Work Text:
Gendry's phone was set on vibrate. Good thing, he thought, as it buzzed in his pocket, 'cause he'd never be able to hear it over the noise at the Brotherhood Bar. He pulled out the phone, retrieving it to read his new text:
Heading to yours, he read, smiling at the message from Arya Stark, one of his oldest friends. The phone buzzed in his hand before he had a chance to hit reply. Want me to stop and pick up food? the new message asked.
The Brotherhood was busy and customers were trying to get his attention, but he quickly leaned against the back counter and typed, Picked up a shift, home late but hang out if you want.
He put the phone back in his pocket and got to work serving thirsty patrons. When he checked later, he saw the reply, k thx maybe I'll see you. He hoped she'd stay till he got home. He appreciated living on his own, but always felt a little down coming in to the empty flat late at night after last call, knowing it was too late for company or even conversation.
Gendry served patrons steadily all night. He thought of Arya, wondered what she was up to. He hadn't heard from her in a few days, but he knew she relied on him to help her feel grounded, since they were both at university a few towns away from home. Although she would deny it and would punch him in the arm for thinking so, she was used to being taken care of, the youngest sister of a close knit family. He did the best he could.
Gendry's true best friend had been her brother Jon. They were the same year in school. Jon and Gendry were older than Arya and Sansa, the elder Stark sister. Gendry had fancied himself in love with Sansa when he was in junior high, although of course nothing ever came of his schoolyard crush on her except stammering and blushing, Jon and Arya teasing him, and Sansa laughing, somehow confident in her superiority, despite being younger than him. Sansa was a beauty and always out of reach. When it was Arya's turn to develop a crush on him in her junior high days, it only seemed fitting that he turn her down in the same sweet and teasing way her sister had him. He hadn't thought of her crush on him in ages. The years between them had seemed such a massive divide back then.
After the bar closed, Gendry nodded to stragglers as they left for the night while he wiped down the counters, restocked napkins, pulled chairs onto tables so he could sweep. He thought about Sansa. She was engaged to be married and the wedding was just around the corner. He wondered what kind of person had landed the warm and beautiful Sansa Stark. Sansa had been the first of them to actually leave home. She'd been a hard-worker, never one to rely on her looks, and she'd gotten a scholarship to a liberal arts college in Highgarden. Now she was graduating, engaged, and set to begin life in King’s Landing.
Jon had moved farther away, too. Gendry'd always assumed they would both go to Westeros State, only an hour or so away from home, and be roommates, drinking beer and looking for girls together. But Jon was very smart and very earnest. He was the most honorable guy Gendry had ever known. When he applied to Night’s Watch, he said he just wanted to see if he could get in, but Gendry knew then that his friend was on a different path. They'd be fools not to take him and Jon would never refuse after being accepted.
So when it was time for them to graduate, Gendry found himself as left behind as Arya. Jon went north to the Wall and he came to State, drank beer with the other freshmen, and looked for girls with his roommates, decent guys that never really felt like friends. He loved the freedom of college, but went home on weekends to do his laundry and hang out with Arya. She'd asked him once why he never brought girlfriends home to visit and he knew then, from the plummeting feeling he had in his stomach, that he really wasn't looking that hard at any girls at school. "The Stark sisters have ruined me for girls," he'd teased. He wanted to ask what happened to the boys she used to date, but the moment passed and he was glad.
When she graduated from high school, Gendry joined Jon, Sansa, and their family to watch her get her diploma. That same summer, Gendry's mom remarried and moved to Braavos. She had been alone for so long that Gendry couldn't begrudge her any happiness. In fact, although it changed everything for him, he had to admit that his mom's new husband seemed like an okay guy. Still, he was unnerved to suddenly be saying goodbye to his childhood home. Luckily for him, Arya moved into the dorms and started at State that fall, so he had a bit of home close by after all.
