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The bus was running late, again. Though she was hardly surprised that her carefully planned morning commute had been disrupted for the third time that week, having watched the speed and size of the snowflakes double since she'd ventured out into the winter half an hour ago, Brienne still let out a deep sigh as she checked her watch. Staring down the perfectly pristine road, the whole scene looked like it belonged on the kind of Winterfest card her Great Uncle Endrew would forget to send.
"Godsdammit," she grumbled as an expensive, but nondescript, car crawled past, breaking into a frozen puddle to send up a wave of icy water that only narrowly missed her.
Feeling her fingers start to tingle from prolonged exposure to the cold, Brienne pushed her hands deeper into the wonderfully insulated pockets of her winter coat. She idly wondered, if Catelyn Stark hadn't have been offering the job of her dreams, whether she would have ever thought to move so far north and give up on the life she wasn't living in Highgarden. Though she now knew that the fiercely fought for promotion had come with pages of perks beyond the fancy 'keeper of antiquities' title, including a closely knit team of eager researchers, bartering rights on her choice of exhibits, and an office that was bigger than her first apartment, it didn't mean Brienne had stopped missing the milder climes of The Reach on those mornings where the world of winter seemed to be mocking her choices. But, as she wished she'd remembered to collect both her padded gloves and earphones Brienne tried not to focus on what she had left behind. It was for the best, so that she did not add her former thesis advisor, Renly Baratheon, to the list of things she missed, coming to the painful realisation some months ago that it was a futile path to start meandering down again, especially as the last time she'd returned home had been for his wake, but also so not to give Catelyn any reason to doubt the trust she'd put in her.
Even knowing she would understand if Brienne couldn't make it in to open up the offices before the rest of the museum staff arrived, like she did every other day, Dacey had a spare set of keys just in case, didn't negate the guilt starting to swirl in her empty stomach as the bus finally rounded the corner. Her fellow commuters seemed to heave a collective sigh of relief at the sight, clouds of foggy breath moving through the already crowded air until it felt like they were adding to the droplets of icy condensation running down the windows of the double decker slowing to a loitering purr in front of them.
Brienne tried not to scowl as she stomped her feet and slid gracelessly up the stairs, the driver appearing to be in a worse mood than any one of the boarding passengers, waving her up onto the second level without more than a cursory glance at her battered travel pass. On a normal day, she would have gone back to make sure she'd been properly accounted for but, instead, she headed up the spiral staircase, ducking just in time to avoid banging her head. As far as she could see, there was only one seat left on the upper deck, three rows from the front, next to a thirty-something blond man who was so beautiful that when he turned to question why her ugly face was marring his eye line, Brienne found it hard to catch her breath for an agonisingly drawn out moment.
"Do I know you?" he asked accusatorially as soon as she found enough sense to swallow the flash of attraction and stride over to claim the space currently being used by his messenger bag, uncomfortably hovering while he stared up with green eyes that glinted dangerously like a fiery sunset stretching out over uncut grass.
Brienne sighed inwardly. No wonder no one else wanted to sit beside him, but she had nowhere else to go and didn't really want to venture back down into a claustrophobic mess. "I'm pretty sure your bag didn't pay for a seat."
His lips twitched, curling into a half smirk as he slowly gave her the once over, only clearing the space when he had finished studying her uncontrollably blushing cheeks to meet her gaze. "Did you have to pay extra for your legs?"
"Excuse me?"
"Your legs go on for days," he informed her bluntly, though not too cruelly, as she folded herself into the constricted space. He turned his head to watch the snow’s continued drifting descent while she struggled to find a comfortable position without having to press her thigh or hip or shoulder against his. But Brienne could still feel the weight of his sweeping stare even as she hypocritically studied the sculpted line of his jaw out of the corner of her eye.
"Are you sure I don't know you?" he asked again, a hint of amusement slipping into his tone, though he kept his focus on the deteriorating weather rather than any part of her warming embarrassment. "It's okay if you need to take another minute to make sure. Look as long and as hard as you want."
She had to admit there was something vaguely familiar about the stranger at her side, though that could have been down to his attitude more than anything else. Over the years, she'd dealt with her fair share of men, attractive and not so much, who'd found it entertaining to tease and flirt with such a hideous creature as the one she saw staring back at her in the mirror.
