The Adventures of Super Jock and Awkward Girl

A/N ~ My boyfriend who I have recently introduced to ASOIAF has just read the bear pit scene – which I intend to incorporate into this, though much later – and has just texted me to say we now share an OTP. J/B fandom, we have gained a supporter.

Coming Up… Jaime meets a certain caravan child in soberity, soberity becomes a word, Jaime keeps a twin's secret, blackmail happens, Jaime's conscience hurts him, and it rains rather heavily on Jaime's high. Find out in The Adventures of Super Jock and Awkward Girl!

1. In (And Out Of) Sobrerity

The languid rays of sunny warmth soon shrunk away beneath clouds, which then proceeded to wash away the first decent weather in ages.

Jaime slammed the door in mildly damper spirits; he'd been held behind again to clear away beakers and lenses and crap for Mr. Tully's science class. Naturally, he'd been oh so nonchalantly chosen for the job because of a few choice snide comments he'd slipped in earlier in the lesson. Oh, no, it's not a detention, Mr Lannister. Well it might as fucking well have been. Before that, of course, science had actually been quite bearable, surprisingly enough. His truce with the she-hulk herself was holding up, and they'd actually got through the lesson in sort-of harmony.

Silence greeted him in the living room. "Hello?" Jaime yelled, kicking his bag away into the shelf in the porch and throwing himself down on the couch to unlace his boots. "Hello?"

"Dad's working late. Come in my room and I'll personally rip your throat out."

Cersei Lannister's voice drifted down from the hallway, from above, and Jaime wondered where on earth she'd gotten the notion anyone ever wanted to go in her room. It was the first sentence that he primarily picked up on, however. Tywin Lannister seemed to be forever working late these days. He heard snatches of voices, Tyrion's and one he faintly recognized, and the thunder of feet on the staircase. "Hello big brother!" Jaime watched as Tyrion came grinning into view with a girl on his arm.

"…Hi," Jaime greeted, frowning. Memories of the party. Peanut shells. "Tyrion. And… Tysha, is it?"

"Yeah, Tysha, hi," The girl confirmed, and gave Tyrion a look that made the two of them snigger. Jaime felt as though he were imposing on two people eternally linked with all these inside jokes that he didn't get. Then again, perhaps he was. It was quite annoying. Was this how people felt around him and the rest of the Westeros Dragons team? Huh. This was what other people felt like. How did they stand it? "It's really good to meet you in, like, sobrerity."

"In what?"

"Sobrerity, like, not drunk. Sober."

"That's not a word, Tysha."

"It is now," Tyrion smiled.

Oh dear lord.

"Well, Chataya's got the evening off, and Senelle – the new one – and Dorcas aren't scheduled to come around at all this week so I was going to get an Indian."

"Make it Chinese and we'll talk." Jaime replied, drifting over to sift through leaflets on the coffee table. One for the Sesh Wun Palace stood out and he tossed it absently toward his little brother and his caravan-park girlfriend. His default orders were circled in scarlet biro, Cersei's in green. Cersei. "Oi, Cersei!" Jaime yelled, kicking the door to the staircase landing open with his toe. "Cersei!"

"Yeah?"

"We're ordering Chinese food!"

"What a marvellous life you have!"

"Shut up, do you want some or not?"

"Yeah!"

"Okay!"

He let the door swing shut and smiled at Tyrion and an unfazed Tysha. Jaime was willing to bet she lived with about a thousand siblings or cousins or both. (Then again, Cersei Lannister alone was the equivalent of putting up with about a thousand siblings or cousins or both.) He continued flipping through the splay – until something caught his eye. A couple of inky words – the twins? Jaime slid it from the pile, dropping the rest. Kings Landing College. He felt a frown furrow his eyebrows. The enormous sprawl of redbrick buildings glossily photographed on the cover screamed prestigious. "Tyrion?" Jaime called, not looking up from the leaflet, turning it in his hands to scan through the writing on the back.

"Yeah?" Tyrion mouthed, holding the phone to his chest, where he'd been making their order.

"Did you know Dad's arranging to try and get me and Cers into Kings Landing?"

