Arya woke up with a snort and the gross taste of old Mountain Dew in her mouth and her xbox controller jabbing her in the back. She rolled over onto her side and grabbed her phone from her nightstand. It was only 6:14. There was a message from Gendry that he sent at 4:39 but she ignored it for now. "Ah, fuck Mondays." She cuddled into her Gendry smelling pillow and went back to sleep. Five more minutes…
..o..o..o..
Sansa was curling the ends of her hair, smiling at herself in the mirror, singing something because she was chipper like that despite it being the most hated day of the week. She licked her strawberry flavored lips and checked her phone. One message from Joff. She felt her heart pound in her chest. She quickly opened the message.
The dog is picking you up today. I'll be by your locker. c;
Sansa smiled at her phone, pressing it to her heart. "Oh, Joff-Joff…"
..o..o..o..
The weekend came and went for Bran with not much to show for. He studied, played TF2 until his eyes burned, and jerked off to his dreams. He was pretty sure that made him lame but he wasn't at the liberty to care. He questioned his sexuality more than once. But none of that was new to him.
He was having more dreams about the blond boy. Not all of them were grip the sheets orgasmic but those did leave the lasting impression. Some of them were normal dreams but Blondie-Bran's stupid cheesy name for the boy-was always in them. Although his face was never completely in focus. Every time he looked at him it was like looking into someone else's glasses, all blurry and fuzzy. He was beginning to desperately wish to see that face completely.
But he remembered the eyes though, always the eyes. So green he thought he was drowning in a sea of grass and moss.
He was a romantic. Deal with it.
..o..o..o..
Arya sat in the far back of the room, liking to be shrouded in the shadows than being in the spotlight. And she knew there was less of a chance that she'd get called on, it wasn't like she was actually paying attention. She had a perfect view into the shallow woods around her school, all tall trees with thick branches and she was filled with the desire to climb them..
Gendry slouched down next to her, turning his head to stare at her. He didn't say anything, he just stared.
After a while Arya got annoyed. "Are you just going to stare at me all day? What's your problem?"
"Sorry I was entrapped by your beauty. I couldn't help myself." He said this with absolute seriousness. He didn't smile or laugh.
Beauty? I didn't even know that was in Gendry's vocabulary. Arya thought while trying to force her disturbed expression away. She felt unease creep into her regardless. What the everlasting fuck? "Are you okay? Did you fall up the stairs again?" She pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. He felt normal at least.
Gendry shook his head, reaching up to touch her hand. "I'm alright, Arya. But I meant what I said. You're beautiful."
Other around them must have heard because it suddenly got very quiet in the classroom. Shit, Arya thought, shit, shit shit. Gendry was her best friend. And yeah, he sometimes sleeps over, and yeah they kissed a few times, but that was it. They weren't boyfriend and girlfriend, at least not to her. The thought of being in a relationship made her feel queasy. She didn't know how to handle things like this. Things like love.
The next best thing she knew was anger.
"Cut the shit, Gendry, I'm not in the mood."
He stared at her with his steely blue eyes and let out a harsh breath. "You're never in the mood. Why is that, huh? Why are you always so cold?"
She clenched her jaw. She had no idea what got into Gendry. Why was he acting like this? Her mood plummeted to the ground as her anger shot up. "Fuck you! Why are you acting like such a dick?" she hissed at him, trying to keep her voice low enough that their teacher wouldn't overhear. She could give fuck-all about the peers around her, though.
Gendry shook his head and ran his fingers through his thick black hair. He sighed deeply and shook his head again, as if dispelling thoughts from his ears. "Nevermind. Forget it."
"No." She leaned in to face him, her throat dry from a feeling she couldn't explain. Didn't want to explain. "Tell me."
He wouldn't meet her eyes and she felt like she really fucked up this time. But it wasn't her fault if she did. She watched as he shook his head and promptly ignored her. She sat back, completely at a loss of what to do. She didn't get why Gendry was acting like this. She couldn't think of anything that she did wrong to him. The last time they talked was Sunday night and it was nothing but normal. Well, he did mention something about her smile...but that wasn't unusual, not like this.
And why was he even calling her beautiful? She wasn't beautiful. Sansa and her bitchy friends always called her horseface. And neither Lommy or Hot Pie ever hinted to being attracted to her her and they always talked about the hot girls at their school. So what the hell?
She bit her tongue from screaming out in frustration. She would lie to anyone who said they saw tears in her eyes.
..o..o..o..
Bran covered a yawn and pulled out his aged Lord of The Rings copy and began reading. The thing was so old and damn near fallen apart but it felt like a family heirloom. It was that old. He only started reading at the part where Frodo wakes up in Elrond's house when he heard the seemingly innocuous sound of the chair next to him pulling out.
