Work Text:
“Does this sound awkward?” Arya asked, whirling around in her chair towards her bed. Her eyes landed on her best friend of over 10 years, working on his own assigments with a laptop propped to his lap as he was leaning against the wall. Gendry looked up from his work slowly after tapping at the keyboard a few more times, then closing the lid of the computer ever so slightly.
“Let me see.” Gendry said, holding out his hand – they’d done this a million times before.
Arya had always loved writing – in her angst-ridden teenage years it was her way to escape and to express herself, and it had become a dear hobby of hers to her late teens and young adult years. It had landed her a spot in college in the creative writing program – and it had consumed her life ever since.
Gendry Waters was her best friend – and the only person outside her program who had ever read her unfinished work. Sure, she had let Robb peek at her work and sometimes she even had written little Bran and Rickon some night time stories when they were younger, but her writing still in progress was sacred, not even Sansa or Jon had had the priviledge of reading it. Only Gendry was different. She had sworn she’d never let anyone read her unfinished writing, but almost two years back Gendry had made her break that promise – he had been chewing her on and on about submitting her work to a writing competition, where Arya had been torn between two short stories she had been working on; finally, Gendry had made that decision for her, praising her stories but getting incredibly attached to the second one. Arya had been absolutely horrified to let Gendry read her little period romance – yet amazingly, Gendry had nothing but kind words on it, from then on acting as Arya’s betareader for anything she was working on. He’d been the one to read her college essays and approving the one that landed her in the writing program.
Arya took her laptop, handing it over to Gendry, who put his own computer to his side. Arya folded her hands to her lap, her feet tapping anxiously at the soft carpet under her feet. Steel eyes were focused on Gendry, analyzing his reactions like she’d always done ever since the first time she let him read her work. His face was familiar; he was familiar. Looking at Gendry was comforting, it made her grounded, slowly the nervous jitters easing. Her eyes settled onto the bridge of his nose, as his head was tillted slightly downwards, creating stronger shadows under his brow and eyes, the slight cupid’s bow creating a shadow as he smiled at something in the text. Arya quirked at her brow expectantly as Gendry looked up from the screen, handing her laptop back.
“I think it’s good.” Gendry started, carefully weighing his words as his gaze traveled up from her hands to Arya’s eyes. “I don’t see the akwardness. I mean, it’s… Isn’t that kind of part of the character?”
“I guess, yeah. But it’s like… Not her actions that are awkward, do you think the text is awkward? Did I use the word “sea” too many times? Do you get what it’s implying by comparing his presence to the sea?” Arya asked, her eyes dropping from Gendry’s eyes to her computer screen, eyes skipping over the text littered with sea-related metaphors.
“Isn’t it about him being calm but, you know, destructive to those around him?” Gendry asked as he slowly slid his own computer back to his lap, about to get back to his own work.
“Okay, so you got it. Goooood. Good, good, good.” Arya mumbled, pausing for a moment and starting at her text with pensive look.
“Arya, trust me. It’s amazing. Not akward at all. Or repeatitive.” Gendry said, snapping Arya out of her thoughts. Arya gave him a quick smile, then whirling around in her chair and getting back to her work, soon a familiar tapping of two keyboards filling the otherwise quiet room.
The silence didn’t last too long, though, as Gendry’s phone started buzzing next to him. Arya didn’t notice it, really, so focused on her own work, but Gendry yanked her off of her thoughts.
“Lommy’s having a party tomorrow.” Gendry started, and Arya could feel his eyes burning at the back of her neck. Yet when she turned around, he shifted his gaze to his phone.
“Cool. Are you going to go?” Arya asked, looking at him over her shoulder, tucking the brown strands of hair behind her ear. Gendry looked back at her, shrugging.
“I don’t know. Not sure who’ll be there, and I don’t feel like pretending I’m not too drunk to do small talk.” Gendry said, then setting his phone to his side, looking at Arya now, somehow more intense, blue eyes boring into her. “I’ll go if you do.”
Arya sighed, turning away from Gendry, looking at her own screen, trying to let the work swallow her whole again. “Nah. I don’t feel like it.”
She heard Gendry sigh, the quiet tapping of the keyboard starting again. “Then I won’t go.”
