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Honestly, bartending is probably Jon’s least favorite of his two part-time jobs.
The main issue he has is that it requires a lot of talking. And look, he's been in the service industry since high school, he’s got his polite service voice down, he can maintain a friendly conversation or indulge drunken rantings, but it takes so much energy out of him. It leaves him mentally exhausted more often than not. But the hours work with his schedule, and the tips are decent even though he doesn’t cover peak days, so he keeps doing it.
He's just finished serving a patron when a group of guys walk toward his section of the bar.
Frat guys, if he had to guess based on the way they're dressed. Not the bar’s usual crowd, so they easily stand out.
Jon walks over to them, and he catches one of them saying, “Oh shit, look, there's Tyrell and her friends.”
Their whole group turns to the direction the speaker points to. Jon doesn't bother following their line of sight; he already knows which group of girls they're ogling.
“I guess Dane was right when he said this was their regular bar,” another guy says.
“Fuck me, there’s Sansa,” another of them says. This finally catches Jon's attention, making him turn to the blond guy that says it. “She’s so freaking hot, dude. Look at those legs, I’d kill to have them wrapped around me. It’s such a bummer she’s a prude.”
A couple of them laughs, then one says, “Just because she doesn’t want to fuck you, doesn’t means she's a prude.”
The blond guy scoffs. “Whatever. She can play hard to get all she wants, but I’ll break down her walls one of these days. Just gotta pull out all the stops.” He then turns toward Jon, raising a hand to call for him. “Yo, barkeep.”
Jon walks up to him with a polite expression, even though everything he just heard makes him want to cut the guy's tongue off. “What can I get you?”
“See that redhead over there?” The guy points to Sansa, who is currently drunkenly dancing with Margaery and Beth by the juke box.
Jon nods. “Yeah, I see her.”
“Can you make her a, uh -” The guy squints at the cocktail list. “A cosmo. Girls love those, don’t they?”
“You should get her lemon drop,” Jon suggests. The last thing he wants is to be helpful to the guy, but he doesn’t mind if Sansa’s getting a free drink out of it “It’s what she usually gets.”
The guy grins. “Alright, I’ll go with that.” He orders beer for himself and gives his payment, leaving Jon three measly dragons as a tip. “Tell her it’s from me. Point me out, I’ll just be here by the bar.”
Jon makes the drink the way he knows Sansa likes and signals for Satin. “Get this to Sansa. Tell her it’s from that guy,”
Satin’s eyebrows arch up curiously, but he doesn't comment before taking the drink onto his serving tray.
“I don’t know how you do it,” Grenn speaks up as he slides next to Jon, having just witnessed the whole thing. He shakes his head. “All these guys that keep hitting on her… If I had a girl like Sansa, I’d never be able to keep my cool.”
Jon snorts, shakes his head. “If you had a girl like Sansa and she chose to be with you out of everybody in the known world, it’s gonna be difficult to be jealous of some random douchebag.”
The thing is, Jon has known Sansa since he was seven, with her two years younger, and even at that age, she’s been dreaming of a charming prince who’ll sweep her off her feet. She has imagined a life full of joy and love right next to a man who will cherish her and spend a lifetime loving her.
Jon will always be astounded that Sansa has chosen him for that role. And, okay, sure, they’re not children anymore. Sansa’s gone through enough bullshit in life that maybe she no longer believes in her childhood fantasies. But all the lessons life has thrown at her have been hard-earned; it’s taught her to be a lot more careful about the people she keeps in her life, the people she trusts.
The fact that she trusts him to love her, to be by her side, to build a life with her? It is an insane fucking privilege, and Jon just can’t find it within himself to be jealous of anyone else when Sansa chose him.
Jon Snow.
Jon the sullen kid, to grumpy teen, to surly adult.
All his mistakes, all the times he was too stubborn to learn from them. She’s seen it all, and she still wants him. Out of anyone in the world. Why in the seven hells would he ever be jealous of anyone else ever again?
***
A patron slides into his section of the bar and Jon goes to assist her. He vaguely recalls her coming in with a group celebrating a birthday. It's been a couple of hours since they came and he can see that she's more than tipsy at this point. It also hasn’t escaped his notice how she keeps coming to him to get her group's rounds.
She gives him a suggestive smile, leaning over the bar counter as if to hear him better and revealing her cleavage in the process.
“What can I get you?" Jon asks with the blandest expression he can muster.
“Your number?” she replies quickly, blushing as if embarrassed that the words slipped out.
