Author's Note: Yes, I have returned for Gendrya Week for the first time since 2015. I know, it's a miracle. I know, I still have to finish TAOI. I know. I know. Please, take what is clearly going to be a long fic as an apology, and enjoy the insanity that is my brand new Gendrya AU in which Arya needs a date for Sansa's wedding like, yesterday, and Gendry just so happens to be there.
There's something about being the youngest daughter in the Stark family that just pisses Arya off on a daily basis. She doesn't know if it's just because she's the youngest daughter, or if it's because she's Catelyn Stark's youngest daughter, but there's just something that irks her to no end.
Truth be told, it's probably neither. It's not about being Catelyn Stark's youngest daughter — it's about being Sansa Stark's younger sister.
Sansa, who is young and vibrant and beautiful. Sansa, who is stronger than most people ever thought, who proved them all wrong. Sansa, who seems to want to make it her life's mission to show the world that she has found the balance between being a perfect lady and knowing how to open her mouth when it suits her — the kind of balance that Arya sorely lacks.
Sansa, who is currently crying over her wedding dress.
Again.
It's the fourth time this week. And the saddest part is, is that it's only Tuesday.
It's not that there's anything wrong with the dress. In fact, it's gorgeous. It's not what Arya would have pictured her sister to get married in at all. After all, the dress she'd always imagined was the one Sansa talked about all the time back when she was still with Joffrey. She'd wanted everything to be huge back then, the dress most of all. A poofy skirt, a long train, a lace veil that rested upon a tiara.
And while that vision did still fit Sansa's style to some degree, this dress is somehow more…her. It's floor length, with tight sleeves made of sheer lace that go to her wrists, but the skirt is surprisingly not poofy at all, and the bodice is covered with tiny diamonds. And instead of the cathedral train she'd gushed about for years, the Watteau train looks much nicer. Her veil is still lace, and it's still carried by a tiara, but the simplicity of the dress itself softens the entire look, makes Sansa look angelically warm instead of coldly regal. No, nothing is wrong with the dress at all.
It's just that Sansa is so happy about the fact that she's actually getting married that every time she sees the dress hanging on the door of her wardrobe, she just starts…crying.
It's getting rather tedious.
Catelyn, who is as used to this as Arya, turns to her younger daughter.
She opens her mouth, and Arya already knows the question that's about to be sent her way. It's the question that has been thrown around so many times for the past four months that Arya visibly stiffens every single time her mother looks at her.
"So, Arya, have you found a date for the wedding yet?"
It's conveniently the one question that manages to shut Sansa up, but even as Sansa's quiet sniffles stop abruptly and her attention turns towards her sister, Arya knows that's not why Catelyn asked her about a date — again. It's because the wedding is in three weeks and Arya has not made a single move to find a date for her sister's wedding since her breakup with Edric Dayne four months ago.
"Haven't you heard, Mom?" Arya asks with raised eyebrows. "I've pledged myself to the Catholic Church. Surprise. I've decided to become a nun."
"Arya, we aren't even Catholic."
"What's the difference, really?"
She's trying to goad her mother, trying to turn her attention away from The Question. But Catelyn's become used to Arya's many aversion tactics, and not just when it comes to The Question. She has, after all, raised her for the past twenty-three years.
"Arya, please. Take this seriously. You don't want to be the only one of your siblings without someone with you at the wedding."
"Believe it or not," Arya starts, "I really could care less."
"Well, then, do it for your sister!"
"I think I did more for Sansa than anyone was expecting when I agreed to the dress she picked out for me as her maid of honor without much of a fight."
"You threw a fit in the dressing room and ran out of the store still wearing the shoes from the display!" Sansa reminds her, eyes wide in indignation.
Arya furrows her brow at her in confusion. "Did I not just say I agreed without much of a fight?"
Catelyn's eyes close and she takes a breath through her nose, but Arya knows she's not really mad at her. Not yet, at least. There's still three more weeks for her to change Arya's mind, and until then, even Catelyn can find the humor in her daughter's empty jokes. She never says it or shows it, but Arya always manages to catch the flash of laughter in her eyes before she shuts it all down.
"Okay, Arya," Catelyn begins, and she's using her Mom Voice, which only makes Arya bristle.
Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she's run out of time to make jokes about her relationship status.
"I'm well aware that your breakup with Edric Dayne was hard — Arya, stop laughing — but it was four months ago, and it will be terribly embarrassing if you're the only sibling from both the bride and the groom without a date."
That was true, at least: Robb would obviously be going with his wife Jeyne, while Jon would be with Ygritte (who had promised Sansa that she'd leave her engagement ring at home for the night so no one who wasn't yet aware of her engagement to Jon would ask too many questions and take the spotlight away from the bride), and Bran would be with Meera. Even Rickon had managed to ask his girlfriend to the wedding, though he despised the word and regularly denied it even as everyone pointed out he'd dated only her for the past two months. And Willas's siblings both had dates, as well. Loras would be proudly attending with Renly, and while Arya had already forgotten the name of Margaery's date, she didn't doubt he was as handsome as she was beautiful.
"I can always say the breakup with Edric hit me harder than I expected. We did go out for a year, after all. I'm allowed to mourn a relationship."
"Think of the pictures."
"I'm short; I can hide in the back. And with the size of the wedding party, I doubt anyone will be looking at my dateless self."
