Work Text:
9:18 AM
Why had she put this off for so long? She’d kept telling herself there was time. She didn’t have to go just yet, she still had a month, a week, four days, two days. But it was inevitable, like death, time marching on, and now it was judgment day, and she had no choice. Sighing heavily, Arya adjusted the bag on her shoulder, pulled open the door and stepped into hell.
The DMV waiting room smelled like mildew and overripe fruit. A fluorescent light flickered erratically overhead, and the beige walls looked as if they hadn’t been cleaned since the Blackfyre rebellion, although someone had taped up a few lopsided red and pink construction paper hearts next to the torn posters on the dangers of drunk driving in recognition that it was Valentine’s Day.
The sad attempt at decoration did nothing to change the overall sense of doom that loomed over everything. A baby was crying fitfully and some jackass was watching a video on their phone at full volume. Without headphones. There were people everywhere, sitting in cracked, orange plastic chairs, leaning against the walls. Full volume video guy was sprawled out on the floor, his legs blocking the door to the only restroom.
Checking in at the desk, she took her ticket, D405, glanced up at the large flat screen at the front of the room (now serving D354) and turned to find somewhere to settle in for a long wait. Almost every chair in the room was full, save one, and Arya could immediately see why.
In the back corner, a dark haired man sat next to the one open chair, his large tattooed arms crossed across his equally large chest, a glare so surly on his face that she could almost feel the depth of his irritation from where she stood. He looked ready to stab anyone who sat next to him.
For half a moment, she considered finding a spot of floor to plop down on, but then a righteous indignation spread through her. Just who did he think he was anyway? Scaring people away from an open seat with his size and his ill-tempered looks. What gave him the right?
She stomped across the room and dropped into the open chair, ignoring the huff of annoyance that came from the man next to her. Rummaging through her bag, she pulled out her earbuds and a book, congratulating herself for having come prepared for the wait.
10:34 AM
Arya had glanced up periodically over the last hour to make sure she hadn’t missed her number up on the screen, (now serving D366) but had steadfastly ignored everything else in the room. The man next to her had shifted several times, crossing and uncrossing his legs, hunching his shoulders up and dropping them, rolling his head around to stretch his neck. Glancing at him surreptitiously as she stretched her arms, she couldn’t help but notice how broad he was, how tall to be folded into that tiny chair. He must be extraordinarily uncomfortable. And she realized with a sudden rush of heat as he briefly met her gaze, that he was not at all unattractive, his bright blue eyes a color unlike she’d ever seen.
Too bad he seemed like a grumpy ass.
11:28 AM
A loud, angry voice cut through her music, and she looked up from her book to see Cersei Lannister yelling at the thoroughly bored looking DMV employee behind the desk. Perking up, she pulled out her earbuds to see what the fuss was.
“-telling me that it’s going to be how long?! Do you have any idea who I am?” Cersei’s face was pinched in that expression that Arya had seen so many times over the years, like there was something rotten under her nose.
“Do you have any idea who he is?!” Cersei gestured beside her, where her son Joffrey was standing looking around distastefully at his surroundings.
“A self-righteous little pick who needs his ass kicked,” Arya muttered under her breath.
Beside her, the man snorted loudly, and Arya’s eyes snapped to him in surprise.
“Sorry,” he said, turning his head to meet her gaze. “It’s just- I agree. A lot. Joffrey’s a complete fuckwit.”
She grinned at him, delighted to see the disgust on his face as he watched the display in front of them.
“Ma’am, I don’t care if he’s the king,” the DMV worker replied flatly. “He has to wait just like everyone else. Your number is D436, and right now we’re on D378, so there are quite a few of these nice, patient people in front of you.”
Joffrey scoffed loudly. “Mother,” he said in a petulant tone, “can’t you do something about this? It’s Valentine’s Day, and I have a date tonight. I can’t wait here all day.This is just ridiculous. They can’t actually expect me to wait here with...these people.”
