Paint my eyes in shades of blue

by Lady Bee

Jon could swear that she was like a Modigliani's paint, except for the fact that she had eyes; beautiful and bright eyes to match her soul, he guessed. Arya was all about impressions, uncertain sensations, sinuous silhouette, and a beauty that couldn't really be understood, only felt.

It scared the hell out of him to hear someone knocking at his door at such an hour. It was three in the morning, for fucks sake and he had been soundly asleep for a while now. Jon got up from his bed with a sour mood and a sleepy face. Anyone with a bit of decency would have called first and the only thing he could think about was that it better be something important to worth his time in bed.

He opened the door slightly to have a good view of the unwanted visitor. The skinny thing was wearing a worn out blue hoody and jeans. Judging by the looks it could be some delinquent, or someone who didn't want to be recognized. It took a few seconds for him to notice that whoever it might be it was definitely familiar, but he couldn't identify immediately. Only when the person raised the chin he realized who it was.

A wave of panic took him all of a sudden when he saw the split lip and the blood running down her hand. Jon opened the door without a single question, letting the awkward girl enter his apartment. Without ceremony, she walked in as if she had done that a thousand times before, as if she owned the place. Truth be told she had visited him twice in a life time, but still…That was a thought for another time.

"What the hell..?" Jon asked breathlessly and sleepy. Things were getting quite strange for such a late hour, but she clearly needed help. "Never mind. Just…make yourself comfortable while I get something to clean up these cuts."

"I'm sorry. I…"She tried to formulate some coherent sentence, but she was clearly distressed. "Your place was closer." That was all the excuse and Jon ignored it solemnly.

There would be time for explanations and lectures, but first she needed a first aid kit and some tea to sooth the nerves. Everything else could wait. Jon stormed his way thru the bathroom, searching everywhere for some antiseptic, bandages, gauze and cotton. His hands were shaking and things were all a bit blurry. Perhaps he should have called the police, or do something responsible like calling her mother. Arya would be beyond mad at him, but what else he could do to help?

Maybe Robb was a better option, or maybe he should simply clean her cuts and give her a place to sleep before deciding what to do, but one thing was obvious. Arya was in trouble and now she was his problem to solve in the following hours.

When he came back to the hall, she had removed the hoody revealing a considerable amount of bruises all over her arms. If that was a fight, sure like hell it hadn't been a fair one. He sat her on the couch, ignoring her protests and trying to get a better look on the cut in her hand.

"Spit it out. What happened to you?" He asked and nothing in her tone sounded friendly or comprehensible. He was concerned at least, and mad at her for getting into such an obvious trouble.

"It was nothing, really." She said trying to pull him away without success. Jon grabbed her wrist, making her cry out in pain. Well…That was far from being nothing. "Damn! You know…If we are doing it the rough way, you better fetch me a bottle of whiskey to help."

"The only thing you'll drink here is tea. You smell like a mini bar, for fuck sake!" Jon groaned at her while making a face. Well, she wasn't pleased by his denial, but remained silent and waited for Jon to clean the cut in her hand. "What happened, anyway?" He asked, deciding to ignore her silence.

"I was in a pub downtown. Got a few drinks while minding my own business. Sansa came around with that little shit she calls a boyfriend. Lucky me and lucky her that I was there. Joffrey got pissed over something she said and smacked her face, it wasn't the first time, nor the worst he has done so far. He got a bloody nose for that, but his dog came in his defense. Clegane tried to hit me with a bottle and my hand got on the way."

"Where's Sansa now?" His voice sounded truly concerned, although he had never been a great fan of Sansa Stark.

"Home, I hope. I got her on a taxi before coming here." She said while throwing her head back. Arya sighted and tried to ignore the pain of the antiseptic being applied over the wound.

"You should have gone with her." Jon added trying to avoid her face.

"I didn't want to." That spoke volumes about her true motive to be in his apartment at such an hour. He owned her nothing, they were friends at most, but he understood. He had been in that place before and it wasn't a good one, but Arya's self-destructive nature made it a much more delicate situation.

"I'll have to call your mother or Robb at some point. You know that, don't you?" Jon asked just before covering her hand with clean bandages.