"Think of the looks you'll get."
"When have I ever cared about what other people thought? Besides, if they're busy looking at me being single on my sister's wedding day, then I think Sansa needs to work on being prettier."
"Think of all the people who will not so subtly pity you and pretend it's concern."
Arya opens her mouth, but then she closes it when she realizes she doesn't have anything to say.
"Think of how they'll ask if you're okay now that you're the only one not in a relationship."
Her eyebrows stitch together, and she crosses her arms stubbornly.
Finally, Sansa looks up from where she's thumbing one of the diamonds on the dress's bodice and puts in her own opinion. "Think of all the people who will try to set you up with their grandsons and their great-nephews."
Arya closes her eyes and she takes a deep breath.
"Remind me again how long do I have to find a date?"
( O O O )
"It's not fair!" Arya explodes as she storms into his apartment without knocking.
Gendry looks up from his phone and raises his eyebrows, but he doesn't say anything.
Arya is standing by the door, her hand still clenched tightly around the doorknob, the key he'd given her — for emergencies, only, Gendry recalled ruefully — gripped in her other hand. She has a specific kind of expression on her face, pinched and exhausted, a hint of impatience decorating her face as she waits for him to speak.
He knows that she's waiting for him to ask what happened this time, but he only sits back against his couch and leisurely crosses one ankle over his knee, taking his time as he sets his phone down carefully next to him and sighs dramatically.
They're locked in a staring contest, and right when Arya opens her mouth to speak, he cuts her off. "What would you have done if I wasn't in the living room?" he asks. Arya's mouth closes and she slumps against the door. "Or better yet, what would you have done if I wasn't even home? You would have just been yelling at the air."
Arya closes the door and pockets her key, crossing her arms and cocking one eyebrow at him as she waits impatiently.
Gendry rolls his eyes and stands up, heading to his kitchen so he can take out exactly what she's waiting for: The Chinese food takeout that she's positive is sitting in his fridge from last night. Every Monday night, Gendry ordered more Chinese food then he could ever eat in a single night and stayed up late working on whatever Ned needed him to do for the hotel, and every Tuesday, Arya would show up at his apartment to complain, or to watch movies, or hang out, but it was mostly just to take the extra Chinese food he always kept for her.
It was why she knew he would be home, why she knew he would be sitting on his couch and not in the second bedroom of his apartment that he'd managed to convert into something of a workspace. She knows him too well.
There's no space for a table in his apartment, but he's lucky enough to have a kitchen island with enough space for him to put three barstools on each side.
Arya claims the one in the middle on the side that faces the kitchen, while Gendry sits across from her, dumping five takeout containers in front of her, along with a plastic spoon, fork, and knife.
"So," he finally says. "How was your day?"
He gets a glare in return. Typical.
"I have to get a date for Sansa's wedding," she mumbles as she stabs a shrimp dumpling and takes a bite.
This wasn't news. Arya had spent the past four months complaining about this, almost as often as her mother tried pressuring her to get a date. Gendry shrugs, quickly stealing one of the dumplings and swallowing it before she can stab at him with the fork for taking her food.
"This has been going on for too long, Arya," he says. "I'm bored of hearing about it already. You've fought with Catelyn about this for too long — we both know you're going to end up disobeying her and showing up alone anyway, so what's the point in complaining."
Arya fidgets uncomfortably in her stool, swinging herself from side to side.
"Because," she starts, opening another container of fried rice, "my mother actually made a very good point earlier today. If I show up alone, and everyone else in the wedding party has a date, all anyone will do is pity me and be purposefully awful at covering it up, and then they'll try and set me up with someone."
Gendry cocked his head. "I would have thought you don't care what other people think," he mused, more to himself than to her. "Is this about Edric? Do you feel like you're not ready for people to pity you or…set you up with someone?"
Arya glares up at him, and furiously takes a bite of fried rice.
She chokes it up and spits it out into a napkin a second later.
"Ew!" She throws her fork down and moves to get a cup of water. "Is there pork in that? You know how much I hate pork! I can't stand it." She gives him an accusing look, but Gendry only stares back at her innocently.
When she has her water and she's sitting down again, this time with a container of plain white rice that she's taken the liberty of drizzling duck sauce all over, she sighs mournfully.
"It's not Edric," Arya answers eventually. "It's just the pity in general. I can't stand the attention. I don't want it. We dated for a year, big deal. It's not like we ever thought we were going somewhere serious."
"Arya, people don't just casually date each other exclusively for a year without thinking it's going somewhere."
"Okay, so we never talked about it!" she says. "The fact that we went an entire year without discussing it must have spelled 'disaster' to a few people! No one thought we were going to last."
"Everyone thought you were going to last." Gendry included. "No one knew that you guys hadn't discussed this stuff, so everyone assumed you had because that's what people in lengthy relationships do."
Arya twirls the fork with a piece of General Tso's chicken on it. "It's no one's business. The fact of the matter is, is that we broke up, and now if I don't have a date for Sansa's wedding, I have to deal with everyone thinking I'm not over it yet, and they'll spend the entire night either pitying me, or trying to convince me to give their nephew a chance." She shudders.
"Are you over it?" Gendry asks suddenly.
Arya looks up in surprise. "Of course I'm over it," she says, and it's the naked expression of shock at his question that tells him she's being honest with him. There's no carefully arranged mask on her face, just the surprise that she felt because she already assumed he'd know she was over her breakup with Edric.
