Chapter Text
Davos whistled to himself as he sauntered down the stairs. Running a Backpackers’ Hostel in the mountainous Vale of Arryn was not for the faint-hearted but he had survived the local music festival for another year with only one overflowing bathful of beer and minimal late-night revelling-fuelled destruction. On top of that, it had all looked awesome on Instagram.
He attributed his unusual success to the recent return of Arya Stark. She certainly didn’t look like a head-kicker with her tiny stature, but that was all part of her charm, especially now that she’d returned from her own travels, a woman grown.
He realised how much she’d been only a slip of a kid on her last stint on his staff, especially now that he saw the way she strode around the hostel with her easy adult confidence, her cool gaze and slow, sardonic observations keeping all the residents in check.
He was pleased to see that despite the hard things she’d had to endure, she hadn’t lost that ability they’d all loved in her years ago - that knack she had of befriending anyone and everyone. She kept those backpackers in line without so much as breaking a sweat, but they loved her even as she jollied them into doing the right thing such that she never had to pay for any of her own drinks down at the pub and she was kept in a steady supply of touristy souvenir trinkets as gifts. Her bushwalks, rock-climbing expeditions, canyoning groups, abseiling sessions and caving trips were always over-subscribed to the point that he wondered why he even bothered hiring the rest of his staff. He supposed someone needed to clean the rooms and answer the phones. He wished he could provide her a more able assistant though.
Davos reached the point of the staircase where his view opened up to the lobby of the hostel below and his jaunty whistle died on his lips. He melted back into the shadows to observe the tense interaction unfolding on the ground floor.
Arya stood in the center of the lobby staring at the hulking form in the doorway, another of Davos’ long-lost employees perhaps, he hoped, seeking to return to the fold.
Gendry Waters watched Arya warily, lowering his bags slowly to the floor without taking his eyes off her.
“Davos about?” he asked casually.
“Hello to you too,” she replied.
Gendry let out a long breath. “Hey Arya. How’re things?”
She shrugged. “Fine.”
“It’s nice to see you,” Gendry admitted, his voice softening. “You look good.”
“Last I saw you, that Red Woman had one hand in your back pocket and the other inside your shirt.”
He hung his head. “Not my finest set of decisions, I’ll grant you that.”
“No?” she asked archly. “You seemed pretty happy about it at the time.”
“Look, Arya,” said Gendry. “You know I left you message after message trying to apologise. You never took my calls.”
“All water under the bridge now,” she said airily. “You had your adventures, I had mine.”
“And now life brings us both back here again.”
Davos saw the tell-tale clench of Arya’s fists by her side and decided there was no more time for lurking behind the scenes.
“Is that my lad Gendry I hear?” he boomed from the upper floor, being certain to loudly break into whatever tension seethed below.
A grin broke out across Gendry’s face as he looked up. “Davos!” he called. “Gods, I’ve missed you.”
Davos jogged down the staircase and embraced him warmly. “Another of my prodigals, returned!” he cried. “What with you back, and Arya here, I’m returned to my glory days all of a sudden!”
Gendry looked back at his once and future boss, his eyes darting uncomfortably between him and Arya. “You could use another pair of hands, then?”
“Of course!” Davos enthused. “Always! Especially when they’re yours.”
The big man ran a hand through his scruffy black hair. “That ok with you, Arya?” he asked tentatively.
She looked at him as if he’d grown another head. “What difference could it possibly make to me?”
Gendry smiled weakly. “Great. Consider me back then.”
Davos chuckled and embraced him again. Marya had loved observing the first instalment of their ultimately unfruitful love story. She’d be thrilled when he told her that their favourite live-action soap opera had reinstated itself that morning in their lobby.
The older man cast his eye over Arya’s feigned indifference and Gendry’s repentant melancholy. He just knew that this next episode would be a firecracker.
“Can I put you in the apartment next door to Arya again?” Davos asked, letting himself watch her wide-eyed reaction more than his.
Gendry gulped. “Just like old times.”
“It just means sharing the balcony with her and that wolf of hers.”
“Wolf?” he asked nervously. “That’s new.”
Arya’s smile was as predatory as her sweet tone was false. “Oh! My puppy, Nymeria. You’ll adore her.”
Davos chuckled to himself as he picked up one of Gendry’s bags and shouldered it. “Come on, son. Let’s get you settled back in.”