A/N: Brief, vague mentions of stalking.
A deceitful smile twisted thin lips, and what little light there was shone on over slicked hair. Cruel eyes were dull in a narrow, witless face. Jojen stood abruptly, unconsciously placing himself between Bran and the intruder. Granted, they were out of doors in a public place, but it was still quite the intrusion in a court of common decency. A heavy silence fell between them. The trespasser made no move to continue on his way, and the pair of adolescents were frozen in shock.
Bran cleared his throat, keenly aware of every gargled crackle he made, and called out, "Summer, come!" She was by his side in seconds, weaving around Jojen's legs.
"Love," the man continued unabashedly, "seems to be blossoming in Moat Cailin, first Loras and dear Renly, then your sister and Margaery, and now the two of you. I've even heard your cousin has brought his own sweetheart down from beyond the Wall."
"And where did you hear all that?" Bran retorted defensively.
"Oh, I'm always listening, Brandon," he simpered, giving Jojen a look that made him want to run home and shower. "Do give my best to your parents." With an absent minded wave, the man continued down the street, an unearned swagger further tainting his already obscene passage.
"Who the hell was that?" Jojen demanded as soon as he was out of sight, snatching Summer's leash of the ground.
"Friend of the family." He paused, then amended, "Ex-friend. Petyr Baelish was my maternal grandfather's ward, he and Mother grew up together. Then he got super creepy and way too attached. He runs a cyber-detective service now, I think, scrounging up dirt on cheating spouses, fraudulent businessmen, the scandalous of the upper echelon. He also kind of stalked my sister at one point."
"Singular," Jojen snorted derisively as they proceeded on their way. "Did she get a restraining order?"
"No," Bran huffed, obviously frustrated, "but my dad said that if he ever came near Mom or Sansa again he'd have him arrested and jailed for the foreseeable future."
"Wow."
"Yeah, takes a lot to ruffle Dad, but Baelish did it. 'Mockingbirds are easily crushed in the jaws of a wolf' he said." Bran shuddered, remembering the cold look in his father's eyes as clearly as if it were yesterday, though it was actually five years ago. Sansa had been seventeen then, and their father had been dead set on having Baelish arrested for harassment. Catelyn had just barely convinced him otherwise, and Bran would never understand why she would bother defending a man who had threatened the safety of her underage daughter.
"Is that why Jaime Lannister works for your family?"
"Yep, my uncle, Rhaegar, introduced them directly after the fact when Dad was looking into private security. He and his wife Brienne were looking to live somewhere other than King's Landing, anyway. Probably to keep their kids away from their pretentious ass cousin, Joffrey." Jaime and Brienne Lannister had two of their own golden haired children. Myrcella, who was their age, and Tommen, who was a year younger.
"He's a Baratheon, right?" Jojen inquired. "He'll be at the wedding?"
"I honestly don't know." As far as Bran knew, the Baratheons weren't particularly fond of Renly and Loras' relationship, nevermind it was the healthiest in that generation with Stannis and Robert both bound in loveless marriages. "I certainly hope not."
They carried on walking, pausing only once more for Jojen to duck into Moat Cailin's only new age shop and say hello to Maggy Frogge, a friend of his mother. They hardly spoke for the next hour or so that it took to get back to Winterfell Manor. At the edge of the driveway, Bran made a move to take off Jojen's coat and return it, but the other boy stopped him.
"Keep it," he insisted, leaning in to kiss Bran's cheek, "You can give it back when I see you again."
And that was the reason Bran entered the house hardly realizing he was grinning like a complete and utter dork, ripe for mocking by Arya and Rickon, only to have them beaten out by a different Stark entirely.
"Bran, whose jacket is that?" Catelyn questioned patiently, though she blocked his path through the hall.
"It's Jojen's, I forgot to wear a coat and he gave me his," he explained, wondering if that sounded platonic or not.
Apparently, Catelyn didn't think so as she narrowed her eyes shrewdly, getting out of his way, "I see."
After releasing Summer and stowing her leash, Bran made his way upstairs. He past Rickon's room, the door almost vibrating from the force of the bassline of the song he had playing. Next was Sansa's room wherein he could hear enough tittering and giggling to assume Margaery was over for a visit. Last, across from his own was Arya's room. Just under the out of place, angsty, indie rock from the University station was… sniffling? He knocked urgently, Arya Stark did not cry. Ever. Not even when Sarah and Karl didn't end up together in Love, Actually.