"Well, that's good," Gendry says, nodding his head. "But I get why you're annoyed. Those people invited to the wedding…they don't exactly have everybody's best interests at heart. Even when they're telling you how you look great considering the circumstances, they're whispering to their friends how you've clearly been drowning yourself in chocolate after you split. Which," Gendry added quickly as Arya opened her mouth, "we both know isn't true. In fact, I've never seen someone get over a breakup as fast as you."
Arya smiled gratefully at him. This right here was why they were such good friends. He just got it. He understood how fake everyone was at these events. Even though she knew very well that these people had to be invited to the wedding so everyone could continue playing nice, it still bothered her.
Once again, she'd be the butt of a joke. She could have dropped fifteen pounds and shown up to the wedding looking even more beautiful than Sansa herself, but as long as she didn't have a man on her arm, they'd all purse their lips sympathetically at her and tell her how well she looked, ask her repeatedly how she was holding up. It wouldn't matter if Arya yelled that she was happy she was no longer in a relationship. No one would believe her. In fact, they wouldn't even deign to listen to her.
The look on her face must have exposed her thoughts because Gendry frowned.
"Hey," he said, poking at her wrist with his index finger, "you'll be okay. If you can't find a date, then I promise I won't go with a date either. We can go alone…together." She didn't allow him the time to figure out if that sentence made any sense; she was already asking a question.
"Do you have a date?" Arya asked curiously.
Gendry shrugged. "No. I was just saying, you know, in case I don't have a date by the time the wedding comes."
"It's not fair," she repeated angrily. "I only have three weeks to find someone. How inconsiderate."
Gendry raised his eyebrows incredulously. "Haven't your mother and Sansa been bothering you about this for the past four months?" he asked.
Arya scoffed and waved him away with an uncaring hand. "Whose side are you even on, Gendry?" she asked as she hopped off her stool to throw out the empty Chinese takeout containers.
( O O O )
Arya only lasts twenty minutes staring at her Facebook friends list before she shuts her laptop in frustration. Sansa had set up the profile for her and sent her the login information three years ago, her friend list already filled with the rest of the Stark family as well as some close family friends.
After Sansa discovered she'd deleted the profile, she'd simply created another one and didn't tell Arya about it. Arya found out three months later when her cousin asked her why she hadn't accepted his friend request yet at a family dinner.
Now she kept it because she didn't see the point of deleting it when she knew Sansa would always just make a new one. She thought it would be helpful to go through her list of friends to see if she could ask one of her male friends to be her date for the night, but it was a small list.
Arya liked to keep her online presence as private as possible, and that meant she was very careful when it came to choosing who was allowed on her list. She was picky when it came to interacting with people in person — it only made sense that she would be even more stingy when it came to what people saw of her online.
But now, she was wishing she was more like Sansa, who had a wide circle of friends both male and female. Friends who, if Sansa were in this exact situation (though Arya knew that would never happen), would rush to her side, tux on and bow tie perfectly straight, ready to walk her down the aisle.
There was a knock on her door, and Arya looked up from the closed lid of her laptop to see Jon sliding into her room.
"Still looking for a date?" he asked, sitting down on the edge of her bed.
Arya wrinkled her nose. "It's stupid," she grumbled.
Jon laughed. "Come on. It's just one night. And who knows? Maybe you'll even end up liking whoever it is that you take."
"That's not it," Arya said frustratedly. "There's no one for me to take."
It was almost embarrassing to admit. She was twenty-three, young, pretty, intelligent. It made no sense that it should be this hard to find a date for this stupid wedding. But then she thought of Sansa's pleading eyes, and Arya sighed. For her, she'd do it.
"What if I talked to Ygritte? Maybe she could set you up with someone?"
Arya laughed out loud, rolling onto her back and staring up at the ceiling. "Yeah, right. Mom would rather I go alone than bring along one of her friends. She'd probably have a heart attack."
Jon grinned at her in agreement, but he fell silent, and Arya knew that meant he was out of ideas. It made her uncomfortable. Was the only solution he could possibly think of really to ask his fiance's friend to take his little sister to the wedding just because she couldn't find anyone else? It was insulting at best and downright hurtful at worst.
She must have been quiet for too long because she felt Jon's hand settle on her knee comfortingly. Arya shifted it away from his grasp before he could say anything.
"Arya," he began anyway, "come on. This is for Sansa. Sansa. The sister you used to hate, but love more than anyone now. The girl who's been dreaming of her wedding since she was three years old. The girl who's finally getting everything she deserves." His hands clench almost imperceptibly, and Arya knows exactly what he's thinking.
Joffrey.
Just the name inside her head is enough to make Arya feel a wave of anger. Years, Sansa had been with him, and no one had been able to see the warning signs until it was too late. He'd always been a little shit, but whenever he was with Sansa, he made sure to treat her like a queen. At least, when they were in public together.
It was still painful to remember the image of Sansa, twenty years old, standing on the doorstep of the Stark household in a turtleneck and sweatpants, duffel bag in hand and a bruise covering the right side of her face.
Both Robb and Jon had to hold Ned back from storming out the door and killing him with his bare hands.
When Sansa had come downstairs the next morning in a tank top that exposed the finger-shaped bruises against her throat, no one stopped Robb and Jon when they left, and no one said anything when they arrived home later that night with torn knuckles.
