Archive of Our Own

"Did I give you the tickets?"

"Yes."

"And my sunglasses?"

"Yes."

"And the passports?"

Brienne sighs. "No, Jaime, because we're only going to Lannisport. You don't tend to need passports for an internal flight."

Reaching into her handbag, she pulls out both his ludicrously expensive designer glasses and the ticket that he has awkwardly folded. In return, he gives her one of his obnoxious, glittering smiles, so beautiful that almost feels like a prize won. A frown, lined with faux disgust, seems the only adequate response.

Because she can't smile back.

She won't smile back.

If she smiles back, Jaime might see the rosy flush in her cheeks, catch the light in her eyes, or even sense the raw affection in her heart. And he can't notice that. She won't allow it. She'd rather die.

Brienne has been silently in love with Jaime Lannister for... oh... two or three years now, at least. They had gone to the same high school, but it wasn't some childish tale of first love. He had been the ethereally beautiful football star, she the dweeb two years his junior nobody looked at twice, and he'd never looked at her twice. They'd barely been living on the same planet. And even if he had looked her way, he had been too ludicrously beautiful for Brienne; gorgeous in a shiny, artificial way that only belonged to gods or Ken Dolls. He hadn't been Brienne's type. To top things off, at the time, she had been hopelessly in love with the hopelessly gay Renly Baratheon, and far too distracted by her own pathetic pining to notice the boy two years older that every girl in her year drooled over.

But even if she had looked... even if she had considered Jaime for a single moment... Brienne would have never fallen for him. Back then he had seemed shallow to her, smallminded and aggressive. And then there was his girlfriend. Jaime had been dating Cersei, the Queen Bee, equal parts pretty and nasty. Why would Brienne have ever wanted Jaime when he was in love with someone so vile? What would have been the purpose of summoning up some desire for a boy with a pretty face that she secretly suspected was a bit of a dickhead?

It was only when she got to know him, and the demonic divinity had been washed away so she could see his humanity underneath that Brienne had finally begun to fall in love.

"I can't believe you booked us economy seats," says Jaime, looking down at the crumpled ticket. "You could have at least gone economy plus. I let you use my credit card and everything! You could have used my air miles to get us complimentary champagne and private pods!"

"Sorry, I'm not quite so extravagant as you."

Jaime laughs, then elbows her in the ribs. "But we are going to visit Tyrion. He will take the piss out of you when he realises you've been wedged those long legs of yours into seat 37B for the whole flight, and that you haven't even checked any luggage in and have just brought a cabin bag."

"Well, I don't need to pack ten billion hair products like you do. I can travel light."

At that, Brienne smiles wistfully, because while Jaime has always cared about his appearance, once it had been annoying trait but now is endlessly adorable to her. After leaving university, Brienne had spent a couple of years in dead end job after dead end job, before finally getting a position at Catelyn Stark's non-profit, which was mainly concerned with dolling out vast amounts of money from the Stark Trust to worthwhile causes. Brienne had been employed as Catelyn's PA, while Jaime had been one of the few other employees who managed the website. On her first day at work, she had been shocked to see him – partly because they were both so far away from home, and partly because he still somehow looked like a lost catwalk model – and had done a pretty terrible job at hiding it.

"You!" Brienne had said, the minute she laid eyes on him.

Jaime had stared back at her with a firm gaze which she now recognises as defensive. "Yeah, me. Jaime Lannister. Who are you? Do I know you?"

Brienne had shuffled her feet. She was almost embarrassed to admit Jaime was firmly entrenched in the cast of characters of her life, while he seemingly had no idea who she was.

"My name's Brienne. Brienne Tarth."

Jaime had raised his eyebrows at her. "Is that meant to mean something to me?"

Brienne had not answered. She had refused to embarrass herself.

Right now, she is also trying not to embarrass herself. Jaime has perched his super expensive sunglasses on top of his head and is smiling at her in the kind of way that makes her feel all warm inside. She turns away, wanting to hide her blush, but then feels Jaime loop his arm through hers. That's the worst thing he could have done, because it makes Brienne shiver. Jaime rarely goes anywhere without his prosthetic hand, but he's made an exception today because he's spending most of the day on a plane with Brienne. His therapist had told him to start taking it off with people he trusts, so the fact he feels comfortable enough to lock his handless arm with Brienne's own... does things to her.

