Chapter Text

Brienne never planned on being a mother. Not for any particular reason, it simply never occurred to her that it would be part of her life. She had a career she loved, a few select friends that meant the world to her, and the occasional date that, at the very least, scratched an itch.

Then Podrick came into her life like a whirlwind.

She found herself, at twenty-six years old, trying to muddle her way through parenting a four-year-old child who lost his entire family in one fell swoop. He was a quiet kid, reserved, with big brown eyes that looked at her warily.

She didn’t blame him.

She was a cousin he barely knew. He’d only seen her at the larger family gatherings around Thanksgiving or Easter, and then, only as yet another much older relative who had no reason to interact with him. Pod was one of those surprise, oops babies when his parents had assumed their child-rearing years were over. Other than that, their family consisted mainly of people Brienne’s father’s age and older, except for some truly distant cousins no one knew.

So, now she was a parent, and she had never felt more inept at anything in her life.

--

Whatever she expected from Pod’s preschool teacher, it certainly wasn’t a thirty-something man, scruffy, hair just shaggy enough to brush the color of his green Oxford shirt, and a grin that was truly heart-stopping. She watched as he smiled and squatted down to greet each of the kids as they arrived, holding up his hand for high-fives as they dutifully strolled into the classroom.

Most of the parents simply dropped their kids off with a hug or a hair ruffle. But Brienne couldn’t help but linger, worried for some reason she couldn’t quite put into words. She squatted herself, looking Pod directly in the eye.

“Are you ready to go in?” she asked, carding a hand through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead.

“Yes.” The answer was quiet but certain.

Pod walked over and slapped his hand against the teacher’s. The man leaned in and gently asked, “You okay, bud?”

Pod nodded vigorously, not quite meeting the teacher’s eyes. The man finally seemed to notice her hovering. His smile broadened, as his eyes traveled from her feet all the way to her face. It wasn’t exactly a quick journey and the expression on his face unnerved her.

“Who’s this?” he asked Pod.

 Pod’s little face turned up to Brienne, a small smile finally curving his mouth.

“This is my B.”

The sweet, open look on Pod’s face was enough to put a lump in her throat.

“Your B?”

 Pod merely nodded in agreement.

“Bye, B.” Pod waved at her and slipped past his teacher into the classroom.

The man finally stood up, wincing slightly as he straightened his knees.

 “His B?”

Brienne flushed, both at his amusement and his proximity. A preschool teacher had no right to be so … sexy. It was just wrong. And not fair.

“He has trouble with my name.” He raised his eyebrows at her, waiting for her to supply it. If possible, she flushed even brighter. She hadn’t been this tongue-tied around a man in years. “Brienne.”

“Well, Brienne, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand. She took it, her pulse thumping even harder at the rough scratch of calluses. They were not at all the hands of a teacher. She found herself impossibly intrigued, her brain flashing through a million scenarios from carpentry to playing a guitar, each one more inappropriately arousing than the last. “I’m Jaime.”

When she dumbly continued to hold his hand, his smile turned into a smirk, his eyes twinkling. She jerked her hand away, barely resisting the urge to wipe it nervously against her jeans.

He looked back into the classroom before turning back to her. “I’ll keep an eye on him. The school will give you a call immediately if we think he needs to leave. It can be a lot for the little ones. Grief is hard when you’re old enough to understand what’s happening, for kids it’s nearly impossible.”

“Thank you.” She meant it, so grateful in that moment she was tempted to hug him. But oh, that would be a terrible idea. There was a real chance she would melt into the floor if she had to smell him and feel the press of his firm body against hers. It would be … unseemly. And mortifying.

--

Pod adored Mr. Jaime. He talked about little else in the following weeks. Mr. Jaime did this, Mr. Jaime did that. Mr. Jaime was so funny. Mr. Jaime read the best stories. Brienne was a little sick of hearing about Mr. Jaime. It was bad enough that she couldn’t seem to control the flow of blood to her face (and, if she’s honest, to other parts of her body) every time she dropped off or picked up Pod. That she survived to the first parent-teacher conference without humiliating herself was a damned miracle.

Still, she was unprepared to walk into the classroom and find him bent over a sheet of notes, his hair falling over his forehead, and -- gods, a pair of glasses perched on his nose. Truly, the gods were cruel masters.

Jaime looked up and quickly stood when she walked into the room, gesturing to the chair across from him.

“It’s good to see you again.” Jaime’s voice was husky, a warmth to it that settled low in her stomach. Brienne folded herself into one of the chairs, the only consolation that Jaime also looked uncomfortable with how close to the ground they were. “I feel like my knees are in my armpits in these chairs. Great for kids, terrible for these adults.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Brienne said. She cringed as she felt the blush creeping up her neck.

It wouldn’t be so bad if she blushed prettily, a soft flush along her cheeks like Sansa or Margaery. But no, as in all things, Brienne flushed awkwardly in splotches that resembled hives more than anything else. It also wouldn’t be as bad if she could unknot her tongue around this man. She had never experienced that swooping, light-headed sensation at the mere sight of a smile. The way the lines around his eyes crinkled more the broader he smiled helped exactly nothing about the situation.

“Well,” Jaime said, finally breaking the silence that dragged on. “You’ll be happy to know that Pod is a great kid. He’s very kind to other children and eager to learn anything and everything.”

Brienne smiled at that, relief sweeping through her in a tidal wave. “Thank the Gods.”

Jaime chuckled at that before becoming serious.

“I only have one concern,” he said it gently, as if knowing the anxiety would immediately screech past the relief. “It’s nothing too serious. Please, don’t panic. And don’t lie, I’ve seen that look on enough faces to know what you’re thinking. Pod’s … reserved. Sometimes it looks like he’s in his own head and it never looks like a happy place to be. Has he been in any sort of therapy?”

“He sees a child psychologist who specializes in trauma.” Brienne twisted her hands together on the table, looking down at her white knuckles and knotted fingers. “I’ve tried to be there for him, but I don’t want to upset him more or force him to talk before he’s ready.”

“Those are good instincts,” Jaime reassured her. He set his warm hand on top of hers, tan against her pale skin. He rubbed his thumb against the thin skin. It shouldn’t have felt like a bolt of lightning to her nerve-endings, and yet. “I’m glad to hear he’s in therapy. It’ll take time. It’s part of my job to make sure the kids are getting the proper support for anything I see that could be a problem. I see a lot of kids, and trust me, you’re doing a great job with him. He really can’t stop talking about you.”

Brienne looked up from where his hand still rested on hers, thumb stroking over her knuckles. If he was trying to calm her nerves, he was doing the exact opposite.

“I’m pretty sure he thinks his ‘B’ is the coolest person in the world.” Jaime smiled at her, wide and shining and tempting.

“Oh, I doubt that.” Brienne couldn’t help the sardonic tone in her voice. “The only thing I’ve heard for weeks now is ‘Mr. Jaime is so funny. Mr. Jaime reads the best books. Mr. Jaime sings the best songs.’ You’re kind of his superhero.”

The pleased look that softened his features couldn’t be faked. He looked almost bashful as he glanced back at his notes.

“Other than that one thing, there’s not much to say.” Jaime made a show of flipping through his notes, but Brienne would bet that he wasn’t reading a word of them. “He’s a bit shy, but that’s not unusual, and it’s not to an extent that I’m worried. He gets along well with the other kids, respects authority, does all of his work without complaint. If I had to pick three words for Pod: kind, helpful, and a hard-worker.”

“Is there anything I could be doing more of at home? Things I could help him with? I don’t want him to --”

“Brienne,” Jaime said kindly. He squeezed her hand and it was only then that she realized he’d never let go. Startled, she looked down at where his hand was clasping hers. “You’re doing everything anyone could ask. You were put in an impossible situation and you’ve managed it as well as anyone. Keep an eye on him, make sure he knows he can talk to you, and be patient. But I’m pretty sure you’re already doing all of those.”

Brienne’s eyes flooded with tears, much to her vast embarrassment.

“Thank you,” she whispered around the lump in her throat.

Jaime squeezed her hands one last time. When he finally let go, it wasn’t all at once, but a soft slide of his hand away from hers, slowly from his palm all the way to the tips of his fingers.

When Brienne finally stood up from the chair, her legs wobbled beneath her. She had a sinking feeling it wasn’t just from being folded up in a chair meant for children.

--

Brienne took Pod to the park every Saturday. It was good for him to play with other kids, to run off some of that 4-year-old energy. It also gave Brienne a chance to sit in the sunlight and enjoy the breeze. She could watch him and shut out her racing thoughts and all of the suffocating worries that permeated her days. Between her work at the precinct, giving her a terrible insight into the depths of human depravity, and the never-ending worry that she would somehow screw-up with Pod ... well. Brienne needed a break, and the soft laughter of children and leaves rustling in the breeze was like a sort of meditation.

That all came to a screeching halt on a Saturday in March. Brienne had just sent Pod to go play on the jungle gym when someone sat next to her. She glanced up, her heart catching in her chest before setting up a thrumming, frantic rhythm.

If Jaime was handsome in his more formal work clothes, then Jaime in worn denim and a faded t-shirt that looked as soft as butter was devastating .

“What are you doing here?” Brienne asked him, abrupt and ruder than she intended. The mere shock of seeing him looking so -- and with the familiar glasses and a decidedly unfamiliar beanie pushed over his hair -- well, it was a lot to take in. Especially, when he was invading her quiet space.

He frowned at her tone and gestured toward the swing-set.  

“The small blonde girl is my niece, Myrcella.” When Brienne looked, there was no denying the family resemblance. “The boy with her is my nephew, Tommen.”

“Oh Gods.” Brienne buried her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry.”

Jaime chuckled softly and she lifted her beet-red face to find him smiling at her softly.

“I didn’t mean to be so rude. I was just surprised,” she explained. “I’ve never seen you here before and I bring Pod every week and --”

“You’re fine,” Jaime interrupted.

The silence they lapsed into, each watching their own charges, was somehow easy and, yet, entirely unnerving for Brienne. His presence at her side, the warmth of his body so near her own, made her feel like a teenager with a crush all over again. That singing, nervous energy dancing down her spine, the feeling that if she touched him, she would be shocked like a bolt of lightning was all too familiar.