And now, five years later, Arya couldn't even see that young and frightened girl anymore. There were still traces of her, like when Sansa would get so quiet all of a sudden that everyone would simply stop talking so they wouldn't overwhelm her. Or times when Arya would knock on the door to her apartment and Sansa would take just a few minutes too long to answer and open the door with red-rimmed eyes. But Willas had changed that. He'd helped her become stronger.
Arya closed her eyes. "I know," she whispered hoarsely. "I know. It's stupid to take this so seriously. It's one little date. One little date to make her day perfect."
Jon smiled softly at her. "All she needs is this one last thing for everything to fall perfectly into place," he said coaxingly.
Arya squeezed her eyes tightly and nodded determinedly as she sat back up. "Okay," she sighed. "Okay. I really have to find a date."
Jon patted her leg and squeezed her shoulder. "Let me know if you change your mind about talking to Ygritte. She wouldn't mind, really."
Arya snorted. "I'm sure her friends would."
"Nah," Jon disagreed as he stood up, stretching his arms. "None of them would. They think you're funny. They'd get a kick out of spending the wedding with you all night." And with that, he walked out of the room, shutting her door behind him.
It was the wrong thing to say, really. Sometimes, despite how close Arya and Jon were, he really needed to learn how to shut up. She didn't want someone who'd get a kick out of spending the wedding with her because they thought she was funny. Even if the date she expected to find was only going to be around for a single night, she would have preferred if they actually liked her.
And with that thought, Arya knows what she has to do. It's her last resort, the final thing on her list of options.
And she really doesn't want to do it.
But…Sansa.
Sighing heavily, Arya picks up her phone and opens her texts.
( O O O )
Arya had only had three boyfriends in her entire life before Edric came along, and they were all just sort of…there. No one incredibly important, no one she would look back upon wistfully. Even Edric had always been there, their lives always crossing at strange moments
There was Jackson Goldbloom, who asked Arya to Homecoming in freshman year. He gifted her with her first kiss that night, hard and close-lipped. It was more of a mash of two lips that didn't quite match up, but neither of them could really be to blame because they were only fourteen, and it was both of their first kisses. After Homecoming, he just kind of assumed they were boyfriend and girlfriend and clung to Arya and her fourteen-year-old self. He left a pink rose on her desk every morning before homeroom and somehow always managed to show up outside the cafeteria to walk with her to the math class they shared, even though his class during her lunch period was English on the fourth floor and the cafeteria was in the basement. She never knew how he made it outside the doors on time every day, but she never cared enough to ask. It lasted one month and ended because Arya was really starting to get creeped out by him. The rest of the year, he sat behind her in math instead of next to her. She never turned around, not even once.
Then came Michael Fitzgerald, in her junior year. He asked her to prom, and she was startled into saying yes because really, she never thought Michael had noticed her before. He was on the football team, and while he wasn't the star quarterback or anything, she would have thought he would ask one of the cheerleaders instead of the girl on the dance team. But he was cute enough, and her friends really wanted her to come with them to prom, and she said yes so she wouldn't have to be the only one in her group without a date. Looking back on that now, the irony isn't lost on Arya. They dated for the remainder of her junior year, but it was casual, and he was a senior who was going to Boston for college, so Arya kissed him goodbye at his graduation and never saw him again. He was sweet, she remembers that, but the most memorable thing about their relationship was that he was the first boy who got to see her take her shirt off, and she didn't even take off her bra.
And then came Daniel Spector, her dancing partner in Intro to Ballet her freshman year of college. She remembers that he had beautiful green eyes and strong hands and that his wrists never shook or trembled when he lifted her. She remembers that he was the first boy she introduced to her parents, and she remembers twelve-year-old Rickon not-so-subtly coughing "Gay" into his soda when she mentioned they met in dance class. Luckily, Daniel had ignored it, recognizing the immaturity for the childish antics that they were, and two months later when they had sex for the first time, Arya discovered that Rickon was very wrong and that Daniel was very straight. But another two months passed and Daniel landed the leading male role in the touring company of Sleeping Beauty, so the two split. Sad to see the person she shared a few of her firsts with, but Arya managed to shrug it off.
And then when she was barely twenty-two, and barely out of college, she ran into Edric at an engagement party for a shared family friend. Pleasantries were exchanged, hugs were shared, and he offered to buy her a drink. It led to an invitation to dinner, and who was she to say no to an attractive man who showed interest in her? Their dinner led to him taking her out to lunch the following Sunday, and before she knew it, she was bringing him lunch at work every Thursday. It was a slow slide into an exclusive relationship that she hadn't expected, but she welcomed it. Edric was handsome, classically and traditionally handsome in a way she didn't expect to like, but his personality was charming enough that she realized it suddenly became something she liked, at least on one specific person. Her mother was overjoyed, especially when they passed the six-month mark, but despite the months that bled into each other, they never seemed serious. To everyone else, it looked like a serious relationship, but to the two of them, they hardly noticed. In the end, that's why they decided to break up. It was probably the calmest and most amicable breakup Arya had ever had, and the breakups she'd experienced in her life weren't exactly devastating.
They were never indifferent towards each other, just…wrong for each other, as a couple. As friends, the two of them worked great, but as partners, they never seemed to fit right. And they never noticed because they got along great, and when they would sleep together, it was always nice, so it seemed like they were doing everything right.