"If you're always like this," she growled in reply, knowing it wouldn't be enough to keep him quiet but still hoping all the same. "Then I would have remembered if we'd met."
He raised a golden eyebrow, the small movement betraying how his interest in the outside world was waning, huffing as she accidentally jabbed him with an elbow. "And that's not to mention my good looks or charm."
"Or your humility."
She couldn't be sure if the next spluttering breath that escaped his lips was a laugh or a cough or even a badly timed sigh, but he recovered too quickly for her analytical mind to process each of the possible options. "I don't know what it's like where you're from," he dismissed her barbed comment with a wry smile that spoke of things she had no desire to delve deeper into. "But my family has never seen the value of modesty." He pulled an unreadable face as he left the whirlwinds of white unwatched, choosing instead to sweep an inquisitive eye over the broad slope of her shoulders. "A lion doesn't concern himself with the opinion of the sheep, Legs."
Brienne made sure he saw the roll of her eyes, wanting to correct him but stopping herself just in time as she wondered if giving a stranger her name was in her best interest. "And what's that supposed to mean? Other than confirming that you're a pretentious, self-important pretty boy."
"Thank you." He didn't miss a beat, playfully narrowing his eyes until only a glinting spark of wildfire remained as he slowly ran his fingers through the artfully mussed tangle of his mane. "I'll be sure to tell my father that his platitudes are being so well received the next time I see him. I doubt he's ever had such a stubborn, giant beast of a woman ever call him out like that before. Even if she does have astonishing eyes." He grinned and Brienne bristled in the moment of silence that followed.
As the bus slid around an unexpectedly icy corner and momentum pushed her flush against him, shoulder to hip, hip to knee, she blushed angrily all over again, feeling forced to clench her fist as her hand brushed the toned muscles in his thigh, threatening to land in his lap.
"Usually you'd have to buy me a couple of drinks before we get to that point," he joked, the bus jerking back the other way, an arm wrapping around her thick waist to stop her from falling off the seat as his bag hit the floor and the contents scattered. "Or at least give me your name."
She considered that as the driver persuaded them back onto the original path, another lurch forward causing her to forget the need for propriety and take hold of the seat in front of her while the man at her side swore under his breath as her blunt fingernails dug into his skin, just as she was pulled tighter against him. "I should have stayed in bed this morning," she mumbled to herself, listening to him chuckle as a genuine smile flashed like a shooting star across his face.
"I really must have made an impression if you're thinking about going back to bed already," he volleyed in return. Though, as he awkwardly retrieved his arm from where he'd been holding her and beamed again, it almost felt more like an involuntary joke, rather than any real attempt to burrow further under her burning skin. "I'm..."
"I'm Brienne," she offered before he could finish, swallowing hard as she extended her right hand like he was just another potential exhibitor and not someone she'd practically been on top of only a moment ago. "And I'm sorry."
"Jaime." He squeezed her fingers as he took her hand and they were colder than they should be, considering he'd been out of the elements for longer. Under the sleeves of her coat, Brienne could feel goose bumps beginning to prickle, the recent memory of his hand gripping her waist sending another shiver along her skin as her thoughts wandered into scenarios that involved the need or want for Jaime's touch elsewhere. "And if it's any consolation, I've been scratched far worse by my nephew's kittens."
She tried to return his smile, though, with her mind now racing, Brienne found it easier to let her eyes dart around the upper deck, preventing her imagination from running into more and more embarrassingly exciting situations. Her gaze almost immediately caught on one of the scarlet and gold cards that had fallen from Jaime's bag, sparkling in the lazy morning light as they lay strewn across the floor. "You work at the Casterly Bank?" she blurted out as soon as the tiny lion logo was recognised, inadvertently diverting herself from the subjects undressing in her head.
"Not for long. Maybe in the last year. Since the Winterfell branch opened." She nodded absently as he talked, stretching down to rescue any of the cards that weren't already disintegrating from continued exposure to melting snow and ice dragged up by passengers. "We really lucked out with the location, though," Jaime explained proudly. "Most of the other branches are surrounded by shops or other banks but we've got the best coffee house outside of Kings Landing right on our doorstep and a museum around the corner that seems to have a new exhibit every couple of months."
"The Great North Museum?"