It was truly ridiculous. Men like Jaime weren’t interested in women like Brienne. Brienne knew she was far from hideous, but she was tall and awkward and far from a true beauty. Jaime looked like someone asked the gods what man should look like and they spat him out. He was like some half-god whose mortality was a mere twist of fate. Not to mention that most men didn’t want a woman taller than them in bare feet, someone who would virtually tower over them when heels were introduced into the equation.

“Pod’s seemed happier lately,” Jaime finally broke the silence for her.

“Yeah. His therapist said he’s finally talking about his family again. Not much, but it’s a start. She thinks it’s a good sign.”

Jaime hummed in acknowledgement. “He’s been happier at school, too. More willing to join in with the other kids’ games instead of hovering around the edges.”

“That’s great.” Brienne smiled over at Jaime only to find him already looking at her. Her smile faltered, confusion creeping in at the look she found there.

“Has anyone ever told you how blue your eyes are?” Brienne stared at him, her lips parted on a gasping breath. “Astonishing, really.”

Jaime’s tone sounded far away, almost as if he were talking to himself more than her.

Brienne was so startled she was sure she couldn’t find the words to respond to that if she had a thousand years. Thankfully, she was saved by a blur of blonde hair and tan skin barreling into Jaime’s stomach.

“Oof. Careful, Myrcella.”

The small blonde girl grinned up at him, all golden curls and bright green eyes.

“Uncle Jaime, can we get ice cream?” Before Jaime could respond, Myrcella’s face shifted into an expression so pathetic -- all sad puppy eyes and jutting lower lip -- that Brienne couldn’t help but laugh. Myrcella’s eyes turned toward her, narrowed and so suspicious Brienne had to surpress another laugh. “Who are you ?”

“Myrcella.” Jaime’s tone left no room for argument. Myrcella’s face softened, knowing all too well what that tone meant. “This is Brienne. You need to apologize to her for being so rude.”

“I’m sorry, Brienne.” Myrcella seemed contrite for all of five seconds before turning back to Jaime. “Can we please, please, please have ice cream?”

Jaime looked at Brienne ruefully, rolling his eyes as if to say, ‘ kids, am I right? ’

“You and Tommen can share a cup.” Jaime relented with a sigh. “Go tell your brother it’s time to go, otherwise it’ll be too close to supper time.”

Myrcella clasped her hands in front of her, squealing and giving a happy skip before tearing across the grass to get her brother.

“I know I shouldn’t,” Jamie said, as if he had to explain himself to Brienne of all people. “But since their mom -- it’s hard to say no to them over the little things.”

Brienne’s curiosity was piqued to say the least. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what happened to their mother, if it was similar to what happened to Pod’s family, or something else. But Myrcella was apparently an efficient child and showed up dragging her younger brother by his hand.

“We’re ready!” Where Myrcella was all bubbly enthusiasm, Tommen was shy and quiet, half hiding behind his sister and eyeing Brienne warily. Myrcella tugged on Jaime’s hand. “Come on , Uncle Jaime.”

“Patience.”

It sounded like something Myrcella had to be reminded of frequently.

Jaime stood from the bench, leaning to pick up Tommen as he went and letting the boy tuck into his neck. If he was good-looking before, standing there rubbing soothing circles on the boy’s back, he was breathtaking. Almost literally.

“We should do this again,” Jaime said, reaching for Myrcella’s hand with the same hand that had just been rubbing Tommen’s back. “On purpose this time.” Brienne nodded, her tongue feeling thick in her mouth. “Myrcella could use some more friends to play with around here.”

“She would probably force Pod out his shell.” Brienne couldn’t help but smile at the girl where she stood impatiently shifting from foot to foot, bouncing up and down.

“If anyone could, it would be Myrcella.” Jaime smiled down at her, long enough that Brienne could feel her cheeks turning pink again. Myrcella groaned, the limits of her patience tested almost to their breaking point. “Okay, okay,” Jaime said to Myrcella. “Tell Brienne bye and we’ll go.”

“Bye Brienne!” Myrcella practically shouted at her. “It was nice to meet you!”

Jaime rolled his eyes and turned to leave, Myrcella skipping happily beside him.

He was only a few steps away when he turned back to find Brienne still watching him.

“It was good to see you again.” He smiled softly and Brienne felt her heart almost thump out of her chest.

Brienne lifted her hand to wave goodbye. Jaime gave her a half nod before leading the kids away.

Brienne. Was. Screwed.

Chapter Text

“How are things going with Podrick?” Sansa asked, taking a healthy sip of mimosa.

“Well.” Brienne pushed a bite of egg around the hollandaise sauce. “Surprisingly well.”

Brienne had a standing brunch date with Margaery and Sansa for every other Sunday. Luckily, her dad was perfectly willing to take Pod on those Sundays so she could keep at least some of her old routine. She didn’t quite understand why Sansa and Margaery liked her or kept her around as a friend. Where they were both beautiful and delicate, all pretty laughs and delicate bones, she brayed like a donkey and had the shoulders of a linebacker. Where they had fulfilling love lives and nice careers, Brienne was perpetually single and dealt with violent criminals every day. Where they were witty and great at interesting small talk, Brienne was dull and would rather dive head first into battery acid than schmooze with anyone.

They made for a confusing trio.

“Brienne?” Brienne looked up at the tone in Margaery’s voice, furrowing her own brow at the delicate wrinkle between Margaery’s. “You seem distracted today.”

“It’s nothing.”

Brienne shifted awkwardly in her chair. She would love to be able to say she was distracted by something at work, or concerned about Pod. But no. Brienne Tarth, professional adult, was lost in thoughts of a certain preschool teaching, bearded, sharp-jawed Adonis. The mere fact that her thoughts waxed so poetic about him only added to the humiliation.

Both Sansa and Margaery raised their eyebrows at that, twin knowing smirks gracing their cupid’s bow mouths. Brienne cringed, waiting for the barrage.

Then, as if summoned by the Stranger himself, the bell over the entrance dinged and in walked the man that had plagued Brienne’s every wayward thought. Her gaze tracked him as he walked to the counter, leaning on his hands and smiling at the cashier. Brienne watched as she flushed, prettily, of course. So distracted was she by the look of his biceps flexing beneath the sleeves of his white t-shirt, she missed Margaery and Sansa both turning to find the object of her fascination.

They both whipped around to face Brienne again, smirks widened into actual grins.

“Who’s that?” Margaery asked, an evil, evil glint in her eyes.

“Dunno.”

Brienne couldn’t meet their faces if she had a gun held on her. And she’d had guns held on her before.

“Oh, come off it.” This time, it was Sansa weighing in. “You never look at random men that way. Granted, he is … impressive.”

“He’s --” Brienne was about to say ‘no one’ when, across the diner like an alarm bell --

“Brienne!” The voice was all too familiar, cheerful and warm, and immediately sent that horrible splotchy flush down her neck, across her chest.

Sansa and Margaery looked positively gleeful.

Jaime reached their table and smiled at her with all that radiant, astonishing beauty that made her pulse beat frantically.

“Hi, Jaime.” She mumbled, half-smiling back at him, half wanting to crawl under the table and die.

Margaery and Sansa both cleared their throats.

“Oh, right.” Brienne gestured between everyone in turn. “Sansa, Margaery, this is Jaime. He’s Pod’s teacher. Jaime, this is Sansa and that’s Margaery. They’re my oldest friends.”

There, done, everyone was introduced and now they could part ways having politely said hello. Jaime greeted each in turn, and some small piece of Brienne withered away, knowing how she looked next to the true blossoms that were her best friends.

But Jaime barely glanced at them before turning his attention back to her fully.

“It’s lucky we keep bumping into each other. I forgot to give you my number yesterday.” Jaime shifted the box of pastries under one arm and pulled his phone out of his back pocket. He unlocked it and handed it over to her. “Here, if put yours in and I’ll text you later so you have mine.”

Brienne took it from him wordlessly, thankful she didn’t fumble it into her barely touched eggs benedict. She punched her number into a new contact on his phone, desperately avoiding the list of other contacts, not even wanting to know how many other women’s names were in there -- even if it didn't matter. Even if she knew she was only a convenient nearby person with a kid about the same age as his niece that he already knew well. She labeled herself ‘Brienne (Pod’s B)’, in case there were several other Briennes or Briannes. Or… well.

“Great,” he said when she handed the phone back to him. He chuckled when he saw the contact name, but it wasn’t cruel or mocking, just a warm amusement. “Well,” he glanced between her and her friends, smiled almost bashfully, and finished, “it was good to see you. I’ll text you later to set-up a date.”

Once Jaime was safely outside, Margaery and Sansa both let out squeals almost high enough for only dogs to hear.

“You don’t know him?” Margaery actually clasped her hands in front of her chest.

“It’s not a date-date,” Brienne protested, knowing it would fall on deaf ears. “It’s a playdate.” The utter, mischievous delight on Margaery’s face deepened Brienne’s blush to an almost beet-red color. “For the kids. His niece is about Pod’s age and we met at the park yesterday and --”

Brienne stopped herself before she began truly babbling.

“Oh, please,” Sansa chimed in. “He was looking at you.”

“It’s generally polite to look at someone when speaking with them.”

“Don’t be obtuse. He was looking at you like you were a treat.”

Brienne couldn’t help but roll her eyes at that. It wasn’t that she thought her friends were teasing her, she knew them better than that. But the idea that someone like Jaime would be looking at her that way with two of the most beautiful women in all of King’s Landing right in front of him was laughable.

“He’s a very nice man who is grateful that there’s a kid he knows close enough for playdates.”

“Sure, Brienne.”

The disbelief in Sansa’s voice couldn’t help but kindle a small flame of hope within Brienne.

And yet.

--

Jaime did text her later that afternoon.

Hey! What are you doing next Saturday?

She debated whether or not to respond back immediately, and seem like she was desperately waiting by her phone, or just respond because she had her phone nearby and turned on and therefore saw his text when it came in, but then, she couldn’t remember if she had read receipts turned off on her phone and then he would know she’d read it but not responded for some reason and --

She texted him back.

We go to the park every Saturday

She’d barely sent it before the flashing three dots of perpetual anxiety popped up.

Cool can we meet you there Came not thirty seconds later.

Her heart pounded, as ridiculous as it was to thump so hard over a playdate.

Of course we’re usually there about 10:30

Pre nap post breakfast?

Yep

Great we’ll see you there

If her pulse thudded for several minutes after that … well, no one else was around to know.

