Disclaimer: Game of Thrones belongs to HBO, A Song of Ice and Fire belongs to G: R. R. Martin, no money is made with this fanfiction.
Robb closed his laptop with a snort of which he wasn't quite sure whether it conveyed frustration or confusion. Both, probably, considering the ridiculousness that had become his tumblr.
Really, all he'd ever wanted from it was to discuss his favourite books, TV characters, and actors and post pretty gifs of said characters and actors. Also, possibly a fanfiction or two of said characters, with them madly and adorably in love, since that was harmless and cute and the perfect hobby. And well, if he went on long rants if those shows and actors were unfairly attacked, that was pretty understandable, wasn't it? His tumblr friends had assured him that it was, and that there was nothing weird about it.
Those anon questions, though . . . At first, he'd liked the feature. People could be shy, even online, so if they wanted to ask him something without him knowing it was them and therefore them not having to feel awkward about it - that was a great idea, right? Right.
Most of the time, it was - story prompts and questions pertaining to the plots were inspirational, and writing meta was a lot of fun, even if Theon told him he was spending too much time talking about fictional people that he should better spend doing all kinds of much more interesting things with him. "Besides," he'd argued, "you're 26, you have a job and a boyfriend. What normal person has time for tumblr at 26?"
That was precisely the kind of ridiculous question the anons had begun asking recently. It was driving Robb up the walls. And there was more:
- Should I turn up the radio real loud when I go to the loo at my boyfriend's flat? I'd be so ashamed if he heard anything.
- What do you think of red-heads – do they really have no souls?
- Do you think participating in a casting show is a good idea? I mean, they can't possibly fake it all, can they?
- Do I like cheese or ham on my sandwich? I can't decide and it really makes me feel bad.
It was that last question that had made him close the laptop. It was enough for today. Short of capslocking HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW, THEY'RE YOUR TASTEBUDS, FFS ANON! he hadn't been able to come up with any answer, so he decided he needed to take a walk. Or go find Theon and snog him senseless. Possibly both.
Theon wasn't in his room, though, and not in the kitchen or living room either. Oh, well, he'd have to make do with a walk, then. Maybe Theon would be back later – though Robb was wondering where he'd gone. He usually left a little note at the pin board in the kitchen, and there was none.
"Maybe he's forgotten," Robb was thinking when he passed Jon's door on his way outside.
"I think that was too much," a voice said inside, snickering in a very familiar fashion.
Theon?
In Jon's room? Laughing?
What the hell.
"Snow, I think you broke him. The question was too stupid even for you."
"As if you could talk," Robb heard Jon say. "My six-year-old brother keeps stealing my condoms to turn them into water balloons. What do I do, Robb? Help me! Really, Greyjoy, for your age your mind still works astoundingly like a teenager's."
Theon's cackle was barely muffled by the door. Robb was about to fling it open and tell them just what he was thinking of their idiotic little prank when Jon joined in.
Robb nearly hit his head against the wood in the attempt to stop himself as quietly as he possibly could.
Right. This. This was . . . Jon and Theon bonding over annoying him? And now – now he understood some other things as well. Like how there had been so little bickering these last days during dinner. Or why Jon had actually had dinner with them three days in a row, for once, when usually, he'd just grab a plate of whatever Theon had cooked and disappear into his room. Or – and that really should have ticked him off – how Theon hadn't complained even once these last few days that Robb was spending too much time on tumblr.
Almost holding his breath, Robb crept away from the door – the cackling had turned into giggling by now – and put on his shoes. Let the two laugh a little more at his online misfortunes. If that was what it took to turn an uncomfortable roommate situation born out of necessity into something that might approach bearable or even friendly, Robb wasn't going to complain.
Although, he pondered as he walked towards the nearby park, if he turned the whole thing into a fanfic and made the characters representing the two snog each other within an inch of their lives in the end, they'd only have themselves to blame . . .