The Inescapable Oppression of the Gray

by Winterlyn Dow

Gendry has determined that he needs to separate himself from Arya and figure out how he can be happy without her. Too bad Jon and Arya won't exactly allow him to do that. And then there's Jaqen… Part 6 in the series "Need in the City That Care Forgot," this is Gendry's POV immediately following "A Friend Too Long Left Wanting More." There is a Pinterest board for this one as well.

A/N: this is the sixth part in the series Need in the City That Care Forgot. This part details Gendry's POV immediately following the end of A Friend Too Long Left Wanting More, when Gendry watched Arya ride away on the back of Jaqen's motorcycle. You may recall that Gendry was dismayed by what he'd witnessed, and he left the Stark home immediately afterward, without telling anyone, to return to his Warehouse District condo and sleep in his own bed. I apologize for the inordinate amount of fluff. I found myself unable to contain it.

Also, there is a bit more naughty language in this one than I usually write. To my great surprise, Gendry and Jon tend to use more profanity when something is upsetting them.

---

Well I've been living on the crumbs of your love
And I'm starving now

---

Repeated, staccato thumping on his bedroom door pulled Gendry from his sleep. He groaned, his eyes flickering open only to immediately squint against the rays that filtered through the delicate sheers drawn partway across his too-large bedroom windows.

"Just look at this light!" the realtor had commented breathlessly when she'd shown him around the large warehouse district condominium a year ago. It was really a formality; his father had already signed the papers. Still, the woman was enamored with the place, and she seemed to want Gendry to be just as enthusiastic about it as she was. Back then, the oversized, multi-paned windows of the converted textile mill had seemed like a selling point, giving a spectacular view of the city from his bed. "Isn't it gorgeous?" she'd practically moaned in ecstasy before beaming up at him. He'd nodded absently, not realizing yet how desperately he'd need to invest in blackout curtains.

"Gendry, I swear to God, if she's in there, I will kick your ass!" an angry Jon threatened through the door, pounding on it again.

"What?" the large man grunted, throwing his sheet and comforter back before sitting up. He placed his bare feet against the wooden planks of his bedroom floor, sniffing a bit as he looked over at his clock. It was early. Too early. And after all the bourbon he'd used to drown his dark thoughts when he'd arrived back home the night before, he'd been hoping to sleep until lunch time. He wasn't hung over exactly, but he also wasn't excited about the prospect of being awakened so shortly after the sunrise.

"I'm coming in," Jon warned, "and she'd better not be in there!"

"What the hell are you talking about, man?" Gendry called back hoarsely, rubbing one rough palm against his forehead and wincing. The door flew open and his friend stormed in. The larger man eyed Jon blearily, taking in his attire: loose drawstring shorts, a faded fraternity t-shirt, and his running shoes. His own attire was more appropriate for this time of the morning: boxers and beard stubble. Gendry scoffed. "Sorry dude, I'm not in the mood for a run this morning."

"What?" Jon spat, his face dark. "I'm not here to invite you to a workout, asshole. I'm looking for my sister!"

Confusion marred Gendry's face. "Well, I haven't seen her." At Jon's scowl, he was suddenly defensive. "I haven't! Not since last night at dinner with your family."

"Dinner with my family? What are you talking about?"

"Dinner," Gendry repeated slowly, his voice taking on an edge of snark. "Last night. With your family? I sat across from Sansa at the table, then she left to go to a movie with her friends. I haven't seen her since then. Why would you even think I had?"

"Not Sansa, you jackass. Arya!" The usually calm and steady Jon seemed to be getting more agitated by the second, enough to give his friend pause. Gendry blinked and his mouth drew into a frown. Arya. In his morning haze, he'd completely forgotten.

Arya had come home. Well, almost. She hadn't made it past the driveway. He glowered and amended the thought. No, she hadn't made it past her sketchy neighbor's motorcycle.

His frown deepened.

"Wait," he said, his voice low and scratchy. He stood and faced Jon. "Arya's not at home?"

"No," his friend hissed. "Why do you think I'm here, genius?"

"I really don't know why you're here, Jon," Gendry replied, his tone clipped. The last of his sleepiness had bled from him and he was becoming irritated. He walked to his dresser and opened a drawer, grabbing a t-shirt to throw on, pulling it over his head and stretching it down his bare chest. He found some jeans then and stepped into them as his friend filled in the blanks.

"I got up early this morning to run so I could get back and shower before Arya showed up. Imagine my surprise to see her car already in the driveway. But you know whose car wasn't there? Yours. I went back into the house and saw that both of you were missing." Jon glared across the room at Gendry as he zipped his jeans. "If you were me, what would you be thinking?"

Gendry straightened then, crossing his arms. "What would I be thinking? I don't know, man, but it wouldn't be that my best friend had kidnapped my baby sister."

"She really hasn't been here?" The worry was clearly etched on Jon's forehead.

"No." Gendry grabbed a pair of socks and dropped into a leather club chair in the corner to pull them on before slipping into his shoes. "But I know who we should be asking." He stood then and moved toward his bed.

"What are you talking about?"

"Come on, let's roll," the larger man replied, grabbing his wallet and keys off his nightstand. "I'm driving."

"Where?"

"I'll explain on the way."

---

"Slow down, you're gonna get a ticket," Jon warned as Gendry whipped around Lee Circle.

"Really? After what I told you, you're worried about a ticket?"

"If you get pulled over, it's going to take even longer to find her," Jon growled. "Just get us there in one piece, man."

Gendry pressed his lips together tightly, neither replying to nor heeding his friend's advice, shifting gears and sliding in and out of traffic, advancing his classic 280Z up St. Charles at a nearly reckless pace.

"It's probably nothing," Jon was mumbling, sounding as though he wished to convince himself his words were true. "It'll end up being something stupid, like she was in the bathroom when I was looking for her."

Gendry shook his head, a disgusted look on his face. "You don't believe that."

"No. I don't believe that. But I also don't believe my dad's neighbor has her tied up in a closet like you seem to."

"I've been telling you forever, that dude is shady as hell, Jon. I don't know why you don't see it." Gendry pressed more firmly on the gas pedal and shot around a sedan he deemed too slow for his taste. "What kind of lawyer puts a young girl on the back of his bike in the dead of night and disappears with her? And why would he do that? What does he even want with her? She's half his damn age!"

"She's not half his age," Jon groaned, "and I can't do this with you right now."

"Do what?" Gendry's words came out harsher than he meant them, but he hadn't had as much sleep as he would've liked, and what he'd lacked in sleep he'd more than made up for in bourbon, and then Jon had practically accused him of… well, doing what he'd been thinking of doing for the past year or more, but still, he'd never actually done it, so the accusation wasn't really fair. And then, to find out Baby Stark hadn't made it home after her midnight adventure… He wasn't feeling terribly genial, and he wasn't particularly concerned with whatever impression he was making at the moment. Jon still hadn't answered him, so he repeated the question, this time his voice nearly menacing as he did. "Do what?"

Jon huffed and cut his eyes at his friend. "Sit in this car and speculate about depraved shit I really don't want to consider right now."

Gendry was shaking his head. "I swear to God, if he's laid one finger on her, I'll kill him."

"Calm down. Let's just get there and find her before you start premeditating Jaqen's murder."

Jaqen. Just the sound of his name triggered Gendry's rage. He tried to pretend it was simply because he was concerned for Arya. He didn't want to admit there might be another layer to it; that he could be jealous, or disappointed, or hurt.

He didn't want to admit that when he'd dashed downstairs to welcome her home and found that instead of leaping into his arms, she was riding away into the night with another man, it felt like a piece of his heart had been utterly crushed beneath her careless heel.

The Datsun's tires nearly squealed as he whipped the car into the Stark's driveway, then they did squeal as he slammed on his brakes to avoid hitting Arya. She was standing behind her Audi, lifting out a bag and closing the trunk just as they pulled in. Startled at the sound, she spun around, her mouth open in shock as she stared through Gendry's windshield at the two friends. The men were stunned themselves, frozen in their seats, but only for a moment. Arya balled up one fist and pressed it against her cocked hip, tilting her head and smiling at them. That was all it took to break the spell, and Jon and Gendry each thrust their doors open, bolting from the car as if they were racing to see who could reach the girl first.

Jon won.

"Fucking hell, Arya," Jon whispered hoarsely as he swept her up in his arms, holding her almost painfully tight. "Oh, Jesus." He squeezed his eyes shut and heaved a great sigh.

"Good morning to you, too, brother," the girl laughed, bemused. She wrapped her arms around him in return, giving him a fierce hug, whispering back, "I've missed you. You don't even know how much."

Gendry stood back, tall and stiff, his arms crossing over his chest as he glared at them. He could only hold his tongue for a minute as the reunion scene played out. His impatience wouldn't allow more than that.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, his humorless voice at odds with Arya's own mood. It drew her up short. She pulled away from her brother and moved a step closer to her old friend, staring at him as if she was not quite sure whether to take him seriously.