"Who is it?" was the muffled reply, as if spoken through a pillow.
"It's Bran."
A little clearer, "Come in." He moved into the room, pushing the door safely shut behind him. Arya was sitting on her bed, arms wrapped around her giant stuffed wolf, Nymeria, and her eyes were ringed in red. She sniffed loudly, sounding choked as she spoke, "He hates me, Bran."
"The mechanic?"
"He has a name," she spat angrily, "and it's Gendry Waters. Gendry Waters hates me and I'm fucking devastated." She buried her face in Nymeria's polyester fur, shoulders shuddering.
This infatuation was far more serious than Bran had originally assumed. "How do you know he hates you?"
"I went to Good Reeds this afternoon to get a book for a class and he was there, as soon as he made eye contact with me he left the shop! He doesn't even want to be near me, Bran!"
He awkwardly patted his sister's knee like mothers did in period films. "He might just be shy, Arya, you are kind of intimidating."
"Oh, sure," she laughed bitterly, "that's exactly why."
"Please! He has absolutely no reason to hate you!" he tried to reason. "Maybe if you reached out to him through social media he'd have an easier time talking to you? He could be shy."
"I'll try," she sniffed, not seeming convinced. "Thanks, Bran."
"Of course, but seriously, if he doesn't want to date you he's a fucking idiot."
This time she chuckled genuinely before asking, "So how's Jojen? Don't look at me like that, I saw him walk you to the driveway. You two a real item?"
"Maybe? I don't know," he sputtered. "He kissed me, or I kissed him and it was great, and then Baelish showed up and was super creepy—"
"Baelish?" Arya's eyes widened.
"Yes, don't interrupt. Then Baelish left and we kind of laughed it off and kept walking and didn't really talk until we got back to the house. Then I tried to give him his jacket back, he gave it to me before we kissed 'cause I was cold, and he told me to keep it until I saw him again which will probably be tomorrow night and it's going to be so embarrassing." He looked over to see her smirking her 'I-told-you-so' smirk.
"You guys are so going to be the cutest couple at Loras and Renly's wedding." Bran blushed furiously, turning to exit the room and leave her to her whiney college music.
Out in the hall, he could hear raised voices from his dad's study. Well, rather his mother was speaking loudly and his father's voice was steady as ever. He moved closer, just near enough to make out what was being said.
"...this rate I won't have any grandchildren, Ned!"
"You know that isn't true, Cat. Bran could do a whole lot worse than the Reed boy."
"I know Howland Reed is your friend, Ned, but it needs to end before they both get hurt."
"Is this really about grandchildren, or are you just scared of letting another one of your children go? Or is it because you don't think he could take care of Bran?"
"With his condition?" Catelyn scoffed, a tone that sent a shard of ice through Bran's heart.
"Howland says the boy hasn't had a seizure in almost a year, it is manageable. He could be good for our son, just give him a chance."
Not wanting to hear anymore, Bran went to his own bedroom, shutting his door as quietly as possible. A lump rose in his throat and his eyes stung. How dare she! His own mother. After getting onto his bed, he pulled out his phone. He couldn't text Jojen, obviously, but he had one other friend that would listen to him.
To: Myrce
You okay to talk?
From: Myrce
Yeah. What's up?
He paused a moment, unsure of exactly how to phrase his current predicament before deciding on the absolutely obvious.
To: Myrce
Mom's being a bitch.
From: Myrce
What's she gone and done now?
To: Myrce
Reduced my boyfriend to his illness, ignoring the fact that she'd go all mama-bear on anyone who did that to me.
From: Myrce
Wait, you and Jojen are official? That's awesome! I mean, not your mom being awful about it, but did you expect anything less.
To: Myrce
I guess not, but honestly I don't know where she gets off saying shit like that about people. The son of my dad's best friend, no less!
From: Myrce
She thinks she's doing what's best for you. You hear Petyr Baelish is back in town?
To: Myrce
He showed up right after I kissed Jojen.
From: Myrce
You kissed him?! Details!
There was a knock on his door.
To: Myrce
Can't talk now, I'll fill you in later.
A/N: The working title for this chapter was "If I Could Kill Petyr Baelish, I Would", but using it would have sacrificed the mystery.