The Adventures of Super Jock and Awkward Girl
A/N ~ Well did you think I was going to let the fluff last forever. Also I am slightly concerned to realize that I am basically a cross between Lyanna in this fic and Brienne in this fic. I'm writing Cersei picturing Lena's voice. Anyone else?
Disclaimer ~ I ask Katniss, I am George R R Martin, real or not real? She hits me over the head and replies, not real.
Coming Up… Cersei is drunk again, Jaime makes a gesture over which Lyanna goes crazy, Catelyn is cool, Nedlyn is life, Renly is Not Welcome, Jaime is totally not jealous, and it possible that evil twins actually do exist. Find out in The Adventures of Super Jock and Awkward Girl
21.Date Night Reprise
When Jaime walked into Science class the next day, Brienne greeted him far more nicely than she had ever done before, staring levelling at him as he unloaded his textbooks and chewed, once-expensive pens. "I am going to kill you."
Jaime considered. "I've got my hand back now, good luck trying. What brought this on again?" He rifled through his bag, plonking his science book on the desktop and plonking himself down in the stupid plastic chair. It was odd to think, he'd sat here beside her, furiously, embarrassedly, happily, awkwardly, hatefully, and now friendly. Ly. Friendlily? Was that a word? He was Jaime fucking Lannister. He could carry it.
"Because the moment you left my house, Jaime, my father turned to me and asked me if you were my boyfriend. Then he said you were very handsome, and told me to be careful. Then he asked why you don't come over more."
Maybe because it was the longest thing she had ever said to him in a fluent string of words, or maybe because she was still absurdly gauche around, well, everyone, Jaime almost felt bad as he laughed. When Lyanna Stark came through the door, on her way to sling her bag down beneath her desk, she winked, biting down on her lip and holding up an in no way subtle, very over-the-top double thumbs up. Then she dropped down into her seat and Brienne's chair shuffled awkwardly further away from him (or maybe Lyanna) (He couldn't really tell.)
Jaime was in such a good mood, what with the hand and all, that he didn't even go over at hit her over her stupid blue-haired head with a rolled up paper on igneous rock formation. (Rhaegar would've probably beaten him to death with his violin.) (But it would have totally been worth it.)
So yes, he was in a decent mood. Cersei had informed him when he returned from Tea With The Tarths, as if she ought to be the centre of everybody's worlds, that she had been sober for 'a while'. He didn't dare ask what 'a while' meant, but he was glad of it. Tyrion had cheered him immensely this morning, with his choice comments; his classes weren't going so terribly. And his hand worked again. Fucking hells, it felt so good to use it, to scratch it when it itched, to stretch his fingers and not write like a retard, to not be treated like he was so useless.
And, at lunch, he made a proposition. (And struggled desperately not to over-think, over-worry about the consequences.)
He sat with Lyanna and Rhaegar, Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand; beneath the beating sun, the blue plastic of their football pitch-side picnic bench was warm. You'd have thought he'd feel like the ultimate third-wheel, eating there, opposite two sturdy couples. You'd have thought. Apparently non-stop admiration from every female (and the occasional male) specimen that passed by sort of softened that.
"So, Jaime, are you coming tonight?" Lya asked, in reference to absolutely nothing, completely focused on the French fry she held and its track through her revoltingly enormous puddle of tomato ketchup.
"Coming where?" Jaime countered cautiously. He knew to be wary where Lyanna-Stark-arranged-plans were considered.
"Coming to the Water Gardens." Rhaegar clarified, absently playing with the ends of Lyanna's dishevelled blue hair, head leant back toward the sunlight.
Jaime frowned, trying to place it. "That crappy cheap café by Spottswood Street, with all the fountains and shit?"
"That crappy café by Spottswood with all the fountains and shit." Ellaria nodded.
"And why would I want to go there?"
Lyanna looked at him like he was crazy. "Because we're all going there." It was half a rhetorical question and half a Stark outburst. "And because apparently it's like, the new place to be or whatever. And they do this lush blood orange cheesecake. Which I want to devour. Ask him." She jerked her head toward Oberyn, stuffing some more fries in her face.
