Chapter Text
Middle School: Words of Affirmation
“You OK?”
The words startle Sansa. She has just walked into the family room. Expecting it to be empty, since everyone else is out of the house, she didn’t stop herself from crying and is now embarrassed and annoyed at having been caught by her brother’s best friend, Jon.
“Yeah, I’m great,” she mumbles back, plopping herself down on the couch unceremoniously. Jon is on the other end with a book on his lap. She wipes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She chances a look at him and there’s a confused smile on his face. It annoys her further, which he notices.
“Sorry,” he says. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you be sarcastic.”
She shrugs and looks away, feeling her cheeks warm. Jon has been around as long as Sansa can remember. Since his mom died a few years ago, it’s not uncommon for him to be here when the rest of the family isn’t. Her siblings all treat him as one of their own, but Sansa doesn’t quite know what to make of him. In fairness, she thinks her own siblings don’t know quite what to make of her sometimes.
Like Robb, Jon is a sophomore. She’s only in 8th grade, but like all her friends, she already knows everything about all the cliques at Winterfell High School. Robb is Mr. Popular, a three-sport varsity athlete and Prom King in the making. Jon is not quite the opposite but almost. He runs track and from what she has heard her father say he’s really smart. She’d have thought that Robb and Jon would have drifted apart by now because they’re so different. Today is a perfect example. Robb is out with his girlfriend du jour for Valentine’s Day and Jon’s here seemingly happy not to be around anyone.
“Is everything OK, though?” she hears him say.
Sansa looks at him again, and she thinks she can see actual concern on his face. She thinks. Jon’s default expression is concern.
“I can’t do a back handspring.”
He responds with a look of confusion and: “Isn’t that true of most people?” For whatever reason, that makes her laugh.
“It means I can’t be a cheerleader next year. I know it’s stupid to be upset about it, but tryouts are next week and the signup form asks about that so there’s no getting around it.”
“It’s February,” he says, still confused.
“Tryouts happen now so everyone can make plans to go to cheer camp in the summer.”
“Well, I’m sorry, I guess?”
“I know you probably think it’s stupid, and I know I’m stupid for crying about it.
“You’re not stupid, Sansa.”
She looks him in the eye and is surprised that he seems to mean this. Surprised that he says it with conviction like he knows her. Does he know her?
Shaking her head and looking away, she says, “I just always pictured high school in a very specific way, and now I’m not sure what to expect.”
“You’re smart and you’re nice and you’re pretty. I think you can expect it to be whatever you want. You don’t need to be a cheerleader. Everyone will like you no matter what. But just so you know high school mostly sucks.”
Sansa’s cheeks warm again. Jon turns his attention back to his book and Sansa feels silly for feeling flattered. She’s his friend’s little sister and he’s just trying to make her feel better, not flirting or anything.
“Does it really?” she asks quietly.
He sighs, looking up from his book up again and she wonders if he’s already tired of talking to her. “It’s probably just me that thinks that.”
“Why? I mean you’re smart and you’re nice too.”
“But not pretty?”
Sansa’s eyes widen in embarrassment, but she finds herself momentarily caught in his stare before he bursts out laughing.
“I’m messing with you,” he says, that rare smile on his face. “I know the answer to that question and it probably is why I think high school sucks. You’re going to be fine.”
“You’re weird,” she hears herself say after a long moment.
He shrugs, not looking up. His expression is back to his sad default, brow furrowed in concentration as he reads.
“In a good way.”
At this he looks up.
“Don’t change, OK?”
“OK,” he says, though he sounds unsure.
Sansa gets up and goes to her room wondering why it feels like everything has changed.
High School: Quality Time
“You OK?”
Sansa is up to her ears in snow, so she supposes it’s appropriate that after what must have looked like a spectacular sledding crash, Jon Snow is here to rescue her from the huge drift of the stuff into which she crashed. She can hear Robb, Bran, Rickon and Arya all laughing from the top of the hill.