"Away at school," she said slowly, "as you know very well."

"No, Arya, he means where were you this morning," Jon clarified. "I got up early to run and I saw your car here, but I couldn't find you anywhere. We've been worried sick."

The girl looked from her brother to Gendry then back again before speaking. "You… couldn't find me, so… instead of calling me or texting me, you… drove to Gendry's to… form a posse and hunt me down?" She smirked as she finished, cocking an eyebrow.

Jon was visibly relieved to simply see her and note that she was unharmed. As happy as he was to see his sister, Gendry could tell Jon was inclined to laugh the whole thing off, throw an arm around her, and walk her to the breakfast table for some of Catelyn's Eggs Benedict.

No way in hell he was letting her off that easy. Or Jon either, for that matter.

"No," Gendry glowered, "he didn't bother to text or call you before barging into my place. Why do you suppose that is?"

Arya shook her head and shrugged. "I don't get it," she said, looking between her brother and her friend. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm trying to say that your brother didn't want to warn you he was coming. He was hoping to catch us red-handed."

"What are you talking about, G?" the girl asked, smiling up at her old friend, but her amusement faded as she regarded his face. It was obvious she didn't understand his mood.

"I'm talking about Jon beating my door down at some ungodly hour this morning to make sure I wasn't fucking you in my bed, because that's immediately what he assumed when he couldn't find you."

Jon cleared his throat, looking uncomfortably at his sister before addressing Gendry.

"I'm sorry, man. I really didn't mean anything, I was just worried."

"Yeah, I know. You were worried I was sneaking around with your sister when you should've been worried about your pervert of a neighbor."

Arya's head snapped toward Gendry. "And what does that mean?" she hissed, pushing past Jon and stepping in close to the larger man. He knew her well enough to know her mood had become dangerous, and that he ought to tread lightly, but he was past caring.

"I saw you last night," he told her, his hands migrating to her face when she tried to look away from him. He pressed her cheeks between his palms and forced her to face him. "I saw you." He inhaled and exhaled sharply through his nose.

Jon moved protectively to Arya's side, watching Gendry, wary; poised to intervene should intervention be called for. It should've been insulting, that Jon would be concerned his friend could ever hurt his sister. Despite Gendry's history of… temper… Jon should've known better. And perhaps it would've bothered Gendry more, had he not been so focused on Arya.

She flicked her gray eyes up and pierced the large man with her gaze.

"You saw me," she finally said, her tone defiant.

"Yeah, Princess, I did."

"You saw me do what, exactly?"

He had the feeling she was testing him, to see if he really knew what he thought he did. It should've irritated him, that she wasn't just forthcoming with people who cared about her; that she wasn't apologizing for upsetting them. It should have made him mad as hell, but instead, he was filled with an overwhelming sadness. He didn't like the feeling. He tried to conjure up something else to put in its place. The best he could come up with was a measure of snide judgement.

"Exactly? Well, I exactly saw you climb onto the back of your skeevy neighbor's bike and jet off to God knows where in the dark of night. And apparently, you weren't exactly back home yet when your brother got up this morning."

They were all quiet for a moment, tense, and then the girl shrugged, pulling free of Gendry's grip. She narrowed her eyes, saying, "And?"

He felt his anger rising once again, but he tamped it down enough to speak without yelling.

"And, would you care to explain?"

Arya glanced over at Jon who had his eyebrows raised as if he, too, were awaiting her answer, then she looked up at Gendry, her face a blank slate. She blinked once, twice, before responding.

"No."

"No?" Gendry echoed, his tone incredulous. "That's it? Just 'no'?"

The girl sighed. "Boys, I appreciate that you were concerned about me, I really do, and I'm sorry you were worried, but I'm not going to spend all morning being interrogated in the driveway about something that first of all, was no big deal, and second of all, is really none of your business."

Her words had Gendry fuming, but her brother broke in before the large man could say something he might regret.

"Arya, you can't run off without a word like that," Jon chastised gently. "And you can't blame us for being upset about it when you do. You really had me freaked out, kiddo."

"Sorry, Dad," she sang with fake-contrition, rising up on her toes to kiss her brother's forehead.

"And I do expect an explanation," he continued, giving her one of his patented stern looks, "but later, after we've eaten breakfast and had a chance to calm down."

The 'calm down' part was obviously meant for Gendry.

The girl nodded and picked up the bag she'd set down on the driveway when she'd seen them drive up. It was the satchel Gendry had given her as a graduation gift last year; expensive, luxe leather, monogrammed, meant to carry the laptop Jon had bought for her.

She slipped the strap over her shoulder and turned to head up the drive and into the house as Jon swatted at her bottom playfully, making her squeal. Gendry watched the scene sourly.

God, he felt like punching something. He hadn't even meant to be here to see her. That was Jon's fault. And Arya's, for worrying her brother enough to start thinking crazy thoughts about his best friend and roust him out of sleep. For his part, Gendry had left this house the night before, determined to sort through all his… feelings… before he met with her again; before confronting her.

Yet, here he was. Orbiting around her again, however unwillingly.

He grimaced.

Pathetic.

Gendry closed his eyes for a moment and saw Arya climbing on the back of Jaqen's bike, remembering the way the red tail light had disappeared down the street in the humid night as he watched. His lip curled and he breathed heavily.

"G, are you coming?" Jon called. He'd started to follow his sister inside, but then turned, waiting for his best friend.

The larger man shook his head. "I don't know, man." He took a step back, then another. "I think I should just go home."

"No, don't be that way."

Gendry shrugged. "It's probably better if it's just family, anyway." He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Jon laughed. "You are family, couyon. Come on."

Despite himself, Gendry smiled a little at the good-natured insult. "You're the couyon here, brother."

The gray-eyed man approached his friend, his regret unmistakably painting his face. "I'm sorry I thought… well, you know what I thought. I was worried when you were both gone, but my mind shouldn't have gone there."

Gendry nodded, saying, "Don't worry about it. If it was my sister, I'd probably have been just as crazy." And just like that, things were right between them again.

"Come on in for breakfast. You know Cat makes a mean Bloody Mary, even if she probably does spit in mine."

Gendry snorted, but still, he hesitated. "I don't know…"

Jon dropped his voice lower. "She's not going to understand if you up and leave." He didn't have to say which she he meant. "Just… come on. We can figure the rest out later."

Gendry looked off into the distance as if considering. "Alright," he acquiesced. "But I want two stalks of celery in my Bloody Mary. And an extra shot of vodka."

"That's the spirit, G!" Jon's mood was instantly elevated. "Let's go get some bacon. We're gonna need our strength for playing good-cop, bad-cop later. Just don't say anything about midnight motorcycle rides around Cat or Sansa, or it's all we'll hear about for the next month. Plus, I'm pretty sure Arya would try to murder you with her butter knife and honestly bro, my money is on her."

"She's always been quick with a weapon," Gendry admitted.

"No doubt."

"Bacon, you said?"

"Half crispy, half soft. You know how we do it here."

"Alright, I guess I can stay," Gendry agreed, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He turned to gaze across the fence at Jaqen's house, narrowing his eyes and trying to see beyond the beveled window panes. The glare of the morning sun off the glass made the attempt fruitless. The large man frowned, then added, "But when the time comes, I get to be the bad cop."

---

It seemed everyone but Jon was oblivious to the fact that Gendry had quit the Stark household in the night and slept in his own bed, so no one inquired as to the why of it.

That was something at least.

Amid the morning bustle and good-natured teasing from her family about Arya spoiling her surprise Welcome Home party by showing up hours earlier than expected, Gendry remained mostly quiet. He'd been seated between Sansa and Bran at the Stark's dining table, directly across from Arya, but her attention was demanded by everyone present, so he was mostly an observer to the proceedings. Her father asked her questions about her studies and her tournaments while her mother requested details of her end-of-semester activities and her fencing coach's plans for their daughter this summer. In the midst of it all, Sansa pressed her sister for details of her love life.

"Whatever happened with that blonde guy you were dating? The one who's related to your friend on the fencing team?"

Arya swallowed. "Nothing happened with him. We went on a couple of dates. There wasn't much else too it."

"That's too bad. When I showed Margaery that picture of you two together, she was so jealous! She thought he was gorgeous!"

"What picture? Where did you see any picture?" the girl asked, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

Yeah, what picture? Gendry wondered.

"The one on Dany's Facebook page."

"Wait… You're friends with Daenerys?"

"Well, yeah, of course," Sansa replied. "You're so hopeless with your social media, the only way we can even keep up with you is to either pester Jon about what you're texting each other or to stalk you through your friends' accounts."

Arya rolled her eyes. "I'll have to be more diligent about untagging myself, I guess," she grumbled.

