyes roaming everywhere and nowhere, Arya waited for him to break the uncomfortable silence.

'Do you um, want a drink? Water or...a coffee?' He rubbed the back of his neck and took a few stalling steps toward the kitchen.

'Sure. Um, no, actually.' She set her bag down onto a bar stool and faced him crossing her arms. Uncrossed them just as quickly, deciding to tuck them into the back pockets of her jeans instead. 'I listened to your message.' She watches him, hope and anticipation written all over her face, but Gendry can't find the words and it's suddenly all too much like it had been that morning.

Say something to her.

'I-' He begins, walking toward her to close the space between them, wanting to find the words that would make everything alright again. She worries her lip and lowers her eyes.

'You said that you don't regret it.'

'And I don't.' Gendry puts his hands on her shoulders, slides them down her arms and bends to make her look at him. 'I don't, Arya. Please don't think that. I just...regret that it happened that way.'

'But it did. So where does that leave us now? Because I can't go back to being just friends with you. Is that what you want, Gendry?'

'God, no.' His words are an exhale. The idea of going back to being just friends is painful to the point of being unimaginable. 'I'm crazy about you, Arya.' He lifts her chin as he speaks and her eyes drift closed as if to savour his words. A smile is budding on her lips, and his heart gives a leap. 'I've been crazy about you for...well, forever really-' She laughs at this and lifts a hand to the one he now has cupping her cheek. It's a joy to see this side of her; happy, soft and unguarded. '- and I think, maybe...you're just a little crazy about me too?'

Arya looks out the corner of her eye in mock contemplation.

'Maybe a little.' She answers, coyly.

'Yeah?'

'Okay. Maybe a lot.' She amends, to his absolute delight. He soaks in it and just looks at her, his thumb tracing her cheek, memorizing this exact moment.

'I've imagined what it would be like, you and me together. So many different times and different ways-'

'You've imagined us having sex?' And there she is. The smartass, teasing Arya that he knows and loves.

'You know that's not what I meant but, yes, I've thought about that so many different times and ways too.' He teases her right back and she shoves him with a bite of her lip and a blush that tells him she's somewhat embarrassed. Which he finds endearing as hell. 'As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted-' She presses her hands and face to his chest at him chiding her, and looks up with a playful scowl. '-I've thought about how you and I would someday end up together. How I'd say all the right things, or just kiss you out of the blue and you'd kiss me back.'

'I don't know. I kinda like how this way is turning out so far.' She takes his hand and turns, pulling him around with her as she starts stepping back slowly.

'Yeah?'

'Mmm hmmm. Hey, Gendry? What time is it?'

'I don't know, one o'clock? Why? You don't have another appointment do you?' As he follows her lead, he can't help but notice that she is leading them to his bedroom.

'No, nowhere else I have to be. By my calculations, we have about forty-three hours before either of us have to be anywhere else, right?'

'I'll take your word for it. You know I was never any good at math.' They stop just outside his bedroom door.

'But, you did say you've thought about it. So many different ways. So many different times.'

He had no words. Just a goofy grin and a nod as she turned the door handle behind her.

'Show me.'