"Doran got a job there, so he said every time I bring a bunch of my friends, he'll let us eat for half price." Oberyn informed him rather smugly. Then again, everything Oberyn Martell did was rather smug. (It was hardly like his brother's new job was due to some great act on his part.)
" Areo works there too now, doesn't he?" Ellaria asked. "Hotah."
"Yeah, I –"
"Oi, Catelyn!" Everyone turned to Lyanna, who her her salt-speckled hands cupped around her face and was shouting to what appeared to be Cat Tully, looking very, very annoyed. Her red hair was half fleeing it's braid, and she was striding, head firmly down, away from Littlefinger, who was chattering animatedly, eyes glinting in the sunlight, and apparently pursuing her. Pursuing a lost cause, Jaime thought. Stupid prick, always looking so superior, as if he knew things the rest of the normal people didn't. (Not that Jaime would stoop low enough to classify himself as normal.) (Normal people were not as fantastically talented or good-looking as he was.)
Cat turned and, muttering some final sharp words at Baelish, which left him looking a little disheartened, hastened over, leaning on the table. "Yeah? You'll have to excuse my stalker." She shot a final glance over her shoulder at Petyr Baelish, who was evidently just standing there and staring at her. She fumbled around in the pockets of her blue cardigan and dug out her phone, checking the time and then replacing it.
"Cat, I could always talk to him if you ever needed me to, decreepify him, if you will," Rhaegar offered guilelessly, glaring at the kid who still bore a faint black eye from his incident with Brandon at Highgarden Manor. "I think he's getting worse."
"Or, I could just do this," Lyanna proffered, standing up on the bench attached to the table and waving her arms over her head. "Oi, pervert!" She yelled, loud enough that almost everybody who was wandering, or eating their lunch on the bleachers or the grassy patches beside the pitch turned and stared. "Why don't you get a life, you little shit, and STOP OGLING MY FRIEND'S ASS BEFORE WE ALL PITCH IN TO GET YOU A FUCKING RESTRAINING ORDER!"
Jaime laughed out loud, and Oberyn snorted so hard he very nearly forgot to pat the choking-on-her-diet-Coke Ellaria hard on the back. He had never liked Starks, but this was sort of redeeming them. Not because he liked Catelyn Tully, or actually was even close to being friends with her – which he really was not; they'd only really known each other through both being in the extensive popular crowd – but because he'd spent his whole life taking Petyr Baelish down a peg or five, and it was nice when other people put in the same effort.
Rhaegar, grinning despite himself, tugged the hem of his girlfriend's frayed board shorts until she dropped back down beside him, and he kissed her quickly to shut her up. Jaime glanced toward Catelyn, who just looked bemused and sort of relieved. "Thank you." She said, as if that settled the matter precisely how she's wanted it settled. Lyanna nodded mock-modestly. "Anyway, you wanted something?"
"Yep. Are you going up the Water Gardens tonight?" Lyanna inquired, perfectly ordinary.
Cat hesitated and then said, a little apprehensively, "I am. Doran and Hotah work there – Ellaria, you said there'd be a friend discount, right?"
"Half price for all brought by Oberyn, so… Rope everyone in." Ellaria confirmed, settling back against Martell.
"Ok, great, thanks." Cat said, making sure Petyr Baelish was well and truly vanished before she sat down and withdrew a paper-bagged wrap from her bag. Absurdly, Jaime noticed that it was quite an annoying, girly bag, and that girls should just have normal bags, like, for a random example, the one that Brienne Tarth used. (Then he noticed the I Am Sherlocked patch sewn to the side of it and decided Catelyn wasn't actually all that bad.)
"Who're you bringing then?" Oberyn inquired, with that every so slight tilt of the head and raise of the eyebrow that made Jaime think he contained important information.
Catelyn focused primarily on the lettuce in poking out of her unwrapped wrap. "A – friend." She finished, so formally he was certain she had to be lying. Or whatever the word was for the opposite of exaggerating. Downplaying.