"No," Tyrion mouthed, with a puzzled glance of so what, hastening to get back to rattling off their rather extensive Chinese delivery demands. Kings Landing. Kings Landing College. KLC. Well fuck. No wonder Tywin had blown a gasket about Jaime's struggling grades and wild party night – if he was already considering a correspondence with a uni like Kings Landing. The place was a fucking palace. Famous. Esteemed. Elite. The best grades, the best sports programmes – hell, they offered coursework in everything. Well, naturally. Of course Tywin would want to send him there when he finished the school. Only the best for the Lannisters. Oh, shit. Oh Gods.

Did he want to go there? Did he? Jaime considered. Yeah. Yeah, he did, he fucking did. Their football programme was astonishing. Well, by the Seven. Kings Landing College. If he wanted to get in, if he really did, it was time to grow up and knuckle down. Oh gods. He knew they offered sports scholarships, and he knew that if he put in the time he could snatch one up, easy. But his hand was broken. And it didn't seem like it'd ever be fixed, not in time for him to claim one.

Jaime flopped back down onto the sofa and frowned into space.

"Jaime? What's this about Kings Landing? Your eyes've gone the size of eggs." Tyrion threw himself down next to him and peered across the coffee table, taking up the leaflet and scanning it quickly. Jaime wondered perhaps if Tyrion was thinking about whether he'd be expected to go there when it came to his graduation. "Well. Father dearest does want the best for his golden twins."

"Tyrion!" Jaime snapped. "How the fuck does he expect me to do this without my hand, I'm useless!"

"Calm down, brother, it's going to be fine. You'll get in. He's rich and stubborn, he'll find a loophole. He wants you to do well." He was glad of his brother's words. They did little to soothe him, but he could cling to them at night when the doubts came on stronger. Tysha nodded awkwardly, leaning against the wall. Ugh. Maybe he was being stupid. Tywin would find a way, if anyone could, the man was pure steel. He'd find a way. And then Jaime would be playing for Kings Landing College, and Cersei would be chewing up and spitting out the male population of Kings Landing College, and life would be good. KLC was far, though – way further south. He'd loose all his teammates except a few. He knew Rhaegar would be attending, as befitted the second-wealthiest family in the area, and perhaps Rob Baratheon, maybe the Starks had said something about it once. But aside from that, it'd be a clean slate. He'd need to get property off-campus… Oh Seven – did he even know what he wanted his major to be?

Well. Kings Landing College then.

"Tysha, would you like to eat in the dining room, the kitchen, or in here?" Tyrion asked across Jaime, and Jaime thought it best to let him change the subject, to not get to caught up in the currents of Kings Landing, since it was only a pending idea after all.

"You have an actual proper dining room that you actually use?" Tysha seemed part teasing and part awed and part perplexed, one eyebrow cocked slightly. Oh good gods. The suppressed, unconditionally cruel voice in Jaime's head couldn't wait for their father to meet this girl.

"Yeah," Tyrion confirmed. "But we choose to eat at the kitchen table when we're alone, it's easier and quite frankly it makes us feel less like over-indulged spoilt little rich kids."

"Speak for yourself, I happen to enjoy being an over-indulged, spoilt little rich kid." Jaime made himself smile and grab for the television remotes.

"Okay, great… Why don't we just stay here for the time being… My spoilt little rich kid," Tysha giggled and thumped down next to Tyrion. Ugh. The very notion made him sick. He wanted Tyrion to be happy with a girl, yes, and to be honest it was way past time. And yet they didn't cease to remind him he was still all alone. (Did every girl in Westeros High want to have his children? Quite possibly. Did he want any of them to? Quite possibly not. It wasn't that he couldn't have any chick of his choosing. It was just that lately he was starting to hate them all.)

Whilst Jaime flipped through channels one of the Lannisters' many, many enormous flatscreens, Tyrion went to get the door when it shrilled, setting the plastic bag full of cartons on the coffee table. He offered to get plates, but that went ultimately ignored, and he ended up half balancing the fucking hot boxes on his lap, whilst fruitlessly attempting to find something half-decent in the hundreds and hundreds of channels. Nada.

