Theon was not hiding.
And fuck anyone who said differently.
He had simply said he was going to get a drink and hadn't come out of the kitchen yet. And really this wasn't his fault at all.
Could it be his fault that the Starks lived down the street? Was it his fault that they had decided to host the neighborhood cookout? Was it his fault that Robb was suddenly six feet tall and hot?
None of those were his fault, but he really should have seen it coming.
He'd practically lived at their house for most of his life. He'd watched the younger ones grow up from birth practically. But while he'd been marveling at how Arya and Bran were growing, he'd lacked the presence of mind to look right next to him and see what Robb had become.
"What are you doing in the kitchen?"
Theon whipped around holding his half full glass of water before him as protection. He relaxed when he saw it was just Sansa.
"Nothing, just getting water."
She rolled her eyes. Theon swore she was too young to be that good at it. Not until she was at least fifteen. "Sure. Robb's looking for you."
He may have winced.
It happened like this:
Everything had started normally. He'd ruffled Arya's hair, ignoring her scowl, kissed Catelyn and Sansa on the cheek, ignoring Robb swatting his arm. There was a flurry of activity as the rest of the guests showed up and they had retreated to the back yard, where Robb began grilling.
He didn't even remember what he said, but it was apparently very funny, because Robb had laughed.
And that was the moment.
God he was gorgeous. The afternoon sunlight slanting at just the right angle to bring out the most red possible in his hair and casting long shadows across his face. And his eyes had fucking sparkled as he'd grinned down at Theon.
When had he gotten so tall?
After gaping like a fish for probably much too long, he'd mumbled an excuse and fled to the kitchen.
Really, he prided himself on his wit and eloquence, but it's not everyday you realize you might be a little attracted to your childhood friend.
Watching Sansa leave, he thought he really should have known all along. His entire family was good looking. He himself had called Catelyn a milf on several occasions, much to Robb's disgust. He'd always known Sansa and Arya would grow up to be beautiful, so why hadn't he come to the same realization for Robb?
The kitchen wasn't the safest place to hide and Sansa would be passing on his location any minute now. It was time to move.
He retreated to the bathroom. It was always a solid place to hide (not that he was hiding or anything) because it had a lock and no one got suspicious if you were in there. Even guests had a right to be in the bathroom.
Unfortunately for him, other people had the same idea.
"Whoa, you guys know there's a lock, right?"
The tangled mass of curled hair and roaming hands broke apart into two recognizable people.
Theon acknowledged them with a nod. "Bastard. Slut."
"Fuck off Greyjoy," Jon said, giving him the finger with the hand that wasn't currently occupied with his girlfriend's mass of ginger hair. He may never see that hand again. It's gone.
"Consider it done, prick," Theon said, with a mock salute, giving them a salacious grin as he backed out, shutting the door behind him.
He heard the deadbolt slide into place as he turned away and his grin widened.
It soured when he realized that his hiding (not) spot had been compromised.
He knew the house well and everyone was in the back yard. He could easily slip into some room and go unnoticed for the rest of the afternoon. The idea didn't really appeal to him. Not nearly as entertaining as other people, and perhaps he could evade Robb in a crowd. He could find a girl and maybe this debacle could have a satisfying ending.
"Theon!"
Just his luck.
Turning, he tried to rationalize his thoughts. It was a momentary fluke. A trick of the light. He'd always had a thing for red hair, it was the light and… it totally wasn't. Robb was grinning at him, holding a plate full of raw chicken, looking unfairly hot in faded jeans and a t-shirt that looked worn and soft. Just like his hair.
And this was getting obscenely sentimental.
"What's up, Stark?"
"Where'd you disappear off to?"
Theon shrugged. "I was really fucking thirsty, then I went to the bathroom, but it was occupied by bastard and his slutty girlfriend."
Robb frowned at his choice of language, but broke back into a smile. "Yeah, that sounds like them, they've been at it like rabbits. She is such a bad influence on him."
"You Starks need a bad influence."
"That's why I have you."
"Damn straight. Your parents don't approve."
"Are you kidding? They love you. They don't know all about your less than savory pastimes, and mother still sees you as this vulnerable boy in need of a maternal presence. Nothing will change that."
"Even if I corrupt her baby?"
"Even then."
"Well then I better get started," Theon said, sarcastically.
"I think you better had."
Theon froze.
It happened like this:
It had been banter. That was all, and then that had slipped out of Robb's mouth. He couldn't really have a clue what he'd just said, right? This was Robb. Golden boy.
And he had an innocent smile on his face. All too innocent. He knew exactly what he was doing. I'm onto you, Stark.
"Can we start with a drink? I'm still thirsty."
"Why, Greyjoy, you must be insatiable."
What the—Okay, that. Right there. That one was intentional. Robb was fucking smirking.
Two can play at that game.
And Theon was the master of that game.
He adopted his armor of choice, the patented smirk, and took the offensive, leaning casually against the wall, in a motion that crowded him into Robb's personal space. "Well, I am known for my appetite. So you better hurry up with that chicken, because I'm also known for my impatience."
Robb's eyes widened, and Theon's immediate thought was that he'd made a huge blunder.
"I'll have to be quick about it then, won't I?"
And he left.
Theon watched him go with a fluttery panic in his stomach.
This was either the biggest mistake of his life, or the most brilliant thing he'd ever done.