A/N: This fic was born of several different sources of inspiration and my wanting to write for a genre I've always loved but can't give away because it'll ruin the surprise! I've written lots of Robbaery before but I wanted to try something a bit different this time so I experimented with a different narration and way of telling the story. I really hope you all like it and look forward to writing more!

"You're going to be late for work if you don't stop kissing me, Robb Stark," Margaery declared, her laughter coming out muffled as she buried her face into my neck. It was in that moment that I decided I was most definitely going to be late for work.

"All right," I told her matter-of-factly when my lips weren't pressed to her shoulder, "What shall I blame? My motorbike acting up? The terrible traffic? Or the sweet smell of your perfume?"

Margaery pulled back to lie down on the bed, her long chestnut hair fanned around her, and I noticed a blush creeping up her cheeks. "What have I done to you?" she teased, reaching for me, "I don't want you to look bad in front of your father and Mr. Baratheon, sweetheart…as much as I would love to have you all to myself for another hour." She began to run her hand along my beard as she often liked to, and I responded by leaning in to kiss her lips this time. "Or two…" she murmured, barely pulling away from me. I took her bottom lip gently between my teeth, and she giggled again. "Or three. Or four."

"Aye, I know you're right," I acknowledged, "But it is very difficult to leave knowing you'll still be here for a while yet."

I had learnt not long after meeting her that Margaery was in fact almost always right, and even when she wasn't then she still managed to come very close. It was true that it wouldn't look good if I arrived late at Baratheon Lannister because I had spent too much time at my girlfriend's, and my father and boss would be equally unimpressed if I arrived on time but wearing the same (albeit far more creased) suit as I had the day before. Come to think of it, Mr. Baratheon might actually be fine with the latter, but my father would probably scowl while his best friend informed him that it was the 80s and he needed to be understanding of modern relationships. My relationship with Margaery, however, wasn't something I would ever want to classify by any of Robert Baratheon's standards.

"I'll make it up to you," Margaery promised, pulling me out of my thoughts, "I'll pack an overnight bag to take to work and when we're done we can go to your place." Her smile lit up her face, making her somehow look even more beautiful. "We'll have plenty of time to do lots of things then," she added, "Perhaps we can test out your new armchair."

"I find it incredibly sweet that you care so much about my standing at the bank that you're willing to make such enticing promises to encourage me not to be late," I told her truthfully, finding myself grinning as well, "I'd love that. And you did help me pick out the armchair, so it seems only right that you break it in with me."

"Well, those promises will hardly be sacrifices for me, I hope you're aware," Margaery teased, and I couldn't help but lean in to kiss her again. Both of us lingered a little while longer this time as our lips parted and her tongue found mine. She gave a soft sigh against my mouth when we eventually broke apart, and in my head I returned once more to my decision to be late. A promise was a promise, though, and Margaery's was far too good to pass up.

"I suppose I had better get dressed," I acknowledged, pressing my lips to hers quickly once more before I moved to finally get out of bed. Her gaze as I stood up was enough to make heat rise in my cheeks and I found myself shaking my head slightly. Memories from the night before came to mind as I began to pick up my clothes, scattered around the bedroom of Margaery's apartment in a path that quite clearly led from the doorway to the bed. "Sweetheart, what was it that you wanted to speak to me about last night?" I remembered, "I'm sorry we ended up getting a bit distracted."

"You don't need to be sorry. Especially not for that kind of distraction," Margaery insisted, though I noticed her face fall after she had directed a smile at me. "I think we had best save what I wanted to talk to you about tonight, though," she continued, "It's not something I would want to rush."

"All right," I said, pulling on my boxer briefs and arching an eyebrow, "Should I be worried?"

"No," Margaery replied slowly, "At least, I hope not."

"Now you've got me a little worried," I admitted, "But if I don't get going now I really won't have time to have a shower and change my clothes at home."

"You know what? I'm going to empty out a drawer for you," Margaery declared, her expression brightening, "Then you can keep a couple of your suits here for when you need them."

"Thank you, sweetheart. That would be great," I said, "Although, you know, there's an even easier solution. We already spend most every night together…perhaps we could start doing it in an apartment we both live in."

I regretted the words almost as soon as they left as my mouth and I saw the look on Margaery's face. She and I had never actually discussed moving in together but we spent so much time with each other that I figured she had to at least not mind having me around, and it felt to me as though the natural next step in our relationship. Upon my suggestion, however, her smile had vanished and she seemed to not want to meet my gaze.

"I'm sorry," I backtracked quickly, "If you're not ready then I totally understand. We can…"

"No, it isn't that. I would love to move in with you. I can think of few things I would love more," Margaery admitted, yet strangely I didn't feel relieved, "I only…for that to happen I think I need to be completely honest with you, Robb, and I haven't been."

"What are you talking about?" I asked her, feeling my brow furrow in confusion. I racked my brain, trying to think of what Margaery could possibly have hidden from me, but I was having trouble dealing with the notion at all. In the months we'd been together I had told her many things that I had never told anyone else and I had always felt as though she confided in me just as much. It was only when I caught sight of tears glistening in the corners of her eyes that it truly seemed to sink in that something was very, very wrong.

The woman I had grown to care so much for, that I felt I was falling for, remained silent as she slipped out of the covers and reached for one of the silk robes she kept hung up near the bed. She tied it at the waist, her eyes still not meeting mine, then disappeared into her walk-in closet while I could do was stare from my position by the door. My girlfriend apparently wanted to move in with me as much as I wanted to move in with her, so I felt as though I ought to be happy, but her strange reaction had thrown me for a loop. Though I already had my trousers on by then I suddenly felt somewhat exposed, even though Margaery and I had spent whole days before in each other's company with little to no clothes on.

It didn't take her long to return to her bedroom with a somber expression and her arms laden. My first instinct was to reach for her, before I even saw what was in her hands, and I was glad that she looked slightly relieved when I touched her shoulder. Though I had no idea what she was about to reveal to me, I wanted her to know that I was prepared to listen regardless.

"I'm sorry. I think perhaps you might be late after all, Robb," Margaery said softly, taking a seat on her bed and placing down what she had been carrying.

I looked between the items and her, my mouth dry and certain my expression was still one of utter confusion. Words were temporarily lost on me. What do you say when your girlfriend presents you with a stack of papers from the company where you both work and a gun?

A/N: Thank you for reading! Comments are always very much appreciated :)