Jojen Reed raised his sunglasses up to his forehead, peering up at the silhouetted figure blocking his sun. "Hello. You're not my sister."

"Not remotely." The guy cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm Bran Stark, my family owns the yacht that docks beside yours."

Jojen laid his sunglasses back to rest on his nose. "That's unfortunate. You people are loud as hell."

"Why do you think I snuck over here just as we were leaving?"

Jojen stared at him. "You… just as you were leaving?"

"Yeah. Jumping to the dock isn't that hard when you've got a few years of practice." Bran scratched the back of his head nervously, clearly trying desperately to look casual in front of this guy he'd not only just met, but snuck onto the yacht of. "So, uh, do you mind if I stay? I brought a book."

Jojen glanced at the ratty text in the boy's hand before nodding and gesturing to the seat beside him. "There's plenty of room on our boat for people looking for a bit of peace and quiet. That's why I hardly let my sister above deck." He smiled playfully.

Bran chuckled. "You have an obnoxious sister too? Is yours also a loud tomboy who always has to be better than you?"

Jojen shrugged. "My parents have always understood that I was more meditative in my interests. They tried to respect our differences. Is yours older or younger?"

"Older."

"Me too." Jojen offered his new companion a can of spray-on sunblock. "Here. You might need this."

Bran accepted it wholeheartedly before tugging his shirt off over his head.

Jojen barely comprehended anything for the next few moments, as his eyes were drawn to the lithe, intricate frame of Bran's now bared upper body. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything crude.

"What are you reading?"

"Huh?" Jojen's eyes snapped up to meet Bran's.

"What are you reading?" He repeated, pointing to the book that was still folded open on Jojen's lap.

"Oh, It's, uh… it's basically every letter Lord George Byron ever wrote." Jojen blushed, picking it up, his finger clamped between the pages to save his spot. "It's just something I picked up."

Bran smirked, shaking his head. "That's a lie. I don't know you, and I know that's a lie. You picked that up because you love Byron, probably more for his romantic poetry than his insanity and hemorrhoids, and you most likely wanted to know more about him."

"You're very insightful." Jojen said, blushing slightly. "How can you tell?"

Bran held up his own book, The Vampyre by John Polidori, by partial way of answer. "Because I'm the same way."

This, of course, launched the two boys into an unexpected and lengthy conversation that began with literature in the Romantic Era, then transitioned to where they were attending university, their families and the dynamics within them, and even some talk of favorites, the things they liked, and the things they didn't like. This conversation lasted until the sun began to sink into the horizon, and they lost any sort of reasonable reading light, as well as the warmth of the sun.

"Well," Jojen said once the conversation lulled slightly, standing and offering a hand to Bran, who was now shivering. "Because you can't exactly return to your boat as it hasn't returned yet, would it be too forward of me to invite you into the hot tub?"

Bran took the offered hand gratefully and stood on shaky legs. "I'd love that, actually. How hot can you make it?"

Jojen chuckled. "Very." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing Bran to laugh.

Jojen got in first after leading Bran to the upper deck and uncovering it.

Bran slipped into the hot tub without much of a second thought, sighing when the hot water washed over his chest.

Jojen watched him curiously, a set of deeply depressed scars on Bran's knees catching his eye for the first time.

Bran caught him staring. "You can ask." He said casually, one arm resting on the outer rim of the tub.

"What happened?"

"Shattered my kneecaps." He answered without hesitation, or an inch of awkwardness in his voice. "I was trying to get from the yacht to the dock, but I mistimed my jump and beaned myself on the edge of the docks."

"Shit." Jojen said, dumbfounded.

"I was in a wheelchair for two years."

Jojen stared at him. "Is that how long it takes?"

"Absolutely not. I am a very, very bad patient."

Jojen chuckled at that. "And I'm sure your mother didn't leave you alone for those two years."

"She has been referred to as a 'helicopter mom' more than once."

Each chuckled and trailed off into comfortable silence, one that left them with nothing else to do but to look at either the night sky or each other. Both happened to chose the latter.

Jojen's eyes half-closed as he leaned toward Bran, slow, as not to scare him off and to give him time to escape if he didn't want this.

Bran, however, didn't seem to want to escape at all, given that he too leaned in, cupping Jojen's face with one wet hand and pressing his slightly-open lips to Jojen's.

Within minutes, Jojen was climbing into Bran's lap, fingers curled into Bran's hair, tugging him forward roughly.

Bran woke the next morning in nothing but a sheet that was wrapped around him and shared by the sleeping boy beside him. He flexed the arm that was settled around Jojen's waist, silently signalling the other that he was awake, without risking waking him if he wasn't.

Brief flashes from the night before revisited him in this quiet moment. Bran slamming Jojen up against the wall, kissing him hungrily and burying his hands in his soft, dirty blond hair, still damp from the hot tub; Jojen opening up under his fingertips with hardly any effort; his palms flat against the wall behind Jojen's bed, desperate for some kind of leverage to better please the young man beneath him.

Jojen stirred beside him, rolling over onto his back and rubbing his eyes so he could properly look at Bran. "Good morning."

"Morning." Bran smiled back at him. "Uhm, I should probably mention that I don't do one night stands."

"Neither do I." Jojen said, shaking his head. "I detest them, actually."

Bran hesitated, not sure how to respond to that.

Luckily, Jojen spoke up again before he was socially obligated to say anything. "I'm sorry, that was a horrible response. Poetic, but horrible. What I should have said was 'when can I see you again?'"

Bran buried his face in the sheets so Jojen couldn't see his blush. "Well, how long are you going to be here?"

"I live like, ten minutes from the docks." Jojen chuckled. "You?"

"Not far myself."

"Well, what are you doing tonight? There's a place near here that I've never gotten to try."

"Pick me up at 7?"

Jojen rolled to his side and pecked Bran's lips. "Sealed with a kiss."