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When Sansa wakes it is still dark, but she somehow knows from the filtered orange glow coming into her room from a street lamp that it has snowed the night before. Her suspicions are confirmed when she raises her blinds to take a peek outside. Winter has officially arrived.
She halfheartedly checks her phone to see if she has any notifications from school, not even remotely surprised to find out that there aren’t any. It would take nothing short of a natural disaster to close campus for the day. But still, Sansa is already dreading driving up the steep and winding path towards campus if it’s covered in ice.
As if reading her thoughts, her phone lights up with a text message from Jon. Carpool with me?
She smiles, relieved. Yes, please, she types back, then sets out to eat a quick breakfast and get ready for the day. As she moves around the small apartment, she’s careful to stay quiet, not wanting to wake up her roommates Val and Mya, whose classes today don’t start until mid-morning. She’s also careful in choosing her outfit, deciding on white fleece lined leggings, a cashmere sweater, and her warmest fuzzy socks. This will match nicely with my boots, coat, mittens, and hat, she thinks while she gives her reflection a onceover in her bedroom mirror.
Who cares? another voice chimes in her head, sounding suspiciously like her younger sister Arya. You’re just going to your classes and riding to school with Jon. Who are you trying to impress? Sansa shoves her white pom pom hat over her red hair instead of responding.
After sliding on her boots and mittens and throwing on her coat, she double checks she has the correct text books in her backpack before zipping it up and slinging it over her shoulders. She grabs her cell phone and keys and sticks her phone in her coat pocket before opening the front door, revealing Jon on the other side, who is fiddling with the lock on his door.
His dark curls are pulled back in a bun, a hairstyle she usually sees him wearing while he’s working at Bael’s. When he turns toward her, she sees that his black wool coat is unbuttoned, showing a dark green sweater underneath. He has on a pair of light blue jeans, and they’re tucked into knee-high snow boots. See? Jon didn’t bother to match his outfit, Inner Arya nags. He still looks handsome, she thinks, before turning away to lock her door.
“You ready?” he asks when Sansa faces him again. His coat is now buttoned up, and he is looking at her expectantly while wrapping a soft brown scarf around his neck.
“Yes.”
“Let’s go.” He grabs the laptop bag that’s propped up against the wall and slings it over his shoulder, and they begin to walk down the hall to the stairwell.
“I like your scarf,” she tells him, because she hasn’t been able to tear her eyes away from it from the moment he placed it around his neck. Has she ever seen him wear a scarf? She’s known him for years, after all, even though they were never terribly close before now. Why is she even fixated on this?
He scratches at his beard lightly, and she notices the tips of his ears become red. “Thanks. My mom got it for me last Christmas. She says I need something for my head since I refuse to wear a hat.” Sansa chuckles. Jon glances at her shyly before adding, “You look really nice.”
It’s Sansa’s turn to blush slightly at the compliment. “Thank you.” Inner Arya has nothing to say to that.
Jon holds the door open for her, once at the entrance to the stairwell and again at the door that leads to outside. They trudge towards his truck in the semi darkness, the sun still having not yet risen over the mountain peaks. When they reach his snow-covered truck, he gets the door for her a final time, only this time it’s because Sansa can’t pry it open since it is frozen shut. She lifts herself into her seat carefully, knowing from past experience that sliding on an ice-covered running board is not fun at all. Once she’s seated, she slides her backpack off her shoulders and drops it on the floorboard in front of her feet. Jon already has his bag placed in the seat in between them.
Jon turns the heat on blast as soon as he gets his truck started. He holds his bare hands over the vent a few moments to warm them before switching the heat to defrost. “Do you need any help?” Sansa asks when he retrieves his windshield scraper from his door pocket.
He shoots her a grin. “Nah, I’ll be fine. Just sit tight.” He opens the car door to slip outside and the resulting short blast of cold air makes her teeth chatter when it hits her. Sansa spends her time waiting by playing a game on her phone and occasionally shooting glances at Jon when a new spot on the windshield is scraped clean. In seemingly no time at all, the windshield, side windows, and side mirrors are scraped free of snow and ice, Jon is settled in the driver’s seat, and they’re off.