And then…one day, somehow at the exact same time, they both woke up and looked at each other, and realized…Oh. For more than an entire year, they'd been in a relationship that had only stood still. It hadn't moved one inch past their first dinner together. And when they realized that neither of them deserved that…stillness, it was easy to call it quits.
But now, Arya was desperate. And if she and Edric were still friends like she assumed they were, then this one favor shouldn't be hard for him to agree to.
( O O O )
Edric Dayne was twenty-five, handsome, and the person everyone assumed Arya would marry. He was polite, but he could be fun when he was with the people he felt most comfortable with, and he was always reliable.
That reliability was only reaffirmed when he answered Arya's text within five minutes.
Arya: Can you meet me at the Starbucks on W 5th at 7?
Edric: Sure thing.
Just sure thing. Always to the point, never adding on any extra unnecessary messages like 'I'll be in this seat' or 'I'll see you then!' He never saw the point, which was good because Arya never saw the point in it, either.
He didn't text anything like Gendry, who somehow always managed to send her a wall of text when she just said she would be letting herself into his apartment on Monday because she needed to borrow his cheese grater.
And he was always on time. Arya parked her car a block away from Starbucks, and when she got there at 7:01, he was already standing right outside the door.
She smiled a warm smile at him when he noticed her, and it didn't feel awkward at all when he pulled her into a hug.
They settled into a table a few minutes later, Edric holding a cup of black coffee, Arya already using her straw to scoop off the whipped cream from her white chocolate mocha frappuccino. She rarely spent money on frivolous things, but when it came to sugary beverages, she was definitely willing to throw the $4.95 across the counter.
"So, how is everything going with you?" Edric asked as he sipped his coffee despite the steam still curling up from the cup. "What's up?"
Arya licked the whipped cream from the straw and took a sip of the drink. "I need a favor," she said.
Edric's eyes flashed nervously, but Arya was already speaking again. "Don't look nervous — I don't want to get back together if that's what you're worried about!" Edric began to speak, but Arya cut him off again. "I just need you to be my date for Sansa's wedding. It's in three weeks, and my mom and Sansa are down my throat every single day for me to get a date so I'm not the only one alone, and — wow, that sounded pathetic." She slumped back against her chair and took a much longer sip of her drink this time, practically slamming it back on the table when she let it go. "I just meant that, well, you know, everyone else in the party has dates and I'm the only one who doesn't have one. And I refuse to be pitied because I'm single again, or be set up with someone's great-grandson or whatever—"
"Arya, I'm seeing someone."
Arya stopped short, her eyebrows raising. She opened her mouth, tried to think of something to say, closed her mouth, and then opened it again. When she still found herself to be at a loss for words, she simply snatched her drink from the table and sipped.
And continued sipping.
For a long time.
"Arya, how are you still breathing — you've been drinking for like a minute and a half now."
Arya glanced back up — when had she even glanced down? — and blinked rapidly a few times. She reluctantly let go of her drink and set it back on the table. It was halfway done now. She really had been sipping at it for a long time.
"Right," she said. "Of course you're dating someone. I'm happy for you. I really, really am." She means it, she does, she swears she means it, but…shit.
Edric clearly doesn't believe her, his expression naked and comforting, so he reaches his hand across the table, palm up, and Arya glances between his open hand and his open face, and tries to resist the urge to smack him.
"Please, Edric," she starts off, "you are still my friend, and I still have a great deal of respect for you, so don't insult me by thinking my reaction is anything more than me realizing how entirely screwed I am because now I have to go to my own sister's wedding alone."
He pulls his hand back.
Wise move.
"I didn't mean to insult you," he says, and she knows he means it. "It's just…if it were anyone else asking me, you know I would go in a heartbeat. But my girlfriend, well…we're still so new. We've only been going out for a month, and she knows the last relationship I was in was over a year long. And no matter how many times I try to explain how…weird our relationship was—"
"It doesn't make sense," she finished for him, and he nods at her eagerly, grateful that she understands. "Yeah, no one seems to get it except for us, huh?"
"It was a pretty weird relationship," he repeats.
She understands. Edric is a great guy, a great catch. He's noble and handsome, and he's always polite to everybody's parents even when they're sawing at a piece of their meat in an unnecessarily threatening manner (Arya's father had eventually warmed up to Edric, though). If she had just met him, and their relationship was barely a month old, she would also do what she could to keep her hold on him.
But Arya knows what she knows, and what she knows is that they don't fit right. They're like two corner pieces of the puzzle. They belong to the same picture, but they don't belong right next to each other.
He deserves to find his matching puzzle piece.
And she refuses to let her wedding anxiety get in the way of that.
For the next hour and a half, they go back and forth trading little bits of life they've experienced in the past four months, but she sees that Edric keeps a careful eye on her the rest of the time.
He buys her another frappuccino when she finishes her first one, this time a salted caramel, and he asks the barista for extra whipped cream, which she adores.
By the time she finishes the second frappuccino, he moves to stand up, and Arya glances up, wondering if he's going to leave, but he only goes back to the counter.
When he returns, he has another black coffee for himself, and he's nudged a small vanilla bean frappuccino her way.
She feels like she could cry.