"I wish you wouldn't, but fine. Do what you want." Jon noticed the discreet tone of melancholy. If only she would let him in he could try to help her or be a friend to her in such a difficult time, but Arya was never like that. She wanted to do things for herself, but never really understood that sometimes you can't make it on your own.

"Have you tried to talk about what happened?" He asked politely, almost cautious to not set her temper on fire. Her face soured immediately.

"That's none of your business." Was her answer. Jon sighted. He was too young to have to deal with a stubborn and traumatized girl, one that was his best friend's sister at that.

"Since you woke me up at three in the morning after engaging on a fight to save your sister…Yes, that's my business and if you haven't noticed yet, I'm worried about how you've been handling all this shit." He answered just as brutally. Arya looked at him, suddenly startled by his imposing tone. Jon was usually safe, caring, gentle… That kind of tone was something she would expect from Robb and even uncle Benjen, but she wasn't sure about what she wanted from Jon.

Her hand was clean and covered at that point, allowing Jon to look at the cut on her inferior lip. He grabbed her by the jaw, making Arya look straightly at him. She could say by the way he touched her that Jon was mad at her attitude and truly concerned. Arya though that sweet of him and that was exactly what he was. Jon had always been a sweet guy.

His face was a long one, with a strong jaw line covered with an irregular beard. Judging by his wild dark hair, Jon had been sleeping careless and shirtless for a while when she decided to pop up. He wasn't pleased with the situation and he had no obligation to take her in and care for her wounds as he was doing. She was happy that he did, though.

He touched her inferior lip carefully. That was kind of sensuous somehow, even though she looked like someone who just came out of the Fight Club. Jon applied some kind of paste on her cut that made it a bit numb, a topic anesthetic she guessed.

"That's an ugly one." He said in a more controlled and caring tone making her smile lightly.

"It's fine. It's not like as if I was a great beauty to be ruined by something like that." Her voice had that sarcastic hint. It was something like her trade mark he would say. Bruises and sarcasm. He kind of liked her way of acting so careless about nearly everything. He kind of liked her even when she was getting into trouble.

"I think you pretty." It was almost as if he was sharing a secret with her, she noticed. Jon never said things like that. In fact he hardly shared his thoughts with anyone. He was too shy for that, she guessed, but judging by the way his face got red Arya realized that his compliment had slipped thru his lips by accident.

"What Robb would say if he heard you telling me this?" She mused, making Jon clearly distressed with the idea. He gave a step back and waved his hands lightly as if he was trying to apologize to her for being improper somehow. Again, Jon had always been a sweet guy. "Easy tiger. It's not as if I would tell him or anything. Thank you, Jon."

"What for?" He asked once he calmed down. He grabbed her jaw once more to take a better look at the cut and make sure it was properly treated, trying to avoid her eyes.

"The only one who ever called me pretty was my father." Her voice was suddenly sad.

That made sense, he thought. Jon had noticed long ago that Arya had always been Ned's favorite child. While Sansa had always been the gentle, exquisite and accomplished young lady, Arya had her own way of charming people around her by her wits instead of her looks. A bit tomboyish, with a great sense of humor and a talent to make the most unusual friends. Ned rarely laughed, but Arya had always managed to make him do so.

It broke his heart a bit, to hear her voice barring such a painful tone. It had been what? Four years, maybe five, but Jon wasn't sure about it. She was child back then and probably lived under the shadow of Sansa's beauty for quite a long time without anyone to reassure her.

"Well…It's true." His voice sounded more objective this time since Jon was trying hard not to feel uncomfortable by sharing his most intimate thoughts. "You are pretty. I mean…You are a beautiful girl."

He raised his eyes to look at her and realized that for the first time in almost eight years it was the first time he saw Arya crying. He shouldn't care that much about a troublesome girl like her, but he did anyway. Jon touched her face in an effort of offering her some kindness. He stroked her cheek lightly for a while. He truly wished to say that it would go away eventually…That feeling, that whole in the chest. I wouldn't, but with time she would learn to deal with it.

Eventually Arya realized how vulnerable she looked and she didn't like feeling the damsel in distress. She pulled Jon away and tried to wipe away her tears.