He had moved out of the dorms and into his own small apartment. He was in school part time now, paying his own bills by working at the Brotherhood Bar. It was a bit of the dive, but the owners treated their bartenders pretty well. Arya hated that he worked there because she couldn't hang out with him while he worked, but Gendry had to admit that it was probably for the best. He'd hate to watch her fending off admirers all night, or worse, watch her flirt back.
After he closed out the cash register and put all the receipts and cash into the bar's safe, Gendry finally headed home, his stomach rumbling. He thought about what he could make to eat out of what he knew were meager pickings in the fridge. If Arya was still there, she'd surely be asleep by now. He parked in front of his apartment, and quietly crept in, careful not to turn on any lights. He saw her curled up under a blanket on his couch, and let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. There was a covered bowl of something with a note on it:
2 minutes in the microwave. Wake me up!
He grinned as he uncovered the bowl and saw that it was some kind of hearty stew, exactly what his stomach wanted. He popped the bowl in the microwave and waited impatiently. Once he had the hot bowl in hand, he went and sat at the end of the couch, taking a bite of stew before placing his hand on Arya's head and threading his fingers through her hair.
She stretched and nudged his leg with one arm, her head coming into contact with his thigh. He scooted further back into the couch, allowing her to use his lap as a pillow, moving the microwaved bowl forward, careful not to burn her with it. She adjusted, opening her eyes and grabbing a throw pillow to wedge between her head and his lap. She yawned. He chuckled. "Comfortable?" He said softly. She was dressed in oversized flannel pjs, old ones of Jon's that she kept in his dresser.
"Getting there," she answered. "Oh good, you found the leftovers."
"Thanks Arya" he replied and she asked him how work had been.
He told her about the customers that had come in: one group of unruly sorority girls who took up a huge amount of counter space and expected undivided attention. At least they tipped well. A couple of Unsullied came in, made him a bit nervous. They'd ended up being helpful when one sorority girl got too drunk and some scum bag from Alpha Phi Lannister was trying to hustle her over to his house. They'd brokered an exchange of phone numbers instead and made sure the girl got in a cab headed back to the sorority house with a friend.
Arya looked up at him. "Would you have stepped in if they hadn't been there?"
He took his last spoonful of stew and set the bowl down. "In this instance," he said, thinking realistically, speaking slowly, " I probably would have because it was all happening at the bar. I guess this kind of thing happens all the time, though, right out of earshot from me."
"Is it the reason you don't ever get drunk?" She asked, and he looked down at her, startled.
"I get drunk" he said, somewhat belligerently. He backed up and rephrased, "I don't NOT get drunk. Did I ever say I didn't?" He looked at her and she sat up.
"Really? I guess I just assumed, since I've never seen you drunk. You don't ever come home drunk. You never drink with me."
Gendry looked at Arya , thinking back on their shared history. It was true, he and Jon had gone to parties in high school and stood around backyard kegs, filling and refilling their plastic cups. They weren't the boys crushing beer cans to their skulls, but they'd had their share of laughs. They'd also shared evenings with Sansa and her friends. Gendry's girlfriend his senior year of high school had been friends with Sansa and it was on one of these nights, a bonfire on the beach night, or a night with music and lights flashing and dark corners and dancing close, that he and Jeyne got together.
But Gendry and Jon never took Arya with them to parties and he can't imagine Sansa did either. "But you don't drink." Gendry said to her, and she laughed.
"Gendry, I'm a freshman in college. You saw me in highschool. I had friends, I went out, I dated. What do you think we did? You lived there too. You know what there was to do in Winterfell!"
"You mean nothing," he joked.
"Nothing to do but drink and screw," she said, and when his head whipped around and his panicked eyes met hers, she started laughing again, holding up her hands, "Kidding! I'm kidding, Gendry!"