It's not the girlfriend thing. She really is happy for him. Even Arya's thoughts seem repetitive to her at this point, but she wants him to be happy. It's just that the comments from her mother and Sansa, coupled together with the fact that Edric is now officially over her and dating someone else, have finally gotten to her.
She drinks this final frappuccino slowly, not just because it's a small and she wants to make the taste last, but because she wants to make this last. This encounter with Edric that she knows will most likely be their last one.
After this, she'll go home and be unable to sleep tonight because, really, why did Edric let her have three frappuccinos — he was supposed to be the responsible one here. And so she'll lay in her bed and think of how everyone was in a relationship, except for her.
Normally that wouldn't bother her. But something about the wedding, knowing that it was coming closer and closer, made Arya feel so small.
And she didn't like it. Not one bit.
( O O O )
By the time Arya gets home, it's almost ten. Robb is sitting on the couch, which surprises her, but she goes to sit next to him, curling her legs up underneath her. Automatically, as of it was on instinct, he wraps an arm around her loosely.
"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be home with your wife?" she asks with one eyebrow raised.
Robb shrugs. "I was helping Sansa make sure my tux fit…again. She swore this would be the last time until two days before the actual wedding when everyone has their final fitting, but I know I'm going to wear that stupid tux more than anything else for the next three weeks."
"Hmm," Arya hums to herself, thumbing at the scarf wrapped loosely around her neck.
"Jesus, Arya, I can smell the sugar on you," Robb says, leaning back to get a better look at her. "Where were you tonight?"
She shrugs. "I was at Starbucks. I met up with Edric tonight."
Robb doesn't say anything except "Oh. How is he?"
Except, he doesn't say it in a way. He just says it…normally. Like she said she hung out with Gendry, or she got her nails done. Of all her siblings, Robb took her breakup with Edric the exact way she wanted them all to take it. He somehow understood that the two of them just didn't work, that they had been stuck in this routine, but it wasn't like the routine Robb had with Jeyne or the kind Sansa had with Willas. It wasn't a bad routine, but it wasn't a good routine, either, and he got it.
"He's seeing someone, actually. Has been for the past month. He showed me a picture of her. She's cute. A redhead. Taller than him, too, but she's always wearing heels. He thinks it's adorable."
Robb laughs and pushes himself off the couch. "Did he tell you that after he said he couldn't be your date to the wedding?"
Arya gives him one of her looks and he laughs again, reaching down to mess up her hair. She swats his hand away, her nails scratching at him sharply. "Hey, watch your lion claws," he says. "If I have scratch marks, Sansa will kill you."
Arya rolls her eyes. "Oh, relax. You deserved it. You have no idea how hard it's going to be to find a date for this wedding in three weeks."
"I'm sure you'll figure something out. Somehow, you always manage."
Arya smiled happily at the statement and stood up to give her a brother a hug as he headed for the front door. "Tell Jeyne I say hello."
"I will. I'm pretty sure Dad's asleep, he had a busy day at the office, so be quiet when you go upstairs."
She closes the door behind Robb and locks it, sighing as she unwinds her scarf from her neck and drapes it on the coat rack next to the door.
Arya knows she should probably go to sleep, but she feels so awake thanks to all the sugar. It only takes a moment of consideration before she heads to the kitchen, taking out a bottle of white wine from the wine cooler and pouring herself a small glass.
One glass of her favorite white wine was always enough to make her fall asleep easily when she felt like she was hours away from going to sleep.
By the time she made it up to her room, it was half-past ten, and she changed into her warm pajamas, happily curling herself into her blankets.
Just as she's about to shut off her bedside lamp and close her eyes, her phone buzzes from the nightstand. Arya reaches behind her blindly until her fingers close around her phone and drag it over to her.
Gendry: Found your date yet?
Arya rolled her eyes. Gendry would expect her to find a date just one day after complaining to him about how hard it was going to be.
Arya: Not yet. It appears I'm all out of options. I'm officially screwed.
Gendry: Hey if worse comes to worse I'll be your date.
Arya's fingers pause on her keypad, staring at the screen. All of a sudden, she feels like she's sixteen again, hoping that Gendry would notice how her blue bikini makes her skin look tanner in the summer. She blushes as she pushes thoughts of her schoolgirl crush to the back of her mind and rolls her eyes.
Years ago — that was years ago, she tells herself. Back when Gendry had only been friends with Robb and Jon. Back when he was fresh out of college, still struggling to find a job and a way out of his shitty studio apartment before Ned rescued him with a job at the hotel he owned. It took three more years, but eventually, he had managed to save enough money to get himself a two bedroom apartment.
By then, Arya and Gendry had developed a tentative friendship that only grew, and she had convinced herself to put her old crush behind her.
She had left him waiting for a response for too long. She didn't want him thinking he said something weird, or something that made her uncomfortable. Her fingers quickly flew across the keypad, hitting send before she could stop herself.
Arya: What, are you gonna be my boyfriend, too?
Gendry: Why not? It'll help you get out of this stupid situation.
Her breath stopped. She wasn't breathing.
Was she still breathing?
Arya wasn't 100% sure she was breathing.
Arya: Stop joking.
Gendry: No, I'm being serious. You said you've thought of every option. You even went to Edric to ask him to go with you, but the thought of going with your best friend is too outrageous?
Her best friend. Yes, that's exactly what he was, the same way she was his best friend. Arya had to keep reminding herself that that's what they would always be.
