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He’d gone off early to hunt, hoping to find something for them to eat. No luck with his bow or snares but he had found some berries and root vegetables. They’ll suffice.
When he returns to the abandoned hovel they’ve been staying in the past few days, he expects to find Sansa still sound asleep.
She’s not.
“Don’t do that again!”
“Do what?” he asks, laying down his burdens and preparing to wash at the bowl she’s declared is for washing.
Jon’s never been much for washing until he stole his princess. Right out from under the noses of the Crows at the Wall and her lord father, Jon stole Lady Sansa Stark and she’s completely made him her captive ever since whilst educating him how imperative it is to wash. Since they lie close together each night when they sleep, since Sansa allows him to hold her close ‘for warmth’ she says, he happily washes three times a day to please her.
“You left this morning and didn’t tell me!”
“I go off every morning without telling you.” To hunt, to take a piss or to ease the ache waking up beside you leaves me with. “You’ve always been asleep when I return.”
“I’ve been frantic with worry and…what if you got lost?!”
What if he got lost? Him? Who’s lived beyond the Wall nearly all his life?
“I won’t get lost.” His lips twitch and he wants to laugh.
Her blue eyes narrow dangerously and he’d be a fool to laugh.
He’s a fool. He laughs.
“It’s not funny!” she says, stamping her foot and looking so irresistible he can barely stand it. “What would happen to me if something happened to you?!”
He sobers at the fear underlying her anger. She’s afraid of something happening to him. Is that fear for herself alone or something more? He’s beginning to think it may be something more. It is for him. If something happened to her…he doesn’t even like to think of it.
“I won’t get lost, princess.”
“Don’t call me-“
“Princess. Yeah, I know.” She’s warned him about that more than once. Except now she’s usually grinning when she corrects him.
Speaking of grinning, he still is as she starts fussing under her breath whilst looking through the food he’s brought. Jon would just eat the berries and the vegetables raw but Sansa will attempt to make it more palatable somehow. Her efforts are not always a success but he appreciates them. It’s better than a raw onion and potato.
“I’d call you wife if I could. You scold me like one and I happily let you.”
She straightens just as he realizes he’s said that aloud. Gods, what was he thinking?! She’s bound to be angry now and might not speak to him the rest of the day.
When she turns around, his whole face feels like he’s been sitting too close to the fire but there’s no anger in her voice when she asks, “What did you say?”
“I…uh…”
She’s biting at those plump lips of hers in an attempt to stop from laughing. He tells her to go ahead and laugh if she likes. It’s only fair and he won’t take back the words he said. They were true.
Instead of laughing, she darts forward and kisses him, right on the mouth. Aye, she’s kissed his cheek a time or two but she’s never done that before.
It’s over quicker than a blink. He didn’t even have a chance to properly savor that kiss. He itches to kiss her back. In fact, his hands are already reaching for her waist, intent on dragging her up against him and kissing her for all he’s worth.
But she spins resolutely back around and returns her attention to food he’s brought, her shoulders drawn up. There’s a heaviness in the air between them, a tension that feels sure to break before long. Maybe not this morning but soon. He can be patient.
He washes like Sansa wants him to, thinking back over that kiss, and waits to see what she’ll do with their meager feast.
“You haven’t lost me,” he says quietly to her back. “You never will.”
She nods though she’s not found the courage to face him again yet. She will. “Tell me next time before you go. I don’t care if you have to wake me to do it.”
“I will,” he promises.