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Chapter Text

The ski trip for their term break had been her idea.

Ridesharing all the way to the Bay of Seals with Joffrey had not been.

(How is it possible that Myrcella and Joffrey are actually related?)

Yes, she had thought him dreamy when she’d first met him with his golden curls and emerald-green eyes. But it hadn’t taken much of him opening his mouth for Sansa’s nascent crush to be snuffed out like a candle in the breeze. Anyway, a few dates and a few snide remarks and nasty looks after she’d turned him down for any further dates led to an uncomfortable truce of indifference towards one another. She is Myrcella’s roommate after all and Joffrey occasionally acknowledges his sister’s existence.

Mya’s minivan has the most room so she’s driving. Myrcella gets carsick easily so she’s shotgun. Margaery and Wylla are a couple and thus have claimed the third row for some road trip coziness. Which leaves Sansa and Joffrey in the second row pretending the other doesn’t exist.

Sansa glances back at the couple canoodling in the third row and quietly sighs. No road trip canoodling for her. She glances over at Joffrey and rolls her eyes. At least, he’s supposedly meeting some friends at their destination and she won’t have to lay eyes on him again until the trip back to campus.

(Which begs the question- why couldn’t he have hitched a ride with them? And who would even be friends with Joffrey?)

“Pitstop!”

Sansa’s head jerks up from her near slumber at Mya’s cry and they all pile out of the minivan to relieve their bladders and purchase some sugar and caffeine.

She’s got long legs but Joffrey’s just a little faster making it to the convenience store’s door. He opens it and, with a smirk thrown over his shoulder, lets it swing closed in her face.

“Jerk.”

Is this trip really going to be worth it? One full night and day of driving to get there, the same to get back in exchange for three days of skiing, which she’s certainly no ace at, while knowing she’s in the same small resort town as him. Maybe she would’ve preferred blissful days of a Joffrey-Free campus more.

“You coming in?” a deep, Northern-accented voice asks.

She gasps and flushes, realizing she’s been caught staring at the sidewalk pondering her life choices by a stranger as she blocks the business’s exit.

But when she looks up, he’s smiling at her and holding the door wide open while holding a coffee and a pack of M&Ms.

Look, she’s a modern girl and more than capable of opening a door for herself but when a guy, and a handsome guy at that, holds the door open for her, Sansa’s little romantic heart still can get a zing out of it, can’t it?

“Yeah, I am. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

She passes through the door and he heads out it. Other than her initial impression that he’s handsome, she has only a couple of seconds to clock any details. He’s around her age, has dark hair and a beard and he smells nice - which is saying something when you’re at a roadside convenience store at midnight.

She thinks about his simple courtesy as she heads into the ladies’ and how lacking she’s found the South when it comes to true courtesy. She thinks about the sound of his voice when she’s perusing the snacks. She’s missed hearing Northern voices. She could go for some M&Ms, too.

While standing in line to pay though, she glances out the store’s broad front window and sees him talking to some pretty blonde before the two of them climb into a packed SUV with skis on top. Of course. Handsome, courteous Northern stranger has a girlfriend and Sansa’s got to endure several more hours of Joffrey.

**

“Why didn’t you fucking swerve?!”

“How was I supposed to fucking swerve to avoid a single fucking nail I couldn’t fucking see while driving at night, Fucko?!”

4AM, sleepy and cold, Sansa and the others huddle together on the side of the road with a flat tire while Mya and Joffrey have their pointless little screaming match. Thankfully, Mya will be the one to end it.

“Either shut your trap and help me change this damned tire or you can walk the rest of the way there!”

Joffrey chooses to shut his trap but he’s no help with the tire. He stands off to the side glaring at the lot of them and sulking.

“I’m sorry,” Sansa hears Myrcella whispering pitifully to Mya.

It would absolutely suck to have such a brother. Sansa misses her own brothers right now. Especially Robb since he could actually be of some help changing a flat. Maybe she should’ve gone home for term break instead.

“You guys need a hand?”

Sansa’s head whips ‘round at the sound of the voice, that strangely familiar sounding voice. Every other car or truck that’s been out this time of night/morning has just breezed on past them. Sansa edges around the minivan as Mya’s about to wave off assistance (Mya can be a little pridefully stubborn about accepting help but a flat tire at 4AM is no fun) and sees him.

“We could use some help!” she pipes up, hoping Mya won’t be too annoyed.

And here’s her courteous door-holder from the convenience store again who’s stopped to offer help to strangers changing a tire.

Sansa glances back at the SUV where it’s parked on the side of the road behind their van. There’s another guy, kind of burly but nice looking, getting out of the back with a flashlight and tool kit in hand.

And there’s the pretty blonde asleep in the front passenger seat. Sansa’s M&Ms and convenience store latte churn unhappily in her stomach at the sight for some reason but she smiles at the guys, thanking them for their courtesy and their kindness.

“You’re welcome.”

His dark eyes rake over her and she sees a flash of puzzlement and potential recognition before Mya’s telling them her dad must’ve loaned out the jack to someone and she thinks the tire just needs a patch and leading them to the flat.

Nervous flutters fill her the whole time the guys are helping Mya change the flat. Maybe that’s because they’re stuck on the side of the road in the dark, an uncomfortable place to be stuck at any time. Or maybe it’s because Joffrey keeps hovering over their helpers, making unhelpful suggestions bordering on snideness and just being in the way. Or maybe it’s because she wishes she could talk to one particular handsome helper for more than a handful of seconds but her eyes keep darting back to the pretty blonde asleep in his vehicle.

“Thank you…again,” Sansa manages to tell him as they’re walking back to his vehicle, his friend giving exaggerated shivers at the cold and her own climbing gratefully back into Mya’s van.

He gives her an embarrassed, shy grin and says, “It was nothing.”

“Have a safe trip.”

“You, too.”

And with that, their conversation is at an end without even learning his name. They’ve both got friends waiting and it’s still cold and dark out here and not so safe on the side of the road.

**

“Breakfast!”

Sansa jolts awake at Margaery’s call, losing the thread of the sweet little dream she’d been having involving shopping for M&Ms with a handsome stranger. Utter foolishness.

Margaery had taken over driving a little after six when Mya couldn’t hold her eyes open any longer. Mya’s grumbling in the back but Wylla’s waxing on about fresh pancakes and syrup and soon everyone is grinning…except Joffrey.

“Leave it to you heifers to be thinking of your stomachs and making this trip take that much longer.”

No one else hears him and, while Sansa scowls, she’d rather ignore him than start a fight after such a long, restless night of trying to sleep on the road.

(But there’s a little part of her which would dearly love for Joffrey to choke on his pancakes.)

Mya runs across the street to the local garage to see if they might be able to do a quick patch on the tire and Sansa links arms with Myrcella so they may leave her ridiculous brother behind while Marg and Wylla head in past the crowd to see if they can nab a table.

As she enters, Sansa can feel her morning mood improving by the second with the smell of bacon frying and fresh coffee brewing and the sounds of a busy kitchen and people chattering.

What a lovely day. If only she might see…no. That’s stupid. Best block him from her mind. Just ships passing in the night. Twice. She’ll never lay eyes on him again more than likely.

It’s busy so Sansa decides to go into the restroom and, when she comes out, her friends have secured a large enough booth in the far corner and Mya’s there saying the garage is already working on the patch.

They file through the tables towards their friends as laughter at another booth draws Sansa’s attention. It’s a blonde laughing over something the man across from her with rather large ears has just said. She looks familiar. There’s two other guys at the table, one a big guy who also looks familiar and the guy sitting next to her with his dark curls pulled back in a manbun…

“Oh hey!” Mya cries from behind Sansa. “Funny running into you guys again. Let me buy you breakfast as a way of saying thanks.”

The guy with his curls in a manbun turns and, though he looks a little more worn than he did at the store last night and he’s put on glasses since she bid him a safe trip on the side of the road in the wee hours of the morning, it’s undoubtedly him, her handsome, courteous stranger aka her Road Trip Crush.

(Yes, she came up with the label just now.)

There’s an exchange of greetings, an attempt to wave off Mya’s offer of free breakfast before they inevitably relent and Sansa finds herself stupidly breathless when he stands up, turning his full attention on her and says, “Hi again.”

“Hi,” she squeaks back as her blasted cheeks heat up. Oh, what does she say now?! “This is three times I’ve run into you in less than ten hours.”

Did she just say that?! She told him she’s keeping count of their chance encounters and the hours?! Does he even remember her from the convenience store at all?! Why must she blush so?!

“Yeah, it is. Maybe we’re heading to the same place.”

Oh, maybe they are! He’s got skis on the top of his SUV and this is the road which leads to the mountains after all.

What’s it matter if he’s with her, Sansa?

“Maybe so. Bay of Seals?” He nods, looking pleased. “Right. So, I’m, uh…” Please, recall your damn name. “I’m Sansa.”

“Hi, Sansa. I’m-”

“Jon, the server’s here,” the blonde says from beside him before he can finish and Sansa’s eyes fall to the amused smirk on the blonde's face and then dart to where a harried-looking server is indeed waiting to take their orders.

“Black coffee and a short stack for me, please,” he quickly tells the server before turning back towards her. He is courteous after all. “I’m Jon,” he manages to get out before Mya’s grabbing Sansa’s arm.

“Nice to meet you, Jon! Bring me their check,” Mya tells the server.

“Oh yes. I’ll split it with you, Mya, and we really appreciate…”

She wants to say more but the blonde has her hand on Jon’s forearm now, asking if he’ll help her with the blueberry pancake special if she gets it. And even though Jon gives Sansa an apologetic look for the interruption, she feels completely awkward and in the way, like an intruder.