--

“Hi Brienne!” Brienne turned her gaze away from where Pod was on playing on the slides to find Myrcella running toward her, pink flowered sundress flapping in the breeze.

Brienne smiled, waved, and then looking behind Myrcella to find Jaime smiling with Tommen in his arms. Her stomach swooped.

Brienne called out to Pod, who popped his little head over the top of the stairs up to the slide. He ran to her when she beckoned him, cheeks already flushed from playing. Myrcella finally reached her, still smiling like a little angel. Pod looked from her to the man behind her, a huge grin spreading across his face.

“Mr. Jaime!”

“Hey there, Pod,” Jaime said, shifting Tommen in his arms so he could ruffle Pod’s hair. “Having fun?”

Pod nodded vigorously.

“Pod,” Brienne said, to get his attention. Pod looked up at her and she put her hands around his little shoulders. “This is Mr. Jaime’s niece, Myrcella. Can you tell Myrcella hi?”

Pod, always bashful around strangers, waved and quietly greeted her. Myrcella, unencumbered by such shyness, said, “Hi Pod!” loud enough to wake the dead. Pod cast a glance up at Brienne, brown eyes wide with surprise.

Brienne startled when Jaime’s hearty laugh broke the brief exchange.

“You’ll have to forgive Myrcella, Pod. She’s excited.” If nothing else, Pod’s utter devotion to Jaime would’ve wiped away any lingering reservations.

“Do you think you and Myrcella could play together?” Brienne asked Pod gently, leaning in to speak quietly in case he needed a minute to think about it. Pod looked at Myrcella for a second, before looking back up at Brienne and nodding.

With that, Myrcella grabbed Pod by the hand and all but strong-armed him to the swingset, rambling about the gods only knew what on the way. Jaime took a seat next to Brienne on the bench, still holding Tommen close.

Brienne was surprised to see the boy was awake. He was so closely tucked into Jaime’s chest and neck. Brienne assumed he was asleep. Jaime stroked his hand over the boy’s white blond hair. “Can you say hello to Brienne, Tommen?”

Tommen shook his forehead against Jaime’s neck. Jaime gave Brienne a rueful smile.

“It’s okay, Tommen,” Brienne said directly to him. “You don’t have to say hi. I’m still glad to see you again.”

“Do you want to get down and play with Myrcella and Pod?” Tommen shook his head again, burrowing even closer to Jaime if possible. “He had a rough morning,” Jaime explained to Brienne, shifting Tommen so his weight was resting more on Jaime’s chest instead of his arms.

“I miss mama,” Tommen muttered.

“I know, buddy.” Jaime squeezed Tommen a little tighter, rubbing up and down his back.

The pain etched across Jaime’s features left Brienne wanting to reach out him. To do what, she didn’t know. Hug him, maybe. Smooth her hand across his forehead and massage the wrinkles of concern from it.

Brienne ducked her head to try and catch Tommen’s eye. “How old are you, Tommen?” she asked softly.

Tommen turned his head away from her. Jaime sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said to Brienne.

Brienne shook her head vehemently. “Don’t be sorry, it’s fine.”

Jaime looked at her for a long moment, his eyes searching hers for some sort of confirmation.

“He just turned two.” Jaime said, circling back to her question. “Most days we do okay, but he woke up from a bad dream asking for Cersei and obviously --”

“Yeah,” Brienne nodded. “Pod still has dreams, sometimes. It’s horrible and I feel so helpless. I can’t fix any of it.”

Jaime reached over and squeezed her hand. The contact was brief, only a squeeze and then the weight of his hand resting on hers for a beat. A touch of comfort between two people who were doing their best. A shared moment of the overwhelming responsibility of raising children with no preparation. Brienne’s hand tingled for far too long after his hand left hers.

“Pod told me about the dreams,” Jaime said, glancing over at her. “Well, he told me when he has bad dreams, you never send him back to his bed alone.” Brienne’s surprise that this was noteworthy must have shown on her face. “A little kindness goes a long way.”

Brienne had no idea how to respond to that. It lodged in her throat with all the warmth and worry and hope she seemed to feel in a constant whirlpool when it came to Pod.

“What else has he said about me?” she asked, trying to side-step that feeling.

Jaime laughed warmly.

“Let’s see…” His tone was warm and round, at odds with the gooseflesh it sent all over her body. “You’re great at pancakes, but bad at eggs.” Brienne felt the flush as it flooded her cheeks. “You tell really good stories about knights and dragons. You don’t know anything about cartoons. You play Go Fish every time he asks, as long as it isn’t bedtime.” Jaime looked her directly in the eye and the warmth there filled her chest until she felt like she might burst from it. “When you lift him over your head, he can touch the ceiling, and it feels like he could fly.”

For some reason, she couldn’t even put her finger on why, that made tears flood her eyes. She glanced away from Jaime, embarrassed about the show of emotion, and unable to process whatever emotion lurked in his gaze. She looked ahead to find Pod and Myrcella running full-tilt toward them. She scooped Pod up in her lap.

“You okay, B?” Pod’s face was creased with concern, his hair sticking to his temples with sweat. He pressed his little fingertips to her cheeks, right below her eyes.

Brienne forced a smile onto her face. “Of course. I had to sneeze.”

Brienne could hear Myrcella chattering away to Jaime, the girl seeming to have truly boundless amounts of energy. She caught up in time to hear Jaime say, “Not tonight.”

Myrcella’s face fell into the already familiar exaggerated pout.

“Myrcella.” Jaime’s tone was so paternally aggrieved it was hard not to smile. Myrcella’s eyes dropped and she sullenly toed at the gravel around the bench. “You can ask Brienne if they can do it later in the week, okay?”

Myrcella turned those big, green eyes on Brienne. Brienne truly wasn’t sure how Jaime managed to tell her no about anything.

“Can you come to our house for dinner?” Myrcella asked sweetly. Brienne had a sneaking suspicion it was a bit of an act, but she had to give it to the girl, she was talented if it was.

Brienne looked to Jaime, who shrugged. “We’re free most evenings.”

“Do you want to have dinner at Mr. Jaime’s?” Brienne asked Pod.

“Yes!” He nodded vigorously.

“Okay. Mr. Jaime and I will text each other and figure out a good day.” Brienne looked over at Jaime. He nodded in agreement.

“I’m hungry now,” Pod interrupted. Then he yawned.

Brienne knew from experience they were rapidly entering the territory of a very grumpy, difficult to deal with, exhausted kid.

“Let’s get home and get a snack and a nap, okay?” Pod nodded, already more languid than he was five minutes ago. Brienne knew she would be carrying him at least half the way back home.

“Bye, Myrcy,” Pod said. Brienne raised an eyebrow at Jaime at the nickname. He shrugged, it was clearly not something he’d heard before. “Bye, Mr. Jaime. Bye --” Pod looked to Brienne, a little sheepishly.

“Tommen,” Brienne told him quietly.

“Bye, Tommen,” Pod said with a little wave at the smaller boy.

Tommen peeked out long enough to say, “bye,” to Pod.

“I’ll text you,” Jaime said, after she’d risen from the bench.

It shouldn’t make her butterflies dance in her stomach. It was only a dinner at the request of the kids.

That was it.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three

Jaime answered the door wearing a grey sweater that looked so soft Brienne had to resist the urge to run her hands down his chest. Her eyes travelled back to his to find a soft smile on his lips, an amused quirk to one of his eyebrows. Brienne flushed, completely tongue-tied and embarrassed by her reaction to him.

“Hi, Mr. Jaime,” Pod chirped from her side.

Jaime crouched down to speak directly to Pod. It made Brienne’s heart thump every time he did that, the consideration he always showed Pod.

“Hey, Pod.” Jaime smiled at Pod and held his hand out for the customary high-five. “I forgot to ask your B. You like spaghetti, right?”

Pod grinned broadly. “Yes!”

“Good.” Jaime stood back up, and somehow even that was attractive. He stepped aside so they could enter the house.

Myrcella ran up behind Jaime, peeking around his legs. “Hi Pod! Come play!” She grabbed Pod’s hand and tugged him along. Brienne was certain she would have literally dragged him if he hadn’t run with her. Jaime watched them run away and when he turned back to Brienne, he had a smile on his face that made her blush hotter.

“I’m not quite done with the food yet, but would you like a glass of wine?” he asked as he walked away, glancing over his shoulder to make sure she was following him into the kitchen.

---

It took Myrcella approximately three seconds after the plates had been cleared away before she was looking up at Brienne with pleading eyes.

“Can Pod stay and play for a little while?” She tilted her head, her hands clasped sweetly in front her. She was the picture of innocence. “We didn’t get to finish our game before dinner.”

“Did you ask your uncle?” Mycella gave Brienne a slightly put-out look that Brienne had trouble not smiling at. “If he’s okay with it, we can stay a little longer.”

Myrcella skipped over to where Jaime was still trying to clean all of the tomato sauce off of Tommen and his highchair. Brienne watched as Myrcella pulled the same routine with Jaime, complete with the puppy-dog eyes. He asked her something and she nodded emphatically. He lifted an eyebrow at her and then walked over to Brienne.

“Did you say Pod could stay until bedtime?”

Brienne couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Myrcella had somehow managed to play a game of telephone with herself.

“Not exactly.” Jaime looked frustrated as he looked back at Myrcella, a look on his face that made it clear he knew she had fibbed. Brienne jumped in before he could say anything. “I did say we could stay a while longer as long as it’s okay with you.”

Jaime sighed, watching Myrcella talk excitedly to Pod.

“It’s fine,” Brienne said. “We don’t want to mess up your routine any more than we already have.”

“No, no, it’s not that.” Jaime had a tense look on his face as he spoke barely above a whisper. “She already knows to use the puppy eyes and her sweet voice, and stretches the truth just enough that -- it reminds me of her mom when we were kids.”

Brienne wanted to reach out, to place a comforting hand on his arm, something to wipe the sudden sadness off his face.

“Myrcella, come here,” Jaime said loud enough now for Myrcella to hear. She looked worried, her hands wringing together as she walked over to them. “Brienne didn’t say they could stay until bedtime, did you remember that?” Myrcella hesitated before nodding hesitantly. “Did you already tell Pod he was going to stay and play some more?” She nodded again, her eyebrows drawing together and lips tightening. “We talked about lying didn’t we?”