“Come on, you’re a big boy, you don’t need me to be your chaperon.” Arya remarked, then biting her lip as she tried to hold her tongue – with no success. “Take the girl you met at orientation. What was her name, Bella? The dark-haired one.”
The suggestion alone stung – a lot. But Arya didn’t have much choice.
She had known Gendry since they were in elementary school – he was a year older, but he had joined their class in fourth grade when he had been held back a year. They had been friends ever since the first time they met, their friendship just clicking into place like a missing piece of puzzle; it was always easy, effortless to be with Gendry. He reminded Arya of Jon; Gendry was protective, but more often than not got too lost into his own brooding ways. He was hotheaded and had a serious attitude, that might’ve been the reason he was helf back in elementary school – well, that and his dyslexia that the school couldn’t offer support to.
For years, they had been best friends, no complications, no big fights, nothing. They grew up together, sharing their embarassing moments over 3am calls and meeting up after school to play football or just to hang out with a couple of their other friends.
Then, it all changed – it was a slow change, at that. Arya found herself looking at Gendry a little bit too long, and suddenly the heroes of her stories had blue eyes with jet-black hair and calloused hands. They were hotheaded and kind and stupid. Two years ago, Arya finally realized her feelings – they were 16 and 17, when Arya was fretting over Gendry reading her unfinished work for the first time ever, and when she sat next to him on her childhood bed with the summer wind tangling into their hair and the soft echo of music coming from Sansa’s room, Arya had felt her whole world collapse. Her heart swelled with the realization that this is what she wanted – Gendry, next to her, Gendry as her trusted partner, Gendry as hers.
After that, Arya had been careful – she didn’t want to ruin their friendship. She remembered years ago, when they were going to middle school, nervous about the familiar faces being changed with unfamiliar ones, Gendry announced that she was something like a sister to him – to comfort her on the thought that he’d always be by her side, whatever life threw at them. Yet the thought alone made her cringe. And that’s what she was stuck as – something like a sister, a best friend of almost 10 years. There was no escaping that without hurting someone in the progress.
It got harder when they moved to college, though – both of them attended the College of King’s Landing, Gendry majoring in engineering and Arya in literature. They had made sure that they ended up staying in the same dorm building, just a floor between them so most days after their lectures they met up in the other’s room – most of the time in Arya’s, as Gendry’s room was slightly smaller and faced an construction site. So, as they were spending more and more time together, acting a little bit more domestic; getting groceries together in Gendry’s beat-down car he got from Davos and meeting up to do homework and Gendry judging her writing, it was that much harder to not fall even harder for him.
The autumn was slowly turning into winter, when Arya was hit with the realization that she was falling more and more for Gendry, her feelings painstakingly deep and built on years of trust and truly knowing him – knowing that stage where he had an awkward growth spurt and for some time his limbs just didn’t quite fit his movements and he ended up breaking his mom’s favourite mug or the time she dared him to text his seventh-grade crush during a game of truth or dare, when he was too shy to make a move himself.
That’s when Arya knew she had to put an end to it – she figured that seeing him with someone else would hurt just enough to let the feelings cool down; and he’d split his time between school, Arya and his partner, so it would give Arya to mend her broken heart.
Sadly, Gendry was very bullheaded on the topic; it wasn’t one or two students Arya had tried to set him up with, dropping suggestive comments about that one dude in the world history class and the orientation week gorgeus girl that had spilled water on Gendry totally not on accident. Yet, Gendry was having none of it; he kept insisting he was too busy to date anyone, and he preferred to be alone – well, with his friends, alone, but still. He refused any romantic partners and got upset enough for Arya to buy him a dinner when she uploaded Tinder to his phone.
But to his demise, Arya was just as stubborn, if not more. So she kept suggesting little dates and get-togethers, only to get annoyed when Gendry asked her (mockingly speaking in her voice) if she’d go get coffee with Ned, the boy in her study group in her Dornish Classics-course.
So, needless to say, another one of Arya’s clever suggestions for Gendry to go to the party with Bella did not go well.
“Gods, when will you realize I’m not interested in her? If you’re so interested in her, why don’t you date her, sheesh.” Gendry’s voice was laced with annoyance, that made Arya roll her eyes to her computer screen.