“We’ll let you all eat and take our seats,” Sansa murmurs, letting Mya lead her away and not daring to look pathetically back at him as she goes.

Sansa’s empty stomach feels queasy now and the frying bacon and coffee smell isn’t as welcome as it was. Her whole mood is spoiled with the knowledge that she’s formed a completely silly crush on a stranger who obviously has a girlfriend. So, it only seems fitting when she reaches the table that she finds herself forced to sit next to Joffrey at the edge of the booth.

She has an unimpeded view of the back of Jon’s head while she picks at her breakfast except for the handful of times he turns around and catches her staring at him…like a creeper.

**

Afternoon brings Sansa and her friends to their destination at last, a lovely little ski lodge nestled in the mountains near the Bay of Seals.

She’d hoped to shed Joffrey before now but…

“Huh. The prick’s not answering,” Joffrey had said after his third attempt to call the friend who was supposed to meet him in town.

So Myrcella, being sweet Myrcella, had suggested he ride with them to the lodge for the time being.

Poor Myrcella. He’s her brother and she probably felt she had no choice.

Poor Myrcella had also got dagger eyes sent her way by three of her four friends for making the offer.

(Sansa felt a little too guilty over the fact that Joffrey had actually started choking on his pancakes at one point to send any more bad vibes out into the universe or harmful mojo anyone’s way.)

Sansa has the sinking feeling that they’re going to wind up stuck with Joffrey this whole damn trip.

Walking ahead of the group to escape his latest hissy fit for a few minutes, Sansa heads towards the check-in desk to hopefully get their cabin key…and see if they’ve got a sofa around the little lobby area here where maybe Joffrey can crash.

The cabin has three beds; one for Wylla and Marg, one that Mya and Myrcella have agreed to share and one for Sansa. They’d agreed since she made the reservation, she could have her own bed. There is no way in seven hells she’s offering to share that bed with Joffrey!

As she reaches the check-in desk, she sees three guys standing there with one of them appearing somewhat frustrated with the desk attendant.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Snow, but we don’t show that reservation in our system.”

“But I made it over a month ago.”

Oh, she knows that voice! He’s here! At the exact same resort as them! And…wait. Where’s the girlfriend? Sansa looks around but doesn’t see her. Maybe she’s visiting the ladies’ or something.

Meanwhile, he’s holding up his phone for the attendant, sounding a little desperate. “This is the confirmation email your resort sent me when I booked the lodging and-”

“Well, that is from us but it appears your reservation got lost in the shuffle somehow. So sorry.”

You don’t sound remotely sorry, Sansa thinks as the woman pecks on her keyboard for a few seconds.

“That cabin is booked so I’m afraid you’ll need to look elsewhere for lodging.”

“Elsewhere? It’s term break. Where are we supposed to look? And we don’t need that particular cabin. Any you’ve got here will do.”

“Mr. Snow, we don’t have any cabins available this week. It is term break as you said,” the clerk says with an amazingly chipper smile.

Do you enjoy ruining people's days?

Jon and his friends shoot each other incredulous and panicked looks as the attendant steps down the counter away from them and makes eye contact with Sansa.

“Hi! May I help you?” she says, still awfully chipper-sounding for someone who just told three guys they don’t have a room for the night.

Sansa is internally debating the logistics (and potential embarrassment/heartache) but it doesn’t stop her from answering. “I certainly hope you can help me…and then maybe I can help them.”

The three guys turn as one at the sound of her voice but it’s Jon she can’t help but lock eyes with as she gives him a tentative smile.

Chapter Text

“This is really…Sansa, I can’t even begin to thank you for-”

“Only seems fitting. You helped us.”

“With a flat. This is a lot more.”

You held the door for me, too. Ooh, she’s in trouble.

Then, he smiles at her. It’s such an adorable grin with his eyes crinkled up at the corners behind his glasses. She could lose herself in that grin.

“Where’s your other friend?” she forces herself to ask, needing the reminder that her Road Trip Crush probably has a girlfriend and she’s being ridiculous crushing like this.

“Val? She was just hitching a ride with us to her sister’s. They live near Sea Dragon Point so it was mostly on the way. We dropped her off a couple of hours ago.”

“Oh, that’s nice of you.”

So, you weren’t taking your girlfriend on a term break ski trip with your friends! You were just giving a friend a lift.

That doesn’t mean she’s not his girlfriend, Sansa. Couples don’t have to spend every second of their free time together to be a couple.

Well…shit.

What is she doing? What was she thinking?

They need a place to stay!

Jon had tried calling other places while Sansa was sorting the cabin details with the clerk but struck out with all but one. The place nearer the highway though which had plenty of vacancies had been shot down by Jon’s friend Pyp, the one with large ears, at once.

“That place is a roach motel. We’d never see the slopes and we’d probably go home with some fungus. I’d rather sleep on the floor here than that.”

After Sansa confirms that her reservation hasn’t been ‘lost in the shuffle’ and they share her spur-of-the-moment offer with the others, Margaery’s eyes dart between Jon and her. Then, Mya’s do the same. Two smirks appear and Sansa knows her altruistic gesture is under suspicion. Soon, all four of her friends seem to be on to her as if the idea has transferred ‘round the group via osmosis or something.

But the amazing part, the part that reminds her why she loves her friends so much, is how readily they adapt to the idea of letting three strangers stay with them for the next three days. The more the merrier might even be their motto.

I mean, we were willing to tolerate Joffrey for Myrcella’s sake.

“Booze run!” Wylla announces as they’re heading towards the parking lot.

“But we’ve not even seen the cabin yet.”

“So? It’s too late for skiing today.” This is true. It’s already edging towards six and getting dark out.

“We’ll need food, too,” Mya chimes in. She gives Grenn an appraising look and amends that. “We’re going to need lots of food, I think.”

“If you’re going into town, can Grenn and I hitch a ride to the camping supply store with you?” Pyp asks. “We could get a couple of air mattresses and some sleeping bags. You want us to get you anything, Snowman?”

Sansa watches Jon’s ears turn a little pinkish, possibly over the nickname, when he says, “Uh, sure. Grab me a sleeping bag, Pyp, and I’ll pay you back. Thanks.”

With that, Mya, Wylla and Marg are leading the guys to the minivan, saying they’ll have to ante up on the booze and food since they’re getting free board.

“You coming into town with us, Baratheon?” Mya asks Joffrey once Sansa, Jon and Myrcella have been grabbing luggage out of the van to haul towards their cabin. “You can try and track down your friends while we’re there.”

Joffrey’s been unusually quiet in the midst of their changes in the plan, following the group a few paces behind and this is the first time Sansa’s bothered to look at him since they arrived. She doesn’t like the look on his face now.

“No, I think I’ll stay right here,” Joffrey says, pulling his baggage out of the van. “Mother wouldn’t want me to leave my sister alone with some guy who might be a serial killer for all we know.”

Myrcella rolls her eyes and tells Joffrey not to be a prat. Jon looks caught between an uncomfortable chuckle and a scowl over being the butt of Joffrey’s very lame joke. Sansa expels a slow breath to combat her rising panic over whatever nonsense Joffrey might start if he wants to get pissy and leads them towards the cabin.

**

The cabin is nice but, what would be a little cramped for five girls, is going to be very tight quarters indeed for eight…or nine.

“Joffrey,” Myrcella says sweetly, “Why don’t you call your friend again and see if-”

“He’s not here. None of them are, Cella,” Sansa hears Joffrey huff. “Our wires must’ve gotten crossed, they said. They went to the Bay of Pentos for term break.”

“The Bay of Pentos? But that’s nothing like the Bay of Seals. It’s across the Narrow Sea and you told them you’d get a ride with us when obviously you couldn’t have driven there or-”

Myrcella grows quiet then, likely drawing the same conclusion that Sansa has. Joffrey’s so-called friends not only dumped him from their term break plans, they sent him off on a wild goose chase.

“They’re a bunch of losers anyway. I don’t care,” Joffrey says in a hurt tone that makes it plain he does care.

No! Now, I feel sorry for that ass!

“It’s alright, Joffrey. You can just stay here with us.”

Nooooooo!

Still, Sansa can’t blame Myrcella. He’s her brother. If Sansa can offer three strangers a place to stay, Myrcella can certainly do the same for her own flesh and blood. What wouldn’t Sansa do to help one of her siblings, especially after a blow like that, if she was in a position to help?

Yeah, but my siblings aren’t Joffrey!

To give the brother and sister an allusion of some privacy as they speak, Sansa leads Jon into the bedroom she’s claiming as hers…or was. She’s only one person. Is it right to have this whole room for herself when four guys will be sleeping on the floor of the little common room? One might get the sofa, she supposes…not that it looks all the comfortable for sleeping.

“You can keep your things in here if you want. There’s a closet and dresser. I won’t need all of it for my stuff.”

“Thanks, Sansa.”

They bustle around the little bedroom together, bumping shoulders or elbows a time or two as they put away their things. Does she get way too much of a thrill out of that? Yes. Definitely.

While doing so, they share a little bit about themselves. Jon loves skiing. Sansa’s gone a few times but isn’t the greatest. Both have been to the town before but never at this resort.

“I mostly pictured sitting in front of a fire with my friends and hot cocoa while wearing my cutest sweaters.”

“I’m sure you’d look adorable doing that.”

Was that flirty? Or just him being sweet?

Jon says he and his friends had gone to Castle Black for undergrad but he’s at Rosby now as a grad student. (Which isn’t all that far from KLU!)