He shouted up to Cersei, who materialized to snatch up her portions for about two seconds before disappearing back up into her room. Jaime told Tysha to think nothing of it and he and Tyrion spent quite a long, amusing conversation discussing the wonder that was their sister. They settled on Man Vs Food. Jaime wasn't sure why. He'd shovelled his sweet and sour pork into his mouth with the standard splintery chopsticks that came with the order for lack of motive to get up and venture all the way into the kitchen for a fork. Rice proved progressively harder, so he relented, and in his relenting decided it wouldn't be right if he kept the possibility of Kings Landing from his twin. (And he needed an excuse to flee from his brother and his girlfriends' canoodling.)

"Where's the KL leaflet? I'm going to go alert Cers." Jaime hovered in the doorway, holding out his hand for the leaflet, which Tyrion, muttering something about the dragon twin, shuffled through empty Chinese cartons stained with sauce for produce. Jaime stared down at it and tried to imagine going there as he trudged up the staircase onto the landing.

He took a deep breath before entering his twin sisters' room. She was very touchy about her privacy. But he was hardly going to knock, he was him. He didn't knock. Not knocking had paid off quite well over the years. (And it had failed him horrendously once or twice, but he didn't talk about that.)

The door swung shut behind him. Cersei's bedroom was empty. The remains of her Chinese were spilling from the bin in the corner.

He considered waiting for her return, but that was before the crumpled paper bag shoved haphazardly beside her bed caught his attention. It had torn clean down the middle, and from that gaping seam its contents were quite clearly lolling forth. Jaime felt himself frown. Oh gods. Oh shit. What? What the fuck?

The first thing that had entered his mind just replayed over and over and over, an endless movie reel, flashing in the forefront of Jaime's mind. What the fuck is Cersei doing with a bag full of liquor? Fazed, he knelt beside his sister's enormous bed and rifled through the bag's contents. Wine. Liquor. Vodka. Mostly wine. All sorts of it, he observed, picking up one half-empty bottle of red. And he was willing to bet that there was a stash of empty bottles somewhere. What, what, what. He stumbled as he zeroed immediately in on the drawers beneath her bed. She always stopped anyone going in there by saying she kept 'personal stuff' there. He yanked one open. A multitude of empty glass bottles, all shapes and sizes. Oh gods. Oh, Cersei.

He heard the toilet flush across the landing and his blood chilled to ice in his veins, heavy ice that froze him to the spot. Momentarily. Then he was furious. Fucking furious. He wasn't sure why. It was just his go-to response. The Kings Landing leaflet lay discarded and forgotten on her plush carpet.

The door swung open.

It took Cersei approximately three seconds to survey the situation and put two and two together. "Jaime you motherfucking rat bastard, you have no idea what you've just put yourself in for," Jaime barely heard her. "No idea! You had no right to burst into my room unannounced, like you're the king of the fucking world, you stupid golden fool, I'm going to kill you, I'm going to kill you!"

"Cersei, what is this? What're you doing?" Jaime frowned at her. When did the twin sister he loved so much start to hide so much from him? Did this happen to all teenagers? He barely knew her anymore.

"I am drinking, Jaime." Cersei sat herself down on her bed and the flint glare she fixed him with would have made any lesser man wither and die. "It's what you do when everything's a mess except you. And I swear to all the seven, if you ever tell anyone I'm going to kill you."

"Cersei, you know I can't let you do this. This is mental, fucked-up, and probably illegal. How are you getting all this anyway?"

Cersei smiled knowingly and Jaime wondered if she was drunk right now. When she snatched the bottle he still held from him and drank deeply, he didn't have to wonder any more. "I know people."

"Cersei."

"Taena knows a man who can get hold of fake IDs."

"Holy shit, Cersei, even for you this is fucked. What did you ever hope to achieve from this? How are you planning on sneaking all the bottles out without Dad finding out? Or Chataya or me or anyone?"

"Well, I've been doing it for months, you see, after a while it all just slots together."

"Months! You're messed up, Cersei, this stops now. I'm Jamie fucking Lannister, and I've been living on the edge since I took my first breath. You've just been crashing over it since then, haven't you, again and again? I'm not supposed to give a shit, but apparently this idiot who's taking over my brain does. He's going to tell Dad, whether you like it or not." What the fuck? What the fuck did he just say? He was Jaime Lannister! And here he was coming over all Eddard freaking Stark and threatening to tell daddy on his stupid bitch of a sister. Well, fuck me. Ned was going to have to relinquish the goody two shoes slot. (No, no, this would just be a minor necessary setback in a world of badassery.)

