Quick Note: So I edited Margaery's age to be the same as Sansa's. I believe in the books she's a bit older? Anyway, on to summary. In which Sansa dislikes Arya's hair, Ned Stark doesn't think it's obvious that their going 'just as friends' and Hot Pie thinks he'd make a better date than Gendry. All rights go to GRRM, because, obviously, I didn't write a song of ice and fire.
"This is impossible!" Sansa said with a frustrated huff. "This isn't hair, it's straw!"
"Thanks a lot," Arya snapped, looking up in the mirror to see Sansa's face screwed in annoyance as she attempted to pin and curl Arya's hair, hopelessly determined to find a style for the dance, which was only weeks away. The task, however, was proving arduous.
Arya didn't see what was so wrong with her hair, she liked it. At least it wasn't hacked as short as it had been when she had met Gendry. It was in a bob still, aline, high in the back and then cutting down the line of her jaw, sharply curled into her face, the front ends hanging just below her chin. And it wasn't straw! It was straight!
But it wasn't Sansa's long, naturally wavy hair that spilled over her shoulders like a beautiful, auburn waterfall. Sansa could have anyone, anyone! She was beautiful. And... She went with Joffrey. It would be laughable if he wasn't so horrible.
At first, Arya had thought it was some sort of thing her dad and Robert Baratheon had cooked up; why not have their two kids hook up? Then the business would really be all in the family. But the thing was, Sansa was actually crazy about Joffrey. In the beginning, it was easy to make fun of her. Arya and Jon had had the best of times torturing the two of them, putting water balloons in Joffrey's pants and laughing loudly every time he tried to say something flirtatious. But then, Jon grew up, and didn't find it funny anymore.
"You're being selfish," he had told Arya when she dumped the bowl of punch on Joffrey's head at her sixteenth birthday party.
"Me? Selfish? Did you hear what he said to me?" Arya had cried, tears of betrayal pricking her eyes.
"Joffrey's a little prick, but that's no reason to ruin a perfectly nice party," Jon had said, sounding annoyingly like their father, minus the prick part. "Can't you see how much it hurts Sansa when you do stuff like this? She used to ask for it, but now she's just trying to get along with you."
"I do it for Sansa!" Arya shot back. "She deserves better!"
"I know that," Jon said, "and trust me, one day Sansa will too."
Arya crossed her arms, huffing.
"Why do you have to be so bloody... So bloody..." She pouted in exasperation, searching for the right word.
"Right?" Jon offered, laughing at the look on her face when he did.
"It's just that he's so awful!" Arya protested, waving her hands as if to illustrate the gravity of Joffrey's horribleness. Jon laughed. "I don't think I could be nice to him if I tried."
"That would be far too much to ask," Jon said, frowning. "Joffrey's a piece of pig shit, he doesn't deserve to be treated kindly. Just... Try not to let your temper get the better of you."
"How?" She demanded, raising an eyebrow. Jon laughed.
"Remember the time Tyrion slapped him across the face?" he said, a dreamy look passing over his face.
"Yes," Arya said, sneering.
"Just... Let that play out in your head, over and over and over again. Every time he speaks, really," Jon said, smiling as Arya laughed. "See? Works like a charm."
Looking in the mirror now, Arya sighed, feeling her longing for her older brother hurt like a sore. She missed Jon so much. He used to live at home, and it wasn't that he never visited, because he did, quite a bit, more than Robb anyway. But... It just wasn't the same as seeing him every day, and doing things just because they could, like making terrible breakfasts together on the weekend though neither of them could cook, but eating it anyway because it was fun to boast that they had lived to tell the tale. It just wasn't the same.
"I give up," Sansa sighed. "I think I'll just load it up with mousse and curl it."
"Whatever," Arya said, shrugging. Really, she was only there for Sansa's benefit, and even that seemed like a stretch. But it didn't matter, she only had a small amount of time to kill before she went to fence with Gendry, who was always the sport when she needed to practice.