Yet it is not the undercurrent of lust that is hardest to deal with. Sometimes, it baffles her that the trust that has bloomed between them is so strong, particularly as they had hated each other at first. Although Brienne had loved working for Catelyn, there had been nothing she disliked more than seeing smug Jaime Lannister every morning, making his stupid jokes.

"Oh, look everyone! It's Brienne, Brienne Tarth! Apparently, we're all meant to know who she is as she's some kind of A-List star!"

"Everyone, make way for Brienne! They're going to roll out the red carpet for her any day now!"

"Oh my god, it's Brienne! BRIENNE! Please will you give me your autograph?"

As Catelyn's PA, Brienne found she often had to liaise with the wider team, and that had included Jaime. There was nothing she resented more. He was pretty, smug, and obnoxious, all the things that Brienne detested in one person. There had been nothing that Brienne hated more than walking into Jaime's office and finding him flirting with Pia the receptionist, who had an annoying habit of laughing at all of Jaime's jokes, even the terrible ones.

"Just ignore him," Margaery – the firm's accountant – had said to Brienne, when Jaime had first referred to her as a ten-time-never-won-anything-actress. "He's just trying to rile you up."

"But why?" Brienne had replied. "What have I ever done to him?"

Margaery had shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he just doesn't like your face."

Brienne had sometimes wondered if that was the case – lots of men thought they could be rude to her because she wasn't conventionally attractive – but other times... she hadn't been so sure. Once, Luwin had walked into her coming out of the photocopying room and Brienne had accidentally spilt her beetroot coffee over her new white shirt, making the thin material wet, pink, and see-through. Jaime had stared at her from the other side of the room, his mouth open like a goldfish.

"What are you looking at?" she had asked, irritated.

For once in his life, he had been lost for words.

Another time, when Brienne had needed to stay late to help organise a networking session with some potential clients, Jaime had loitered around much longer than his own role required, and then volunteered to walk with her to the bus station.

"Why are you following me?" she had asked, when he caught up with her just outside the office building.

"Can't I be chivalrous to the fair maiden with dazzling blue eyes? The princess who has a tendency to be attacked by beetroot coffee demons? The fair maiden who has a string of noteworthy performances in blockbuster films?"

Brienne had folded her arms across her chest, remembering the exact spot Jaime had been staring when she had spilled her drink. "I can look after myself thank you... they give you martial arts training behind the scenes on action movies."

Jaime had chuckled, low and lazily, before looking at her with a curious expression. "Are we going to keep this fake actress thing going forever, or are you actually ever going to tell me why you were so horrified to see me the day you started here? Where do you know me from?"

In an attempt not to answer the question, Brienne had suddenly veered off down an alley to her left. It was part of a longer route to the bus station, but she thought the uneven surfaces and general creepy atmosphere might have been enough to shake Jaime off her tail.

"It's not my fault you don't remember."

At that small step towards the truth, Jaime's eyes went wide. "Ah! Alright, you do know me. Now we've established that... where from?"

Brienne had just been about to come up with some witty comeback when some shadows moved up ahead of them. Before she even had time to think, the shadows had become men and they had advanced around them both, forming a circle through which neither Brienne nor Jaime could escape. While Brienne became momentarily paralysed by encroaching fear, Jaime grabbed the initiative, and decided to stand in front of Brienne as if she was somehow his to protect.

"Well, well, well," said one of the men dressed in black. "What do we have here? A knight and his lady... although I can't tell which one is which."

Given how opposed they were back then, it seems strange to Brienne now that that insult had hurt her so keenly. Now, she would be happy to be both knight and lady for Jaime, whichever way he wanted. Of course, that road from hate to indifference to sympathy to friendship to fondness to love had been a long one, but it had all started in that shadowed alleyway. It had then continued when Brienne had sat by Jaime's beside at the hospital that very same night he had taken a beating to defend her honour. The night he had become her knight.

To this day, she still doesn't understand why he did it.

"You, travel light?" Jaime squawks good humouredly as they move closer to the gate. "Never! I bet you've got four-hundred packets of mints in your hand luggage for the flight, just as you had chocolate and flowers and sweets for me every day I was in hospital."

Brienne raises her eyebrows. "That was an entirely different situation."

"Was it?"

Of course it was. After Jaime had let those men in the alleyway beat him black-and-blue in order to attract attention from her, Brienne had gone to the hospital every day to see him. How could she not? She'd been rude to him from the off – and he right back – but he had somehow found it in himself to put his body in front of hers, to defend her even when he had no reason to do it.

And he had lost his hand for it.