“Yes, sir,” Myrcella said softly.

“You can play tonight, because you already told Pod he could.” Myrcella smiled and bounced a little. He held up a finger to pause her. “But no cartoons this week. And next time, I won’t let them stay if you lie again.”

“Sorry,” Myrcella said, still meek and reserved. But the minute she turned around, she skipped over to Pod, grabbed his hand and dragged him toward her play room.

Jaime wiped a hand down his face and took a deep breath. He walked over and picked Tommen up, settling him on his hip. “Okay, buddy, time for your bath.”

“No!” Tommen tried to squirm out of his grip.

Jaime didn’t respond to Tommen, he simply turned to Brienne and said, “I’ll be back as soon as he’s down for the count. Just make yourself at home.”

He carried a still-protesting Tommen down the hallway and out of sight. Brienne looked around the place, awkward at having been left alone in an unfamiliar place. Jaime’s house was nice, on the small side, but well kept. He’d clearly cleaned before dinner, but there still toys strewn about the living room, shoved into corners and plastic bins in an attempt to keep the footpaths clear.

Brienne trailed her fingers along the stuffed bookshelves, novels crammed next to non-fiction. She was relieved to note that it wasn’t only World War II history books and James Patterson novels. She smiled and plucked out the collection of Keats’ poetry, making her way to the couch, a worn blue thing with a baby blanket spread across one arm and a container of wet wipes half-shoved under a pillow.

Brienne was lost in the book when Jaime reappeared, clearing his throat and startling her.

“Sorry.” He slumped down next to her on the couch, leaning his head against the cushion, eyes closed. “Just one of those nights he didn’t want to cooperate. He normally curls up and goes right to sleep after his bath.”

“It’s fine.” Brienne closed the book, turning toward Jaime and leaning her shoulder against the back of the couch. “I found a book to read.”

Brienne had barely finished her sentence when Jaime let out a yawn so large his jaw cracked. His exhaustion was evident even to Brienne, the dark smudges under his eyes telling the story as clearly as any words.

“We should go,” Brienne said, regretfully, maybe a little sadly. “You’re exhausted, and--”

“No no,” Jaime interrupted, opening his eyes to look at her. “I’m good.” When Brienne opened her mouth to protest, he cut her off. “Please, I could use some adult conversation. Most of my friends are -- were -- other thirty-something single men.” Jaime scrubbed his hands over his face. “They’re not exactly all about hanging out while I wrangle two kids, and I can’t go out drinking all night. It’s hard enough in the morning without a hangover to make it worse.”

“You don’t have anyone that could watch them for an evening?” Brienne asked. “You could at least get out of the house. My dad watches Pod when I need a break.”

“Trust me, the last person that should be watching the kids is my dad.” Jaime grimaced. “Except, maybe my brother. I love him, but he’s not the most reliable man in the world.”

“No babysitter?”

Jaime sighed, sadness layering over the exhaustion.

“Tommen’s having --” He looked up at the ceiling, searching for the right words. “It’s been a rough adjustment for him. I tried a babysitter a couple months ago. Tommen cried the entire time. The sitter finally called me in desperation after an hour, begging me to come home. He misses his mom and is too young to understand. It sucks that she understands at all, but at least Myrcella knows enough to get that she can’t see her mom right now.”

“Oh.” Brienne’s head spun a bit. “I assumed she -- that it was like with Pod’s parents.” Brienne cringed, cursing her social ineptitude. “They died in a car accident. But I guess you probably knew that from the school. Sorry, I should -- sorry, ” Brienne finished a bit helplessly, regretting even bringing up the topic, tongue-tied yet again. It was a small comfort that it wasn’t because of his face this time. A very small comfort.

“It’s okay.” Jaime paused, only making the mortification take root in her gut, an indecisive look on his face. Brienne was just about to tell him he didn’t have to share anything when he continued. “Their dad died about a year ago. A heart attack, not a car accident. But uh,” Jaime halted, swallowing heavily before pressing on, “my sister is in prison.”

The shock must have shown on Brienne’s face, because Jaime actually blushed slightly.

“You’ve probably heard about it,” Jaime said, something dry in his tone. “My sister was married to Robert Baratheon.”

Brienne blinked, her mind whirring as she finally put the pieces together. She doesn’t know how it escaped her before this, it’s been all over the news and papers. The largest embezzlement case in King’s Landing history, and --

“Your sister is Cersei Baratheon.”

It wasn’t really a question, but Jaime responded anyway. “Yep.” He popped the ‘p’ sound. “The one and only. I wish I could say I was surprised when the whole thing came out, but. . .”

Brienne knew enough to fill in the blanks, not only from discussions at work, but from glimpses of the news. Robert Baratheon had run one of the largest banking institutions in all of Westeros, not just King’s Landing. When he’d died of a sudden heart attack, his corporation went through an audit before it was sold off or handed over to someone else. That’s when it was discovered that Robert and his wife, Cersei Barathon (née Lannister), had been embezzling funds for years. Cersei’s lawyers, the very best money could buy, tried to argue that she was an innocent bystander, but her signature was all over the fraudulent filings and contracts. She ended up with a hefty prison sentence and a fine with more zeros involved than Brienne was ever likely to see in her own accounts.

“Gods,” Brienne murmured. “I’m sorry.”

Jaime shrugged.

“I’m just sorry for Tommen and Myrcella.” Jaime looked down at his hands, winding his fingers together until his knuckles turned white. “Myrcella knows her mom did something bad and has to go away, but how do you tell a kid that age her mom isn’t coming home for another ten to fifteen years? And Tommen -- I hate to say it, but it might be easier if Cersei were dead, at least then it would be final. Gods, I’m a terrible person. I just -- sometimes it feels impossible, you know?”

“I spend almost every night staring at my ceiling trying to figure out how badly I’m messing up.” Brienne smiled at him sadly.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Jaime looked genuinely aggrieved. “Of course I don’t wish Cersei was dead. I can’t believe I said that, especially to you.”

“No, I get it,” Brienne reassured him. “It’s -- it’s not easier, I don’t think. But at least it’s an answer. Pod’s old enough to understand they aren’t coming back. If they were alive somewhere and he just couldn’t see them -- I don’t know. I think it would be harder. Harder for him to accept me, anyway.”

“I’m glad we met.” Jaime smiled, a soft warm curve of his lips. “Maybe that sounds wrong, but at least I have someone that understands what it’s like to be an insta-parent to kids that barely know you. It’s not a club I wanted to join, but at least I’m not the only member anymore.”

“I’m glad, too.” Brienne looked away from him, the languid, contented set to his features making her pulse thrum and her nerves sing. “I really didn’t think I could do it for a while there.” She darted her eyes back to him, a rueful smile tilting her own mouth. “I’m still not sure I can, or that I am.”

Jaime reached out, settling his hand over her own where it rested on the couch. Even that small touch made Brienne’s heart leap into her throat, the warm weight of his palm against her skin enough to send a spark down her spine.

“I know I told you already, but you’re --” His eyes searched her own, some emotion she couldn’t read creating the slightest of furrows between his brows. “You’re amazing.”

Brienne’s breath caught in her throat, the flush rising to her cheeks, not from embarrassment but from the same feeling causing warmth to flood her chest and stomach. Jaime looked at her, gaze intent and heavy, and leaned toward her cautiously.

He was only inches away when a loud crash shattered the moment. They jerked apart, both of their heads whipping in the direction of the play room. Jaime ran immediately and Brienne took off after him.

Myrcella greeted them at the door of her room, a sweet smile on her face. “It’s fine”.

Jaime lifted an eyebrow at her. “What happened?”

Pod popped up behind her, grimacing slightly but not crying. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jaime,” he said, his whole demeanor apologetic. “I knocked over Myrcy’s castle. I didn’t mean to.”

At that, his eyes began to tear up and Brienne watched as Jaime’s face immediately transformed into that same tender, caring look he always seemed to have for Pod.

“It’s okay, Pod. Did you get hurt?”

Pod shook his head vigorously, then cringed. “I scratched my elbow, but it’s okay.” He tilted his arm so Jaime and Brienne could see the carpet burn on his arm.

“We should go,” Brienne said quietly to Jaime, her body still tense, tingling from the odd moment the kids interrupted. All she wanted was to be at home where she could finally take a deep breath and sort out the riot of feelings in her chest. “It’s past Pod’s bedtime.”

“Of course,” Jaime said, an apologetic look on his face. He turned back to the kids. “Brienne’s right, Myrcella. It’s past bedtime. I think you and Pod have had enough excitement for the evening.”

Myrcella looked like she wanted to protest, but something on Jaime’s face must have halted her. Her mouth turned down into a frown. “Bye, Pod.” She hugged him. “Sorry about your arm.”

“Sorry about your dollhouse,” Pod said. He took Brienne’s outstretched hand. “Bye, Mr. Jaime. I’m sorry I made a mess.”

“It’s okay, Pod.” Jaime set his hand on the crown of Pod’s head. “You weren’t the only one making a mess. You were just playing. I’ll see you in class on Monday, okay?”

Pod nodded, a small smile finally replacing the downtrodden look.

“I’m going to walk Pod and Brienne out,” Jaime told Myrcella. “Get your PJs on, okay?”

Myrcella nodded. “Bye, Brienne,” she said, more calmly than Brienne had ever heard her. “Thanks for letting Pod stay.”

“You’re welcome.” Brienne smiled at Myrcella and caught Jaime’s eye before leading Pod toward the door.

When they reached it, Brienne turned to face Jaime, the tension from before still faintly lingering in her gut. She hesitated. She should just say goodnight and leave, but there was some feeling she couldn’t quite get a handle on.

“We should … we should do this again sometime,” Jaime finally broke the silence.

“Yeah, of course.” Brienne nodded. The awkwardness was an almost physical thing. “I think the kids had fun. I -- I had a good time, too.”

“Me too.” Jaime smiled then, the same soft, fond grin that made Brienne feel like her skin was too small for her body. “I’ll text you. Or you could text me.”

“Sure,” Brienne said, reaching for the doorknob, desperate for fresh air and distance from whatever the hell was happening between her and Jaime. “I’ll see you around.”

“The park on Saturday?” Jaime asked.

“Sounds good.” Brienne nodded again. “Well, I should --” She jerked her thumb toward where her car was parked.