"Oh, snap." Lyanna enunciated, with that sort of light flickering to life behind her eyes that Jaime often associated with the light bulb moment in the cartoons he watched when he was braindead and half-asleep on a Sunday morning.
Rhaegar turned to her, enraptured. "What?" He tried, fondly.
Lya turned her look, sparkling and… something, on Catelyn. This whole conversation was making Jaime feel quite uncomfortable. Like everyone was under the banal belief that they all needed to bring somebody to this little get-together. Oberyn and Ellaria. Lyanna and Rhaegar, Catelyn and Somebody. "Oh, snap. Fucking hells. You're coming with my little brother, aren't you?"
Jaime and.
"Yes. And quite frankly, I don't see what the problem with it is. It's not like Eddard and I are a couple, it's not weird, Brandon and I used to be together and now we're not and with all the time I've spent at your house, Ned and I have just so happened to become friends. He's a lovely person, I don't see why we shouldn't be." Catelyn clarified, glancing about in a way that dared anyone to challenge her. Cat Tully was no Lya Stark when it came to addressing matters, but so was anybody who wasn't stupid bordering on brainless. The girl had balls. In a way, she was scarier than Lyanna. Because she was all storm, but more subtlety.
(No. Nobody was scarier than Lyanna.)
"So you are not a couple?" Oberyn smirked. "How would you feel about Ashara Dayne making eyes at him, then?"
Jaime could have laughed at how alert Tully grew at that, like a dog with a bone waved over it's red head. "I am not restricting Ned in any way from chasing after Ashara Dayne. But he wouldn't anyway, because he has far too much self respect."
"And Ashara's a stupid, cheerleading little whorebag?" Lyanna prompted, purely for Catelyn's sake, because Ashara Dayne was none off those things. Apart from cheerleading. And little. And she wasn't actually the most intelligent. Whatever. Jaime wondered what the point of this all was? Attempting to provoke Cat into admitting she was taking Ned Stark, her ex-boyfriend's brother on what they would make a triple date. A triple date, and Jaime.
"And Ashara's a stupid cheerleading little whorebag." Catelyn confirmed, voice all flames.
He was the hottest one. Since when was he the spare prick at the wedding? No. Fuck, no. It was not a triple date and Jaime. He would not let it be. He'd just not go, if he had to. No! It was just friends. Just a group of friends hanging out. Well, a group of friends and Ned Stark, who he would never learn to tolerate. Rhaegar and Oberyn laughed, high fiving across Ellaria.
"So yes, I will be bringing Eddard. Which there is absolutely no reason at all to judge. Is there?" Catelyn demanded. "Is there?"
They all lurched into simultaneous terrified denials of no, and not at all, and Jaime wasn't entirely sure how much of their fear was mockery. Then Lyanna piped up, through a mouthful of Rhaegar's sauce-mopped burger and Jaime very nearly lashed out at her. "We're not judging. I mean, Jaime should probably be bringing Brienne Tarth, so, you know."
Oberyn raised his hand far above his head. "The giantess?"
Jaime felt himself turning scarlet, from fury or from – no, Gods no, what else would it be, what else could it be? He composed himself however, giving Lyanna a look of haughty derision. "Yes, Oberyn, that is who she is, and no Lyanna, she will not be accompanying me anywhere. I'm going alone. Might be some girls there. I wouldn't want to give anybody the wrong impression." Stupid stubborn brave ugly footballer, always elbowing her way into conversations (and sometimes thoughts) (and dreams) that she really shouldn't be
Lyanna actually laughed out loud. "Fucking hell you spoilt princess!" Rhaegar choked on his soda water bottle then, and Lyanna whacked him on the back with her Gears of War bag before continuing. "You can deny it all you want to, but shove you two in a room together and there's practically steam coming out the chimney. If it has a chimney. I don't care, you two have chemistry now, man. Like, dude."
