A/N: This is set in a modern AU where Arya and Gendry only met for the first time a week before the events of this story. Arya had just got back from Braavos and she meets Gendry by the side of the road. She hires him to accompany her back to Winterfell.

Night was drawing in. A cold air was creeping over their skin as two figures trudged along the isolated forest, just as they had done for many hours, many days. They carried no luggage, just one small rucksack between them. Finally, one of them, Gendry, a twenty five year old man, dumped the bag on the hard ground. "I'm not going any further," he said finitely.

His companion, Arya, a girl of eighteen, looked at him in disgust. "You most certainly are going further," she snapped defiantly, the cold giving her tone a further bite and her attitude a little more iciness than usual. "We have to keep moving."

"Says who? Look, I didn't ask to come," said Gendry, lowering himself casually to the ground. "It's you who asked for my help, remember?"

Arya bit her lip, stopping her from saying something she'd regret.

"So if you still want me to help you get home in one piece, don't argue. Get it?" He gave her a look that showed he was done talking about it.

Arya's blood became fire in her veins. Her breathing rate increased and her lips tightened. She forcefully wrenched her roughly-cut, mud-coloured hair into a short ponytail, securing it with a hairy around her wrist. She marched forward and snatched up the rucksack Gendry leant against. "What the-?" he watched her stride away deep into the woods. "What are you doing?"

"You're right, you know," Arya turned around to face him, walking backwards into the shadows. "I don't need you. I can find my way home by myself. And I won't need to stop every three seconds either! I release you from any contractual obligation to help me. Goodbye, Gendry."

Gendry stared after her, his mouth gaping wide. He was too confused to react for a while. Suddenly he realised what she was doing. He followed her briskly, almost running to catch up with her. "Hey, I know exactly what you're doing here," he smirked. "You're tricking me into going further with you. Well, milady, it's not working."

Arya looked at him pointedly. "Really?"

"Really," he turned on his most charismatic smile and he stood in front of her, stopping her in her path.

"So why are you following me then?" she shoved past him roughly.

Disgruntled, he swivelled round. "You won't last out there, you know, not just you alone," he called out to her. "You won't make it through the night."

"Do try to remember that I grew up in Winterfell," she called back condescendingly. "It's in the North. It's colder in summer up there than in the bitterest winter down south. And I've made it so far. Besides," she drew the rucksack from her back. "Let's see what's in Gendry's beloved backpack, shall we? Maybe something to help 'make it through the night'?"

She opened the sack and tipped the contents onto the ground.

Armed with a sarcastic tone and a mood darker than the night around them, she rifled through the items. "Let's see... Rope... Blanket... Stale bread... an iPod... Ooh, what's this?" She picked up a bottle of clear liquid and opened it, taking a quick sniff. "Vodka! And there's still lots left! And what's hiding under the blanket-"

Gendry winced as she drew out three small square silver packets.

"Condoms!"

She held them up. Disgust soon grew on her face as she put two and two together. She made a noise of revulsion.

Gendry hurriedly tried to explain. "Wait, it's not-"

"It's not what I think?" she snapped. "What else am I supposed to think? Is money not enough to pay for gallant Gendry's services? What do you take me for?"

She threw them in his face and stormed off, picking up the bottle and taking it with her.