He froze and slowly looked to his left. At first all he could see was a green sweater. The bottle green sweater with the Greywater University logo on it. Then blond hair and moss green eyes.
I'm dreaming. This has all been a dream. I'm not seeing this. Nope. Nope. Nope. I'm in my bed dreaming this. Bran closed his eyes and pinched his arm, his heart beating erratically in his small chest. He opened his eyes again but there he was. He looked down at his hands and saw that he had all ten fingers. He looked back up at the blond.
There he is, a voice whispered in the back of his mind and behind all the shock he almost felt like he'd been expecting this.
The boy was blond with emerald green eyes and pink lips. He was dressed in jeans and that sweater. His ears were pierced with silvers hoops and studs and he wore a checkered wristband. He looked at Bran with an eyebrow raised in what he assumed was concern. Or he was looking at him like "what the fuck is wrong with this kid," Bran couldn't tell over the rising panic he felt.
"I'm sorry...but are you real?" Bran asked as calmly as he could. As calm as anyone could be when literally seeing the guy of your dreams sitting two feet away from you. Which wasn't much.
His insides felt like they were being jumbled around to the point he thought he was going to be sick. He could just imagine upchucking right there, getting all of it over that green sweater. His hands felt clammy and his head a bit light, he wondered if this was what drugs were like because he was pretty sure he was hallucinating. He blinked a few times but the boy was still standing there.
The blond's lips quirked up in a half smile. Bran couldn't stop his brain from remembering all those dreams. He could almost feel those same lips pressed hotly against his skin, right above his hip, mouthing down between his legs-oh shit.
Don't get a hard-on, Brandon Stark, get your shit together! He forced his thoughts away from what those lips could do and stared at the boy again. Old Nan, think of Old Nan!
The green eyed boy looked down at his own body in surprise. "As far as I know. Why, are you tripping? You aren't going to ask me what year it is, are you?"
Attractive with a sense of humor. Sexuality be damned! And, gods, his voice was just-so smooth! Bran was trying not to have a meltdown and seem normal at the same time but his brain functionality was diminishing at the second.
Bran tried not to choke on his spit. "Sorry, that was, uh, nevermind. Not important," nice save. That didn't help the fact that I sound like a total dumbass. That was followed by a couple awkward haha's and um's.
"Is it alright if I sit here?" His perfectly shaped eyebrows quirked up questioningly and Bran tried really hard not to stare like a moron. "I'm not in anyone's spot am I? I'd hate to have to move after I marked my territory all over it." His voice was so soft and smooth and Bran was aware that he just described his voice like he described peanut butter.
And what? Marking his territory? Yeah. Sure.
Bran chuckled but it came out barely noticeable and awkward. "You can sit with me."
The blond sat and put out his hand and after a while wiggled it when Bran just stared at it. "You know this is normally when you shake my hand. I don't have cooties, I swear."
Bran slid his hand into his. He hoped his palm wasn't sweaty. He felt sweaty and turned on. Like really, really turned on. Over a goddamn handshake. His fingers tingled as they brushed against the other boy's and when the boy gripped his hand tightly, Bran stopped his brain from thinking of what that would feel like on his dick. "Sorry, I'm Brandon Stark. You can just call me Bran." And, you know, I've just been dreaming about fucking you for the past few months. No big deal.
"Reed. Jojen Reed, at your service." He smiled, looking so proud of himself.
Now he had a name to the face. Face, body, all that.
Bran was smiling like a complete dork. He couldn't stop staring at his green eyes. They were just like he remembered. Beautiful as fuck. He knew this was weird. It wasn't right. It freaked him out on the inside and he kept worrying that he was imagining this and that he was just talking to himself in the middle of class. But when he looked around no one was giving him weird looks and Jojen seemed real enough.
"Where did you come from?" Heaven, maybe?
"I used to live in The Neck buuuuut my parents got a divorce and now I live with my mom." He said, taking one look at Bran's expression and continued. "Don't worry it's not like they hate each other. It's not my fault either, or my sisters. They just...fell out of love." He shrugged.
Bran thought he sounded a bit miserable when he said that. Like he was some die hard romantic and his parents divorce crushed his fragile views on romance. He didn't know what to say so he said, "I'm sorry" and awkwardly looked away. Damn his awkwardness.
"It's fine now," Jojen shrugged again and picked at the healing scar on his wrist.