They speak of inconsequential things as Jon carefully navigates the streets. Sansa talks about how she’s enjoying her creative writing class and Jon tells her the latest shenanigans involving Tormund and Val at the bar. The sun finally makes its presence known as they’re travelling up the mountain, almost blinding them both with its brilliant light. Sansa slides on some sunglasses she has stored in one of her backpack’s side pockets while Jon merely lowers his overhead visor. Their friendly conversation lapses into a comfortable silence soon after. Sansa watches the outside roll by as they crest the top of the mountain, and she notes that they’re one of the first people to arrive on campus as Jon pulls into an empty parking space.
Arryn University has become a winter wonderland overnight. The once castle turned college campus is covered in a thick blanket of snow, the sunshine making it sparkle like tiny diamonds. Sansa audibly gasps as she takes it in, her mitten-clad fingers curling around her backpack straps.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Jon asks from beside her. She turns her head to look at him. Instead of gazing at the scenery like she thought he would be, he looks straight at her, a soft smile on his face.
“It reminds me of home,” she tells him honestly. “Not the castle,” she waves a hand towards the main campus, “but the snow…and the quiet.”
He looks thoughtful. “That makes sense.”
She nudges his shoulder playfully. “Speaking of home…are you excited for Christmas break?”
Jon groans and scuffs the toe of his boot along the cleared off sidewalk. “I’m not even thinking about Christmas at the moment. Too stressed over finals coming up.”
Sansa frowns at that. With it being his senior year and with the courses he takes, she knows that his exams will be difficult. But they’re over two weeks away! It wouldn’t kill him to get into the Christmas spirit in the meantime, will it? She gasps when the perfect idea comes to her. “We should get Christmas trees!”
“What?”
“We need to go Christmas tree shopping after we get through with our classes, to decorate our apartments.” At Jon’s look, Sansa barely resists the urge to pout. “One afternoon of not studying won’t kill us.”
“Pyp has an artificial tree that we put up…”
“That’s not the same, Jon Snow, and you know it!” By now they’ve reached the front doors, but before Jon can push them open, Sansa grabs his forearm to turn him toward her. “I’ll make a batch of your favorite cookies,” she wheedles, squeezing his arm lightly. “White chocolate macadamia nut, right?”
Jon laughs, and the sight of it brings a huge smile to her face as well. “Alright, I’ll do it,” he concedes. “But I don’t want to hear any complaining when we have to carry two of those things up three flights of stairs.”
“You got a Christmas tree?!” Mya screeches.
Sansa pauses her stirring and looks up from her mixing bowl. “I hope that’s alright. I wasn’t sure about decorations – “
“Don’t worry, I’ll get them!” Sansa watches the dark-haired woman race off into her room, then she slowly turns back towards Val, who is still hovering by the front door.
“How did you even get it up here?” Val asks, looking at the tree with appreciation.
“Jon helped me. I bribed him with cookies.” She raises the mixing bowl in the crook of her arm a little, as proof.
Val scrutinizes her, and Sansa tries not to squirm under her piercing gaze. “I’ll help Mya find those decorations,” the blonde says nonchalantly after an awkward silence, and without another word she follows Mya’s path into her room, leaving a confused Sansa standing in the kitchen. Sansa decides not to dwell on their weird exchange, and resumes her stirring until the mixture is ready to be divided out onto a cookie sheet. She has just placed the cookie sheet into the oven and set the timer for ten minutes when her roommates emerge carrying containers of the supposed decorations and setting them down in the living area by their new tree.
Sansa helps Mya and Val decorate, only stopping to take the cookies out of the oven when the timer goes off. Whatever awkwardness that occurred with Val is forgotten by Sansa as they and Mya fall into an easy rapport hanging up ornaments. At some point, Val leaves them at the tree to place decorations around the rest of the apartment, but returns just as they are tossing icicles on its branches. This, of course, devolves into an icicle fight, and the apartment is filled with their shrieks and laughter as the young women chuck the silver tinsel at each other. Their fun gets interrupted when they hear a knock at the door.
“That’s probably Jon,” Sansa says with a sigh, trying to brush off stray icicles from her hair and shoulders.
Val is already kneeling on the floor and picking up stray pieces, and Mya soon joins her. “Go ahead and get the door, Sansa. We got this.”
Another knock sounds. Sansa hesitates, but heeds Val when Mya makes a shooing motion. “Hi,” she says breathlessly to Jon when she opens the door.
“You have tinsel in your hair,” he says in lieu of a greeting. He raises his hand, and Sansa’s breath hitches when she feels his fingers skim the side of her face, and sure enough, she sees a flash of silver threaded between his fingers as he lowers it.