"What are you doing with your hair, Sansa?" Margaery Tyrell, pipped up from her place on the bed, as she did her nails. The Tyrell's were also wealthy and successful in the business world, like the Stark's, and as a result, Margaery and Sansa had become friends. Arya didn't completely mind Margaery, she was smart when she wanted to be, and funny too. At least she wasn't as bad as Joeffry, but that wasn't saying much.
"I think I'll put half of it up in braids," Sansa said, balling up her hair to show them, "and then curl the other half."
It was perfect, of course.
"Should I die my hair?" Marygaery asked, playing with a brown strand.
"No!" Sansa snapped at once. "Your hair is perfectly fine. Besides, it might look tacky."
Arya thought she'd rather shoot herself than talk about hair, and maybe she could slip out without either of the two older girls noticing when-
"Arya, is it true you're going with that mechanic?" Margaery asked, her round brown eyes alive with the gossip. Arya caught Sansa's eye in the mirror.
"Umm... Yes..." Arya said, trying not to sound as annoyed as she felt.
"Isn't he like, older though?" Margaery demanded, blowing on her nails.
"Yes," Arya said in a very flat voice.
"Is he, like, your boyfriend?" Margaery asked, wide-eyed, eyebrows raised.
"Hardly," Sansa said, snorting with laughter. "Gendry's just like another Stark brother to Arya."
"I think I've seen a picture of him," Margaery said, "and man, if he's that hot in person, I'd never see him as a brother."
Arya tried not to hide her smug smile, but she saw Sansa catch her. When Sansa raised her eyebrows in a silent question, Arya shrugged.
"I've got to go," she said, standing. "I've got fencing practice with Gendry."
"Oh really?" Margaery said in a suggestive voice. Sansa rolled her eyes as Arya got up, picking up her bag, and left the room, as Margaery called, "have fun!"
She'd probably be in that damn limo too. Maybe she wouldn't be so silly then. At least, Arya hoped so. Margaery, when applying herself, was very clever. She'd make a very excellent politician, and Arya suspected that she already had some influence in her family's business.
As she descended the stairs of Winterfell Mansion, Arya felt her stomach give an all mighty grumble. Checking her phone, she was pleased to see that she did have time to run to the kitchen to get a quick snack before meeting Gendry.
Walking to the kitchen, she dumped her bag on the floor and headed straight for the fridge, fingers crossed that the lemon tart Hot Pie had made a couple days before was still there for the pickings.
"So I hear you're attending the dance with that mechanic, Gendry wasn't it?"
Arya screamed in surprise, jumping backwards, which caused her to slam the door of the fridge in her face. Her father, who was casually reading the newspaper at the kitchen table, looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh.
"DAD!" She gasped. "I-You... I didn't see you there."
"I gathered that," he said, suppressing a smile. "You don't usually scream when you see me, at least, I hope not..."
"Haha," Arya said dryly, snatching the tart from out of the fridge. "Who told you I was going with Gendry? Mum?"
"Yes," Ned said, lazily turning a page of the paper. "You certainly wore her out a few days ago. I've never seen her look more battle-worn. If I had known better, I'd have said she took on a whole platoon single-handedly."
"That would have been less painful," Arya said through a mouthful of tart. "Dress shopping is the worst."
Ned laughed.
"I would have to agree with you on that one," he said through snorts of laughter. Arya smiled.
After his laughter died down, Ned took a sip of what appeared to be tea, and then gave Arya a searching look.
"So what is it with you and this boy, hmm?" He asked seriously.
"Oh, we're just friends," Arya said quickly.
"Just friends?" Ned looked dubious.
"I asked him to go with me so mum would stop nagging me about Edric Dane," she explained. "He's just doing me a favor."
"A favor?" Ned said, raising his eyebrows as though he didn't believe it. Arya gave a huff, checking her watch.
"Dad, we're mates," she said. "We're just going as friends, obviously."
"Oh yes, obviously," Ned said in mock seriousness, saluting her with his cup of tea. She rolled her eyes, picking up her bag.
