Jon squinted at the hotel clerk's name tag. Podrick Payne. At least he knew the name of the young man who was making his night so difficult.
"I'm sorry sir." Podrick glanced at the computer console. "There's only one room left."
Sansa wasn't buying it. "You've got to have another room available."
Podrick looked sheepish. "I apologize ma'am. We've got a big wedding in tonight."
Jon glared at Podrick from behind a stack of suitcases. "We know. We're here for one. The Tyrell/Martell wedding." He was ready to be done with this hotel lobby and its paisley carpet. More importantly, he was eager to get to his own room. He was all too aware of Sansa at his side.
Sansa picked up his cue. "Yes, there should be a block of rooms reserved. Surely, you've set aside those rooms?" She gave Podrick her sweetest smile. Jon almost pitied him.
Podrick ducked his head. "Yes, absolutely, there's a block of 20 reserved for that event." Great, Jon thought, now we're getting somewhere. Sansa looked guilty, though, rather than triumphant. "Oh no. I forgot. I gave you guys the wrong number. It's my fault, Jon. I was supposed to handle the hotel reservations and I told them to set aside 20 rooms, not 21."
Jon couldn't stand seeing Sansa upset. He knew how important this wedding was to her. "It's fine, Sansa. We'll be fine." Of course. Sharing space with his best friend's little sister, who he'd had a crush on for 3 years. Fine. No problem.
He almost asked if the room had a couch, but thought it might give Sansa the idea that he needed the bed. He could sleep on the floor. Sansa gave Jon a weary nod of thanks and trudged off to the elevator with the room key in her hand. They stood in uncomfortable silence as the floors ticked by. Sansa fidgeted with her red coat. "Thanks Jon. I'm sure this isn't what you were hoping for tonight." Jon wasn't sure how to navigate that particular minefield, so he gave her what he hoped was a reassuring nod.
Sansa swung the door to 546 open. As promised, one king-size bed heaped with pillows and, Jon noted with regret, no couch. The floor it is then, he thought. They busied themselves unpacking, careful not to look at each other. Sansa hung up her bridesmaid's dress in the closet.
"Teal. Really? Teal? I know Margaery wants a peacock-themed wedding, but do her bridesmaids have to actually look like the birds?"
"I think it looks nice on you," Jon said.
"And when did you see me wearing this dress, Jon Snow?" Sansa was teasing him. Jon swallowed. "Margaery texted Oberyn your group photo during the bachelor party." Jon had never liked strip clubs, and he'd spent a good five minutes looking at the photo on Oberyn's phone before the boys roped him into another lap dance. He was pretty sure they just enjoyed seeing him blush.
"Here, give me your tux, Jon. No, you are not going to just toss it over a chair, give it to me to hang up in the closet."
Jon handed her the garment bag. "No one's going to be looking at me tomorrow, Sansa."
"Well, I think you look handsome in a tux. You did at Robb's wedding." The idea that Sansa had spent any time thinking about how he looked flustered him.
Jon and Sansa stretched out "getting settled" for a good half hour, but you could only pretend to rearrange a sock drawer so many times. Jon had gotten ice down the hall while Sansa changed. Sansa perched on the edge of the bed, her braid pulled over her right shoulder. She looked more lovely in grey flannel than any of the scantily-clad women at Oberyn's celebration.
Sansa coughed. "I'm sorry to be a homebody, Jon, but I do need to sleep, there's going to be a lot going on tomorrow. Do you need to change?"
"No, I'm fine, no worries." He'd sleep in his jeans if it meant not navigating the bathroom with Sansa. He saw her pull her sleeves down over her hands. "Let me turn the heat up." The room was freezing.
Ten minutes later the temperature hadn't budged. Sansa called downstairs. "They apologize. There's nothing they can do. They'll drop off more blankets for us." Jon answered the door and took the pile of blankets from an even more apologetic looking Podrick. He got to work setting up a makeshift bed on the floor. "Sansa, could you toss me a pillow?" He switched off the lights when she said she was ready.
It was easier between them in the dark. "I think Margaery's marrying Oberyn for his money." Sansa sounded sad. "Well, what do I know of the world? Money could be a perfectly good reason." She sighed. "I had a lot of silly dreams about marrying. Now I just want someone who's kind. Who'll treat me well. Who'd think of getting married like an adventure we'd have together."
"You'll find him, Sansa."
"Thank you J-Jon."
"Sansa? Are you all right?"
"Just cold." Sansa's voice sounded small. "Jon, I trust you. Please, just come join me." He couldn't say no to that voice. The mattress dipped under his weight. Sansa was huddled in a ball, and his heart went out to her. "Sansa. Here. Get under all these blankets." He knew a bit about managing cold, he camped a lot, and he soon had the two of them bundled up. He could feel the heat from her body, and caught the scent of lavender, and if he reached out he could almost touch her hair, and that was quite enough of that. He stretched out next to her at a respectful distance. Platonic. Platonic distance. Was that even a thing?
But then he felt her shiver, and he gathered her up in his arms. For safety. So she wouldn't get cold. Then her arms twined around him, and he wasn't sure he could pretend this was for health reasons any more. Her hair was silky under his fingers, he could feel the warmth of her breath on his neck, and he knew he was a goner.
"Sansa…" The word came out somewhere between a warning and a prayer.
Sansa's voice was a whisper. "Jon. It's fate. I've been too shy to tell you I like you, but I do. There's no one else I'd rather share a bed with. If you don't feel the same way, I understand-"
Jon stopped her with a kiss. Her lips were soft, and she let out a small gasp. He drew back, worried, but her eyes were soft, and she kissed him again with a contented sigh. Soon he was cradling the back of her head, making noises of his own as she ran her hands through his hair. She broke away and curled into his chest. "I just want to kiss you tonight, Jon. Is that all right?" Jon held her tight. He silently cursed any man who made her think differently. "Sansa, I could die happy kissing you. I've wanted to kiss you for years." Sansa tilted her head. "Well, I'd better not kill you before the wedding. That would be a lot to explain tomorrow. But I think we can kiss a little longer. It helps keep me warm, after all." He saw a mischievous glint in her eye. He grinned at her. "Let's make sure you say warm then."
Podrick waved at Jon and Sansa as they scurried off to the wedding. They looked like they hadn't gotten much sleep, but they were buoyant and in a world of their own as they left through the glass doors. Podrick had known Sansa since the third grade, and he was glad to see her with a good guy for once. He read the note Sansa had left along with her room key.
Turning the heat off was a great touch. I owe you! x Sansa