Prompt from Tumblr anon, "Calm after a fight... or they got stranded indoors during a storm" I was thinking for stranded during a storm before, but I found that it was a little difficult to think of a good idea, so I went with calm after a fight :)
He cannot even begin to describe how he is feeling right now. He wants to say that he is angry, but the word does not seem powerful enough. No, he is furious, seething as he tries to hold back his temper. He can't though, and it doesn't help when his tiny, pint-size girlfriend starts yelling profane things at him. The rage only bubbles, boiling, until his blood runs hot. Perhaps it's the bastard blood in him that makes him act this way, but he cannot help but shout right back at Arya until they are both red in the face. She starts pushing him then, starts punching at his chest as she screams the words stupid and idiot repeatedly.
"What the fuck were you thinking, Gendry!" She yells, "Aegon is my friend and you don't lay a fucking hand on my friends."
"That little prick had more than friendship on his mind," he yells right back. He remembers how the stupid blue-haired punk approached Arya, how is stare lingered a little too long on places that were only meant for his eyes. He withheld himself at first, taking deep calming breaths to avoid any irrational behavior, but then the little prick put his hand on her knee, and suddenly everything went red. "He touched you Arya! No one gets to touch you but me!"
Her eyes narrow then, and if possible she looks even more furious then before. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" She exclaims. "No one gets to touch me, but you? I'm not your fucking property! Only I decide who gets to touch me, and right now I don't want any of your greasy fingers on me!"
Her proclamation hurt him more than she would ever know. He can't show her how much she's hurt him, so he starts yelling even louder. "Of course, I wouldn't want to taint m'lady with my dirty hands, now would I? I'm just a fucking bastard not worthy enough of being in the presence of m'lady high."
She blinks then, and her mouth parts in shock. "That's not what I meant," she states softly, her voice suddenly sounding small.
"Of course that's what you meant, Arya" he screams. "I see it, Aegon Targaryen fucking sees it, everyone sees it! I'm not worthy enough for you! I don't come from a good family, I'm not rich, I never even finished high school. Stuff like that matters in the real world, you might not see it now, but your family sure does. They hate me, Arya. They don't want you to end up with some twenty-five year old loser, who works as a mechanic, and lives in a shitty apartment. No, they want to see you with someone like Aegon fucking Targareyn, who can buy you anything you want from his family's fucking money, and can give your parents proper and pristine little grandchildren."
He crumbles then, burying his face into his hands as he plummets down into the sofa. He doesn't want her to see him cry, but he cannot choke back the sobs that escape from his lips. "I'm not good enough for you," he repeats, "Aegon can give you everything that I can't."
He feels the couch shift a bit, when she sits beside him. He still can't look at her, and his face remains buried in hands. He can feel her presence though, and her touch when she moves to stroke his back. She lets him sit there for a moment, the silence dissipating all the anger, leaving him feeling the emotions he's been trying to burry all along; sadness, jealousy, helplessness. He doesn't want her to leave him, but someday he is afraid that she is going to finally realise how pathetic he truly is, and leave him for someone more deserving- like Aegon.
"They don't" she states, finally breaking the silent.
He looks up at her then, catching her steely grey gaze. "What?" he asks, bewildered by her statement.
"My family," she repeats as she bites on her lower lip, "they don't hate you." He looks at her, with utter confusion flashing across his features. He doesn't interrupt her though, so she continues. "Robb and Jon, they like you. I know they sometimes give you a hard time, threatening to chop off your balls or sick Grey Wind and Ghost on you, but they like you. They're just being stupid older brothers, giving a hard time to any guy who sends a second glance my way. But... well they see how happy you make me, and I haven't been happy in a really long time, so yes Gendry, they like you. Sansa is just happy that I'm with someone. She was convinced that I was going to adopt 42 cats and live with them in a cramped, little, studio apartment."
Gendry cannot help but snicker at that, imagining Arya with 42 cats. "Don't laugh" she proclaims, as she sends a playful thwack along his stomach. "Before I met you, I actually considered doing it. I had names and everything! I could have named one Nymeria after the Queen of Rhoynar. I learned about her in history class, she was supposed to be this super bad ass warrior. But, I suppose it wouldn't have worked out, I'm more of a dog person. Bran and Rickon also like you, you know that. You're always so good to them."
Arya smiles, as she shifts closer to him, laying her head in his lap. He can't stop his fingers from weaving themselves in her hair, stroking the brown locks lovingly. "That just leaves mother. I'm not going to lie, she's probably the only person who would rather see me with someone like Edric Dayne, but I don't care. I'm my own person and I'm going to do as I please. Besides," she states, her voice growing soft, "I think father would have liked you. He was the only person who saw me for who I truly was. He let me join sports teams, much to the displeasure of my own mother, and he signed me up for fencing lessons. If he was still alive, I know he would have loved you as much as I do."
His hand stills and he can feel his heart beating harder than ever. "What did you just say?" he asks.
Arya stills then, as she replays her last sentence through her mind. He has told her countless times how much he loves her, but he's never heard the words back. It had bothered him a bit, his heart aching with the possibility that the girl he's given his heart too would never find it in her to love him back. But he's never said anything, from fear of scaring her and pushing her away. But now that he's heard her say it... well he just can't un hear it. He needs the confirmation more desperately than ever.
She gets up from his lap, only to get back on a second later when she moves to straddle him. Her thighs lie outside of his own, and she moves her hands to cradle his face. "I love you," she states with such conviction that he just might burst. "I love you, Gendry. So don't you even think about being stupid again and punching some random guy just because, you think he's making a move on me. Anyone can do or say whatever they want, but in the end it will always be you that I want." He smiles then, his crooked one that Arya loves so much. "Oh and if you ever tell anyone that I just got mushy, I'll sick Ghost and Grey Wind on you, myself."
He swallows her threats with his mouth, kissing her soft pink lips. She eagerly responds, thrusting her tongue inside to lick the roof of his mouth. He carries her back to bed, kneading the soft flesh of her thighs as he lifts her.
When they have sex this time it is different. There is no urgency, no roughness. Skin does not slap against skin, and they do not scream each other's names. They move together, in tandem, and when they peak it is the best feeling in the world. He realises this is what making love is, they've never done anything else before but fuck.
After they are both spent, she lies down in bed, her eyes already fluttering close from exhaustion. He wraps her arms around her waist, bringing her bare back flush against his chest. He lies there for a moment, watching her sleep as he appreciates the tranquility of this moment. For the first time in a while, he isn't angry, isn't jealous, isn't apprehensive. He knows that she will be there for him, no matter how stupid he acts, he knows that she loves him.
He lets his eyes close then, appreciating the scent of the girl nested to him. He falls into a long dreamless sleep, still unable to rid himself of the smile that flashes across his face. For the first time, in a long time, he is calm.