Survival of the Fittest

by NorthernLights37

It's Naked and Afraid. And it's Jon and Dany. 21 days, no clothes, no food, no shelter. Can survival experts Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen conquer nature? Hell yeah, of course, but that doesn't mean they don't also wanna bone. You have been warned.

DANY, DAY 1

The rumbling of the truck beneath her ass, as she was carried deeper into the unfamiliar wilderness at the heart of this island, made her stomach clench.

Dany wasn't sure if it was fear, or excitement, but whatever it was made her guts squirm with each pothole the vehicle bounced over, mud spraying wildly from the recent rainstorm.

She'd always wanted to visit Dragonstone, had grown up on stories that alleged her distant ancestors had originally arrived there, before making a final home in Westeros. Though the skies had cleared after last night's storm, one that had battered the cheap motel she'd been put up in, she couldn't help but wonder if perhaps there was a reason the Targaryens had left this place.

She hoped she would find it a bit more hospitable than they had, at least for the next twenty-one days.

Everyone thought she was crazy for doing this. Missy, Grey, Qhono, all her friends from Essos had all spent the last month taking the piss out of her for signing up, but she'd shot down their teasing each time, insisting that her nomadic childhood had prepared for just this sort of wilderness survival experience.

Aerys Targaryen ran the premier survival readiness program in the Crownlands, after all. She'd spent her summers in Lys, Volantis, and Pentos, learning to exist solely on what nature provided, and though Dragonstone was not quite as sweltering as those Eastern shores, she wasn't too worried about her prospects.

It was the naked part that was starting to give her fits, her heart pounding in time with the old truck's engine.

Gods, what was she doing?

Just breathe, she chided herself silently. It's a perfect stranger, it doesn't matter.

Last night, as she'd watched fuzzy sitcom reruns, alone in her room, she'd called Missy, desperate to hear her friend's voice one last time. But Missy had put a terrible thought in her head, one she couldn't shake.

"What if he's hot?"

Dany had giggled uncontrollably. "It doesn't matter, Missy. Ugly, hot, fat, skinny, who cares?" She'd snuggled under her covers, determined to enjoy one more good night's sleep. "As long as he knows what he's doing, it'll be fine."

Missy had been less sure.

Dany sent up a prayer, probably her first since she was a girl, to any Gods that would listen.

Don't let him be hot.

"It'll be fine," she whispered to herself. "You've seen plenty of naked men."

"Something wrong?" Lisa, the camerawoman who would document her drop-off into the wild, was watching her, looking slightly concerned.

Dany shook her head, embarrassed. "No, no, just psyching myself up."

Lisa squinted, then looked up ahead. "We're here!" Dany's heart was in her throat as the truck shuddered to a halt, the driver studiously ignoring them as the camerawoman climbed down, then dropped the tailgate for Dany.

Swallowing hard, she jumped down, bidding one last, fond look to her sneakers before she toed them off, then shucked her socks of as well.

She blew out a breath, giving Lisa a sideways look. "Now or never, I guess!" Before she could think twice, she stripped off her blue tank top and bra, shimmying out of her jean shorts and panties, standing stock still for a moment under the balmy heat of the sun to absorb the fact that she was actually doing this.

Then she reached down, grabbed her clothes, and handed them to Lisa.

"Any last words?" The woman chuckled as she asked her rather morbid question, taking the clothing then aiming her camera at Dany's face. She pointed a silent finger at Dany, indicating she was filming.

"If I don't make it back," Dany said thoughtfully, "tell my mom to feed my dogs."

With a cheeky smile, she began to walk down the trail, waving goodbye to Lisa over her shoulder as she set off to the spot she'd been instructed to find, the designated point where she would meet her partner for this adventure.

Ten minutes in, she found herself on the bank of a narrow, shallow looking river, dipping a toe into the cool, rushing water and shrugging. She pushed onward, spotting the pair of brown, woven sacks that contained the item she'd been allowed to bring, and whatever her partner had decided on. She climbed out of the water, shivering just a bit and neared the tree, making it just under the branches when she heard a rustling.

Then he appeared, and she cursed the Gods, and Missy, and the producers to boot.

Because this was obviously her partner, and fucking hells, he was hot.

Hot hot hot.

She nearly moaned, just at the sight of him, all muscles and firm flesh, dark, curly hair that was on the long side but held back from his face.

It was the short beard that nearly did her in. He looked like Tarzan's manlier brother.

Stop it, Dany. Get yourself together.

She was not going to ogle him. Absolutely not. So what, if he was hot? He was just a hot, naked man that she was going to spend next near-month with. The thrill would wear off, she was certain. In a few days they'd both be grimy and smelly, and it would be just fine.

It was almost impossible, but she managed to keep her eyes above chest level.

Kind of.

She glanced down, just once, a polite examination, her eyes shooting up quickly as she realized this man was absolutely a fine specimen. The nude beaches of Lys had given her plenty to compare him to, and in her approximation he more than measured up, in all sorts of wonderful ways.

When she forced herself to return to his face, she was only spared from monumental mortification at the realization that he was giving her a once-over as well, his eyes wide as he inhaled sharply. At least she wasn't the only on who liked what they saw.

She hoped, anyway. Or, maybe she didn't. She really didn't know how she felt, except extremely exposed, and shamefully, a little turned on.

With the way he was also pointedly now keeping his gaze above her chin, she had to smile. Okay. This would be fine. They could absolutely be adults. They were just naked, that was all.

"Hi!" She winced at how high her voice was, as she tried to smile. "I'm Dany." She extended her hand, thinking she was an idiot immediately after, even as his much larger hand took hers. They weren't at a bloody business meeting.

"Jon," he said, tearing his eyes away from her and to the sacks hanging from the nearby branch.

She was firmly stowing away the sound of his low, deep voice, a distinctive accent giving him away in just one syllable. She would think about his voice later. Much later. When he was not awake to see her eyeing him like a piece of meat.

A piece of hot, delicious, very well-defined meat.

She nodded, and reached for their sacks, a bit taken aback when he fairly ripped his from her grasp and slung it over his shoulder, so that the cloth hid his groin from view. When she frowned, he finally spoke again.

"Sorry," he said, apologetically. "It's just weird, you know? I thought it wouldn't be weird, but it's definitely weird, being naked in front of a stranger." He smiled at her, bashfully, and it was so fucking adorable that she wanted to let out a stupid girlish giggle. She fought the urge, victorious when she managed a snort instead.

"Yeah," she agreed, relieved it wasn't just her. "It's kinda weird." She slung her own sack on, grabbing at her thick braid to trail it over her shoulder, managing a modicum of modesty in that her braid and the strap of the sack mostly covered her breasts, and the sack itself hid her own southern bits from his sharp gray eyes.

He was going to see plenty of her ass, though, no way around that. At least she'd been doing lots of lunges, knowing that while the editors blurred out the more scandalous parts, their asses would be on full display.

Nothing to be done for that.

She reached into her bag, shoving those thoughts aside, and pulled out the item she'd brought, grinning as she showed it to him. "I brought a fire starter."

He grinned at her in return, clearly relieved. "Thank fuck," he breathed out, reaching carefully into his own bag and pulling out a long, bladed weapon. "Machete." He unsnapped the cover, handing it over so she could examine the sharp steel blade. "It's Valyrian steel."

Dany glanced up at him. "Excellent. So, we can kill things, and cook them. Off to a good start!" She was going high-pitched and chirping again, and she tried to control her voice, but the way he looked when he smiled made her feel like she was blushing.

She reached down, pulling free the map, and unfolded it between them, gazing at the area displayed and mulling over possibilities. Jon spoke first, his eyes focused on the X scrawled some distance away from where they were now, down the jungle-like forests and steep cliffs, so the seashore to the south. "Looks like we'll need to make our way there for extraction."

Dany spotted a body of water on the drawing, not too terribly far from where they were, though it would be a decent hike. She pointed to it, humming in consideration. "We could try to make it here before nightfall. See if we can get a shelter put together, maybe score something to drink as well?"

Jon glanced up at the sky. It was nearly noon, but if they kept moving they could definitely get something thrown together by mid-afternoon, at least in Dany's estimation. "Sure," he finally said, gesturing for her to fold up the map. "It should be mostly downhill, too, so we won't have to spend up too much energy."

Dany shoved the map into her bag, orienting herself, then gesturing grandly. "Lead the way, Jon." When he didn't move, just stared at her, and cocked his head sideways, she shuffled nervously on her feet. "What?"

He gave her a slow half-smile. "Are you telling me to go first so that you get to look at my ass, instead of me looking at yours?"

She pressed her lips together tightly, so that she wouldn't let out her nervous laugh. "Jon," she said innocently, "I would never dream of it. That hadn't even occurred to me until you mentioned it."