"You're not going to do that," His twin murmured, softly, smugly, staring into her wine bottle.

"Oh, am I not? I'm all for the wild youth and partying and shit but this is actually serious, Cersei. You know I don't do serious."

"You're not going to do that," Cersei repeated. Her green eyes flickered up to her twins. "Because if you do, I'm going to reduce your life to a living hell."

"Really? How?"

He watched with a pricking sliver of irritating anxiety that he slaughtered quickly as she relished in whichever scheme of silence she'd cooked up. She looked far to pleased for Jaime's liking. "Rhaegar Targaryen's Halloween party. My delicious plan to ruin that bitch Lyanna Stark for good had backfired and I was off stalking the shadows to try and gather myself up. You remember Rhaegar Targaryen's Halloween party, don't you? I saw a young couple pass me, and I thought to myself – who on earth would be away from the main events?"

This was straying into dangerous territory. "Cersei." Jaime's tone was growing warning. "What are you getting at?"

"I saw you making out with that thing Brienne Tarth in the pool."

"You quite obviously didn't, we weren't doing anything like that –"

"No, but I can always just say you were, when I let the school know."

"We're twins, Cersei you bitch!"

She cocked her head silently. Jaime sat there, fuming on the floor, lost to rage and regret and perplexion. After a while of managing not to fly at her and tear her precious golden hair out, Jaime sat himself on the bed next to her, and took the bottle from her hand. "We're twins, Cersei, you bitch." He repeated, quieter this time. "We were inseparable. When were tiny bastards and mum used to take us out to the beach every Saturday. You were so concerned for me when I'd toss myself off the cliffs, you said cliffdiving wasn't a thing. When did you become an alcoholic bitch? I mean, you were always a bitch, and so was I really but –"

"If I was anyone else I'd apologise, but unlike anyone else I have nothing to apologise for, nothing. What you saw in the drawer was everything I couldn't get out in all those months. I've been going slowly, but come to think of it, why should I? I'm right and the world's wrong, it's not a sin, it's not a bad thing."

"You're talking like a crazy person!"

"No, Jaime, you're mistaken. I'm the only sane person around here, and yet nothing ever works."

"Maybe that's because you're a bitch."

"Jaime, you're not going to tell anyone. I told Dad about you cliffdiving and he put a sharp end to it, and look where that got us. She's dead and you're strictly forbidden from cliffdiving to remember her. I'm dealing with my own business my own way. You're not going to tell anyone. You're not." She was Cersei, so she'd cut out the pleases but he knew they would be there, unspoken. He nodded slightly, rising. What were you meant to do when you discovered your sister was a teenage alcoholic? It could be worse, couldn't it? And yes, he was 'strictly forbidden' to go cliffdiving, but he'd still gone cliffdiving about a thousand times since he'd been strictly forbidden. Cersei was even worse for defying orders. But he knew how to safely toss himself into the sea. Cersei probably didn't know how to safely handle this addiction or whatever the fuck it was.

Classic Jaime was creeping back in, though, snapping at him. Oh, gods, when did he so unfortunately acquire a conscience? They were bollocks, why did anyone bother with one? But then…

"I'm not."

"Good. I do love you Jaime, I promise. The world's just fucked up. I knew you'd do the right thing. Good. Good." Cersei smiled, and he realized there were tears in her eyes. Of anger, sadness, of whatever else, of all of it, he didn't know, and didn't want to. She stood up, and lead him to her door, paused, stared at him. They'd always been the same height, but she stood so much shorter now. "Because it'd be such a shame to tarnish your golden reputation. Why, Brienne Tarth? That might do a whole lot more than tarnish it."

And she swept past him down the stairs.

A/N ~ I do so apologise for any OOC behaviour in this, I have indeed tried to alter them enough so that they all fit modern day society better :/ Also, I'm not too fond of this chapter BUT the following five chapters span over the length of the school camping trip which is basically (spoiler alert) just Jaime/Brienne fluffery and is so cute and fun to write so.