Chapter 7

She forgot to put her sunglasses in the car. She frowned and pretended she was just squinting, but really it was just yet another thing she should have known better not to do.
Oh gods, that was needlessly dramatic. Who was she? Some dumb theatre kid?

She snorted. No matter what her sister might say, Sansa hated dramatics.

"Did you see Davey today? His new haircut makes him look like a cancer patient."

Margaery giggled without taking her eyes off her phone. Sansa had seen Davey, and she had also seen Tomas offer him a hat when it looked like he might cry.

"I think it's brave to make such a big change. Like, imagine if you decided to cut all your hair off, you have no idea what you'd look like." She didn't care about Davey, but everyone had to have at least one bad haircut in their life, and Sansa dreaded to think what Marge would say when Sansa's time came.

"Yeah, imagine. I know better." She rolled her eyes, but still wasn't looking up from her phone.

"Any news?" Sansa glanced at her friend again before turning back to the road. She was driving halfway across town for her, the least Margaery could do was look at her.

"No," It was a drawling word, groaned out and sustained, but it was still unconvincing. There was always something going on, some gossip to share, and she hadn't been able to take her eyes off her phone for the last few minutes. Sansa sighed.

They had argued last week about Margaery keeping something from her. It had escalated enough that even Joffrey had gotten involved, told her to back off. And then on Sunday Marge had acted as though everything was normal and she hadn't called Sansa a needy bitch begging for scraps. Sansa had done her best to smile and act normally, and when Marge had gotten her acceptance letter from King's Landing University, she was happy about that too.
But Margaery still hadn't told her what was going on and that worried Sansa.

The last time she kept secrets it had been because she was dating a college guy and sneaking out to see him. It had only come out when Mrs Tyrell had turned up at the Stark house ranting about how irresponsible Sansa's parents were for letting the girls stay out so late on a weekday. It had taken an hour to calm her down but only twenty minutes to work out that Margaery had lied and Sansa was still straight-laced and exceptional.

She was beginning to suspect that it would take more than a white lie to break the secrets apart this time.

"Are you sure you just want to be dropped here?" Sansa frowned at the road ahead of her, gleaming at her from the sun's reflection on the rainy surface.

They were miles from Margaery's house, halfway to downtown. She had insisted that her cousin lived around here, but Sansa wasn't so sure. She had pulled the cousin trick before, when she was seeing that guy. It was always a cousin's birthday, or a cousin needed babysitting. Truth be told, Sansa wasn't sure how many Tyrells there were, so she couldn't ever quite call her friend out for lying, but there was something about this place that even Sansa knew couldn't be a genuine Tyrell-cousin-emergency.

There were no picket fences and not a single Stepford wife in sight, to begin with.

"Yeah, over there is fine." Margaery didn't stop smirking at her phone to see where they were, and Sansa took some comfort in that – her friend trusted her at least. She pulled the car up against a curb and put it in park.

"Marg, if there's something going on-"

"There isn't." She cut her off, locking her phone and sliding it into her pocket before looking up. She blinked in surprise before speaking, "Oh darling! Don't be upset! I'm fine, honestly." She took her hand and patted it twice. "Thanks for the ride. See you at school."

Her soft hand slipped away from Sansa's as she span elegantly from her seat.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow." The enthusiasm in Sansa's voice sounded false, even to her, and she wasn't too sure why she had even tried. Margaery had already slammed the door shut.

Sansa took a deep breath. Just because her friend was hiding something from her, didn't mean she hated her. Maybe she was in danger, maybe it was another college guy, but it probably wasn't anything to do with Sansa. She took a minute, squinting at the bright sky and doing her best not to think too hard.

She jumped when her phone rang, and then she laughed at herself. It was probably just Joffrey, he hadn't called her yet today. What was there to be jumpy about?

But the photo on her phone wasn't of Joff looking cute in his wrestling jersey, it was her dad smiling up at her from quadbike he'd rented in the summer. The boys had gone mad for it – Arya too – but Sansa had only been willing to ride with their dad, and even then only for a couple of minutes. But she'd snapped a picture because he hadn't looked so care-free in a long time.

"Hello?"

"Hiya Lovebug, it's me."

"Hi dad, are you okay?"

"'Course I am, always okay, me. Just wondering what time you'll be home." Her dad still had his Northern accent despite living down south for over twenty years, but it was one of the things Sansa loved most about him. He had no trouble belonging, even if he was a little different.