He’d picked up Pyp and Grenn in Cerwyn for this skiing trek. Where Val falls into all of this, he doesn’t say and Sansa doesn’t work up the nerve to ask. Is she his girlfriend? Are they just friends? Why was she smirking when she interrupted them at the pancake place this morning? And the way she’d put her hand on his forearm and asked if he’d share pancakes with her…

The voices outside the bedroom have risen a little. Joffrey is back to being his usual prickish self again. He’s back to making surmises about Jon and his friends, too, and not really bothering to lower his voice.

“For all you know, Cella, they never had a reservation to begin with. They were probably just hanging around in that lobby waiting for someone gullible like Sansa… (Ouch. And excuse you? My last gullible move was thinking you were worth the time of day.) “…to come along and fall for their sob story so they can join in your little pajama party while you girls all get drunk tonight. If I’m not here to keep an eye on things, I’ll bet they’ll be-”

“Joffrey, if you don’t knock it off, you can camp out on the balcony for all I care.”

“You can’t do that! I’ll call Mother and-”

“Gods, shut up. I’m taking a nice, long nap!”

A slamming door has Sansa covering her snickers. Sofa City for you, pal.

She realizes she’s been caught eavesdropping when Jon sits down on the bed and sighs. On top of being suspected of nefarious motives and schemes, it’s been a long day for him after driving all of last night. Sansa wants a shower and then maybe a nap more than anything right now. She wonders if Jon feels the same.

“I know we’ve only met today but I can assure you I’m not a serial killer, Sansa.”

She snorts. “I don’t think a serial killer would be helpful in the way you’ve been.”

“Thanks. I try.” He takes off his glasses and scrubs at his face while stifling a yawn. “So, forgive me for asking but is Joffrey…”

He lets the question trail off there. “He’s Myrcella’s brother.”

“Yeah, I caught that.” Duh, of course he did, Sansa. “I was just asking if you’re…”

He trails off again so Sansa’s back to filling in the sentence. “Myrcella’s my roommate on campus.”

“Right but, uh…Joffrey isn’t…or is he your, um…”

Sansa’s eyes widen and she promptly covers her face. “Ew! Gods, no.”

Jon starts chuckling, a very relieved sounding chuckle. “Sorry. Just trying to figure out the dynamics here. He kept staring at you earlier.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, when you were explaining to your friends what you’d done for us, he would look at you and then give us a nasty look and then back again. It seemed like jealousy or something to me.”

“I can’t imagine him being jealous of me. Okay, admittedly, we did go out on a few dates last year before I got to know what a jerk he is but, this trip aside, we quietly loathe each other from a distance in general now.”

“I see.”

(Damn, his voice dropped very nicely there. All husky, Northern appeal. Gods, she’s tired and not thinking straight.)

“I don’t think they’ll be back from town for a while so I’m going to grab a shower. If you want to crash here for a bit, be my guest.”

“I couldn’t sleep in your bed when-”

“It’s a bed. Not technically even mine yet. It’s up to you but rest if you like. Bound to be more comfortable than a sleeping bag later.”

He nods in acknowledgement of that truth. “Alright. Thanks. You enjoy your shower. I may have to do that next.”

**

She’d needed a shower; a hot one to wash away the road trip grime and a cold one to calm down.

It is not Jon’s fault that he looks that good in a turtleneck. It is not Jon’s fault that he looks that good in a turtleneck. It is not Jon’s fault that…

When she exits the bathroom in the fresh t-shirt and sweats she’d brought with her to change (saving my cute sweaters for later), she sees Joffrey sullenly channel surfing in the common room. Myrcella’s door is still closed so she’s probably still sleeping…or just avoiding spending time with Joffrey.

“Anything good on?” Sansa asks, just to be polite because it feels awkward to pass through a room where they’re the only two people and not say something.

He looks back over his shoulder at her and scowls. She should’ve just passed through the room without saying anything.  “There’s only four channels. It’s like the fucking stone ages when your people still worshiped trees or something here.”

Not the first dig she’s heard over her Northern heritage since going South and Joffrey can’t faze her tonight. Her friends didn’t dump her. “Well, most people come here for things besides television, I guess.”

“Yeah, like picking up strangers on the side of the road to fuck.”

“Excuse you?”

“Excuse me what, Sansa? I saw you looking at him during breakfast and then you were awfully quick to offer up our cabin for them.”

“Since when is it ‘our’ cabin?”

“I saw the way he was looking at you, too.” Jon was looking at her? What way? And when? “He’s in your bed right now, isn’t he?”

“To sleep. He drove all night and day, Joffrey. He’s tired.”

“Yeah, right. Wish you’d been this easy when we were dating.”

“You’re pathetic, Joffrey. A sad, pathetic, little prick. I suggest you sit there quietly and enjoy your television or maybe you’ll be looking for another place to lay your head tonight.”

He huffs and turns back around and she stomps into her bedroom where Jon is asleep on top of the bed.

“Sansa?” he murmurs sleepily when she walks in and closes the door. It’s kind of, really adorable.

“Yeah, it’s me. Want me to turn the lamp off?”

“Nah, I…fuck, what time is it?” He gropes around him for his phone but it’s slipped off the bed onto the floor.

“Nearly seven. No booze or food has arrived yet. Stay in bed if you want.” She stifles a yawn of her own and puts her soiled clothes in the drawer she’s designated for those.

“You tired, too?” he asks, grinning up at her from where he lays. Him and those grins of his with his messy bed head are not going to help her think straight.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll get up.”

“No, you don’t have to get up. You’re not even under the covers for that matter. Aren’t you cold?”

“Nah, I’m fine.” The next instant, his body decides to contradict him as he gives an involuntary shiver. She laughs quietly as he admits, “Maybe a little.”

“We could both lie here…if you’d want. Just until they get back with food and such.”

“Yeah, that’d…if you don’t mind me staying here with you, I’d like that.”

“It’s just a bed. Big enough for two or even three. We’d just be resting. Help me pull back the covers. My hair’s still damp and I want to be warm.”

“Okay.”

Quietly, shyly, a little reticently, they pull back the covers, plump the pillows and exchange a few words about preferred sides.

When they climb in and get under the covers together, they lay unnaturally still for several minutes, counting the beats of their hearts or timing their breaths perhaps.

“Sansa…thanks again.”

“No problem,” she says, remembering when he’d said the same at the convenience store last night.

Who would’ve thought the handsome courteous stranger with his bag of M&Ms and coffee last night would be sharing a bed with her this evening? Life can be very funny sometimes.

She smiles up at the ceiling and can feel herself relaxing. The shower probably helped that. She hears his breathing grow a little steadier. It’s calming.

Why does the bed feel so full with him in it? In a good way.  Why does she want to cross the bit of empty sheets between them and absorb his warmth? Wrap herself around him and never let go?

(Is Val his girlfriend? Was he really looking at her in a particular way earlier like Joffrey suggested?)

She doesn’t know the answers to those questions but her worries are losing the battle against her exhaustion. She only knows that she’s oddly comfortable lying next to Jon, no matter how short a time they’ve known one another.

The muffled sound of the television from the next room seems soothing along with the smell of Jon on her sheets.

“Are you still cold?” she asks quietly, recalling his shiver and wanting to be warmer.

“A little. Scooch closer if you want.”

She does and they both sigh as their shoulders touch.

She already drifting when she hears him say (or thinks she does), “Your hair smells so good,” in that wonderfully deep, Northern voice of his.

Down, down, down in a sweet sleep free of true dreams, Sansa floats. Images, flashes, memories of his smile and then just peace and rest.

**

When the sound of the rest of their party returning wakes them, they both jolt upright. Dazed and disoriented, Sansa feels her cheeks getting hot. She just shared her bed with a guy she barely knows. That’s going to be obvious to more than just Joffrey very soon.

But her stomach rumbles, she’s hungry and they didn’t do anything. They’re adults regardless and there’s nothing for her to feel embarrassed about. So why does her heart flutter so?

“Sorry, I’ll, uh…” Jon rises from the bed without finishing his words.

It’s then, in its absence, that she realizes he’s been holding her hand all this while as they slept.

Chapter Text

Coming out of the bedroom behind Jon like nothing happened (which obviously nothing did happen even if they’re both decidedly rumpled and a little flushed from their impromptu nap), Sansa is quite proud of herself meeting everyone’s eye and asking what she can do to help with dinner.

Secretly, she’s got a good little heady buzz coursing through her though as she remembers the feel of Jon’s hand holding hers while they slept. How had that happened? Was it accidental or on purpose? Accidentally on purpose? What had he said about her hair as they’d been drifting off again? Gods, she’s smitten, isn’t she?

But she’s far less pleased when Pyp says, “Val called me a bit ago trying to reach you, Jon.”

“Oh…right.”

Val.

Fuck.

He darts back into her bedroom to retrieve his phone from where it’d slipped to the floor during their nap.

Her stomach turns to lead as Jon reappears staring myopically at the phone, his glasses still laying on the bedroom dresser more than likely, mutters a curse and says he needs to return a call.

To Val.

Val, the beautiful blonde he was giving a ride to Sea Dragon Point. The one who’d been riding in the front passenger seat beside him in his SUV with his buddies in the back when Sansa had first laid eyes on him last night at the convenience store.

Fuck.

What’s it matter that Jon had been holding her hand while they slept if he’s got…well, whatever Val is to him precisely?

He steps outside onto the cabin’s balcony and spends the next seven minutes there talking and pacing.

Seven minutes.

Seven minutes where he’s free to talk and pace unaware of the others while Sansa’s stuck inside with her friends, his friends and Joffrey, all of them but Joffrey awkwardly discussing the trip into town for supplies while all of them are covertly checking her out (or not so covertly in Joffrey’s case) and likely speculating about what’s going on between these two strangers.

Seven minutes.