Cersei turned to her son and cooed. “No, my darling, of course not. We’ll speak to your grandfather about this. He’ll take care of it.” She looked back at the worker. “Maybe Ms. Rivers here will reconsider her attitude after she’s been fired,” she said cattily.
The man beside her huffed, and she turned to see him rolling his eyes as Cersei’s words. “What a bitch,” he said, glancing at her and grinning when she nodded in agreement.
At the front of the room, the DMV worker drew herself up and fixed Cersei with a piercing glare. “If you don’t care to wait, ma’am, you’re welcome to come back on Monday,” she said in a tone that was clearly meant to say “fuck you, lady,” but she smiled blandly. “We open at eight.”
Cersei turned to her son, and after a brief whispered conversation, she tore up her ticket and theatrically dropped the pieces to the counter in front of the worker, who just stared at her.
“Come, Joffrey, my love,” she said. “We’ll deal with this nonsense some other time.”
As they turned to go, Cersei’s gaze fell on Arya and she gave a small nod of acknowledgement, but then her eyes slid to the man beside her. Cersei stopped, her nostrils flared, and her eyes narrowed, an expression of extreme loathing on her face.
Intrigued, Arya glanced at the man and then back to Cersei and Joffrey, her eyes darting between them. For several seconds, the three of them glared at each other, and then Joffrey spoke loudly. “Come, mother, we do not belong here with such people as the likes of him .”
Arya watched them go before turning back to the man beside her, curiosity overwhelming her as to who he was. Anyone who Cersei clearly hated that much had to be someone worth knowing.
But the stony expression on his face stopped her. Whoever he was to Cersei and Joffrey, he was clearly unhappy about having seen them. So she didn’t say anything, but turned back to her book, her earbuds forgotten.
12:14 PM
A loud rumbling sound from beside her caught her attention, and she glanced over to see the man press a hand against his stomach, an embarrassed expression on his face as his eyes met hers. Wordlessly, she bent down to dig around in her bag. Pulling out an energy bar, she held it out to him.
He stared. She stared back. He stared some more.
Arya waved it at him. “Well?” she asked. “Take it.”
“I don’t want your food,” he said shortly, and his stomach rumbled again.
“Really?” She cocked an eyebrow at him, and his face flushed. “Because it seems to me that you do.”
He shook his head. “I don’t- That’s yours,” he protested.
“It’s okay,” she said, lifting her bag and opening it to show him the collection of energy bars, bottled waters, and the various bags of nuts she’d brought with her. “I came prepared. Knew I was going to be here a while.”
She glanced at the screen. (Now serving D384.)
He blinked. “Oh.”
“So take it. Unless you’d rather have some almonds,” she said, pulling out a pack. “Or both if you want. Doesn’t matter to me.”
He stared at her again, then hesitantly reached out for the bag of nuts in her hand. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
“No problem,” she said, grabbing a bottle of water and holding it out.
The man took it, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a smile, and her stomach fluttered when his fingertips brushed hers.
1:08 PM
“May I have your attention please? May I have your attention please?” The loudspeaker crackled overhead. “Due to a server issue, our computers are not functioning at this time.”
Loud groans erupted throughout the room, and Arya looked up at the screen. It was black.
“We are working to restore service as quickly as possible. Thank you for your patience.”
“Shit,” the man said quietly, pulling out his phone then immediately setting it down on his lap. “Shit,” he repeated, more frustrated the second time.
Arya looked over to see a thoroughly annoyed expression on his face. “Is everything okay?” she asked softly.
“No,” he said. “I’m gonna have to call in to work, but my phone’s dead. Forgot to plug it in last night.”
She pulled out her own phone and handed it to him. “Here.”
He stared at her, his face slightly bewildered as his eyes darted between her face and the phone in her outstretched hand.
“Make your phone call,” she said, rolling her eyes at him.