“She’s not my type.”
“Then who is your type? Those blue-eyed blondes you keep writing about?” Gendry sighed exasperated, and immediately Arya felt her ears burn red. After she was made aware by Sansa of all people that the heroes in her great love stories all had blue eyes and black hair, Arya had to make some last-minute changes to, well, all of her works, and she had settled on blonde-haired love interests. It was just far enough from Gendry’s looks to not be suspicious, just looking like a regular author writing her type in each love interest. Arya was so in her thoughts that Gendry’s next, smug announcement made her choke on air and whip around in her chair to face his arrogant smirk. “Oh, wait. Isn’t that, well, the exact description of one Ned Dayne?”
Arya genuinely didn’t know what to say – she needed to tell Gendry off, but on the other hand if Gendry would start asking questions, she didn’t know what to answer. Good thing was that she didn’t have to answer, as Gendry continued, staring straight at her, now the smug grin gone, something like annoyance settling in his eyes as he thought that maybe he hit the bull’s eye with his assumption.
“I know Ned’s number, I can just ask him to come too. You could go together, shoot your shot with him.” With that, Gendry grabbed his phone and unlocked it as Arya stared at him, frozen. Gendry’s brow was furrowed and he looked annoyed, something bitter simmering behind his eyes.
“Put the phone down.” Arya commanded increasingly annoyed, getting no reaction from Gendry. Then, as she saw the boy open the messaging app, she lunged at him. Gendry let out a yelp as Arya landed to his side, trying to grab his phone from his hand. Arya planted a soft blow with her elbow to Gendry’s ribs, making the taller one howl in annoyance and mild discomfort of 155 centimeters of a feral college student trying to get him to give up his phone.
“What’s your fucking damage?” Gendry barked, using his other hand to push Arya back and the other to raise his phone over her head. “C’mon, you’re like a 8-year-old having their first crush.” Gendry tried to annoy Arya – and succeeding at it. For a few more seconds they play-wrestled for the phone, elbowing each other and trying to get the other one to give up, until Arya finally got a hold of the cursed phone, only for Gendry to slap it off of her hand and it dropping to the ground. Arya was about to leap for it– honestly she didn’t know why, though – when Gendry burst out laughing, grabbing at her arm so she didn’t fall off the edge of the single-person bed. Gendry withdrew to sit against the wall again, carefully putting his laptop to the side, balancing it on the several thick books on the night stand. Arya sat on the bed, cross-legged, facing Gendry as she tried to calm her breath, her face red and hair mushed from the play-fighting.
“Okay, real talk, Arry.” Gendry breathed, his voice lower now, as he looked at her under his brow, seemingly trying to calculate if she was going to lunge at him again. “Why are you so keen on not seeing Ned? Or, like, anyone? Not date-type of see either, you barely go anywhere outside classes.”
“False. I do go get coffee. And lunch. And we were just out last week in that party.” Arya noted, shaking her head.
“Yeah, with me. I mean, not that I don’t enjoy your company, I ---- Uh.” Gendry tripped over his own words, pinching the bridge of his nose as he collected his thoughts. “Don’t take this the wrong way. You keep writing all these stories about like… Love that makes the flowers in the meadow bloom and like, soulmates bound by fate but then you’ve guarded yourself completely.” Gendry said, and as he opened his clear blue eyes, Arya felt like she had been kicked in the stomach. She could feel the tips of hear ears burning up, as she tried to come up with an excuse, something to blame everything on – childhood trauma, past relationships, but came up empty.
“When are you going to stop writing about it and finally live?” Gendry’s voice was now more vulnerable, as his own gaze evaded Arya’s just long enough for her to notice, before the blue eyes met the steel ones. “And it doesn’t have to be Ned, if you … Don’t like him. Or whatever. It’s just – you’re great, and nobody else knows how great you are when you’re just stuck in this dorm room with me.”
Arya sucked in a breath, biting the inside of her cheek as she carefully weighed her words. “It’s not wasted on you.”