“We were having a pretty epic icicle fight going on when you knocked,” she informs him as she holds out her hand.
He smiles as he hands her the stray piece, their fingers brushing longer than necessary. “I see. Were you winning?”
Before she can answer, Mya’s voice calls out behind her, “No!”
Jon chuckles, and Sansa steps aside to give him room to enter. Before he can take one step past the threshold, Val yells at them, “WAIT.” They both jolt and turn to her in confusion, and Val raises her arm dramatically and points at the doorway above them. “Mistletoe,” she says simply, triumph flashing in her eyes. Sansa trails her eyes upward, and there’s no mistaking the artificial sprig of leaves hanging innocently between them.
“Val,” Jon’s voice growls. Sansa’s eyes snap to his face. His dark eyes are glaring at her roommate, and Sansa is confused by Jon’s sudden anger. For some reason, Sansa thinks to earlier when Val reacted so strangely, but why those two things could be connected is beyond her grasp.
“Jon, it’s fine,” she murmurs. “It’s just a kiss.”
He tears his eyes away from Val to look at her. “You’re right,” he says, a pained smile gracing his lips. It makes her want to apologize to him, though for what she doesn’t know. She doesn’t dwell on it further, because in the next moment Jon steps forward and cradles her face in his hands gently, as if he is holding something precious. Her eyes flutter closed as he leans towards her. One peck, and it’ll be done. No big deal. When she feels his lips touch hers, it’s like a lightbulb clicks on in her brain.
Oh. Oh.
All thoughts escape her as her hands scramble for something to hold onto, and she ends up fisting the material of his sweater around his waist, the soft material a contrast to the slick plastic of the icicle she still holds in one hand. She needs to keep Jon tethered to her, she needs to feel more of the scratch of his beard on her chin, his hands stroking her reddening cheeks, his surprisingly soft lips pressed to hers. But to her dismay, he withdraws.
When Sansa opens her eyes, she sees that Jon is affected by their kiss just as much as she is. His eyes stare into hers with an intensity she’s never seen from him before. His pupils are blown wide, a thin sliver of gray barely visible. She wonders if hers are the same. Before she can spontaneously combust from his gaze, his focus turns to her lips, and he leans forward. Please kiss me again, she thinks desperately, but as if he hears her silent plea, Jon snaps out of his trance and stumbles out of her reach.
“I…” He looks wildly from Sansa to Val and Mya (They’re still here?), then back to Sansa. Without any warning, he turns and leaves Sansa standing stupidly in the doorway, the sound of his own door slamming shut echoing throughout the apartment. Sansa closes her eyes in mortification.
“Looks like someone didn’t want his cookies, after all,” Val mutters sarcastically.
You’re a coward, Sansa Stark, she thinks for the umpteenth time in the fortnight since The Mistletoe Incident. She’s been avoiding Jon. There’s been no more texting, no more carpooling, and definitely no more baking cookies. She briefly thinks of those last batch of cookies…which she left outside his door in a plastic container with an impersonal stickie note attached on the top.
An absolute coward.
It’s not like he’s reached out to you, either, Inner Arya points out. True. But Sansa is pretty sure of the reason, as Val revealed it to her minutes after TMI…
“He’s liked you for ages,” Val says bluntly.
“What? How do you even know this?”
For the first time she’s seen, Val looks uncomfortable. “It’s because he told me…during our date.”
Mya gasps. “You dated him?”
“It was just one date Freshman year!” Val shoots back defensively. “We were working together at Bael’s, I thought he was cute, and I asked him out.” Sansa tries to swallow down the surge of irrational jealousy going through her. But thinking of Jon and Val with their easygoing friendship…together…it hurts. Tears prickle at the corner of her eyes, and Sansa clenches her fists together to prevent herself from rubbing at them.
“What happened?” she asks, trying to sound nonchalant and oh so utterly failing at it.
Val sighs. “It was awkward as hell. He apologized and told me he was hung up over some girl from home. We decided we were better off as friends.” Her absolute sincerity eases the pain Sansa feels, and she can breathe easier. “It wasn’t until soon after I met you that I connected the dots.”
“I didn’t know,” is all she can say. How could she have? Before coming here, if she and Jon ever spoke to each other it was always awkward small talk. He always got along well with Robb or Arya more than her. But in retrospect, those looks he would sometimes give her when he thinks she wasn’t paying attention to him make a lot more sense now. She would look at him, too, though at the time she would have been adamant it wasn’t because she was interested.
