The Adventures of Super Jock and Awkward Girl

A/N ~ I know my disclaimers have become a bit of a fan favourite with you lot, but frankly I don't even know what the flip this one is.

Disclaimer ~ You! Your SavingOphelia needs you! Sign up for my ranks, let us overthrow George the Great and Mighty! Under my reign I can promise you shall never need to spend an hour crying over Jaime and Brienne again! Fight with me! I am your mockingjay!

Coming Up… Prom is more enjoyable than everyone thought, half the people are dickheads, but what else is new, overuse of the word dick, again what else is new, Lyanna Stark is fabulous as you all know, and Kings Landing scholarships are not exactly what Jaime expected. Find out in The Adventures of Super Jock and Awkward Girl!

28.Prom Night

When the limo pulled up outside Westeros High, the prom night was already in full swing. Good good, very good – if there was one thing Jaime Lannister could do, it was fashionably late arrivals. (And if there was one thing Jaime Lannister never thought he would do, it was a fashionably late arrival with Brienne Tarth beside him.)

The ride from Brienne's house to the school was thankfully short, and though Jaime would have ideally liked to savour his time in possibly the best limousine yet, he also would have ideally liked to cut shorter the time spent in painfully awkward silence with Cersei, Kettleblack and Brienne. Frankly, Jaime wasn't sure why the glitter-dipped Barbie herself had even accepted this one's offer. Perhaps she'd made his waiting-too-long-for-someone-better mistake; he kept reaching for her hand and she kept slapping it away rather violently. Jaime had turned to Brienne for conversation when the happy couple decided to keep the silence going. "You know, Tarth," He inwardly smiled at that – how long had it been since he'd called her that and meant it, rather than just playing around like now, or trying to divert his odd calling to befriend her. "I think this is the first time I've ever seen you wearing makeup." He paused. "Or, you know, girls clothes."

Brienne turned to him, feigning a look of being a hundred percent done. "I think this is the fiftieth time I've seen you in – girls hair products." She faltered, trailing off a little but Jaime snorted anyway. "If it were up to me I'd not be here at all, I'd be at home reading Lord of the Rings and eating… Pot Noodles." Jaime laughed again.

"You're not allowed to eat Pot Noodles without me and Tyrion and Tysha, you know that. Like you're also not allowed to have Walking Dead marathons without all of us." Jaime told her. She protested quietly at the marathon ban. He paused, that hormonal meriod part of him that took everything too far wondering if his big fat epiphany on the phone meant that much to her. Great. "So why are you here then?"

"You'll laugh." Brienne said doubtfully.

"You shouldn't expect any less of me." He nodded modestly, but he was intrigued – he wanted to know what changed her mind. Silence. "Come on. I thought we agreed to let the past be the past, which means, I'm your friend."

"It means you're my… Nothing." Brienne muttered, shoving him. Jaime shoved back.

"Hey, pushy. The way this friend deal works is that you talk to me. And not abuse me."

"I think you've given your share of abuse in your day, Lannister." Brienne told him, like the old days of loathing one another in Crazy Frey-run libraries, but it was half-hearted, and she was sort of smiling. As much as she did, bloody miserable woman. Jaime rolled his eyes.

Anyway, full swing and fashionable tardiness. Jaime found, to his relief and fear and something he couldn't quite put his finger on, Rhaegar and Lyanna were hovering around outside the school, engaged in conversation with a couple who he only saw from the back but who he was pretty sure were Catelyn and Eddard. Several genius japes about settling on one Stark sprung to mind, but by the time the limo had stopped properly Ned and Cat had drifted into the building. The pulling up of the limousine attracted the attention of several milling formally-dressed Westeros High students, and cheered Cersei immensely. She adjusted her posture and the hem of her dress (there was actual material under all that golden sparkly stuff, shock horror.), running her hand through her hair and standing up (with as much dignity as the low roof of the vehicle provided) and insisted on descending the limo first. Thankfully for her, she was enveloped entirely by the Cersei Lannister Fan Club and all the lemmings it entailed before Kettleblack could scramble from the limo and find her and try to make her act like a date again.