"Don't be stupid." She said trying to sound furious, without much effort. Another trade mark of Arya Stark, he noticed. She liked calling things and others stupid, especially when she was feeling threatened or vulnerable.

"It's ok, you know?" He said ignoring her efforts to pull him away. "This feelings, I mean. One day you'll learn to deal with it without killing yourself in the process, but I can't help to worry about you."

"How can you know? I'm not you, and you have no idea of how it was, so stop trying to help me with my feelings because no one can." She spat every word at him while trying to keep her feeling under control.

Jon held her face between his hands as an archeology would hold a valuable and incredibly frail piece of an ancient mystery. Pretty girls with broken hearts seemed to be his soft spot after all. He smiled at her. Not with pity, mockery, or any kind of judgment by her words or her attempt to be strong. If anything, he smiled at her with an intimate feeling of recognition and sympathy.

"Except that I do." His voice was almost a whisper. His thumbs whipped the insistent tears under her eyes. "C'mon. Let's find you something to wear before crushing on my sofa."

Arya took a deep breath as soon as he imposed some decent distance between their bodies. How long have they known each other? She couldn't remember it clearly. He was Robb's friend and he had always been there, in some corner of her house, teaching Rickon how to play a game, or helping Bran with the physiotherapy. Jon had always been there…Like another sibling, like some sort of guardian angel.

She followed him into his bedroom, almost mindlessly, like a shadow. Why have she gone to his place? Why she found it preferable to ask for his help than to go after Robb, or get in the taxi with Sansa?

"Do you ever live a life of your own?" She finally asked, while he was running thru is drawers, trying to find her an old t-shirt large enough for her to wear as an improved pajama.

"Yes, I do." He answered with a short laugh. "Why?"

"I don't know. It's like every time the world is falling apart in my house you are always there, helping, trying to fix the wholes, pushing us away from the abysm and yet…It's like we've never talked properly. I mean…You were the best when backing me up and talking with me about boy stuff. You were like my best brother, except that you are not, and still I don't seem to know you at all."

"Deep thoughts." His face lighted up when he finally found a t-shirt. He unfolded it and showed at her like some kind of trophy, making her laugh lightly. "It will have to do for now. As for your pointless statements, I do have a life and you and your family are part of it. I guess you don't remember when I met Robb. We were pretty young and you were about Rickons age at the time, I guess. I lost my parents in a car crash and Robb was certain that I needed a family or something like that. My grandfather took care of me until I was old enough to be emancipated and your father helped me to find my way in life. I was always around your house mostly because it was better to be surrounded by Starks than to remember what I've lost by staying alone with my grandpa. When I told you that I know what you are going thru right now, it's because I've done the same before. I had my fair share of bad decisions and reckless attitude. Your mother hated me for crashing on her sofa on those occasions, but your father was always comprehensible about it. Now you go get dressed." He threw the shirt at her and pointed the bathroom door.

She grabbed the t-shirt in the air and gave a look at it. Arya laughed by seeing the image of a white wolf howling at the moon printed on it, before sinking her nose in the fabric just to feel his impregnated smell on it.

"I gave you this one about three years ago." She said in awe, surprised by the fact that he still had that cheap t-shirt she bought him with her nearly inexistent money.

"I know. Be careful of it, it's my favorite." His smiled made her heart sway. For a second she felt light like a feather and all warm, and comfortable, and accepted. That smile was almost as if he was sharing a secret with her.

Jon walked toward her and run his fingers thru her short messy hair, before kissing her forehead. "Go get dress, little girl. I'll make you tea and then you can sleep."

He left the room, giving her all the privacy she might want to change her cloths. Jon walked to the kitchen automatically, while thinking about her question, about the years spent with the Starks and most of all about how lonely he truly was.

Maybe that was the reason behind his thing with problematic girls and lost causes. They gave him an intimate sensation of motivation, fulfillment and comprehension. He was a lost cause himself and after being saved several times he felt the need to save others and in this scenario Arya was nearly a matter of honor.