"Or, you could actually post more than just team photos and cat videos to your Facebook page or Instagram account," her sister suggested.

"I don't like people seeing pictures of me and making assumptions," the girl groused. Then, more to herself, she added, "I'll call Dany after breakfast and ask her to take those pictures down."

"Don't be stupid, Arya," Sansa snorted. "Why would you want to do that? They were great pictures. You actually looked like you were having fun doing something besides stabbing people."

"See? Now you're making assumptions!" Arya declared triumphantly as if Sansa had just proven her entire point. "There's no mystery anymore, and no privacy…"

"Are you going to go off on one of your libertarian rants again?" Sansa snorted derisively.

"She's not wrong, sweetheart," Ned interjected, looking at his eldest daughter. "When I was your age, we didn't have the internet and all this so-called 'social media.' We…"

"…walked uphill in the snow to school, ten miles each way," Sansa laughed, rolling her eyes. "We know, dad. And you had three channels, and cartoons were only on Saturdays, and Abraham Lincoln was the President, and…"

Arya was still stewing about Sansa's words to her and cut in, "And you don't stab people when you fence, by the way."

"Whatever. Anyway, Margaery thought your boyfriend looked like a Calvin Klein model or something."

"I see Margaery is just as stupid as ever," the girl scoffed. "Really, Sansa, you should consider associating with a better class of people. And Aegon wasn't my boyfriend."

"Margaery's class is just fine, Arya," her sister sniffed. "She's a Tyrell, for God's sake, and her brothers…"

"Her brothers are rich idiots, just like her."

Ned laughed indulgently. "Are we holding family wealth against the children now, little wolf?" He gave Arya a pointed look as he used the old family nickname for her. "Because if so, you might want to look in the mirror."

The girl shrugged. "Well, I hope when my friends are talking about me around the breakfast table, they'll find something better to say about me than she's a Stark, for God's sake."

"No, I'd imagine they'd say something like she's neighborly," Gendry muttered, then felt Jon, who was seated next to Arya, nudge him sharply under the table with the toe of his shoe. Gendry grunted.

"Oh, speaking of neighborly," Catelyn interrupted, oblivious to the subtext of the comment, "The Umbers and the Boltons from down the street are coming over later. For your not-so-secret welcome home party."

"The Boltons?" Arya wrinkled her nose. Sansa's look mirrored her own. It was one of the few subjects on which the sisters found common ground.

"Hmph," her sister snorted. "Is Ramsay coming?"

"Well, I don't really know," their mother admitted. "Is it a problem if he does?"

Sansa shrugged. "I guess not. I just don't really care for him, after the way he treated Jeyne when they dated."

Gendry frowned at the redhead's words, realizing she didn't know the half of it. He quickly rearranged his expression, hoping to avoid further discussion on the matter. He flicked his eyes toward Jon's and the two shared a brief look of understanding.

Ramsay Bolton had been a delinquent of the first order, ever since they were young boys. He'd been in their class, enrolled in the same elite Catholic elementary school as Jon and Gendry, wearing the same blue plaid bowtie and white oxford button down as they did every day. Bolton money spent every bit as easily as Stark and Baratheon, it seemed, and it bought Ramsay an inordinate number of second chances. His lack of interest in his studies and his overabundance of interest in drugs and all manner of criminal activity had guaranteed he hadn't finished with their class, however. This was far from a relief for Jon and Gendry, though, as Ramsay's failure to obtain school promotion over multiple years and Arya's intellect catapulting her a year ahead resulted in that Bolton bastard and their own Baby Stark crossing paths in the school hallways when she was a tender freshman and he was a freshman again.

Ramsay, it seemed, had a particular interest in young and innocent girls. He began to pursue her and viewed her lack of interest in him as a challenge. Arya laughed at the reprobate's advances, certain he was only trying to be funny; certain that someone of his age, and with his reputation, was only teasing her when he suggested in increasingly aggressive terms that they 'get together sometime.' Besides, she was more concerned with fencing and video games than romance at that age, but it hadn't deterred the boy at all.

Chance remarks by Ramsay to his equally distasteful friends about what he planned to do with the youngest of the Stark girls once he got her alone had reached Jon and Gendry's ears, resulting in what Jon referred to as a Come-to-Jesus meeting between the three of them. Gendry preferred to call it what it actually was.

An old-fashioned beat down.

Arya was none-the-wiser, Ramsay transferred schools and eventually dropped out altogether, and Jeyne Poole, one of Sansa's oldest friends, had decided she had a thing for bad boys, to her own detriment. They'd all tried to warn her, but she didn't want to hear it. She would regret that decision soon enough, however. Gendry had always suspected Ramsay's treatment of the girl had been a not-so-subtle 'fuck you' to Jon and himself since the girl was peripherally linked to them through Sansa, but Jeyne was not their problem to deal with. As long as Arya was safe, Gendry was satisfied.

He stared at her across the table. She was laughing at Rickon's antics, the youngest Stark bouncing nearly uncontrollably in his seat while Catelyn prattled on about party details. The sound of Arya's amusement made Gendry wistful. He had always loved her laugh.

God, she was so beautiful. More beautiful than before; impossibly so. It was as if she'd grown fully into her looks, somehow, without him ever realizing that they could be improved upon.

Or maybe it was just that he hadn't seen her in so long. Whatever it was, simply to look at her made him ache.

Gendry shook his head slightly as if to dislodge the thought. He studied the angles of her face, more prominent than nine months ago when she'd left New Orleans for her elite college in the mountains of Virginia. He supposed it was all that fencing. And the strict diet her coach insisted on. The same diet she bitched about on occasion, in comments she made under pictures he or Jon posted on Facebook and Instagram showing the friends drinking beers at a sports bar during LSU games or eating po' boys for Sunday lunch at Mother's on Poydras.

"I wish I could have a po' boy!" she'd commented on that one. "I'm stuck here eating a spinach and kale salad with grilled chicken." Beneath the other, she'd typed to them to enjoy their beers while she sipped her water with lemon, clearly hoping to invoke some degree of guilt on their parts. They'd merely laughed as Gendry had typed his reply.

"You're too young to drink beer, anyway, Princess."

Catelyn was still listing families from the Garden District who had RSVP'd to her gathering. Gendry paid it little mind until Arya's mother addressed him directly.

"Your father will be here," the woman said, looking down the table at him, "though I don't believe your stepmother will make it."

Gendry swallowed, but merely nodded, unsure how he should react. It was Catelyn Stark's house. She could invite whomever she chose, and his father was one of Ned Stark's oldest friends. Still, it made him feel uneasy, both that he would have this unexpected interaction with Robert, and that Robert would be interacting with Arya as well.

That was always… uncomfortable to watch.

Gendry wondered right then if he should simply make an excuse and leave immediately after breakfast, but what Catelyn said next erased the notion from his mind completely.

"Oh, and Jaqen will be here as well, Arya. I wasn't sure that he'd be in town, you know how he's always traveling, but it just worked out that he's not due to leave for a few weeks, he said."

Gendry gave the girl a sharp look, studying her reaction to her mother's words. Arya merely blinked and shrugged, giving a noncommittal, "Hmm" in response.

"Oh, Margaery will be glad!" Sansa laughed. "He's the only man she thinks is better looking than that surfer-model guy Arya was dating."

Arya's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, but Gendry caught it, watching her as closely was he was.

"You are absolutely not to let that girl pester him, Sansa," her mother instructed. "She'll just embarrass herself. And him! Really, the idea of a professional man like that being interested in a college girl… What could they possibly have in common?" Catelyn shook her head as if it was too ludicrous a thought to consider further.

"Yes, that is ridiculous," Gendry agreed, suddenly intrigued with the conversation. He watched Arya's face as he spoke. She gave away nothing.

"Oh, really?" Sansa asked, fascinated that he was offering an opinion. "What about someone like yourself, Gendry? You're a recent college graduate, a young working professional… Would you consider dating a college girl?"

Arya shot her sister a dirty look. "Why are you bothering him with stupid questions?"

"Well, that's different, isn't it?" Gendry replied, ignoring Arya's attempt to abort the conversation. "I mean, I could still be in school myself, if I'd decided to pursue a graduate-level degree, or if I'd taken a fifth year to finish. Lots of people do that."

"That's true," the elder Stark daughter agreed, a bit too eagerly. "Say, Gendry, you're not dating anyone now, are you? Because Margaery would be perfect for…"

Gendry blanched and Jon burst out laughing, interrupting Sansa's matchmaking schemes.

"Do we have to have all this dating talk at the table?" Rickon groaned. "It's so gross and I'm trying to eat here."

Ned and Catelyn chuckled fondly at their youngest child and everyone else joined in, though some more sincerely than others.