Gendry stood up. Arya looked up at him, still laughing, but a bit annoyed by his reaction. "Relax, old man. Sit down." He sat down, but further away from her on the couch. This was the girl who'd, only minutes ago, had her head in his lap, who'd listened to his stories while he thought nothing of stroking her hair, who'd brought him dinner and waited for him, who had his spare key. He hadn't thought of her as a child, really, but neither had he realized that she wasn't one, and hadn't been one for some time. "What's wrong with you, anyway?" she asked a little nervously.
His mind was stuck on that last joke, nothing to do but... He could hardly bear knowing she was old enough to make the joke, let alone follow through with it. Then he realized that he knew Jon and Sansa's high school sexual history as well as his own. He thought he knew Arya's as well, in that he just assumed she didn't have one. "Arya, " he started. What did he want to know? What was he thinking? He heard the plaintive note in his voice.
She pulled her knees up and hugged them, setting her cheek against them, letting her long brown hair sweep forward and hide her from view. He smiled at the sight of her, but worried that this girl who they all thought they protected had actually long been on her own, looking out for herself, right behind them.
"Arya, " he tried again, this time poking her in the side where he knew she was ticklish. "What," she said in a somewhat exasperated voice.
He went to the kitchen and opened the fridge, pulling out the last two beers of a six pack he'd been slow to drink. She was right, he didn't drink at work, but being around beer all the time, he didn't always drink at home, either. Plus, he wasn't interested in drinking alone. But tonight, he wasn't alone. He grabbed the bottle opener and the two bottles and went back to stand before her. Arya was eyeing him now, but a slow grin was forming on her mouth. She unleashed it once he popped the cap off the first bottle and handed it to her. He couldn't help grinning back once he popped the cap off his own beer.
"Cheers," he said, knocking his bottle against hers.
"Cheers," she answered, sitting back against the couch cushions and taking a sip, looking at Gendry from under her lashes, uncharacteristically blushing. Gendry regarded her with a smile, drinking from his bottle. Finally, he sat down next to her and put his arm around her, leaning his head towards her to tap her head with his. She looked at him quizzically. "Are you mental?" she teased. "What the hell?" Her tone, pleased, though confused, told him his peace offering was accepted.
Gendry shrugged. "It's an apology. For not seeing you. For taking you for granted."
Arya slumped against him, her head propped up on his chest. "That's alright. That's family." She took another swig of her beer.
Gendry nodded slowly, "Yep. That's family. But we're not family. We're friends."
She looked up at him, brightened, "Like you and Jon?" In truth, Jon had been the last thing on his mind, but Gendry smiled and pulled her a little closer.
"Whatever you want," he said, and he finished off his beer in a heroic guzzle.
"Ahhh," he said, as if it had been the most satisfying thirst quenching experience of his life. "Now I can go to bed." Arya laughed. "You good out here?" Gendry said, meaning the couch. "You can sleep in my room, too, if you want."
It wasn't a come on. Gendry's bed was plenty big and they'd shared it lots of times.
"I'll sleep with you," Arya said, before stuttering, "I mean, your bed, you know what I mean."
Gendry smiled, feeling himself darken at her words, pleased that she'd be sleeping with him in his bed, and well chuffed at her nervous blush. He felt like a wolf suddenly for feeling this way, and retreated to drop his empty bottle in the kitchen. When he came back out, he saw Arya chugging the last of her bottle, too.
"Nice, " he applauded, and she let out a moist, loud burp that lasted seconds longer than he expected.
She laughed, "That was a good one!"
"World class," he replied.
Then he followed her as she made her way, already in her pjs, wrapped in the blanket from the couch, to his bathroom. There, they brushed their teeth and eyed each other, smiling, in the mirror, taking turns spitting and rinsing. Gendry's thoughts were on her toothbrush, the fact that she kept one at his house, and the fact that it kept him company on nights she stayed on campus. He didn't place any importance on it, just would see it and think, "That one's Arya's." Just enough to know he wasn't alone.