"Okay, Dany," he said with a snort and a shrug. "Let's go."

That she contained the gasp that bubbled up, when he turned and began to stride away, must have been an indication that the Gods were on her side after all. Because his ass was absolutely glorious, a marvel of nature, and she was tempted to ask how he'd managed such firm perfection, but then he glanced back, to find her standing absolutely still.

"I can *feel* you staring at my ass." With a sharp barking laugh, he waved her on. "C'mon, before the sun goes down."

Dany complied, scurrying forward until she was a few feet behind him, rolling her eyes at his back. "I wasn't staring." Under her breath, she muttered, "It's hard to miss, though."

"I heard that," he replied, clearly amused, and pushed aside some low branches as they began their descent. "Watch your step."

---

JON, DAY 1

This was supremely unfair.

He thought he'd considered every possibility, had done copious amounts of research when he'd learned he'd be at Dragonstone, had assumed he was fully prepared for any eventuality.

A skilled partner would be good, a less-skilled perfectly acceptable. He made his living leading survivalist classes in the North, usually the rich, elite sort of couples who wanted to feel like they were 'roughing it', usually needing Jon to bail them out, with the always constant threat of death in the icy tundras and cold mountain peaks.

He had been ready for every outcome.

Except this one.

Old Gods take him, he'd gone and found himself with this woman as a partner, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could take it.

She was fucking beautiful.

Devastatingly beautiful, even without a stitch of makeup on, likely the sort of girl who just threw on clothes and ran a brush through their hair and declared themselves ready for the day, which was usually true. Her body was equally as magnificent, but he'd been relieved that she'd managed to hide her most scintillating parts from view. Mostly. Just looking at her made his mouth water, and he felt like the worst sort of pervert even glancing in her direction, grateful for his own bag as it concealed his persistently aroused state every time she came grunting back into the clearing with more materials for their walls and roof.

She was shorter than him, which was a fucking miracle, as he wasn't the tallest of men, certainly not in the North. But she barely reached his shoulder, though her small size did nothing to dissuade her from loading her arms down with palm fronds and hauling them to the shelter they were constructing with aplomb.

She knew what she was doing, too. She had gathered enough wood for the night as soon as they'd chosen this fairly flat stretch of land, a short walk to the blue, shining lake nearby, and had a fire going while he'd still been cutting limbs for their shelter framework.

She didn't complain, she worked steadily, though she had to be as thirsty as he was, insisting that they finish the shelter before they ventured out for water.

She was perfect, absolutely fucking perfect, and he was slowly going mad.

He shook himself, focusing instead on lashing two sturdy limbs together, the pair having agreed that a raised shelter would be best. There were all manner of insects on this island, some benign and some decidedly more malicious. He'd prefer not to wake up covered in bug bites, if it could be helped. This was going to be uncomfortable enough. He stood, stretching his back and then circling the frame he'd set up, testing the strength of the structure with several hard pushes when she reappeared again.

Dany walked over, tossing down another in the endless armload of greenery, and smiled up at him, before looking over the shelter again. "Looks good," she declared, and Jon found himself absurdly pleased in the face of her approval. "Think it'll hold us?"

Jon motioned to the pile of wood beside him. "We'll find out." He'd attached the walls in the design of a standard tent, forming a triangular structure in which the walls and roof were one in the same. It wasn't ideal, perhaps, but it was the quickest he could build, feeling the press of time as the sun began its journey towards the horizon. "If you want, you can start working those through the sides, so that maybe we can get this done with a little time to spare."

Dany was perfectly agreeable, or maybe she was just perfect, he wasn't sure. But she set to work, skillfully working the wide, leafy fronds through the thin saplings he'd attached to the main frame, the walls taking shape steadily as he set to work in securing the floor. If that didn't hold, they'd spend a miserable night on the ground, and primitive structure building was his specialty, or so he'd like to think. She'd provided the fire, and he'd be damned if he didn't prove his own usefulness today.

He set about finishing the mindless work, letting his hands work up a rhythm, clearing his mind of any and all thoughts of his partner, past his growing admiration for her work ethic.

He was definitely NOT thinking about her tits.

But they were great.

You'll get used to it, he scolded himself. In a few days you won't even notice she HAS tits.

He chuckled mirthlessly to himself. Not bloody likely, but maybe his cock would settle down, at least. He wasn't sure he'd be able to bear it if she noticed, and he focused every part of his mind not dedicated to the actions of his hands to the task of thinking of very unpleasant things.

Jon realized, with a start, that he was finished with the final tie-off, and he backed out of the almost-finished shelter to find Dany working nimbly on the second wall of their little lean-to.

"Nice work," he commented, making sure the most troublesome parts of his anatomy were at least partly concealed and standing just behind her, watching her work. Sweat was rolling off of him, now, though dusk would soon be upon them, and the thought of a drink was taunting him steadily.

He was thirsty enough, at least, to be only vaguely distracted by the shapely curve of her ass.

DON'T LOOK! The warning in his head had him moving his eyes to the treeline. He moved to the perimeter of their camp as she finished, tucking his machete away and looking down towards the dying glint of the sun on the lake just below them. "We ought to be far enough from the water that the bugs will give us some room. Fire should help with that, too."

She didn't say anything in response, and when he turned, he saw she'd completed the wall, and was standing a yard away from him, a smile ticking the corners of her lips up. "I appreciate that you're trying not to ogle me, Jon, but I'm not gonna get any less naked, and neither are you. We might as well get used to it."

He tried to look surprised, but he wasn't sure it was successful. "I don't know what you mean."

She snorted, her hand flying up to stifle her laugh as she sauntered over to him, pinning him with her odd, violet eyes. "I could *feel* you staring at my ass."

He couldn't help but chuckle, ducking his head as she began to laugh, as well. She swatted at his bicep, giving him an understanding look.

"Don't feel too bad, I stared at yours plenty." She began to walk, hips swaying in a way he decided was best ignored, picking a path down to the water. He followed, glaring playfully at her when she peeked over her shoulder at him, grinning.

"I knew it!"

He followed her merry laugh until they emerged from the trees and stepped carefully down to the muddy shore. She shrugged at him when he pulled even with her, both of them studying the water for a few seconds before their eyes met again. "What? It's really nice, what else was I supposed to look at?"

"Thanks," he said dryly, "I think." He was still laughing under his breath when he looked back to the lake's surface. He sighed, crossing his arms across his chest and looking around. "We're gonna have to boil it, before we drink it."

Dany nodded in agreement, her eyes landing on a nearby cluster of river cane, and she held out her hand. "Machete, please."

He studied her, for a beat, looking between Dany and the weapon before he handed it over. "We can't put those over the fire, you know," he said, watching as she cut down several thick canes. No doubt they could catch some rain water, if they set a few up, but fire would destroy the plant before the water boiled.

Dany walked back over, giving him a cheeky wink as she knelt and set about sectioning off one of the lengths, cutting several containers that would serve some purpose, he was sure. "Watch and learn, Jon. I know a little trick."

She handed back his machete, waiting 'til he'd secured it away before nodding at him to pick up the two sections that now resembled tall, thick tumblers. "Grab those and fill them up." She did the same, and smiled merrily as they walked in silence back to the camp.

"Now," she said, placing her own near the fire and waiting for him to do the same. "Let's see here." She stalked around the camp, crouching here and there to pick up smooth stones, until both her hands were filled with them. Then, she returned, placing them directly into the fire. "Now we wait."

He realized, in a flash, what she was up to, and gave her an appreciative smile. "I get it. If the rocks get hot enough, they'll boil the water for us." Dany nodded sagely and tapped at her temple with her finger, then at him.

"Bingo." She sighed, leaning back against a log he'd pulled near the fire ring, adjusting the back around her neck primly to cover the juncture of her thighs. He was silently thankful, because he'd like to be able to look her in the eye, and while he was studiously avoiding anything below the navel he was couldn't rule out an accidental peek. "So," she said amiably, "where in the North are you from, Jon?"

He started, mildly surprised. "How'd you know?"

She tipped her head to the side, fiddling with the end of her silver braid as she scoffed under her breath. "How do you think?"

Jon smirked. "Well, I don't have 'Hello, I'm Jon and I'm from the North' tattooed on my ass, so I guess it's the accent." She laughed, full and bright, and he couldn't help but grin at her. "Aye, you guessed it. I'm from Winterfell, but most of the time I'm up in the Flint Mountains, or out beyond the Wall."

Her eyes flared with interest, as she twisted the tail of her braid through her fingers. "Really? Doing what?"

"Survival 'Experiences', mostly," he said, making air quotes with his fingers. "Taking rich folk out into the icy wastes and showing them how to survive on snow melt and conserve body heat. Sometimes," he said, leaning forward as though he was imparting a great secret, "there's even game to catch."

