"Would a Brother Kiss You Like That?"

Note to Readers:

I am a pleasantly obsessed Gendrya shipper. I dislike the soulless killer that HBO has turned Arya into, but prefer the amazing chemistry between Arya and Gendry that was explored earlier. GRRM alluded to a future possible relationship between Gendry and Arya in "The Peach" & "Acorn Hall" ASoIaF chapters, and HBO suggests the same in seasons 2 & 3, especially in the classic "I can be your family" scene, which is the closest "GoT" comes to a Disney fairy tale. Alas, "GoT" is the polar opposite of Disney, and after tempting us with that sweet scene, the writers move on as if it never happened. I would like to imagine what could have followed those heartfelt confessions in the cave, and have written my own version of that fateful conversation. This AU refers back to both GRRM's canon and the HBO TV series, however it considers that Arya spent almost two years total traveling with Gendry . At the time of this story, Arya is 14 – 15, and Gendry is 18 – 19. Hope you enjoy it!

These characters belong to GRRM, and I am so appreciative that he has created them.

Chapter One

"Have you lost your mind?! When the Lannisters find this place, they won't spare the smith!" Arya stormed at Gendry.

She was planning to be reunited with her remaining family at Riverrun, and assumed that Gendry would be by her side where he had been these past two years. Instead, the last of her Kingsroad companions announced that he intended to join the Brotherhood Without Banners.

Her angry words reverberated around the quiet cave, and her freshly washed face and hair shone in the soft torchlight. Arya was often negligent about her grooming, but the Brotherhood, with half an eye on a ransom or fat reward for returning her, insisted that she looked somewhat like a Lady. At least they didn't try to force her into a dress, but accepted her boyish breeches, once they had been cleaned. They realized that someone would get hurt if they tried to change her style. Lem Lemoncloak's broken nose was testament to her fury.

The couple were alone in the cave, and took full advantage of the privacy it afforded. Arya was frustrated and angry. Seven hells, she thought, Why do all the men in my life leave me?! First Jon deserted me for 'duty'. Then Micah, Father, Syrio, and Yoren all left me, but they really didn't have much say in the matter. Jaqen went away too, but he wanted to take me with him. Mayhaps it would have been an adventure if I went to Braavos, but the way he looked at me made me feel weird. Even Tywin left me behind. Although I hated him, I thought he liked me, and I resented being abandoned by him. Hot Pie left me, too. I didn't have much use for him, but he was still part of my pack. Now Gendry, the last of my pack, is leaving me! I didn't think the stupid bull was capable of independent thought, but I guess he doesn't care about me anymore, either. Ooh, these stupid men are so irritating!

Exasperated, Gendry rolled his eyes as he stared at her. Seven hells, she's scolding me again! Why does this fiery child-woman always think that she can plan my life? I'm almost a man grown, and I can make my own decisions!

Her scolding lead him to realize several years ago that Flea Bottom bastard boy "Arry" was actually a girl. This occurred early during their travels up the Kingsroad with the Watch. Arry was shouting about something, probably that "he" didn't need Gendry's protection, with his hands on his hips. And Gendry realized that the boy actually had hips! Hips that flowed into shapely thighs and a small, but perfectly round arse that he had found himself watching without realizing why. There was more proof. He noticed then that Arry's tunic did not lie flat on her chest, that she was developing a bosom. The features of her face, even dirty with mud and under a bad haircut, were too refined, and her smooth skin lacked even a wisp of facial hair. And although she handled her little sword skillfully, the fingers of her hands were long and delicate, definitely not masculine. It thrilled him to know that he was travelling with a pretty girl, but at that time he didn't know how he would reveal that he knew her secret.

Gendry had had his suspicions soon after meeting her. Arry claimed to be a Flea Bottom gutter rat, but her accent was all wrong. Her language exposed her education, and she talked confidently like someone used to giving orders, and being taken seriously when she spoke.