The rain had stopped, which was of course why Cersei had not thrown any more hissy fits, and the cool night breeze carried on it the smell of saturated earth. It was not altogether unpleasant. Jaime turned to Brienne. "Say, Tarth – shall we casually go tie up our high school days and go to prom?"

"Alright then, J – Lannister."

So they did.

Jaime grabbed her wrist – that was what friends did – and dragged her from the limousine. In his opinion, people probably still hated him, but fuck all. He was done with them. He was heading off to a new college, where he would have new educators he could soon get to despise him, new students he could befriend and ridicule until he had their admiration and crowns again. He was young, he was amusing, he was ridiculously handsome. He'd get by. And right now, he looked fifty thousand times better than any of them, so ha fucking ha, last laugh went to him. Lannister pride was a big thing to him, and he would not let these stupid children get the better of him. Something about Jaime fucking Lannister.

People stared. Jaime stared harder, challenging them to go on and say something. Nobody did. Being him did have it's advantages. People whispered. Jaime smiled his I'm very rich and fit and I could have had you boiled if this was some stupid fantasy book. And finally, Jaime gathered all of his Lannister pride and found himself at his destination. "My assumptions, shockingly, have been wrong in the past." Jaime told them. "Still hate me?"

Lyanna shrugged. "Still a dickhead?"

Rhaegar smiled for a millisecond, down at the damp concrete at his feet, in a way that made Jaime think not so much. He was wearing, no surprise, an immeasurably-expensive-looking black suit and smoky tie. "Stark." Jaime muttered forcibly, throwing his eyes to his hand around Brienne's wrist.

"I guess not!" Lyanna shouted, actually sounding slightly too surprised for his sound of mind, the same time Rhaegar gave a flabbergasted really? Well, it was always good to know what great friends he had.

"No, he is actually." Brienne muttered, around the same time Lya started shrieking that she was always right. Jaime whacked her on the shoulder, but it was in a nice sort of way. "He's just a more tolerable dickhead."

Time for a change of subject, Jaime decided. Lyanna, surprise of all surprises, was dressed like a girl. (Honestly, Brienne, Lyanna. What was it today?) Then he noticed that beneath the hem of her floaty rose-blue dress, she was wearing muddy neon-green and white Nike soccer boots. Which sort of wrecked the whole thing, but maybe that was her intent. He pretended to do a double take. "Lyanna… You're… You're a girl!" He gasped, clutching his chest in mock terror. Lyanna kicked him in the shin, hard, with her muddy neon-green and white Nike soccer boots. Message received. Pain received. Bitch.

"Restrain your girlfriend." Jaime commanded Rhaegar, clutching his stinging leg. "Dick," He muttered at Lyanna under his breath, but again, it was meant nicely.

"We call each other dicks a lot." Lyanna noticed. "And like, everyone else."

"Are we going in, or not?" Rhaegar prompted softly, and for some bizarre reason everybody listened, and trooped into prom, into Westeros High School for the last time in their lives. Inside, balloons in the school colours flooded the corridors, and were tied around door handles. Jaime immediately drew back his foot and brought it down hard on one so that it popped. "People spent time out of their short lives to blow those balloons up." Rhaegar pointed out.

Jaime shrugged. "So I could spend time from my short life to burst them. Bet I can pop more than you can from here to the main hall." Lyanna opened her mouth but Jaime glared at her. "I meant Brienne, idiot." Lyanna proceeded to go on a raving, grinning babble about their supposed 'relationship' like a crazy woman.