Jaime opened his mouth, more disgruntled than angry, as he would have been a few months ago, but Rhaegar cut him off, to his shock. "While my girlfriend really needs to stop doing that, and I don't feel the need to pressure anyone into something that doesn't exist, I have to say during the camping trip I did actually seriously think you and Brienne might have had a little… thing."
"Oh, yeah, of course, my type is freckles and football boots." Jaime tried to brush them off, but apparently once these idiots were onto something… He rolled his eyes, but good-naturedly. He was in a good mood, not really offended. It was only light banter, after all. Everyone gave their friends a hard time. (Didn't they?) (Didn't they?)
"Jaime Lannister, I'll just add in here that I find it incredibly offensive and fucking stupid that you would define a person being your type by the way they look." Catelyn added sternly, almost, hiding a smile. "I have Med Lit with Brienne and once you get past the general quiet she's very nice."
"They say it's the shy ones who do more." Oberyn put in, cheerily and vastly unhelpfully. Ellaria smacked him on the arm and he kissed her, to make sure everything was okay.
Ellaria too was looking far to sly for Jaime's liking. It was a look his sister wore on occasion. (And by occasion, he meant daily.) (Hourly, really.) (Her diabolical plans, possibly for world domination, were really just increasing.) She stretched out her arms to reach for her bottle of water, coyly twisting the cap off and focusing nonchalantly on that while she spoke, slowly and deliberately. "And I'm almost certain she's with the soccer guy. Hyle, isn't it?"
"No." Jaime snapped, immediately. He had the suspicious feeling that that was a big strike in the general idiotic direction these morons were attempting to lead him, and yet he couldn't quite figure out why. Was that supposed to make him jealous? Was Hyle fucking Hunt meant to be the Ashara Dayne to his Cat Tully? Because frankly that was useless. And stupid. And stupidly useless. Because Ashara Dayne had been making eyes at Ned Stark, heavens knew why. But Hyle Hunt was not, repeat not, with Brienne Tarth. They were friends. Sort of. Only. Barely that. Fuck.
"Touchy subject?" Oberyn tried, at the same time Lyanna made an oooh sound, Ellaria looked exceedingly pleased with herself, Rhaegar said 'You answered that rather hastily' and Catelyn just looked at him almost piteously.
"What? What? Hyle Hunt is not with Brienne. And if he ever felt anything for her beyond pity-friendship, she'd be smart enough to realize he's a fucking dick and turn him away." Jaime thought his words were alright, but apparently he'd said something that made everyone exchange a smug look.
"Jaime, it's okay." Rhaegar assured him, pointedly patronizing. "There are none of your idiot, self-loving friends who hate everyone who isn't them around here. No Robert Baratheons or Arthur Daynes or Gerold Hightowers who'd outcast you forever if they found out about the electricity between you and a medieval literature student – Cat and I are those ourselves. Just us. Where you can speak the truth."
"Fuck you." Jaime articulated.
Then Lyanna let out a triumphant yelp and grabbed the timetable in front of her, screwing it up into a ball and launching it, hard and overhand, to the right of their little table in the sunlight. Jaime followed it's hurtle and pretended to slit his throat with his plastic knife when everyone caught onto the fact Lya had just thrown a paper ball at the subject of their supposed discussion as she passed by. Why was it he felt like he was the only one not benefitting from this? Brienne turned around, confused, hand on her bag strap. "Yeah?"
"Hey," Lyanna said hastily, before leaving no seconds before plunging on. "Do you want to come to the Water Gardens with us lot as Jaime's unofficial date tonight?"
"None of Jaime's regular friends, so no judgement." Rhaegar assured her.
Brienne looked perplexed, apparently attempting to figure out whether this was some sort of fun new joke or whether her blue-haired student captain was actually for real. Ellaria snorted. Catelyn gave a pleasant little hey and a nod which Brienne didn't notice. Jaime just felt a twinge of guilt.
He gave a shrewd, tight glare at his 'friends', which they all acknowledged rather pleasantly and stood, taking Brienne over to the side by her arm, a few feet away from the table of mental people.