"Jaime, I brought you some chocolate," Brienne had said the first time she had come to visit him in hospital. His beautiful face had been purpled with bruises, his ribs broken, and an infection was starting to take root in his badly damaged right hand. She had sat down in the chair beside his bed intending only to say thanks, but instead she had stayed for one hour, then two, with something she could not name rooting herself next to Jaime's bed.

"Yes," Brienne says. "Entirely different. You were basically on death's door, and I felt guilty that you had gone through so much pain because of me, so I kept bringing you food and gifts because I wanted you to get better."

Jaime smiles at her in such a way that Brienne can only grin back, forgetting her earlier vow not to be too obvious. "Awww, you're so sweet," he says, leaning forward and kissing her cheek. "But is that all? Is that the only reason you came and visited me?"

Brienne's not sure. Looking back, she cannot recognise the exact moment she started loving Jaime. In the early days, it had been so easy to care for him, though. Even though he was rightly grumpy and bitter about losing his hand, Jaime had somehow took on the aura of an injured bird, and Brienne could not help but want to protect him.

"Jaime, stop squawking! I'm not bothered!"

"But I am!" he'd growled. "The nurses are meant to come and give me a sponge bath! Not my colleague!"

"I know, but they're understaffed because it's nearly Sevenmas, and they won't be able to do it for a couple of hours. I'm here now, and I'm happy to help!"

After he was discharged from hospital, Brienne had insisted that he come and stay with her for a few weeks. He was still learning to live without his hand, and he would need some assistance in the first days. It wasn't as if his family would help; as she had learned during one late night conversation at the hospital, he was estranged from his rich, authoritarian father, while his younger brother lived miles away in Lannisport. Given the size of her heart, Brienne wouldn't have been able to leave him all alone to fend for himself after his operation, so offering him a place to crash had been only natural.

"Have you got a bed for me?" he had snapped grumpily, as they arrived in Brienne's flat for the first time. "And what about a litter tray?"

Ignoring his poor joke, Brienne had marched on. "Yes. You can sleep in my housemate Asha's room – she often works away and won't be returning for another month. By the time she's back, hopefully you will be feeling a little better and be up for returning home."

Of course, that hadn't happened. Jaime had needed all the help he could get, so Brienne supported him through physio appointments and therapy sessions and been there for him when he just needed someone to talk to. Asha's "one month away" had turned into two, then, three, then six, and Jaime had stayed in her bed, surrounded by Asha's death metal posters. Sometimes, Brienne had wondered why he hadn't gone back to his swish apartment that daddy had bought for him many moons ago, but sometimes the answer seemed obvious. Every night they had cooked for each other, and every day gone to-and-from work together, and she even helped him apply cream to his stump when it got sore.

"We went to school together," Brienne had blurted out one day, while she was assisting Jaime in putting on a new prosthetic. "That's where I know you from. When I first saw you in Catelyn's office in King's Landing, I was surprised, that's all. You always struck me as the kind of guy who would have stayed back in Casterly for the 2.5 kids and white picket fence with Cersei."

An unnatural smile crossed Jaime's face, more grimace than grin. "I thought I knew what love was back then. I thought I loved Cersei and Cersei loved me... but she actually was more interested in banging Aurane and Osney and Robert and whoever else. I know better now."

That statement had been followed by such a warm, affection from Jaime, that when Asha phoned the next day to announce that she was giving up the flat and moving to Winterfell, Brienne had jumped at the chance to make things with Jaime permanent. After all, she was so in love with him she wouldn't have wanted anything else.

"I came to visit you in hospital because I have a sense of duty," Brienne starts to explain, desperately trying to skirt round the truth of her love for him that sits awkwardly between them. "You were not well. You–"

"Tickets please."

At that moment, Jaime and Brienne reach the front of the queue for boarding. Jaime automatically turns to Brienne, clearly expecting something, so she gives him a teasing look. "I gave you your ticket a little while ago."

"I know," he smiles. "But I like it when you manage my life... it seems... right."

Because she is a good friend, Brienne helps Jaime get strapped into his seat, and puts both his and her bags in the overhead locker. Perhaps as a form of thanks, once she is sat next to him, he immediately locks his hand with hers, and starts to babble on about their plans once they reach Lannisport.

"You know Tyrion and Tysha are meeting us at the airport?" says Jaime, his shoulder brushing against Brienne's because of the close-proximity economy seats. "The stags and the hens aren't getting separated until tomorrow, so we're all going out for dinner tonight. No doubt Tyrion has picked some bougie restaurant where the bill will cost thousands."

