It's Arya's birthday party, and there are surprises in store... and presents.
Arya woke up excited, like she always had on her birthday. Thankfully, somewhere along the line she had stopped waking up at five am. She glanced at the clock and saw it was half past eight. It was a Saturday, so she didn't have to get up for school, but she still silently slipped downstairs in her pyjamas and poured herself a glass of orange juice. She sat on a barstool and looked out of the French windows at the garden. They were lucky. It was a lovely day.
At nine, the postman came, and she got up to see what he had brought. There were a couple of cards, two small parcels and a bill for her parents. She took the pile back into the kitchen, and found Bran and Rickon waiting for her. Bran, sixteen years old, was sitting sleepily on a stool, nursing a mug of coffee, but eleven-year-old Rickon was almost as excited as Arya, and leapt up when she came in. She embraced her littlest brother, though he wriggled and protested, and then came up behind Bran and cuddled him too.
'Happy birthday, Arya,' he said drowsily, although she knew he was up every weekday at six to get some rock-climbing in before school.
A more shrill voice wished her a happy birthday too as she came into the kitchen, and Sansa hugged Arya tightly. 'Eighteen at last!' she cried.
As soon as Ned and Catelyn arrived in their dressing gowns, she started opening presents. She was a little sad that Jon wasn't there, but he had to work- and she supposed she should get used to it. He'd be back for the party anyway.
...
At eleven o'clock Gendry was woken by a phone call to the landline. He missed it the first time, in his semi-conscious state, but just caught it on the second ring.
'Hello?' he said groggily.
'Gendry, you'd better be up,' said Arya warningly from the other end.
'Yeah, sure,' he said, clearing his throat away from the receiver, 'I'm just... Doing my hair.'
'Liar. I woke you up, didn't I?' she said.
'Yeah... You caught me,' he answered, smiling.
'Well get dressed! Robb's picking you up in an hour!' she commanded.
'Sir, yessir,' he replied jokingly, 'Wait... What should I wear?'
'Smart casual... Like, a shirt and nice trousers,' she said. Arya may have known nothing about fashion, but she knew more than Gendry.
'Ok. I assume you're wearing the same?' he said. Arya loved to wear men's clothes, and he often found his shirts and goodies missing.
'Ha ha, no. Sansa's making me wear a dress,' she replied bitterly.
Gendry said goodbye and smiled to himself as he got in the shower. He couldn't quite explain why, but he loved seeing Arya in a dress.
...
At ten past twelve, Robb and Jeyne arrived with Gendry. The family were all running around trying to get everything ready for the guests, who weren't due to arrive until half past, but they refused to let Arya help. Every time she made to get up, somebody would stop her and tell her to relax.
Gendry was the only other who was exempt. He came to sit with her.
'Happy birthday,' he said, almost shyly.
'Thanks,' she replied, smiling.
'Look, Arya,' he said, in a serious tone, putting his hand into his pocket and wriggling around, 'I want to give this to you before everyone else gets here.'
He held out a small parcel to her, wrapped in tacky paper and with a small label on it that read, To Arya, Love Gendry. She took it from his hands.
'Thank you, Gendry,' she smiled, and started to unwrap it. Inside was a plain box, which she slipped the lid off. She pulled out a leather cord with a tiny charm on it, a little metal wolf.
'I made it myself,' he said softly, looking at the necklace looped around her fingers rather than her face, 'It's a bit clumsy but I wanted to give you something personal, and I knew wolves are your favourite animal, so...'
He trailed off. She wasn't saying anything, and he instantly regretted giving it to her. It was crappy and cheap, and she undoubtedly had loads of much prettier, more expensive jewellery from her family. She wouldn't want to wear a sentimental hunk of metal given to her by some creeper friend of her cousin's.
'Oh, Gendry,' she murmured, and he looked up to see her smiling, with slightly shining eyes, 'I love it.'
He beamed with pride. 'Really?'
'Yes, of course! It's lovely!' she said, grinning back at him, and she leant forward to hug him tightly, her arms weaving around his neck. Gendry's hands sat firmly on her waist, pulling her a little closer. She made a funny little noise.
