ONE CLICK AWAY

Author's note:

I started the story with a double update because I kind of knew I would not be able to post on the first Thursday of this WIP for work reasons. I do hope you forgive me for my inconsistency and appreciate the fact that I've managed to produce something for you to read on a Sunday following my update schedule. I will return to Thurs - Sun updates with the following week.

I appreciate each and every one of you that have clicked on this little story and have left a view, a follow or just a lurk. I see you and I thank you.

I borrowed Brienne's reaction to drinks from Brooklyn99's Amy and I am not ashamed to do so because Amy is me and Amy + I are Brienne in this story. Leave a like or a little note in the reviews, if you like, if you don't, that's ok, too:-*

Night One - The Bearded Bard (2)

As the night progressed and the fancy little cocktails flowed, Brienne was more than happy they had not selected a typical work night to go out together. She wasn't one to drink on a regular basis, frankly, she rarely ever drank because she dreaded the feeling of being lightheaded and out of control.

Drinking - as she should find out during the first night of her probational period of not needing to create an online dating profile - came in different stages for Brienne Tarth.

First of all, Brienne became spacey. Very spacey. The hotel bar was buzzing with the noise of lounge music mixed with interactions, conversations, and laughter and working against the constant buzz had their voices strained within the first thirty minutes after downing their first round of cocktails. Usually, Brienne would follow their conversations religiously and Sansa's and Margaery's company made her feel so comfortable that she liked being the chatter and the chattee alike. When Brienne had her first drink, she stopped following full chunks of the conversation entirely. At first, Sansa and Margaery blamed it on the constant background noise generated by a lot of people around them, but Brienne had inched closer and closer and remained spacey, her expression blank from time to time and when addressed just 'huh?' ing' them. The first cocktail apparently made Brienne zoom in and out of reality.

Interesting.

The two of them exchanged an amused grin. Brienne's behavior did trigger their curiosity and their adventuresomeness alike. Ordering the next round of drinks should shed a light on what to expect next.

Second of all, Brienne became loud. As in, really loud!

"You wanna dance?" Brienne shrieked at Sansa when a particularly interesting beat came on and the speakers were blasting the music throughout the entire bar, making conversations absolutely impossible.

"I wanna ... what now?" laughed Sansa, wearing an incredulous expression on her face.

"I said ... do you wanna dance?" Brienne stumbled on her words but grinned at her friend victoriously. There, she had said it, and she had repeated it, Gods be dammed she was going to have fun tonight of all nights at this very fancy bar of all places.

"How much have you had to drink, Bri?" Sansa asked, sipping on her Appletini.

"Just two", Brienne answered, a slight slur in her voice.

"JUST two?" Margaery grinned.

"Well," Brienne said, downing a shot she had grabbed off a plate Podrick had been walking around with, "make that three!"

"Brienne, slow down," said Margaery, unsure what to make of the entire situation, "you're not used to drinking and ..."

"And as I said, I wanna dance. So who's game?"

Apparently, three drinks made Brienne the center of attention on the bar's makeshift dancefloor. Needing to preserve this for all eternity (and to presumably mock her with it whenever the opportunity should arise) Margaery inconspicuously retrieved her cell phone.

"Was it really necessary to drag me to this bar, Tyrion?"

"You said you needed to leave the house more often, I am here to provide a wonderful opportunity to mix with Westeros' finest in this newly opened bar, yet I detect some form of complaint, dear brother," Tyrion grinned, sipping on a huge glass of red wine, an old Dornish, heavy and laden with hidden flavors no Dornishman would ever dare to disclose to a stranger.

"Besides, I am pretty certain you will find a variety of interesting people - men and women alike - in this very place at this very time. And variety, my dear brother, is what you desperately need after..."

"Don't say it," Jamie pressed through gritted teeth.

"I'm just saying..." Tyrion trailed off.

"No, you're certainly not saying anything on this particular topic anymore, Tyrion. We have discussed this. She's gone and she won't be an issue anymore."

"If you'd let me finish," Tyrion growled at his older brother, "you'd know that I was going to say that variety can be found in this bar, all you'd have to do is to look around ... I mean really look around. Tell me, Jamie, what do you see?"

"A bunch of miserable men and women alike, trying to appear cool when in fact they're waiting for someone to swipe right, that's what I see..." Jamie said, rubbing his forehead with his left hand. His right, still in a cast, remained where it was, at his right side, immobile and useless ... for now. The crease on Jamie's forehead only deepened further when he actually took the time to look around at the people swarming this bar like bees.

"The red-headed guy at the bar is checking out some girls," the older Lannister reported back after a few moments of observation, "and he seems to think he can make it happen, he thinks he is going to go home with someone tonight, in fact, he is absolutely convinced that he will. It's disgusting."