He made the tea listening to her voice cursing the pain she was feeling given the bruises and cuts. She hadn't changed a bit in this way. Though as nails, a rebel at heart and surprisingly frail underneath the hard cover. She was like a work of abstract art that made him feel all at once. All the anger, all the loneliness, all the pain and all the tenderness that he had within his heart came up in their brightest colors just because Arya had this effect on him.

She had this effect in everyone, he guessed. That ability of making people low their defenses and simply help her without questioning. A leader perhaps, or maybe Arya was simply a force of nature on her own right and he enjoyed the way she never failed to make him feel needed.

They had much in common, mostly because they had experienced loss at a young age, but beyond that there was a sense of acceptance. Until now she had never made questions about his past, not even when she was a child. Robb must have told her the Jon's parents had died and Arya immediately assumed that she shouldn't talk about it. Instead she used to hug him tight whenever he arrived at the Starks and tried to make him laugh whenever she could. In return he indulged her wild and curious temper. If she was a rebel at heart and all wild in her way, Jon could only fan that fire, letting her burn as bright as she wanted and get marveled at the sight of her.

She finally came out of the room, wearing only his t-shirt that barely covered her tights. Her hair was messy, her eyes a bit sleepy and Jon could swear that she was like a Modigliani's paint, except for the fact that she had eyes; beautiful and bright eyes to match her soul, he guessed. Arya was all about impressions, uncertain sensations, sinuous silhouette, and a beauty that couldn't really be understood, only felt. He smiled at her, because it was the only viable option when he wanted to shout at her for being reckless, to embrace her for being scared and hurt, talk to her just because he liked the sound of her voice.

Jon offered her a smug of tea and Arya accepted it shyly. That was so unlike her, he thought. She was usually very secure in her manners, but whenever she was feeling shy or simply troubled she bitted her inferior lip, just like she was doing at that very moment. Arya sipped the tea before putting the smug away.

"What are you looking at?" She finally asked, making Jon realized that he had been staring at her for probably too long. "Am I that bad?" He shook his head in a negative gesture.

"Sorry. I was just thinking about stupid things." He answered quoting one of her trade mark lines.

"What exactly?" She insisted.

"You remind me of Modigliani's paintings." He answered with no pretention. "All slender, sinuous…A bit mysterious and sad."

Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush that her sudden appearance gave him. Perhaps he was just feeling like being spontaneously sincere.

"When I know your soul I'll paint your eyes…" She said with a hint of humor and intriguing smile. "Do I have eyes to you, Jon?"

"Yes, you do." He answered while watching her coming his way. There was something extraordinarily delicate and sly about the way she moved, the way she looked at him. She was close enough for him to touch her face and get nauseous by the sight of the cuts. What a shame to see her bruised like that. "And your eyes are my favorite thing about you."

Arya touched his face too, with her bandaged hand and the tips of her delicate fingers. Her hands were calloused by the use of the training saber, but no less soothing. What was happening there? He wondered for a brief second, but he was far too hypnotized by the sight of her, by the smell of her and the proximity to ever considering moving away from her.

"What are you doing?" His voice sounded vague as if he was under the effect of a drug.

Her eyes roamed all over his face, from his eyes to his slightly open mouth. The air between them was heavy with expectation, with that familiar hint of excitement that precedes the forbidden. Jon knew what she was doing, he should stop her before she could, but he was taken by a sudden curiosity. That was a bad idea. She was sad, vulnerable, hurt, but…Weren't him too? Haven't he always been?

Her lips brushed against his lightly, like a promise or maybe a test. Her mouth was soft and there was a faint smell of whiskey in her breath. His hand felt to her exposed nape and the other went straight to the small of her back. He never knew how to deny her and once more he was fanning her inner fire, just to feel marveled by the sight of it.

The kiss was more than a desperate cry for help and acceptance. It was a shared secret with someone that could understand very intimately every single bruise, every single cut, every single loss. She wasn't looking for a lover and Jon knew it all along. Arya wanted him to be her closest friend, her own kind of drug to numb her feelings and make her forget the pain for a while, but it made that gesture no less meaningful to him.

It also made him realize something that he had never been aware of. He wanted that kiss. He wanted her touches, her soft voice whispering close to his ear. He closed his eyes and jumped in the dark abysm of his new found addiction, feeling her heart beating against his chest.