---

The breakfast table was cleared and Catelyn shooed everyone away so she could begin preparations for the party. The caterers were due to arrive by ten that morning and she didn't want any distractions. This led to Jon and Gendry practically forcing Arya to come back to Gendry's condo, the place the two men had shared until recently (after a year in his new job, Jon had finally moved out on his own, much to Gendry's protests, and rented a tidy shotgun house in Uptown).

"But I really wanted to see your new place, Jon!" the girl protested.

"I left my car at G's, though, so it doesn't really make sense to go to my place today," her brother explained. "Tell you what, we can have lunch after mass tomorrow and I'll take you by after and give you the grand tour. Sound good?"

Gendry was silent during the whole exchange, watching his two friends and wondering how they could be so casual; so normal, as if Arya hadn't just disappeared for five or six hours in the city without explanation. With Jaqen. He had plenty of time to stew about it on his own, because his car was a two-seater, so Arya was forced to drive to his place and Jon elected to ride with her. He said it was because they had so much catching up to do, but Gendry suspected his friend simply didn't want to listen to him rehash everything that had happened as they drove.

Jon still had his key to the place (Gendry had insisted, which was why there had been no impediment to the gray-eyed man when he'd rashly elected to disturb his friend's sleep that morning), but he and his sister waited for Gendry to fish his own out and unlock the door before they trooped into the entryway. After he twisted the key first in one lock, and then the other, he turned the knob and pushed the door open, stepping back and holding his arm out to indicate that his guests should enter. It was all so genteel.

When he was feeling anything but.

Arya glided across the polished wooden floors and entered the living room with its fourteen-foot ceilings and bank of windows practically comprising the entirety of the west wall. She stopped and spun a slow circle.

"I forgot how beautiful this place is," she half-whispered. "Gendry, you really lucked out here." Her hair caught the great swaths of light beaming in through the windows and it almost seemed to glow around her head.

She was like some apparition, sent here to haunt him so that he would have no peace.

"Yeah," the large man agreed gruffly, "and all it cost me was a childhood with a father who gave a shit."

"G," Jon said, his voice a warning as his brow furrowed. Both Jon and Arya were loath to admonish their friend for any of his misgivings about his father, but that didn't mean Jon would allow him to deal with his issues by taking them out on his baby sister.

Arya bit her lip and turned to face her friend. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

"It's not your fault," was Gendry's automatic reply, though his demeanor certainly made it seem as though he was blaming her for something. He dropped his keys on a tasteful antique console table just inside the entryway and moved to join his friends in the living room, settling himself heavily on his plush sofa. "Now, are you gonna tell us what happened last night?"

The girl turned to face him, silent and graceful. Her posture was erect, shoulders back, her face devoid of expression. She appeared thoroughly unbothered. It irked him. Gendry wanted to her feel… nervous. Or, maybe guilty.

Contrite.

He wanted her to be full of regret for what she'd done.

She was none of those things.

"I came home late, wired on caffeine…"

"You weren't supposed to be here until lunchtime," Jon reminded her as he sat in a chair to Gendry's right. "What happened?"

She shook her head dismissively. "I… just felt like driving. I wasn't sleepy, so I didn't see the point in stopping."

"Your mother will have a fit," Jon muttered. "You promised you'd break the trip up. If she'd have known, she probably would've flown up there to drive you down herself."

"I know, and I would've stopped if I was tired at all, but I just wasn't. So, I drove on, and before I knew it, I was back in New Orleans. When I got home, Jaqen just happened to be leaving, so we crossed paths. He was taking his bike out for a ride, and since it was late and everyone was asleep, I didn't feel like creeping into the house and having to stay quiet for hours, waiting for my caffeine to wear off. So, I decided to take a ride with him. It really wasn't any big deal, just a spur of the moment thing."

"Did you at least have a helmet?" Jon pressed. Arya laughed.

"Of course. I'm not an idiot!"

Jon seemed satisfied with that and didn't seem too interested in knowing anything further, which only served to increase his friend's irritation.

"Where did you go?" Gendry asked, sounding like a prosecutor at a murder trial.

The girl cocked her head and looked at him strangely. "Why does this bother you so much?"

"Maybe because I don't like the idea of you hopping on some random guy's motorcycle and taking off for parts unknown, and not so much as a word to anyone about it," he growled back.

"I told you, I didn't want to wake anyone," she tried. "Everyone was asleep!"

"I wasn't."

"How was I supposed to know that?" Gendry didn't answer her, and so she continued. "Besides that, Café du Monde isn't parts unknown," she laughed, "and Jaqen isn't some random guy. I've known him for years. He's…"

"He's what?"

Arya narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing Gendry for a moment. "A friend of the family," she finally replied.

Gendry snorted.

Jon, who had been watching the exchange in silence to that point, spoke up. "G, take it easy."

"Really, Jon? You're okay with this?" Gendry shook his head in disbelief. "I never thought the day would come when I cared more about your sister than you do."

"Hey!" Jon barked.

"You know I'm eighteen, right?" the girl huffed.

"Barely," Gendry spat back, "and you're acting like you're twelve!"

"If all you want to do is lecture me like a little girl who broke curfew, I'll just leave," Arya threatened. She took a step closer to where Gendry was seated and her voice softened a bit. "I was really happy to see you again, G. I thought you'd feel the same."

Well, that was unfair.

Gendry leaned back, throwing his arms out wide, stretching them across the back of the sofa, looking away from his friends. His jaw worked as he considered Arya's words, a feeling of guilt competing with his anger then. He breathed in and sighed, turning his head back to face the girl after a moment.

"I'm sorry, Arya. I didn't mean… I don't want you to think I'm not glad you're home. I just… worry, is all. I don't want you to get hurt, and I don't trust that guy."

She nodded, then smiled a little. She moved to the sofa and sat next to Gendry, leaning over to nudge him with her shoulder.

"I know," she murmured. "You can't help yourself. You're like another brother."

"Yeah," he said, his voice flat. "Just like a brother."

---

Later in the morning, Arya was recounting details of her winter Paris trip to Jon and Gendry when her phone buzzed.

"Text," she mumbled, looking at her screen, "from Sansa." The further she read, the more she frowned.

"What is it?" Jon asked, laughing lightly at his sister's expression, which had become faintly panicked. Before she could answer, there was an insistent tapping at Gendry's door.

"She's here," the girl groaned.

When Gendry opened his door, it was apparent that Arya's groan hadn't been meant for her sister, per se, but for what she'd brought with her: a makeup kit, a hanging garment bag, hot rollers, and Margaery Tyrell.

"Hello, Gendry," Sansa's chestnut-haired friend greeted after Sansa herself had winked up at him and buzzed by to attack her sister with all her innate powers of fashion and feminine grooming. Margaery stepped in and glanced past the tall man holding the door for her. She spotted the others then and hailed them exuberantly. "Hello Jon! Arya!" She waved at them as she called their names. For her part, Arya had leapt up from the couch, taking on what resembled a fighting stance, earning a rebuke from her sister.

"Honestly, Arya," Sansa was saying, "I thought you'd be grateful."

"Hello!" Arya cried, exasperated. "Have you met me?"

Sansa's voice became cajoling. "Come on. This is going to be fun!" Her enthusiasm failed to convince her sister.

"Fun?" The gray-eyed girl nearly choked on the word. She tried valiantly to ignore the way Jon was snickering at them.

"What brings you ladies by?" Gendry inquired, walking Margaery to the living room. He played innocent, but a smirk had formed on his face as he noted the horrified way Arya was staring at her sister.

"Didn't Arya tell you?" Margaery giggled.

"I hardly had time!" the girl protested. "Sansa's text came across at almost exactly the same time you knocked!"

"That was by design," her sister replied smugly. "Did you think I was going to give you a chance to escape?"

"It would've been more sporting of you," Arya grumbled. "Do we really have to play makeover today? Here?"

"Look, Arya, everyone in the neighborhood is coming over to our house this afternoon to welcome you home. The least you can do is show up looking like you didn't just pull an all-nighter in the library," Sansa admonished.

Or an all-nighter in Jaqen H'ghar's bed, Gendry mentally tacked on, his mood instantly soured again as he imagined what just such an endeavor would entail.

The girls didn't notice the change in their host's expression because they were negotiating fashion choices. Sansa unzipped the hanging bag to reveal the sundresses within. "Now, what do you think? Red? White eyelet? Floral?"

"I think what I'm wearing is fine."

Sansa was having none of it. "No way. You're not showing up in frayed jeans and a slouchy t-shirt. Either you can pick, or I can pick for you. In fact, now that I think of it, your input is completely unnecessary." The redhead smiled a mischievous smile at Margaery and then turned to Gendry. "We'll let Gendry pick. You run along and take a shower so I have a clean slate to work with. Gendry, you don't mind if Arya uses one of your bathrooms, do you?"

The large man swallowed and tried not to picture Arya soaping herself in his shower.