He knew she had feelings for him. In Harrenhal, she would often visit him at the forge, quietly watching him from under lowered lashes as he shaped swords and armor, shirtless and bare-chested in the heat. Once, between hammer strokes, Gendry heard her mutter quietly to herself, 'He's so strong'. He also noticed that when they visited inns, Arya's eyes would narrow and she would scowl when serving wenches would try to get his attention. It was obvious that she was jealous, but she would never, never admit this fact if confronted. Jealousy goes both ways, though. Long ago, on the Kingsroad, he realized that his feelings for her ran far deeper than just friendship when she angrily knocked him down and stormed away after denying that she was a girl and a Lady. And he felt jealousy when she gave Ned Dayne and Anguy attention. He had no right to feel that way, but he did anyway.

Arya could not accept that he wanted to go his own way. "You don't have to do this."

She just doesn't understand. Gendry thought, and told her, "I want to, they need good men," confident that he had found his place in the world.

The little wolf was persistent. "Robb needs good men."

But Gendry did not want to be her brother's servant. He angrily described how he felt serving men in the past, often with his life in danger, and summed it all up. "I'm done serving."

"You just said that you would be serving Lord Beric." As usual, Arya wouldn't give up, but challenged his decision.

"He may be their leader, but they chose him," he replied, having made up his mind.

Gendry tried to explain. "These men are brothers. They are family." She turned away with slumped shoulders, obviously discouraged. He considered her attitude. How can she understand me, with her four brothers, older sister, loving parents, and countless servants?

Staring at her back, he simply added, "I never had a family."

She turned around and gazed at him imploringly, "I can be your family." Gendry froze. He heard the words, but the expression on her face and her tone of voice implied that she was really saying "I love you". He was perplexed, not sure if it was a brotherly love she felt for him or something more. But if it were something more, there could never be anything special between them, he despaired. He was a Flea Bottom bastard, and she was a Highborn, in fact a princess, as he had recently learned, for fuck's sake! Reluctantly, Gendry knew he had to face reality. He bowed his head submissively, "You wouldn't be my family; you would be milady." She looked angry and despondent, and turned sharply, ready to leave in a huff.

Gendry saw that his brave warrior girl was hurt and vulnerable, and he couldn't stand it. He didn't want her to go, and firmly said, "Arya, come here!"

She turned around, looked at him quizzically, and slowly came towards him. They stared intensely at each other. Gendry was seated, so her stormy grey eyes were almost level with his bright blue ones. Neither could speak, but neither wanted to part.

A lock of Arya's unruly hair had fallen over her open face, and Gendry gently reached over and placed it behind her ear, brushing her cheek as he did so. Her eyes closed briefly and she seemed to sigh, leaning closer to him. His hands were instantly on her torso, moving on their own volition, the heels of his palms pressing against the sides of her small, soft breasts. For years, he had been curious about what was underneath her tunic, and he was dying to explore. But there was too much on his mind, and he couldn't let himself get distracted. Focus, focus. He thought, as he slowly moved his face closer.

Gendry pressed his mouth to hers, and she pushed back, curious about the feeling of his lips on hers. He gently bit her lower lip, like she often did when thoughtful or concerned, a sight that he loved. Consciously or not, Arya's mouth opened slightly in invitation, and he tentatively slid his tongue inside. She gasped quietly, but did not pull away. He became bolder, and explored more, shifting deeper into her mouth. Arya copied his actions, and their tongues met, dancing together, increasing in intimacy. To his embarrassment, he started to become aroused, and he hoped that she would not notice and draw back from his embrace.

Arya was surprised by his intensity. He kissed her like a drowning man, desperate for air. She sensed that Gendry needed and valued her. His passion for her was a new experience and made her feel self-conscious and flattered at the same time. Gendry had been a fixture in her life for several years and she had begun to take him for granted. She never imagined what his lips and touch could do to her, and she wanted more.

Casting all modesty aside, she moved her hands from his shoulders into his hair, pressing her face and body closer to his. She knew that Gendry could feel her breasts tight against his chest, and she didn't care. It felt so good! Arya had always sneered when Sansa and Jayne went on and on about kissing handsome knights and speculating at tourneys which ones might be good kissers. Mayhaps they were not as stupid as she had thought.