“Well, now you do.” Yes, now she knows better. About him and about herself.
“Do you like him, Sansa?” Mya asks.
“I..” She thinks to deny it to them, but there’s no point, really. Not after them having front row seats to their not-so-platonic mistletoe kiss. “Yes,” she whispers. “I think I do.”
“Then tell him,” Val says. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Unfortunately, she’s been an idiot. And a coward. Has she mentioned that? And exhausted. Because on top of the drama over TMI and her stress over finals being around the corner, Sansa has been waking up earlier than usual so she can avoid accidentally bumping into Jon in the hallway or the parking lot. Which brings her back to her previous two points.
And now she’s moping in her room on a Thursday night, running her fingers over the icicle strand he pulled from her hair (yes, like a lovesick fool she’s kept it). She heaves a sigh. She misses Jon. She misses his soothing presence, before a wonderful, silly kiss revealed things for her. She misses his friendship.
But she wants more than friendship. She wants to kiss him again. She wants to go on a date with him. She thinks they could be great together, if they tried.
She’s done being scared. She’s going to be brave.
“Where are you going?” Mya asks cautiously from her perch on the couch.
Sansa finishes zipping her coat up, takes a deep breath, and smiles. “I’m going to Bael’s,” she announces calmly.
Mya’s responding grin is exuberant, her bright blue eyes twinkling. “Get him, girl!” she hoots.
She briefly notes how BAEL THE BARD’s signage has had a new coat of paint since she last visited before her eyes trail down to take a peek inside the pub’s frosty windows. Not a lot of people then. It’s what she was hoping for and expecting on a Thursday night. She strides confidently inside and straight up to the bar, where Jon is wiping it down.
“Hi,” she says to get his attention. Jon looks up at her and his movements cease.
“Hi,” he returns softly.
She takes in the circles under his eyes and his messier than usual bun and she knows she probably doesn’t fare any better. “Can we talk?”
He hesitates before answering, and he looks reluctantly at the few patrons sitting in booths or on stools, when another voice cuts in from beside her. “You can use Mance’s office. I’ve got things handled here.” It’s Val, and Sansa feels a surge of gratitude toward the other woman. She smiles at her, and Val shoots her a wink. They turn to Jon, who nods and gestures to Sansa to follow him. Sansa edges around the bar and trails behind Jon as they walk through the door in the back. The room they enter is quite small, barely big enough for the desk and computer it holds. She finds herself standing in Jon’s personal space when the door shuts behind them. Jon notices this, too, for he leans against the opposite wall to create more room.
She begins. “I’m sorry for avoiding you.”
He sighs and rubs a hand over his beard. “I’m sorry for avoiding you, too.”
“Val told me about your date.” Jon tenses. “She told me…how you have feelings for me?”
“Sansa, I – “
“It’s okay. I came here to tell you…I have feelings for you, too.” He lowers his hand slowly, looking at her in disbelief. She continues. “I didn’t think I did, I thought I saw you as just a friend, but when we kissed, well…” She laughs awkwardly and looks at her feet. “I can’t stop thinking about it, among other things.”
The room is silent save for their breathing. Why isn’t he saying anything? She’s almost too scared to look at him, to gauge his reaction. So much for being brave. Taking a deep breath, she manages to gaze at him through her lashes. He is staring at her with a look of awe on his face. Arya would probably call it dopey, but it makes her feel warm all over. She hopes he’ll never stop looking at her like that. “You liked my kiss?” he asks softly, his voice full of wonder.
Sansa clasps her hands together to keep from reaching out to him. “It was perfectly lovely.” She adds more quietly, “I didn’t want it to end.”
“Me neither,” Jon admits, and Sansa beams. He steps away from the wall, moving back into her orbit. He gives her a shy yet pleased smile. “So, after finals are over…can I take you on a date?”
“Yes, I’d love that.” She reaches for him then, enveloping him in a tight hug that he returns just as fiercely. “If I kiss you again,” she says into his shoulder, “will you run?”
She feels his rumbling laugh against her chest. “No, I’m through with being an idiot for now.”
“Me too.”
They move in sync, their lips meeting almost frantically, and Sansa’s happy sigh soon turns into a moan. She doesn’t know how long she and Jon stay in that cramped office, but when Val knocks on the door and yells at them to hurry it up, she figures it’s been a while. And if she tells Jon to ignore her for a few more extra minutes, who can blame her? Jon is a great kisser.