He tried not to picture stepping in the shower with her, offering to help her clean the parts that were harder for her to reach.

"Sure," he said a little hoarsely, then cleared his throat. "Better use mine, though. I haven't restocked the bath towels in the other one since Jon moved out. And the water pressure isn't as good in there."

"Why do you think I moved?" Jon chuckled.

Margaery slipped the bag she'd been carrying off her shoulder and handed it to Arya. "Sansa packed the things you'd need in here," she said sweetly. "Your shampoo and fresh undies and such."

Arya rolled her eyes and looked to Jon for help. He merely grinned at her and told her she'd better hop to or she'd make them all late. "I have to run back to my place to change myself," he said. "I don't think your mother will appreciate me showing up in my running clothes." And with that and a quick peck on Arya's cheek, he was gone, whispering, "See you there, sweetheart."

"Go ahead, Arya," Sansa prodded. "We'll keep Gendry entertained while you're gone." Margaery nodded in agreement, a small smile shaping her lips. The younger girl glowered at them both, cast an apologetic look at Gendry for abandoning him to their schemes, and then slunk away, entering her friend's bedroom en route to his bath. She moved in the manner of a condemned prisoner approaching the scaffold.

After that, the large man was forced to engage in an annoying amount of small talk with his unexpected guests, their questions and comments peppered with varying degrees of innuendo. Finally, Margaery asked how he liked his job and how much free time it left for him, and what he liked to do with that free time. Sansa expanded on his answers when he was less forthcoming than she deemed appropriate. For instance, when he said he mostly liked to simply hang out with friends, Sansa was quick to add one of the places he and Jon seemed to hang out most was the gym.

"Oh, I can see that," Margaery purred, eyeing Gendry in an appreciative way. He smiled at her reflexively but as he studied the look on her face, the look in her eyes, he tried to imagine what it would be like to see Arya gazing at him in just such a manner. And then he wondered if that was how she looked at him, her not-some-random-guy-friend-of-the-family-with-the-motorcycle, and his reflexive smile died. Misinterpreting his expression, Margaery's face fell and she told him she hadn't meant to embarrass him.

"You didn't," he replied, offering no further explanation.

Just then, his door opened a crack and Arya stuck her damp head out. "Sansa," she hissed, "why didn't you bring me any clothes?"

"I did! I brought you three sundresses!"

"Well, bring me one now then."

"No, you can't put one on until we have your hair and makeup done. You'll wrinkle it!"

Arya sighed. "What am I supposed to wear in the mean time?"

Sansa opened her mouth to reply, then shut it, a look of consternation on her face. "Crap, I forgot to pack something."

"Yeah, I noticed."

"Well, just keep the towel wrapped around you. I'm sure it's big enough."

"No way!" Arya's eyes found Gendry. "G, can I borrow a t-shirt or something?"

"Sure thing. Just look in the middle drawer of my dresser. But not the top middle drawer, the middle middle drawer. But not the top two shirts, those are sort of threadbare, I really just sleep I them. And don't grab the one on the very bottom, it's my wicking shirt and I want to wear it to the gym tomorrow. You could try the purple game day shirt, if it's clean. I can't remember if I put it in there, though. Or maybe…"

"Jesus Christ!" the girl interrupted. "I'm dripping a puddle on the floor! Can you just come in here and show me the one I'm allowed to touch?"

The one I'm wearing, he responded mentally, then quickly dismissed the thought.

"Sure." He rose from his seat and walked through the bedroom door she'd opened wider for him. He glanced at her, wrapped in his huge, white towel, her shoulders dewy from the shower. He caught a whiff of her honeysuckle shampoo then. It was a scent that was entirely Arya, and it gave him a strange feeling in the very center of his chest.

Forcing his eyes away from her, he walked to his dresser and opened the aforementioned drawer. He dug down in the neatly folded stack of shirts, fishing out a purple tee with gold letters emblazoned across the chest. LSU. It was one that was a little loose on him, so it would be like a dress on her.

"Here," he said quietly, offering it to her. She approached him and took the shirt from his outstretched hands.

"Thanks," she said. She looked up at him, her appreciation apparent in her gray eyes. The scent of honeysuckle was stronger now. He almost blurted out that she smelled nice, but he managed to rein in the impulse.

At least that particular impulse.

"You're welcome," he replied, reaching out with one finger to gently swipe a drop of water from the tip of her nose. He made no move to leave, too busy drinking in the image of her, wrapped in a towel, standing in his bedroom. She smiled, a small, delicate thing, and then turned, walking back toward his bathroom. She entered and closed the door partway, then suddenly stuck her head out again, as if she'd just remembered something important she had to tell him.

"Waters," she called, "be careful out there. I know they seem like they can barely have a coherent thought between them that isn't about lipstick or shoes, but those girls are sneaky-clever. Watch out, or you'll be engaged to Margaery Tyrell before you even realize it. And she's rich, so she'll want a huge diamond."

The large man grinned, cocking his head to the side. "Arya Stark, are you jealous?"

She wrinkled her brow and scoffed, laughing, "You wish!" before shutting the door.

He did.

When he made his way back to the living room, Sansa and Margaery held up the dresses, pressuring him for an opinion. He eyed all three. The floral was fine, but it wasn't Arya. The red was the obvious choice. It was one of Arya's best colors and the dress was drop-dead sexy, like something Marilyn Monroe would wear if she was feeling naughty. But he thought of the girl wrapped in his white towel, drops of water on her shoulders, on her nose, looking up at him and smiling, and something tugged at him deep down.

"The white one," he said with authority.

Margaery looked skeptical. "The white?"

"Oh yeah," he replied. "Definitely."

"But… isn't it a little… demure?" The brunette turned the hanger she was holding around, examining the dress in question with a critical eye.

"Well, it's vintage," Sansa said, "and she tends to gravitate towards classic silhouettes. But the red also has a vintage feel." Both girls looked at Gendry again.

He glanced at the dresses Margaery was holding up and shaking slightly to gain his attention. He laughed and shook his head, his opinion unchanged. "I don't know anything about silhouettes, but I'm telling you, that's the one." He indicated the white dress with a single nod of his head.

Sansa shrugged. "Okay, then. White it is."

Gendry did his best to look busy around the place as Arya came out of his bedroom wearing his shirt. He only allowed himself to briefly pretend Sansa and Margaery weren't there, and instead of doing whatever last night, Arya had actually spent the night with him, and was only now emerging from the bedroom, freshly showered and lounging in his favorite tee.

In his imaginings, she'd picked the shirt because she knew it was his favorite. They'd certainly fight about that, playfully, resulting in her offering to remove it if it would make him happy.

It would make him very happy.

Stop it, he told himself, stalking off to the kitchen. He absently opened the fridge and grabbed a Barq's. Remembering his manners, he called back towards the living room, asking if anyone wanted anything.

"Something with caffeine?" Arya inquired.

"Why?" he shot back. "Are you feeling sleepy?"

Gendry didn't have to see her glare. He felt it. He smiled a little to himself and opened the fridge again, grabbing a Diet Coke and delivering it to the girl who was by then fully at the mercy of her sister and Margaery. Arya was perched on the edge of a corner chair as Sansa plugged in the hair dryer and set about taming her sister's damp locks. Margaery appeared to be deciding which color palette to use for Arya's eyes and lips.

The girl snatched the soft drink from Gendry and frowned at him and he stepped back and grinned down at her, one hand on his hip while the other lifted his root beer to his mouth. He took a slow sip.

"Don't feel obligated to stay and ogle," she growled.

"Hey, this is my place, Princess, and I've only ever seen the end results of these beauty shop sessions. I've never gotten to witness the magic that goes into them. This is good entertainment for me." To make his point, he backed up and settled comfortably in a chair on the other side of the room, giving himself a complete view of the proceedings.

"Sure you don't want some popcorn?" Arya asked bitterly, poking out her tongue at Gendry. He laughed again. It reminded him of when they were younger, and he'd tease her about the squirrel thing.

Oh, she'd gotten so mad at him then!

The memory made him a little wistful. They had so many shared memories; so much history between them.

And all Jaqen has is a motorcycle and some dishonorable intentions, he told himself, refusing to see the bias in his assessment.

"Hold still!" Margaery commanded as she swiped at Arya's face with a powder puff, making the younger girl sneeze.

When Sansa had gotten her sister's hair mostly dry and bound up with perfect rows of hot rollers (all while Arya screeched about her scalp being burned, forcing Sansa to swat at her hands when she'd tried to remove the blasted things), Gendry reached for his phone and held it out in front of his face, opening his camera app and zooming the screen in with his fingertips to frame her perfectly.

"Gendry, if you take that picture, I swear to God, I will shove these rollers down your throat," the gray-eyed girl snarled.

"But you're so adorable," he coaxed, one side of his mouth rising in a teasing smile. "Besides, don't you girls love to post before and after pics on your Instagram and such?"