It dumped two feet of snow overnight and the Starks plus Jon—and every school-age kid in Winterfell, it seems—are out taking advantage of the day off from school. It’s Valentine’s Day and Sansa was expecting to spend it at school handing out pink carnations with the rest of the Student Council, and hoping to find one from her current crush, Lloras Tyrell, in the dozen or so she knew had been ordered for her. Instead she’s on the hill at the back of the Stark property sledding with her siblings. And Jon.
Sansa tries to push herself up but the snow is too soft and she can’t get leverage. It isn’t until she feels a hand pulling her up by the arm that she finds her balance again. He pulls her up so quickly and easily, she stumbles into him, eyes wide in shock at finding his face inches away from hers.
“Is anything broken?”
Sansa blinks, unable to form words.
He misreads her expression as confusion and offers, “That’s what my mom used to ask whenever I fell.”
“I’m fine,” she says, stepping away and brushing the snow off the front of her parka. “I think I’m done sledding, though.”
“WATCH OUT!”
Sansa and Jon turn to see Robb and Rickon gleefully barreling toward them in the double sled. Naturally, everyone ends up back in the heap of powder that Jon just dug Sansa out of.
“Mother fucker!” she hears him utter.
“Did you just break something?” she asks.
“No, but I’ve got snow down my back now.”
“Your name is Snow,” Robb says, clearly unrepentant, “You should be at home in this stuff.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“That was awesome,” Rickon says with a laugh as he crawls out of the snow and starts the march back up the hill.
“If you want to change, just go grab something from my closet,” Robb says, as he turns to follow Rickon. “But I think you’ll survive.”
Jon is standing with his back arched uncomfortably as if he’s trying to keep his back from touching the wet clothes covering it.
They turn to make the walk back to the house, when they hear Arya yell out, “BYE, LOSERS!”
Sansa laughs as Jon sticks up his middle finger above his head without turning around. She realizes that this is the first time she has been alone with Jon in a long time, and she suddenly feels nervous. They’re friends. Sort of. He’s always around but she doesn’t wonder about it like she did when she was younger. They don’t really talk but his presence is a comfort. She thinks of Lloras and her useless crush on him. She feels something for Jon and has for years now, but “crush” feels too infantile a word for it. It’s a loose and awkward feeling, like a piece of clothing that doesn’t quite fit yet. Something that would overwhelm her if she tried it on now. She doesn’t know if it will ever fit.
Sansa glances over at Jon and he looks like he always does: Sad in a way that makes her want to take care of him.
He must notice her looking at him and turns to meet her eyes. There’s a little bit of surprise in his expression.
“When did you get so tall?”
She smiles, realizing—like he just has—that they are looking eye to eye.
She bites her lip, almost afraid of all the ways she wants to respond, afraid of how maybe now she’s not just the little sister to him anymore. “I think you’re just short.”
He smiles and looks forward again, which allows her to see the cute way his eyes crinkle. “Yeah, that’s fair.”
They walk the rest of the way in silence.
Once inside the house, after they have taken off their jackets and boots, Jon heads to Robb’s room and Sansa considers what she wants to do. Her siblings will be sledding the rest of the afternoon, no doubt. Dad is still at work and her mom out running errands. She thinks again about the fact that she doesn’t get to see Jon all that much. He’ll be off to college soon and she knows that he’s planning on going away to Castle Black. It’s possible that after this year, she won’t ever see him regularly ever again, and that thought propels her upstairs and to her brother’s door. She’s just about to knock when Jon opens the door.
“Oh, you’re probably going back outside,” she says lamely.
“Do you need something?”
“Um . . . no, I . . . do you want to make cookies with me?”
The surprised, confused smile comes back.
“Cookies?”
She shrugs. “I’m bored and hungry.”
“Um, sure.”
They spend the afternoon that way. In the kitchen baking and decorating. She peppers him with questions about the college application process and where he’s going and what he’s going to do. She can tell he’s a little weirded out at first. They never spend time together like this, but after a while, he just goes with it.
In the end, they make three dozen, and she packs up one dozen for him to take home. He accepts them with a blush and asks if she’ll send him some while he’s away at college.
She smiles back and nods.