It was Jaime’s turn to nod.

For some reason, Brienne still hesitated, Jaime still looked at her, and for that moment, she didn’t even notice Pod’s hand still clasped in her own.

“Good night, Brienne,” Jaime finally murmured, the same expression on his face that he wore right before the kids interrupted them.

And oh, if that didn’t settle low and hot within her.

“Good night, Jaime.”

Brienne managed to get Pod into his car seat and herself buckled in before she looked up at Jaime’s house. He was still standing in the doorway, a look on his face she didn’t want to analyze. He lifted his hand and waved. She waved back. That simple interaction shouldn’t make her heart skip a beat, but when she finally started her car, her hands were trembling.

Chapter Text

Chapter Four

Brienne braced herself for the entire week leading up to their next park date. She hadn’t heard from Jaime except to make sure they were still on for Saturday morning, and she’d only seen him the days she’d picked Pod up from school. Jaime smiled her the same as always, but there was something in his face that made Brienne’s gut twist.

Then again, she could have been imagining it. It wasn’t as if he could make overtures at the school, in front of everyone. But, the memory of his face close to hers, the smell of him invading her senses until she couldn’t focus on anything else, the warmth of his hand on hers -- it was on a loop in her head every time she saw him.

He showed up on Saturday looking as he always did, worn jeans, an almost-too-tight t-shirt, and a smile on his face. Tommen was in a better mood this week and actually waved to her, mumbling, “Hi, B,” before wriggling out of Jaime’s arms and making a beeline for the slide. Myrcella took off for the sandbox where Pod was building a castle.

“I think he’s warming up to you after dinner.” Jaime nodded toward Tommen where he was trying to sit on the slide with the lack of grace befitting his age.

“That’s -- I’m glad.” Brienne grimaced at herself, at how damn awkward she was.

She opened her mouth to recover, but no words came to her.

“Brienne?” Her head snapped around, eyes going wide at who had called out.

Hyle Hunt. Possibly the last man on Earth she wanted to see. He jogged over to where she and Jaime were sitting, smiling the entire time like they were simply old friends.

“What are you doing here?” Hyle asked, wiping sweat off of his dripping forehead. He continued bouncing on his toes, keeping his muscles warm.

“I come here every Saturday.” Brienne’s voice was flat to her own ears.

“Huh,” Hyle said. “I’ve never seen you here. Guess I got a late start today.” She expected him to leave. She wanted him to leave. So of course he didn’t. “God, it’s been -- what? Two years now?”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

Hyle’s smile faltered slightly. His eyes flicked over to Jaime. “Hi, Hyle Hunt.” He held out his hand for Jaime to shake.

“Jaime Lannister,” Jaime took the sweaty hand and then not-so-subtly wiped his hands on his jeans.

They all went silent. Brienne could feel Jaime’s eyes on her. Hyle was looking between them like he was trying to figure out what sort of relationship she had with the incredibly attractive man next to her.

“Hey, I heard about your cousin,” Hyle said, finally breaking the silence. “I’m sorry.”

“How? How did you hear about my cousin?” Brienne knew she sounded some combination of baffled and angry, but she couldn’t imagine who the hell would be sharing personal information about her with Hyle of all people.

“I ran into Loras, I asked about you.” Hyle said it softly, like he actually cared.

It infuriated Brienne. They had no right. He had no right.

“Don’t.”

Hyle looked shocked, his mouth dropping open slightly.

“Don’t ask about me,” Brienne continued. She paused for a moment, gathering her composure. Hyle looked at her like he was offended. “You should go now.”

Hyle seemed like he wanted to say something else. Instead he nodded, turned, and jogged off without even a goodbye.

Brienne sat, clutching at the bench and taking deep breaths until the rage boiling in her calmed.

When she looked up finally, Jaime was staring at her warily.

“Who the hell was that?”

Brienne closed her eyes. She didn’t want to talk about it. She’d spent the last three years moving past it. Seeing him again -- it brought it all flooding back, the anger and hurt and disgust.

“My ex,” Brienne said after what was probably far too long of a pause. “I haven’t seen him in a few years.”

“The break-up was that bad?” Brienne looked at him to find something curious and -- and maybe upset in his expression.

“We were engaged.” Brienne couldn’t help but cringe. “He cheated. I found out. I ended it.”

“You never mentioned you were engaged,” he said, his eyes wide with surprise.

Whatever Brienne expected his reaction to be -- sympathy, maybe, or at least a ‘that sucks’ -- she hadn’t expected him to react like it was baffling that she’d been engaged. It stung, the disbelief. Of course. Of course Jaime would be surprised that she’d been engaged. Awkward, ugly, socially inept Brienne, engaged? It was outlandish from the outside looking in.

“Yeah.” She looked away from him, blinking rapidly, clearing away the burn that threatened tears. “You can see how it turned out for me.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaime finally said, his voice low with sympathy.

Brienne shrugged. “Thanks.” Her voice was still so flat, she couldn’t seem to make herself sound normal, couldn’t express the depth of what she was feeling.

She couldn’t bear to look at him again, to see the pity laced with confusion that she imagined he’d feel at the idea that a man as decent-looking as Hyle would propose to her in the first place. Her whole body was tense. If Pod wasn’t happily playing in the sand with Myrcella she would get up and walk away right now. Never look back, block his number, and damn him for bringing all those old hurts and aches to the surface.

She was an idiot. She had forgot for a brief moment in time how men viewed her: as a bro, a workout buddy, someone to ask about other girls. But not a partner. Not a beautiful woman they wanted. Oh, she had gone on her fair share of dates, with men who liked her well enough as a friend to give it a shot. But then they ghosted her, or she admitted to herself that she wasn’t attracted to them so much as to the idea of being wanted.

But Jaime -- she could admit it to herself, she wanted him. She wanted him and she’d let herself believe that the heavy moment between them had been something.

They had lapsed into an awkward silence. She didn’t want to speak, and he seemed to be at a loss for words. It was unbearable even for a few the few moments that she managed to hold on.

“I need to get Pod home,” she said, standing up stiffly, every muscle in her body tensed with the desire to run, but she made herself walk calmly away.

“Brienne,” Jaime called out to her, his voice helpless and confused. She could hear him jogging after her until he drew even with her. She didn’t stop until his hand wrapped around her forearm. She looked down at it before turning her eyes to his face. He looked so worried she almost felt guilty. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she insisted, gently pulling her arm out of his loose grip. She watched his hand flex in the empty space, a slight, regretful look in his eyes.

“What can I -- can I -- can I do something?” She had never seen him fumble around his words in that way. “You could tell me about it.” He must have seen the immediate urge to flee that sentence caused. His shoulders tensed up, his jaw tight as if he were frustrated. She had no idea if it was with her or himself, but she assumed the former. He took a deep breath, his voice more sure when he said, “Or we can drop it. I could tell you about the fingerpaint incident this week?”

She had to close her eyes again, shutting out his gentle expression and kind eyes. She opened her eyes again to find him unchanged.

“Nothing. Really. It’s okay. I just --” She paused, wishing she could bear to look at him. But she needed time. She needed space. She knew she couldn’t be normal around him right now. “I have errands and things. My dad is coming to watch Pod. I -- I forgot.”

The excuse felt flimsy even to her. Jaime and the kids had barely arrived when Hyle showed up. Jaime looked like he knew she was lying through her teeth.

“Okay.” He looked -- he looked sad. “I’ll see you next week.”

She hated that his sentence sounded like a question -- like he was worried she would stop their playdates because of this one awful moment. She wouldn’t do that to Pod and Myrcella. She could stuff the feelings down, like she always did, if he would just stop looking at her like that.

“Of course.” She forced a smile she knew was tight at the corners. “Ten-thirty like always.”

He let her go, let her gather up a confused Pod, let them say their good-byes. She didn’t know why she was disappointed, why she wanted to tell him she’d changed her mind and go back to their bench. She wished she were a different person, a stronger person, someone who could stop herself from crumbling. But she just couldn’t.

--

Brienne dreaded their next park meet-up. It was an uncomfortable feeling. After weeks of anticipating those Saturdays, the pleasant jingle-jangle of her nerves before he showed up. This was more like a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, imagining what his face would be, imagining how it would feel to sit next to him and try to pretend nothing was different.

When Jaime finally appeared, he smiled the same as always, even if Brienne thought it seemed a little less bright. He sat next to her, but maybe a little further away than before. And they talked of nothing significant at all -- the weather, trivialities of their jobs, how the kids were that week. Nothing about themselves, no more personal revelations.

It continued that way. For the rest of the spring, through the end of the school year, into early summer. They smiled, they sat next to each other, and they had pleasant conversations. They were acquaintances, not friends.

If nothing else, it reinforced for Brienne what she had suspected all along: that moment on Jaime’s couch had been a moment of vulnerability and nothing else. The pressure and loneliness of becoming a single parent in one fell swoop, the trauma of having no family support, and explaining to children that they couldn’t stay with their mother and she couldn’t come home after those once-a-month visits.

Somehow, she missed him and she was grateful for the distance all at once.

Then one hot August day a week before Pod’s birthday, after he’d handed Myrcella an invitation with an ecstatic grin, Jaime had leaned his shoulder a little closer and asked if she needed help setting up.

Brienne looked at him, for a beat too long perhaps, long enough that his face closed off to her.

She made herself say, “Of course. I would appreciate that.”

The drawn expression on his face relaxed a bit, into a familiar half-smile. It felt like a quick prick of pain to her heart. But she did as she always did, and pressed through the hurt to return his smile.

--

Jaime showed up early the day of the birthday party. Myrcella had the gift in hand and Jaime had Tommen on his hip. Myrcella immediately grabbed Pod and dragged him off, asking where his toys were. Jaime set Tommen down, letting him cling to his hand.

Jaime clapped his hands together and looked at Brienne. “Okay, point me in a direction. How can I help?”

“I’m hanging the banners right now.” Brienne stepped further into her apartment. “If you could take charge of the food? Chips in bowls, fruit sliced up, sandwiches on plates, that kind of thing.”

“On it,” he said with a smile, and went in the direction Brienne pointed. Her apartment wasn’t large, so he would be completely incapable of missing the kitchen unless he truly trying.