He took it cautiously, dialed a number, and had a brief, quiet conversation with someone called Mott before handing it back to her, a small smile on his lips.
“Thanks,” he said, his eyes meeting hers, and she suddenly felt oddly giddy at the look on his face.
“That’s twice now,” she said with a smirk. “Do you want to charge your phone?” she asked, reaching into her bag and pulling out a portable charger.
He blinked at her, but took it. “You really did come prepared, didn’t you?” he said.
She shrugged. “I’ve been putting this off for months, but my license expires today, and I’m flying to Braavos in two days. I have to have a current ID to get on the plane, so I can’t just leave,” she told him. “I figured it was my own fault for waiting so long, so I should just make the best of it.”
His eyebrows raised as he looked at her in amusement. “What else you got in there?” he asked, nodding at her oversized bag.
“Let’s see,” she said, pulling things out and handing them to him. “I’ve got two more novels, a book of crossword puzzles, a box of granola bars, a sketchbook and a bunch of colored pencils, my little brother’s Switch along with four different games, and a half-assed attempt at crocheting.”
She plopped the bag holding the crochet hooks, pale blue yarn, and the two crooked lines of baby blanket for Uncle Edmure’s now three year old son on top of Rickon’s carrying case for his Switch. “I don’t know why I even bothered bringing that though. I haven’t touched it in two and a half years. Was I suddenly going to get inspiration to finish it from this?” She gestured to the room around her, and he laughed, his eyes crinkling up when he did.
She reached out to take back the box of granola bars, tearing it open and holding it out to him, smiling when he took one.
“Well, I suppose that’s better than what I brought,” he said as he ripped open the paper and took a bite. “A dead phone and nothing else.”
“Do you like crossword puzzles?” she asked, extracting it from the stack of things she’d placed on his lap and holding it out.
He shrugged, but took it and the pencil that she dug out of her bag.
2:36 PM
“May I have your attention please? May I have your attention please? We are still working to restore service to our computers. Thank you for your patience.”
Arya groaned.
“Do you know what number they were on before the computers went down?” she asked, turning to the man beside her.
“Um, maybe 390?” he said.
She bit her lip. “Fuck. If I don’t get this done today, I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she said.
He looked at her, his face concerned. “Well, let’s just hope they get the computers back up soon. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“Yeah,” she said, trying to reassure herself. “It’ll be all right.”
“In the meantime, do you know a Dornish queen, seven letters? Starts with N?” he asked, looking down at the crossword puzzle in his lap.
“Nymeria,” she said instantly, leaning over to see where he was pointing. “Do you need help with any more clues?”
3:45 PM
“May I have your attention please? May I have your attention please?”
Arya glanced up from the crossword puzzle they had been working on, suddenly realizing just how close they’d gotten, his head only inches from hers.
“Thank you for your patience. Our server issue has been resolved and we will resume normal operations momentarily.”
She let out a sigh of relief as the screen at the front of the room flickered to life. (Now serving D392)
He grinned at her, his bright blue eyes shining, and her stomach swooped. “Shouldn’t be too long now.”
She stared at him, her gaze flicking to his lips for half a moment before leaning back in to read the next clue, trying to ignore the way her stomach clenched at the feel of his arm pressed against hers.
4:36 PM
She kept glancing nervously at the clock, at the screen at the front of the room. (Now serving D399.)
“Do they see everyone who’s here, or do they just cut people off at 5:00, do you know?” she asked.
He looked up at the clock. “I don’t know,” he said, frowning. “What number do you have?”
“D405.”
“Hmm. Maybe they’ll move faster now that it’s the end of the day.”
“Maybe,” she said dubiously.
“Come on,” he said, drawing her attention back to the puzzle in front of them. “What’s the High Valyrian word for dragon fire?”
4:56 PM
Her foot was tapping against the floor, her eyes glued to the screen. (Now serving D402). She wasn’t going to make it. Gods, she was an idiot. Why had she put this off for so long? Why hadn’t she been outside the door first thing this morning?
