The Adventures of Super Jock and Awkward Girl

A/N ~ It's here. The chapter we've all been waiting for – don't say you haven't. Also, I stumbled across a model named Chloe Norgaard and she's so my pick for Super-Jock-and-Awkward-Girl Lyanna. Don't even ask.

Disclaimer ~ It's still not mine alright, bloody hell, on with the chapter, on with the chapter!

Coming Up… Jaime isn't quite at campfire standard yet, news is received that could either be the best thing ever to happen to him or the worst, a 'you will' is fulfilled, and something quite unexpected happens. Find out in The Adventures of Super Jock and Awkward Girl!

15.The Sad Half-Orphan Kissing Club

That night, with his hair clean and shining, free of pond whatever-the-fuck-was-in-it, Jaime Lannister decided that however much Ned Stark-esque bollocks he'd let slide these past few days, he would not, repeat not, condemn himself to singing lousy songs around a campfire, while some idiot with an acoustic guitar he couldn't really play fumbled away at the slightly too-tightened strings.

No. Not going to happen. No, no, and lastly no. He was Jaime Lannister.

So, whilst the groups from the other schools fell away, and they regrouped for dinner, Jaime snatched up the opportunity to see if anyone wanted to hang around the lake with him or something. Highgarden Manor's cafeteria rang with chatter as he took his place beside Rhaegar and piled spaghetti onto his plate. Brandon was slightly more alive than he'd been earlier, only slightly mind, and Jaime still caught the occasional look of pure loathing towards the nerdy little nothing who'd ruined his relationship and, by extension, his life. Perhaps it was Jaime's little-less-than-indifference toward the Starks that made it all the more fun to watch. Like waiting for a time bomb to explode. (From a safe distance.) (When it went off, he was sure it was going to be even higher impact than his sister and her multitude of little bombs.)

"So, how was Boy Scout Bollocks 101?" Jaime inquired, stabbing at a sausage and sliding it onto his plate. He didn't really care what two out of four Starks, Rhaegar T and Elia Martell did with their day (or rather how they enjoyed what they did, since they'd all done the same things, just in different orders.) but it was always nice to have an opening line before pleading your friends to abandon the first bonfire of the trip. (Well, not plead.) (He was Jaime Lannister, he did not plead.) (And they were only the dregs of his friends.) (He didn't like the Starks.) (Or Elia, particularly.) (And he looked up to Rhaegar on the pitch, but he was hardly a hilariously fun guy.) (He wished Gerold Hightower was here, or Arthur Dayne.) (They'd have joined him in sinking some of the canoes in the shack by the lake.) (There was a fun thought.)

"Barely bearable." Brandon muttered dejectedly into his meal.

"Ignore my brother, he's pissed because my good friend Catelyn doesn't want to bang him anymore, because he beat up a little kid. And because the little kid told everyone he banged Catelyn. In all fairness, Catelyn should be the pissed one here." Lyanna pointed out through mouthfuls of spaghetti bolognaise. Oh Lya. Jaime noted that she didn't once stop shovelling the stuff into her mouth. Charming. What Rhaegar saw in her he'd never know.

He saw Brandon's hand tighten on his fork. "If you weren't my little sister." (Jaime wanted to point out that Brandon's best friend was doing that little sister.) (But he wasn't so stupid, contrary to popular opinion.)

"Starks." Jaime nodded. Lyanna shrugged and grabbed for one of the bowls of sauce and started just eating it with a spoon, strands of blue hair escaping their hasty tie, and Jaime frowned. Why am I friends with these people? "Play nicely."

Meanwhile, Rhaegar had finished his meal and lead Lyanna away to go and sit by the lake for a bit, damn them and their romance, and Brandon soon after excused himself to sulk in his tent, or perhaps plot against Petyr Baelish. Either way, Jaime decided he only cared if it resulted in another classic fight that he could watch. Elia soon drifted off with some sort-of friend of hers, and Jaime was left alone. And here I was, thinking I was one of the popular people in Westeros fucking High. Then again, a tiny fraction of the other popular people in Westeros fucking High were here. Was that it then? Was he only popular amongst other people who were popular?