"You're rich," Brienne said. "So I'm not going to feel bad about taking your money." Jaime gaped, astounded only half in mockery, like people always did when quiet people made decent threat-joke whatevers. He lurched into action, and the popping of balloons echoed through the corridor where he'd walked so many times, strutted in his football stuff, laughed with his friends, refused to panic over forgotten homework, glared at Ned Stark for no reason except he fucking couldn't not, made fun of Brienne. He stamped on the balloons like they were those memories that had deceived him at the time. Until, naturally, the fun police in the form of teachers had to magically materialize and tell them to quit it. As he shouldered open the double doors to his high school prom, Jaime heard Brienne saying quite calmly about how she popped more. (He lost count about halfway through.) (But maybe it wasn't really about the money.) (Maybe it was just about popping balloons.)

The music was actually decent, recent and ear-splittingly loud, and inside the main venue was more tastefully decorated than Balloonland out in the corridor; red cloth covered the floor, curtains and curtains of fake diamond-crystal things, along with actual translucent gauzy curtain things, draped the walls, the ceiling, curtaining off a sizeable buffet and the drinks table, the table where the student head of activities (and four different prom-graduation committees) Ashara Dayne (and her sidekick Elia Martell) were taking and controlling votes for prom king and queen. Jaime really ought to have been one of the nominees, but nominees were chosen by the student body and frankly the student body couldn't have hated him more, recently. Cersei was in the running for queen, which woop de fucking dee, he hoped she lost, to whoever else was nominated, he didn't really give a shit. Or maybe his sister deserved a shot at happiness. (No, winning would not make her happy, it would make her smug and intolerable.) (Like Cersei Lannister of all people needed an ego boost.)

Anyway, amongst the throng of swaying ex-students of Westeros High, his eyes inevitably found his ex-friends at Westeros High. Ashara's brother, Gerold, Robert. They ignored him. Some ignored everything that had happened, considering how Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand remained ever the same. Catelyn, who was gripping Ned Stark's arm wearing a maroon sort of dress that made everyone but Brienne look gaudy compared, and a look in her eyes that dared anyone to challenge the two of them, had some stern words for him but when Brienne hastily assured her that he was fine, she backed down and went back to normal.

The playlist was actually quite... Nice. A bit slow for his tastes, but nice all the same, and regardless of the idiots observing him like a zoo animal, Jaime felt as though it wouldn't be a proper prom if he didn't get up and start making a fool out of himself – no, he'd never look like a fool (again); the perks of being rich, hot and having a schoolful of judgy judgy folks who were despite all else terrified of you. So when Rhaegar asked if he was joining he and Lyanna for the next song, he grabbed Brienne's wrist and off he went.

"You two are going to get married one day," Lyanna told him, when the four of them were wedged amongst the crowd, voice rising to compete with the music. "And you're going to have three hot blonde children with freckles, one of whom will be named after me."

Jaime was about to instinctively allow a default defensive snap escape his throat, but he choked it back down. Let Lyanna have her time in the metaphorical sun. Despite being hated by almost everyone in the building, he was pretty sure this was one of the best nights of his life. "Yes, and it'll be the male one."

Brienne choked on the diet coke can in her hand. Jaime ever so helpfully clapped her on the back. Lyanna looked genuinely thrilled to pieces by either the prospect of lending her name to a non-existant little boy, or something else he must have said, he didn't know. Rhaegar laughed. "Just for that, we're having a little girl and calling her Jaime." He remarked. Jaime was about to remind him that Jaime, however it was spelt, could actually be used as a girls' name, whilst Lyanna was strictly feminine, but he was rudely cut off by the faintest sound of the Pokemon theme song, clashing with the blaring melodies the school prom was playing. Lyanna fished around in her sock and scrambled for her phone, and Jaime frowned as she covered the ear not pressed to the device, shouting over the music, confusion and euphoria on her face, before she shoved violently through the throng to find somewhere quieter.

"Since when is her ringtone the Pokemon theme?" Jaime retorted.

"It's the tone for when her dad calls her." Rhaegar explained.

