Chapter Text
One room.
One. Fucking. Bed.
That's all they're given. That's all there is to this hotel.
One. Single. King-sized. Bed.
In one. Single. Room.
"There has to be some mistake," Jon says to the front desk, almost not recognizing his own tone of voice because of how... broken it sounded. "I'm sure Miss Stark and I made different reservations--"
"Obviously," Sansa Stark drawls behind him, her voice dry as dust. She pushes past his place before the front desk to tell the hotel staff, "We need different rooms, as I'm sure you understand."
"I'm sorry," the receptionist says, her expression apologetic. "Our system appeared to have glitched when you made your reservations, resulting to you having booked the exact same room at the exact same schedule--"
"Then fix it!" Sansa snaps, crossing her arms. "Book him someplace else. I'll--"
"Now hold on a minute," Jon cuts in, brows drawn together. "Why should I move? I was there first."
She rolls her eyes. "So what? I was given a key, too. Therefore, I also have a right to that room."
He stares at her, his jaw clenched, almost tempted to give her hell for being so... for being so--
"You know what, I agree. Book me somewhere else." Jon gives the receptionist - Gilly - the widest smile his face can contort to. "A room as far away from Miss Stark, if you please."
Sansa sniffs and looks pointedly away from him.
"I'm sorry," Gilly tells them again, and to her credit she sounds like she really is. "But we're already fully booked. I can't transfer you, Mr. Snow, even if I want to."
"You see?" Sansa says, smiling now. "If you really have to have a room far away from me, seems like you need to move into a different hotel." As an afterthought she adds, "Or to another planet."
"Bet you'd just love that, wouldn't you?" Jon asks her.
"Loads," she snarls.
He takes a deep breath, all the while just looking at her.
Truth be told Jon will give anything in the world to be able to just-- just--
"I will... have to advice against that, Mr. Snow," Gilly says, grimacing. "You see, with the convention being tomorrow, finding another hotel at this hour is... very much next to impossible."
For a moment Jon just stares at her, his mouth agape.
This isn't happening.
This cannot be happening.
"Well what would you suggest I do, then?" Jon asks, trying his damnedest to keep his voice from betraying his frustration.
Gilly bites her lip, her gaze jumping from him to Sansa then back again. "If I may be so bold," she starts. "You two seem to know each other well, so I'm thinking--"
"No!" Sansa cuts in, her tone unnaturally high.
It takes Jon a millisecond later to realize: "You're suggesting I sleep with her?"
Sansa glances at him and comments, "No need to sound so disgusted with the idea, Snow."
"Stark--"
"It's a King-sized bed," Gilly says, blissfully unaware of the horrors her innocent suggestion is awakening in him. "It can comfortably hold two people lying down side-by-side--"
"You do realize we can sue this hotel for this inconvenience, don't you?" Sansa asks point-blank. "You're forcing us to accept this... this compromise brought on by your incompetence--"
"Oh, but system glitches are beyond our capabilities or competencies, Miss Stark," Gilly says, straightening her back and pursing her lips. "And no one is forcing you to do anything. On one hand, I was talking to Mr. Snow. On the other hand, I was merely suggesting how we can go around this limitation of having just one room for the two of you, taking into consideration the reason for your reservations in the first place." She gives Sansa a wide smile.
Jon disguises his chuckle by way of a cough, which Sansa no doubt realized is fake as all fuck.
Damn. It's official; he likes this Gilly.
Sansa, meanwhile, obviously doesn't. "You know what? This is no longer a problem for me. Do whatever the hell you want, Snow, I don't care. I'm going back to my room. Good luck, godspeed, whatever." And with that, she turns on her heel and leaves for the elevator.
After she's gone Gilly asks him, "Is she always like that? Like she has a stick up her--"
"Thank you, Miss Gilly," he says, pointedly cutting her off. Jon shoves his hands in his pockets. "I guess I'll just-- have a look around for now, see if there are any vacant rooms somewhere else."
"I'm really sorry," she tells him.
He nods at her and takes off.
A few fucking hours of wandering aimlessly around, however, yields him the result Gilly already told him--
All the nearby hotels? Hostels? Bedspaces? Rooms for rent?
All fully booked.
Leaving Jon Snow fucked as-- well, fuck.
He goes back to Dragonstone Hotel, thinking that he at least needs to eat his dinner first - all the while planning how the hell he's supposed to get through the night without a hotel room.
Jon takes his phone out, fully intending to call his assistant, Sam, and task him with the gargantuan job of booking him somewhere--
--when his hotel key card slides out his pocket, landing noiselessly on the carpeted floor beside his left foot.
"So what? I was given a key, too. Therefore, I also have a right to that room."
Jon picks up the hotel key card, contemplating... contemplating... contemplating--
Ah, screw it.
By Sansa Stark's own logic, he too has a claim to that room by virtue of him having a key card in the first place.
Which means...
He has a room in this hotel after all.