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By no means did Jon consider himself to be a mixologist. There are people who studied that craft seriously; who went to bartending schools specifically for that and worked years to perfect the skill. Jon just stood behind the bar, knowing how to pour and mix the drinks someone else had already created.
But, he admitted. He did like to play around sometimes.
A little bit of this; a little bit of that. Tuesday nights had become insanely busy for them. Jon had taken Castle Black Bar’s slowest night and made it their most profitable – even more profitable than a Friday or Saturday night, which were usually the go-to nights for bars and drinking.
Every Tuesday, Jon showed old VH1 shows – Flavor of Love, Rock of Love, I Love New York and Charm School. Profits for that night just about quadrupled and the crowd at the bar was at least three or four people deep. Other bars in Winterfell tried to copy Castle Black Bar’s success and at first, Jon freaked that they were going to steal all of his customers. But for the most part, everyone seemed to want to come to the home of the original VH1 night.
When Jeor Mormont passed away and he had left Jon the money for him to open his own bar, there had been some rules that Jon always stuck to.
No special cocktail nights, no ladies’ nights and no karaoke nights.
Jon had never had ladies’ nights or karaoke nights (and Jon didn’t consider the private karaoke nights he had for just his friends went against that). But special cocktail night… Jon couldn’t help it. He had learned everything about this bar business from Jeor Mormont. The man had been his mentor and for the most part, Jon still thought of what the man would say before he made any kind of decision in regards to his bar.
But Classic VH1 Night at Castle Black Bar every Tuesday was a little different. Besides, he wasn’t a professional mixologist so him making up a special drink to feature every Tuesday night didn’t really count.
Sansa was his taste tester. Jon would crowd their dining room table up in their flat above the bar and her dress shop next door with all sorts of liquor bottles and he would pour this and that, shake and mix; play around and figure it out. And when he thought he had something, he’d pour it into some kind of glass and find his wife somewhere – either in the living room or in the kitchen or in their bedroom.
“Captain Morgan, rum, and pineapple juice.” He said, handing her the glass and Sansa sat up a little bit, smiling at him before taking a sip.
“Very good,” she said. “The color though… do something about the color. It looks too much like brown water.”
Jon nodded and taking the glass, he returned to the dining room, returning a few minutes later. “Blue curacao syrup,” he said, handing her back the glass so she could take another sip. The way her eyes lit up made Jon think he might have to keep this drink permanently on the menu.
The next week, “Fresh strawberry juice and vodka.”
“Just have a big bowl of this at my birthday this year,” Sansa said after her first sip.
He knew Sansa wasn’t a fan of gin – at all and in fact, she almost always gagged when taking even a sip – but he played around with those bottles, too, because he did have gin drinkers in his bar and Sansa always tried his drinks – no matter what; though with the gin ones, she did her best to not wrinkle her nose too much.
“Tanqueray Gin, lime juice, blackberry syrup.”
“It’s a pretty color at least,” Sansa commented before taking the smallest sip and with a nod, she gave him back the glass and as Jon left again, he heard her give a cough.
The next week, Sansa was in the kitchen, standing at the calendar they had hanging on the side of the refrigerator, and she seemed to be counting weeks.
“Something a little different this week. Smirnoff vodka, Bailey’s Irish Cream and a splash of half and half.”
Sansa looked at the glass and visibly hesitated.
“No gin in this one.”
“I heard,” she nodded. “It’s looks beautiful,” she then commented and Jon smiled proudly. Slowly, she took the glass and took a small sip. “That’s really good, Jon. Really good. I’m tempted to have the entire glass.”
Jon smiled and leaned in, giving her a kiss. “It’s all yours.”
He left the kitchen to go clean up the dining room and didn’t see that Sansa slid the glass onto the counter and didn’t touch it for the rest of the evening.
The next week, Sansa was in their bedroom, sitting up on their bed with her sketchbook open in front of her. She had a few cloth scrap samples with her – mostly blues and pinks.
“I feel like I don’t play around enough with bourbon,” Jon said, coming into the room and sitting down next to her on the edge of the bed. “Bourbon, blueberry syrup, lime juice and I slapped some mint leaves. You have to have bourbon and mint together.”
Again, Sansa hesitated. She sat up, hugging her sketchbook to her chest.
“I thought you would like the color,” he said. He was always aware of how “pretty” Sansa wanted her drinks.
Sansa was looking at the drink and at his words, she lifted her eyes to him. “I love the color, Jon,” she smiled. “I’m just not able to drink this one. Or any other one you come up from now on.”
Jon began to frown. “Are they getting worse?” He wondered. “Should I stop? I should stop, shouldn’t I?”
Customers seemed to love his special Tuesday night drink, but maybe they were just being nice; or maybe they were just drunk and he couldn’t necessarily believe their opinion. He trusted his wife’s opinion more than anyone else’s and he had fun making up his own drinks and mixing things together, but if they were truly that awful, he wouldn’t do it anymore.
Sansa looked at him and smiled. “Your drinks are wonderful and I was serious about that strawberry and vodka drink. In about a year, I expect a whole punch bowl of it.”
“A year? But your birthday’s in two months.” He felt the need to remind her because she had obviously forgotten that. She didn’t have to wait a year for that drink. Hell, he’d mix a glass for her right now.
She was looking at him and it seemed like she was about to laugh. For what reason though, he had no idea.
Sansa didn’t say anything. Instead, she pulled her sketchbook away from her chest and turned it around so Jon could see what she had been sketching. He looked at her drawings closely, trying to figure out what she wanted him to look at it. Sansa had just had her spring show so he assumed she was already working on her line for the fall season.
But he didn’t see her usual dresses of ruffles and ribbons. Instead…
Instead…
Jon’s eyes flew to Sansa’s face as if checking with her that he was seeing what he thought he was seeing.
“I know pink and blue for a girl or boy is completely typical, but I was just playing around for starters. You make drinks for fun and I am going to start sketching onesies for fun.”
Jon just kept staring at her. He had no idea what to say. Was there anything to actually be said when a man just found out that his wife was pregnant with their baby? He really did need to say something, but what?
Reading his mind, Sands set aside her sketchbook and moving forward, she slipped her arms around his shoulders. “You’re a fantastic mixologist, Jon,” she said with a smile – somewhat joking – and her eyes were dancing with a brightness he should have seen straight away.
Jon leaned in and kissed her. “We made a baby, Sansa. We’re both great mixologists.” That got a laugh out of her and he leaned in for another kiss. “I love you and I’m going to make you the prettiest non alcoholic mixed drink you’ve ever seen,” he promised her and Sansa just beamed as he stood up. Leaning down, he kissed her again and then left the bedroom to return to the bottles on the dining room table.
Ridiculous or not, Jon didn’t care. His wife was pregnant with their baby and he was going to start practicing. He had to think of and create as many blue and pink non-alcoholic drinks that Sansa could stand over the next few months.
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