"Oh," Sansa glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It wasn't that much later than she normally got home. "In about twenty minutes, I think. Why? Am I late for something? I don't have to pick Rickon up again, do I?" She groaned. He had stank out the car when she fetched him from soccer on Saturday.

"No, no, he's here. It's just your brother's got a friend over for dinner, so your mum's keen to get it on the table sharpish."

"Okay, well I won't be long," She sounded more defensive than she meant to, but really that could only be a good thing. Someone would still probably make some sort of comment when she got in.

"I know, I know, I just wanted to warn you ahead of time,"

The rise in her dad's voice made guilt bubble up in her belly. He sounded like he was preparing for a tantrum.

Sansa sighed. Truth was it was probably safer to tell her before-hand that someone was coming for dinner. Since Saturday she had gotten that twisting feeling in her gut every time she was around her family, and if she had come home expecting to be able to take her dinner upstairs and not interact, then she would have felt blindsided, and completely resented some poor boy.

"Right, thanks dad," she sighed, "I won't be long."

"Okay, love. Oh, and Theon's here tonight as well, just so you're prepared for more of his anecdotes,"

She could almost hear him rolling his eyes, and she laughed before she could help herself.

"Oh dear, maybe I won't be home tonight after all – there can't be any good stories left about working in a Burger King."

"Oh, I don't know, there was that one – Oh, hang on love," there were voices in the background and the dad-induced glow was subsiding. She knew he loved her, but not even her dad seemed to have enough time for her these days.

"Sorry, Lovebug, I better go. Robert's called round to drop something off. I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Right. Love you."

"You too."

The line went dead and she set her phone down on the passenger seat. She didn't want to believe that Joff was right, but none of them did seem that interested in her at the minute. Even her dad couldn't finish a conversation about Theon's stupid stories. And she knew he was busy, lawyers normally are, but she wished his job gave him more time with them. He at least was sorry for the distance, she thought. Goodness knows the others weren't. They were caught up in whatever drama they usually busied themselves with. Nobody really noticed her.

She flicked the radio on and pulled away from the curb. At least Joffrey paid attention to her. He was always there.

-.*.-.*.-

The boy was here again. Sitting there, bold as brass, nibbling at the chicken and blushing at the silent looks. Robb had explained, and Jon had filled in the gaps, about why he had to be there. And Rickon understood – he did, truly – but he still didn't like the way the boy looked at their sister. Sisters. Rickon corrected himself. There was something in his expression when he looked at Arya that changed when he glanced over at Sansa, still soft, but flipping between affectionate and protective, to slightly scared.

If Robb hadn't told him that Gendry was meant to draw Sansa's eye, Rickon would have guessed he was Jon's friend trying to get to know Arya. Which is the story they told their parents. Well, half of it anyway. They knew he was Jon's friend, and Rickon would have bet his left ass-cheek that they had noticed the looks between him and Arya. Gods knew Sansa had. She was watching them with narrowed eyes and a half-smile, like she was in on the secret. Ha!

Rickon tried not to feel too smug at that – only a select few had been let into the plan, and he was now among their number.

He had gotten it out of them on Saturday when he was at peak spy-master. Robb had complained and Jon had tutted, but Rickon had stood close enough that the soccer-stink got to them and they spilled everything. Gendry was gunning for Sansa, their final attempt to drag her away from her twat of a boyfriend. They had met, they had spoken, seeds had been planted, and now the plan was onto phase two. They were calling in the big guns.

Or at least, that was how Rickon was thinking of it. In his mind they all had sunglasses and suave smiles already, sipping on milkshakes at the bar in Mott's, having watched Sansa punch Joffrey in the face. Or the balls. Or anywhere really, nowhere should be off-limits where that little brat was concerned.

But there were a few steps before that.

Namely, dinner.

Robb was looking pleased with himself, and Arya was trying not to blush too much, so it looked like it was only Jon who Rickon could count on. Had he noticed? Had he seen how uncomfortable Gendry was?

No, he was not looking at all. He was talking to Theon about something less-important than their sister's life-long happiness. Pah. Theon wasn't even in on the plan. Stupid Theon, distracting the Team mid-mission.

"Looking forward to the game?" Rickon asked Gendry. He flinched slightly, blinking in surprise at being addressed directly. The adults at the end of the table were caught in their own conversation, and Sansa was paying close attention to her potatoes, so maybe it really was just Rickon chatting for the sake of it?