She was the one to part the kiss and look at him breathless. A meaningful smile played in the corner of her mouth. He had never noticed how fair her skin was, nor how extraordinary was the shades of grey in her eyes. He never realized how much he craved for her admiration and the meaning behind this.

"We shouldn't do this." He whispered to himself. He shouldn't do that, but he was not willing to turn back; to push her away; to deny what he wanted.

Arya put a finger on his lips to silence him. Her face showed the expression of someone who wouldn't have a "no" for an answer.

"Just shut up…" She walked away from him and Jon seized the moment to breathe again. For a second he thought that she had come back to sense, and simply decided that she truly wanted nothing from him.

He observed her moving, though. Breathless and half mad by the sudden realization about his feelings for her. Arya turned to face him again. She smiled at him with a hint of mischief in her lips just before taking of the t-shirt he had given her to wear, revealing herself completely naked.

"Think of me as one of Modigliani's nudes instead." The confidence in her voice laid a challenge to him. Jon felt his mouth dry up to this bold invitation and for a second he wondered if he should accept what she was offering him.

It was about four in the morning. The city was silent and both of them had gone thru a lot to deny each other such a convenient opportunity to find pleasure. She was probably still scared, still acting on a self-destructive impulse and he would be to her just like alcohol, drunken fights and a cigarette hanging between her lips. Another way for her to kill herself a bit more, another way to numb the pain.

He had done the same thing before, while the loss was still vivid in his mind and he was constantly mad about the world and his own lack of luck. He had used sex as a scape, a way to avoid his problems and not always in a healthy way. Jon should never indulge her in this way, not when he knew exactly the kind of feeling that led her to such an awkward situation. Still…Arya had conquered his full attention and now going back was something inconceivable.

Jon gave the first step and she met him half-way. His hands became avid to touch every single inch of exposed flesh, while Arya held him as if he was her last chance of salvation. Within his arms she looked like a frail porcelain doll, one that had been severely mistreated nearly to the point of breaking.

He wanted to sooth her and reassure Arya that she could give herself time to feel the loss, to be vulnerable and that he would never reveal her secret to anyone. She could cry upon his shoulder, or ask him for company and he would never deny her anything. He wanted her happy without noticing that a long time ago he had started a dangerous process of falling for a girl that was as broken as he.

Her lips in his neck made hi shiver and the sensation of her hands roaming all over his body was like nothing Jon could compare to. Since when Arya became an object of interest? Since when he had longed for her in such a way? Since when he started to feel liberal to the point of accepting being used by a girl who was nearly eight years his junior?

Never mind the why, the how and every fucking question about what led him to take Arya in his arms and let her enlace his middle section with her legs. He simply allowed and she simply did, everything else was a natural consequence of the need of a powerful drug.

Her body under his, arching at his touch and kisses made him feel confident and powerful as he hadn't felt in a while. If anything Arya gave him an intimate sensation of importance. She needed him, she came for his help and it had been such a long time since he felt that important to anyone.

She looked straightly at his eyes the moment Jon entered her, biting her inferior lip in an effort to contain the sounds of pleasure. Her voice was like the siren's song, driving him mad to the point of not caring if she would kill him drowned. The only thing that mattered was having her in his arms, moaning and calling his name out of sheer pleasure and need.

He pinned her down, entangling their fingers, kissing her like the world was about to end and he had nothing and no one else to share his last second. Arya closed her eyes and allowed him to take her on that crazy drunk kind of a trip while feeling something finally connecting between them. Perhaps it was just the promise of a powerful orgasm, but as she felt her toes curling Jon looked at her as if he was a man seeing the sea for the first time…And for her he was just as beautiful and compelling as the sight of the sea on a full moon night.

As she came undone under the weight of his body, Jon kissed her as if he wanted her to remember where she belonged. He had finished when she was still feeling the waves of pleasure running thru her body, allowing his body to rest for a while on top of her just enough for him to recover his senses.