Suddenly Arya was so very aware of Gendry. How his eyes were curious yet taken aback, the deep blue irises fixating on Arya’s face; his eyes jumped between her eyes, as his mouth fell open just the slightest bit – he was looking for words that weren’t there. Arya could feel her knee pressed slightly to his outstretched leg, just barely touching. But then, she was made so much more aware of the soft pressure as hesitantly, Gendry extended his arm to Arya’s side of the bed, leaning towards her the tiniest bit. Arya could see the gears in his head turning, as he tried to read Arya’s expression – cheeks painted rosy, eyes on his. Arya’s fingertips were pressed tightly against her own thigh, as she wrecked her brain trying to think what all of this meant – the silence stretched, as both waited for the other to make the first move; to evade the situation, to pull back.
Yet neither did.
Arya was super aware of everything around her – the sound of someone speaking on the outside, late autumn wind rustling the almost leafless branches. The soft sound of two computers whirring and the fabric of her bed sheet. And most of all – she was so very close to Gendry, his warmth radiating in the slightly chilly room, the sound of slow, calculated breaths, how the early evening sunlight catching on the small scar on his cheekbone he got when he fell from the tree house they built as kids.
He was so close, and he’d been there before – but not like this, eyes intense yet anxious, very aware that he was in her space.
Then, finally, one of them moved – Gendry, as he leaned more towards her, close enough for her to smell his shampoo, his familiar scent and coffee on his breath.
“Can I kiss you?” his voice was merely more than a whisper, so scared words would break the delicate glass bubble around them, both completely lost in the world where there just them and the space between them.
“Please-” Arya could hardly finish as Gendry finally, finally closed the space between them, his mouth on hers.
It wasn’t a long kiss, per se, but it seemed to last both a lifetime and barely a second. Gendry tasted like black coffee, as he kissed her with hesitance and desperation. Arya felt his hand that was resting on the bed beside her move just slightly closer to her, as Gendry tried to find balance.
Suddenly, Arya felt her teeth hit against Gendry’s with the awkwardness of any first kiss – she tried to stiffle the low, husky laugh escaping her throat against the ever so short yet so long kiss, but it still threw them both off. Gendry pulled back slowly, and for a second or two, Arya couldn’t quite open her eyes – she was scared that if she opened them, she’d realize it had all been a dream.
Yet when she opened her lids, Gendry was still there – his body shadowing hers, his face red and eyes glossy behind the confused shock painting his expression.
“I--- I’m sorry, did I read this whole thing wrong, I-” he stammered, now clearly panicking as he withdrew his hand from her side, as if it’d been burned.
Arya knew, in that moment, that she had two options – she could walk away from this, lie that he read the situation wrong, ask them to just be friends. Nothing ruined, no hearts broken.
Or, the much more tempting option: she could make sure he knew he absolutely did not read the situation wrong.
And in that moment as Gendry was withdrawing his hand, panicking and trying to put up the wall between them that had kept Arya quiet for years now, Arya decided that she would not let Gendry hide behind the pretense of “friends” anymore.
With a sharp but gentle touch she stopped his hand, her fingers against the skin on his wrist that felt hot to touch.
“You didn’t.” Arya mumbled, trying to clear her voice just a bit to make clear sounds, her eyes huge and filled with years of pining suddenly washing away with the warmth of a first kiss. “I don’t want anyone else. Never wanted.”
Arya wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline rushing through her veins or the confession giving her the courage to do the thing she had written about so many times before, but finally she gave in. Arya tugged at Gendry’s wrist the slightest to wake him from the stupor that the situation had put the poor boy in, and she pressed a kiss against her lips – slow, gentle, full of feelings of two years; all the jealousy, pining, loneliness and hope. Yet now, it seemed that the hope was what was shining through, and for a moment she let herself be sunken in the light, airy feeling of love and hope and absolute trust.
Arya couldn’t help a smile springing to her lips as she felt Gendry kissing her back, her lips curling against his as his hand wandered to her arm to keep her close and grounded. Arya was sure her heart would burst out of her chest and for the shortest moment she felt the anxiety was over her; what did this mean to them, their friendship, their shared memories and future? But as she felt Gendry let out a broken sigh against her lips as he withdrew just for the second before coming back and letting his hand rise to her burning cheek, Arya let herself let go of the worry for a while – maybe it was time to start living her storybooks of wild girls with golden flower crowns and black-haired heroes with eyes welcoming as the summer sea, after all.