Chapter 2

"Is this him, then?"

Jon turned around and immediately scowled. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard from a little birdy that you two numbskulls had come up with an ingenious plan to rid our sweet sister of her scourge, thought I'd come and see how badly it's going." She stood with her nose in the air and her hands on her hips, and hoped she looked aloof and not like a bad superhero. "Also Hot-Pie doesn't finish work for another hour so I haven't got anything better to do." She added with a wink at Gendry. "So, how's it going?" she sat down on the seat vacated by her brother, and crossed her legs underneath her. "Ooh, maybe not peach?" she scrunched her face up when Robb turned the corner with an armful of shirts.

"Arya! What are you doing here?" Robb was more startled than upset. He had definitely told her they were going hiking, how had she tracked them here?

"Giving some much needed advice apparently. Sansa has always hated plaid. And she says polka dots are for toddlers," her face sunk into a scowl, much like her cousins beside her, "or at least they were when she threw away my favourite t-shirt."

"I mean what are you doing in the men's changing rooms?" he shot her a look that was so remarkably like their mother Arya felt a chill run down her spine.

"Hanging out." She ignored his exasperated sigh as she clambered up off the sofa and began picking through the hangers in his arms. "No to all of these racer vests, they're awful creations that even Sansa won't pretend to like. No jeans, these will be too short and on no plane of existence does a girl want to see their potential love interest in shorts like these, I don't care if he has calves for days, it's still a no." she spoke quickly so her eldest brother didn't have a chance to come back with any of his nonsense about 'some people can carry off unusual styles'. The lime Bermuda shorts look bad on everyone, Robb. Good grief.

"You have too many opinions." He stuck his lip out as Arya tugged clothes away from him with careless abandon.

"I'm right though, aren't I? You agree, don't you Gendry?" she turned and shot him with a giant grin. Up until that point in time he hadn't known that she knew his name.

"Er- Hi. Nice to meet you." He half raised a hand in awkward greeting.

"We've met." She nodded, giving the briefest of smiles.

"Have we?" his brow crinkled in confusion.

"Yeah, it wasn't a great first impression, I don't blame you for forgetting. Why are you holding that?" without breaking pace she span around to glare at Robb.

He looked down at the lone shirt still slung over his arm, a red and white striped button down, "Because it's sort of nice."

"Hmm." Arya crossed her arms and gave him an appraising look, lingering long enough on the shirt to make her feelings clear.

Robb huffed, and tipped his head back. He looked like he was already on the brink of pinching the bridge of his nose like a dramatic movie college professor unappreciated for their genius, "What do you think of it then, oh wise counsellor?"

"I think you just need some braces and a couple of badges and he's all ready for his shift at TGI Fridays." She made sure to keep eye contact with Robb just to see how bright a shade of red he turned. (Champagne Vinegar on the Dulux colour chart. Disappointing.)

There was a snuffling noise behind Arya that from Robb's sharp look she guessed was muffled laughter. Jon chuckled, "I think we should just leave her to it, Robb. It's almost lunch time anyway."

"Hey! No! I didn't come here to do your dirty work!" Arya span, enjoying the effect in the mirrors of her skirt spinning around her knees, her hair flicking theatrically over her shoulders.

Robb threw up his hands "Then why are you here?"

She glared at his reflection, "As was previously said, Hot-Pie's not off work until twelve, and I have already re-gained the top score on Sharp Shooter."

"What? I spent a week trying to get that!" Gendry cried. He was stuck on a podium like a knock-off Ken doll while someone else was beating his well-earned high score? Outrageous.

"That was you?" Arya laughed, "I honestly almost fell over in shock when I saw it. Nobody's even come close for months." She looked at him up and down, taking in the navy suit, the terrible shirt, the blush spreading across his cheeks (Cherry Tomatoes. Nice.)

"Yeah, well I had some spare time." He shrugged, starting to look like he would rather not be in Arya Stark's line of sight.

"Is that how they got you to agree to this nonsense? Nothing better to do with your time?"

Gendry didn't say anything, but his face lifted into a shy smile as he shrugged that let Arya know she wasn't far off.

"Gendry agreed because he saw the sense in such a plan." Robb had emptied his arms of any clothing and come to stand beside Jon at the side of the sofa in what he surely saw as a show of solidarity.

"And because they bought me a Mega-Shake." Gendry chipped in helpfully. He was still a little bit pink, but his little smile hadn't quite disappeared yet.

Arya gasped, "The one with the triple swirl?! I've been trying to get someone to buy me that for ages!" she scowled at the two boys before her, one looking entirely amused, the other full of misplaced pride.

"You know you can buy things for yourself, right?" Jon raised his eyebrows at her.

"I know, but it just tastes so much better when it comes out of someone else's pocket."

"Can confirm." Gendry nodded.

Arya snorted, unable to keep the scowling up, "You're so easy. You must be a cheap date." She shook her head at him.

He held his hands up, the glittering shirt cuff catching the light, "A couple of Sharp Shooter tokens and I'm all yours."

"Or all Sansa's. Actually she really doesn't like the arcade she's more- No!" The others jumped when Arya stamped her foot on the carpet, "I am not helping with this." She held a scolding finger out.