More than enough time to have a conversation with his possible girlfriend about the strange woman who’s offered him and his friends shelter for the next three nights and then begged him to take a nap in her bed…before she’d showered and turned around to join him there, oh so willingly.

Seven minutes is a freaking lifetime sometimes.

“Drinks!” Mya shouts as the last of Grenn and Pyp’s building tirade about the exorbitant prices of air mattresses, sleeping bags and pillows in this little resort town reaches its fever pitch.

“Yes, drinks!” Wylla concurs. “Long day and it’s term break! Who wants an ale? Or we have white wine…”

“And tequila! The oven’s nearly preheated,” Margaery says, holding up the frozen pizza boxes they must’ve picked up at the store. “These won’t take but twenty or so.”

“I’ll get the cookie dough out for our dessert,” Myrcella chirps, gently squeezing Sansa’s shoulder as she passes by her. “You can help me, Sansa.”

Sansa could kiss her friends. They are simply the best.

And when Jon comes back inside from whatever important matters he had to discuss with Val right away, Sansa’s able to join in with the others in the kitchen bustling about and pretending it doesn’t matter to her whatever that business might’ve been.

Not one little bit.

(She’s mostly good at pretending.)

“More drinks!”

Sansa quietly groans at Wylla’s exuberance for more alcohol (she’s a lightweight and knows it) but no one else seems to mind. They’re all full of frozen pizza and cookies and in a chummy frame of mind.

Everyone except Joffrey, that is.

He’s been downing ales one after another, the ales Pyp and Grenn bought, and eating some raw cookie dough he commandeered from Myrcella before dinner. It’s been sitting out a good while now and Sansa’s not sure it’s ideal eating but it’s Joffrey so she just keeps her mouth closed to avoid any more nastiness like earlier.

“Let’s play a game while we’re at it,” Margaery adds as she cozies up to Wylla on the air mattress Grenn’s just inflated.

The two guys had bought two king-sized air mattresses in town thinking that’d be plenty of sleeping space for the three (or four) men to share. However, they hadn’t seen the cabin at the time and those two king-sized air mattresses take up a huge amount of floor space.

Thus, most of the common room’s meager furniture has been shoved into a corner and the nine of them are spread out across the mattresses with pillows, blankets and sleeping bags thrown around like this is indeed one huge sleepover.

The best part (or the worst part depending on one’s point of view of the Val business) is that Jon’s taken a seat next to her. Gods, he smells good like last night again. He’d taken a quick shower after his call and before the pizzas were ready.

Being the gentlemanly sort, he’s even offered her his sleeping bag to wrap up in as she was munching on yet another cookie and complaining of a chill. She’ll probably get crumbs in his sleeping bag but the wine has her feeling decidedly relaxed and not too worried over it.

Between Mya and Grenn, they’ve got the fire going properly now but Sansa’s too comfortable to shed the sleeping bag’s extra warmth just yet. And if you do think my hair smells good, maybe you won’t mind too much tonight after we all turn in.

“What game d’you have in mind, Marg?” Myrcella asks.

“Never Have I Ever, of course. What better way for us to all get to know everyone better?”

Sansa is alarmed by the gleam in Margaery’s eye when she looks her way and then at Jon. Shit. Margaery is always on to her, it seems. It would be a good way to find out things about him though. How about Never Have I Ever inadvertently made a girl crush on me while I’m dating someone else?

Some grumbling, some minor protests at the suggestion are soon waylaid by Margaery’s cajoling. She’s very good at getting her way and Sansa finds herself with a fresh glass of wine in hand as Marg and Myrcella bounce across the mattresses to offer refills. Sansa watches as Joffrey takes one of the tequila bottles, half gone, from Myrcella’s hand.

“Not too much, Joffy.”

“I’m older than you. Stop nagging. Gods, your worse than Mother.”

“Now, we’ve already been drinking and we don’t want anyone getting ill so only sip if you wish when you’re caught out,” their little game night leader says to curtail any sibling bickering. “I’ll start us off. Never have I ever got a tattoo.”

More good-natured groaning as Pyp, Grenn, Mya and Wylla all take a drink…followed by a somewhat reluctant Jon.

“Did you forget about your tattoo for a minute there, Jon?” Margaery teases.

“No, but maybe I’d like to.”

“Snowman!” Pyp cackles knowingly and then Grenn’s chuckling too and Jon’s face is getting redder.

Sansa finds it adorable honestly and she wonders what his tattoo is and where it’s hiding. Not that she’s seen much skin yet. He’d changed a bit ago with his shower but he’s still fairly covered in a henley and sweatpants. But that henley…oh my. She’s got a good view of forearms and a sliver of chest.

Gods, behave. No more wine for you.

But the game?

Shit.

“I was 18, drunk and foolish,” he murmurs in her ear unexpectedly as Wylla, next in the circle thinks up her statement.

Sansa looks around at the others before giving him a smile and enjoying the intimacy of his whispered confession. “We all do silly things at 18. And there’s nothing wrong with having a tattoo.”

“I know. It’s just that it’s, um…”

It’s what? she dearly wants to prompt before his rambling admittance is cut off.

“Never have I ever waxed,” Wylla announces proudly, glancing around the circle as all the girls except Mya laugh and take a sip…along with Pyp.

“I was a swimmer. We’d wax before meets especially.”

“Yeah, sure…a swimmer,” Joffrey laughs. It’s a very unkind sort of laugh, far more amused by Pyp’s admittance than warranted. Who cares if Pyp waxed for swimming? Who cares if Pyp waxed just because he liked it?

“No toxic masculinity in our circle of friends,” Marg says with the decisiveness of a queen and the guys, except Joffrey, all nod solemnly at her edict.

The game goes ‘round the circle and everyone is forced to have at least a few sips. There’s nothing alarming in anything Sansa discovers even if there are a few minor surprises.

Meanwhile, she feels so warm and snug in Jon’s sleeping bag and could almost drift off again. Her eyes are heavy and he’s encouraged her to lay down on the pillow she’d brought out from her bedroom. She remembers him holding her hand while they slept earlier. She wonders why he had to call Val back right away. She was busy in the kitchen when he came back in but noted Grenn and Pyp hovering close to him, quietly asking questions. His eyes had darted her way more than once as he’d murmured replies to them before he’d announced he was taking a shower.

“Sansa? It’s your turn, honey.”

“Oh…right,” she says, startled from her thoughts. “Never have I ever used someone else’s toothbrush.”

Most of them laugh or make disgusted noises. Joffrey scoffs calling it a lame statement. “Goody two-shoes.”

But, Grenn takes a sip with an unapologetic shrug and everyone else is laughing so hard when Pyp shouts, “It better not have been mine!” that no one cares what Joffrey thinks.

“Your turn Mya.”

“Never have I ever stood someone up for a date.”

Only Wylla and Joffrey take a drink.

Wylla looks so sheepish, bless her. “We’d gone out twice and not clicked at all. My parents kept pushing me to date him though as he was the son of friend of my father’s. This was before I’d come out and I think it helped propel me to finally do it. I can still recall his weaselly Frey face. Anyway, we had plans to meet at a bar and I saw him sitting inside and…I just couldn’t do it anymore. I left without saying a word and drove three hours around White Harbor singing along to the radio and crying.”

“Oh, Wylla,” the girls hum in sympathy as Margaery pats her girlfriend’s hand.

The rest of the group looks at Joffrey expectantly next wondering what his story is. But he’s just smirking to himself and Sansa doubts his reason is one she wants to hear. He doesn’t share and that’s probably for the best.

“Myrcella?” Marg prompts.

“Never have I ever given a fake name.”

With a sigh, Sansa reluctantly takes her sip. She’s not alone in the group to do so but Jon’s raised eyebrows are aimed her way. He shared a little with her. She can do the same.

“I was 18, first time I’d gone to a bar. This creep, an older guy, kept hitting on me. Or I guess he was. It felt borderline threatening to be honest. He was big, scary looking. I gave him a fake name when he asked and then ducked out of there after claiming I had to go to the ladies.’”

“Smart move,” Jon assures her.

“Thanks.”

“Joffrey? It’s your turn,” Marg prompts next.

He rubs his chin and the bit of scruff there from where he’s not shaved in 48 hours. “Never have I ever fucked someone in this room.” Why must he be vulgar? And why is he glaring at her like that?

There’s a few uncomfortable chuckles with Myrcella blushing and Pyp’s ears turning red while Mya gives Grenn a furtive look. Then, Marg and Wylla toast each other and down their drinks and Sansa says, “Cheers to you both!” quickly seconded by the others.

“Did you two need a refill to play?” Joffrey asks as things are settling down again.

At first Sansa thinks he’s asking Marg and Wylla but then realizes he’s looking directly at her and Jon. “What?”

“Shut up.”

Jon looks nearly dangerous with his jaw clenched as he glares at Joffrey after saying that. He knows she dated Joffrey and now he knows she never slept with Joffrey but clearly Jon did not like Joffrey making veiled allusions about the two of them. Is that more of his gentlemanly behavior coming out or the fact that he has a girlfriend and doesn’t want such speculation running around?

The tension mounts, a little silent pissing contest without anyone peeing, until Joffrey smirks and looks away, taking another hearty swig from his bottle of tequila.

Margaery claps and moves things along. “Never have I ever caught my parents having sex.”

Sansa burns with mortification and yet she’s grateful for it when she’s the only one to take a sip of her wine. She can see Jon biting at his bottom lip in an attempt not to laugh and she’s grateful for that, too.

“Stop it,” she tells him, giving him a lighthearted swat on the shoulder before she starts snickering behind her hands. “They’re in love. That outweighs their eldest daughter’s lifelong mental trauma and refusal to ever enter a bedroom without knocking first ever again.”