"Where are you going?" He called after her.
"Fencing practice for my tournament!" She said, stopping and turning around.
"With who?"
"Gendry."
"Mhmmm," Ned said, giving her a coy smile as Arya gave an annoyed huff, rolling her eyes and stomping out of the kitchen, trying to ignore her father's laughter. He may be taking the mickey out of me now, she thought, but if Gendry and I were actually dating, I sincerely doubt he'd find it so amusing.
Ooooooooooo
"Shiiiiiit," Gendry swore under his breath softly.
"What?" Hot Pie's voice floated over to him from the other side of the dressing room door.
"Nothing," Gendry sighed, letting go of the price tag of the suit he was trying on and sighing. They'd been to a dozen shops already, and everything, everything was out of his price range.
"Well come out and show me then," Hot Pie said grumpily. It was obvious that he was enjoying suit shopping just as much as Gendry was.
"Fine."
Gendry opened the door and stepped out, feeling stupid, and weird to be in such nice cloths. Hot Pie raised his eyebrows and frowned, nodding in approval.
"Get it," he said. "Black suits you."
"Yeah?" Gendry asked, chancing a look at himself in the mirror. It almost made his eyes go blurry. He hardly looked like the same person. What he looked like was a proper grown-up, not some greasy young kid just scrapping by working on cars. Though he'd never admit it out loud, Gendry couldn't help but feel a little proud. He liked the way he looked, all big and important. He liked looking like someone.
"It's a bit expensive though," he grumbled, giving the price tag another contemptible look.
"Why don't you just ask Arya to pitch in? I'm sure she wouldn't mind," Hot Pie said, shrugging as he munched on a Parisian macaroon.
"I can't ask Arya to pay for my suit," Gendry sputtered. "What kind of stupid person are you? The guy doesn't ask the girl to pay, it's impolite."
"Since when do you care about manners?" Hot Pie pointed out through a mouthful of food.
"You're disgusting," Gendry informed him, still looking at himself in the mirror, trying to ignore the price tag that seemed to keep dangling itself in front of his face, taunting him.
"I don't know why Arya asked you anyway," Hot Pie said, ignoring him. "I'd be able to pay for my suit, and help with the limo as well."
"She asked me because I'm better looking," Gendry said bluntly.
"Yeah, but you're old," Hot Pie said, frowning. "Don't you hate the idea of hanging out with a bunch of half-drunk teenagers?"
"I already do," Gendry pointed out, shaking the arms of the suit jacket, which was a slightly lighter shade of black than the shirt underneath it.
"But... Won't it be awkward? With your Dad's family and all that?" Hot Pie pressed, finishing his macaroon.
"Yeah, I suppose," Gendry shrugged, "but I'm not going to the pre-party or any of that. I doubt I'll even see my Dad."
"Yeah but what about Joffrey?"
"He's about five feet shorter than I am," Gendry said, "if he annoys me, I'm pretty sure I can deal with him."
Hot Pie nodded, as though he thought this seemed fair.
"I like this one the best," he said. "You should get it."
"Yeah, speaking of which, I gotta run or I'll be late. I promised Arya I'd help her practice for her tournament,"Gendry said, checking his watch.
"Why is it always you that she asks to do things with?" Hot Pie grumbled. "You guys get to do all the fun and all I do is bake."
"Exactly," Gendry said, hurrying into the dressing room to change out of the suit and into his normal cloths before he hurriedly payed for it and left an annoyed looking Hot Pie at the mall's cafeteria.
He had to speed to get there on time, and even then he was late. Arya hated when he was late, and he really wasn't in the mood to get a lecture, or even a glare. Not when his wallet had lost a considerable amount of weight for her.
However, when he got inside, he found her not even dressed, sitting on the floor, staring at herself in the mirror, legs crossed.
"What are you doing?" He asked.
"Just trying to picture how absolutely hideous I'll look when Sansa's finished with me," she said, not even acknowledging his presence.
"You'll be fine," he scoffed. "It's one evening."