Bran felt a wave of sadness crash against his heart. Jojen cuts? He just wanted to wrap the blond up in a hug now. He wanted to protect Jojen from anything that would make him sad or depressed. He was so tempted to do just that but he didn't want to come off as a total creep. He did just meet this dude, it would probably cross a lot of boundaries if he did that. Oh, but he wanted to so bad.
He must have seen Bran looking because he stopped scratching at it and flushed a little. Bran thought that was immensely cute. "Oh...no...it's not-" he sighed and chuckled lightly. "I cut myself cutting a pizza the other day. And no that's not a lie. Here," he turned his wrist and touched a pink burn mark. It still looked fresh, the skin raised and irritated. "I burned myself on the oven, freaked, and cut myself too. I have horrible luck."
Bran sighed in relief, almost deflating in his chair. "You should probably stay away from pointy things."
"And ovens."
The brunet chuckled and lifted his sleeve. The long since healed cut was pink against his pale skin. "I used to climb trees a lot. I got this from a stupidly sharp branch. It hurt like a bitch. Had to get stitches."
Jojen reached out and traced it with his finger, zigzagging it from stitch scar to stitch scar. Warm tingles spread out through his arm with that single stroke. The brunet turned his head to look at Jojen and found that their faces were super close, only a breath away. Jojen's hair smelled like flowery shampoo and his breath like spearmint gum. His face flushed pink. Oh shit, son.
Riiiing-oh yes. Saved by the bell.
Mr. Baelish walked in with his usual smile and flourish and Bran pulled his arm back. Honestly, Bran always thought this guy was a creep. He always hit on his mom during conferences-apparently they knew each other from childhood?-and it always pissed his dad off. And sometimes he saw him looking at Sansa with that weird smile on his face.
Mr. Baelish saw Jojen's unfamiliar face with his tiny blue-grey eyes and walked towards him. He smelled like too much cologne and not enough toothpaste. "Why, is this our new student? I see you've acquainted yourself with him, Bran."
Ugh gross now he's looking at me. Bran wanted to wheel himself over a cliff right about now.
"I'm Jojen Reed, it's nice to meet you…?"
"Call me Mr. Baelish. You transferred all the way from Greywater High, huh? Well, I truly hope you enjoy our school. If you need anything, you can come to me." All the while his eyes roamed over Jojen's features.
"Right." Jojen nodded slowly, sounding like he would do the exact opposite and trying not to look mortified.
"Have Bran get you caught up. I'm sure he'll be a great teacher to you. He is my top student." He smiled at Bran before walking to the front of the room to instruct the class.
Jojen was trying not laugh. "Is he always so…"
"Disturbing?"
"Yep."
"How do you think I feel? He's always trying to show me off to the other math teachers. And he knows my parents on a personal level, apparently. Gods, he once was invited over to my house for dinner." That was a trainwreck, one Bran did not want to recap.
"I feel so bad for you. It's like having Peter Pettigrew hovering over you with those creepy eyes. Why are his eyes so tiny? And that smile," Jojen shuddered. "I feel like he just undressed me."
"It's sad because his name is Petyr." Bran whispered.
Jojen laughed quietly into his sleeve. It was adorable. Bran was just staring at him. He was hot in like a dorky nerdy way. Maybe cute was better. He was kind of short but Bran didn't care. Everyone was taller than him anyway.
"So, what's your schedule?" Bran asked and took the white paper that Jojen handed him. "You're a junior?" He asked in shock, eyes quickly looking over Jojen's features again. Not that he minded, of course. Jojen was hot, Bran decided.
Jojen nodded, biting a nail, unconcerned. "Yeah, why?"
"Sorry, it's...just that you look like a thirteen year old."
When Jojen rolled his eyes and smiled Bran knew he wasn't offended by his honesty. "I age well. I'm like fine wine."
Bran chuckled, not doubting it at all. "We have lunch and ceramics together." His stomach flipped at that. Today must have been the day the gods smiled down on him because there was no way he was this lucky. The boy of his dreams...pretty much all to himself.
He was still pretty sure this was all an elaborate dream. If it was, it was punishment for all his bad deeds. Not that he had many, but he knew of a few. He was regretting the time he laughed when Lucy Flowers got her fingers jammed in the locker, but it was funny at the time. Hilarious, actually. Plus Lucy Flowers was a bitch and she kind of deserved it.
The blond boy of Bran's wet dreams took his schedule back and looked at it, nodding as if he knew what classes Bran even had. "So it seems. I'll get to see you in the morning, at lunch, and at the end of the day." He ticked the three off on his fingers then wiggled them.
Bran nodded, amused already by the teens eccentricities. "And in between classes, see my third hour is right across from yours, same with my fifth," he told him with a half-smile. "It seems like you're not going to be able to get rid of me, unfortunately," he muttered, hoping it wasn't actually a bad thing for Jojen. Because it definitely wasn't for Bran, that was for damn sure.