“I’m glad they’re in love, Sansa. It’s sweet,” Jon says, giving into laughter at last. It makes her heart do some silly tap dance in her chest.

“It is.”

Joffrey’s attempt at making things awkward has been averted…for the time being.

The game breaks up at last with enough yawns and suggestions follow that they play again tomorrow night.

“I mean, we didn’t even get good and dirty with the questions this ‘round,” Mya laments.

We didn’t find out everyone’s relationship status either, Sansa thinks to herself.

Nevertheless, she’d had fun and got to know the guys who have joined their group a little better. She likes all three of them, far more than she likes the guy they’d brought here. But of course, she likes one of them very, very much. Maybe too much.

“I’m sorry about Joffrey,” Myrcella says glumly as she, Mya and Sansa are sharing the bathroom to brush their teeth.

“Would you stop? Just because we agreed to give him a ride for your sake doesn’t mean you’ve got to apologize or feel guilt over your brother and his behavior.”

“Mya’s right. Don’t apologize for him. We all know how he is and it’s not your fault. If Robb or Bran or Rickon had tagged along and then wound up stuck with us, I know you’d never make me feel bad over it.”

“But your brothers are sweet, Sansa…except for Robb,” Myrcella says, fumbling with her toothpaste.

“Excuse me?”

“I’d classify Robb as more hot than sweet.” Gods, she’s blushing as red as Sansa normally does.

“You’re not wrong,” Mya says as if this is a statement of fact and the two girls share a high five over Sansa’s head.

“How am I just now aware that two of my best friends, one of which is my roommate, thinks my older brother is hot?”

“He’s your brother. Of course, you don’t see it,” Myrcella shrugs.

“Wow…just wow.”

Sansa’s revelation is soon interrupted by a pounding on the bathroom door. It’s loud and insistent and enough to make her yelp around her mouth full of foamy paste.

“Hold your horses! We’re almost done,” Mya hollers.

“Or ask to use Marg and Wylla’s if it’s urgent!”

The couple had got the largest bedroom with a private bath so it’s the three girls and four guys sharing one. Cramped conditions but no worse than the dorm’s common bathroom on date night.

But there’s some rustling and voices coming through the door and something isn’t quite right. It’s almost like someone’s…sick.

“Oh gods!” Sansa exclaims, opening the door with toothpaste still at the corners of her mouth more than likely.

She gets it open just in time to see Joffrey ducking into her bedroom. This is followed by the unmistakable sound of retching and her stomach recoils in sympathy and protest.

“What the fuck, man?!” Grenn is shouting while Pyp’s dry heaving.

Jon goes in after Joffrey and promptly comes back out again. He gives Sansa an apologetic look. “I don’t think you’re going to want to sleep in there tonight.”

“Where should I sleep?” she asks, sounding strangely calm while her stomach is erupting with butterflies.

“Sorry ‘bout him. I could tell he was getting queasy and I kept trying to get him to get up and say something but he was being an ass about it.”

“It’s alright. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

Joffrey however? Ugh. He’d puked all over her bed after his tequila and cookie dough bender. Why couldn’t he have upchucked outside? Why her bed?!

Completely useless, he’s currently passed out on top of Sansa’s stripped bed still wearing his clothes with a throw blanket tossed over him without so much as apology, not that she expected one. Sansa hopes he wakes up with an incredibly foul taste in his mouth at the very least. She wishes his stupid friends hadn’t dumped him for term break even more.

It’s not so bad though. In fact, part of her is kind of relishing the change in sleeping arrangements as Sansa’s sharing one of the air mattresses in the common room with Jon.

“Sorry to impose on your spiffy new air mattress.”

He chuckles softly. Pyp and Grenn fell asleep a little while ago and its just the two of them talking in the dying firelight. His eyes are mesmerizing, a kaleidoscope of grey and violet in the half light. “I promise I infinitely prefer your company to his but I think I’d prefer an angry bear’s company to his.”

Jon had offered her his sleeping bag again and taken Joffrey’s. And this time, Jon’s sleeping bag smells like him and her both since he’d already been lying down before Joffrey got sick. She’s so snug and warm and determined not to think too hard about anything else tonight but this fluttery feeling he brings her.

She rolls to her side, facing him.  "So, Jon..."

He mimics her movement to face her.  "Yes, Sansa?"

"What's the story with your tattoo?"

He promptly rolls to his back and feigns snoring.  

"I told you stuff."

He chuckled and rubs a hand over his face.  "Yeah, you did.  It's a snowman."

"Awww!"

"I was drunk, like I said."

"The nickname?"

"Partly.  Pyp and Grenn saw it our first year at Castle Black in the dorm showers.  They've given me merry hell over it ever since." 

"In the showers, huh?" She lets her eyes flick up and down which she'd never do if she wasn't so pleasantly buzzed.

"It's on my lower back."

"How far down your lower back?"

He rolls towards her, eyes glittering with...something.  "Pretty far." 

Gods.  Did someone turn the heat up in here? 

He clears his throat and speaks again.  “I didn’t realize you were northern earlier. When we met initially and Mya said you were all from KLU, I assumed you were from the south like them. I didn’t hear the North in your voice until earlier when you lost it with Joffrey…”

She had kind of lost it in the face of vomit on her bed and her normal ladylike decorum had suffered. She’d let fly with some of the saltier northern expressions, too. At least her pillow had been safe in the common room from earlier. “My mom’s originally from the Riverlands. I always wanted to be just like her growing up. I guess I wanted to fit in down south in general once upon a time.”

“Not anymore?”

“No, it’s…different down there.”

“Yeah, it is,” he agrees with a rueful shake of his head.

“So, you’re from Castle Black?”

“No, I just went there for undergrad. I was raised in Wintertown.”

“Wintertown? Wintertown?!” She hurriedly sits up, gesturing between him and herself as he’s looking puzzled. “I’m from Winterfell!”

He sits up, too. Face to face, legs crossed as they sit a handful of inches apart on the mattress. “No way.”

“WAY!” She clamps a hand over her mouth, afraid of waking the other guys and they start snickering and smiling like goofs at each other. Gods, his smile.

They’re from two towns about thirty minutes apart at most, practically sister cities. And he goes to grad school in Rosby, just up the road from KLU. They met three times on the road before a reservation disaster had thrown them together to spend their term break vacations together. It feels like fate. And Sansa, with her romantic heart, is a strong believer in fate.

“So, were you a Townie then?” she teases, recalling Wintertown High’s mascot.

“Yeah, I was. Less vicious than Direwolves…except when it came to hockey.”

“You played hockey? What year did you graduate?”

“’16. You?”

“’19. But gods, you played…you might've known...”

He snaps his fingers and points at her hair, figuring it out before she can say it. “Robb Stark!”

“He’s my brother!”

“I hated that guy.”

“What?!”

He covers his mouth and her own with his hands, giving her a playful warning glance and a jerk of his chin towards the two guys asleep nearby. His hand is rough but also gentle and warm. It smells faintly of soap and chocolate chips. She kind of wants to lick it. What in seven hells?

“No, I didn’t really hate your brother. He was just my biggest rival. We were always facing off on the ice from peewee on up and, once we hit high school-”

“Oh my gods…you’re Snowman!”

He blushes a little. “Yeah, that was me.” Snow was his last name but he’d been dubbed Snowman by his teammates back then, a little nod to his prowess on the ice.

“Robb hated you, too…and admired you. He always talked about how good you were when you’d play each other.”

His blush deepens. “He was really good, too. I admired him as well. I…I think we might’ve been friends if not for the rivalry.”

There was a very long-standing rivalry between the two schools but Sansa could totally see Robb liking Jon if they’d met somewhere beside the ice. “I think you would be, too. He was sorry when you were injured.”

The archrival, Snowman, had missed most of his senior season and she recalled Robb regretting not ever getting a chance to best him on the ice. The Direwolves had finally beaten the Townies that year but he’d said it felt hollow without their best player out there. She can see the shadow in Jon’s eyes at the memory of that season. Those jerks from Dreadfort always played so dirty.

“Thanks. It was a hard blow not getting to play anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Sansa. Life goes on, has other plans for us sometimes.” He rubs at the back of his neck. It’s cute, kind of uncertain. “I don’t remember you from…did you come to the games?”

“I did even though I was three years behind. We all came. Our own little Wolf Pack of hockey mad fans with one anxious mother and sister in tow. I’m sure you would’ve been more focused on your game than the stands.”

“I was still a teenage boy with eyes.”

What did that mean? “Well, I was probably focused on a dozen other things besides supporting my brother. You wouldn’t have noticed me. I was utterly forgettable in high school, up until my senior year anyway. Skinny, long limbs and gawky.”

“I highly doubt that, Sansa. I’m sure you were beautiful then, too.”

Beautiful? He just called her beautiful, didn’t he? And his voice dropped so nicely there. Her breath catches as he leans forward on his fists. It’s like he’s leaning in.

“You’ve got a little toothpaste right there.” He nods towards the corner of her mouth, one hand coming up hesitantly.

"Oh gods!"  

Her tongue swipes it automatically but he watches her do it. He watches with those dark eyes and mimics the action with his own tongue.

Oh gods.

She’s been kissed enough times by now to know when a guy looks like he’s going to kiss her. And Jon looks ready to kiss her. She is very ready to be kissed.

Until his phone buzzes quietly on the mattress, a string of texts.

“Did someone ask for the massaging function?” she jokes awkwardly, leaning away and wishing her eyes wouldn’t stupidly fill with tears. What’s wrong with her? They’ve both been drinking. She was probably imagining it or he probably wasn’t thinking straight.