"What's happening?" Brienne asked thickly.
"Oh, Lyanna Stark has gotten the absurd notion in her head that there is something going on between us. In that respect, I think she'd get along well with your father. Would you like to come to the Water Gardens café with me tonight so I can prove them well and truly wrong?" Jaime proposed, quite pleasantly he thought, for him. Not a sarcastic word or a cuss in there at all.
Brienne stared at him, then, confusing giving way to a struggle in her eyes. They really were an astonishing blue, like skies and seas and socks and cereal packets. That kind of blue. "Jaime, I…"
"Brienne, it's Rhaegar and Eddard Stark. They weren't lying, no idiots." He tried a smile, for once, entangled in the moment. She still hesitated. He sighed. "Look, give me your hand." Brienne gave him a rather offended stare instead. Jaime sighed again, grabbing her sprawling, freckled hand and fishing a blue ballpoint out of his jeans pocket. Then, he wrote, very clearly, his phone number across her palm. "Text me for times if you ever manage to find words instead of pulling your favourite goldfish expression." He smiled.
A yelp from behind him caught his eyes and he turned, annoyed, to see Lyanna falling from the bench she was trying to stand on, and then quickly throwing herself upright again, yelling, "Make out!" at them, quite loudly. Interrupting cow.
"Okay, Brienne, go, please, before my friends explode. Text me."
He turned away from her feeling absurdly pleased with himself, and as he sidled back onto the bench and felt five persistent, expectant gazes on him. He leaned back smugly for a second to enjoy it before picking again at the remainder of his lunch. "No, really, fuck you."
That afternoon, when Jaime had retreated to his bedroom post-school, pre-Water Gardens, to shower and change like, as Cersei put it, the girl he was, he received a text message from a number that he did not recognize. It failed to specify who the sender was, but he was pretty certain from the content that he didn't need to question it.
Jaime what the fuck happened earlier?
He rolled his eyes and sent back, Nice to talk to you too, you're totally welcome, I give my number out all the time.
Seriously, not funny. Came the reply.
Seriously, I wasn't joking!
His phone did not buzz with her reply for several long minutes. During which, Tyrion barged into his bedroom, and looked quite momentarily perplexed to see his elder brother sitting agitatedly on his bed, doing nothing but staring at the screen of his iPhone. Jaime glanced up, irritated. Why did people feel the need to talk to him all of a sudden? He had to get Brienne to come with them all, then shower and go, quickly, fucking hell. His phone vibrated in his palm and it took everything in him not to check it.
"What do you want?" Jaime demanded.
"A pleasure as always, brother." Tyrion smiled. "I did just want to know if you had seen a book I appear to have lost." He paused. "But now I want to know who's the reason you're looking at your phone like Robert Baratheon looks at cake, or our sister looks at Herbal Essences."
"I'm not looking at anything like that," He countered, taking great care to filter out the defensiveness from his voice. Frankly, he didn't know how it got there in the first place.
"Oh, come now. I thought we were closer than that." Tyrion went and sat down beside him on the bed, peering discreetly over at the screen of his phone. Jaime thanked all the gods he'd not yet saved her number in as a contact. Should his little brother see, gods forbid, a girls name on his phone he'd never let it go.
"Close the door." He commanded. Tyrion did not in any way attempt to obey. "I'm talking to a friend." Jaime explained subtly. A friend. Ooh. That was a step up. "A friend who is reluctant to come to the Water Gardens café with me and my other friends in a minute."
"This friend – female?"
Jaime considered. "Probably. I'm looking into it."
Tyrion grinned his impertinent little grin. "Read me what she just sent. I swear on my intelligence that I won't tell a soul. And I'll try to keep the mockery to a minimum."
Jaime relented, unlocking his phone and opening up the New Message symbol. "It says – no, don't look – it says, Jaime Lannister, you are undoubtedly the most amazing and shockingly beautiful person I have ever laid eyes on, fuck me."
