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Jon’s unsuccessfully trying to sleep when he hears a knock on his door. Smiling, he gets up to let Sam in.
It had almost become routine for Sam and Jon to visit each other’s cells every few nights once they’d realized they both had trouble sleeping at the Wall. They’d complain about the day’s training, tell stories, or simply sit in silence and enjoy one another’s company. The first few times Sam visited, he was concerned he was being a bother to Jon. Jon had rushed to reassure him, saying he always looked forward to evenings in Sam’s company.
“Can’t sleep?” Jon asks.
Sam shakes his head.
Jon almost laughs. “Neither can I.”
“Might as well join you, then,” Sam says.
Sam closes Jon’s door and crosses to take a seat on the floor. Ghost immediately jumps off of Jon’s bed, plops down next to Sam, and lays his head in Sam’s lap.
“Traitor,” Jon tells his direwolf.
It isn’t a surprise. Ghost has liked Sam since they met and seems to like him more each day. Sometimes he even abandons Jon to seek Sam out. One morning, Jon couldn’t find Ghost anywhere. Since Ghost seemed to be getting more independent, Jon was terrified he’d run away. To his great relief, he found Ghost curled up at Sam’s feet at lunchtime.
Sam pets Ghost’s head, making a delighted Ghost start panting. “Somebody’s missed me,” Sam says, smiling.
Jon climbs off the bed and sits down on Ghost’s other side. Sam raises an eyebrow.
Shrugging, Jon looks over. “Hey, he’s my wolf too.”
“I suppose that’s fair.”
The three of them sit in silence, Sam scratching Ghost’s head and Jon petting his fur. Jon’s not sure what to say; there’s a nervous fluttering in his stomach that makes it hard to think. He’s distracted by wanting to move closer, but of course Ghost’s in the way. Ghost seems to spend more time with Sam these days than Jon does.
“So,” Jon says, finally breaking the silence. “Read anything interesting lately?”
Sam’s face lights up. “Yes! I found this great book in the maester’s quarters…” He pauses. “You don’t mind hearing about it, do you?”
Quickly, Jon shakes his head. “No, no, not at all!” he says. “Please tell me, I really do want to hear.”
“All right,” says Sam.
Sam’s still a bit nervous at first, but soon hits his stride explaining the story. It involves dragons and magic and does sound interesting, but Jon’s having trouble concentrating on the words. He feels guilty, because he knows Sam rarely gets to talk about books, and he deserves someone to pay full attention. Jon wasn’t lying about wanting to listen; he likes listening to Sam read, this way he doesn’t worry about what to say. Normally on nights like these, when he doesn’t feel like chatting too much, just being around Sam is enough to make him happy. Tonight, however, his stomach won’t stop squirming.
It occurs to Jon that he could move in closer to Sam. He wants to. But how would Sam react? He doesn’t want to make Sam uncomfortable. Maybe if he tries to move in a tiny bit closer—subtle enough to close the distance a bit, but not obvious enough for Sam to notice? That could work.
He glances at Sam, preparing to shuffle slightly over. He gets about an inch closer when Ghost flops down, dropping his head in Sam’s lap. Jon stares at him, sprawled over Sam, closing the space between the two of them. Now, there’s barely any room for Jon to move at all.
Blushing, Jon turns to Sam. Thankfully, Sam’s looking at Ghost fondly. He didn’t seem to notice Jon moving. Jon feels the heat rising in his face, and hopes Sam doesn’t notice that either.
“What do you want?” Sam asks as he lets Ghost lick his fingers. “I don’t have any snacks for you. It’s late.”
Reluctantly, Jon gives up on moving closer, instead burying his hand in Ghost’s fur. It’s soft, and if Jon focuses on petting him, maybe he can avoid embarrassing himself.
Sam’s started talking again, still summarizing his book. If only Jon could fully concentrate on what Sam’s saying—his head’s still whirring, his stomach still queasy. Jon tries to fake it, nodding whenever it seems appropriate and focusing on the wolf fur beneath his hand.