Jaime opened his mouth, about to ridicule Stark further before Brienne spoke, sentence started before the realization that someone else had started first. Still, she had to follow through. "I think I know what that's about." She looked excited, almost, for once in her fucking life, eyes sparkling, a vivid blue made even clearer in the soft lighting.

"What?" Jaime and Rhaegar spoke at once, turning to frown at one another before turning back to Brienne. All at once, an enormous grin dominated Targaryen's face and he nodded at Brienne.

"Oh gods." Rhaegar's mouth fell open and looking as though he suddenly remembered something, the finest student captain of the Westeros High Dragons in a long time ran off, worming between clusters of kids to find his girlfriend. Jaime was beginning to feel annoyingly like he was the only one left out of a colossal revelation. A happy one, he'd thought, by everyone's reaction, but then Brienne turned to him and she looked a little less like a, ugh he didn't know, and more like… Ugh. Well, what the shit was it?

"Come on." Brienne muttered, weaving through crowds and trying not to shove people, which was easier said than done at her height, and Jaime followed, annoyed, until they reached the double doors, told the teacher guarding them that they needed some fresh air and found an abandoned hallway with few enough black and red Dragons balloons flooding the floor. Jaime reflected that, since the graduation was to be held outside on account of the lovely weather that had fleetingly abandoned them for tonight, this was probably his last time in this corridor.

"Care to explain why Pokemon made Lyanna Stark so happy?" Jaime tried.

Brienne's eyes found her feet for a moment before they found him. "Jaime, I don't… At the last match, with all the college scouts there, one of them came over to talk to me at the end. The one from Kings Landing, and he did ask about me, but I never was up for a sports scholarship there. Dad said he was going to send me anyway and my birthday presents could just be the supplies. I wasn't applicable for the sports scholarship because I was always going for the medieval literature one. But he did want to talk about Lyanna."

Oh.

Oh.

So that was it then? Lyanna fucking Stark, with her ratty blue hair and inability to think past her next meal was getting his fucking scholarship to Kings Landing College. Lyanna Stark. Great. Just great, after the year he'd had, just what he wanted. And yeah, Tywin was rich and Tywin could send him off to KLC, and Cersei too, even if she didn't get her precious law scholarship – because of him! – but he was always going to be the one that could have. And didn't. And lost out, to a Stark of all people. No, no, fucking mind, only if he let himself lose out to a Stark. The Starks were loaded, but nobody was as loaded as the Lannisters. He didn't need that scholarship. And he was going to prove it.

"You know?" Jaime whispered, forcing a smile onto his face. "I wasn't even trying."

Brienne nodded, but Jaime doubted she bought it. "And Lyanna was. I… I understand."

It felt simultaneously as though somebody had stabbed him in the gut and was slowly twisting the point of the blade around in his pinching, swirling bloody insides, and as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, a brick from his chest. He didn't know why. (Frankly, if he'd have gotten the scholarship now, he would have just felt guilty, even if Cersei got hers.) (So maybe he was glad, in a way.) (But he was still fucking fucked off.) (But then.) (No, he wasn't going to Hulk out now.) (Not in front of the she-Hulk herself.) (A month ago, he would have.) (But now he – got – it a bit more, that he was just guilty for his mishap ala Cersei's notes.) (And alienating Brienne Tarth further wouldn't help him right now.) (In fact, it would just make him feel a shit ton worse.) (So what did he do?) (Change the subject to one where he could still be the cool, collected Jaime Lannister he wanted to be.)

"You never did tell me why you came, you know."

Brienne looked uncertain. "We can go back inside, or…" Jaime just looked at her, and finally she was not looking anywhere else but him. After a long pause, he finally got his answer. "Galladon."

"What?" And it made no sense.

"Galladon. My brother?" Brienne drew in a deep breath, like she was talking to a child. "Honestly, do you even listen to anything I say?"