He went to his room while she finished up in the bathroom and he stripped his jeans and t-shirt off. He dug a pair of sweatpants out of his bottom drawer and, when Arya came in, went back out to the bathroom to take his turn. Their routine was so comfortable, he realized, that he'd just walked around in his boxers in front of her. And of course he never wore a shirt to bed. Was this friendship? Gendry washed his face in the sink, wondering. He knew that he was happy with her, she made him happy. He knew he thought she was adorable and that he did his best to take care of her and he appreciated that she took care of him, too.
He suddenly looked at himself in the mirror, face dripping with water. When did he start thinking of Arya Stark, sister to his best friend, childhood playmate, family friend, as "adorable?" She's actually very pretty, Gendry's traitorous brain reminded him, and he groaned. Finishing up in the bathroom, he headed to his room and hoped to be able to fall asleep quickly.
Arya was sitting up in the middle of his bed, wrapped in the couch blanket, waiting for him. "So, " she said, without looking at his naked chest. "I guess Jon will bring Ygritte to Sansa's wedding." Ygritte was Jon's girlfriend. They'd met at the Wall and by all of Jon's accounts, he was incredibly lucky that she was interested in him. He loved her, of that he was sure. He was hoping she felt the same way.
"Oh yeah, Ygritte." Gendry said, getting under his covers. "Do you still need the light?"
Arya got under the covers on her side. "No," she answered. Gendry turned out the light. Arya spread the blanket from the couch over both of them, then bunched up the covers on her side trying to get comfortable.
"Have you ever met her?" he asked.
"Who, Ygritte?" Arya said. "Not in person. Just on Skype. She seems nice. She obviously loves Jon. He's an idiot if he doesn't know it."
Gendry laughed. "Yeah. That's what it seems like to me, too."
They're quiet for a minute. Then Gendry asked, "Have you ever met Margaery?" and Arya turned to face him in the dark.
"I have," Arya replied. "You haven't?" She's surprised. He doesn't bother to answer the question.
"Sansa never really kept up with me once she left home," is what he said instead. He can hear hurt in his response, which he didn't expect, and he attempts to mask it with his next comment, a dumb joke. He turned to face Arya, seeing her lit by the moon. "I guess I know why she didn't want to go out with me in middle school, though."
Arya smiled ruefully and reached a hand out to Gendry. He took it and they lie facing each other, eyes still open, holding hands.
"Margaery is really pretty," Arya says, looking down. You're really pretty, Gendry wants to say. Why can't he say it? They've never held hands in bed before. Have they ever held hands at all?
"Jon says she's really smart and that he wouldn't be surprised if she has political ambitions." His voice sounds flat. He really was happy for Sansa, but it did sting that she never talked to him about her girlfriend. She had always been happy to confide in him about the boys she dated in high school, but once she fell in true love, she couldn't be bothered to give him a call. He'd heard about it first from the wedding invitation. He'd had to call Jon to clarify what the hell was going on.
"Yeah, I think he's intimidated by her," Arya said. "I am."
"You are? Why is Sansa marrying her?" Gendry had no stake in the answer, but Arya shoved him, "Oh, just because Sansa was never in love with you," she teased.
"Shut up," Gendry shoved back, the same teasing in his voice. He used the movement as an excuse to edge closer to her, keeping hold of her hand, wrapping his other hand in it as well. He focused on their hands as he tries to formulate what he wants to say. "I just mean, I just hope Sansa will be happy, you know, for life." He looked up at Arya and she is looking at him intently. "I mean, they're really young," he continued.
"Well, you know Sansa. She's always been like this," Arya said. "AP classes, check. Valedictorian, check. Highgarden University, check. 4.0 GPA, check." She makes the check mark motions in the space above their heads. "Now it's, marriage, check. Job, check. Retirement account, check. Last will and testament, check." There's a bitterness to Arya's description, one they both recognize as being accurate, though farfetched.
"Hey," Gendry nudges her with his shoulder, he's gotten that close to her. "Be nice," he chides. But he smiles at her words. No nonsense Sansa. Arya cackles and it makes him laugh, too.
