Warning: Canon-compliant coarse language. Lots of swearing.
A/N: This took a little longer than planned. I spent most of the week arguing with my muse about something that I absolutely loved, but which only made sense if it had happened much earlier in the story. *sigh* I finally had to leave it on the cutting room floor. *pouts*
Fourteen
They drive in tense silence back to Castle Black only to discover all the bars in town are already closed.
"Want to try and find an after-hours club?" Jaime says, half-hoping she'll agree.
She grimaces. "I need a drink, not my ears blown out."
Gods, don't say 'blown', he thinks and his hands tighten on the steering wheel.
Things had been a little awkward as they powered down the facility but nothing he couldn't handle. In fact, Jaime had begun to think things were getting back to normal as they strolled to the car and he pulled out of the parking lot—and then Brienne nervously rubbed the palms of her hands up and down the length of her long, ultra-toned thighs—and Jaime suddenly remembered how those endless legs felt wrapped round the other Jaimes' waists, and his immediate, intense arousal made him grit his teeth so tightly he half-expected to hear his jaw crack. His body hasn't calmed one iota during the short drive. His mind boggles from the absurdity of it all even as he's so completely aware of the woman beside him—every movement, every expression, every time she nibbles on that plumply seductive bottom lip—he's amazed he hasn't driven them into the ditch. The very fact he's using a phrase like 'plumply seductive'—is that even a thing?—makes him want to bang—pound—godsdamn—hit—ohgods!—have his forehead repeatedly meet the steering wheel with great force.
Drinks.
He needs drinks.
Lots of them.
Preferably in the safety of an after-hours club with lots of people to distract him.
He has a sudden mental image of him and Brienne in the semi-dark of a club where the music is throbbing—gods—pounding—godsfucking—pulsating—godsfuckingshitgodsdamnit!—where the drums and bass are...doing...things, and he honestly believes he's going to literally die of sexual frustration at any moment.
"Jaime?"
He starts, and shoots her a lightning glance. "Sorry," he mutters, then clears his throat. "Sorry. Just trying to think where we can get a drink if an after-hours club is out."
"Well, we still have what's left of the whiskey."
"My place or yours?" he says then grimaces. "Sorry."
She's bright red and he is going to die, and he abruptly looks away.
"No, no," she says hastily. "It's okay. How about we just...forego the drink and go to b—I mean...let's just call it a night."
"Good idea," he mutters, although if he wasn't so tense, he'd be pleased that she's at least having some trouble with her words, too.
*/*/*/*/*
Jaime parks the car and they walk in taut silence to the hotel, the whiskey bottle casually swinging in Jaime's hand. Striding beside him, Brienne is intensely aware of Jaime's casual grace, of every line of his legs and shoulders as he moves, of every flex in the firm shape of his ass that's far too clearly outlined in those sinfully snug jeans, and she desperately tries not to remember how arrogantly beautiful the other Jaimes had looked when they were as naked as their namedays.
They step into the elevator and the silence between them stretches thin. Brienne hears their rapid, shallow breathing, notes the tightness in Jaime's shoulders as he repeatedly shoots heated glances in her direction, and for a wild moment she sees herself shoving him against the elevator wall and finding out if her Jaime's kisses are as intoxicating as Mad Jon Jaime's, or as unexpectedly sweet as Prince Jaime's.
She can almost hear the snaps as the buttons of his shirt fly off as she rips it open, can almost feel his muscled chest beneath the flattened palms of her hands as she greedily devours his mouth—she gulps and realizes she's staring at him…and he's staring back, his eyes wide and dark and burning.
She sways towards him, thinking she won't be able to stop herself if he doesn't stop looking at her like that, Taena bedamned.
It's the thought of Jaime's significant other that has her abruptly straightening, pressing her back against the elevator wall, gripping the railing behind her, and fixing her gaze on the far-too-slowly changing floor numbers. She's practically panting, almost whining, but she can't bring herself to care. She tightens her grip on the railing and prays to every god she can think of that the doors open before her self-control breaks.
As if in answer to her prayer, the elevator pings for her floor. The doors slowly slide open and in one swift move she grabs the whiskey from Jaime's hand and bolts for her room.
*/*/*/*/*
Brienne slams the door behind her and leans her back against it, and wonders if she's going to be the first woman in history to be confirmed as dying from spontaneous human combustion.