"Uh – sure – I mean, it's the first one of the season, so it's always a bit nerve-wracking, but I reckon it'll be alright. You coming to watch?"

"Sure."

"Really?" Sansa turned to him in surprise. "You hate football."

"Well yeah, it's totally inferior to soccer. I don't mind the snacks though."

"And by snacks do you mean ogling the cheerleaders?" Arya asked, teasing.

Sansa sighed and her face twisted nastily, eyes rolling. "They're my friends Rick, can you be less gross please?"

"Hey, I didn't say anything about cheerleaders! Did I Gen?"

"Huh? Oh – er- no, that was- that was – er-" he nodded at Arya without looking at her, almost as though in his embarrassment he had lost all control of his neck. Paralysed by awkwardness.

"Yeah! As a joke! Honestly Sansa!"

Sansa opened her mouth and Rickon was ready for sister-spat at the table. He sighed and slipped down in his seat, hoping to avoid being hit by the verbal debris.

But, before Sansa could say anything, Gendry spoke up.

"In fairness, the cheerleaders get a hard time of things. They work about as hard as the team does and then nobody takes them seriously."

"Thank you Gendry." Sansa said stiffly. She speared a piece of broccoli and threw a withering look at Arya who looked like she was almost shaking with the effort of not answering back.

"S'alright. Sometimes banter skips over important bits and isn't fun for everyone." It was a strange thing to say, Rickon felt, but Gendry didn't seem to notice the frowns and looks of confusion coming from the others.

Arya wrinkled her nose and scoffed, "So, what you're saying is 'words can hurt'?"

Gendry didn't even flinch, and Rickon couldn't say he wasn't impressed,

"I get the feeling this is news to you." Gendry said sardonically.

"Shut up." Arya rolled her eyes, blushing.

Rickon watched Sansa watching the two of them. There was something brewing in that head. Something that might interfere with The Plan. Rickon felt something click in his brain and he span quickly, looking to his brothers. Robb was mid-chicken, and Bran was still just a clueless civilian, but Jon – Jon would know what to do. He met his eyes and Rickon gestured to Sansa, perhaps a little frantically, but this was important. Jon met his eyes and shook his head. Rickon sighed. He was alone on this one, out in the cold. He would have to deal with Sansa's bright ideas all on his own.

"Are you okay, Rick?" Arya's voice called him back to the present. She was looking at him, her face the picture of concern.

Rickon did his best to smile, but she obviously wasn't buying it. Gendry was talking to Sansa about football now - or something equally terrible judging by the glaze over Sansa's eyes – so Rickon felt he was safe to signal to his sister.

"All will be well,"

"You're such a strange child."

-.*.-.*.-

It was strange being around such a functioning family. Not a normal family by any stretch of the imagination, but one where you could argue with your brother and chat with your dad and then carry on eating together. No plates thrown at walls, no blackmail, no threats. It wasn't peaceful exactly, but there was harmony.
Gendry watched, feeling a little guilty that he was here under false pretences. But then, there was no way he would ever belong here. This was too good for Gendry Waters and they all knew it, surely.

He cut his chicken carefully, doing his best not to press the knife too hard onto the china. The last thing he wanted was to leave a mark.

He didn't mind a bit of family meddling when it was just the children, but when Ned and Catelyn Stark had welcomed him into their home with smiles and freshly squeezed orange juice something had twinged inside him. This couldn't be right.

They were nice. They cared about their children. They knew all their names and probably remembered all of their birthdays. They had inside jokes and went fishing on the weekends. They must know how wretched Joffrey was. They couldn't be blind to his influence on Sansa. So why were Robb and Jon so insistent that they alone could defend their sister? Didn't that suggest Ned and Catelyn weren't doing as good a job as they seemed? Wasn't it throwing that welcome, that kindness and care back in their faces? Gendry put his fork down. He might as well have thrown that freshly-squeezed orange juice in their faces. By going along with Robb's plan he was saying he didn't trust the Starks as parents.

Gendry knew bad parents. His own for a start. Well, his dad anyway. And he was miles off this idyllic scene.

He could talk to Sansa. He could go shopping with Arya, and chat movies with Jon, but he couldn't sit in the Stark home and call Mr. and Mrs. Stark bad parents.