"I don't post pictures online," she countered as he surreptitiously snapped the photo.

Though he did his best to hide the fact that he'd defied her wishes, he was willing to risk her ire. Because sitting there on his chair, swimming in his t-shirt, bathed in all the light the realtor had swooned over, scowling at him with murder in her eyes, she really did look adorable.

"Fine, then," he sniffed, putting the phone away as if she'd thwarted his plans. "I was just trying to help you out."

"Yeah, you're like a giant Boy Scout," Arya replied sarcastically, causing Gendry to throw up the Boy Scout salute. He and Jon actually had been Boy Scouts when they were younger.

"Maybe I can get my Helping-Hateful-Teens merit badge now," he mused comically, causing Margaery to dissolve in peals of laughter while Sansa snorted.

"I think we're the ones who deserve that badge," the redhead said, nodding toward Margaery. "We're doing the heavy lifting here."

"Y'all can all go straight to Hell," the younger girl pronounced, causing them to laugh even harder.

Arya's insults were soon stifled as Margaery applied the girl's lipstick. After a while, Sansa removed the rollers and combed out Arya's new curls with her fingers, then deftly pulled the sides back into loose braids which joined behind her head in a small knot. She called it a "half updo." After that, she sent Arya back into the Gendry's room to change into the white sundress as she and Margaery eyed the two pairs of shoes they'd brought for her.

"Don't you think the flats?" Margaery was saying. They were red, with open sides and a strap across the ankle. "It will give her a pop of color, and they match the lipstick."

"But she's so short," Sansa reasoned.

"Petite," Gendry corrected absently. Arya hated to be called 'short.'

Sansa ignored him. "She needs the wedges, just for the height." She was indicating a pair of open-toed platform sandals with natural linen straps. They would make Arya at least four inches taller, maybe even closer to five. She turned to Gendry. "What do you think?"

"Look, I was happy to weigh in on the dress, but ladies' shoes are completely out of my wheelhouse." He held up his hands in a sort of surrendering gesture. Sansa rolled her eyes.

"Fine. We'll let Arya pick."

"She'll pick the flats," Margaery replied confidently. "No way she wants to totter around in platforms."

Sansa smirked and glanced at her phone, checking for messages. After a second, she gasped. "The time!"

"What?" her friend said.

"We've got to go or we won't have time to get ready!" Sansa cried, scooping up all their supplies and hurrying to place the discarded dresses back in their hanging bag. "I didn't realize how late it had gotten! Sorry, Gendry, we have to run, but can you make sure she picks a pair of shoes, and make sure she doesn't mess up her hair before she gets there? Oh, and don't let her smudge her lipstick!"

He nearly suggested they leave the lipstick, so Arya could repair any… smudges.

Just in case.

He wisely chose to keep his thoughts to himself.

As Sansa finished gathering their things, Margaery moved to Gendry's side and slipped her hand over his bicep. Giving him a sultry look, she bit her lip in a practiced way and raked her eyes up his torso, meeting his eyes before speaking. "I guess I'll see you at the Stark's house."

"I guess you will," he replied.

"Margaery, come on!" Sansa called, her arms loaded down. She needed her friend to open the door for her.

In a flurry, the two girls were off, scurrying through the door. Aside from two pairs of shoes left on his coffee table, there was no evidence they'd even been there. Five minutes later, he heard Arya's voice calling from his bedroom.

"Sansa!"

Gendry stood and walked to the bedroom, opening the door a crack and calling, "Are you decent?"

"Yeah, I'm decent. Where's Sansa?"

He walked in then. "She left. She and Margaery had to get ready for the party."

"They weren't already done with that?"

He knew what she meant. Sansa and her sorority sisters were always perfectly coiffed, perfectly made up, and perfectly dressed. He shrugged. "They'll probably have costume changes during the party, too, like they're hosting the Academy Awards or something." His joke made Arya snicker. "Anything I can help with?"

"Yeah, this zipper is stuck," she told him, turning around and showing him the problem. The zipper was only closed halfway, leaving the area from just underneath her bra strap to the top of her shoulder blades exposed.

"Here, let me." He walked over and gently lifted her cascading curls over her shoulder to keep from catching her hair in the zipper. He grasped the edges of the opened zipper between the fingers of his left hand then used his right hand to tug down on the zipper tab to release the bunch of fabric caught in it and hampering its progress. It took a few tries. "You really jammed this thing up good."

"Yeah, it's a special talent I have. It's like I repel fashion."

"I wouldn't say that," he murmured as the zipper finally cooperated and moved downward, releasing its aberrant grip on the dress fabric and revealing more of her lower back. Gendry's eyes traced her spine for a moment, imagining what it would be like if Arya stepped away from him then, allowing the dress to fall from her shoulders as she turned to face him. Or if he wrapped one hand over the juncture of her neck and shoulder, moving it outward to sweep the cap sleeve down her arm so that he could trail whisper-soft kisses from just behind her ear to her elbow, unimpeded.

He imagined what it would be like if such an action were welcomed by her; desired, even.

He blinked, blowing out a breath quietly, hoping she wasn't listening too closely.

"Hold on, I'm going to do this slowly so it doesn't end up catching again."

"Okay," Arya replied, her voice light, no indication she detected his internal struggle.

He was able to drag the zipper up without incident, closing the dress and hiding the girl's white skin from his eyes. "There," he said after he'd found the small hook and eye sewn into the zipped top edges of the dress, somehow managing to close it in a single try. Those damn things were so tiny.

Arya spun around. "Thanks, G, you're a lifesaver." She was standing so close…

"I'd say you could pay me back with a kiss, but Sansa left specific instructions that I was not to let you ruin your lipstick."

The girl tittered, as if it was some great joke. Maybe she thought it was. Or maybe she was just working hard to keep the balance between them, all while he was working so hard to demolish it. Gendry reached over and brushed her hair off her shoulder so that it hung down her back once more. He took her hands in his and moved back a step, creating a space between them.

"Let me look at you and see if all the torture they put you through was worth it," he said, releasing her hands then. "Do a spin."

"Do a spin?"

"Yeah, aren't you supposed to spin when you get a makeover?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Oh, come on, don't you watch those makeover shows on TLC or whatever?"

The girl laughed. "No, but apparently you do."

"I plead the fifth. But whatever. Do a spin." He pointed one finger down, twirling it in a circle as if stirring imaginary coffee with it, indicating what it was he expected of her.

"As my lord commands," Arya replied, giving him a mocking curtsy first. She stood tall and straight then, lifting her arms in the manner of a ballerina, then turned a slow, graceful circle. When she stopped, Gendry was silent. She dropped her arms to her sides and began fiddling with the skirt of her dress. "I guess the torture wasn't worth it, huh?" She laughed in her self-deprecating way.

Gendry shook his head and looked up at the ceiling for a second before meeting her eyes. His expression was almost pained as he spoke.

"You're so… beautiful, Arya."

And it wasn't because her hair fell in soft waves down her back, or because her lashes were long and dark, or because her lips were stained a color of red which made him wish he could run his thumb across them before kissing her deeply, smudges be damned. It wasn't because she looked amazing in that white dress or because the way she twirled made him want to take her in his arms and dance with her around the room.

It wasn't because the light through his too-large bedroom windows, the same light he had cursed only hours before, was now shining on her skin in a way that made her look like she had stepped out of a Degas painting.

It was because she was there, standing before him, almost exactly a year after he'd kissed her in her bedroom and she'd told him that she didn't want him, that she couldn't want him, and he'd been so hurt, so lost, and that feeling had stayed with him all this time, and yet seeing her now, like this, here, in his bedroom, it was all just washed away. And he felt full, and whole.

Found.

And he knew the feeling was merely illusion, but he didn't care. At least in that moment, he didn't care.

"Don't tease me, G."

He fished his phone out of his pocket. "Don't move." He snapped her picture quickly, catching her by surprise, her lips half-parted as if to voice an objection that never came. "I want to remember you like this."

Arya bit her lip at his words, looking troubled, and he thought of all the ways that simple gesture, her teeth pinching her lip as her eyebrows drew together with worry, was so different from when Margaery had done it earlier. And he thought of how all the reaction Margaery had meant to invoke with her calculated gesture lay dormant until the moment when Arya unconsciously reverted to her life-long habit and chewed the tender flesh of her bottom lip as she worked through some problem in her head. He held his breath and watched her, all his powers of concentration engaged, trying to etch the memory deep into his brain. She looked up at him then, and opened her mouth as if she meant to speak, and he felt as though his heart pinched sharply inside of him.

He didn't give her time to voice her thoughts. He didn't want to know if she wanted him to delete the photo, and he didn't want to know if she planned to tell him again how they couldn't be together. He just wanted to keep that moment for himself, for a little while longer.