“Ah,” he says, putting on a good-natured smile. “That’s not on the menu.”
She starts playing with a lock of her hair. “Can't you make an exception?”
Jon tries not to cringe. “No,” he says. “Do you have a drink order?”
She pouts. She’s about to say something when a girl slips into the space next to her, and Jon presses his lips together to stifle his laughter at the sight of a drunk Sansa giving him a toothy smile.
“Hi, handsome.”
Jon’s mouth tugs up immediately, and he’s just about to reply when the girl turns toward Sansa, flipping her hair as she goes, “Excuse me, I was here first. I was ordering before you interrupted.”
Sansa gives her an apologetic look, eyes wide with feigned innocence, as if only now just noticing the girl. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She waves a hand toward Jon. “Go ahead and order.”
Jon dutifully refocuses on the patron. “Sorry about that. What can I get you?”
“Oh, it's fine,” the patron laughs, starts playing with her lock of hair again, and pretends to think. She bites at her bottom lip as she looks him up and down, the insinuation clear when she says, “How about Sex in the City?”
He glances at Sansa, who is staring at him, spaced out, with a look in her eyes that tells him she’s too lost in her own mind thinking dirty things to notice the girl flirting with him.
That might be for the best; Sansa's usually level-headed, but she can be fierce when it comes to the people she loves.
He lets out a chuckle and shakes his head. He’s fresh out of vodka so he goes to grab a new bottle. He takes a bottle of water on the way back, and leaves it in front of Sansa before starting on the patron’s drink.
The patron makes idle conversation as he works, which he answers despite the innuendos she keeps making, and it seems to slowly draw Sansa back to reality. Her head flips back and forth between Jon and the woman, a curious crease between her brows.
“I’m sorry,” Sansa cuts in as the woman is mid-sentence, her voice loud over the music. “Are you hitting on him?”
“I’m trying,” the girl hisses, just as drunkenly, with an annoyed glare at Sansa, “But you keep butting in.”
Sansa pouts. “I don’t mean to,” she says, swaying lightly, “But I -” she points to Jon. “I should warn you, he’s dangerous.”
Jon’s eyebrows arch up as he finally places the patron’s drink in front of her. He starts wiping the portion of the counter he used, eyes fixed on Sansa as he waits to see where she’s going with this.
Sansa moves closer to the other woman conspiratorially. “Look at him, so pretty…’ she sighs out with a dreamy look in her eyes. “On top of that, he’s kind and gentle and smart. He's such a catch that you'll easily fall for him and he'll literally ruin you for other men.”
Jon barks out a laugh, pushing the bottle of water closer to Sansa. “Drink.”
She ignores this, and opts to go on with her spiel to the girl who now looks confused, “He’s also super great in bed. I can attest to it. Gods, that pouty mouth of his can draw several or -”
“Sansa,” he chokes out, face heating up, “Seven hells, you’re cut off.”
“But anyway, the problem is,” she keeps going, her full attention still on the other girl, “I’m marrying him and I’m willing to fight anyone who stands in the way of that. Even you, but you seem nice so I really don’t want to fight you.” Then, in a more upbeat tone, “Good news is, if you’re just looking for a one night thing, Harry over there is super single. And I hear he’s the kind of guy who will match your freak. Just don’t trust him beyond a half-decent orgasm.”
Jon wrinkles his nose. “Where in the seven hells did you hear that?”
Sansa finally turns to him, that same goofy smile blooming on her face, “Cissy from ABR sorority,” she says, then she waves ‘Harry’ over.
The blond guy from earlier walks towards the two girls eagerly, flashing Sansa a smile that Jon’s not a big fan of. Sansa doesn’t acknowledge it, pushing the guy in between her and the other girl.
“Harry, have you met -” she trails off, blinking at the other girl. “I’m sorry, that’s rude, I didn’t even get your name.”
“Saffron,” the other girl offers, eyeing Harry like he’s a new piece of meat she got served.
“Hey,” Harry grins, giving the girl a flirty look. “I'm Harry.”
They shake hands, then they move closer to each other so they can hear each other over the music, forgetting all about Jon and Sansa.
Satisfied with herself, Sansa beams at Jon and leans up on the counter expectantly. He leans in to give her a kiss, feels her sigh into it as she hooks an arm around his neck.
After a while, she leans back slowly, taking a few seconds before opening her eyes and smiling brilliantly at him. “That's to fend off the rest of them."