Her body was still sored when Jon pulled her to rest her head on his chest. She did so just to hear the rhythm of his heart beating. They remained silent like that for a while, to insecure to ever break the silence and deal with the consequences of their impulses. Robb would gladly kill them both if he ever suspected that his best friend had been so kind to comfort her in such a way, and Jon…Jon would be sweet, gallant, and stupid as ever.

She liked him, though. All old fashioned and chivalrous as he was, Arya liked him more than anyone in the world, mostly because he never tried to make her any different of what she was. In this way, Jon even reminded her of her father. Talk about Electra Complex.

"Second thoughts already?" He asked lightly, almost as if he really didn't care about how the things would develop from that moment on.

"I don't usually indulge regrets and second thoughts." She replied immediately. Truth be told, she didn't knew what to expect from him now. Jon had never stricken her as guy who took intimacy and sex lightly. In fact she was pretty sure that he was a romantic at heart, but chose to not show it. "What about your conscience?"

"I just think that Robb should be kept ignorant about this night." Jon answered in a surprisingly carefree way.

"I thought you would need a shrink after this." Arya laughed at the situation. After all they were both naked in Jon's bed after having their fair share of pleasure, and neither of them could picture Robb dealing well with that information.

Jon played with a lock of her hair for a while. His face was relaxed and serene as she had never seen before. Was it supposed to be so natural? Certainly she has never expected so, but there he was again. At a corner in her life, being the life saver, the one to pull her away from the abysm she constantly looked at.

"Have you planed this all the way?" He asked calmly. "I mean…It was the sex what you truly wanted?"

"Not really. I mean…I've always had a thing for you but never really hope that it would get me anywhere." Arya answered before yawning. "It turned out to be a very agreeable night after all. You are much better than a bottle of cheap whiskey."

Jon laughed openly at that. Pillow talk and self-destructive attitudes. They were basically the material of what bohemian dramas where made of and she could be his favorite brand of absinth. She could be his muse any time she wanted to. He could pretend to be Modigliani, Picasso or even Matisse just to keep in canvas every singles impression, sensation, smell and torment of Arya Stark.

"Better safe old me than drunken fights and cheap booze and cigarettes. Even Robb would have to agree to that." Jon said with a gentle smile. "Am I another way for you to get numb? Although I enjoy having you here and all, I don't think that I can indulge your rebel nature by putting my heart on the line."

"Is that one of those big talks when we start to talk about our own issues with rejection, low self-stem and dead parents?" She asked closing her eyes and hopping that things wouldn't turn in to something impossible to handle.

"Maybe." Jon sighted, holding her tighter for a while. "I won't say that I didn't want it, but I'm pass the time when meaningless sex can do anything for me other than remind me that I truly have no one left. And you…You are important to me and you know that. I understand that you may be in that limbo where every bad idea seems better than face the truth, but I refuse to be your plaything."

"Can we give a step at time, please?" She asked in a tone that said she didn't want to think about that kind of thing, not just yet.

"Sure. Why did you come here after all?" He finally asked while staring at the roof and holding her tight so she wouldn't simply fly away.

"I just wanted someone that would hold me for a while. I knew you wouldn't deny me that." She replied shyly, sounding absolutely sincere about it.

"I guess that's enough for now." He kissed her forehead and closed his eyes.

As in one of his favorite songs, Jon guessed that the nights were made to say the things the he couldn't say in the day light, but pushing her for explanations didn't sound like a good idea. He took a deep breath and caressed her naked skin, while her smell impregnated every fiber and every cell in his body. For now she just wanted to be hold, and he wanted just the same.

Author's Note: Painfully PWP, but what can I do when Ed Sheeran starts to play on my playlist? Yeah…That was a bittersweet one, and kind of pointless, but I hope you enjoy. It's not explicit here, but Arya's issue is that she saw her father be murdered at a pretty young age and Jon is…Well, he is Jon. He is her comfort zone and her safe place. I hope you like this one and leave me some reviews. The song that inspired me was "Kiss Me" and "Give Me Love" (yeah…I was indulging my double X genes by watching TVD and drowning in the soundtrack.). I seriously hope that you guys enjoy this one, because if this was a song I would have to quote Arctic Monkeys by saying "I've poured my aching heart into a pop song, I couldn't get the hang on poetry".

Bee