Brienne had just finished thumbtacking the last of the banners up when the doorbell rang. She opened the door to find her father standing there, as barrel-chested as ever. He drew her into a big hug. She didn’t know how much she needed the comfort of his presence until she had his strong arms wrapped around her, the familiar smell of him filling her senses.

“Hey, Dad.” Brienne took a step back, letting her dad in the door. “Pod,” she called out, “Uncle Selwyn is here!”

Pod came bolting around the corner, Myrcella following close behind. Pod launched himself at Selwyn, who immediately picked him up like he weighed no more than a feather.

“Who’s this?” Selwyn asked as he set Pod back down on his feet, crouching down so he could greet Myrcella.

“This is my best friend, Myrcy,” Pod responded excitedly.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Selwyn said, a gentle smile on his face. “I like your dress.”

“Thank you!”

Selwyn looked up, then stood, raising one eyebrow. Brienne followed his eyeline to find a smiling Jaime, Tommen back on his hip.

“And who’s this?” he asked Brienne.

Pod spoke up before she had a chance to respond. “That’s Mr. Jaime, he’s Myrcy’s uncle.”

Jaime walked over and took Selwyn’s proffered hand. “It’s nice to finally meet Brienne’s father. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Have you?” Selwyn shot Brienne a look that made her cheeks flush.

“Why don’t we get out of the hallway?” Brienne asked, ignoring the look on her dad’s face that promised he would be asking more questions if they were alone. Selwyn and Brienne followed Jaime back into the kitchen while Pod and Myrcella ran off back to their play.

“So,” Selwyn said. Brienne braced herself. “How do you all know each other?”

“I was Pod’s teacher this past school year,” Jaime explained easily, setting Tommen down and handing him a slice of strawberry. “I ran into them at the park and Pod and Myrcella got on like a house on fire.”

The doorbell rang again and Brienne looked between Jaime and Selwyn with a sinking feeling before leaving them alone. Dangerously alone, if she was judging her father’s expression correctly.

Brienne found a smiling Margaery and Sansa on the other side of the door, carrying brightly-colored gift bags. Her stomach sank. In that moment, Brienne realized just how unprepared she was for her family and friends to find Jaime in her apartment first, before even they showed up, and well before any of Pod’s other friends were set to arrive.

Sansa tilted her head, assessing Brienne. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” Brienne tried not to wince at the completely unconvincing note of reassurance of her own voice.

Pod stuck his head around the corner of the hallway. “Myrcy! Come meet Auntie Sansa and Margie!”

Myrcella seemed immediately enraptured with Sansa and Margaery. Her little face lit up, her hands clasped in front of her as she greeted them with the same tone of awe that most people used when speaking to her beautiful friends. They were even more worship-inspiring standing together, all elegant angles and soft faces.

After the kids ran off again, Brienne took a deep breath and led Sansa and Margaery into the kitchen where Selwyn and Jaime seemed to have settled into a conversation about sports while Jaime continued setting the food out on various dishes. At the sight of Jaime, Brienne watched Margaery and Sansa’s faces transform into expressions of mischievous delight. Brienne had learned to dread those expressions over the years. Margaery and Sansa always meant well, whether it be through blind dates or dragging her to singles bars, but every time it ended either in Brienne’s mortification at the disinterest of strangers, or the worst blind dates imaginable.

Jaime looked up, smiling and wiped his hands on a dishtowel before offering one to Sansa and Margaery in turn. “We’ve met before, haven’t we?”

“Yes!” Margaery said enthusiastically. “At the cafe, I think. That was ages ago, though.”

“Oh, right. Of course.” he said, still smiling. “Sandwich?” He gestured to the display of food, turning back to finish slicing the fruit he was working on.

Margaery and Sansa turned identical smirks and raised eyebrows toward Brienne. Jaime didn’t seem to notice, thankfully.

She closed her eyes and prayed to the Seven for the other guests to arrive quickly.

--

Margaery sidled up to Brienne in her corner, her lips quirked in that smile that meant she knew something she wasn’t supposed to.

“So, Jaime?” She turned to lift an eyebrow at Brienne. “The one who’s only Pod’s teacher? Isn’t the school year over?”

“Any more questions before I have a chance to answer?” Brienne knew she sounded more annoyed than the interaction called for, but having Jaime around the whole day, smiling at her, moving around her apartment like he belonged there set her on edge even more than she anticipated.

Margaery turned to face her entirely, her mouth pursing into a moue of annoyance. “Don’t answer a question with a question.”

Brienne felt trapped by that tone and face. Margaery had known her for too long, knew exactly how she avoided topics and danced around answers to uncomfortable questions.

“Yes.” Brienne said, looking away from Margaery and across the room to where Jaime was wiping down Tommen’s frosting-sticky hands with a wet wipe.

“Brienne.” Margaery sounded like a parent scolding Brienne for her petulant tone.

Brienne bristled. “His niece Myrcella and Pod are very good friends. We see them once a week at the park. A couple times a month we have dinner together at his house, usually if either of us has to miss the playdate.” She recited it like she was reading off a grocery list, instead of describing the thing in her life that caused her the most turmoil.

“You see that man at least once a week and you want to claim it’s only for the kids to play?” Margaery sounded like she didn’t believe Brienne.

“It is only for the kids,” Brienne insisted, a lump in her throat.

It had been months since the almost-kiss, months since Hyle had showed up and -- no, it wasn’t Hyle’s fault things were strained between Jaime and Brienne now. It was Brienne’s fault for thinking it could be more, her fault for reacting so poorly to Jaime’s surprise at her broken engagement. She had been the one to erect the wall between them, to resist the urge to let him chip his way back in.

Brienne could feel Margaery staring at her, the long perusal of someone that knew her as well as she knew herself. Perhaps better sometimes.

“I need to go clean up,” Brienne mumbled, watching Jaime begin to stack the paper plates and cups.

“We’re not done with this,” Margaery warned her. “Something happened. I can see it all over your face.”

Brienne stared at her for a moment, swallowing thickly. She was tempted to put Margaery off, to insist that there really was nothing going on. But in a sudden rush, she just wanted to get all of it off her chest, to expunge the twisted-up sadness and hurt that weighed heavy in her chest. She nodded shortly and walked off.

--

Margaery and Sansa stayed until everyone else had gone home. Pod was wired from the extra sugar and exhausted from spending the afternoon with other kids and family, so Brienne welcomed their help in getting Pod through his bath, and brushing his teeth. They also happily agreed that each would read him a bedtime story, though he fell asleep midway through the second one.

Margaery didn’t even wait for Brienne to relax into the couch cushion before she said, “What happened with Pod’s teacher?”

Brienne took a deep breath and looked at Margaery and Sansa, the concern on their faces laced with that expression that promised retribution if necessary. She didn’t even know where to start. The playdates, or maybe before, when she first met him and felt like every inch of skin on her body tingling. She didn’t know if she should just skip to the dinner, the strange tense moment between them. Or …

Margaery and Sansa waited, knowing she needed patience and kindness to unknot her tongue and sort out her thoughts.

“Sorry,” she apologized automatically. “It’s all sort of jumbled up.”

“We’ve got all night,” Sansa said as she reached out and set a comforting hand on Brienne’s knee.

Brienne steadied herself before beginning. “A couple weeks into the kids having playdates, we had dinner at his house. We let the kids play after, and we just sort of … talked. He told me about why he had the kids and then there was this -- this moment. I thought he was going to kiss me but the kids interrupted.”

There were twin looks of excitement on Margaery and Sansa’s faces that made her feel sick, her stomach twisting up.

“But the next week, at the park, we ran into Hyle. He was weirded out by my reaction, and when I told him who Hyle was, he was just so shocked. Just like everyone else. Surprised that anyone would propose to me, I think.”

“Oh, Brienne,” Margaery said. Brienne felt the burn of tears threatening and looked down at her hands.

“We kept meeting on Saturdays. Myrcella and Pod just got along so well and Jaime is … kind. It’s still nice having someone around that gets it, the whole being-a-parent-with-no-warning thing. I didn’t mean to fall for him. I know better, I just...” she trailed off, unable to continue without crying in earnest.

Margaery got up from the chair she sat in facing Brienne and sat beside her on the couch, taking her hand.

“I’m not saying you’re wrong about his reaction,” she began slowly, “but is it possible you misinterpreted why he was surprised?”

Brienne shook her head definitely. Margaery looked at Sansa, her expression clearly broadcasting, ‘say something.’

“It’s only that from the outside looking in --” Sansa sad gently. “You should see the way he looks at you when you aren’t paying attention. It’s like he hasn’t seen you in forever and misses you but doesn’t know how to start a conversation again.”

That hurt even worse. The battle raged within her: she wanted to believe them with a desperation she hated, and she didn’t believe them. They saw her through friendship-tinted glasses. They loved her as no one other than her father did, and it blinded them to her. She couldn’t believe them because then it meant -- it meant she hadn’t misinterpreted Jaime’s actions, she’d just pushed him away.

“If that was true he would have said something.” Brienne insisted, voice rough, raw with emotion. “We see each other all the time. He’s had every opportunity.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Margaery asked.

Brienne stared at her. “You’ve seen him,” she said, barely above a whisper. “There’s no way he… And when he rejects me, he’ll be so nice about it. I won’t be able to stand it.”

“Oh, Brie.”

But that was all they said. They didn’t say anything when Brienne let a few tears escape, or when she held tight to their hands. They just leaned in, solid against her shoulders and let her be.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five

Since the school year was over, Pod spent Brienne’s working hours with Selwyn. Brienne knew she was lucky her dad was retired and willing to take on an energetic (albeit well-behaved) five-year-old. The upside was that Selwyn had taken on the role of surrogate grandfather with the same sort of dedication and delight he had taken in raising Brienne solo after her mom passed away. Pod spent his days helping Selwyn with some sort of carpentry project, or fishing, or learning to toss a baseball. Pod was delighted by every ‘big boy’ activity his great-uncle allowed him to help with.

So when Brienne showed up a few days after the party to pick Pod up, and her dad opened the door with a somber expression of worry on his face, Brienne’s heart jumped in her chest. She felt that cold panic rush through her, the pressure behind her eyes she hadn’t felt in months with regard to Pod.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice rough.

“Maybe nothing,” her dad said. “But I need to talk to you before you leave.”

He led her into the kitchen where Pod was busy with his crayons, working diligently to stay within the lines of the dog he was coloring.

