A.N: Another two-part chapter for Tyrion's POV, so shorter than normal. No pun intended, sorry Tyrion.

Tyrion Lannister wasn't much for sleeping. Never had been. He thought the night hours generally were better spent reading, drinking, or entertaining whores. And he'd made prior plans for this particular night; plans that involved leaving his Lady wife Sansa peacefully abed in their apartment on top of the Kitchen Keep while he snuck out to visit his whore, Shae. It was all previously arranged with Varys, and he'd been looking forward to it immensely all day. He'd stolen out along the hall and got as far as the door to the kitchens before his carefully made plans went awry.

I made no plans at all to be accosted by my agitated big brother and obliged to agree to some hare-brained scheme of his, for reasons that barely make any sense, so how is it that that's exactly what I find myself doing?

'I'm not quite grasping this, could you just repeat the whole thing over again? Starting with the part where you thought bringing the dirty vagabond you became completely cuntstruck by back to KingsLanding was a brilliant idea.'

'I know this must be hilarious for you, after all these years...'

'I mean, I'm impressed,' Tyrion shook his head in wry admiration. He was perched on a bench just inside the double doors of the darkened kitchens, where Jaime had dragged him. It was well away from the sleeping quarters but they kept their voices hushed just in case. 'I knew you were hot-headed, but even I didn't think you had it in you to besmirch the honour of House Lannister so thoroughly for the sake of a... what is she again? A village whore?'

'No, she's -'

'A Hilltribe's whore?'

'She's a... Tyrion, please. You're the only one I can trust with this. It's important. Or I wouldn't ask.'

'Yes, it must be terribly important. I can't imagine you risking Cersei cutting your cock off elsewise.'

'Gods, you really are the most hypocritical arse-'

'No, no, don't get me wrong. Jaime, I'm not judging,' Tyrion held out his hand in a pacifying gesture. 'I understand. But as much as I adore it when our family name is dishonoured by anyone other than myself, I still don't see why your whore takes priority over mine.'

Jaime ground his teeth together. 'I love you dearly little brother, but if you keep calling her that I'm going to have to hurt you in a way that will ensure you won't be of any use to any whore in the near future.'

'You're very touchy on this subject, aren't you? You know when I say 'whore' it's with the utmost respect and admiration.'

'She's a delivery person,' Jaime gritted out. 'Not a whore.'

'Well I trust she's more comely than the local delivery person here in the Keep. And less beardy.'

'Seven hells if you could take anything seriously for once in your life,' Jaime ran a hand through his close-cropped hair and sighed in frustration. Tyrion almost felt sorry for him, but fought it back. I have my own problems to deal with. I don't need Jaime's.

'I'd love to help out. Truly. Obviously, you fucking random delivery persons and lying to our sister and father about it is something I wholeheartedly support in every sense. However, I'm a married man. With responsibilities. My own wife is sleeping in our bedchamber right now...'

'And luckily, you've already snuck out on your way to see Shae. Good, your wife won't notice you missing.' Jaime gave an unexpected grin. Tyrion rolled his eyes. He felt as if he were being cornered. He thinks I'm a pushover, that I'll do anything to help him. Because our whole lives, that's exactly what I have done. Tyrion glared at his brother with a lifetime's resentment.

'I don't know why you get to ride off into the night to confront drunken strangers in scummy Inns while I have to stay behind to watch Cersei... I mean why do I get the dangerous job?'

'Pfft. She's not dangerous if she doesn't see you.'

'She clearly saw your face though, didn't she?' Tyrion winced. 'It looks red even from here.'

Jaime touched a hand lightly to his jaw. 'She misliked my line of questioning. I always underestimate Cersei's penchant for violence. You'd think after all these years I'd know her better.'

Sympathy surged again in Tyrion; he almost relented, but again he stifled it in time. Damn Jaime, he always does this to me. Tyrion cast his mind about desperately, searching for another excuse.

'Why do you presume that when you find this Maester he'll be any more forthcoming as to this... delivery person's whereabouts? I'm sure the old man's well in Cersei's pockets.'

'Because, unlike with our sweet sister, I can punch the fuck out of him until he tells me. That puts me somewhat at an advantage.'

'If you ever feel squeamish about punching our dear sister, let me know. I'd be only to happy to help out.'

'Just help me out tonight, little brother. With this one thing. Please.'

Tyrion squirmed on his seat, trying not to weaken. 'You do realise Joffrey is getting married tomorrow, I mean you are aware of that fact? We are all of us Lannisters expected to be attending the Queen's breakfast in the ballroom in the morning?'

'I'll be back before dawn.'

'Really? So, you know which Inn this Maester's staying at, perchance?'

'Not one on Eel Alley,' Jaime frowned, tapping a finger restlessly on the edge of the bench. 'Asides from that, it's anyone's guess.'

'Oh good, that only leaves a few hundred Inns to search, then. You're right, it should take you no time at all, especially considering how not-at-all crowded every Inn in the Capital is on the eve of the King's wedding, and how not-at-all rowdy or uncooperative the patrons of them will be. Excellent. I'll reserve a spot for you at the breakfast table, shall I, save you a couple of honeycakes, and when our Lord father demands to know where his eldest son is for such an important event, I'll simply say you're out picking up some deliveries.'

'Fuck, Tyrion,' Jaime dropped his head into his hands. 'I thought you of all people would understand. I don't need this shit from you.'

'Oh, I am sorry. My mistake. I was obviously the one came searching you out in the middle of the night, dragging you away from your prior appointments, to beg favours. Do accept my sincerest apologies for disturbing you,' Tyrion hopped down off the bench as if to leave, but Jaime grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pulled him back.

'I forgot what a terribly irritating little man you are, sometimes, I swear. Look, all you have to do is -'

'Keep an eye on our dear sister yes, yes, you said.'

'It's not asking much.'

'No, it's not like she's going to be at all suspicious to see me skulking about, in any way, whatsoever.'

'Skulking is what you do best.' Jaime smiled, in that charming way he had. Tyrion was well aware that Jaime had spent his whole life winning people over with that irresistible smile, but even with that awareness he still found himself susceptible to it. Gods help me, I can't say no to him. It was like swimming against a strong tide, and Tyrion had never been any good at swimming.

'I was rather hoping to spend the night with my concubine, not our bitch-sister,' was the best he could mutter, but his older brother had already sensed the inevitable victory, and was preparing to go.

'Such is life,' Jaime quipped, with an annoying philosophical shrug, as he stood up and adjusted his sword.

'Such is your life, dear brother. Why must I become involved in this... ' Tyrion pulled a face, even as he knew he'd lost the battle, '...ridiculous love triangle you have going on here.'

'Because, we're brothers,' said Jaime, flashing another heart-stopping smile. 'I appreciate this, little brother. I owe you one. Remember, wait until I've left. She won't do anything until she sees me leave.' Jaime wrapped his strong arms around Tyrion in a quick and surprising bear-hug, squeezing the air from his lungs, then was off down the hall before Tyrion could recover enough to protest further.

He listened to Jaime's boots echoing on the stairs. I can't believe I'm doing this, Tyrion thought, rueful. He reluctantly trudged down the hallway, shivering as a cold breeze wafted up the stairwell from the ground floor. From there only a brisk walk to the Holdfast where his sister's quarters were. So many troubles of my own, and I'm wasting my time trying to prevent my witless brother from bringing shame to our House because his cock made him think he fell in love? Tyrion pulled his cloak tight around himself. What is this cruel jape the gods play on me? Surely, surely by everything that makes sense in the world... it should be the other way around?