"I just don't understand why she doesn't want to live a little," Arya complains. "I mean, King’s Landing! Twenty one years old, great job, she's gorgeous," Arya's eyes flit away from his at this, "but she wants to get married. Now. Before any of it. I mean, great, I love my sister. It just wouldn't be my choice." Arya tries to pull her hand away, but Gendry holds on.
"Wait a minute, maybe that's the answer, though" he says and she doesn't know what he's talking about. She leaves her hand in his, though, and he's glad. "I mean," he continues, "maybe Sansa can't wait to be there and share it all with Margaery. I guess maybe that's how they knew they were ready." Gendry's been absentmindedly rubbing Arya's hand with his thumb. All of a sudden, he wants to draw it to his mouth and kiss it. Now it's his turn to drop her hand. He doesn't mean to, but he feels like he's overstepping boundaries left and right. Her eyes dart to where he's just abandoned her and she draws her hands automatically closer to herself, pulls them under her chin, draws her knees up.
Gendry can't bear it any longer. He reaches out to her, tucks her long brown hair behind her ears, thumbs her bottom lip, and caresses her cheekbone with the back of his fingers. She is very still. Then he takes her hand back in his and says, "and stop acting like you aren't beautiful. You are. You must know it, don't you? You've seen yourself, haven't you?"
Her mouth drops open and she closes it abruptly. She opens her mouth again to speak, but nothing comes out. She's speechless. He smiles. "You know it, don't you?" And she shakes her head. He can see that her breathing his gotten heavier and she covers her face with her hands when he sits up on his elbow to lean over to her. "You okay?" he says gently. She shakes her head again.
He pulls her to him, wraps his arms around her and watches her. She is still. "Is this okay?" he asks, his arm under her neck, his hand bunching in the green and blue flannel of her pajama top, resting on her side. She nods. "It's weird, though, huh?" he admits, and she nods again, and releases a chuckle. She starts to breathe, but still has her hands over her face. He knows that he's crossed a line in their friendship, but he's hopeful that she won't hate him for it.
"Arya, please tell me what you're thinking."
She is quiet for a long time. He finally takes it as a hint and starts to remove his arms from around her, but she moves then, holds onto his shoulder, moves a leg in between his, rubs a foot with her toes. It's much more intimate than he was expecting and he jolts before relaxing into this new embrace.
He looks at her in the dark and she looks back at him warily. "Do you mean I should think I'm pretty," she asks, not trusting, "or do you mean, YOU think I'm really pretty? And don't try to give a sneaky answer. Just tell me."
He chuckles. "Fair enough, " he says, and then he tells her, "Look, I'm not gonna lie, tonight's been intense. But not because of anything that's happened. Or anything we've said. I mean, it's because of how we are. With each other. In a way that's great." She is still waiting for his answer, but she's patient.
"When I brush my teeth and you're not here, " he tells her, "I have your toothbrush and I think of you." He looks at her, he strokes her hair, and her breath hitches. "You know how you're on your side of the bed?" He pauses, wonders if she's understanding, wants to kiss her. "That's your side of the bed, always, even if you're not here." He sees a glimmer of understanding, a shy smile, a gleam in her eye. "You keep pajamas over here; you keep stuff in a drawer at my house.” This, for a couple of kids, is the marker of a serious relationship, deeper than friendship. "And I never really thought about it until tonight, until I saw you again. Opened my eyes and saw you, not as Arya who I take care of because she's family, but Arya my friend who is not related to me at all," he hears her laugh a little at this, although he can see tears forming in her eyes, as well. "Arya who I think is really pretty." He is holding both sides of her face now, wiping away stray tears, and she reaches up to hold his wrists. "Really pretty," he says again, and she slides her leg further between his legs as she moves closer. "Really pretty," he whispers, and she slides her hand up his arm before resting it on his bare shoulder.