Suddenly, Jon’s not touching wolf fur. He stops short and looks down. His hand is on top of Sam’s. Panicking, he jerks it away.
Sam looks confused, and Jon instantly regrets it. Why did he do that? Sam probably hadn’t even noticed, and now he’d made things even more uncomfortable.
“Sorry!” Jon says too quickly. “I’m really sorry about that.”
The crease between Sam’s eyebrows deepens.
“And sorry for, er, moving away afterward,” Jon adds, in case that’s what Sam’s upset about. “We can pretend the whole thing didn’t happen if you’d like.”
Sam looks down at the floor. “Well, I wouldn’t like to pretend it never happened,” he says.
That definitely isn’t the answer Jon had expected. “Huh?”
“I wouldn’t like. To pretend it didn’t happen,” Sam repeats, a bit louder. “I liked it...holding your hand for a bit. It was nice. But I mean, we still can forget about it. If you want to.”
Jon bites his bottom lip as he tries to think of a response. Thousands of possible ones fly through his head, from I don’t want to forget about it either to you’re my best friend and I don’t want to ruin anything to I’ve wanted to hold your hand and move closer all night but my direwolf kept getting in the way.
What Jon eventually says is, “Really?”
Sam nods, and then slowly reaches out his hand.
It’s hard for Jon to get himself to move at first, but somehow he ends up reaching out to Sam, who closes the gap between their hands. Sam’s hand is warm in his. He squeezes Jon’s hand slightly. When Jon glances over at Sam, he’s smiling, and Jon smiles back.
“You were right,” Jon tells Sam. “This is nice.”
Sam's cheeks are flushed a little. “It is.”
Jon wants to kiss Sam. He’s wanted to kiss him for a while now. But it had never seemed possible; he had trouble imagining Sam ever wanting to kiss him. Now, as they’re sitting together, Sam’s warm hand in his, Sam so close, he realizes he could’ve been wrong this whole time.
“Can I…” Jon’s voice is hoarse. He clears his throat, smiling when Sam laughs a little. “Can I kiss you? Would that be okay?”
Sam’s mouth trembles a bit, but he holds Jon’s gaze. “Yes,” he says. “That would be…really nice.”
Slowly and tentatively, Jon leans toward Sam, letting go of Sam’s hand in order to orient himself. He pauses a few inches from Sam’s face, and then leans in and presses his lips to Sam’s.
Jon’s never kissed anyone before. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought much about kissing back at Winterfell. But kissing Sam is nice, like Sam said it would be. Sam’s right about everything, even kissing. Especially kissing. He likes the feeling of Sam’s lips against his, their noses slightly bumping into each other, their overall closeness and the sudden warmth of the room. He isn’t entirely sure if he’s doing it right, but Sam doesn’t seem to mind.
They kiss for a while—Jon’s not sure how long—but eventually they break apart. They move away slowly and settle back to their seats, looking at each other the whole time. The nervous fluttering in Jon’s stomach is back, but it’s not as bad this time.
“I’ve never done that before,” Sam says, brushing his hair from his face. “Kissed anyone, I mean.”
“Neither have I,” Jon says. “But I liked kissing you.”
Sam grins. “I liked kissing you, too.”
Once again, Jon isn’t sure what else to say— he doubts there are words to explain his feelings. It’s incredible and impossible to think that Sam feels the same way he does. He’d never dreamed that he’d ever end up kissing Sam. And he wants to do it again.
Just then, Ghost whines and rolls over, begging for attention. Jon frowns. He’d forgotten Ghost was in the room. Please, please don’t distract Sam, Jon thinks.
Before Ghost can get Jon’s silent message, Sam reaches out to pet Ghost with one hand. Then, just as Jon’s frown deepens, Sam takes Jon’s hand with his free one, squeezing it gently.
That’s a compromise Jon can live with. Once again unworried, Jon smiles at Sam. When Sam smiles back, Jon decides he can forgive Ghost after all.