'I'm falling,' she said in a light voice, and Gendry felt her weight dropping heavier onto him, and then the barstool she was perched on slipped away behind her, and she was fully in his arms, wetting herself laughing.
'Arya, what have you done now?' asked Sansa, coming in from the garden.
'I fell!' she replied, laughing, and then the doorbell rang and Sansa went to answer it.
...
The party was good fun, even though Arya didn't have many friends to invite, and Gendry managed to avoid the Baratheons all night. He just followed Jon around really, not really knowing anyone else except Arya, who was busy being paraded around to everyone. By eight o'clock most people had left, and Catelyn and Ned were inside, having drinks with the Baratheons and the Tyrells. Jon was busy chatting with a flame-haired girl, his girlfriend Ygritte, and Gendry sat down alone under a tree, sipping an ice-cold beer. It was a warm day, and the sun was just setting. From there, he could see the golden-lilac sky, and cool down a little. He leant back against the tree and let out a deep happy sigh.
'Well that was horrible,' said Arya, coming to sit beside him. She splayed out her legs alongside his, long and bare, and then took off her shoes. They were strappy high-heeled sandals, and her feet were red and bruised from them.
'Don't say you didn't enjoy your own birthday party,' Gendry said, softly teasing. He tipped his head to the side to look at her.
'Oh, it was alright,' she said, meeting his eyes, 'I would rather have spent it with you though.'
'I'm not that interesting, am I?' he asked, smiling. In the orange sunset, her eyes shone, and her velvety, dusky hair was swept over one shoulder. Her dress was black and low-cut, studded with diamantes. It was the cocktail dress of an older woman, but Arya looked incredible.
'You're better than my grandparents,' she sighed, 'The Tullys don't half go on about my 'duty to do well at school'.'
Gendry's smile stilled. He was still happy, but she was looking at him so intensely with those powerful grey eyes that it took his breath away.
'Oh, you're wearing my necklace,' he said softly, reaching over to touch the charm. He was pleased that she liked it, and it made him so proud to have a part of him on her.
'I don't know if I said this,' she murmured in a slightly husky voice, 'But it's perfect.'
Gendry couldn't tear his gaze from her face. She was illuminated by the setting sun from behind, and the outside, loose hairs on her head were gold-tinged. They were behind the shed, he thought dangerously, no one could see them.
But Arya acted first. She moved just an inch closer and he filled in the gap, molding her lips to his like her life depended on it. Her eyes were open, inquisitive, questioning, until he put a warm hand to the side of her face, and another on her slender waist, and she sighed into him. Her fingers raked faint lines on his chest over his broad muscles, and she wriggled roughly to get closer until she was on top of him, straddling his lap. Her kisses were firey, like everything she did, repeated strokes that made Gendry hotter and hotter. She ran her hands along the waistband of his trousers, and then changed her mind. She worked up his shirt, unfastening his buttons with impressive speed, and then he sat up a little to curl out of the shirt. Her breasts, small but pert, pressed hard against his chest, and he let out the tiniest of involuntary groans. She slowed down, gradually, until she planted one final, long, steamy kiss on his lips.
She opened her eyes and grinned at him, and then rolled off. She lay alongside him, their legs tangled, her feet only just reaching past his knees. Her head lay on his chest, next to one palm. All of Gendry's heat centred on that palm, and to distract himself he looked down at the crown of her head and started counting hairs.
She stirred when someone shouted her name across the garden. She sat up abruptly and moved further from him, and tidied her hair. A girl came around the corner of the tree, about twenty years old and pretty in a sort of mysterious way.
'Oh, Arya, there you are,' she said, raising an eyebrow at Gendry's shirtlessness, 'We're just heading off now.'
'Oh, ok, Margaery, I'll come in,' Arya said, hoisting herself to her feet and following Margaery away. She was barefoot.
Gendry was left there in the shade of the tree, the imprint of her hot lips still resting on his skin.
A/N: SQUEEEEE I WAS SO HAPPY WHEN I WROTE THIS. But this isn't over yet! There are a fair few more chapters yet, and I think I can squeeze most of them out before I go on holiday... hmm...