She staggers on trembling legs to collapse on the bed. She uncaps the whiskey, takes a small swig, and tries to will her body to calm down.
Impossible to do when her Jaime had looked at her like...like…
She closes her eyes and groans.
The look in her Jaime's eyes had been even more intense than the look in Mad Jon Jaime's. While Prince Jaime had been kind and there was a degree of passion there, it was nothing compared to Mad Jon Jaime's efforts. She can still feel his fingers, gripping at her hips, his mouth on her breasts, his cock—
She abruptly sits up, heat prickling at her nerve endings all over her body.
And her Jaime's eyes had promised something even better, if for no other reason than because it would be her.
She breaks into a sweat and hastily takes another gulp of whiskey.
Shower, she thinks desperately. Yes. Shower. The coldest shower she can stand.
*/*/*/*/*
Jaime leans against the wall of his shower and lets the cold water pour over him.
He could have taken care of his aching cock another way, he supposes; he has plenty of memories and images now to for things to go quickly, but for some reason, the very idea just seems…wrong. But gods—gods—if they return to those universes and there's more fucking, well…it's very possible that at some point, he's going to orgasm along with his counterpart and that's just not something he thinks his Brienne—Brienne Prime—will appreciate…although considering the way she was looking at him in the elevator…
He half-laughs, half-groans as he moves more fully beneath the icy torrents of water.
This is so utterly ridiculous and so beyond anything he was expecting to happen when he agreed to work with Brienne on these experiments. Besides, he's a physicist, for gods' sake! He never thought he'd ever have to warn a female colleague that he might have a literal orgasm instead of a metaphorical one during an experiment!
This takes being excited by science to an entirely inappropriate level.
He leans his still-heated forehead against the glass of his shower and lets the cold water to do its work.
*/*/*/*/*
The morning is easier, although they agree to forego their usual workout together in favor of packing and getting to the airport.
The flight back to King's Landing is cordial, if a little cool and awkward, but they focus on working through the data on their own computers and when they land, they smile and wave and go their separate ways.
Brienne picks Pod up from the kennel and walks into her house with a sigh of relief.
*/*/*/*/*
Jaime walks in to Tyrion's house to find his brother and some long-legged brunette woman fucking on the couch.
He sighs and heads to the basement and thinks he really needs to start house hunting.
*/*/*/*/*
Jaime and Brienne text each other the next day, agree to take a couple days off, and make arrangements to meet at the lab after that.
Jaime's relieved but he knows things are going to remain awkward until he and Brienne talk about what they experienced and their physical reactions to it. That conversation is going to be almost as awkward as the past few hours.
Still…they're professionals, for the sake of the Seven, and they're friends. They can handle a little sexual stimulation without it having to be weird.
Well.
Weird all the time, anyway.
Besides, he knows they're going to return to those universes—somehow, someway, and sooner rather than later, even if he has to throw half of the Lannister fortune at whatever scientists are standing in their way—and they need to learn how to deal with this situation if it happens again.
He's also kind of pissed that the excitement of their scientific discoveries has been overshadowed by excitement of a completely different kind. One that's simply—as he told himself while they were at the Wall—a perfectly natural physiological response to stimuli. It's not personal.
Besides, he wants to geek out with Brienne, his partner in all of this, about everything they've discovered and experienced, and they barely looked at each other on the plane or at the airport when they said good-bye. That pisses him off.
The door opens and he glances up to see Tyrion stumble in with another long-legged brunette woman on his arm.
Tyrion raises an eyebrow and Jaime just heaves a rueful sigh and says, "I was on my way out."
*/*/*/*/*
After texting with Jaime, Brienne goes to the gym she uses when Jaime can't meet for their usual work out, then she stops to pick up a bottle of the whiskey she'd stolen from him the other night.
She gasps at the price, and settles for a much cheaper brand that the store clerk assures her is still quite good. She also buys beer for the first time in years, mainly because it had tasted surprisingly good in the Farmer Brienne universe.
She gets home and putters round the house, takes Pod for a walk, then works for a while, e-mailing and talking with colleagues, reading new research, and half-heartedly starts looking at the data they generated during this last set of experiments. But she's restless and can't concentrate, and really...this is Jaime's experiment, too, and they should be working through the data together and arguing about what it all means.