Which was of course, a lie, and Tyrion laughed about it too. Because the actual message conveyed a sort of horrible sinking feeling in Jaime's chest, and he wasn't sure what it was or why. (He would not admit he had been disappointed by Brienne Tarth.) I don't know. I don't think it would be wise. For you, or for me. Stupid bitch.
"Now the actual message." Tyrion prompted.
"Is none of your business."
"Come on."
"No!"
Tyrion snatched the phone away from him before he had a chance to realize what the fuck just happened. He lunged for it, but Tyrion had already darted away, out the open door, and Jaime stumbled as he scrambled after him. He skidded onto the landing in time to see the bathroom door click shut and hear it lock. Damn it, damn it. He had to get ready, they'd agreed to be there in half an hour. Jaime thumped the door, hard. "Tyrion, open up!"
"I'm replying to your friend for you, I'm doing you a favour!"
He slammed his fist against the door again, harder in frantic desperation. Oh god. Oh fuck. What the hell was he saying to her? He'd better not be serious, he'd better be joking or he wouldn't live long enough to endure the consequences, fuck, fuck, fuck. "Tyrion this isn't funny, please!"
"Since you asked so nicely as you rarely do, I'll open the door if you confirm my suspicions of who I'm preparing a text message to." His brother called back through the wood separating them.
Jaime sighed, checked his watch. He still had time, he didn't have to – oh, shit, was he going to send it, was he? "Brienne Tarth," He managed.
"I can't hear you!" Tyrion called gleefully.
"Brienne Tarth." Jaime spat, louder this time, pleading, relenting, hammering the door with all his might as if that might somehow make his little brother open up and give him his phone back. Apparently so, because the door unlocked and opened right in his face. He stumbled back and hit Tyrion over the head. "What the fuck was that?" He demanded.
"Just… a bit of fun." Tyrion said guilelessly. "I'm serious, Jaime, have a great time with Brienne Tarth I'm glad you're branching out a bit." I'm branching out? Jaime wanted to retort, you're the one who sits at home reading on a Friday night. Instead he just rolled his eyes in mock exasperation and shoved his brother well-meaningfully across the landing so he could have a shower and get to the damn café.
"Hey, Jaime," Tyrion called once more.
Jaime turned, annoyed now. "What?"
"Do you like her then?"
He did not even credit that with a response.
When he'd washed and changed, he checked his phone to see if Brienne had changed her mind. No such luck. Sigh, sigh. So, naturally, as he shoved his wallet in his pocket, he threw his self respect out the window, opened his phone logs and pressed call on what was her number. After three rings – of what Jaime gathered would be something really awful as a ringtone; Angels by Robbie fucking Williams, that woman – she finally picked up, sounding a little tired and a little uncertain, but primarily irritated.
"What do you want, Jaime?"
"Come to the Water Gardens."
"I have other things to do you know. I have to study for my exams, and I have to practise for the Dragons… The final match of the season's coming up, you know that –" Oh. That match. The one where the scholarship administrators from Kings Landing College would be checking out their possible applicants. He was going to die. Ugh.
"Yes, but they're all boring. I, on the other hand, am vastly interesting. I'm not going to stoop so low as to say please, but I will help you study for science if you come with me tonight." Jaime wondered where the fuck that came from. There had never really been a filter between his thoughts and his spoken words, but apparently the space where one ought to have been was gaping larger and larger.
Jaime couldn't hear, but he was almost sure Brienne was trying not to laugh down the line. "Give me three good reasons, and none – can be about how you're amazing."
"Oh, so you do think I'm amazing?"
"No!" Jaime thought he knew her well enough to tell she'd be bright crimson just about now. "I just – you're awful but I'll… Who else is going to be there?"
"Rhaegar Targaryen, who though is somehow the most adored person in school takes Medieval Literature with you and plays the violin, Lyanna Stark who has the mentality of a two year old, Oberyn Martell who nobody's really sure what the fuck's going on with, Ellaria Sand who doesn't really care about much, Eddard Fucking Stark who is the human personification of a goody two shoes, and Cat Tully who you're apparently BFFs with." He paused, and then grinned at his wall. "And me, king of –" A mumbly sound followed, that sounded suspiciously like fine. Jaime cheered. "What was that?"