"Yeah, that's the one. Do you know it? They're the only place this far north that has conference rooms grand enough for the board of trustees."
"I know it," she replied vaguely, shuffling the cards in her hands as she cast her mind back to the series of conferences the museum had recently put on, wondering if she had possibly caught a glimpse of Jaime on the stairs or in the lobby. Or perhaps he had seen her inspecting the artefacts they had on display.
"My brother's been telling me that The Doom of Valyria show that's opening up in a couple of weeks looks like it'll be one of their best. Although, he also enjoyed The Secrets of The Citadel," he grimaced, the action falling somewhere between bored and amiable. "I think they had to throw us out that day. If I remember rightly, they did have something on about pre-rebellion era chivalry, the old Kingsguard, too, but it was the books that Tyrion was interested in."
"Gods, you have no idea how difficult it was to get those manuscripts. We had to promise the Grand Maester no one but the archivists would touch them. And there were temperature and light considerations, too. Knights are far easier. All you have to do is work out how the armour goes together and the swords and..." Brienne felt her eyes widen, disbelieving that she had shared so much so quickly, despite Jaime having brought up one of her favourite subjects. "I..."
"So you're an archivist," he mused, turning in his seat to give her his full attention, their shoulders brushing and knees knocking. She hadn't noticed until then that Jaime was struggling with the cramped space almost as much as she was, the likelihood that he'd barely have to look up at her when they stood sending another wave of heat through Brienne so forcefully that she almost missed his next suggestive comment. "If you happened to have any insider knowledge I could hold over my brother until the unveiling, I'm sure I would find an appropriate way to repay you."
"N-no," she stuttered, unsuccessfully ignoring his battered eyelashes and wickedly promising smile. "I’m the k-keeper. I’m in charge and that's not...fair. You'll just have to wait in line with everyone else."
"Are you sure there's nothing I can't tempt you with?"
"I-I'm sure."
Jaime pouted, though the remaining glint in his eyes told her that he was entirely serious, and, in that moment, Brienne swore she couldn't tell if she'd rather kiss or curse him. Realising she'd been staring a little too long only when he started to drag his teeth over his no longer protruding lower lip, a bark of laughter broke the facade, as he considered her chapped lips in return.
"But...but we do hold a behind the scenes tour once a month if you wanted to..."
"Yes."
"You didn't let me finish," she chastised with a huff and his grin widened.
"Go on then, we haven't got all day."
"To c-come?"
"Yes."
She had lost track of their journey at some point in the last fifteen minutes, the snow crusted windows blurring the traffic and houses and landmarks, but apparently Jaime had been able make sense out of nothing as he suddenly reached over to push the bell. "Sorry, Legs, this is my stop."
"Brienne," she sighed, handing back the neat pile of business cards while peering out through the falling snow to find she still had some ways to go, the museum so big that the official visitor’s stop wasn't anywhere near the employee’s entrance.
"I know," Jaime promised, checking his bag was repacked properly and deliberately sliding too close past her as she stood politely, Brienne feeling gratified to discover he was almost eye to eye with her. "I just like 'Legs' better."
"Jaime," she muttered irritably, lost for the words that would sum up the jangling symphony of emotions he had stirred up as he headed for the stairs with a parting wink that felt like a promise in itself that they would see each other again. But, just as she was about to struggle into her seat, he was back, overstepping the bounds of commuter camaraderie by chastely grazing his soft lips along her cheekbone and near purring in her ear.
"Goodbye, Brienne."
She spent the next minute and a half in complete shocked silence, remembering just in time to stagger down the stairs as her stop approached from out of the blizzard. As she waited for the bus to slow, the driver gruffly called out to her. "The guy who got off at the last stop asked me to give you something. I told him I'm not a bloody messenger service but people like that never listen." He pointed to one of the attractively embossed business cards Brienne had been nervously playing with, propped up against the ticket machine.
From where she was standing there was nothing to mark it out as special, though, as she turned it over and over in her hands, a brief but important message had been scrawled across the back. Coffee? Jaime had hurriedly suggested in the worst handwriting she'd ever seen, followed by a string of numbers that appeared to belong to his cell phone. Or dinner? I'm easy.
With a happily disbelieving smile, Brienne pocketed the best offer she'd ever wanted to receive, pulling up her hood as the doors opened and stepped out into a strangely hopeful morning.