"Why though? Is it really any better letting them work it out themselves?" Robb asked. He imagined himself to be persuasive, Arya was sure. It wasn't working.

"Yes. It absolutely is." It wasn't, but she couldn't admit Robb was right when he was this smug.

Jon looked at her, "Arya."

His knowing tone made her sigh. She could only hide so much from him.

"Maybe it's because it's beneath my dignity? Because I trust that eventually Sansa will come to her senses? Because I'm sort of looking forward to punching Joffrey in the face?" She screwed her face up so she wouldn't have to see her cousin's face. Jon always knew when she was lying. "It doesn't matter anyway because I do not want to spend my Saturday picking out chinos and pastel shirts."

"Chinos, you say?" Robb rubbed at the scrap of stubble he called a beard.

Arya groaned.

"What's your price?"

Arya turned very slowly towards the questioner. She folded her arms and bit her lip very hard to stop herself smiling at her cousin.

"Excuse me?"

"Everyone has a price. What is it going to take for you to help deck Gendry out?"

Arya was silent for a second. She turned to observe the boy in question. He was fiddling with the buttons his jacket (Velvet. Purple. An abomination).

"Shotgun for the next month, two doughnuts per hour for the rest of the time we're here, and," she turned so that she was looking directly into the eyes of the main genius who had brought them all to this point, trying not to roll her eyes at the smug smile spreading across his stupid Champagne Vinegar face, "a Mega-Shake."

Gendry was nervous. Quite rightly, it seemed judging from the expression on Arya's face, but a six-foot football player of usually bold character quivering at a clothing rack must have been quite a sight. Jon and Robb had disappeared to brainstorm conversation topics, apparently, although both had left with looks of relief and sympathy. Gendry had taken a deep breath, expecting orders, but instead she had swept him silently out of the changing rooms and into a completely different shop. The silence was making him twitchy.

"Right," Arya clapped her hands together, dragging his attention away from the overwhelming number of possibilities around them, "we need to change you into one of those preppy football guys. You already have the football, now you need the prep." She was smiling, but it was more like a predator smiling at their prey than anything reassuring or friendly. He gulped nervously, but Arya carried on speaking, "Which is a real shame actually, because I'm all about the grunge," she smirked at him, "You are pretty much exactly my type, actually. You just need a leather jacket and a sad backstory and I'm all yours. You sure you want to commit to this plan, and don't just want to bunk off and go play Sharp Shooter?"

The option dangled in front of him like the most delicious carrot in front of a starving donkey, but Gendry was not a man to break promise. As enticing as Sharp Shooter with Arya was, he had a job to do. He met her gaze and did his best not to blush too much,

"Er – Best not, right?" he grinned awkwardly, shifting uncomfortably under her gaze.

"Excellent! First test passed," Arya beamed at him. He was taken aback by how quickly she had shifted tone, but she didn't give him much time to adjust, "Honourable gentlemen do not ride off into the sunset with your sister. Ever."

"I don't have a sister." He heard himself saying, stupidly. To her credit, she didn't roll her eyes or make fun, just spoke plainly and swiftly. Moving Forward, always on task.

"Not your sister, the sister of the person to whom you will be the honourable gentleman, namely, Sansa."

Gendry frowned, but he was finally enjoying himself, "That was ambiguously phrased."

Arya gave him a firm look, "You're getting slowly less and less attractive with each word that comes out of your mouth."

"There seems to be a disproportionate amount of meanness coming from you."

A threatening finger was held up in his direction, "If that's a small joke I will kill you."

"Exactly like that," Gendry carried on, ignoring the death glare, "how do you have the balls to threaten people like that? You're so delicate."

"Ha! Fuck you." She brushed hair out of her face and stood to her full height, "'Delicate' can suck my salty balls. I am small but mighty."

Gendry found he couldn't disagree, "Yes ma'am."

"Look, just fucking pick something, okay? I'll tell you if it's shit, and then we can move on to more important things. You probably only need one or two things anyway, and it's not even like you have to pay for it." She spoke quickly, and turned from the smirking boy to wrinkle her nose at the row of pastel shirts. They were exactly the sort of preppy thing Sansa would love, apparently.

"No?" Gendry was still hesitant. He picked up a price tag and winced. More than a week's salary.

"No, Robb's got dad's credit card. We're living it large today, my friend."

He looked at her, taken aback, "Why would your dad just give him his credit card?" His father would never dream of doing that for him. But then, there were probably many things Ned Stark did that his father would never do. Speak to him, for one.

Arya shrugged, turning to face the clothes. "Robb said he was going to pick up a suit for Prom – oh!"

She froze, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates.

"I take back what I just said," she bit her lip and settled her eyes on Gendry. This did nothing to stop him feeling worried. Well quite right too, this was no time for calm, "this might not actually be that easy."

"If I wasn't worried before-"

"You should be now. Don't worry," Arya grinned quickly, brushing aside whatever else was clearly on her mind, "It would be a lot worse if the Tweedle Dumbs were here, but with me you are in safe hands."

Gendry snorted, "Whatever you say."