Gendry swallowed his mouthful of potatoes and turned to Jon. A bad stomach. That would be enough. Nobody could prove that you weren't about to vomit. And Jon wouldn't force him to stay if he said he had to leave.

"-and Robert was out by the end of the day. Nasty business."

"But then Cersei always could be nasty if she wanted to."

"Yeah, that's why I offered Robert the guesthouse last Christmas, if and when he needed it. It's been coming to an end for a while."

Gendry felt the potatoes rising. There was a brick in his stomach, and it was pushing everything else away. It had settled and he was frozen, caught like a fish in a net. He knew there was a reason he had always kept a distance from the Starks.

-.*.-.*.-

"Do you still have time to go fishing on the weekend, dad?"

Even though Jon was their cousin, for as long as Arya could remember dad had been his dad too. It wasn't something he thought too much about, but the look on Gendry's face made him all too aware of how weird the Starks might be to an outsider.

"Ah, sorry, bud, I can't. I've got to do some work for Robert, he's having a bit of a rough time of it."

"The ex-wife still all guns blazing?" Theon laughed, as though it was all some big joke and not the end of a decade long marriage.

"Cersei is going for everything she can get, the awful woman." Catelyn muttered.

Sansa stiffened, and curiously so did Gendry. Arya glanced at him. He looked a little pale, but his eyes were fixed on Arya's dad, listening intently.

"Let's leave the judgements for the courtroom," Ned said fairly "it's been a hard road for them all I think."

"Yeah, but now Uncle Robert's free and we don't have to see that bitch anymore." Arya rolled her eyes, surely not the only person at the table grateful to see the back of the ice-queen.

"Arya!" Sansa's ears had turned pink, "She's still Joff's mom!"

"Exactly," Arya scoffed before could stop herself, "She's where he gets it from."

"Gets what from exactly?"

Arya opened her mouth, but their mother was quicker.

"Arya, Sansa, we don't talk about people like that behind their backs. You sort out problems to their face or you don't say a word."

"Mom! You were just bitching about her, why are you yelling at us?"

"Language Arya." Ned warned, turning so Catelyn couldn't see his wink.

Arya guffawed and stuffed a potato in her mouth. She was right and yet she was still being punished. She glanced down the table and saw every eye averted. Even Gendry was staring down at his plate. Wonderful.

-.*.-.*.-

Everything was going swimmingly. Admirably. Perfectly according to plan.
Dinner was excellent – Mom's roast chicken - and Theon had joined them, making Gendry's place at the table less conspicuous. Jon and Arya sat on either side of him, and Sansa was directly opposite. Perfect. Robb couldn't have sorted it better if he had tried. Which he had, but nobody seemed to notice.
Which is as it should be, he reminded himself.
Secrecy and stealth and all that. It was easy running this plan, a breeze. An elbow in Arya's side and a pointed look at Jon and everything lined up exactly as they needed it to. Even Rickon was keeping quiet. He hadn't said much since Sunday, but Robb was confident he could be counted on when the time came.

In truth he wouldn't have told their baby brother about any of this until after the fact, if at all, but he had stood there in his soccer kit with suspicion all over his face and it had been obvious. He had worked it out. So Robb told him enough to keep him quiet, and gave him a job. Family-Smoother-over-er. Make sure that Gendry slipped into the family seamlessly. Arya liked him, Jon was a fan, it couldn't be long before Sansa saw the good in him. No, Robb thought, watching Sansa pass the gravy, her scowl lessening for a second. Not long now.

-.*.-.*.-

It had been too long. It was eight thirty and Sansa was staring at her bedroom ceiling wondering if her phone was broken or just her trust.

Fuck, much more of these dramatics and she might as well join the fricking show choir.

She sat up, not caring if she scattered her throw pillows all across the floor. They were pointless accessories anyway. Much like a boyfriend who never called you back.

He had kissed her goodbye at three thirty in the school parking lot, and said he would talk to her later. That meant talking on the phone because mid-week dates had been suspended during the school year by Overlord Stark.
Her mom was just worried about their grades, but since Sansa was the only one with a solid partner, she couldn't help but feel victimised. The irony was that she spent far more time wondering where her boyfriend was and why he wasn't calling now than she ever did in the summer.