So he sighed and, as everyone began to disburse, and went trudging off to go and find Brienne. Gods know why I bother. She's the least companionable human being I've ever had the misfortune to meet. Just when they were getting comfortable with one another, she'd returned to her usual stupid quiet self when the daily mandatory activities were over. It seemed to Jaime that the laughter of the raft episode, and the rock climbing and canoeing that had followed seemed a world away. It'd only been a few hours.

He wandered through the camp when she didn't turn up. There was a little shop-like thing around the corner from their designated field, where most people hung around and bought snacks. (Those who were fool enough not to bring any themselves.) (Jaime had naturally stuffed his case with food before even considering packing other clothes.) The grass was damp, and the air surprisingly warm for this late in autumn. It had been for a while now. The colour and light of the day had began to ebb away in defeat and the sky, not yet dark, held a sort of tea-stained canvas colour.

"All I'm saying, is that people change. There's no reason, see, that Podrick here won't be a world-famous wrestler by the time he's thirty, except that –"

"That he has no muscle to speak of and stutters at the sight of, well, anything." Jaime cut Hyle Hunt off with a strained smile. "No offense intended, of course, Pod, I think I might just like you now." Podrick, Brienne, and Hyle. What are they now, The Loser Squad? Eh. He didn't mind Pod so much anymore, that was true. He was alright, once you got used to the rabbit eyes and the stutter. Dear gods, did I really just – And Brienne was annoying and stubborn and stupid and ugly and he didn't mind her so much anymore, either. Maybe it was just numbing with time. Gods.

He needed to get back to the team.

"Right." Brienne muttered, staring down at her overlarge feet. "What are you doing, Jaime?"

"Too cool to be seen with the quarterback around Stutters and this guy?" Jaime flashed a smile. Brienne turned red and Jaime felt he ought to go. He was sick of the sight of The Three Tossers. "No, you all… Enjoy the campfire. I'm going to the lake."

"Why?"

"Why, why do you ask so many questions, woman?" Jaime muttered, as he traipsed on through the grass and the ring of tents. The truth was, he wasn't really sure why. He just knew that he, Jaime The Fucking Quarterback Lannister, could not stand to be stifled in favour of camping for one more moment. He needed an interlude. It was at these times he'd usually stir something up and make a colossal prank of some sort with the others. But the others weren't here. Only Brandon Stark, Elia, and, (neither-of-them-notice-anything-but-each-other) Rhaegar-and-Lyanna.

Rhaegar and Lyanna. Oh, shit. Did they not say over dinner that they were going to the lake? Oh, for Seven's sake, gods, mum, whoever's up there, what have I ever done to you? Don't answer that.

He winced when the couple noticed him and smashed into obliteration his plans of turning back and playing iPhone games in his tent all evening. Behind him, the fire was just sparking to life, trailing tendrils of faintly waltzing smoke. Lyanna sat up in Rhaegar's arms and waved about. "Lannister!" Rhaegar murmured something to her and she hit him. "Lannister! Where you going?"

He was beginning to understand his drunken sister and her vendetta against the blue-haired Stark. "To the tents, like a normal person. The campfire's just started."

"Ooh, fire!" Lyanna yelled, springing to her feet and holding out her hand to drag Rhaegar to his feet. It took about a minute for the two of them to run over to him, Lyanna's blue hair, originally tied back carelessly now hanging half out of its abused rubber band. "There marshmallows? Give me a stick. Rhaegar, find me a stick."

"I don't think they'll have marshmallows." Jaime inwardly rolled his eyes.