It's not so much, he told himself. It's not too much to ask.

"Come on, Sansa said you had to pick shoes." He spoke hurriedly, and brightly, leading her back into the living room. "She and Margaery couldn't agree which pair was better."

Arya opted to for the wedges, saying it was nice to pretend to be tall every now and again. Gendry nodded in approval and watched as she stepped into the shoes and then tied the linen straps behind her ankle in a bow.

"Wow. These are really high," she marveled. Glancing down at her toes, she added, "Look how far down the ground is now!"

It made Gendry chuckle to see her reaction. She took a few steps. She wasn't wobbly, exactly, just tentative. He offered his arm.

"Need some help, Princess?" When she scowled at him, he had the temerity to wink. "Just for practice, until you get your sea legs."

Arya groaned but she took his arm. Gendry dutifully escorted her around the living room, through the kitchen, into the small dining area, and back around again.

"I feel like I'm at the rehearsal for a debutante presentation," the girl complained.

"What do you know about debutante presentations?" the large man laughed.

"Sansa is my sister, remember? And my mother happens to be Catelyn Tully Stark."

"Ah, yes. I'd nearly forgotten. It's so easy to mistake you for a homeless orphan."

She balled up a fist and used it to punch his arm. "Be nice," she admonished.

"I will if you will," he retorted, rubbing his arm where she'd hit him. He glanced at his watch. "I should change. You can ride with me, if you like. It'll probably be hard to drive in those shoes."

"What about my car?"

"I can bring you back to get it later, after the party. Or, Jon can."

"Alright."

"Okay, so I'm just gonna go get ready. Need anything?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "What, does this place come with concierge service?"

"Only for you, Princess," Gendry laughed, lifting her hand and pressing a gallant kiss to the back of it. He winked at her then. "Only for you."

He left her in a chair playing with her phone and slipped into his bedroom, pulling a white, summer-weight oxford and a pair of khaki linen pants out of his closet and donning them. Next, he found his white bucks and slipped them on. They were a little old fashioned, but that was wholly appropriate when attending a soiree hosted by the Stark family. He peered at himself in his dresser mirror and was reminded that he hadn't shaved.

"Arya," he called through the door, "do I have time to shave, you think?"

"Don't bother!" she yelled back. "I like your scruff. It makes you look a little dangerous."

He opened the door and peered out toward the living room. "Do I want to look dangerous?"

Arya angled in her chair and turned her head so she could see him. She appraised his appearance in his fresh clothes. "Hmm. Well, this is still New Orleans, and in those clothes, with those shoes, you definitely scream 'rich boy.' Could be that your dangerous-appearing scruff is all that stands between us and a carjacking."

"Good point. I'll shave tomorrow."

"Are we ready then?" she asked, rising from her seat.

"I am, but I'll need to see you walk to know if you are." He leaned against his doorframe and watched as Arya made a great show of striding confidently toward the front door in her tall shoes. She made it all the way to the console table without wobbling. "I feel like Henry Higgins!" Gendry declared then. Arya expressed her opinion regarding that statement by displaying a very particular finger. "So uncouth!" he cried with feigned disdain, sighing dramatically. "Back to the drawing board. We'll make a lady of you yet!" He laughed and ducked as she threw his keys at him.

---

When Gendry and Arya arrived back at Stark home, cars had already filled the driveway and were lining the street. They had to park down the block a bit, leading the girl to observe that if they'd parked any further away, they would've been forced to hop a streetcar to get to her house.

He offered his arm, which she took, and together they strolled along the sidewalk, admiring the great oaks which lined the street and the familiar grandeur of the homes they passed.

"I remember this place," Gendry said warmly, nodding toward a large, peach colored Victorian as they walked by. "We trick-or-treated there. Remember that lady who lived there? She always dressed up like Elvira."

"Fake boobs and all," Arya laughed.

"Yeah, I think it was around seventh grade when Jon and I started to appreciate that a lot more."

"I always appreciated her," the girl said. "She handed out full-sized Snickers bars."

"You always wheedled mine out of me, though," he reminded her, "so I never got to enjoy them."

"You shouldn't be such a pushover, Waters."

"You were really hard to resist in your sweet little angel costume," he countered. "It would've felt… sacrilegious."

"That was the last year I let my mom pick my costume."

"Yeah, but you made some pretty questionable choices after that," he chuckled. "The next year I think you had a do-it-yourself job made out of cardboard boxes. Were you a shrub, like the burning bush or something?"

"No, I was a tree! We'd been reading The Giving Tree in class and it inspired me."

"Oh, that's right! I remember now!"

She groaned. "Looking back, I guess it was pretty stupid, dressing up like an oak tree."

"But nice, though. A nice oak tree," he murmured, and she squeezed his arm in appreciation.

They were passing Jaqen's house by then, and he noticed the way Arya glanced towards it, nonchalantly, as if admiring the landscaping. He cleared his throat.

"So… you and Jaqen…"

Arya tensed slightly, then looked up at her friend, and her expression read as someone ready for a fight. "What about me and Jaqen?"

"So, all you really did together last night was eat beignets and wander around the Quarter?"

"Pretty much." Her tone seemed cautious to Gendry.

'Pretty much' seemed to leave an uncomfortable amount of wiggle room in her story, he thought. More than he could live with.

"And after the French Quarter?" he pressed as they walked up her drive.

"He brought me home."

She wasn't meeting his gaze now. It gave Gendry a sinking feeling.

"Your home? Or his?"

Arya stiffened and stopped, forcing him to stop with her. She pulled her arm free of his and said, "What did I say this morning about being interrogated in my driveway?"

"That's not an answer."

"It's all the answer you're going to get right now. We need to go inside. Everyone is waiting."

Arya Stark using the excuse of upholding social graces to avoid answering questions?

This was bad.

"Fine. We'll talk later," Gendry said, but she gave no indication she had agreed to this at all. She merely frowned at him and then walked on, climbing the steps to the porch and pushing through the front door. He stood at the end of the walkway, watching her go, trying not to let his imagination run away with him.

He didn't want to picture her in that man's house in the early hours of the morning. He didn't want to think about what that would mean.

After a few minutes, Gendry pushed his shoulders back, steeled himself, and then followed Arya into the house.

---

Inside the entryway of the Stark home, Gendry immediately ran into Jon, sipping a freshly made Sazerac.

"I wondered if you were coming," Jon said, swirling his glass.

"We aren't that late," the large man protested, "and we had to park way down the street."

"Should've gotten here early. Then you could've parked in the driveway, like me."

"Where'd you get that?" Gendry nodded at his drink. He could do with some whiskey right about now.

"I'll tell you, if you tell me why Arya came flying in here looking upset a few minutes before you did. Were y'all fighting?"

Jon was in protective-brother mode.

"No, not fighting. I just asked her a question she didn't want to answer." Gendry looked over Jon's shoulder then, across the foyer and into the living room, noting Arya standing next to the fireplace, talking to some blonde guy. He squinted and then scowled. "Is that Edric-fucking-Dayne?"

Jon turned to look. "Yeah, looks like it."

"Who invited him?"

"I don't know. Probably Catelyn. Why?"

"Are you just gonna stand there and let him slobber all over your sister?"

"What?" Jon turned to look again, then pulled a face as he looked back at his friend. "He's not slobbering over her. They're friends. You know that. Why do you even care?" There was just a hint of suspicion in his tone as he asked.

"The better question is, why don't you?" Gendry shot back, looking at Jon with raised eyebrows for a moment before walking past him towards Arya. When he arrived at her side, Edric was talking animatedly about their respective FIE rankings, whatever that was.

"It looks like if you place highly in one more tournament, you're in," Edric said. "Gosh, you must be so stoked! I have a little more work to do myself, though. Still, coach thinks I'll qualify."

"It's so crazy," she was agreeing. "I mean, did you ever think, all those years ago when we met at those junior tournaments, that we'd both possibly have a spot on the Olympic team at the same time?"

"I always knew you'd make it," Gendry said softly. "I think I realized it when you were seven, and the kids on the intermediate team were afraid to face you. Hell, you could beat me up with a long twig back then, and I was in middle school and you were, what, a second grader?"

Arya looked up at him, her lips pursed for a moment. Finally, she said, "Edric, you remember Gendry?"

"Yeah, of course. How have you been?" Edric asked politely, holding his hand out. Gendry gave it a firm shake.

"Not too bad. And yourself?"

Arya used that moment to abandon them both, saying she'd better find her mother and make a point of letting her know she'd arrived. Both men watched her disappear around the corner before speaking again.

"It's so good to see her again," Edric remarked, his voice dripping with enough sincerity that it made Gendry's skin crawl. "It's been awhile." He shook his head, his eyes taking on a far-off look. "God, she looks great."

"Yeah, she does," the larger man replied, a note of censure in his voice.