Best friends best friends best friends best friends—
Her phone buzzed.
Gendry: Should I take your silence as a sign that you're considering this? Or is it too weird?
Arya held her breath for longer than necessary, and slowly let it out through clenched teeth.
Arya: We'll talk tomorrow.
( O O O )
"So let me get this straight," Arya said, swiveling in circles on Gendry's bar stool. "You think that if we say we're going to be each other's dates for the wedding, it'll look too pathetic. So your plan is to…actually date?" She hesitated at the final words, feeling them stick to her throat. It hurt to even get them out. She didn't know what was happening — all she could do was keep spinning in her bar stool so she wouldn't have to look at him.
"Well, no. We could…pretend to date. Just until after the wedding business is over. And then it'll be back to normal."
What the fuck was normal? This conversation wasn't even close to normal!
Arya sighed dramatically and stopped spinning in circles only to start rotating in the opposite way. "So we just…announce to the world that we're suddenly a couple? And then we go to the wedding together? And then…we just break up, like, the day after? Don't you think it'll be a bit obvious that it's all a lie after we break up the very day after?"
"It won't be suspicious, trust me. Obviously, I'll tell everyone I caught you having sex with Loras in the supply closet," Gendry deadpanned.
Arya stopped spinning long enough to shoot him her famous death glare.
"I don't know if you've noticed, but Loras is gay as fuck," she pointed out. "It'll be more believable if we say I caught you having sex with Loras in the supply closet."
She can't believe she's actually thinking of possible situations in which they might believably break up the morning right after she attends her sister's wedding.
"Please," Gendry scoffed. "No one would believe I'd have sex with Loras in the supply closet."
"Oh, yeah?" Arya asked as she resumed her spinning. "Why, because you're so obviously heterosexual?"
"No, because there's no possible way two guys can comfortably have sex in a supply closet. The majority of us aren't flexible that way. You, on the other hand, have years of dancing experience—"
"Okay!" Arya shouts, much louder than necessary. "No one is being caught having sex in the supply closet!"
Gendry's suspiciously silent for a few seconds longer than usual.
"…Handjob?" he asks.
"I'm leaving."
She jumps off her stool, but all the spinning makes her dizzy and she sways slightly to the left. Gendry quickly catches her, laughing at her.
"Relax, I'm only kidding," he says. She doesn't stop frowning at him so he sighs and leans against the counter. "I was thinking we'd wait, like, a…a week or two to, you know…'break up.'" He uses air quotes when he says 'break up', and Arya raises her eyebrows.
"You've really thought about this?" she asks.
"Well, yeah," Gendry says it like it's no big deal. Like it's completely normal to be talking to your best friend about fake dating them so no one has to be alone at anyone's wedding. "You seemed pretty upset the other day when we were talking about it, more so than usual. I don't want you to be upset on your sister's wedding day."
"I know," she says. "It's Sansa's day; I shouldn't be making it about me."
Gendry scoffs. "No, idiot. Because I don't want you to be upset in general."
Arya pauses, and they look at each other for way too long to be considered normal. She tilts her head up just so, and their eyes really meet, and her lips part slightly. He's always had the nicest eyes, but she's never found the nerve to say anything. And now, talking about dating each other, talking about weddings…God, it would be so perfect to say something right now…
He blinks, and then Arya comes back to herself, and then the moment is gone.
"And you think making me date you for the next month isn't upsetting?" she jokes.
And maybe it's because she was just so focused on his eyes a second ago, so wrapped up in whatever eye contact they'd had, but she thinks she sees something akin to hurt flash across those blue, blue eyes. She's about to open her mouth, apologize, tell him she's being an asshole for no reason and he has every right to be mad at her, but then he shrugs and everything is suddenly normal again.
"Okay," Arya says quickly, trying to shrug off the awkward moment. "I…I guess I have a date for Sansa's wedding."
( O O O )
"Okay, okay, okay," Arya said, biting the bottom of her pencil as she stared at the blank page in front of her. Gendry was sitting next to her on her bed, looking at her intensely. "I think the first rule should be that, no matter what, if one of us wants to back out, it's over. No questions, no hard feelings."
Gendry nods at her, and Arya writes it carefully on the paper. Later, when they figure out all the rules of…whatever this is that they're trying to do, Arya will copy it again in pen neatly so she and Gendry can sign their makeshift contract.
"What if it's, like, the morning of the wedding, and everyone is dressed, and I just decide to say I'm done with all of it, what about—"
Arya turns a glare on him. "Gendry," she says, "are you planning on backing out the morning of the wedding?" she asks.
"No," he replies instantly.
"Then it doesn't matter." But she still writes it on the paper. Just in case, she tells herself.
"Oh, I have one," he says after a few more minutes of silence. "What if one of us gets another date?"
The thought makes Arya stop chewing on her pencil, and she looks back up at him. The idea of him taking someone else to this wedding already makes her feel sick. Maybe she should put rule number one into effect already and back out. She doesn't know if she can handle this, she can't handle this, she can't—
"I think if that should happen, for either of us, I mean, we have the right to break the agreement, then. But we have to talk about it with each other first. Like, you would have to give me a quick heads up, but I wouldn't…I wouldn't stand in your way or anything."
Arya keeps quiet throughout this whole speech, and once Gendry's silent for a few seconds more, she adds it to the paper.