"She doesn't want the stick to toast marshmallows, she wants to – set the stick on fire." Rhaegar clarified, looking happily exhausted with his mental girlfriend. What. Rhaegar glanced after Lya, now throwing herself about in a bush looking for a stick, and stood around until she jumped up again with a smear of earth on her cheek, and her hoodie considerably dirtier, and ran off, waving the twig. "Oh, alright then – Got to go, Jaime – have a nice evening," And with that Rhaegar ran after Lyanna, his silvery-blonde ponytail neater than his girlfriends' ever had a chance of being.

Well. That was that, then.

He trudged on towards the lake, somewhat bemused, but glad of the solitude. What? He'd never been glad of solitude before, ever. It's the hand, he told himself. But he could take the hand out of its sling now, for a little while, even if it still had to be bandaged up for the bones to set. He could manage with it, in all its awkwardness. Jaime sat himself down and found the grass thankfully dry. He could hear the muffled shouts and laughing chatter of his classmates, but the crickets were louder here. He still wasn't sure why he wanted to be alone. He'd never wanted to be alone before. Ugh. Why did he have to start thinking, all of a sudden? It didn't do anyone any good, least of all him.

It was maybe half an hour before the night settled in, and he felt a tentative tap on his shoulder. Jaime turned and smiled. "Couldn't stay away from my strong, silent hotness?"

"Shut up. I brought you this." Brienne clapped a flask of something into his hands and he stared at it. "Hot chocolate, Lannister. Everyone's drinking the whole of Highgarden's wares and I thought – I just thought maybe you'd – that you might like some?"

He was just on the verge of sending some default ridicule out of his mouth when he stopped himself short. "Thank you."

"Why aren't you at the fire? Everyone looks like their having fun."

"But not you?" He paused and shook his head. "Do I look like a bloody Ned Stark to you?"

She turned to leave, but after approximately three steps, Jaime did something either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. He was going to side with the latter. "…Stop."

"What?"

Jaime patted the grass beside him. "Sit."

"I – "

"Sit."

Brienne sat, glancing out across the lake. It was almost silvery in this light, hardly recognizable as the mud pit Jaime had cavorted about in this morning, with each ripple highlighted by the shadows. What are you doing, Lannister? He ignored himself. What was he doing? He wasn't sure. But he did know this was one of the few times he'd ever been alone with his real, unrestrained thoughts since he was born. "So what's the deal with you and that Hyle Hunt bastard?"

Brienne gave him a look of can you not. "There's no deal, Jaime. He was a bastard, once, he started a bet last year, but I'm not talking about that with you. He's a friend. I didn't ask for him to be, but he thinks he is one, so he is."

"Great." Jaime loathed Hyle Hunt and he didn't know why. "He's a dick, Brienne."

"He's not a dick."

"He is. And I'm willing to bet that with my fucking luck he'll end up going to Kings Landing College with me." He muttered darkly.

Brienne paused for a moment or two, before managing to speak up. "He is – going to KL, he – I didn't know you were going there."

"I'm not. Not if I don't crack down and do some hard work, and get my hand miraculously recovered so I can get that football scholarship I always expected. Dad wants me to, though, me and Cers, and I want us to."

"I - I'm going to Kings Landing College. Dad said it was meant to be really nice, and I mean, we're not so rich, but - "

"You're going to Kings Landing College?" Jaime felt something lift in his spirits, and he wasn't quite sure why. A familiar, ugly face at least.

"Yeah, and Hyle is too."

"Hyle."

Why do you care anyway, Jaime? He tried to ask himself, but his mind faltered and found no answer. "It's nice here," It's nice here, Lannister, is that the best you can do? Small talk had never been his area of expertise. He did loud, offensive, larger-than-life talk. Brienne didn't reply anyway. "I remember once, when we were little, really tiny, might even be my youngest memory, mum took me and Cersei to the beach, and around the rock pools, and the water was really still, you know? Like the lake now. Cersei tried to pick up a crab, thinking it was a rock. She screamed when it lashed out and then scuttled off, and then mum laughed, and we were all laughing." Dad hadn't been there. Even when mum was alive and he was sort of happier, he was never there. He lived for his career, his children were just ways to strengthen his marriage and keep the family going.