"Sometimes?" She frowned, her lips quirking as her eyes sparkled in the firelight. "What about when there's not? Do you eat the weakest person?"

Jon grimaced, chortling as he stretched his legs out a flexed his toes, stretching his muscles. "Haven't had to yet. I normally take some supplies. Most of them aren't really there to learn survival, they just want a cool vacation story to tell their friends. If I'm not handing out jerky I'm taking pictures of them with the cellphones they aren't supposed to bring."

Dany gave him a surprisingly understanding smile. "I get it." Over and over again, she twirled the tip of her braid through her fingers, as though it was some nervous habit. "I actually have the same sort of job, just in much warmer climates. But cellphones are the bane of my existence. Like, are you here to learn primitive survival, or get pictures for your Instagram?" She made a disgusted noise and rolled her eyes. "I've come very close to tossing several iPhones into the Lyseni Sea."

Jon laughed again, taking up a stout tree limb that he'd shaved down earlier and stoking the fire with it. "I can imagine." He'd suspected she had some survival experience, but he found himself inordinately pleased that they had something so significant in common. Intellectually, he figured that made their chance of success, of lasting the entire twenty-one days, almost a sure bet. Personally, though, he found it made him like her even more.

She rose to her knees, her eyes on the stones in the flames, unaware of his silent musings. "I think we're ready," she said, and waved him closer. "Bring our beverages, good sir."

With a stupid grin on his face, he complied, bringing over the four they had filled, watching as she expertly balanced each stone between two sticks, dropping several into each container and smiling as a hiss sounded out, with each rock she added. Jon looked in the nearest, finding that, sure enough, in several moments he could see the water begin to stir, small bubbles rising as the rocks did the work of boiling and making the liquid palatable.

His mouth was so dry that his tongue felt tacky, and it was torture to wait until the water had cooled, but finally, Dany decreed them ready to drink. She raised one, holding it aloft, clearly expecting him to do the same. "Cheers, Jon. Day one and we've got water, fire and shelter. I think this is the start of an excellent partnership."

She tipped her container against his, and he did the same, relaxing as he finally drank the tepid water, thinking that while it carried a bit of ashy flavor, it was the best thing he'd had to drink in sometime. "Cheers, Dany."

---

DANY, DAY FOUR

So far, she thought, she had really lucked out when it came to her partner.

Granted, they hadn't hit any roadblocks yet in securing the essentials, though food remained elusive as she blinked awake on the morning of their fourth day. She'd found a few paltry grubs, and some barely ripe bananas in the past few days, but that was it. They'd work on that today, she thought, marveling at how warm she was. She had known before coming that at the higher elevations of Dragonstone, the temperature could drop steeply as the sun went down, but this morning, unlike yesterday, she felt as though she were covered by a large, warm blanket.

She shifted, and realized it wasn't a blanket.

It was Jon.

Spooned up behind her.

A war erupted inside her, because while she was beginning to numb to his hotness overall, they'd kept touching to a minimum. The last three nights, they'd lay near each other, but clearly, last night, they'd decided to spoon together for warmth, and something that definitely wasn't a spoon, but clearly belonged to Jon, was nudging the small of her back.

Releasing a long, slow breath, she slipped from under his arm, hoping he didn't wake up, knowing he'd be far more embarrassed than she was when he realized how awake certain parts of him were. He couldn't help it, it was the sort of thing that just happened, but she had to hand it to him: he'd been an absolute gentleman thus far, always keeping his eyes on hers. If he did peek at her, he did it when she wasn't looking, and they'd reached a certain equilibrium with each other. The nudity was just incidental, now.

She crawled out of their shelter, stretching her arms above her head and yawning as she gazed at the sunrise. It really was a beautiful place, Dragonstone. She could see why her ancestors had come here, the gold and pink painting the sky almost taking her breath away. It was peaceful here, in a way home wasn't, and she thought wryly that she'd expected this experience to be a bit more grueling.

Though, there was still food to find, she mused, circling back to her original thought. She added wood to the fire, grateful there were still embers that flared up as she worked the flames higher. Today, she'd weave some fish baskets, and see if she could catch some of the fat silver fish she'd seeing swimming along the shore of the lake.

She heard the rustling of leaves behind her, and the groan she'd come to expect from Jon when he first woke up. He tended to be quiet and a little grumpy, she'd found, but not towards her. He'd perk up within an hour or so, she knew, so she set about her own work, waiting until a cheery blaze was going before she set off under the canopy of trees, searching for enough vine to make her traps.

By the time she'd returned, ropy vine wound around her arms and torso, he was clear-eyed, boiling water he'd clearly collected while she'd been gone, easily mastering the technique she'd shown him their first day.

"Morning," he grunted, handing over a drink to her as she settled herself against what she'd come to think of as 'her' log.

"Morning," she answered, uncoiling the vine and scurrying to the shelter to retrieve his machete.

Jon studied her as she worked, not in an uncomfortable sort of way, more curious than anything. As she began to weave the vine around the loose structure she'd formed, he figured it out. "Fish trap," he said, nodding to the one taking shape in her hands. "Awesome. I'm so fucking hungry." She knew it was true, could hear his stomach growling from where he sat a few feet away. He scrubbed his hands over his face, mindless to the ash and dirt he smeared there. They were both beyond that worry now, though she was considering a dip in the lake later if they had time.

She moaned as well, her own tummy rumbling. "Me too." She waved at the semi-completed fish trap before her. "Hence the traps."

Jon scratched at his jaw, appearing to consider their options. "I'll go check my snares and deadfalls, if you like, while you keep at it. Don't have much use for fish traps up North. 'Least not where I fish."

"Really?" Dany gave him small smile, as she wove another circle of vine. "Why not?"

Jon stood, satisfied the fire had been fed enough to last for awhile, and straightened his pack, checking his machete once before taking off. "Because," he said lazily, "every bloody lake is frozen over." He smirked then walked to Dany's right, off to check on the first of his traps. She watched him go, not bothering to hide her focus on his ass, doubting he would notice or even care at this point.

"You're doing it again, Dany. It's like lasers, focused on my ass."

She laughed, barely caring that she'd been caught. The only way they'd found to break the occasional, vaguely sexual tension between them sometimes was to joke about it, so she would just go with the flow. "You wish, Jon!" She waited 'til she heard him laugh in response. "Bring back some food!" Her yell was directed as his retreating form, then she refocused herself, intent on having both traps ready by the time he returned.

The sun had risen a fair bit higher when he came back, and when she heard him whistling, she felt a thrill run through her. If he was cheerful enough to whistle, then he had to have—

"Food," Jon sang out, and sure enough, thrown over his shoulder was a decently-sized snake, fat and obviously well-fed by the local rodent population, by the looks of him. The creature was headless, no doubt thanks to Jon's blade, and Dany could feel her mouth already watering as he sauntered over. "I return victorious."

She felt her brow wrinkle as she leapt to her feet, having just finished stoking the fire and boiling up some clean drinking water. "You caught this in a deadfall?"

He shook his head. "Nope."

Dany frowned. "No way you caught that in a snare."

Jon shook his head again. "I certainly didn't." He sat near her, pulling out his machete once more, nicking the snake skin and beginning to peel it from the body in one smooth motion. "Nearly stepped on him when I got done checking my *empty* traps, thank the Gods."

Her stomach began to growl anew. "Do you know how to cook that?"

Jon presented her with the now-cleaned snake. "I was hoping you had some pointers, actually. It's too cold for snakes in the North. But I'm up for learning."

She liked the way he put things. He didn't expect her to, necessarily, but he seemed endlessly willing to admit that there were things he didn't know, and open to her advice, a rarity amongst the men she'd become familiar with in the survival circuit here in the South.

Maybe in the North they grew them differently, she thought, holding out her hands greedily. "Gimme." She cast an eye to the snake's entrails. "And let's save those, we'll use them as bait in the fish traps." For the next ten minutes, she showed Jon everything she knew about how to prepare snake meat, going over options for open-roasting and steaming, even foraging about in the brush for a wild variety of herb that they could use to season the meat a bit.

An hour later, they each held a large chunk of snake, speared by sharpened sticks, grinning madly at each other. "Never had snake before," Jon said blithely. "Does it really taste like chicken?"

Dany gave an evil laugh, and took a large, hearty bite, chewing with clear enjoyment as he watched, trying to gauge her reaction. She swallowed, letting her head fall back. "Maybe? I don't know." She prepared to take another bite, and held his eyes with hers. "Who cares, it's fucking delicious!"

