Chapter Text
"Kiss Arya." Lommy says and the others laugh.
Again I ask myself why I remain friends with this dude at all. Looks like I am the first quitter of the evening, because if we’re talking hard limits then you’ve got one right there. When I let the others know, they all whine and sigh, saying that if I am to be part of the game then I shouldn’t give up that easily. Arya has a cocky smile plastered on her face. A kiss probably means nothing to her and she’s been asking a lot about me and Willow lately which simply means she thinks she knows the reason why I am reluctant to kiss her. Well, she isn’t necessarily always right.
The others don’t cease their whining. What would happen if I did kiss her, though? Not only could I get in serious trouble for kissing a fifteen-year-old, but Arya Stark has three brothers present at the camping place and yet another at basic military training on the other side of the country. Hell, Bran is even in the room! Although to be honest, he doesn’t look too bothered by the prospect of me making out with his sister. Kissing. Peck. Whatever. On the good idea scale, this one ranges from one to not at all. …Then again, who the fuck cares about the scale when I can blame this on the alcohol later?
I lean into her and kiss her on the mouth with as much chasteness as such a kiss could manage, too quick for comfort. Because let’s face it, three beers have no effect on me and common sense returns right when I get a close-up of her face. Then Lommy has to open his big mouth again:
"What was that?! That’s not a kiss!"
And the others start agreeing with him, but my eyes are on her. She laughs, completely unbothered, and I feel like punching something.
"Whatever, I’m done with this."
Jumping up from my place beside Arya I walk out.
Just my luck, it’s raining cats and dogs outside and I am too irritated at the others to get back into the cabin. Instead I stand sheltered from the rain and stare out at the darkness. Of course she isn’t bothered by it. Because she is Arya goddamn fucking Stark and she has the emotion span of a friggin’ table. With a half-assed kick at the ground I cross my arms.
"What is up with you? It was only a kiss…"
Apparently she also has the stealth of a ghost because I didn’t hear her coming out of the cabin at all. Looking across my shoulder I glower down at her, still mad even though she hasn’t really done anything. I say nothing.
"…Well, barely a kiss, really. What am I, your sister?" With a laugh she leans on the wall next to me and looks up, still looking for a reaction.
If only I could simply stay mad at her. Still I say nothing.
"Is it because of Willow?"
"No!"
For a second I feel the need to shake her and repeatedly tell her that there is nothing going on between me and Willow. I do nothing.
"Fine, so it’s just the idea of kissing me that creeps you out that much? Wow. Thanks."
Attitude, it is always attitude with her. She doesn’t even let me open my mouth to explain when she is already turning around to go back inside. Reaching out I grab her hand and yank angrily, making her spiral back.
"What!" She snaps at me.
Fuck the good idea scale, I think to myself and seize her lips with mine. Then I am kissing Arya Stark and she’s wrapping her arms around my neck like she’s just been waiting for me to finally do this.