"She sounds like a very nice woman." Brienne managed awkwardly. Why am I telling all this to this absurd ugly idiot?

"Yeah, maybe. I don't even know anymore. I don't remember her, just that, at the beach. We've got a picture from that day, and I'm so tiny and wearing this coat that makes me look round. Mum looks just like Cersei in that picture. But honestly, she could have been a bitch, and I don't know, because I don't remember. That's sort of shit, isn't it? I like to think she was great, but," He stopped himself before he began to sound like Stereotypical Angsty Teenager. He wasn't just ready to face the but, not yet. He would one day, he knew. I like to think she was great, but if she was, why would she have ended up with dad, and her oldest son's never been the most pleasant.

"I – she's in a good place now," Brienne seemed entirely unsure of how to proceed. "Mine was – I remember her, but not a lot. Faintly."

Jaime stared out across the tinfoil lake, framed by cardboard trees, and filled his lungs with memories. "What was she like?" Why do I care?

"Kind. But sad, I think. I was too young to really get it, but I – she always wanted a big family, I think. And when Galladon left, she just had me. She tried to have more, and I remember she was so excited when they said she was pregnant again, but Arianne was stillborn, and then again, she was so thrilled, but she wouldn't get her hopes up. And then she died, with the next baby. And she never got to sort things out with my brother."

"I didn't know you had a brother."

"Galladon? He left when I was eight. He was years older and – I don't really know. He always loved me, but he and our parents always had a really rocky relationship. One day, he just left. Doesn't speak to Dad. He writes sometimes. To me, at least. He's in New Zealand now."

"That's horrible."

"It's fine."

Brienne looked so absurdly uncomfortable being put on a one-to-one spot and being expected to talk, openly and to Jaime Lannister, that he had to take pity on her and attempt, even if it was to no avail, to lighten the mood. "Look at us, the poor sad half-orphans."

"Half-orphans aren't a thing, Jaime."

"Of course they are, they're us. Sad motherless folk. Or fatherless. Just not both. Wish I were fatherless sometimes, but - "

"Jaime."

"Fine."

He glanced back down at his hands, feeling absurdly, remarkably better for talking. Lighter. Like he'd released a breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding in, let alone so tightly. Far behind them, the fading campfire's glow pulsed faintly, like a dusky jewel. Was it just him, or did the air feel different in his throat and lungs, and pressing down on him? It was like his head was empty now – maybe this was what Cersei needed, to get over her issues, just talking. But days ago, in this situation, he would be panicking about whether his supposed friends at school would find out, and what they'd do, but now they were gone entirely from his head.

Jaime let his gaze flicker up. She was the same as he'd always remembered; absurdly tall, but it was clear to him now by her every movement that she was probably self-conscious about that; this was the Brienne Tarth he'd always known, muttered jokes about in the hallways, as he did everyone; prominent teeth, hundreds of freckles, a nose broken more than once in the football she always so excelled at. Her eyes were beautiful, though. Why had he never noticed that before?

He only just realized, entangled in his own thoughts, that she was saying something, in that same awkward, unsure way she always spoke. Frowning, Jaime held up a finger to silence her. "Brienne – I just – Let me just try something,"

And he leaned foreward, and he kissed her.

It wasn't a monumental kiss. It wasn't what the idiot books were made of. It wasn't violins and magic. But it made him feel something. And Jaime was almost certain that that had never happened before. And he'd kissed a lot of girls. It took her a while to respond, and start kissing back. But in that moment, Jaime was almost certain he'd been more than a complete and utter idiot the rest of his life, but the complete and utter idiot.

He wasn't confused, for that split second. And he was smiling, somehow, when he turned away. He could almost hear Tyrion's voice in his head. What is this? The sad, half-orphan kissing club?

Jaime was too caught up in everything to pray nobody had noticed, but Classic Quarterback Jaime was reeling.