Finally, though still appearing cautious, he took a bite. Then his eyes closed, as if consumed by bliss, and he proceeded to devour several skewers in rapid succession while she watched, rather amazed. "Oh Gods," he managed, his mouth still full, "so good." She could handle the simple, innocent joy on his face. She felt it too, as she tucked into her second skewer, savoring each morsel of food that passed her lips. She understood completely.

What she could NOT handle, as night fell, and she face the prospect of being pressed against him in her sleep, were the sounds he was making, sounds of almost carnal pleasure that made her cheeks flush and caused a stirring of desire to rise up.

NOT NOW. You are gross and smelly and disgusting. You are being filmed. You are a grown woman. Control yourself!

She tried to tune him out, the remembrance of the camera set up on a nearby tree enough to make her remember herself. It was easy to forget they were there. During the day, a lone cameraperson would be with them almost the entire day, but at night they had only their handheld camera, that could capture them in night vision if they wished, and one stationary that would film them when they were outside the shelter.

Their necklaces, which gave the appearance of shells but really housed small mics, caught every sound they made.

This was NOT the time to lose her mind over a man.

Ardor cooled, she finished eating, making sure to sip at her water between, knowing her stomach wasn't used to such a full meal and willing herself to go easy.

Jon seemed to have concluded the same, slowing down and looking so sated and drowsy that she thought that must be what he looked like, when he'd been fucked well, within an inch of his life.

STOP IT, DANY!

Gods, she really didn't know what had gotten into her. Missy had been right – she should have gotten laid before she went on this little adventure, if only to take the edge off her disturbingly increasing lust. No one, absolutely no one, should look as terrifyingly attractive as he did, under three layers of smoke and dirt and sweat, but here she was, drooling over him and hopefully able to pass it off as excitement over her food.

"Thanks, Jon. This is really great." He glanced up at her quiet praise, his brow slightly furrowed.

Then he shook his head, and gave her a silly little grin. "Teamwork, Dany. Couldn't have done it without your help."

That night, as the temperatures dipped ever lower, and they filmed their usual summation of the day on Jon's handheld camera, she felt him shift beside her, trying to get comfortable. She knew she was going to start shivering soon, could feel it building. He was going to end up curled against her anyway, so she figured to hell with it.

"Jon?"

Her back was to him, but she knew he'd turned towards her, could feel his breath on the back of her neck. "Hmmmm?"

She huffed out a nervous laugh. "Could we just go ahead and do 'big spoon, little spoon' before we go to sleep? We keep ending up like that anyway."

He shifted again, and she knew without seeing his body that he was probably tensed and nervous. "We do?"

She rolled over, suddenly, her suspicions confirmed as she found him looking worried and alarmed. "You sleep like the dead, Jon. But yes, we do end up like that, so big spoon me already so I don't shiver to death."

His eyes widened, but he relaxed a little, clearly relieved their sleeping habits hadn't upset her. "Okay," he whispered, then twirled his finger around, lips twitching. "Turn over."

She smiled in the dark, as he carefully, pressed against her, and she could feel he'd move his woven bag to shield his groin from her back. Very thoughtful, if unnecessary, but she thought he might pass out from shock if she told him his erection had woken her up that morning. He threaded his arm under her head, and she felt him wrap his other around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

They didn't say anything, for a long while, but as she felt sleep finally creeping in, she heard him whisper again.

"Good night, little spoon."

---

JON, DAY SEVEN

"Jon!"

He looked up, watching Dany rush into their clearing, her fish baskets in tow. He didn't know if the sudden rush of warmth he felt was from his guess that those baskets weren't empty, and they were going to eat again, or if it was just *her*.

He'd gotten relatively used to seeing her naked, and she seemed to have reached the same state, as they hardly even noticed their undressed state anymore. At this point, it felt kind of normal. As normal as it could, at least, when there were video cameras pointed at you almost all the time.

Their focus was on survival, now, the very real threat of starvation or dehydration or hypothermia, in the night, and so the fact that they were unclothed was just a state of being.

He put down the sturdy branch he'd been sharpening into a makeshift spear, walking over to take one basket, weighing it appreciatively in his hand and smiling widely. "Feels like lunch!"

Dany gave him a bright grin, shaking hers. "And dinner!"

Jon peered into the basket he held, marveling at the fat silver fish inside. "Aha!" His triumphant cry echoed around them, scaring off some stray birds that had been annoying the shit out of him all morning. "Tonight, we feast!"

She chuckled, and he wondered for what seemed the millionth time why this undertaking seemed far easier than he'd anticipated. Sure, they'd gone a few days between full meals, but between the two of them, they'd managed to scrounge together insects and the meager fruits to be found at this elevation to tide them over. Their shelter had held together nicely, warm enough at night that their body heat was enough to keep them toasty. He'd even gotten used to being the big spoon, though outside of this experience he hadn't really considered himself a cuddler.

It just felt natural, when the sun went down, to pull her close and mold his body to hers.

He tried to tell himself it was just to stay warm. And it was, to large degree.

But he liked being that close to her. They were both filthy, though they'd scrubbed off as best they could down at the lake, but that didn't stop him from being intoxicated by the smell at the nape of her neck.

He ducked his head, as though she might be able to read his mind, and focused instead on pulling out the fish he'd caught. "You're my hero, Dany. This is fucking great."

Dany looked so happy, in that moment, that it was a real struggle, not to kiss her. There were several enormous reasons why that was a bad idea, the least of which was probably the horrible breath he likely had. She gave a little curtsy, then set to work pulling out four fish from her basket, setting them on the flat stone he'd acquired for cleaning game.

When she knelt beside him and unsheathed his blade, he shook his head and shooed her away. "Nope, no way. You caught it, I'll clean it."

Dany just stared at him for a moment, a slow smile spreading her lips wide, and she nodded, finally grinning as she settled back against her log and closed her eyes. "Fair enough. I'll be right here, basking in the majesty of my fishing prowess."

Jon laughed, setting to work scraping off scales and disemboweling the fish. He set aside the entrails, figuring she'd need more bait if they were to catch more fish, and glanced over to find her peeking at him through slitted lids.

"Hey, Dany?" He kept working, setting aside the filets as he finished them. She opened her eyes fully. "I'm really glad you're my partner."

She sat up a little straighter, then leaned forward, hugging her knees with her arms and watching him work. "Me too, big spoon." She tapped at her chin, pretending to think, barely able to keep a straight face. "We make a good team." Then she winked at him. "Now, less talking, more cleaning."

---

DANY, DAY FOURTEEN

She was feeding the fire, one of the constants in their day-to-day routines, and considering that she'd need to drag in more wood, when she heard a triumphant cry in the distance.

Grinning, she cocked her head, listening, hearing her partner crashing through the underbrush quickly. She glanced at the videographer, who was crouched nearby, filming silently. "Sounds like Jon's caught something."

Sure enough, he emerged, her grimy Northern Tarzan, and she felt a pulse of heat, the one she'd come to expect. Maybe it was just being out here, alone save for the occasional cameraperson, just the two of them against the wilderness, but every day she wanted him a little bit more.

She snickered to herself, half-grimacing at the notion that they were both equally gross after two weeks here, and at least she wouldn't have to be self-conscious about her rather limited hygiene. Jon's eyes lit up when his gaze landed on her, and the hand he held behind his back emerged with not one, but two wild birds.

His deadfalls and snares had been ineffective with the ground game on Dragonstone, and so he'd reverted to a back-up plan, inspired by her fish traps, he said. He'd built several bird traps that he explained had been shown to him by the people who lived north of the great Wall of ice, and she felt a ripple of pride that he'd been successful.

She really couldn't have asked for a better partner. Carl, the other cameraman, had told them yesterday that he and Lisa were a little jealous, that Jon and Dany's shelter and amenities had now outstripped their own meager tent, which had amused the pair greatly. Dany had joked they could trade, which Carl had assured them was against the rules, but now, as Jon waved around the wild birds he'd caught, she couldn't resist a dig at the cameraman.

"Look's like we're having a lovely dinner tonight, Carl." She beamed at Jon, then stood, taking the birds in hand and feeling the plump flesh under the feathers. These were ground birds, so they'd be a little less gamey than the small pigeons that flocked about. "Too bad you and Lisa get your freeze-dried whatever."

"Spaghetti." Carl made a disgusted face from a distance, where he held a boom mike in their direction. "It's freeze-dried spaghetti tonight."

Jon and Dany exchanged a look, wrinkling their noses, though Dany would probably wring Carl's neck if it meant a big, heaping plate of real spaghetti. With meatballs. And garlic bread.

Carl sighed in agreement, then pointed the camera back at them, trying his best to be unobtrusive as Dany set to work cleaning the birds and Jon fetched some boiled water to sip at. "You know, you two are making it look far too easy."