Sensing the sudden panic in her eyes, Jaime leans over and kisses her cheek (the second time in a short space of time on a chilly Friday morning) in an effort to soothe her. "Don't worry, B. Tyrion will pay for it... and if not, I'll pay for you. You are my plus one, after all."

Again, she's not quite sure how that happened. Tyrion and Tysha's wedding is the biggest event to happen in Jaime's family in years, and yet he's decided to bring Brienne rather than the woman he is actually dating at the moment. After their weird moment that night in the office ago, the usual equilibrium in Jaime and Brienne's relationship had been shattered completely, and Jaime had decided the best medicine was to bring an unrelated third party into the equation to make things even messier.

Two months ago, they had stayed late at the office because Jaime had to do a big overhaul of the website to a tight deadline. The only light had been from the moon outside and the soft glow of Jaime's computer. Brienne had promised to stay with him until the website was up and running, but that had become a bigger promise than she was initially expecting. Due to a minor power outage, the minutes had turned into hours, and so they had ordered a takeaway as night descended. Even once they finished eating, Jaime was still hours away from reaching the end of the project, so Brienne's attention had started to wane... her eyelids fluttering closed...

"You look sleepy," Jaime had said, turning to her with an affectionate smile. "Why don't you lay down on the sofa? You can use my coat to keep warm. I'll wake you up when it's time to go home."

It had seemed like a sensible idea, so Brienne had done what Jaime suggested, and curled up on the sofa. As she had drifted off to sleep, she had been comforted by the sight of his beautiful face in the light of the computer, shining and perfect and him. Oh, it was so easy to be in love with Jaime, especially as in her dreams he would come and kiss her cheeks, and hold her in his arms as if she was the most precious thing in the entire universe...

"Brienne? Sweetling? Are you awake?"

Brienne had opened her eyes, only to find Jaime's face inches from her own, his one hand carding through her hair.

"Thank you for staying with me," Jaime had whispered, his voice lanced of the wry coolness it usually possessed.

Brienne had swallowed. His lips were so perilously close to her own that it almost felt like a dare. "It's no big deal," she said, trying not to focus on his perfect rosebud mouth. "I had your coat to sleep under."

"It is a big deal," Jaime echoed, his voice like honey. "Nobody has ever cared for me how you do, Brienne. Nobody."

When Brienne said nothing in response, Jaime moved his one remaining hand to her face and gently brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. His breath was so warm and his cheeks such a pretty pink that Brienne barely noticed the following heavy pause. In it, he seemed to study every inch of her face, taking in every micro-expression and exaggerated blush. After surveying her and finding what he needed, Jaime had closed his eyes – his eyelashes fluttering against his cheek – then moved closer to her, tilting his head as he did so. For a moment, it was as if Jaime was going to kiss her, but then panic seized Brienne's soul and she pulled herself away.

"Seven Hells, look at the time! It will be hard to get a taxi this time of night," she had managed to say, before scrambling to her feet and gathering her things.

"Brienne, wait–"

"I'm going to go and get my bag, so why don't you call a taxi, okay?" Brienne had babbled once she reached the door. She tried to ignore the shell-shocked expression on his face. "I'll be two minutes."

She had dashed out into the corridor, moving so quickly that door made a resonant bang behind her. Tears had filled her eyes. Jaime was so precious to her that she wouldn't have everything they were to each other ruined because she got too near, because she had flown to close to the sun. It also wasn't fair to pounce on him just at the moment he was starting to feel better about his hand. Surely when he was healed he would move out, and choose someone else... someone better...

"I'm going on a date with Pia," Jaime had announced over dinner, just three days after the Moment in the office. "I'm taking her to a restaurant up West on Monday. Margaery told me she was interested, and I thought I'd just give it a go."

Brienne had suddenly been possessed by the thought of kicking Margaery very hard in the shins for such a stupid suggestion, but had to bat that feeling down in the face of keeping her expression neutral. "Oh, that sounds fun," she had said, somewhat emotionlessly. "I always thought Pia liked you too... and it seems like a good fit."

"Really?"

Brienne looked down at her spaghetti. "Really."

It is so easy to forget that Jaime had been so horrified at the thought of Brienne getting the wrong idea because of an ill-advised almost kiss that he had immediately started dating Pia when they are side by side on a plane. Their fingers are entwined, and if someone were to look at them from across the aisle, they might think they are a couple. Brienne feels equal parts pleased and guilty.