He did not appreciate Edric commenting on Arya's appearance. Especially not with that tone… or that look in his eye.

Edric's eyes seemed to focus then and he smiled at Gendry a little sadly. "Man, what could've been…"

"What does that mean?"

"Oh, nothing. Just… I could marry that girl, you know what I mean?"

"What? No, I don't know what you mean. She just turned eighteen, for God's sake!"

"Oh, I don't mean right now. But just, someday, you know? She's the sort of person I could see marrying someday. Too bad she's not interested." Edric turned to face Gendry fully. "I've known her for a long time. And it's always seemed to me that she was just hung up on someone else."

Gendry raised his eyebrows at the blonde man.

"To tell to the truth," Edric confided, "I always assumed it was you."

"Me?" Gendry's skepticism was clearly trumpeted by his expression. "Why would you think that?"

The fencer shrugged. "She's just always talked about you. In fact, you're pretty much the only guy I've ever heard her talk about. You and her brother. Seems like if she wasn't fencing, she was spending time with you. And she was never much interested in me. Not like that." He sighed and leaned his head in closer to Gendry's. "Not for lack of trying on my part."

Oh, he knew how Edric had tried. Tried and failed, much to his delight.

"Still, it'll be so great if we both make it to the Olympics," he prattled on happily. Gendry got the sense that not much really bothered Edric. "And who knows, maybe if we do, she'll give me another shot."

Don't hold your breath, asshole.

"I think she's too focused on her fencing and school to give much thought to relationships." Gendry tried to make his voice as discouraging as possible.

"Oh, yeah, totally. I was a little concerned when I saw those pictures of her with that Aegon guy, but she told me they were never serious. I think she just went on a couple of dates with him as a favor to Dany. They're cousins, I think."

Was everyone Facebook friends with this Dany girl but him?

"How do you know Dany?"

"We've been crossing paths at tournaments for the last few years. The fencing world is pretty small, actually, at least at the collegiate level and higher."

"Maybe you should ask her out," Gendry suggested, making Edric laugh. The blonde man shook his head.

"Arya said you were protective."

"She did?"

"Yeah. She said you acted like a big brother."

The large man could not quite control his sneer at the pronouncement. "Yeah, I'm not her brother."

"No, I know. But you care about her just as much as if you were. It's obvious."

Well, that part Edric got right, at least.

"So, what do you think about this new guy?" the fencer was saying.

"What?" Gendry had only halfway been paying attention. "What new guy?"

"I dunno. Some new guy. She says they're friends, but she won't really say anything else about him. She was out with him last night. To tell the truth, I was a little worried, because she wasn't answering my texts."

"Yeah, you and me both," Gendry muttered. "What do you know about him?"

"Nothing. I mean, I just saw the picture, and then she told me it was meant as a joke."

"What picture?"

Edric fished his phone out and pulled up his texts. He found a picture in a recent text thread and tapped on it, increasing its size to fill the entire screen. He showed Gendry.

It was a little blurry, and dimly lit, but it was Arya, with her eyes closed, her face partially obstructed by a man's head. He seemed to be kissing her. It looked like a selfie taken from an angle above. There was nothing really to identify the man—his hair looked dark in the nighttime lighting, the whole photo mostly comprised of blacks and grays, but Gendry knew.

It was that fucker Jaqen.

"She sent this to you last night?" he asked Edric. "What time?"

"Um, I don't know. Late. Or, early, really. Around 2:30? Or maybe 3:00."

Gendry scowled, looking around to see if Arya had returned yet. She hadn't.

Edric excused himself shortly afterward, saying he hadn't yet greeted Ned Stark, and he should do so lest his hosts think him rude. Gendry was glad he left so he could find Arya. He walked into the spacious kitchen, swiping a Sazerac from the bar and peered out of a large picture window that looked over the back yard, seeing if he could spy the girl out among the crowd gathered there.

"There you are," a familiar voice purred from behind. Gendry turned to see Margaery standing before him. She had changed into a short, floaty baby doll dress that looked more like lingerie than something that should be worn to a garden party.

"Here I am," he replied, watching her approach. She looked like she was on a catwalk. The girl knew how to move.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," she pouted playfully, sliding her arm through his.

"I only got here a few minutes ago."

"Well, I'm glad you're here now. It was getting dull without you."

He knew what she was doing, that her flirting was part calculation, and part for sport, but after the blows his ego had taken, it felt good believe someone wanted him. And so, he didn't rebuff her, but offered to escort her outside, where there was music playing and some tables set up with butcher's paper lining the length, ready for large vats of crawfish to be dumped out once they were done boiling.

And part of him hoped they'd run across Arya, and she'd see him with Margaery, and maybe she'd see that to some people, he was more than just a near-brother. And maybe she'd understand that he could be more to her as well.

On the back lawn, they moved through the throngs, greeting mutual acquaintances, making polite small talk, finding a seat under the shade of a live oak.

"Well, you certainly cleaned up nicely," Margaery complimented him, and then she ran her fingers across his jaw. "Not here, though."

"I thought about shaving, but…"

"No, I'm glad you didn't. I like it." She narrowed her eyes and licked at her lips a little. "It's a little rough."

Gendry smiled at her, his blue eyes dazzling, and then a movement in the periphery of his vision caught his eye. From his vantage point, he could see down the side of the house, though Margaery could not. He turned his head and saw Arya. She was leaning against the rail of the first story gallery, her back to him. Standing in front of her was Jaqen H'ghar, smiling down at the girl. They were too far away for him to hear their conversation, especially over the music playing, but he could read their body language.

Arya was relaxed, but maybe a little shy. He could tell by the way she wrapped her left arm across her body and gripped at her right arm with the fingers of that hand. Jaqen looked… Well, he wasn't exactly sure what that look was. Indulgence? Infatuation? Lust?

Whatever it was, Gendry didn't like it.

Arya and Jaqen straightened then, as if they heard a voice calling them. After a couple of seconds, it was apparent what it was: the man reached for his phone and stared at the screen for a moment, giving the girl a decidedly apologetic look before answering a call. He seemed to speak only briefly, then hung up, frowning. Jaqen reached out and slipped his palm beneath Arya's elbow, gripping her lightly. Gendry rose at the sight and left his companion without a word, walking toward the pair.

"Gendry, what on Earth… Where are you going?" Margaery called.

He made her no answer, continuing his path at a brisk clip, trying to reach the couple on the gallery. As he strode over, he saw Jaqen lean down and place a kiss on Arya's cheek, then whisper something in her ear. She drew up her shoulders in response, and bowed her head, then she looked up at Jaqen and nodded. He smiled in return and then he was gone. By the time Gendry reached her, he could see Jaqen had made it nearly to his yard next door.

Their houses really were too close to one another. Far too close.

"Arya!" Gendry called a bit desperately. She turned at the sound of her name and then looked at the large man, her expression expectant. He was flummoxed. "I… wanted to see if you needed a drink."

The girl descended the small set of stairs that led from the gallery to the back yard and joined him on the lawn.

"You're fetching drinks for me now?" she laughed, her cheeks pink and her eyes bright. Her mood was far better than it had been the last time he'd seen her.

"I… guess I am."

They strolled side by side back to the table where a visibly impatient Margaery awaited them, Gendry sliding his arm around Arya's shoulders as they walked. The gray-eyed girl didn't say anything, but her eyes seemed to be seeing something far away instead of what was right in front of her.

"Oh, hi, Margaery," Arya said, almost as if she were startled to see Sansa's friend at the table as she dropped into one of the chairs there. Margaery smiled back at her, but the gesture seemed forced to Gendry, and then she excused herself, saying she should see if she could find Sansa. Arya shrugged and after Margaery was gone, she reached over and gripped Gendry's Sazerac glass, lifting it to her mouth and taking a sip.

"Easy there, Princess," Gendry laughed, taking the glass back. "You have a one-sip limit, especially if you're going to be operating those heels all afternoon."

"Technically, they aren't heels," the girl told him. "They're wedges."

"Oh, my little Eliza Doolittle has finally come into her own!" he teased.

She rolled her eyes, but laughed, and the sound of it made Gendry's heart swell. He looked at her, her eyes almost sparkling in the May afternoon sunlight, and she leaned back in her chair, turning her head to gaze out over the lawn, looking at the guests milling about; at the food; at her younger brothers tossing a football, arguing about which of them was more like Drew Brees. She smiled and turned her eyes back to Gendry.

"I missed this place," she confided softly. "It's good to be back." She turned and glanced over towards Jaqen's house, her gaze lingering on the second-floor gallery, and whispered, "Really good."

And he watched her, and pretended that it was him that had brought the flush to her cheek and the wistful tone to her voice. When she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and gently chewed, he pretended it was him she thought of as she did it.

He smiled at her, and pretended, and thought, It's not so much. It's not too much to ask. Just awhile longer.

---

From Afar—Vance Joy