Jojen hummed, a deep sound that Bran instantly liked. "Mm, I'm fine with that. Another man's misfortune is another's man's gain." He winked. Bran nearly swooned.
He's fine with seeing me all day, Bran thought giddily. He was fine. Yeah, Jojen was fine. Fine, fine, fine. Bran was about, hm, five second away from doing something completely ridiculous like kissing Jojen. Kissing those adorably pink lips and not regretting it afterwards.
You can't kiss him. You just met him. Bran, stop, stop it right now. He's straight! Straight. Straight. Straight. Okay he might not be, but don't kiss him. You. Just. Met. Him.
He had to look away before he closed the small-and getting smaller-distance between them. He heard Jojen let out a sigh when he moved away and Bran felt disappointed with himself because fuck Jojen totally would have kissed him and he just ruined it. Thanks brain, you really helped a ton.
It was awkward for a while. Bran rubbed the back of his neck and looked around. No one seemed to see that awkward exchange. All except Mr. Baelish. He was watching, always watching.
"Sooooo, I bet you understand this more than me," Jojen muttered, flailing his paper about. "Considering I am in sophomore math as a junior. But come on, math fucking sucks."
And just like that the awkwardness was gone and they went back to talking again, sitting even closer to each other.
..o..o..o..
Sandor Clegane was a beast of a man. Tall, muscular, intimidating. His face was mean and scarred and no one ever looked too hard at him in fear that he would read your soul or beat your ass. He was quick to anger and ever quicker to punching someone in the face. No one fucked with him. Not even the teachers.
Sansa didn't know why he even came to school. He never said anything unless he was threatening someone. The only time she's seen him do work is in Tech.
She sighed, trying not to fall asleep in her seat. She looked at the clock. Only two minutes have passed since she'd last glanced at it. Twelve minutes until lunch.
She tapped her pencil against the table. Mr. Pycelle was about as interesting as a hangnail. It literally hurt to listen to him talk in his whispery rasp of a voice. And he taught history. He was so old she was sure everything he talked about were first hand accounts. Her bored blue eyes wandered around the room, searching for Margaery's eyes. She rolled them and mimed shooting herself when they met hers. Her best friend smiled and slit her throat with her finger, her eyes rolling back into her head.
Ten minutes left, oh fuck me Stranger, Sansa thought.
She continued to think, but her thoughts didn't go to the apparent love of her life but to his body guard. Sandor. Hound. Sandor. Dog. It wasn't like he was nice to her. He called her a bitch the other day and he threatened her just yesterday. But there wasn't any heat to it. It was all empty words and she knew that.
She didn't know why she did, but she just did. It must have to do with him calling her 'little bird' all the time. Sansa didn't take that as an insult. Not from him.
The bell rang before she knew it and the relief almost made her pass out.
"Come, my dearest friend, before we internally combust from absolute boredom." Margaery looped her arm around her and dragged her weary bones out of the classroom.
"Six more months. Six more months and we're out of here." Sansa muttered under her breath. They were both going to King's Landing University in the fall. They still had six more months of high school to go through. It was torture, goddamn torture. She couldn't understand how teachers ever wanted to come back to this place.
"Yes, and we can sunbathe! And pick flowers! I can't wait. Sansa, let's build a time machine." Margaery sang.
"Sure, why not? I bet we could do it if we tried." Sansa said. "Although I don't know a thing about mechanics and engineering."
"Neither do I. We could get those weird kids from the robotics team to build it for us and we can just watch and sip mimosas."
"It's the classy thing to do." They clinked pretend glasses together in a toast before laughing at how weird they were.
"Gods, I'm hungry. I hope they don't have that nasty pizza. It gives you dog breath."
"It's honestly probably made out of dogs. Strays at that!"
They sat at the long table, squeezing in between Joffrey and Jeyne. Arya wasn't there yet but Gendry, Lommy, and Hot Pie were. Gendry looked moody and had his earbuds in. Not even Lommy's horrible impersonation of Principle Brienne made him laugh. She knew it took Bran a while to get down here with his wheelchair so she wasn't worried.
When Bran did come down he was with someone. A blond boy with green eyes that she's never seen before. Bran was smiling up at the blond and talking excitedly with him. She felt a smile curve at her lips. Bran's finally making friends. It's about time. She noticed in the corner of her eye Jeyne sitting up a bit straighter and subtly checking if her hair was perfect. Does Jeyne like Bran? Sansa smirked a little.
Time to play matchmaker.