“Sorry, it’s Val again. Her sister’s having a baby. That’s why she was traveling up with us. Things have been kind of touch and go with the labor though. It’s why she called earlier. She was really freaked out though I think everything’s going to be alright. I pray it will be but…”

“Oh! Oh dear! Please, check it,” she gasps. Poor Val and her sister. Sweet baby.

But when Jon looks up from his phone, smiling and reporting that a healthy baby boy was born thirty minutes ago, Sansa’s glad for everyone involved.

Except for poor me who’s falling for you and not sure at all where things stand between us and between you and her. Never Have I Ever fallen in love on vacation…until maybe this trip.

It’s on the tip of her tongue to ask him about Val but she’s tired, tipsy and not sure she’s up for any more heartaches at present. A drunken admittance of interest only to be gently rebuffed would make the next couple of days far more awkward than anything Joffrey could manage.

“We should get some sleep,” she suggests. “Early day on the slopes.”

“Sure. Of course,” he agrees, pulling away a little bit as they settled down. “Goodnight, Sansa.”

But, as she’s drifting off for real this time, she feels his hand nudge hers between their sleeping bags. Refusing to read too much into that or her own actions, she covers his hand with her own.

Chapter Text

Frosty mornings in the North, snuggling under covers during term breaks.  She’s missed this. 

As girls, Sansa and her sister had fought often and vehemently but, on cold mornings if the power was out, they’d be burrowed under blankets together like two pups in their den, sharing secrets and giggling over silly things until their parents would call them down for oatmeal and cocoa warmed by the fire.

Later on, there’d been camping trips with school mates.  She remembers her and Jeyne Poole sharing a tent, giggling all night after filling up on toasted marshmallows while high on life and its possibilities. 

Podrick Payne had been the first boy she’d snuggled for warmth with on one of those trips.  He’d been Sansa’s first for lots of things and she’d loved him.  Like summer snows though, youthful passions can fade and, when he’d chosen to go to university in Lannisport, their flame had soon flickered out with his absence.   

Yeah, there’s been a couple of guys since Podrick but there’s been no legitimate need to snuggle for warmth with them.  None at all until this morning when she wakes next to Jon Snow in their cabin in the mountains where the heat has apparently gone out sometime overnight.

Someone’s up and bitching about the frigid conditions waking her and Sansa just knows Jon is regaining consciousness at the same moment she is. 

From holding hands, face to face, as they’d fallen asleep last night, she’s rolled and he’s scooched until he’s spooning her on the air mattress.  They're in sleeping bags but his arms are free and he’s got them wrapped around her, holding her close.  He’s holding her perfectly.  His whole body is molded around her backside and everywhere he’s touching her she’s warm while the rest of the world outside her sleeping bag seems like an icy abyss.   

His breathing changes and he begins to shift away.  “Don’t move.  You’re the only thing that’s keeping me from a violent, full body shiver at the moment.”

He chuckles at her scratchy-voiced plea.  The warmth of his breath is tantalizing on the back of her neck.  It’s like he had his face buried in her hair before they woke. “I swear I didn’t consciously wrap myself around you like a barnacle, Sansa.  I wouldn’t…I’m not the type of guy to take advantage or-” 

“I didn’t think you would be.  Besides, my big brother knows who you are, Snowman, and still has his hockey stick.”

More chuckling against the nape of her neck that makes her shiver with something other than the cold.  The question is, was he thinking of another girl he’s used to snuggling for warmth with when he was sleepily reaching for her?  Like Val?  Oh, that thought is depressing. 

“Well, I’m sorry if I…I don’t want to get slapped,” he says in a voice laced with shyness now.  He inches his hips back a smidgeon and oh yes.  There was something poking her that wasn’t the zipper of one of their bags, wasn’t there?  No wonder he sounds so shy despite his body’s heat.  She hides her face in her pillow as she grins, not minding at all.

But he did move away when she’d warned him not to.  Making good on her threat, she gives an enormous (and exaggerated) full body shiver that rocks and shakes their air mattress and has him laughing. A little tussling and a tickle battle threatens.  She’s actually on the verge of tickling him and letting him tickle her, this guy she met on the road approximately 32 hours ago.  She’s thrilled at the prospect of playfully roaming hands if she’s honest.  She wants his roaming hands on her and hopes she’ll be welcome to do the same under the guise of tickling.  They’re practically nose to nose with all their flopping around and it’d be no effort at all to lean forward and-

“Sleep well, did you?” an amused voice asks from the other side of the room.  Pyp’s awake and they’re not ‘alone’ in their little space anymore.

Sansa feels her face flushing and knows she should probably excuse herself to the bathroom…and calm down.  But she doesn’t want to. 

And, while his hold loosens some (he’s no longer impersonating a barnacle), Jon doesn’t let go of her completely either.  “Yeah, I slept great,” he answers Pyp in his deliciously gruff voice that she thinks must exist purely to threaten her panties. 

More movement from the others coming out of bedrooms though soon has Sansa’s tummy in knots in less pleasant ways.  Myrcella goes to check on Joffrey and declares him still alive.  Sansa had forgotten he's still around over night and that was nice. 

Cella and Mya then bustle around the kitchen talking about toast and eggs and Grenn joins them, saying he’ll brew coffee. She watches Grenn and Mya tiptoeing around each other which seems like something while Jon's arm hovers by her hip.  She drags his arm down to wrap around her, whispering she's getting very cold again.  The instant he replies with a squeeze, her heart feels it, too.  

She should definitely get up.  Jon should definitely let her go.  Neither one of them move.  It’s still mostly dark in this part of the cabin, kitchen light aside.  They can pretend no one sees them snuggling for warmth, pretending this is perfectly normal behavior for them when they just met the night before last. 

It’s not until Margaery appears wearing her Stitch onesie and somehow looking glamourous in it that they’re addressed directly.  “Sansa?  Want me to call the office?  Or should you since the reservation’s in your name?”

Shit.  The reservation is in her name and she should probably be the one to call about the heat.  She needs to ask them for the cleaning service for her bedroom, too.  She’s getting the damage deposit back from Joffrey one way or the other. 

“Yeah, I’ll…just a sec.” 

Jon’s arms are no longer around her so she rolls off the mattress feeling bereft.  She thinks he looks sort of bereft, too.  She hopes so anyway.  She picks up the cabin phone, makes her call and then slips into the bathroom wondering if she’ll spend all day wishing for Jon’s arms around her again and wondering if it’s wrong of her to wish for it. They need to have a talk about some things before she gets too far ahead of herself.  

When she comes out of the bathroom again, everyone else is either busy in the kitchen or in their respective bedrooms except Joffrey who's looking fusty and pale by the balcony's sliding glass door.  He's sneering at Jon who's out there alone.  And Jon, who's wearing the sleeping bag she'd been in slung around his shoulders like a cape, is talking on his cell phone.  

"Wonder if his girlfriend's buying his excuses about sleeping with you behind her back," Joffrey tells her meanly before he shoves his way past her into the now vacant bathroom.  

"Eggs are ready!" Mya declares. 

Sansa doesn't think she can eat them.

The heat’s being restored at their cabin and a cleaning service has been dispatched to bring her bedroom back to rights.  Will she sleep in it tonight though?  A real bed beats an air mattress but there’s the knowledge that Joffrey threw up and then laid on that mattress last night to go along with her knowledge of how nice it is to be snuggled by Jon as she sleeps.

Jon, who has a girlfriend, you idiot. 

Joffrey had been on the balcony when Jon had gone out to use the phone earlier before stepping back inside.  Joffrey had seen Val at the pancake house yesterday morning.  Clearly, Joffrey has the facts and overheard Jon talking to Val and came to the logical conclusion that Sansa’s romantic hopes have been trying to ignore.

On the way up the mountainside, the girls take one funicular car and the guys another so Sansa has the chance to quiz her friends for advice laying out all the evidence she has. 

“How does Joffrey know for a fact she’s his girlfriend?” Mya asks. 

“Yeah, Sansa.  Joffrey made an assumption.  You know what they say about assumptions,” Myrcella chimes in. 

“But it’s a rather logical assumption and…”

“You say you thought he was going to kiss you last night?” Wylla asks.

“I…I did.  But then Val called and the moment passed.”

“Okay, but did he act guilty over her calling when he’d been on the verge of pinning you to the mattress?”

“I wouldn’t go that far, Wylla and I don’t know that he looked guilty.  Just…concerned, I guess.”

“Well, if she’s a friend but her sister was having a baby and there was potential danger, he’d be concerned, wouldn’t he?  Why would he kiss you if he has a girlfriend?”

“Because men can be pigs, duh.” 

“I don’t think Jon is a pig, Mya.  Do you, Sansa?”

“No, Cella, but what if I only imagined he was going to kiss me?”

“Did you imagine his morning wood this morning, too?” Margaery asks with a gleeful look in her eye as their car comes to a stop. 

“He’s a guy.  That could happen without him intending it to…right?”

“Well, I say no more tiptoeing,” Mya announces as the four guys are stepping out of their own car.  “Hey, Jon?  Are you seeing Va-OW!”  Mya shoots Myrcella a dirty look for the pinch as Jon’s head’s whipping their way. 

“Sorry.”  Sansa knows Myrcella is but appreciates her acting to stop Mya, too.  She’s mortified at the thoughts of her friends asking Jon this for her in such an obvious way.  “Would you want me asking Grenn in front of everyone if he’s into you?” Myrcella adds, a hissed whisper. 

Mya’s mouth screws up but there’s a hint of panic in her eyes.  Thought so. 

Deciding to step in before things get really violent, Sansa says, “I’ll ask him.  Today.  Once we get a chance to be alone again, alright?”