Dany looked up, her tongue caught between her teeth as she smiled. "Best vacation ever," she trilled, and heard Jon chuckle in agreement. "I mean, honestly, Jon, I feel like we've made Dragonstone our bitch at this point."

Jon laughed again, raising his makeshift cup in salute, but she saw his eyes tick to the sky. They'd been lucky thus far, avoiding the torrential rains which could last for days, but she'd seen what he was now looking at: thunderheads building up on the horizon.

Carl seemed to pick up on their concern, glancing up at the sky as well. "You didn't hear it from me," he whispered, "but it's gonna be a wet one tonight. Best get ready."

Jon frowned at the man. "That's cheating, Carl," he admonished, but threw Dany a wink.

Carl just shrugged, and raised his camera back to his shoulder. "What can I say, I'm rooting for you two kids. You're the first I've filmed that haven't tried to rip each other's heads off by now. Then again, most people make this look a lot harder than you lot have."

"We're just really, really amazing at this, I guess." Jon tried to sound nonchalant, but his optimism was contagious, and Dany couldn't help but think that the last week they spent here would go by in a flash. Their biggest hurdle now was their extraction, and they'd even planned for that, spending their evenings by the fire going over their map, plotting the best course down the rugged terrain and down to sea level to meet the boat that would be waiting for them.

Dany stuck her tongue out at Jon, giggling at bit at his slight bragging. They had every reason to, the pair of them. Hells, at this point she was eating so well she was starting to wonder if she was going to gain weight instead of losing it over this three week span.

Jon, as well, showed no signs of being worse for the wear. They'd been able to stay upbeat, and positive, no doubt thanks to regularly eating and access to clean water. But in addition to that, Dany had discovered she genuinely liked him, as a person. He was smart, and patient, and very adaptable, all necessary for someone in their line of work. He had a wicked sense of humor as well, very dry and acerbic, the sort that would sneak up on her in some random comment he would make that would have her doubled over in short order.

The fact that he was extraordinarily easy on the eyes was just the cherry on top, at this point.

And she was starting to feel a peculiar ache, because she'd grown so very used to being around him, now. There was only a week left, and she found herself wishing time would go a little slower. She was going to miss him, when this was over.

She wouldn't think about that now, though. She'd do it later, when she went home, alone, to her apartment, with her dogs for company. At least it would be an awesome memory. A guy like Jon obviously had a girlfriend, if not a wife.

"Hey, Dany?" Jon was standing by the shelter, now, and she looked up from plucking the birds, noticing Carl was packing up for the morning and ambling away. Jon rubbed at the back of his neck, which she now knew from his constant company meant he was thinking, and a little worried. "While you do that I'm going to see if I can extend the shelter out a little bit. We need to protect the fire."

"Ahhh," Dany said gamely. "I was just thinking we need a front porch."

He grinned at her, then nodded. "Especially if we're going to be trapped in here in a fucking deluge."

She grew serious, eyeing their walls. "Yes, alright. When I wrap this up I'll add some more to the walls, there, try to get it as leak-proof as I can before tonight."

Dany wasn't sure she'd ever grow used to his appreciative looks, not in the 'hey I think you're hot and I want to bone you', sort of way, more of a 'wow you have such good ideas' variety which made her feel stupidly gooey on the inside.

"Awesome," he said. He made to leave the clearing, leaving her alone to finish cleaning their newest catch, then he turned, and wiggled his eyebrows at her. "I have a surprise for you later, by the way. Don't let me forget."

With a small measured smile, she nodded. "Okay, Jon. I won't."

By the time the clouds started to roll in, rumbles of thunder signaling their approach, Jon had managed to enclose their fire on three sides, allowing them access to it from their shelter without getting wet. Dany, for her part, had done as promised, and reinforced the walls, hoping she'd managed to weave the fronds together tightly enough to create a barrier against the coming rains.

She'd also, with Jon's help, gathered every spare stick of dry wood she could find, as the birds had cooked, knowing they'd be left with slim pickings once the storm hit. They had at least two days' worth, by her estimation, stacked against one side of the shelter, and she was pleased that they seemed to be prepared, as best they could be, at least.

With their food finished and tucked away, ready to be eaten later, Jon sidled up to her, with a big grin on his face. "Look what I found." He pulled several thick plants from his bag, and she stared at them with growing wonder as she realized what he'd found.

"Yucca?!" She clapped her hands together with glee. "You know what we can make from that?"

"Soap," he whispered joyfully, and shook the plants. "We need to grind it down first, but honestly, if we're going to be stuck in there for a few days together, we ought to at least smell decent."

"Oh my god," she moaned, euphoric at the idea of actually being somewhat clean. "I love you so much right now." She grabbed at the plants, finding rocks that would work and waving him to sit beside her, handing him one smooth stone. "Best big spoon a girl could as for."

Jon laughed loudly, then mirrored her actions. "Well, little spoon, we better be quick about it, if we want to head down to the lake and take a real-life jungle bath."

Working together, they managed to turn the meaty roots into a thick paste in fairly short order, and she was nearly skipping at his side as they found their way to the lake. She pulled the elastic from the end of her braid, wincing at the grimy feel of her hair as she unbound it from the style. "Can I ask a favor?"

Jon looked up, setting aside the container they'd put their primitive shampoo into with curious eyes. "Sure."

She flicked a hand at her hair. "I think I'm going to need your help with this."

Jon eyed her loose hair, seeing it trail over her shoulders and down her back. "Yeah," he finally said on an exhale. "You are. That's a lot of bloody hair." She took off her pack, leaving it on the shore and wading into the water, gnawing at her bottom lip as she could feel his eyes on her back. "Go ahead and get it soaked and I'll help you out."

Dany walked out until the water just brushed against her breasts, then dunked her head under, letting the water soak into her dirty hair until she could feel it on her scalp.

When she surfaced, his eyes were the first thing she saw, then he looked away, the tips of his ears turning red as he took off his own bag and hurriedly entered the water, approaching cautiously and handing her the container of yucca paste. "Here," he said somewhat brusquely, then cupped his hands for her to pour out some of the concoction.

She turned, allowing him to lather the length of her silver hair in surprisingly gentle hands, feeling his blunt nails scrape against her scalp as he worked. She couldn't fight her low moan, feeling his hands still for a moment before he kept going, and she was glad he was behind her, that he couldn't see the furious blush that arose as she realized how she sounded.

Silence fell, but finally, as his hands moved down the length of her hair, she spoke. "If the whole survival training thing doesn't work out, you could make good money shampooing hair."

That drew a rumbling laugh from him, as he finished, and he took the container and indicated she ought to rinse her hair. When she came back up, spluttering for air, he was still smiling. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, then pulled the band from his own hair, black curls sticking to his head as he looped it over his wrist and poured out the gooey mix into his hand again. She took the cup as he made short work of his own hair, pretending she wasn't watching the way his arms flexed as he scrubbed at himself vigorously.

Their eyes caught and held, as water ran from his now clean hair, and there was that tension again, and she really knew she ought to call it what it was. Attraction. But it couldn't go anywhere, and certainly not right now, so she'd just appreciate the view and get herself clean. They took turns, then, and she primly turned her back when they went into shallower water to wash the rest of themselves, something oddly intimate about running her hands over her body in front of him, even though they'd seen each other, naked as their namedays, for two weeks now.

He was already out of the water when she was done, studiously averting his eyes as he waited for her to gather her things, and together, they walked back to camp.

That night, as the rain beat against the side of their shelter, was the most tense, least restful night of sleep she'd had.

---

JON, DAY TWENTY-ONE

Jon stood on the shore, holding Dany in his arms like a baby, his eyes finding no sweeter sight than the boat that was idling off in the distance. "There it is," he murmured to his injured partner. She'd sprained her ankle as they'd come down the cliffs, and he'd carried her the rest of the way on his back, her weight next to nothing as he'd gotten them the rest of the way to the finish line, determined they would do this together.

He set her down, gently, watching her test her weight on her swollen right foot and wince, hissing. "Fuck," she spat. "I think I can swim like this," she said, assessing the distance to the boat, "but it's going to be slow going."

Jon shook his head. "C'mon. You can just lock your arms around my neck and I'll swim us both there. You'll float, anyway, I promise you won't weigh me down," he continued as she shook her head, ready to argue. "Dany, we're so close. Let me do this, little spoon."

It had become an endearment now, and she finally gave him a tiny smile. "Alright," she assented at last, and they gave one last look to the island that had been their home for three weeks before he picked her up again, carrying her past the breaking waves until they could both float reasonably well.

"Grab on," he yelled, trying to be heard above the boat engine and the rushing waves.

She did, her voice tickling his ear as she leaned in close, and it was a testament to his rapidly fading honor that he barely felt her breasts, full and round, pressed against his back. "Lead on, big spoon."