"You can't make fun of me," she says suddenly. "I hate it, and if you start making fun of me in front of people, I'll probably forget and punch you or something. That's not very girlfriend-y."
"I'm sure that's what you're like as a girlfriend," he mumbles under his breath, but Arya hears anyway and punches him in the arm. "Ow!"
"Sorry," she says, completely not sorry, and shrugs.
Gendry continues rubbing his arm. "Okay, anything specific I can't make fun of you for? Because you've got to give me something here. No one is going to believe it if we just…don't tease each other anymore because we're supposed to be making out in your bed like teenagers."
Arya tries not to blush at that statement. She tries very hard.
She fails.
"I think," she says slowly, "we should each get three things that we can't make fun of. Like, for instance, you can't make fun of my height. At all. I will kick you in the shin."
"Fine." He sighs dramatically, like this is a big sacrifice for him, and rolls his eyes. "I don't want you making fun of my job for your dad. If you start up, everyone will just start throwing marriage comments around. And I don't need any of that."
"Of course you don't," Arya agrees sarcastically. "You can't say that my voice gets all squeaky when I'm annoyed. Which it totally doesn't, but anyway, you can't make fun of it."
"Okay. It's not like anyone will even know what I'm talking about, since you're always annoyed, so you've always got your squeaky voice on."
Another punch to the arm.
"Stop that!"
Another shrug.
"Oh, I know my second one. You can't talk about my dating life pre-you. It's off the table." Arya knows the reason for this. Gendry didn't have a real love life. It was more like…random flings that lasted a week or two, three weeks at most. He was always busy with school, with work, with trying to get enough money together, that relationships had always come second. And she knows that Robb and Jon remember those girls that passed through his front door all the time. If she brought it up, they'd immediately get protective over their baby sister.
"That's an obvious one," she agrees instantly. "Now, my last one." Arya tapped her chin with the pen absentmindedly as she thought it over.
"Hey, what do you think your brothers would say if I brought up you, the supply closet, and your years of dance experience — Jesus, Arya, stop punching me!"
"There will be no talk of flexibility in the presence of any Stark family member. Actually, add every Tyrell family member to that list. You know what, don't mention flexibility at all for the next month, okay?"
Gendry's laughing even as he rubs his arm again, and he shakes his head fondly at her. "See," he says, pointing an accusing finger at her. "Squeaky voice."
It goes on like this for the next hour, the two of them bickering over what should be on the contract, what isn't important, what's so stupidly basic that anyone with common sense should already know and is therefore unnecessary to add. But finally, Arya manages to neatly copy it onto a fresh sheet of paper, her handwriting pristine and elegant.
"So," Arya declares as she signs her name at the bottom of the contract. She finishes off the final k with a flourish, a swooping curve that loops once and underlines the preceding letters of her name. "We're in agreement."
Gendry nervously takes the pen from her and signs his own name, a shaky and unsure signature that differs so incredibly from hers. "We are. I look forward to fake dating you until this wedding business is through."
Arya grins at him, and she feels a twinge of pride at seeing him gulp at the flash of her teeth. "That's what you think."
( O O O )
1.) Gendry and Arya will tell each other if they want to back out or break off the agreement.
1a.) It doesn't matter when this happens — it could be the morning of the wedding — if either party wants out, the agreement is over and no hard feelings will be had.
2.) If a prospective date for either Gendry or Arya appears before the wedding, they can break the agreement.
2a.) They can't ask them to the wedding without talking to the other person first.
2b.) Once again, no hard feelings will be had.
3.) Gendry will have to refrain from mocking Arya for the following topics:
3a.) Her height.
3b.) How her voice gets squeaky when she gets annoyed.
3c.) NO JOKES ABOUT FLEXIBILITY DO YOU WANT EVERY STARK IN EXISTENCE TO KILL YOU GENDRY?
4.) Arya will have to tone down her sarcasm towards Gendry in public about the following topics:
4a.) His job for her father.
4b.) His dating life before her.
4c.) Their "sex life".
5.) Kissing is allowed.
5a.) Only close-lipped and has to be pre-discussed in some form or another.
5b.) If hands move below hips, the offending party risks the chance of losing their hand.
6.) There will be no public dates, only discussions of dates that supposedly took place the night before (These have to be pre-discussed so stories match up).
7.) Unless either Gendry or Arya breaks the agreement beforehand, this arrangement is automatically terminated a week and a half after the wedding.
8.) The reason for breaking up is that two friends as close as they are simply shouldn't date just because they're bored.
9.) Neither Gendry nor Arya is allowed to tell the truth to anyone under any circumstances, even after the contract is terminated.
9a.) Yes, Gendry, not even Hot Pie can know, do you want everyone to find out?
9b.) Yes, Arya, not even Sansa can know, do you want her to have a heart attack before her wedding?
10.) Gendry and Arya will always be honest with each other with how they feel about the agreement.
Author's Note: So, a lot of people always ask why I pair Sansa up with Willas, and the answer is actually pretty simple: I just don't ship her with anyone else, to be honest. And, reading the books, her almost-marriage to Willas was probably the closest she came to a truly happy marriage where her husband would have treated her with kindness and care. It's really as simple as that.
Anyway, stay tuned for the rest of the fic! Reviews are always welcome and highly encouraged!