Mya rubs her arm and gives Myrcella a pinch in return before turning on her.  “You’d better.  No point worrying this to death and it may help decide tonight’s sleeping arrangements for better or worse.”  She then pretends she was going to ask Jon something about his skis when he walks over. 

From there, they all get set to ski so no heart-to-heart conversations are held.  One run is followed by another and a smile keeps creeping up on Sansa’s face despite her worries.  Down the slope, she flies, free as a bird.  Her cheeks sting from the cold but it’s a pleasant sort of sting.  It’ll make warming up later all the more enjoyable.  Sansa’s lungs are full of fresh air, her muscles are already aware they’re getting some exercise and the snow makes the nicest whooshy sound beneath her skis.  The sky is blue and the sun is shining (good thing she’s got her dark-tinted goggles on) and it’s perfect out here.  This was why they came all this way.  

(Okay, she did say she mostly wanted to sit around in cute sweaters by the fire sipping hot cocoa with her friends to Jon but she wasn’t not going to ski while she’s here.)

She adjusts her goggles and prepares to tackle the next slope, all that fresh powder laid out before her. 

Here at least, she can ignore any potential issues.

Like the damage deposit she might not get back or Joffrey getting into an argument over the snowmobile he’s attempting to rent claiming he knows all about jet skis and these are obviously no different or the long ride back to KLU it'll be with him grumbling over everything. 

Or Jon Snow looking far too handsome for words in his ski get-up and slicing his way down the hill at her back like he was born solely to excel at winter sports.

Here, she can just be. 

“Looking good, Stark!” Wylla whoops as she passes her by. 

“I’m going to die here!” Margaery yelps.  Wylla’s got her by the hand and is tugging her along.  Margaery’s definitely in the cocoa by the fire in cute sweaters camp. 

Sansa waves at her friends, laughing at Margaery’s dramatics.  She hears Joffrey’s debate with the snowmobile rental guy coming to an end and decides to shove off herself before she has to watch him peel out like an idiot.  She hopes he makes a fool of himself on it.  Just don't hit any animals.   

Her speed increases as gravity makes its presence felt heading down the hill.  The snow-covered trees whip past her in the distance.  There’s a hawk circling up above and there in the woods she’d swear she sees…

“A wolf!” 

She gasps and slows her descent at the edge of the run to get a better look.  She's always loved wolves.  Once a Direwolf, always a Direwolf.

Spellbound, she watches the animal, huge and grey loping along the shadowy tree line where it's snow and pine needles mixed.  She wonders where its pack is or why it’s risking coming so close to people but mostly, she’s charmed, fascinated.  She stands there gaping too long.  

“WATCH OUT!!” 

Awkwardly, she spins as best she can on her skis, realizing too late that the motorized whirr of a snowmobile has been getting closer and closer.  It’s Joffrey, flying downhill towards her with his arms flapping like a wounded bird’s and apparently completely out of control of the machine between his knees.  He’s going to run her down!  

She tries moving but her skis are crossed and get tangled.  She's going to fall!  She’s going to be road kill on her road trip, doomed to be the girl who got run over during term break by a snowmobile driven by the idiot who's not only determined to spoil her trip but maim her while he's at it!  What a disaster!

Except she isn’t Joffrey's road kill. 

The impact when it comes is significant but not as bad as she’s expecting.  It's also sooner than expected and comes from the wrong angle.  She was rooted in place one second with Joffrey barreling towards her.  The next, she finds herself half-buried beneath a warm and familiar weight in a snowbank with all the wind knocked out of her. 

“Gods, are you alright?!  Did I hurt you?!  Sansa, open your eyes for me, sweetheart!  Please!”

Sweetheart?  Did he just call her-

Never mind that!  You’re in PAIN!

“Owwwwww,” she whines after sucking in a breath.  Her eyes flutter open to find Jon hovering over her, cradling her body with the utmost tenderness after tossing his goggles, skis and poles aside.   

“I’m so sorry!  I was just trying to get you out of his way as quickly as possible but-”

She reaches up with one gloved hand to cover his mouth, his sweet mouth with those lovely pouty lips.  “Don’t you dare apologize for saving my life, Jon.”

The fear and anguish in his eyes is cut in half as the hint of a smile blooms under her glove.  “Are you hurt badly?  Can you feel your toes?”  He’s thrown his gloves aside now and is stroking her face with his warm hands, looking at her so…something.  She’s not imagining it all, is she?  Is this just him being concerned about the injured damsel in distress or more? 

“I can feel my toes.  I think my pride was more injured than anything...except my hip…and elbow.  Ow.” 

She makes a feeble (very feeble) attempt to rise but Jon's not having it.  “No, no, you’re staying right there until we get you checked over and then I’m taking you back to the cabin to rest.”  There’s some medics from the ski patrol coming her way already.  And he's taking her back to the cabin?  Alone??

“Hot cocoa by the fire sounds lovely,” she says, dreamily.

“You’ll get all the hot cocoa you want, sweetheart."

"Sweetheart," she repeats and, if his cheeks weren't already pink from the cold, she'd swear he'd be blushing. 

"Ahem...and once you’re settled by the fire with your cocoa in your cute sweater, I’m kicking his ass," Jon finishes, all dark and growly, as he jerks his chin over his shoulder towards Joffrey.

Sansa turns her head trying to see what became of him.  Did he hit a tree?  Can that wolf gobble him up for her?  No, he's sitting beside the snowmobile which is currently rammed into a tree, crying his eyes out with a bloody nose.  Gods...

Chapter Text

Cute sweater?

Check.

Hot cocoa with marshmallows and whipped cream? (We go all out here when it comes to our cocoa even if it’s the canned variety of whipped cream.)

Check.

Jon Snow by her side?

Check.

Their friends or Joffrey Baratheon anywhere in sight?

No, thank the gods.

Wearing his own ski resort-appropriate cute black cable knit sweater (which clings to his fit frame quite nicely, thank you very much), Jon has rearranged the cabin’s furniture so the air mattresses are stacked in a corner and they can relax on the sofa in front of the fire he’s just finished stoking back to life.

Yes, the heat’s working again but the fire is lovely after the frosty morning out in the cold. And getting rammed into a snowbank to avoid being snowmobile road kill.

“How are you feeling?”

“Just a bit sore but overall much better, thanks.”

The medics had checked her out and declared her fit enough to head back to her cabin for recouperation if she wished which she did. They’d been working on a crying Joffrey when Jon had escorted her away. Which was just as well because, despite Jon’s growly promise to kick his ass, all of her friends, including his own sister, had been lining up to give Joffrey a piece of their mind, broken nose or not, for his stupidity on the snowmobile, losing control of it so quickly and nearly hitting Sansa.  It was nice to have friends who always had her back.  And yeah, part of her wouldn’t exactly mind Jon taking a chunk out of Joffrey but she’d rather have his company than watch him getting charged with assault or something.

All her marshmallows and (canned) whipped cream have melted already. Good thing Jon brought the can over. She squeezes the nozzle for a fresh dollop and he’s snickering at her.

“What? It helps cool it down.”

“You can just blow on it.”

“Yeah but this way is tastier.”

She licks some off her spoon to prove the point and she doesn’t miss the way his eyes drop to her tongue as he gruffly says, “Right.”

They sit in silence a few minutes after that as they hold the steaming hot cocoa and take tentative sips.

So, what now? She’d told her friends she’d ask him about Val and their relationship status and she’s not a coward but she’d like to tackle this gracefully if possible. How does she start this conversation?

Before she can say a word however, he sighs and starts fishing his buzzing phone out of his pocket. That phone of his is becoming as much of a nemesis as Joffrey by this point. She hopes he doesn’t hop up and leave the room to answer it.  She feels decidedly downcast over that potential scenario.  

However, it must just be a text because she watches his eyes widen and then dart towards her quickly as he stifles what sounds like a snort. Then, he pockets it again without replying. What was that?

“Sorry,” he says, taking too big a sip of his cocoa and grimacing when it burns his tongue. “Shit.”

“Open wide.” She holds the can in the air above his head. He laughs but does as she tells him. A large shot of whipped cream fills his mouth (and some gets in his moustache which is too cute for words.) “Better?” she asks, giggling like mad to match the merriment in his eyes as she innocently brushes that bit off his moustache. 

Her giggles fade away as he licks a little leftover creamy residue away after swallowing and stares longingly at her thumb.  “Better. My scorched tongue says thank you.”

“You can tell your tongue I said, you’re welcome.”

Did she really just say that?! What kind of weirdo…but gods be good, does he have to stare at her like that?!

Meanwhile, if you were looking for an introduction to the topic…

“Was that Val?” She nods towards the pocket holding his phone and notes the way he shifts away from her, almost like he’s embarrassed or maybe guilty. Shit.

“Uh...yeah.”  He's rubbing the back of his neck.  What's that mean?  

Just ask. “I hope everything is alright…with the sister and her baby.”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.”

“She called you earlier and then texted you just now. Was that another update?” ASK HIM!

“Not exactly.” He’s blushing. Why is he blushing?

He starts to open his mouth but she blurts it out first. “Is Val your girlfriend, Jon?”

His eyes widen and his blush disappears for a second as he’s setting his hot cocoa down. “What? No!” Then, the blush is making a rapid comeback. “Val’s not my girlfriend.” His grey eyes settle on hers, appraisingly. “I don’t…I don’t have a girlfriend, Sansa.”

“Oh,” she says in a voice that won’t rise above a whisper suddenly. It’s like he sucked all the air out of the room with his news but in a good way.