"To be honest, I'm a bit annoyed Tyrion and Tysha are having their stag and hen parties two days before the wedding," says Jaime. "I know Tyrion will ply me with alcohol, so I'll probably be out of it the day before, so I don't think we'll have much time to spend together, B."

"We live and work together, Jaime. We spend all our time together. What's a few days apart?"

Jaime opens his mouth in faux shock. "How dare you, Brienne? How dare you pretend I'm not the most important person in your life?"

"Well, I'm not the most important person in your life, so why would you be mine?" she says, riposte.

Jaime frowns, his teasing tone dissolving. "Where did you get the idea that you're not the most important person in my life?"

Before she can answer the question, a smiling air hostess gets into position a couple of rows in front of them, carrying a life jacket complete with a whistle to attract attention. Brienne turns to look at her to watch the demonstration – it is only polite – only to find that Jaime is still elbowing her ribs, trying to catch her attention.

"Brienne! Answer my question!" he hisses. "Where did you get the idea that you're not the most important person in my life?"

"Jaime, shut up and listen to the safety talk!"

"Why? There's no point. The brace position won't actually save your life, it will only ensure you have a quick death when your spine exits your body through your brain instead of your liver."

Brienne pulls her attention away from the smiley air hostess to look at Jaime. "Well, wouldn't you rather have a quick, clean death if this plane were to go down? Wouldn't you rather it all be over in a heartbeat?"

"Not if I can have a few more seconds with you."

A blush comes to Brienne's cheeks, but she tries to push it down by turning back towards the flight attendant who is in the middle of demonstrating how to fasten your seatbelt. Jaime is still looking at Brienne intently with those luminescent green eyes of his, squeezing her hand as if he's scared that she'll let go. It's hard, but Brienne just about manages to focus on the safety talk.

"We remind you that this is a non-smoking flight. Smoking is prohibited on the entire aircraft, including the lavatories. Tampering with, disabling or destroying the lavatory smoke detectors is prohibited–"

"Brienne?"

Despite his insistent gaze, Brienne refuses to give him an inch.

Once the plane is up in the air, Brienne puts in her earphones in order to listen to a couple of podcasts about the Braavosi surrealist art movement that she had already downloaded. Jaime watchs the first ten minutes of Mean Maidens, before turning it off and resting his head on Brienne's shoulder. He falls asleep in about five minutes. It takes everything she has for Brienne not to lean across and kiss his forehead or wrap her arms around him. Even the smallest gestures from Jaime conjure an ocean of emotion in Brienne.

They stay that way, bundled up together, until there is a sudden judder from beneath their feet, which causes Brienne's earphone to fall out of her ear. As the woman across the aisle from them lets out a loud but nervous laugh, Jaime sits up, looking as if he had been enjoying a nice doze.

"What was that?" he mumbles, rubbing his eyes with his stump at the same time as taking Brienne's hand in his.

Brienne swallows heavily. "I don't know. I'm sure it's nothing."

Even as the words come out of her mouth, Brienne suspects she doesn't know what she is talking about, as the flight attendants have stopped selling ludicrously expensive falafel wraps and are instead moving up and down the aisle, exchanging pointed glances.

"It didn't sound like nothing," says Jaime.

"Oh? And who made you an expert on planes?"

"Don't you remember bingeing that series on air disasters last year?" Jaime retorts. "The problems come when the black box goes missing because it starts to look like–"

BANG.

The whole plane shakes again, and this time it sends bags tumbling from the overhead lockers and from on top of the pull-down tables. Unthinkingly, Jaime lifts his right arm across Brienne's head to protect her from any falling debris, but luckily nothing falls in her direction.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" comes the captain's voice over the tannoy. "Could you please put your seatbelts back on."

Before Brienne obeys the order, she leans over and helps Jaime. That earns her a somewhat nervous smile. "Didn't you listen to the safety demonstration?" he says. "You're meant to put your own mask on before helping others."

"Well, I–"

BANG. BANG.

This time, the screaming starts. The whole plane starts to shake, as if it is flying through the worst turbulence. As the plane begins to shake more violently, a woman who is sitting near the emergency exit a few rows in front starts crying, her voice getting higher and higher with every word.

"The engine... it's on fire!"

As that piece of news becomes known around the plane, many people began to pull down the shutters on the windows, revealing the truth of what the woman had said. There is smoke coming from the left engine – thick and black – and if she were to lean across Jaime and really squint, Brienne might even see something she could imagine to be flames.