“Hey buddy, can you go play in the living room for a minute?” Selwyn asked him, his large hand resting on Pod’s head. “I need to talk to Brienne about some grown-up stuff.”

“Okay!” Pod said brightly, abandoning his work on the table.

Brienne watched Pod go, his good mood confusing her. Usually when he’d had a bad day, the days when he’d missed his mom and dad, he was withdrawn and quiet for the rest of the day, like the weight of the entire world was on his small shoulders. When Brienne finally looked back to her dad, he was holding a sheet of paper in his hand, gazing down at it with a furrow between his brows.

He handed it to Brienne without a word. Carefully drawn stick figures, standing outside a crooked house. Her eyes drifted over the little one with spiky brown hair and, flanking either side of him, a yellow-haired girl about his size and a much smaller yellow-haired boy. But it was the two figures to the right of them, their stick figure hands overlapping, one taller with short yellow hair and the other with longer brown hair.

Brienne’s stomach knotted up. It wasn’t difficult to figure out who the people in the drawing were.

“I asked him what the picture was,” her dad said, his voice lowered so Pod wouldn’t overhear. “He told me it was his family.”

Brienne sat down at the table, dropping her forehead into her hand, taking a deep breath that shuddered through her chest. She heard her dad sit down in the nearest chair, facing her.

“I wasn’t sure if you just weren’t ready to share,” he continued. “But based on your reaction, there’s nothing romantic between you and this Mr. Jaime that Pod talks about constantly.”

“There’s not,” Brienne confirmed. Her dad waited for her to process her next step, as always the most patient man she’d ever known. “I’ll talk to him when we get home.”

“You sure you don’t need to do it here?” He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She knew he would draw her into a hug if they were standing. “You know if you need my support, I’m here.”

“I know.” Brienne finally lifted her eyes from where they stared unblinking at Pod’s lovingly drawn artwork. “I have to do it myself, though.”

He looked at her with the same sadness and worry he’d watched her with for months after she broke up with Hyle. It was the expression of a parent who wanted to fix problems that had no easy solution.

“Thanks, Dad,” she said, and leaned over to wrap her arms around him in an awkward hug. “It’ll be okay, but I should get him home so we can talk before dinner.”

“I love you, sweetie.” He patted her back like she was a small child. “You’re right; it will be okay.”

She smiled wanly, wanting to believe him, but the dread of disappointing Pod was an ache in her chest.

--

Pod had to use the bathroom when they got home, thankfully, so Brienne had a moment to gather her thoughts before he bounded back into the living room. Brienne patted the spot next to her on the couch. “Hey Pod, hop up here. I need to talk to you about something.”

Pod’s entire face fell, a worried look on his features.

“No, no.” Brienne reached out for him, pulling him into her lap instead. “You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?

Pod nodded his head, but still didn’t say anything.

“Uncle Selwyn showed me the picture you drew,” she said gently. “The one of us with Mr. Jaime, Myrcella, and Tommen.”

“Did you like it?” Pod looked up at her warily but hopefully.

“It was a very good drawing,” Brienne reassured him. “Can you tell me why you drew it?”

Pod chewed on his bottom lip. He dropped his eyes to his lap.

“You won’t be in trouble,” Brienne reassured him. “I just want to talk about it.”

“It’s all of us together,” Pod said quietly, still not looking at her. “Like a family.” The soft words that sounded like a confession made a lump form in her throat.

“Pod, you know that we’re all just friends, right?”

Pod nodded, but she could see the faint sheen of tears in his eyes. “I just want Mr. Jaime to be my dad and Myrcy and Tommen to be my brother and sister.”

“I know you do.” She pulled him tighter into her, hugging him closer and running a hand over his head soothingly. “But Mr. Jaime and I are just friends like you and Myrcy are, okay? But we can all be friends and we can keep seeing them even when you have a new teacher.”

“Okay,” Pod mumbled and pressed against her even though she held him as tightly as she dared.

They sat there for a long time, Brienne cuddling him close while he sorted out his feelings. When he finally squirmed, she loosened her grip. “Do you want to go play while I cook dinner?”

Pod nodded and climbed off her lap, heading to his bedroom.

Brienne stood and walked into the bathroom, her steps feeling as heavy as if she were wading through quicksand. The moment she shut the door, she leaned back against it, drawing heaving breaths into her lungs. She slid down until she was sitting, her head buried between her knees, unable to stop the tide of tears that streaked down her cheeks, leaving damp spots against her slacks.

She’d really mucked it up this time. The guilt she felt was overwhelming -- for letting Jaime so close, for encouraging the bond between them, and for not keeping him at a normal distance that a preschooler should have with his teacher. It was her fault. She should have known better. She should’ve seen it coming and made sure Pod didn’t get his hopes up. She should have made sure she didn’t get her hopes up.

--

After Brienne had calmed down, gotten through supper, and put Pod to bed, she pulled her phone out and opened the text message thread between her and Jaime.

Brienne: Can you talk?

Jaime: Sure everything okay?

Brienne called him instead of answering. He picked up before the first ring even finished.

“Are you okay?” he asked, skipping a greeting entirely.

“Yeah,” she said. She hated that she was immediately swamped by the warm, concerned tone of his voice. It was so familiar it hurt. “Can you meet this week, just the two of us?”

“Sure.” Jaime sounded uneasy. “Are you sure you’re okay? Is anything wrong?”

“We just need to talk. Without the kids.”

“Okay. What day are you free?” His voice was tense, like he was forcing the words to sound calm. “I’m probably more flexible than you in the summer.”

“I work the night shift on Friday. We could meet that afternoon?”

“I’ll find a babysitter.”

She nearly offered to have him drop Myrcella and Tommen off at her dad’s. She knew Pod would be happy to see them and that her dad would agree. But that would defeat the purpose. It would just make everything harder.

“Let’s meet at the park.” Brienne needed the open space and hopefully fewer eyes on them than there would be at a restaurant.

“Sounds good,” he said. She had never had a conversation this strained with Jaime. Not even in the weeks right after the Hyle incident. “Two o’clock okay?”

“Yep. I’ll see you there.”

There was a brief silence that felt like a century before Brienne finally managed to say, “I need to go. I have an early shift tomorrow morning.”

“Good night, Brienne.”

She closed her eyes against the sound of her name on his lips.

“Good night, Jaime.”

--

It was strange to see Jaime approaching her without the kids and ever-present warm smile on his face. He looked nervous, his hands shoved into the pockets of his familiar, worn jeans.

“Hey,” he greeted her, his mouth tilting in the shadow of a smile.

“Hi,” she said, her voice tight.

He sat next to her, close enough that they could touch, but not close enough that she could feel the warmth of him against her side. They lapsed into silence. Brienne struggled for the words to begin, how to broach a subject that made her want to cry just thinking about it.

“So,” he finally broke the silence, almost startling her with the sound of his voice. “We need to talk?”

“Yeah.” She took a deep breath. She could feel his gaze on her. “I’m sorry. This is just … hard. Pod drew a picture of us.”

She looked up to find Jaime watching her calmly, but no hint of shock or worry on his face.

“All of us. Him with Tommen and Myrcella, and --” she swallowed. “And the two of us. Together.”

Brienne could see the dawning realization in his eyes.

“Oh.” He turned his eyes away from her. She watched his face slip between emotions as he took in the information.

“I just think maybe we need to. . .” She gestured helplessly.

“Myrcella said something to me after the party,” Jaime said before she could continue. “Apparently she and Pod have talked about us all being a family.”

“Shit.” Jaime blinked in surprise, a large smile curving his mouth. She furrowed her eyebrows and asked, “What?”

“In all the months I’ve known you, I have never heard you curse.”

Brienne blushed at the amusement in his voice. “I try not to. I don’t want to slip up around Pod and it was just easier to cut it out entirely.”

“Oh, I know how that is. The first time Tommen repeated one back to me when he wasn’t even two yet, I had to force myself not to anymore.”

Brienne let herself smile back at him for a moment before the reason for their meeting flooded back in. Jaime’s smile faded with her own.

“What did you tell Myrcella?”

“Probably what you told Pod.” He sighed. “That we weren’t together like that. That we were just friends.”

Brienne didn’t know why that hurt. She had given the same explanation. It was the truth. And yet, somehow, those words from his lips stung.

“She argued, of course,” Jaime continued, faint amusement coloring his tone. “According to her, if we got married, we could all live together and she and Pod could play every day. She and Tommen like you. You like them. I’m the best uncle ever, so obviously you must like me. And, of course, I like you.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Brienne responded without thinking, regretting it immediately when Jaime raised his eyebrows, something of the old twinkle back in his eyes.

“Pod?”

“No.” Brienne blushed. “Margaery and Sansa. Don’t worry. I -- I explained. You know. That you --”

“That I what?” Jaime’s gaze was suddenly serious, intent. She froze. She could feel her face turning hotter and she knew the flush was spreading down her neck, that it would be splotchy like hives. When she didn’t respond, he asked again, “That I what, Brienne?”

She swallowed heavily. Her lips felt tingly, almost numb with the fear that set her heart racing.

“That you don’t feel that way about me.” She said, her pulse thrumming in her ears. His expression shifted, and for the first time in months, she couldn’t quite read him. “It’s okay. I never expected you would. I get it.”

“I’m not sure I get it,” he said. He kept staring at her. She desperately wanted to look away, but couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from his. “Why wouldn’t you expect it?”

“Because,” she said desperately. She wanted to cry. This was exactly what she had wanted to avoid. She didn’t want to take Pod away from his best friend, but she couldn’t do this once he -- if he knew that she -- she couldn’t face him every week with his rejection hovering over them.

“Because why?” He was leaning closer to her now, his eyes roaming over her face, like he was trying to find her weak spots, the things that would leave her raw and exposed.

“Because.” She repeated, swallowing and blinking away the burn of tears. “Because I’m me and you’re you. I’m not blind, Jaime.”

He jerked back at that. “Neither am I.” He sounded incredulous. She had to look away from him then. She didn’t want to see the confirmation on his face.

“I know,” she whispered, hoping he couldn’t hear how thick her voice was with emotion.

“No, Brienne.” He shifted on the bench, she watched as his hand reached for her haltingly before he stopped himself from touching her. “Please look at me.”

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before turning her head to meet his eyes once more.