He wrapped a hand around hers, where they joined against his neck, and squeezed, then set off, in smooth strokes, until he was grabbing at the ladder of the boat and letting Dany clamber up his back and onto the deck first.

He climbed up right behind, panting, covered in salt water and exhausted, but when she began to laugh and hoot and cheer he joined in without a second thought.

"We did it!" Dragonstone was fading in the distance, and she raised her arms in celebration, pumping them up and down and beaming at him from the bench seat across from his. "Can you believe it?"

He held his fist out for her to bump against it, chuckling. "Never a doubt in my mind."

He saw the flicker of sadness on her face, as she glanced back at the island. "I'm gonna miss that place."

I'm gonna miss you, he thought, but he didn't say it. This wasn't the time or the place.

He understood the melancholy in her tone, though, and hoped that it wasn't just the island she would miss. But he wasn't sure what to say, even when the time was right, because he was fairly certain that blurting out his suspicions, that he was maybe sort-of in love with her, wouldn't be appropriate.

When they left here, they'd be thousands of miles apart, anyway. Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe it was just so much time spent together, and once he got home, his feelings would fade.

Dany stood, limping over to plop down on the bench seat next to him, and leaned her head against his arm, closing her eyes. "Let's eat huge cheeseburgers when they get us to a hotel, Jon."

He laughed, and took her hand, lacing their fingers together, unable to stop himself. "Deal."

---

DANY, SIX MONTHS LATER

She sat on her couch, in her quiet apartment, dogs laying in a lump at her feet.

Clicking the remote button, she turned the TV off, swiping up at her cheek and realizing, with considerable surprise, that she was crying.

Dany shook her head, scrubbing her hands across her face and under her eyes. It wasn't a surprise.

She was a wreck.

And she had been since she'd said goodbye to Jon at the airport, after she'd hugged him tightly and they'd exchanged cell numbers and promised to talk often.

Tonight was the first time she'd seen his face, as their episode aired, in three months, at least.

When they'd first gone home they'd texted almost every day, and FaceTimed, and she had been incongruously happy at the decided flirty tone things had taken.

But then, a few months ago, he'd told her he was heading up to the far North, home to ice and snow and no cell phone signal or internet. She knew enough about his business, now, to know he had been heading into his busy quarter of survival classes and groups, and she couldn't begrudge him making money, could she?

He had a life and a job far away from her.

But now, as she replayed that final little snippet of interview in her mind, where the producers had obviously travelled to the North to see how he was recovering from their Dragonstone expedition, she couldn't get his words out of her mind.

'Dany was the best partner I could have asked for. And even though I haven't gotten to reconnect with her in person yet, I hope to soon. She's my #1 Little Spoon, for sure.'

Then he'd laughed and ducked his head, and she had been nearly sick with the realization that somewhere between the nudity and hunting and nights huddled together for warmth, she might have fallen in love with him.

Her cellphone buzzed, and she sniffed away her remaining tears, unsure what to expect when she saw Missy's number on the caller ID.

"Hello?"

Missy let out a screech so loud Dany had to pull the phone away from her ear. It was just a jumble of sound, her friend talking so fast she couldn't make it out.

"Use your words, Missy! Slow down!"

She heard Missy take several breaths. "Okay, Dany, first of all, YOUR PARTNER WAS CRAZY HOT HOW DID YOU NOT JUMP HIM?!"

Dany felt her brows raise. "That's your first question?"

Missy laughed. "Yes, 'Little Spoon'," she answered emphatically. "Oh my god, Dany. You guys are like, perfect for each other. How are you not already living with this man?"

Dany scoffed, picking at a stray thread on the throw pillow in her lap. "He lives in the North, Missy. And here I am, far, far away." She heard Missy's sound of protest, but pressed on. "I mean, I can't even call him right now, anyway. He's doing some wilderness camp and probably freezing his balls off."

Missy's voice dropped so low that Dany knew she was trying to keep Grey from overhearing. "Speaking of balls," her friend drawled, "what are we talking, in terms of, you know, the merchandise?"

Dany knew she was turning scarlet, could feel her cheeks grow hot, and she hid her face in her hand. "Oh, Gods, Missy!" She giggled, then whispered, "Breathtaking. Very, very nice."

Her friend cackled maniacally. "I KNEW IT!" As her laughter slowed, Dany felt it again, another pang of loneliness that seemed decidedly Jon-shaped. "What are you going to do, Dany?" When she didn't answer right away, Missy continued. "You're obviously into him. What are you gonna do?"

Dany stood, pacing by the large windows that overlooked the city, wondering yet again why she'd picked this place when she preferred something closer to nature. "I don't know," she answered quietly.

Missy was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment, but when she next spoke she sounded firm and determined. "You're done with your classes for the quarter, right?"

Dany frowned to herself. "Well, yes, but—"

"No, no, no buts. Except for Jon's. Good lord, what an ass." With a chuckle, Missy let out a sigh. "You have to go to him. In the North. Go and declare your undying love for him. Or lust. Whichever. But look, seeing the two of you together, it was just," there was a pause, then another laugh, "like I just knew there was something there."

Dany raised her hand to her lips, chewing nervously at the nail on her index finger, considering. "Really?"

"YES!" Her friend's response was nearly a shout, and she held the phone away and winced at it before putting it back to her ear. "GO TO HIM!" Exasperated, Missy didn't relent. "Take a fucking chance, Dany!"

"Okay." Even she was surprised that she agreed, breathless, as her heart began to race. "Okay. I gotta go." She disconnected the call before Missy could reply, walking as though she was in a trance to her laptop, her mind turning over possibilities.

She spent the rest of the night making preparations, finding the lodge he hosted his excursions out of easily enough, making flight reservations and hurriedly shooting off an email to her mother to collect her puppers while she was gone.

When she fell asleep, finally, exhausted, the sun was barely rising, and she dreamed of Jon's body curled behind her, his heart thumping steadily against her back, his arm wrapped around her as the jungle sang them to sleep.

---

JON, ONE WEEK LATER

He was at his place up in the Flint Mountains, a bit of a personal retreat that he liked to escape to between sessions, when there came a loud banging at the door.

Jon's cabin wasn't overly large, but it didn't need to be, considering it was just him and Ghost. And when the wolfhound made no sign of distress, he knew who it had to be. "Door's open, Tormund," he yelled out, stacking cordwood by the large hearth that was blazing away, the heat welcome as the temperatures outside continued to drop.

"Snow!" Tormund's voice boomed out from the front door, sounding suspiciously merry. "Got a delivery for you!"

Jon laughed under his breath, tugging down the sleeves of his cable knit sweater and brushing off his hands on his jeans as he rounded the corner, to find his large, ginger bearded friend grinning at him. "Well?" Tormund just blinked at Jon's question. "Where is it then? You wouldn't have flown up here ahead of a blizzard empty-handed, you great oaf."

Tormund's blue eyes twinkled, and he took a large step aside to reveal a smaller figure standing behind him, bundled in furs, her face just peeking out of her hooded jacket.

"Hi, Jon." She gave a little nervous wave, her smile hesitant, as though she wasn't sure whether he'd be happy to see her.

Which was monumentally ridiculous, because he'd never been so happy to see someone in his whole life, and he didn't say a word, just rushed across the room and grabbed her up, lifting until her feet left the floor, hugging her as tightly as her multiple layers would allow.

"Dany?" His gasping question made her nod, and he tucked his head against hers, just breathing for a moment, willing himself not to do something embarrassing, especially not in front of Tormund.

He put her back on the ground, gently, shocked and deliriously happy as he helped her slide her hood back, revealing that familiar silver hair that had haunted his dreams for months. "I can't believe you're here," he whispered, and hugged her again, fiercely.

"I hope I'm not intruding," she said, giggling and grinning at him. "I just missed you, I guess."

He smiled down at her, finally daring to hope that what he saw in her eyes, was precisely as what dwelt within him.

Then he realized Tormund was glancing between the two of them, grinning absurdly, and he glowered at the man. "You can be off, friend. Thanks for the delivery."

Tormund nodded sagely, hands joining together in front of him. "Oh, of course." With a wink towards Dany, he chuckled. "Anything for the 'Little Spoon' here."

Jon groaned. "Oh, Gods," he muttered, "has it aired already?"

Tormund rubbed his hands together and smirked evilly. "Oh, yes, Snow, and you'd best believe all the ladies in Winter Town will be clamoring for you to pay a visit, so they can make sure your arse is just a tight in person."

Jon glared at his friend, horrified, only slightly reassured when Dany collapsed against his side in a fight of uncontained laughter. "Tormund," he said, heaving a tired sigh. "Please be off. You're going to get shut in by the storm, if you don't, and just for that little dig, you aren't staying here."