"Brienne," says Jaime, his voice coming from very far away. "I've got something to say. I–"

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The cabin crew are clearly panicked. One of them is knocking on the cockpit door, another checking passengers are strapped in, and another has picked up the microphone to the tannoy and is issuing firm instructions, even though nobody is listening to her because widespread hysteria has broken out.

"Passengers, in the event of an emergency landing, you will need to be in the brace position. To brace, place your feet flat on the floor, cross your wrists, and hold onto the seat in front of you–"

While what she is saying is important, Brienne can hardly hear her. Everything is going in slow motion. There are people around her screaming and crying, their faces contorted in terror. Some are praying. Some are on their phones, calling their loved ones. Brienne briefly thinks about calling her dad, but then she remembers she put her phone in the overhead locker and has no way to reach it.

I'm never going to see dad again, she thinks.

These are her last moments of life. According to the terrified sounding flight attendant, Brienne should be busy getting into the brace position (if only so that her spine will exit through her brain causing a quick, clean death), but everyone around her is too busy screaming for her to concentrate. Besides, there seem to be better things to do than embrace the inevitable, especially as Jaime is gripping hold of her hand so tightly that she is sure he has cut her circulation.

Jaime...

She looks at him, and suddenly there is light in the world again.

Although there is no feeling in her fingers, the idea that she is here, right now, with Jaime blocks everything else out. Alright, she is going to die, but the years of low-key fear and pressure she has put on herself regarding him, their relationship, and the whole world that hangs in orbit around them finally seems to dissipate. All she can feel is the warmth of his hand, and it suddenly puts everything into perspective. What is there in this moment outside her love for Jaime? And why should she care about anything else?

"Jaime?" she says, finally finding her voice.

He turns to look at her, and his beauty almost makes her die on the spot.

"Yes, Brienne?"

"I love you."

Despite the situation, Jaime somehow finds it in him to smile at her, and it makes all the fear and terror inside of Brienne go into the night.

"I love you too, B."

They've said this to each other a million times; how they love each other as friends, how they are the ideal of platonic love, how they are soulmates and love each other even though they are just best friends. Once, Brienne might have been able to believe that was enough, but here and now on the edge of the abyss, she cannot pretend anymore.

"No, Jaime. Not like that." His face flickers in disappointment, but Brienne pushes ahead anyway. "I love you... not as friends... as in... I'm in love with you... and if this is the last chance to say it... I'm going to say it. I love you... and you always have, and always will be, the only one for me."

Everyone around them is screaming, but Brienne barely hears it, because Jaime's eyes have somehow got impossibly wider and she can't look anywhere else. She finally gets the feeling back in her fingers when he removes his hand from hers – which disappoints her for a fleeting second – but then he brings that very same hand to her cheek, rubbing the pad of his thumb just under her eye.

"Oh, Brienne..."

He clearly has no more words, for the next second his mouth is on hers and he is kissing her as if she really is an actress in a blockbuster movie, and he her leading man. Even though they are on the brink of death, it seems the most natural thing in the world to bring her hands to his hair and thread her fingers through his perfect curls, while he teases her mouth open through their kiss. She hums in contentment when their tongues finally touch, a shiver cascading through her body when Jaime responds with an aroused growl. Kissing him is as natural as breathing, and Brienne is certain that while these may be the last moments of her life, they are the best few seconds she has ever lived.

Then there is a creak.

The plane stops shaking.

Brienne does not notice at first, because she is too busy being transported to paradise by the feeling of Jaime's tongue in her mouth, his breath on her skin, and his one hand firmly squeezing her breast through her shirt, but slowly the lights start to flicker back on and the people around them stop screaming. Jaime's mouth stays on hers, but does not move, right until the moment the air stewardess gets to her feet at the end of the aisle. Then, he sharply pulls away when a slightly shaky voice echoes over the tannoy.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. While the left engine has been compromised, we have managed to stabilise the right, but we will be making an emergency stop at Tumbleton airport. Thank you so much for your patience."

Brienne tries to steady herself, tries to feel normal, tries to breathe, but the fact she has just lived through both a near-death experience and playing tonsil tennis with Jaime Lannister means she's not up to much at the current moment. All she can do is stare at Jaime, whose big green eyes now almost seem the size of two planets, and hope that he has the wherewithal to break this awkward silence.

"I need to go to the toilet," says Jaime suddenly, getting to his feet. "I'll be back in a minute."

Without saying another word, he runs away from Brienne as fast as he can, disappearing down the row before she can come up with any good reason to get him to stay.