"Fine," Brienne said, a little louder.
"See you there then. You have fifteen minutes."
Then he hung up, grabbed his keys and hastened down the few blocks between the Lannister mansion and the Water Gardens café, a sprawling if run-down-looking place with a unadorned fountain in the middle of its tables.
Catelyn, Eddard, Oberyn and Ellaria were already there, leaning across a booth in the corner. Ugh. Eddard Stark. The fuck was it about that guy? He wanted to punch him. Oberyn waved when he saw him, and Jaime sidled down into a seat, reaching for a menu, nodding to the various greetings he was met with. According to Lyanna, the food here was very good. Lyanna herself, burbling on about something or other to Rhaegar, drifted in a few minutes later, and the place suddenly grew a whole lot louder. She looked rather crestfallen to see Brienne was not yet arrived. "Where's your girlfriend, Lannister?" She asked hopefully. Rhaegar laughed and smacked her lightly on the head. She batted him away.
"She's non existant, though gods know every female specimen around here wants to fill her role." Jaime parried, still scanning through the menu. "If you were of course referencing my science partner Brienne Tarth, she'll be here soon."
Lyanna rolled her eyes, and then joined Catelyn in debating a recent episode of Doctor Who. Rhaegar and Eddard were being poncy intellectual twats together, and Oberyn and Ellaria kept attempting to drag him into their conversation, but Jaime's eyes kept inadvertently flitting to the door and back. It would hardly look good if he was stood up by Brienne Tarth. (Except of course, if she was a no-show, he would not fall under the stood up category because to be stood up implies a date.) (This was not a date.)
Eventually she came into view by the doorway, and not, unfortunately, alone. She was talking with Renly Baratheon. Renly Baratheon. What the shit fuck was Renly Baratheon doing here? Jaime had never had any particularly negative feelings about Renly Baratheon, but surely it was stupid for Brienne to be talking with him, if, after all, she was completely in love with him and he was completely gay.
Lyanna seemed to notice his expression. "Jealous of the Renly as well as Hunt are we now?" She grinned at him. Rhaegar told her to be nice. If Jaime had ordered any food by this point, he would have thrown it at her. (Then again, knowing the people at this table, it probably would have turned into a fun, fun fucking fun food fight.)
"No." Jaime retorted. "Who the fuck gets jealous of their friends? You wouldn't be pissed if Cat started hanging out with Elia more than you, would you? She can talk to whoever the fuck she wants. In fact, it's a miracle she's talking to another human being at all, so she should enjoy it, she's welcome to." Eddard and Catelyn exchanged an infuriatingly knowing-amused look. Idiots.
He stood up, for some obscure reason and decided, in order to escape his supposed friends for a minute or so, made a beeline for Brienne and Renly, who were leaning against the wall beside the door now. He fixed a classic Stunning-Jaime smile on his face. "Hello."
Brienne turned around as if she'd been electrocuted at the sound of his voice. "Oh… Hello."
"You could be a bit more welcoming than that. Come on, come and sit down, we're over there. He turned his gaze to Renly, who was evidently here to join Willas Tyrell and some other kids Jaime recognized but could not name the far side of the café. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, I'm just meeting up with some friends." Renly nodded agreeably. What the fuck was it about him that made everybody like him? Why was he so damn likable? It was fucking annoying. Why did he have to be so nice? "You'd be welcome to join us."
"Oh no, Brienne and I have to go and sit with our friends over there. Rhaegar Targaryen and that lot."
"Alright, sure, no worries." Renly responded. "Nice to see you, Brienne," And with that he'd turned on his heels and gone to eat with his friends. Brienne looked quite perplexed, and gave him a what on earth just happened look. Jaime just trudged back over to their table, with her in tow.
"So," He wasted no time as soon as she'd sat down. "Did you walk all the way here with Baratheon, or -?"