It's why she agreed to work with him on these experiments in the first place, after all. He's arrogant and sometimes far too flippant, but she can't deny he makes her work for. and think through, and justify every theory and equation in a way no one else has ever done.
And...he makes it...fun.
It's just not right that they've allowed what happens to their counterparts impact how they work together, or how they act towards each other. Besides, it's not personal: it's just a natural, physical reaction to the memories that are in their brains when they return to their own universe. She's sure they wouldn't have been quite so…affected if the sex hadn't happened just as those particular experiments were ending and they immediately returned to themselves in the control room.
Brienne scowls at Pod, who looks up at her with melting brown eyes and thumps his straggly tail with a hopeful air.
"This is ridiculous," she says firmly. "We're professionals, and while I certainly have feelings that go beyond that, he definitely doesn't, and we've managed to work together quite well until now."
She frowns, tapping her foot, then nods. "Get your leash," she says.
Pod lets out a happy yip and scampers to where his leash is stored and carries it back to her, tail now wagging furiously.
She stuffs the whiskey and a couple bottles of beer into her backpack, snaps the leash onto Pod's collar then strides purposefully to the door.
She yanks it open and lets out a yip of her own—a startled one.
Jaime's just as surprised if his frozen stance is anything to go by. His hand is still half-raised towards the doorbell.
They gape at each other then Jaime says, "Oh. You're going out."
"I was going to see you."
Jaime slowly grins. "And this is why we're such a good team, Junior: great minds really do think alike."
*/*/*/*/*
Jaime is armed with his own bottle of whiskey and a six-pack of beer. They take Pod for a quick walk round the block, because even Jaime can't bring himself to disappoint the eager pup. When they return, they settle on the couch with two shot glasses and two slightly larger glasses on the coffee table in front of them. Jaime pours whiskey into the shot glasses while Brienne fills the other glasses with beer.
Jaime lifts his shot glass and says, "We need to have a blunt and honest talk about the auroch in the room."
She picks up her glass and nods. "The big auroch in the room."
Jaime grins. "I'm flattered," he purrs and she blushes even as she rolls her eyes.
"Not that big," she mutters and he bursts out laughing.
"Now that's the Junior I like to see," he says, clinks his glass against hers, and drinks his shot of whiskey.
*/*/*/*/*
Despite their intentions, they skirt round the auroch in the room, preferring instead to drink and talk about anything and everything except what they really need to discuss.
Brienne doesn't know how long they sit there, discussing Cersei's wedding in the Singer Jaime/Farmer Brienne universe, or arguing over whether to push the limits of the Wall even further by trying to extend their connection time to each universe for even longer, or watching Pod trying to get their attention and wriggling ecstatically as they scratch his ears and belly. All she knows is it's been dark outside for a while, they've finished Jaime's whiskey and most of the beer, and the room is pleasantly hazy.
"Look," Jaime says, rather sloppily, and she's relieved to see the beer and whiskey have taken their toll on him, too.
They're sprawled companionably on the couch, Pod snoring peacefully between them, and the room tilts in an alarming fashion when Brienne turns her head towards Jaime.
She's going to regret this in the morning. She always regrets this. But ever since they found themselves with the memories of different versions of themselves, drinking seems to be the most logical way to deal with...with...
She glances at Jaime's drunken face, and he's still gorgeous even though his face is slack and his eyes are glazed.
Most logical way to deal with everything.
And everything means everything.
"Brienne?"
She blinks through the alcoholic haze and scowls. "What?"
"Look...if things keep going the way they are in those universes, I'm worried that one of these times I'm going to…erm…embarrass myself—and you. You know the memories are...intense, especially when we first return to our own universe."
"I know," she mutters, and feels her own body heat up. She remembers that last elevator ride and flushes even more.
Jaime closes his eyes and sighs, his head lolling. "I'm going to have to think of something."
"Diapers," she mutters.
"What?"
"Diapers. Should catch any...um...involuntary expulsions of fluid, without showing anything."
Jaime's staring at her like she's speaking a different language.
Huh.
Language.
"How do we understand them?" she blurts out.
"What? Diapers?"
"No!" and she starts to giggle.
He grins, his eyes drooping sleepily as he watches her. "Good, because I think diapers are pretty self-explanatory."
She claps her hands over her mouth as she giggles even more.
"You're drunk, Jaime," she says and bursts into gales of laughter.
