Work Text:
"You will be here by dinner though, right?"
Jon sighs, his step mom had always worried herself far too much over these visits.
"He's not across the country mom, he lives two hours away." That would be Arya, the echo through both her line and Catelyn's telling him they were in the same room. He listens to the two bicker back and forth for a moment before chiming in.
"We'll be there mom," he glances pointedly at Tormund lying on the bed who looks between Jon and the massive wolf-dog on his lap with a raised eyebrow.
Jon throws the pair of socks he was about to put in his duffel bag at him. Tormund only laughs.
"What's taking so long?" Robb enquires.
"Ghost won't budge and he's on top of my husband." The wolf-dog eyes Jon for a moment before letting out a huff and spreading his weight out further across the ginger's legs. Jon spares him a withering glance.
"Did you let him know he's coming with you?"
"He knows," he locks eyes with the white heap of fur, "He's just a stubborn little shit," Jon mutters.
"Takes after you there, little crow," Tormund chuckles. It causes a chorus of laughter to erupt from his siblings and Tormund has to duck in order to dodge the T-shirt he throws in return.
Jon suddenly wishes he had ignored his family's insistence on a face time call so he could, quote, 'pack and chat.'
"Let us see the situation," Sansa says.
"Alright." He shoves his last T-shirt in the duffle bag and zips it up. Turning to the nightstand, he picks up his phone, switching on the camera and pointing it towards his husband.
A small chorus of awes follow the reveal, even managing to get a soft smile from his step mother. He notices Arya is suddenly considerably closer to her camera, eyes squinted and brows furrowed.
"Is that a ball gag, Jon?" His stomach drops.
"And rope?" Robb adds. Jon's face begins to burn.
"And is that lube on the nightstand?" Sansa offers. He quickly fumbles with his phone to turn off the camera, dropping it in the process. The fall of his phone seemingly marking the end of Tormund's self control as his suppressed laughter becomes a full on cackle.
Jon glares at him as he collects his phone from the ground, it only makes the man laugh harder. When he finally picks up his phone all his siblings are staring directly at their cameras, looking far too smug. His poor mother looks scandalized and his father has that analytical look like he's still trying to connect the dots.
"Never knew you liked it rough, brother," Robb chuckles.
"Please, like it's not obvious." Arya replies.
Sansa lets out an ungodly laugh Jon has only ever heard her use a handful of times.
"I'll see you all at dinner," he chokes out, quickly hanging up the phone to the sound of his siblings' amused protests. His ears burn hot and he knows he is red from the face down.
He glances at the headboard where a bundle of rope and a ball gag lay, slung half hazard over the edge from the night before, then to the lube laying forgotten on the side table from when they first woke up.
Tormund grins at him and Jon just throws the whole duffel bag this time. It manages to get Ghost up, but fails in wiping the sly look from Tormund's face.
"I'm never going to hear the end of this," he mutters.
"Nope," Tormund says, standing to plant a kiss on Jon's cheek. "And I am very excited to hear you never hearing the end of it the whole week we're in Winterfell."
Jon groans and plants his face in his hands, Tormund pats his shoulder, grabbing the duffel bag and heading out to go put it in the car.
Ghost nudges at his legs. He scrubs open palms over his face roughly, taking a deep breath. He slowly releases it, pocketing his phone and making his way out towards their car, Ghost trailing lazily behind him.