"You're grumpy," she said, raising her eyebrows and clamoring to her feet, brushing herself off.
"Sorry," Gendry sighed, setting his bag down. "I got my suit today and nearly paid a kings ransom for it."
"I could have helped you out," Arya said, frowning. Gendry shook his head.
"I don't think so," he said.
"Why not?" She demanded. "I've helped you out loads of times."
"No, you haven't," he snapped. "Not with money. I have a job, I can pay for myself."
"Yes, I know," Arya huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, "but I feel guilty, putting you out. As if I didn't feel bad enough for making you go with me already..."
"Don't feel bad," Gendry cut across her at once, "I want to go."
"You do?" She laughed, not believing him at all.
"Of course," he said, frowning.
"Why?"
"Because I'll be with you."
He hadn't meant it to sound the way it did, all mushy and whatnot. Instantly, he felt his cheeks heat up in a brilliant blush at the look on her face, which could only be confused and uncomfortable shock. He had meant it to sound like it was just another time like this, just another time where they could hang out and have fun and not like a date sort of thing when she had made it very clear that they were just friends.
"Oh."
He cursed himself internally. STUPID! What was she supposed to do with that? And now, an awkward silence had settled in.
"Do you want to get started then?" He asked, clearing his throat.
"Oh. Right, yeah," Arya said, blinking rapidly. "Fencing."
They both suited up very quickly, and for the next hour or so, there was no mention of what Gendry had said. No mention of anything, really. They didn't talk much, not at all in fact, and as the minutes ticked by, Gendry was growing more and more afraid that he had freaked her out. His suspicions seemed to be confirmed when she let out an exasperated groan and stuck him again.
"Could you at least try? It's not practice if you won't even try to block me," she snapped, sounding irritated.
"I am trying," Gendry said, just as she stuck him again.
"I give up," Arya sighed, taking off her mask and sighing. "You're hopeless."
Gendry did the same, trying not to feel so put out. He hated to have Arya disappointed in him, and once more, he was humiliated for his earlier comment.
"Ugh this stupid dance!" Arya sighed, plopping to the floor in a huff. "It's ridiculous!"
"How so?" Gendry asked gamely, sitting next to her.
"It's just... Never mind," Arya said, swishing her foil back and forth, going through her motions subconsciously, slicing the air with a practiced ease.
"No, what?" Gendry pressed, frowning.
"It would have been easier, if I didn't have to go," she said softly, looking into her lap.
"Easier?" Gendry asked, feeling even guiltier about his earlier comment, which he was sure was the cause of her drop in mood.
"I feel really bad, putting you out. I know how hard it is for you to spend your hard earned-"
"Arya," Gendry cut across her, "if that's really all you're worrying about, it's fine."
"That's not all I'm worrying about," she sighed. "I don't want to deal with Sansa calling my hair straw, or Joffrey being horrible, or what the other girls at school say."
"What do the other girls at school say?" Gendry demanded, brow furrowed.
"They... Umm," she bit her lip, and Gendry realized that he had never seen her look so vulnerable. "They call me a lesbian."
"WHAT?" Gendry shouted, startling her. "Not that that would be bad if it was true, but it's not! That's ridiculous!"
"I know that," she snapped. "Girls are idiots. Still, it's really annoying having people ask me if you're my beard or whatever."
"Beard?" Gendry asked.
"You know, like you're only going with me to stop the rumors about me," she said. Gendry nodded in understanding.
"Tell you what," he said after a long period of thought, "what do you say to me pretending to be your boyfriend?"
She looked up, surprised, and then a wicked smile spread across her face.
"Really?" She asked.
"Oh yeah," he said. "I'll go all out. Do whatever you want me to. Then we'll see what those little wanks have to say about you."
He couldn't help but feel immensely proud of himself as she grinned at him, looking like Christmas had come early.
"Do, whatever I want you to?" She said, wriggling her eyebrows.
"Am I going to regret this?"
"Absolutely," she said without missing a beat. "I changed my mind. This is going to be awesome.