"Why is it disgusting that a man is confident?" Tyrion asks innocently, enjoying Jamie's perceptive glances around the dimly lit bar.

"Not per se..." Jaimie trailed off, "but he should put his money where his mouth is and from what I can see, he's all show, no substance whatsoever."

"Aren't we all showing off from time to time, though, Jamie?" Tyrion asked, slightly confused as to why his brother seemingly took such a personally connoted interest in the people he was observing. Undeniably Jamie's assessment appeared to be astute which confused Tyrion further. He didn't know his brother to be a good people reader, especially not after what happened with Cersei ...

"The waiter," Jamie continued, "appears to be shy and uncomfortable around people but he's a people pleaser at heart, more so, he knows how to please a lady but he doesn't wanna come off as a playboy so he waits for the women to make a move. He's patient and kind. And a genius."

Following Jamie's glance, Tyrion spotted a chubbier waiter three tables down who was just patiently mopping a table that had been soaked in a deep blue iced drink a rather drunk woman had spilled just seconds ago.

"He doesn't waste any time," Tyrion murmured, rather to himself but Jamie heard him over all the surrounding noises.

"He doesn't. He's attentive, too. See that brunette at the table?"

"The one with the rather impressive ..."

"Precisely that one."

"Yes?"

"She's gonna go home with him when his shift is over."

"Jamie?"

"What?"

"What is happening, how do you see these things? Here I was, thinking that I had intimate knowledge about the people in my vicinity but you put everything I thought I could do to shame. Shame, Jamie! Shame!" Tyrion commented, incredulous. It was true, however, he was quite proud of being able to read people, anticipating their next move and having a plan at hand, should they do or don't do as he foresaw. This ability did come in handy, working at their father's law firm but it seemed like Jamie's injury and his recovery process had made his older brother a worthy rival.

"You flatter me, Sir," Jamie grinned, a playful smile tugging the corners of his mouth slightly upwards.

"Don't you 'Sir' me, Jamie, I am not our father," Tyrion muttered, taking a sip from the old expensive Dornish wine they had ordered as they had started their night out.

"No, thank fuck, you're not," Jamie grinned and his gaze wandered around the bar. It fell on the erratic movements of a woman in a corner. Was it a woman? He wasn't sure and the dimly lit surroundings made it very difficult to see her ... him ... her? ... clearer so he squinted his eyes, trying to get a better look. Tyrion followed his gaze and involuntarily started laughing at the most ungraceful movements he had ever seen someone display on a (makeshift) dancefloor, including himself. The woman was towering above everyone else, even when wearing black flats to her office attire, she must at least be, what, six-one? Six-two even? Her light blonde hair was wavy and reached just past her chin, her strong shoulders looked like they could carry the entire Westeroosi continent on them and her legs went on for miles and miles, they were that long.

Jamie, too, had noticed the legs.

Despite the erratic movement and the fact that the blonde tall women was off beat for most of her dancing, he couldn't help but watch her legs move in the black dress pants she was wearing.

The women laughed. A burst of heartily, deep laughter that shook her to her core and made her two friends join in. Neither Jamie nor Tyrion had noticed that the blonde warrior-like women had company.

Nor had they realized that she had an admirer. The redheaded tall Northener had just attempted to get up when a busy looking waiter - the chubby one, Jamie realized - had brushed past him in a hurry and caught the giant off guard who slumped back onto his barstool, missing the opportunity to join the blonde on the makeshift dancefloor in the middle of the bar.

Jamie gestured the waiter to come closer and Podrick opened his little blue notebook to take their order. Jamie signaled him to come even loser and whispered some requests into the waiter's ear.

"Did you get that?"

"Yes, yes I did," Podrick said, grinning, "is there anything else I can do for you at this time?"

"Actually, yes, would you mind putting the tab of these three ladies on me?" Jamie jerked his head towards the blonde who had just reached her friend's table, her wobbly feet threatening to cease functioning as she clumsily sat down.

"Absolutely, Mr. Lannister," Podrick grinned, accepting Jamie's hastily retrieved credit card, "what do I say should they ask?"

"Just tell them they needn't worry and that I - who wishes to remain anonymous - hope that they're having a good time."

"Will do," Podrick grinned and retreated.

Tyrion followed his path and saw the waiter approach the redheaded giant at the bar, whispering into his ear. The Northerner got up, balled his hands into fists and looked around, his eyes piercing and fierce as he scanned the room. When he couldn't find who he was looking for, the redheaded giant huffed, paid his tab and slowly made his way out of the bar. Tyrion turned around and faced his older brother just to see a slight blush creep upon his cheeks. Jamie blushing?

"Jamie! What did you do?"

"I have no idea..."

So, what do you think did Jamie tell Podrick to pass onto Tormund? Did you guys guess it was Tormund?