"Renly ran into me five minutes ago, and I wasn't walking with him, we were just talking."
"Right, he's gay." Jaime clarified.
"I know," Brienne said, looking a little hurt, but no damage done. Good. He didn't want her latching on to the fool like she'd evidently done before. He could in no way handle peoples emotions, and even calling up her face when she'd seen him making out with the littlest Tyrell boy on Halloween made him uncomfortable. He did offensive jokes and huge talk. Not comfort.
A waitress came over, finally, and, Jaime thought – Lyanna, who had simply ordered cheesecake, and then ordered two more slices, for once in her life, had been completely right. The food was amazing. And so, shockingly, was the company. Catelyn wasn't quite so bad anyway, Eddard kept his mouth shut long enough to be tolerable. Oberyn might have been a bit mental, but so was Lyanna, so it was all good. Ellaria was fine. Rhaegar was cool. Brienne was… Brienne. And he was actually enjoying her company. Shock horror. That camping trip had done something to him, honestly.
He was actually having the best time.
Until Cersei strode through the doors, clearly drunk, with her posse in tow. Taena Merryweather, a couple of the Kettleblack brothers, somehow even Robert Baratheon – perhaps even more drunk than Cersei - had been roped in. Jaime felt something sink inside of him before she'd even opened her mouth.
They all collapsed into a table thankfully far away, ish, and ordered food. And then, Jaime craned his ears to hear – one of her lemmings asked if that was her brother over there, and the look on her face told him that she'd known he was here anyway. Seven hells. Then she fixed her glare on Lyanna and Rhaegar, laughing and drinking from the same glass, a straw each. Seven bloody buggering fucking hells.
She stood up on impossibly high heels, and paced towards his table. He leant his face on his palm, turning nonchalantly away from her approach. He saw Ned whisper something to Catelyn. Made sense. He didn't quite know why so much as he understood why Cat Tully loathed Cersei Lannister almost as much as it went the other way.
"Hello, children," She managed, leaning on the table, coldly taking in Lyanna's hair, that colour that had been a failed attempt at sabotage on her part. "Twin."
"Cersei, what are you doing here?" Jaime asked, although he feared the answer.
"I am eating with my friends, you idiot, can't you see?" She let out a tiny laugh. Oh gods. Hammered.
"No, I can't see, because it looks like you're invading Rhaegar's personal space. Your friends are all the way over there." Jaime countered measurably. The disappointment in her break of sobrerity, as Tysha so wonderfully put it, was crippling, but paled further in comparison to his utter dread of whatever she was going to say next.
"Rhaegar doesn't mind." Cersei took a leaf of lettuce from the bagel on said Targaryen's plate.
"Actually, Rhaegar does mind." Rhaegar informed her, before snatched back the lettuce. Lyanna stared at it as if it might be contaminated. Jaime wondered why she hadn't lashed out yet, since she and his sister were at one another's throats so much. "So if you could just leave us in peace."
"Jaime, what's this? I thought you said that your friends were smart. Or this one, anyway." Cersei continued.
"And what do you mean by that?" Oberyn asked, still that curl of amusement rife on his face.
"I mean, darling Oberyn, that if Rhaegar were smart at all, he'd realize that his girlfriend is a dirty, little –"
"Bitch, you have no fucking clue." Lyanna exclaimed, and had it been anyone but his twin sister raving at his friends, Jaime would have made a joke of it, said catfight and left it at that.
Rhaegar stood up the same time as his girlfriend. "I think you'd better leave, now." The tone in his voice was a warning that if Cersei had even the smallest nugget of sobrerity in her stupid head she would turn around and leave it at that right this instant. Somehow, Jaime doubted that would happen.
So, of course, he was left dumbstruck when Cersei smiled in mock-acceptance and nodded, gracefully rising. And, of course, he should have realized not to be so stupid, when she turned back around on her way to her own table. "Oh, and Jaime, brother – I'll answer Tyrion for you, then, shall I?"
Once more that day, Jaime Lannister did not grace a sibling with a reply.