"You too," he mutters, his voice fading. She glances at him as her laughter dies away and sees his eyes are closed, his breathing steady and deep.
She shakes her head as she unsteadily forces herself to her feet. She makes her way to her hall closet and returns with a blanket.
"You're such a lightweight," she whispers fondly as she tucks the blanket round him.
Jaime grabs her hand with lightning speed and his grin is sleepily albeit drunkenly wicked. "Not as lightweight as all that," he whispers and winks. "Diapers?"
She nods mutely and Jaime squeezes her hand before letting it go.
He says, "It'll still be embarrassing if I'm calling your name."
"Well, I'll probably be calling yours, too," she says and is rewarded by his eyes popping wide open. "What?" she says as she straightens, swaying a little. "Did you think orgasms are only for men?"
She turns and staggers down the hall to her bedroom, Pod at her heels, and thinks she hears Jaime curse as she closes the door behind her.
*/*/*/*/*
He doesn't even bother taking his clothes off before he steps into the cold, cold shower.
*/*/*/*/*
Brienne decides not to ask when she finds the sodden mass of clothes crumpled on the floor of her shower in the morning. She just tosses the deliciously tousled, obviously naked, gorgeously infuriating man a pair of her sweats and puts his clothes in the washer.
*/*/*/*/*
She almost doesn't offer him a t-shirt.
*/*/*/*/*
"You should probably call Taena," she says as she makes breakfast. Her stomach twists at the thought of the dark-eyed beauty, but whether from guilt or jealousy, she really can't say. "She'll be wondering where you are."
"Taena?"
She turns and frowns at his puzzled tone. "The woman you live with?" she says. "Come on, Jaime, even you can't push the absent-minded-professor thing that far!"
Jaime looks honestly confused then his expression clears. "Right. I haven't told you yet."
"Told me what yet?"
"I caught Taena fucking a Kettleblack."
Brienne's eyes slowly widen as her mouth sags open. Jaime raises an eyebrow as he sips his coffee.
A million thoughts fly through Brienne's head and she settles for, "Which one?"
"Does it matter? They're all alike."
"Useless," they say together and Brienne bites her bottom lip to keep from laughing. It's really not funny.
"I'm sorry," she says, and means it. "When did this happen?"
"When we got back from Castle Black the first time. Turns out getting home early can be very illuminating."
"So...when you went to the Summer Isles...?"
"Me, Tyrion and the cab driver who drove me home. Turns out he, too, was unlucky in love."
She frowns. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because it hurt," he says, looking away. "And I didn't want it to be real. And it was too close—both in time and the person—to what happened to Megastar Jaime. And..." He glances back at her and gives her a helpless shrug. "It's complicated."
*/*/*/*/*
After breakfast, they take Pod for a long walk, then return to Brienne's house and she pulls up the data on her computer. Jaime sits next to her as they peer intently at the screen, discussing every pattern or anomaly they see.
The sun is setting and Pod sitting, looking hopeful, by the door when they break, and after they take him for another walk, they return and Brienne makes supper.
"Do you think we need more data?" Brienne says as they sit at the table to eat.
Jaime raises an eyebrow. "Don't you?"
"Yes," she says, "if for no other reason…" She nervously bites her lower lip, then shrugs. "Is this science? Or is it magic?"
"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic," Jaime says with a grin. "But seriously, Brienne: first soul mates, now magic? Be careful or we'll rescind your license to science."
Brienne rolls her eyes. "You know the old legends as well as I do, Jaime," she persists, "and Castle Black is said to have been built on the foundations of the original Castle Black that was destroyed at the end of the Age of Magic."
Jaime snorts. "Age of Magic—please."
"Listen! What if there's some truth to those stories? Not magic, of course—that's ridiculous, I agree. But mayhaps we're able to see into these universes at the Wall because the—the barrier between universes is thinner or they're closer, or something."
Jaime looks thoughtful. "The only way to test that would be to repeat the experiment in other locations and see if we get different results."
Brienne's smile is slow and Jaime's eyes widen. "You've already booked time in another facility, haven't you?"
She nods smugly. "The Meereenese facility had a day free in its schedule, two weeks from now."
Jaime heaves a melodramatic sigh then grins. "Good work, Junior. And we didn't even have to bribe anybody."
*/*/*/*/*