“I’m going to say something now and you just have to promise me you won’t --” She watched as his throat tightened. “Please don’t disappear if you -- if I’ve got this whole thing wrong.”

She stared at him, tried to tamp down the creeping wonder and hope. But it didn’t seem like he was about to tell her she was a wretched beast. Unlovable. Unfeminine. Not enough.

“Promise, Brienne.” He looked at her almost wildly.

“I promise.”

He braced himself, his entire body tensing. “I have been in love with you for months.”

Whatever she’d expected, even what she’d hoped, never could she have imagined that would be his confession.

“What?” she asked breathlessly. She knew she must look ridiculous, her eyes as wide as they would go, eyebrows lifted high on her forehead, her mouth unable to close after her question.

Jaime sighed. “I’m in love with you,” he repeated, sounding dejected. As if he thought she was turning him down. “I have been since -- oh, I don’t know. Since the first time I saw you. I really didn’t believe in love at first sight. It’s a really -- it’s an insane idea. But then I saw you, and -- it just clicked. I don’t know how to explain it. I just knew.”

He shrugged helplessly, a sad smile briefly on his mouth. She was speechless.

“But after that first dinner, when I almost kissed you … you left right after and then the next time I saw you, you were, I don’t know, withdrawn. I thought you just didn’t want to hurt my feelings.”

“No,” she said finally. “I -- I thought you didn’t mean to, and then you were so surprised about Hyle… You weren’t the first one to react that way when you saw us together.”

“I was surprised at how much it upset me that I didn’t know something about you, and jealous that someone got to be with you when I didn’t, even if it was before we met. Then I just wanted to jog after him and make him regret ever hurting you.” Brienne’s hands were trembling as he lifted one of his to cup her face, stroking his thumb along her cheekbone.“Just put me out of my misery,” he said, his eyes desperate. “If you really don’t want to be with me, please tell me now. I’ll get over it.”

“I can’t believe -- of course I want to be with you. I’ve wanted you since that first day.” She leaned into his hand. “I think I’ve loved you since that first day at the park. You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met, and seeing how much you love Tommen and Myrcella …”

“Brienne,” he murmured.

And then he kissed her with all the need and love she had felt for months.

Brienne couldn’t imagine a moment more perfect, the happiness bubbling in her chest like champagne.

The sun was shining and the birds were chirping as Brienne kissed the man she loved. The man that loved her.

Chapter Text

Epilogue

-- Four Years Later --

“Bear!” 

The giant black dog comes to a fumbling stop in the hallway. He looks at Brienne with the most pathetic eyes she’s seen outside of her children. Brienne takes a calming breath and directs the dog out the open back door. 

Jaime peeks his head out from the kitchen. “What did he break now?” 

“Nothing.” Brienne sighs. “But he nearly knocked me down. I’m not exactly light on my feet these days.”

Brienne glares at the soft, contented smile that flows over Jaime’s features. 

“Oh, come on.” He walks toward her, wiping his hands on the dishtowel stuck in the pocket of his apron. He cups her rounded belly in his hands. “Don’t glare me like that. It takes two to tango.” 

“Not helping,” she grumbles. 

Jaime leans up and presses a sweet kiss to her lips. She tries to roll her eyes, but the tilt to the corners of her mouth belies her aggravation. 

“Ew.” 

Brienne sighs. Myrcella stands in the doorway, her face scrunched with the kind of distaste only a ten-year-old girl can muster. 

“Yes, Myrcella?” Brienne asks patiently. 

“Can I spend the night at Jeyne’s?” 

Brienne looks at Jaime, knowing in a glance he doesn’t know who Jeyne is either. 

“Do we know Jeyne’s parents?” Brienne levels Myrcella with a no-arguments look she’s perfected.

“No.” 

“You know the rules,” Jaime chimes in, forever backing up Brienne when Myrcella is at her most pre-teen. 

Myrcella huffs. “Okay. I’ll get her mom’s number.”

Brienne stifles her laughter at the aggrieved manner with which Myrcella flounces out of the hall. 

“We are going to survive her teen years, right?” Jaime whispers to her. 

“Probably?” Brienne answers unsurely.

Jaime does laugh then and presses a kiss to her temple.

--

“B?”

Brienne looks over her shoulder to find Pod hovering near the entrance to the nursery. 

“Hey, honey.” She holds out a hand to him until he shuffles into the room to sit beside her. 

She watches him carefully as he fiddles with the various bolts and screws that litter the pale green rug. The normally happy and boisterous Pod keeps his eyes fixated on his hands, a small frown tugging at his mouth. 

“You okay?” Brienne asks him, fitting another rung into the base of the rocking chair she’s assembling, and giving him space to sort through whatever’s vexing him. She runs a hand over his bowed head when he doesn’t respond. “Did something happen at school?”

Pod shakes his head. Brienne sets down the chair parts in her hands and offers Pod one. He shuffles into her lap, the fit already getting tight, but, for now, she can hold him to her. 

“Are you and Myrcella fighting?” Another head shake. “You and Tommen?” 

“No,” he finally mumbles. 

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” She ducks her head to try and catch his eye. “I bet if you tell me what’s wrong I can help you.”

Pod does glance up at her then, his eyes shiny with impending tears and worry. 

“Myrcy and Tommen went to see their mom last week.” He snuggles in closer as she rubs a soothing hand up and down his back. 

“Do you have questions about their mom?” Brienne asks softly. 

“No.” Pod tucks his face against her shoulder. “The new baby gets to have a mom and a dad and Myrcy and Tommen still have a mom, even if she’s not here.”

“Oh.” She feels tears prick her eyes and gathers him even tighter against her. “You know Jaime and I love you very much. We love you just like you were always our kid. Just like we love Myrcella and Tommen.”

Brienne swallows heavily as she feels the wet heat of Pod’s tears through her shirt. He’s not sobbing, not making any noise at all except a quiet sniffle every now and then. 

“And you love us as much as your new baby?” 

Brienne shifts Pod so he’s sitting in front of her. She cups his cheeks and lifts his head until he can look her in the eye.  “Is that what you’re worried about? That we’ll love your new sibling more because they’re mine and Jaime’s together?” 

Pod doesn’t answer, but she can see the confirmation in his expression. 

“I want you to listen very carefully, okay?” Brienne brushes the tears off his cheeks. 

“Okay,” Pod says quietly.

“Jaime and I are your parents.” She blinks away the burn of tears, knowing that if she cries in front of him, he’ll only be upset. “We’re your mom and dad just as much as we’re the baby’s mom and dad. I promise, okay?”

Pod nods, but bites his lip, a question still in his eyes. 

“Do you think --” he begins and hesitates, taking a shaky breath. “Can I call you and Jaime mom and dad?”

The lump in Brienne’s throat makes it nearly impossible to speak. “Of course you can call me mom. If that’s what you want.” Pod launches himself at her, his arms wrapped around her neck. “I want you to ask Jaime, too.” Pod stiffens against her. “He’ll love it if you call him dad, but you should ask him. That way he gets to feel special too.” 

--

Jaime curls around Brienne’s back, hand automatically coming to rest on her stomach, rubbing soothing circles over the tightly stretched skin. 

“Tommen okay?” Brienne mumbles, halfway to sleep. 

“Yeah,” Jaime says into her shoulder, his breath warm against her skin. “Just a nightmare. I think Myrcella told him a scarier version of Little Red Riding Hood. He said something about wolves eating us.” 

She groans. “Time for another talk?”

“Yeah.” Jaime sighs and nuzzles against her neck, his beard tickling her. “We’ve got one kid not scared of anything, one kid scared of everything, and one kid who just does his best to remain neutral.”

“At least they all even out in the end. Imagine if we had three Myrcellas.” 

Jaime laughs. “I can only imagine the house would end up burnt to the ground by the time they were five.” 

Brienne is just drifting back to sleep, Jaime’s body a comforting weight against her back. 

“Pod talked to me today,” Jaime mumbles, almost as if he’s testing whether she’s really asleep. 

“Mmmm?” Brienne turns her head to catch a glimpse of him. 

“He said you told him he could call you mom.” 

Something in Jaime’s voice makes her turn in his arms until she’s on her back. She can look him in the eye now, his expression makes her reach out and run her thumb along his cheekbone. 

“I did,” she confirms. “And did he ask you if he could call you dad?”

Jaime nods, his eyes glossing over. He draws a shaky breath. Brienne frowns at him. 

“Are you upset?” 

“No,” he says immediately, but his voice is shaky. “It was -- I was surprised.”

Brienne kisses him gently. “And a little overwhelmed?”

“Yeah.” He leans into her palm, nuzzling and placing a kiss against her wrist. “I told him he could.”

“Of course you did.” Brienne shifts into him as closely as she can. “You’re sure you’re okay with it? You can tell me, you know. I won’t be upset.”

“Of course I’m okay with it.” He hugs Brienne as well as his can with only one arm and her on her back. “I’ve felt like his dad for -- I don’t even know how long now. It hardly matters. He’s our kid.” 

Brienne curses the hormones, the way she can’t prevent herself from softly crying. 

“Do you think Myrcella and Tommen will be okay with it?” she asks, her voice watery.

“I think so.” His eyebrows furrow with thought. “They consider Pod their brother, but they still think of us as their uncle and aunt.”

“What if they want to?” Brienne sets her hand over his on her stomach, lacing their fingers together. “They may want to with Pod and the new baby calling us mom and dad.”

“I don’t know,” Jaime admits. “Cersei wouldn’t like it. But -- I just don’t know.”

“You don’t have to.” Brienne squeezes his hand. “You’re right. It would probably be weirder for them to switch from calling us their aunt and uncle to calling us mom and dad. Cersei will always be their mom, I’m not trying to take her place.”  

“You’ve been more of a mom to them than Cersei ever really was, kinder at least.” His faraway look focuses back on Brienne’s face. “Is it cowardly to say we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it? If we get to it?”

“I think raising three kids who came to us under less than ideal circumstances and preparing for another baby has earned us a little cowardice if we so choose.” Brienne matches his sheepish smile. “But even so, I don’t think it’s cowardly. We can’t plan for every eventuality. Doing so would almost be begging the gods to make fools of us.” 

He looks at her for long enough she begins to feel unsettled. He breaks the moment by leaning in and kissing her firmly. 

“You have no idea how lucky I am,” he says against her mouth, “or how much I love you.”

“Oh, I think I have some idea.”