Fair warning that this shouldn't be taken too seriously. It's cracky and the result of writing at 2 a.m.
Big Pretenders
"Come on, wench!" he whined, not for the first time.
Brienne whirled around, so energetically she almost knocked the oil lamp beside the bed over. "If you're that bored with me, if you want her back, then just say so! But don't pretend it would be just for fun to roleplay," her voice lost in vigor and volume, "when we both know you just want to imagine her in my stead." She evaded his eyes, morosely staring out of the night-black window of their rented room.
Jaime waited for a few loaded seconds before he answered.
"Who said that I want you to play her?"
She snorted in response, but at least she looked back at him. "So you want to imagine yourself as your twin while pretending that I'm you? Your narcissism knows no bounds."
Somehow this seemed funny to him. A widening grin stretched his face as he stalked past her to the bed and let himself fall backwards onto the straw mattress.
"You're not playing me either," he thrilled from his new and comfy position.
Brienne's brow crinkled in thought. "And pray tell me, who are we impersonating in this sexual fantasy of yours?"
One beat, two beats of silence.
"Cersei and Renly."
Staring at him as if he had grown a second head, or lost the one he at least objectively had, she sputtered, "In what world would Cersei and Renly ever be together?"
"In a fucked up one?" he shrugged.
She unceremoniously plopped down on the bed and forced Jaime to scoot over in the process, or she would have flattened his knee with her ass. Not that he would have minded that much. But a knee in the ass couldn't be that comfortable. And at the moment he was all about making Brienne feel good, not the opposite.
"So, my dear wench, what do you say? Me as the queen of darkness, you as the king of cocks?"
If he hadn't seen the back of her head wiggle the tiniest bit in contemplation while she stared at the spotty wall of their room, he would have thought her frozen in shock.
The next head dip of hers was accompanied by a twist, so that she faced him again.
"To find closure? Like some kind of therapy?" she asked mildly intrigued.
Therapy, that was the word the newest maester of King's Landing – Sam…well? good? better? best? whatthefuck Tarly – threw around when talking about overcoming the drama and horrors of the past. Jaime was quite sure he hadn't meant something like this. But he wasn't going to argue with his wife's logic.
"Sure, exactly like that." It probably said a lot about his mental state that he hadn't even thought about the possibility.
His ever antagonistic, at least when it came to his ideas, wife just had to throw another spanner in the works of his brilliant plan. "You are aware that Renly was not…inclined like your little vision demands. And I can't emulate a male when it comes to the mechanics of such a union, right?"
Laying his body flat out on the sheets, one arm alluringly stretched over his head, Jaime whispered, his voice gliding into falsetto, "We're two creative minds. I'm sure we can find a way."