She was going to have to push her flight back. Her mother was going to kill her. She’d been nagging her to do this for months. Talea and Brea were going to be annoyed, her carelessness cutting their already short visit down to even fewer days. All because she couldn’t be bothered to make an effort.
A small ding echoed through the room, and the screen flashed. (Now serving D403.) She groaned, burying her face in her hands.
“Here,” his voice cut through her despair, and she turned to see him holding out his ticket. D403.
She looked at him in confusion. “What?”
“Take it,” he said, holding his hand out.
“But- You’ve been here all day.”
“So have you.”
She blinked at him. “But it’s yours.”
He reached out and took her hand, pressing the piece of paper into it. “Now it’s yours.”
“But-”
He cut her off. “Look, I still have a month and a half before I have to get this done. I can come back. From what you said earlier, I’m assuming that if you don’t get this done today, you’re kind of screwed, right?”
She nodded.
“So take it.”
The ding echoed again, the screen blinking a warning. (Now serving D403.)
She stared at him for a moment, then grabbed her bag and stood.
“Thank you,” she said weakly, but she didn’t move.
“You’d better go,” he said, nodding at the screen. “I don’t think they’ll call another number.”
“I- Thank you,” she said, and she turned, moving across the room to hand DMV worker Rivers her ticket.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him look back at her and smile as he pushed the door open to leave, and she was left feeling strangely empty as she watched him disappear, the door closing behind him.
5:23 PM
The sky was dark and the parking lot almost empty when she finally exited the building, but she’d done it. Her updated ID would let her board the plane, and she’d soon be off for a week’s visit with her former roommates, something she’d been looking forward to for months.
And yet somehow, there was an odd sense of disappointment that had settled in her chest. Sighing heavily, she shouldered her bag and took off across the lot toward her car. She’d just pressed the button on her key ring, her car chirping as it unlocked the doors when his voice cut through the dark from behind her.
“Did you get it then?” She shrieked in surprise, whirling around to see him leaning against a motorcycle, looking entirely too much like the kind of man her mother always warned her about.
“Fuck, you scared me,” she said, her hand pressed against her chest, her heart racing, but she wasn’t sure if it was because he’d startled her so or because he seemed to have been waiting for her. The thought filled her with a kind of terrifying thrill.
“Sorry,” he said, looking down and kicking his toe against the ground. “I just- I wanted to make sure you got what you needed.”
“Yeah, I did,” she said softly. “Thank you.”
“Good.” He glanced up at her, then quickly looked back down. “Would you-” He cut himself off.
She waited for him to continue, but he stayed quiet, his gaze on the ground.
“Would I what?”
He looked up at her, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “Would you want to get a drink with me? Or dinner? Or-” He cut himself off again.
Arya blinked at him. “It’s Valentine’s Day,” she said confused. Surely he had someone waiting for him.
He flushed. “Oh, yeah. Of course,” he stammered. “I’m sure you’ve got plans. Sorry, I’ll just-” He cut himself off and turned to climb on his motorcycle.
“No!” she exclaimed, and he froze before slowly turning back to face her. “I don’t,” she said. “Have plans, that is.”
“Oh.”
They stared at each other.
“You don’t have plans?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Oh.”
They stared at each other some more.
“Yes,” she said.
“Yes?”
“Yes, I’ll have that drink with you. Or dinner. Or both. Whichever you’d prefer.”
“Oh. Good.”
They were certainly staring at each other a lot.
“I’m Arya.”
“I’m Gendry.”
“You got another helmet?”
He blinked at her, frowned, then shook his head, disappointment in his eyes.
Arya gazed at him for a moment, then turned to open her trunk, drawing out a bright blue motorcycle helmet and grinning at the look on his face.
“So,” she said, pulling it on and tilting her head quizzically as she buckled it under her chin, somehow not really caring what his answer would be. “Where are we going?”