Even though Jaime is quickly ushered back into his seat, Jaime and Brienne do not talk for the rest of the flight, and Brienne tries her best not to cry.

How could the universe be so cruel? She had been perfectly content to keep her love for Jaime secret, because it was safer that way. There was no danger of spoiling their friendship – the relationship that brought so much joy into her life – and it meant Brienne could hold onto a tiny part of him, even if it was Pia who got to kiss him and love him and know what it was like to have him inside her.

Thankfully, the flight to Tumbleton is short, and it turns out the brace position is not just to ensure a quick death but a comfortable landing. As the passengers are escorted off the plane, Jaime distances himself from her in the crowd, so much so that she loses him in the hubbub, and they only reunite when they meet up at baggage collection.

"Why don't you wait for the bags?" he says, not quite meeting her eye. "I'll go get the tokens for the hotel, find us a taxi, and ring Tyrion to tell him what has happened."

Brienne nods, almost too dumbfounded to speak. "Okay. Your suitcase was the red one with the little lion ribbon, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

He turns away from her in the manner a casual acquaintance might, or even a total stranger. There is no love, no warmth, and it makes Brienne want to cry harder than any near-death experience. She knows she ought to call her dad to tell him what happened, but she's worried that if she does, she won't inform him about her terrifying plane journey but instead burst into tears about her broken friendship with Jaime.

I'm so stupid, she thinks as she watches for Jaime's case on the luggage carousel. So stupid. He's never wanted me. It's only because our plane had just done a nosedive that he even entertained the idea.

Once she has collected the bags, Brienne goes to find Jaime. As good as his word, he is out by the taxi rank, and has negotiated a fair price with the driver to get them to the hotel they've been assigned by the very apologetic travel company. Jaime does not quite meet her eye when she approaches, and Brienne wonders if it's because he feels guilty. He's only been with Pia for a few months, and they are meant to be going to Braavos together in the new year. Is he just trying to think of a way to explain his ill-advised kiss with Brienne to the girlfriend he really loves?

"Come on, the hotel is only ten minutes away. Apparently, they are going to try and put us on a replacement flight in the morning, so it's probably best we get there as soon as possible and get some rest."

Brienne nods, not able to find the words, then gets into the taxi as the driver puts their suitcases in the boot. Although Jaime comes to sit next to her in the back, the moment the car sets off on its journey he turns his attention to the non-descript scenery of Tumbleton instead of talking to her. Trying to swallow back tears, Brienne puts her earphones back in and forces herself to concentrate on the Braavosi surrealist movement once again, even though in this moment she's never cared about anything less in all her life.

When they arrive at the hotel, Jaime makes sure to walk three steps ahead of her to get them checked in quickly (and perhaps also to avoid talking about their unfortunate kiss on the plane). Once they are allocated their key, they go up to their pokey little room, and Brienne's stomach drops the second she sees its a double.

"I'm going to go for a walk," says Jaime, after dumping his bag next to the bed. There is not much room – especially as there is a sofa which takes up considerable floorspace – but he doesn't seem to care that he's put his bag in an awkward place due to his desire to be free of her. "I need some fresh air."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

Jaime shakes his head so violently that Brienne almost brushes in embarrassment. "No, I need some time alone. We'll talk when I get back, okay?"

"Okay."

He goes without saying a proper goodbye. Almost every day since they had moved in together, Jaime has not departed the flat before giving Brienne a hug or a kiss on the cheek. That he can't look at her makes her feel so sick that once he's gone, she bursts into tears. They are the kind of tears she would never let another person see.

It's over, she thinks. Whatever friendship we once had, whatever we once were to each other... it's over. I destroyed it, all because I couldn't keep my feelings secret. 

Feeling numb and wrung through, Brienne undoes her suitcase and pulls out her pyjamas, before heading into the tiny bathroom to have a shower. If Jaime is going to peel their kiss off his skin, so is she. Using the cheap hotel body wash, she creates a lather in her hands once she is in the shower and begins to scrub at the freckles on her arm, desperate to be free of the feel of him.

I was never going to have him, she tells herself. Never. It was only because he thought he was about to die and he wanted a bit of human warmth that he even kissed me. It had nothing to do with his feelings, only mine... Gods, I'm so selfish.