She sighed. Her school bag sat looking at her. She had a paper to write and Margaery had spent all week crowing about her success, and acceptance letter, so Sansa was extra-motivated to write it, but nothing in her was willing to move towards it.
There were voices downstairs. Maybe Uncle Robert had come over again to ask Dad for help with the divorce. Maybe that was why Joff hadn't called. She could slip downstairs and see him and casually ask if everything was alright? Sansa sighed again. She was sighing a lot these days. Convoluted plans and slipping about just to enter into the periphery of someone's mind. These were things she thought would disappear when she finally made it to a solid relationship. She shouldn't have to plot ways to speak to her boyfriend's dad just to find out if Joff was thinking about her.

She was hurting, and she was lonely, but she refused to be pathetic.

She shook herself and stood up, hoisting her bag up onto her desk and spilling her books out. She had to do better than Margaery. Her friend was clever, but she was also awful. Awful people didn't deserve to win, so Sansa would do better and get offers from better universities and then she would be the one sneaking off to very important things she couldn't possibly tell anyone about. And then maybe Joffrey would realise what he was missing.

But first, she thought, staring down at the blank page in front of her, she would make a cup of tea.

-.*.-.*.-

The boy was still here. Gendry, not 'the boy', that was rude. But wasn't it ruder to still be in her house, taking up her kitchen? She tried not to huff as she walked past him.

"Um-" he began.

No, don't speak to me, Sansa thought, I just want to make a cup of tea in peace, please don't talk to me, take the hint-

"-er – are you okay?"

Fuck.

"No," she closed the cutlery drawer and turned toward the kettle.

"Oh," he sounded – she didn't care how he sounded, she wasn't his mother, his friend, his keeper. Let him be sad. She wasn't so pathetic that she cared about every sad creature to cross her path.

"Okay. I-er – I'm on hot chocolate duty, do you want one?"

Well that was unexpected.

She turned and frowned at him.

"Do I want one?"

His hands were in his pockets and he was shuffling nervously. The frown was working. She added a touch of glare, and hoped he would take the hint.

"Hot chocolate." He mumbled, holding up a tub of chocolate powder. There was a pan of milk on the stove bubbling and cinnamon on the counter next to it. Cinnamon Hot Chocolate. Was Arya somewhere round here?

The thought of her sister triggered something in Sansa that she couldn't quite explain and suddenly she wasn't putting on a show, trying to dissuade conversation. She was pissed and wanted to be ten years older living alone with no siblings and no friends-of-siblings cluttering up her kitchen.

"Do I want a hot chocolate? A cup of sugary shit? Do I look like I want a fricking hot chocolate?"

If he was taken aback he didn't show it. He looked at her, slightly longer than she felt appropriate, and then shrugged. Just shrugged. The fucker looked at her, pissed and ready to pounce, and all he did was shrug. Asshole.

"Not really."

He turned to the saucepan and stirred a wooden spoon through the milk, skimming the goopy skin off the top. He started scooping chocolate powder into it, spoons heaped to Arya levels of sugar.

"No, of course I don't, dumbass." Sansa muttered at his back, turning again to the kettle, watching it boil. She didn't hear him come up behind her, and jumped when he spoke,

"Right. Well do you mind shifting over? I need to grab the mugs."

She moved aside without a word and hovered on the other side of the kitchen table.

He was a lot taller than her. Like, a lot a lot. Joff only came up to her nose. He had nice arms too. He smelt like chocolate powder and laundry detergent. Nothing fancy, none of that teenage deodorant shit. God, she hated men's cologne.

He had a tray full of mugs and she counted out her entire family before realising that the sinking in her stomach was regret. She shouldn't have snapped at him.

"I'm sorry," She murmured as he walked past her. He paused at the door, and nodded, but he didn't turn around to look at her.

She turned back to her mug and found the teabag bobbing happily in a full cup of hot water. Something twisted inside her and she smiled to herself.

Gendry.

Huh.

-.*.-.*.-

Thank you so much for reading! So much love to you. If you can, pop a little comment in and let me know what you think of things. How are we feeling about Rickon getting in on the plan? And Margaery and her secrets? I'm hoping it'll be satisfying when it all comes out!

I hope you are all keeping safe. If you're an key worker, thank you so much for everything, you're all heroes.
If you're not, then thank you for staying at home!
How are you entertaining yourselves in these quarantimes? I'm stuck in Italy teaching online waiting for my contract to end so I can go back to the UK, spending my weekends writing in the sunshine and trying not to go crazy. I'm very lucky. I hope you're finding your way through things too.
All my love.
xoxoxo