Tormund laughed again, pulling his fur hood back on and preparing to step back out into the cold, gray afternoon. His eyes twinkled knowingly, even as Jon scowled at him, praying the man would chill, just a fucking bit, and not embarrass him thoroughly in front of his guest. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, Snow. You've already got company." With a waggle of his bushy red brows, he was off, leaving Dany and Jon standing before the door, staring at each other.

He still felt a little shocked, unable to believe she was actually there. Jon felt like he ought to stop mooning over her, tone it down a bit, so he glanced around, gesturing at the open space that served as several rooms. "You want a look around?"

Dany nodded, and he realized his assessment, that first day on the island, had been absolutely correct. If she was wearing makeup, it wasn't obvious, but she looked as windswept and beautiful as a fair maiden from the Northern fairytales he'd grown up on, her cheeks pinked from the cold, her lips full and rosy, eyes framed in dark lashes.

She shrugged out of her heavy furs before following him, revealing her own slim jeans and a thick black sweater that hugged curves he'd memorized for twenty-one glorious days.

He walked her through the cabin he'd built a few years back, each year; during the two month 'warm season' each year he added a little on, here and there, and it was almost perfect, almost done. It was a simple A-frame, with the lower section consisting of a open kitchen and living area, with a small bathroom set to the back. Upstairs, accessed by stairs he'd added last year to replace a rather rickety ladder, was the loft that served as his bedroom.

Jon had done most of the work itself, and it was one of the things he was most proud of, each space between the logs chinked and reinforced by his own hand, until he had a little sliver of peace from the world, where he could hide away from anyone and anything.

It *had* been almost perfect, but now it was perfect, because she was here. And he realized, with a start, that he was getting way ahead of himself, that she might simply just have missed his companionship and dear Gods, what if she had come up here just to visit a 'friend'?

Dany oohed and aahed over everything, complementing his work with each new revelation, examining the mantel he'd carved and turning to him with wide, appreciative violet eyes. "It's beautiful, Jon. Just wonderful." She turned in a slow circle by the fire, eyes taking everything in once the short tour was concluded, and let out a light sigh. "I can see why you come here. It seems very peaceful." She bit at her lip, and he knew, from so long in her constant company, what that meant. She was nervous. She wrinkled her nose, fingers of one hand sliding into the dark fabric of her sleeve to toy with the edge. "I hope I haven't mucked up your time off, truly. I actually came to the lodge you host your tours out of, but no one was there, and then Tormund came out of the office, and said you were here, and he *obviously* recognized me—"

Her rushed explanation was cut off when he clapped his hand over her mouth. "Dany," he said, with a broad grin, feeling her lips curve in response against his palm. "I'm glad you're here. Really. Like, really, stupidly pleased."

She was wearing the same silly smile he was when he withdrew his hand, but then she got a wicked gleam in her eye, and ran her tongue across her teeth. "Can I confess something?"

Jon's eyes darted around the room, in mock consideration. "Of course."

"It's a little weird," she whispered, taking a step closer, tugging at his cream-colored sweater, "seeing you with your clothes on." He snorted, a laugh wheezing out, because she was oddly right. He had grown so used to seeing her in nothing, that fully-clothed Dany was a little bit of a mystery to him.

"True," he drawled, eyes narrowing playfully. "But if you are on your best behavior we can play strip poker later and you can get your fill. I'm sick of playing with Ghost, he always beats me."

She cackled madly, laughing so hard she was nearly doubled over, her eyes wet as she struggled to breathe, clearly picturing him playing cards with just his big white dog. "You're mad, I swear."

Jon just shrugged, and walked towards the kitchen, putting the kettle on top of the squat, widebellied iron stove. "And yet here you are, come all this way just to visit mad Jon Snow. What does that say about you, Dany?"

She followed, sucking in a sharp breath through her teeth. "Yikes, good point. Maybe we're both mad. Definitely mad enough to spend three weeks naked with a stranger, with video cameras following us around."

He gave her a quick smile, then rummaged around for his tea tin, shaking it at her in offering and glad when she nodded emphatically. "Yes, please."

Jon grabbed two thick ceramic mugs, then turned, surprised anew that it was really Dany, here, in his cabin, just when he'd missed her most. It was an ache that had grown sharp and hot in his chest, one that was fed each day that he woke up somewhere other than that shelter out in the Dragonstone wilderness, with her body snugged up against his. He didn't know how to describe it, really. It had just felt right, felt like the most natural thing in the world, and ever since, everything had just been *off*.

"I guess we're just two mad peas in a pod, then."

---

DANY, LATER THAT NIGHT

After a surprisingly tasty stew, and several glasses of the ale that had grown on her, as she drank it, Dany felt mellow and warm.

Now, just the two of them, she could allow herself to accept that it was him that made her feel that way. They'd spent hours talking about their lives, all the things they hadn't wanted to disclose with cameras always around, and Dany knew. She just knew.

She was 100% in love with him.

And by the way he kept glancing at her, fondness and something decidedly hungry in his gray eyes, she thought he might feel that way, too.

But, frustratingly, he wasn't doing anything about it. They were sitting, hip to hip, on his sofa, watching the fire blaze away, and if she closed her eyes, she could pretend they were back on that island, not a care in the world. In that head space, she could find a little bravery, so she very carefully slid her hand onto his thigh, midway up, to rest atop his thin pajama bottoms.

She heard him suck in a breath, but she kept her eyes closed, hips shifting a little as the simmering desire she'd felt for him all day, since she'd lain eyes on him again, flared to life. "Jon, I was wondering if I might ask a favor."

"Sure," he said, although he could hear the question in his voice. She risked a peek, seeing him sitting with his jaw tense, his eyes glued to her hand. She flexed her fingers, and his gaze shot to hers.

"Can you be the big spoon tonight?"

He closed his eyes, just for a second, letting out a slow breath before his lashes fluttered open. "Are you drunk?"

Her face screwed up. "No," she laughed, and he brought his hand up to brush against her jaw. "Are you?"

He chuckled. "No." He looked away, to the loft above. "But suddenly I'm very tired."

She feigned a yawn herself, though she couldn't contain her grin, anticipation swirling through her. He stood, extending his hand, and she took it willingly, letting him lead her up the stairs, to the loft that he slept in, until they stood before the queen-sized bed, and he gave her the shyest look she'd ever seen. "Ladies first," he said, waving his hand towards the head of the bed and the overstuffed pillows at the top.

Dany crawled up, letting her head burrow into the feather pillow as she relaxed against the thick comforter. Gods, it smelled like him, it was like she was surrounded by him, and if he wasn't against her soon, she would explode. She felt like she'd been waiting forever, wondered if it would feel like it had six months ago, a slight fear surfacing that perhaps it HAD just been the island, and the experience, and she'd feel nothing at all when he climbed up behind her.

She felt the bed dip behind her, felt his weight settle, and then there he was, his warm body rubbing against her back, his strong arm banding around her waist and pulling her flush against him. Her worry that things would be different was quickly cast aside as she all but melted against him, her hips twisted as she pushed her ass a bit more firmly against his groin. He had nowhere to hide now, she thought wickedly, and there were no cameras in sight to stop her from doing what she'd yearned to do for what felt like forever.

His arm crept under her neck, just as it had before, and they exhaled together, in the same breath, as she felt herself slowly relax. Well, most of her relaxed. Some parts of her, she realized, a quick glance downward confirming that her nipples were already stiffening in response to contact with him, weren't relaxed at all.

Dany was infinitely relieved when she felt him harden behind her, though as always, he canted his hips back just a bit, as though he didn't want to offend her. With a laugh, she rolled over, clearly surprising him as he stared at her with wide eyes, his lips parted.

"Something's not quite right," she said, drawing out the moment to tease him a bit. "Don't you think?"

He glance downward, biting at his lip, eyes full of apology. "Sorry, I—"

Now it was she who covered his mouth with her hand, giving him a devilish smile before she pulled it away. "We're wearing too many clothes," she whispered wickedly, and sitting up, she didn't bother waiting for a response. She grabbed at the hem of her flimsy tank top, drawing it over her head quickly, her hair fluttering back down around her shoulders as she stared at him expectantly.

He didn't sit up, not right away, his eyes growing hooded and heavy, his gaze switching from her face to her bare chest rapidly. "A sight for sore eyes," he finally managed, blowing out a breath and rising as well. "Just like I remember," he murmured, and she squirmed, pleased and growing wetter by the second, the confirmation that he'd been privately ogling her as much as she had him making desire race up her spine.

Dany watched his fingers twitch, where his hands hung at his sides, and took his wrists, bringing his hands up to her chest and cupping his palms over her breasts. Leaning into his touch, she moaned, wanting more, and he seemed to need no further prodding. He was thumbing at her nipples in seconds, his hands testing the weight and shape of her tits with something that looked like reverence.

