Chapter Text
“Well this is certainly a change.”
Sansa looked up from Jon’s phone, picking at the rubber on the aux cord that was attached to an outdated speaker set on the spare bench.
“It’s not like I’ve got anything else to do,” she said, the boredom clearly showing in her voice.
She’d switched the usual relaxed jazz music playing in the coffee shop to some vintage indie tunes. What she’d said was true though. Sansa, Jon, Theon and Sam had milled around that day as the rain had poured and poured outside. They’d only had two customers that day, and Sam had cleaned everything twice. Jon was sipping his third cup of coffee, even though he didn’t need it. Theon was out the back, eating half-stale lemon cakes from the fridge. It was only 2 in the afternoon, but everyone was already starting to get twitchy.
“Aw come on Sansa, people already think I’m enough of a hipster,” Jon groaned halfheartedly as the Smiths began to play. Sansa laughed at that.
“To be fair Jon, you do have a man-bun.”
He sighed and pulled out the hair-tie, his inky-black mop of curls falling to frame his face. As Jon nibbled at the edge of his paper coffee cup, Sansa turned around so he couldn’t see her smile. She loved Jon’s messy hair, but she didn’t dare admit it. As she was thinking about how much she’d rather like to run her fingers through it, Jon wondered about how he could distance himself from the label of ‘hipster’. Looking around Stark Family Coffee Co., he realised that this might be a harder task than he’d originally anticipated. He decided not to let it bother him as he knocked back the dregs of his coffee, and looked at Sansa.
She had moved her chair to the window, and she sat with her chin on top of crossed arms as she stared blankly at the rain; fiery red hair spilling over her shoulders. It was Jon’s turn to smile now, and he thought about how lovely it was to have her visit for a few months. She was off studying at college, following her dreams of becoming an artist. Jon was very proud of her, but he hadn’t anticipated how much he’d actually missed her until she was back again, bringing with her the light and warmth of summertime, smiling and dancing and laughing and hugging him tightly; saying how she’d missed him so.
Jon’s musings were interrupted by raised voices coming from the back room.
“Theon,” came Sam’s stern voice, “now I’m certain you’re just eating for the sake of it.”
“What? Me? Nahhh,” Theon mumbled rather unconvincingly as he polished off another lemon cake.
“Yeah yeah.” Sam rolled his eyes. “What do you think Jon?”
“Huh?” Jon replied, looking into the back room to find Theon sitting cross-legged on the food prep bench, Sam with his arms crossed over his chest.
“What do I think about what?”
“Theon Kill-joy over here eating all the lemon cakes.”
“WHAT?!?” Sansa yelped as she abandoned her position at the window and dashed to the back room, plucking the container out of Theon’s hands. Jon and Sam laughed as she took the sweet treats back to the window. Theon pouted.
Lemon cakes were Sansa’s favourite, a treat she had always cooked with her mother growing up. Robb would sometimes bake them for her birthday, but not before he’d eaten a few. Lemon cakes meant family, and Sansa thought about how much she missed them as she idly traced her finger on the top of the container. She wouldn’t see them for another two weeks. Her parents were on a business trip with Rickon in tow, Bran and Arya were still at school, and Robb was off being a fancy lawyer and looking after his wife and baby son. And Jon. Jon Snow was not her brother, but had come to the Stark family under dubious circumstances. Ned and Cat didn’t like to talk about it much, but from what Sansa had gathered, his mother had died and his father had disappeared soon after that. It was enough to pacify everyone, but Robb, Sansa, and especially Jon knew that it was a lot more complicated than that. But Ned was saddened and Cat grew angry when any of them pressed for details. So they’d learned to just leave it. Still, Jon lay awake some nights, wondering about who he really was and where he'd come from.
Ghost, Jon’s fiercely loyal white husky, padded out from his napping spot under the back table and settled down again around Sansa’s feet, tongue hanging out of his mouth contentedly. She leaned down and scratched his head as her own spun with longing and homesickness and something else she couldn’t put her finger on. Something that had crept in when she’d seen Jon again for the first time in months. Something that made her stare the other morning at Jon’s muscled torso peeking out from under his t-shirt as he’d reached up for new coffee beans off the shelf. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. This wasn’t what she needed right now. Just enjoy being here with your friends, she scolded herself internally. Sansa turned from the rainy window to see what they were up to. Jon was staring at the coffee machine, contemplating whether or not to make himself another cup. Sam and Theon had forgotten their spat over the lemon cakes it seemed, and had instead found some old newspapers used for cleaning the windows. Sam was reading his with a blank expression, and Theon was busy gifting everyone in his with black biro facial hair.
Just as Jon reached up to turn the machine back on, Sansa shot him a look. That's not a very good idea, it said. Jon sighed and then dragged a chair over to the window to sit by Sansa.
“Thanks,” he said , his breath fogging up the corner of the glass pane.
“What for?”
“For stopping me from doing a Theon and just eating for the sake of it,” Jon grinned.
“Hey!” yelled Theon, “I heard that!”
Sansa just laughed and looked out the window again as she remembered the last time Jon had had too much caffeine, and had serenaded her with Robb’s old ukulele. Sansa had done her best not to cringe, and later a sobered Jon had requested that she never tell a soul.
“Are you actually going to eat those?” Jon asked, snapping Sansa back to reality as she picked at the container.
“Nah,” she said, “they’re a bit too stale.”
“Not too stale for Theon, apparently.”
“Jon, this is Theon we’re talking about here. He’ll eat anything.”
“True.”
Jon paused thoughtfully for a moment.
“You miss everyone, don’t you Sans?”
Sansa sighed and rested her chin on the box.
“Yeah I do. It’s been six months already.” She looked at Jon.
“I am happy to see you Jon. I really am.” Jon smiled. “But I miss Robb and Arya and Mum and Dad and Rickon and Bran. I just want to go home.”
“I understand,” he replied, “you’ve been away for a long time.”
“Don’t think I didn’t miss you too Jon,” Sansa said. Her voice was a low quiver, her eyes wide and serious. “I'm not even sure I can tell you how much I missed you.”
“I know.” Jon found himself holding his breath a little as he tucked a stray piece of red, wavy hair over her shoulder. Jon saw the corners of her mouth curve into a wistful smile.
“We’ll bake some fresh lemon cakes together tomorrow, hey.”
Sansa nodded, and Ghost barked an agreement.
“Sounds good to me.”
Jon checked the time. It was 3:30. It was still pouring outside, still cold and the shop was still customer-less. He sighed and turned the sign on the door to ‘closed’.
“Alright fellas,” he said, calling out to Sam and Theon. “Early run today.”
That was all the encouragement they needed, both dashing out to grab their belongings and umbrellas. They thanked Jon as they headed out to their cars in the downpour.
Jon gave the shop a once-over before he shrugged and looked to Sansa and Ghost.
“Hometime?” he asked.
“Yes please,” Sansa replied, smiling and gathering her things, tucking the container of lemon cakes under her arm.