“I’ve known Val since undergrad. Alright, we tried dating briefly when we were eighteen but it was kind of a disaster to be honest. We don’t click that way and we’ve just been friends for a long time now. We’re close but not like that, not at all.”

“Oh,” she says again. It’s like it’s the only word she knows now.

“Do you…I know you said you and Joffrey weren’t but is there a guy who’s…”

She shakes her head, not even managing a pathetic ‘oh’ now. Why can’t she be cool for once? She is grinning so big. She must be wearing a sign over her head with the way she’s grinning at him.

But the nice thing is, he’s grinning right back at her.

“You seemed close when I saw you with her."  

“Yeah well, we are close, like I am with Pyp and Grenn and like you and your friends. Close friends always figure us out first. She saw you at the convenience store and, by the time we ran into you all at breakfast the next morning, she had me figured out.”

“I don’t understand.” She does maybe but she’s afraid to hope too soon.

He’s still grinning and blushing as he pulls his phone back out of his pocket. He swipes it open and shows her the last text he got from Val:

Have you kissed her yet, dummy?

She thinks she might gasp and then she’s hiding behind her mug and laughing quietly to herself. Val figured him out and wants to know if he's kissed her yet. 

When she lowers her hands again, she knows her face is every bit as pink as his, probably pinker. “Do you want to kiss me, Jon?”

He takes her mug of hot cocoa away and sets it down beside his before taking her hands in his. He pivots to face her on the sofa and leans forward just enough when he answers, “Oh yeah.  I've been wanting to kiss you for hours and hours and hours.”

That stupid grin will never leave her face, she’d swear, but she doesn’t care because then he does kiss her and it’s simply perfect.

Ninety minutes of time alone at the cabin follows.

Ninety minutes that alternate between heart-racing and blissful while they kiss and talk, kiss and eat a late lunch and then kiss and talk and kiss some more. It’s decidedly hotter in the cabin between the fire, the working heater and them than it was this morning...even when he was wrapped around her like a barnacle.

And yes, he agreed and allowed me the opportunity to find his tattoo on his lower, lower, lower back.

Eventually though, everyone shows back up…everyone except Joffrey.

“Where is he?” Sansa asks Mya quietly trying to determine if Myrcella’s sunny smile indicates that their friends just offed her brother and she doesn’t care or doesn’t know it yet.

“He’s got a place to stay for now and then a flight to catch,” Mya says, cryptically.

“Your hair’s a mess and you’ve got a love bite on your neck,” Margaery announces with a smirk before Sansa can query Mya further.

Pyp walks over to Jon and tugs at his t-shirt’s collar. His sweater is still thrown over the back of the sofa from when things had gotten heated and she’d found that tattoo. “Ditto for him. Messy hair and a hickey. What’s that about, Snowman?”

“Don’t call me Snowman,” he grumbles even as he’s starting to laugh.

“‘Bout time!” Mya declares.

Myrcella claps to express her happiness for them (not at all like a girl who just watched her brother get shoved in a wood chipper or something so that’s promising.)

“About time?” Sansa huffs, though she feels her cheeks getting red all over again. “We just met approximately…”

She’s trying to tally up the hours but stops when Jon wraps his arm around her waist. “Yeah, we decided to stop wasting time. Term-break trips don’t last forever…” Then, he turns to face her. “But I’d like to think road trip romances can lead to something long term.”

“Me, too,” she replies quietly as the others are laughing at the twitterpated pair of them.

“What about you, Grenn?” Jon asks next with a smug look.

His friend who was laughing with the rest becomes fascinated with his boots but Sansa’s grinning at the way him and Mya keep darting covert looks each other’s way. They’ll get there maybe.

“Alright,” she says to Myrcella once dinner is done. “What’s become of Joffrey?”

Myrcella is a beautiful girl, inside and out, and when she smiles, you just want to smile back.

But the hint of mischief in her eyes as she takes Sansa aside to give details makes her wonder if this particularly chipper Cella and a missing Joffrey does involve a wood chipper somehow.

“Oh, Sansa, it was wonderful! He broke his nose and ankle in the crash...”

“Cella?!” Sansa stammers in shock. She's seen this girl gently capture insects to set free outdoors rather than squashing them.  

“No, that’s not what's wonderful, of course.  Poor Joffy." 

She attempts a frowny face but her grin creeps right back. 

"What was wonderful though is the man who rented him the snowmobile was so angry that he’s going to sue him for every last cent of damages to the vehicle and, since he hadn’t wanted to rent it to him in the first place, he says if there’s a way to press criminal charges he will and, when Joffy tried to use his ‘do you know who I am and wait until I tell my mother and father about this,’ the man said, ‘I don’t give a shit about your mom and pop’ and then he called Mother and you know how Joffy’s always been her favorite even though she acts like he’s not but clearly he is and, when she found out what had happened, rather than siding with him like he just assumed, she went into a rage and threatened to cut off his funds, not that she probably will, but I heard every single word of it and I need to call Tommen tonight so we can properly relish this triumph together and…”

It seems Myrcella has built up a good deal of sibling resentment over the years towards her older brother.  Honestly, her brother is Joffrey. Who in seven hells can blame her?

And if her friend is thrilled that their mother is now, very angrily, on her way to pick up her oldest from ‘some gods-forsaken clinic in the wilderness,’ Sansa will only say she is as well.

At least, I don’t have to ride back to KLU with that ass.

“Who’s up for drinks?” Wylla asks.

“And another round of Never Have I Ever maybe?” Margaery adds.

Sansa turns from Myrcella to find Jon talking with Pyp and Grenn. All three guys nod but then Jon’s eyes are on her, questioning.

“Yeah, we’ll play,” Sansa answers.

"Never have I ever had sex on the sofa by the fire."

"Wylla!"

"Do you mean that particular sofa or any sofa by a fire?" Cella asks for clarification...and to take the heat off Sansa and Jon perhaps.

"It's not your turn, Wylla.  Sansa?" Mya says.  

“Never have I ever hitchhiked,” Sansa states and hardly anyone takes a shot except…

“Grenn!”

“Car broke down,” he tells Mya sheepishly. “I semi knew the guy from class but not really. Does that count?”

“Counts enough to get you hurt. Didn’t you have a phone?”

“It was cold out.”

“I told you I would’ve come to get you,” Jon adds.

“I can take care of myself.”

“I could totally kick your ass,” Mya huffs.

“Are you two flirting or-” Pyp swallows the rest of his question at Grenn’s murderous glare and says the story counts as hitchhiking if Grenn wants to take a shot.

“Never do that again.”

Grenn nods at Mya's warning.  

Sansa’s so busy watching the interchange that she doesn’t realize Jon’s leaned close until he whispers, “I would never want you to hitchhike but would you possibly want a different ride home from here?”

Her tummy swoops with giddiness before she considers it a little more. “You mean me, you, Pyp and Grenn?”

“Only part of the way. They're not in grad school so they'll be dropped off North of the Neck.”

“And Val?” She doesn’t have any problem with Jon's friend but she doesn’t necessarily want this nascent thing to be shared with his long-time gal pal in the car either.

“No, she’s taking a longer break to be with her sister and the baby. Rosby’s not so far from KLU and we could talk during the drive. Only if you like though. We could caravan with your friends if that makes you more comfortable.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“I’m glad but I completely understand if you’d rather stick with them. Whatever you choose, Sansa.”

“Let me think about it,” she tells him though she knows which way she’s leaning.

“Pyp and Grenn can ride with us but we’ll caravan with you. Wouldn’t want to miss having pancakes with you and Jon comes in handy if there’s a flat.  We can switch if you get sick of him,” Myrcella says, having overheard them apparently.

Everyone else nods as though it’s been decided and she's can't say she minds when she looks at Jon.  Sometimes, friends can be insufferable…and Sansa wouldn’t trade hers for anything.

The party games and drinks end a little earlier tonight with everyone tired from the slopes. They have one more full day here before it’ll be time for most of them to head back south.

For tonight, Sansa reclaims her bedroom after deciding all signs of Joffrey’s night in here have been sufficiently exorcised from the place.

And she’s not spending her night in here alone.

“You’re sure?” Jon asks as he closes the door behind him.

He’s not asking about sex because they’d already agreed earlier that they weren’t taking that step yet. It definitely could’ve happened earlier on the sofa in front of the fire but, beyond kissing, finding his little snowman tattoo and lots of making out, they’d not gone that far and that had suited Sansa…for now.

“Definitely. Besides, we’ve been alternating between sharing this bed and your air mattress so it’s our turn for the bed.”

He laughs quietly at her silly reasoning. “Does that mean we’re sharing the air mattress tomorrow night, sweetheart?”

Ooh, there he goes calling her sweetheart and she knows it might not be too long for all the rest. “Not necessarily. Pyp and Grenn might enjoy having their own air mattresses to spread out on.”

They dress for bed without a lot of fanfare, both in joggers and comfortable tees, and lay down together. Immediately, she’s pulled up against him, warm and snug and happy.

“What are you thinking?” she asks him as his hands start gliding through her hair.

“I’m thinking how glad I am they fucked up our reservation. And, glad you guys had a flat…and wanted pancakes. And…”

“I’m glad for all of it, too.”

“Who would believe we grew up a town apart but met this way?”

“I know, right? Speaking of which…” She reaches for her phone and he’s looking at her questioningly. “Did you ever reply to Val?”

“Not yet.”

“You should answer her tomorrow maybe,” she says as she opens her phone’s camera and holds it up above them to take a selfie.

She can see him grinning at the camera but then he quickly kisses her cheek just as she takes the pic.

“Perfect,” she says as she starts to send it.

“Who are you-”

He starts laughing when he sees the text she's sent along with the picture to Robb:

Term-break trip going well and Snowman says hello!