Chapter 3: Gendry

He taped a sign to his window before heading down to dinner.

Grading tests tonight. Come distract me.

"No Arya tonight?" winked Aurane.

"She might be by."

Jon groaned. "You know, I was all for this until I realized we shared a wall. There's some things a brother should never have to hear."

"You aren't working tonight?" asked Aurane.

"Nope. Traded shifts with Grenn so he can propose to his girlfriend Saturday."

"You're too nice sometimes."

"How is that too nice? It's the decent thing to do. The man wants to get married."

"Sacrificing our Saturday night. I had plans."

"You always have plans. They rarely involve me."

"They did involve you, actually. It was going to be a double date."

"And you didn't ask Daemon?" Jon's eyebrows shot up.

"He's got a date, actually. Or rather, his ex is going to be in town and she gave him a booty call. Does it count as a booty call if it's via email, several days in advance?"

"Yep."

"Absolutely."

"You'll like her, Jon. She's your type."

"Which is?"

"From the north."

Jon rolled his eyes.

"Well, you'll have to find someone else, because I have a shift on Saturday now."

"You disappoint me, sir."

"You'll get over it."

"I would then turn to you, Gendry, but you probably will already be engaged by Jon's little sister."

Gendry simply smiled, and half-winked.

Jon groaned again. "At least I'll be out of the house then."

"It's all right, Jon. I have some tequila that needs drinking, and since you've robbed me of my Saturday night plans with you, tonight should make for a suitable substitute, should young Arya show up."

Jon groaned again. "Can you not refer to her as 'young Arya,' please?"

"I second this request," grumbled Gendry. These days he was mostly able to forget Arya was that much younger than him. When she was straddling him and rubbing herself up against him, for example, or when she was slipping her tongue into his mouth. But the moment that he remembered often served to be just as affective as a cold shower.

His mother had told him that, if it worked out, it wouldn't matter in the long run. Which was true. But it did not stop him from feeling uncomfortable in the moment.

"Bloody fuck. What is this?" demanded Jon almost spitting out the soup he had taken a bite of.

"Soup."

"No shit. It's terrible. What's in it?"

"Swap shifts with someone for Saturday and I'll tell you."

Jon rolled his eyes and put another spoonful of soup in his mouth. He shuddered.

Arya came through the back door. "Hello, I brought leftover stir-fry that really needs to be eaten."

"You're heavenly," smiled Gendry, kissing the top of her head, removing the container from her hands and putting it in the microwave.

"I try. I don't know if there's enough for more than you though. It depends how hungry people are," she glanced apologetically at Jon.

"I'll survive. I think," Jon sighed dramatically. He raised the soup to his lips again and sipped loudly. "You know, I think you get desensitized to it after a while."

"You sound a little too hopeful there, Jon," grinned Aurane, lighting a cigarette.

"Can you not smoke while I'm eating? It's bad enough that I have to deal with this shit," Jon gestured to his soup, "on top of that shit." He gestured to Aurane's cigarette.

"Too late," shrugged Aurane, blowing some smoke right in Jon's face.

Jon coughed.

"Poor form, mate. Poor form," chided Gendry, taking a bite of the stir-fry. It scalded his tongue. He did his best to withhold a yelp.

Arya snorted.

"Why are you and Aurane arguing?" she asked Jon, taking the seat next to him while Gendry leaned against the stove, blowing on his food.

"Aurane wants to set me up with someone on Saturday, but I have work."

"You could have fun you know. Change shifts with someone."

"That is a ridiculous process, and at this point I don't know what will be possible. It's really hard to switch someone to a Saturday shift," sighed Jon. "Besides. I'm not sure that I want to go."

"You never want to have fun," grumbled Arya.

Aurane laughed. "You see? I've been saying it for ages, Jon. Send an email to your colleagues and see if one of them can swap you. You won't regret it."

"I bet I will," muttered Jon. But he pulled out his phone and began tapping away on it. A moment later, he said "There. Are you happy? Let the fates decide whether or not to humor you."

"Atta boy!" Aurane took a sip of soup, then made a revolted face. "This really is crap. What was I thinking?"

"I bloody told you!" snapped Jon.

Gendry slipped his arms around Arya's waist and whispered in her ear. "Let's go upstairs."

She glanced at him, then at Jon who was shaking his spoon at Aurane, berating him for "unhealthy kitchen practices" and "sheer idiocy." She slipped off her chair and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. Gendry chucked the empty stir-fry container in the sink and followed her upstairs.

"I'll grab the tequila for you, Jon." He heard Aurane stage whisper as he left. Without looking at him, Gendry gave him the finger.

Arya was examining the sign he had stuck to the window. Her shoes and sweatshirt were lying on the floor and as she read, she was toe-ing off her socks.

"I like this method of message-leaving," she smiled at him, placing the note on his desk.

"It brings back fond memories, doesn't it?"

Arya rolled her eyes. "You're grading tonight?"

"Theoretically." He arched an eyebrow. At the moment, he had no plans to even begin thinking about schoolwork.

Arya nodded slowly. "Distract you how?" Her eyes were alight.

"I'm sure you'll figure out something. You're good at being creative." He sat down on the bed.

He expected her to come and sit on the bed—or maybe his lap. He expected her to laugh and press him for more information. There was even a small part of him that expected her to tell him to get to work, kiss his cheek and dart back downstairs.

But Arya never really did what he expected her to. He liked that about her a great deal.

Especially when she peeled her t-shirt off and stood before him, bra-less, with a positively evil grin on her face.