"Can I confess something?" He was starting to breathe heavily, chest heaving slightly, but his hot gaze was suddenly locked with hers. There was something so primal there, so carnal, that she couldn't respond, her body answering for her as she twisted further into his touch and nodded. "You have," he breathed out, "the most perfect tits I've ever seen. The first time I saw you I thought I was never gonna make it the whole three weeks without making a complete ass of myself."

She hummed in pleasure, then slid her hand up his t-shirt, until she reached the collar. She fisted the material in her hand, and pulled him close, until she could feel each breath on her lips. "I want you to kiss me, Jon."

The last syllable had just escaped when his mouth was on hers, his lips as soft and plump as they looked, and he kissed her fiercely, his passion and hunger feeding hers as their teeth clashed and nipped, tongues searching and seeking and sliding wetly as they tried, fruitlessly, to devour each other with their mouths.

When they finally broke away from each other, panting harshly, she gave him a lascivious smirk. "Can I confess something?" He nodded, seeming almost in a trance, and shed his clothes with a speed that made tickled, happy she wasn't alone in her eagerness. She laid back, sliding down her sleep shorts slowly, watching his eyes widen and a hiss escape when he realized she wasn't wearing anything beneath.

This was the Jon she'd craved the most, naked and exposed and vulnerable to her, understanding what she wanted before she even needed to speak it aloud. He hooked an arm under her, pulling her up roughly, a breathy laugh rushing out. Then, they were both moaning, at the feel of her breasts finally, blessedly, pressed against his strong chest. "It took all my willpower not to corner you on that island and fuck you. I was close, several times."

He snickered, his large palm roaming down her back to cup her ass and squeeze firmly. "Good thing you didn't," he murmured, head dropping to lick at her throat. He mouthed at her earlobe, and she clutched at him, freeing his bound hair and holding on, the feel of his mouth on her, anywhere, making her feel as though she were molten and boneless. "My family would never have let me hear the end of that, because I certainly wouldn't have said no."

His cock was straining, now, pressing firmly into the soft skin of her abdomen, and she reached between their bodies to wrap her fingers around his hot, insistent length. Loosely, she gave him a testing stroke, her cunt clenching at the sight of his eyes rolling back, at the sound of his low, tortured groan. "Fuck," he muttered, as she rolled her thumb across the rounded head, smearing the bead of moisture there, looking near feral when he finally raised his head back to look at her. "Wicked woman," he whispered thickly, then he claimed her lips again, tongue tangling with hers insistently, before suckling at her lips, ravaging her with his mouth until she pulled away to take a gasping breath.

She thought there'd be time, later, to make a leisurely exploration of him, to touch all the parts she'd only wished to, but now, she was starved, her thighs already slick with desire, ready for him to be inside her, to ease the burning ache between her legs. She shoved at his shoulders, until his back smacked against the carved wooden headboard, and straddled him, her palm still cradling his throbbing cock as she straddled him, their eyes moving as one to her hand as she gave him a slow, firm stroke.

"Dany," he growled warningly, and she smiled again, tossing him a playful wink as she ceased her motions. Perhaps he thought she was giving him a respite, because he showed a flash of relief, that lasted precisely the time it took her to rub the tip of his cock against her clit, then down, gathering the moisture that had gathered.

His strangled groan was music to her ears, and she rose on her knees, guiding him to her entrance, sinking down on him so slowly that she thought she might truly go mad. He stretched her deliciously, slight pinches of pain as her walls tried to accommodate him, a smooth roll of her hips finishing the job as he was finally seated inside her fully.

Jon's hands were immediately back on her breasts, kneading more firmly, his fingers teasing and plucking at her nipples as she began to ride him, each downstroke punctuated her high-pitched, keening moan and his lower, guttural growl. She pushed her chest into his hands, begging for more, bracing her own hands on his shoulders so she could keep her balance.

Gods, the feel of him inside her, thrusting up to meet her each time she rocked her hips against his was heaven, the sliding push of his thick cock stroking against her walls so perfect her eyes slammed shut, moisture gathering in the corners as he started cursing at the sensation.

"Fuck, Dany…," he grunted, the hand not toying with her clit grabbing at her hip, guiding her to ride him more roughly, as he bucked underneath her. "You feel so fucking good, baby."

She grasped the back of his neck, pulling his mouth down to one nipple, moaning encouragingly when he suckled on the stiff, rosy tip, his hand tightening further as her movements grew more frenzied and forceful.

Gods, she was so close, she could see stars beginning to form beneath her lids, and in two more sure thrusts, she was there, her cunt spasming hard and gripping and rippling around his cock in waves as she continued to ride him, her motions now jerky and haphazard as she plunged over the edge and into release. No one had ever felt so good inside her, she thought, as she slowed the roll of her hips into more of a grind, feeling limp and sated, willing herself to gather her scattered wits and catch her breath.

There was no need for that, though, because as soon as her walls gave one last, grasping pull at his cock he was rolling them, hiking her left leg over his elbow at the knee and bending her other to the side, so that she was spread wide for him. He began to fuck her, soundly, in long, hard strokes, grunting with the effort, sweat dampening their skin as she began to come alive again.

"Mmmm, Jon," she gasped, after one particularly deep thrust that she thought she could feel down to the tips of her toes, "just like that!"

He worked up a steady rhythm of his own, whispering filthy compliments that she echoed, each teasing word making him fuck her harder, faster, and to her great surprise, she could feel it building again. She almost couldn't believe it; she'd never come more than once from fucking, and never from a man's dick alone, but he was raising her knee higher, searching for something, it seemed, and when she let out an unearthly moan, his cock stroking in just the right spot, he clearly thought he'd found it.

The angle was perfect, and he was perfect, and she felt her stomach tense up, muscles clenching and tightening as the spring that was spinning and tightening between her thighs grew closer to giving way. "Dany," he groaned, his eyes boring into hers, so piercing she couldn't look away, even if she wanted to. "You're so close, aren't you?" She nodded, her teeth furrowing so hard into her bottom lip she worried she might draw blood, her hands gripping tight to his back as he fucked her furiously. "Come for me, Dany, one more time, I know you can."

He never looked away, holding her eyes as his cock pounded away, and then it was all too much, and pleasure bloomed searing hot, starting at her cunt and spreading outwards, and she thought, maybe, her whole body was one fire.

Jon couldn't do anything but groan and growl, now, words escaping him as she milked his cock again, but now he finally let go as well, spilling in hot, thick pulses inside her, flooding her with his release as his hips rocked and stuttered. He slowed, incrementally, bracing himself above her on his elbows after he released her legs, dropping a sweet kiss to the tip of her nose and waiting until her eyes opened to speak.

"I've been wantin' to do that for six bloody months." His laugh puffed against her lips, and she tightened her thighs against his hips, keeping him close and leaning up to claim his mouth in a tender kiss of her own.

Finally, his arms beginning to tremble, he rolled off her, dropping back onto the bed beside her, his hand finding hers in the space between them. "Holy shit," he breathed, and squeezed her hand tight. "I still can't believe you're here. It's too good to be true."

Dany rolled onto her side, leaning on her elbow and smiling down at him in the dim lamplight. "I know the feeling," she whispered, and ran a hand across the firm muscles of his chest. "But I'm glad I am."

"Me, too," he answered seriously, turning on his side as well and running a hand down her side until it rested on her hip. He smiled charmingly, more handsome than he'd ever been, and twirled his finger in the air, motioning for her to turn as he pulled the bedcovers down.

Dany chuckled, beaming as she spun around, waiting until she felt his body move in to cradle hers, his forearm pinning her back to his chest, the bedcovers tucked tight around them, to speak.

"Good night, big spoon."

He kissed at the back of her neck, his breath warming her nape, bringing with it a peace that she thought she could get used to.

"'Night, little spoon." She spread her fingers on the warm skin of his arm, nearly purring at how good it felt, in his little refuge away from the world, where it could be just the two of them, at least for a spell. "Hey, Dany?"

"Hmmm?"

His arm pulled her a bit closer, and though his question sounded simple enough, she knew what he was really asking, as soon as he said it. "How long can you stay?"

She stretched, digging her toes into his calf and snuggling deeper into his embrace. "As long as you want."

For a long, terrible moment, he didn't say anything, and she had a fleeting moment of panic, that perhaps she'd really fucking misread things. But then, he dropped his lips to the smooth skin of her shoulder, and she could feel his broad smile.

"Good," he answered quietly, settling down again. "So, forever, then."

She smiled into the dark, and laid her hand on top of his, entwining their fingers together as she felt herself begin to drift off to sleep. "Sure," she murmured, "especially if you're going to be naked."