Kissing Gendry was more fun than anything she could think of at the moment. Her body felt like it was on fire. She could feel parts of her brain shutting down as she focused on his kiss. Her worries, tactics and strategy, Water Dancer defensive awareness, all faded as she became consumed by one thing - Gendry. He groaned quietly, but she knew he was not in pain. Arya moaned softly, and in response he almost cupped her breasts, hesitated, and instead moved his hands to her back and held her tighter, if that was possible. Arya wondered, What was that all about? It might have been nice. I'll have to ask him later.

Wrapped in his sleeping furs at night, lying next to her, Gendry frequently imagined holding and kissing her, just as he was doing now. He was thrilled that she seemed to be enjoying the experience as much as he was, and he was tempted to explore more with his hands. When he had first met her, she was a skinny child, but she had changed into an alluring young woman, and his attraction for her had grown. I wish this could last forever, he thought, and then realized, Arya tastes like sugar! He knew that his little she-wolf, raised in luxury, craved sweets, and always managed to find some, be it the rare piece of cake, an under-ripe apple, or some wild berries.

Arya was enjoying the kiss, and had the urge to slide her hands underneath his tunic, touching that broad chest she often admired. Gendry tastes like smoke, she observed. He spent so much time in a forge that the familiar scent permeated his whole body, and she had grown to love the familiar smell. She noticed that his mustache felt soft and smooth against her face, but where he shaved, his scruffy beard felt as rough as one of the metal files in the smithy. That's going to leave a mark, Arya thought, embarrassed.

Finally they drew apart, mainly with the need to breathe. Both were panting, smiling softly at each other with shining eyes. Arya was excited by her first kiss. She touched her lips to retain the feeling. It thrilled her like riding at a full gallop, or the time that she bested Syrio while sparring. She met his eyes and couldn't help but start blushing, thinking about what they had just done.

He was content, feeling almost as stupid and thickheaded as she often suggested he was. Gendry was still holding her gently. She felt comfortable in his arms. He didn't want to let her go and she made no move to pull away.

Gendry looked at her intently, "Tell me truly, Arya, would a brother kiss you like that? You say we can be family, but I can't think of you as a sister. Where does that leave us? I'm a lowborn bastard and your family wouldn't want me near you."

"I know now that my feelings for you are different than the feelings I have for my brothers, but I'm not sure I understand what that means", Arya replied thoughtfully, "I feel comfortable with you touching me, and I don't want you to leave me. Don't worry about what Robb and Mother will say when I insist that they accept you. No one in my family has ever won an argument with me, and I always get what I want."

Mayhaps Father's 'little princess' knows what she is talking about. Gendry considered, as he stroked her back. She certainly did seem to have some power over men. He remembered how, back in Harrenhal, the smallfolk talked about Lord Tywin's bold, sharp-tongued little cupbearer and messenger. They were amazed how the dour soldier treated her more like a grandchild than a servant, and tolerated her unusual behavior. Arya might have been the only person in the whole castle that was not afraid of the formidable Lord.

Arya pondered out loud, "If Lord Beric makes you 'Ser Gendry', I can present you to Robb and Mother as my sworn shield." She leaned back, looking into his face, and added impishly, "That way we can still spend all our time together and no one will ask questions. We can spar whenever we like, because you need to improve your swordsmanship."

She continued, her mind still concentrating on their future, "Gendry, your past may be less of a mystery than you suspect. Remember after we left King's Landing, how we wondered why those Goldcloaks were looking for you, not me? And before that, Lord Arryn and Father visited you in Flea Bottom. I think Thoros knows something. I have often seen him staring at you, sometimes then looking at me, and then back at you again. I'm going to pester him until he tells me what is on his mind."

Gendry was confident that the clever she-wolf could solve the dilemma. She was a determined girl and between the two of them, she had three quarters of the brain power.

"Now come here," Arya said with a mischievous smirk, pulling on his tunic and drawing him closer, "I want another of your 'non-brotherly' kisses".

"As milady commands," he grinned, only too happy to oblige.