Despite her breaking heart, the warm water and the rhythmic scrubbing help to calm her down, mostly because it feels as if her body is her own again after all the dread, adrenaline, fear, and unfathomable joy of the past few hours. Once she is out of the shower and has dried herself off, she puts her pyjamas on and makes to return to the bedroom. Hells, if she can't be with Jaime, the least she can do is order some room-service and watch a crappy rom-com!

Unfortunately for Brienne, her plan is quickly scuppered when she realises Jaime is waiting for her in the bedroom. He has taken off his shoes and unbuttoned his top button, and generally looks a lot more relaxed than he had when exiting the hotel room under a heavy rain cloud. To Brienne's surprise, he then smiles at her in the warm, affectionate way he has often used before their kiss. However, his grin faulters when he meets her eye, possibly because of her startled expression

"Brienne, what's the matter?"

His tender tone takes her aback.

"Nothing," she replies shortly. "I've just been thinking that maybe we can ask for more pillows and blankets at the front desk and use the sofa as a second bed."

Jaime looks at her confusedly, as if that is the last thing he expected her to say.

"Or we could just share the double?"

She blinks. "Okay... if you really want to... but I thought... I thought..."

"What?"

Brienne takes a steadying breath and resolves to change the topic entirely. Jaime is clearly in a strange mood, and maybe she can persuade him of the merit of the sofa plan later.

"Where did you go, Jaime?"

It is now his turn to blink. "I went and did it."

"Did what?"

"Broke up with Pia."

Brienne narrows her eyes at Jaime, surprised by this revelation. "How? She's not here, is she?"

"No," says Jaime slowly, as if he's in the middle of putting together a puzzle for which he doesn't have all the pieces. "We had a long and serious video call where I explained my feelings and let her down gently."

"But I thought you were going to Braavos with her in the new year. Margaery told me–"

"We were, but we're not anymore," says Jaime, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I was lying to myself that I could be happy with her... but now I know that... that..."

For the first time since Brienne reunited with Jaime at Catelyn's foundation, he looks somewhat unsettled.

"Know what?"

"That you feel the same way." He steps forward, grabbing Brienne's hand with his own. There's no polish or finesse to his declaration, just a desperation to be heard and held. "I've loved you for years, Brienne. Years and years. From the moment you walked into the office and started a turf war with me over absolutely nothing, I've been entranced. And that spilt coffee... gods, I thought about your tits for weeks. I just pretended I didn't love you and want you and need you because I would have rather had you in my life as a friend than lose you entirely, but after that kiss... I can't pretend anymore. I want you... and I want more kisses."

Given that her legs now feel a little weak, it takes a few moments for Brienne to acclimatize to the new reality she finds herself in. Did Jaime really just say that he wants more kisses from her? Because he loves her?

When the words abandon Brienne, Jaime steps forward and takes the kiss he wants, his hand coming to her face so he can caress her jaw just at the moment his lips toucb hers. Brienne freezes. Through her tears in the shower, she had imagined every eventuality other than this. Although her heart wants to lean into it and seize the opportunity, her brain makes the final decisions, so instead she pulls away.

"But ever since we kissed on the plane, you've barely spoken to me!"

As he is still holding her face, Brienne is close enough to see the genuine disappointment that flashes across his countenance because their kiss has ended, and it makes her realise that this whole day hasn't been some weird dream, but real. Jaime is here, in her arms, and all she needs to do is reach out and he will be hers.

"I felt guilty about kissing you when I was with someone else," Jaime admits. "I've been dating Pia in attempt to get over you after you blew me off that night in the office–"

"I didn't blow you off..."

Jaime laughs, warm and forgiving. "Well, it felt like it. We were having a moment and then you decided to run away."

"I was scared." She only realises this is the truth once the words are out of her mouth. "You are my best friend, Jaime. Even though I love you, I didn't want to lose that... you are the most special person in my life."

He kisses her cheek, just as he has a million times before when they were just friends. "You won't lose me as your best friend, Brienne. It took an almost near-death experience on a plane for me to even risk that most coveted status, so even when I'm your boyfriend, I will always be your best friend... for as long as you want. It's an honour."

Those words soften her enough that Jaime can lean in and kiss her, this time starting with a consoling peck on her lips.

"Now, why don't you let me help you calm down?" he purrs, drawing patterns on her hip in a successful attempt to be seductive. "We've had a tough day, and I'm only too happy to kiss you anywhere you want to make up for it."

Marshalling her courage at the recognition of what that means, Brienne raises an eyebrow at Jaime in an attempt to join in with his flirty games.

"Anywhere?"

"Anywhere."

And with that, Brienne agrees they should share the double bed.