"I know who Galladon is." Jaime protested. "Need I remind you of our infamous lake scenario?" For half a second there was a flicker of rabbit-headlights in Brienne's eyes, but it soon edged away. "Or do you need something to jog your memory?" He grinned. Why was he doing this? Why was he even pursuing this?

"If, like you say, you do actually have an attention span, you might remember that I said I'm still in contact with him? We email, snapchat, whatever. You know I prefer to be by myself a lot but I always update Galladon on everything that's happening." Bullshit, Jaime wanted to say. Nobody preferred to be by themselves. Some people were just very comfortable with their own company, sometimes through necessity. Undoubtedly Brienne's case. (With added Angels by Robbie fucking Williams, that woman.) "He turned up two days ago, with his girlfriend. And when you called me tonight I was definitely not going to abandon all of my morals and come here with you. But Galladon reminded me of the Galladon he was named after – my dad was a Med Lit major for a while." Of course. That explained his excitement when the subject cropped up at dinner. "The Perfect Knight. You must have heard of him. It was my favourite story as a little kid, and the whole point of it is honour. Which is the point of everything. And Galladon told me it would be quite dishonourable if I left you without a date to your prom."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? That you're here because of your own absurd moral code?" If so, well done Brienne. Fucking hells.

"I wanted to come with you when you called and I just didn't know what to do."

Jaime sighed. No doubt the truth. "So it seems I have to educate you on how to communicate as well as socialize, dress and generally be."

"The point is honour, but I didn't really need a point, Jaime. Alysanne – Galladon's girlfriend – was the one who forced me into make up." Well, that made more sense.

And now, the cogs in Jaime's mind were beginning to turn. Brienne looked a little lost; like he was still genuinely annoyed that she took him up on his great life-turning epiphany because of some weird fascination with ancient chivalry that she had. That in itself was bullshit, that was just a scapegoat and she'd said as much herself. But he wanted to distract himself from the fact that a blue-haired mongrel had stolen his scholarship of Lannister pride from him. And he wanted to give a final finger-up to this damn school, a final slap in the face to everyone he'd called friend, been abandoned by, and would see at graduation and then never again. To prove that scholarships were not the only thing on his mind. There was a way, he was realizing, to tie all of that up in one neat little string. "Come on, woman," Jaime muttered, his plan formulating and unfolding in his mind. "My sister will stab me to death in my sleep if I'm not there to witness her crowning as prom queen."

"She wouldn't stab you." Brienne insisted as she let him drag her back down the corridor.

"Nope, pretty sure she would." He amended absently.

"I always thought of her weapon being more like poison than blades."

"Shut up and stop making me look brainless for once."

"You might actually be brainless, we don't know –"

"Shut up."

When they pushed back into the main function, the prom was in full swing, and the buffet table was half demolished – apparently Robert Baratheon had gotten there – and the drinks table too – apparently his sister had gotten there – and he forced his eyes away and his mouth shut when he saw Lyanna Stark, bouncing like a maniac and sort of screaming a lot. He couldn't face any Starks right now. Jaime eventually forced Brienne to dance with him, but when she stepped on his foot for the third time and it fucking hurt, Jaime felt like he should go and sort out the great plan, so he wormed away and sought out the person who could help him the most. People.

The first was a hired entertainment source, he'd say, who gruffly agreed to his case, as long as he made it quick. The second, unfortunately, was Ashara Dayne, who was hot, yes, and who was a hot cheerleader, yes, and who he knew quite well due to her popularity and her brother being one of Jaime's ex best mates. But knowing how all the other populars had been responding to him of late, he wasn't counting on her help. She was finally away from Elia Martell – honestly, what was it with girls, why did they have to travel in packs? That was why he liked Brienne. She wasn't a face in a friendship group (maybe because she had about three friends), she was Brienne. Wait. He liked Brienne?

"'Shara." Jaime hissed, gesturing her over in case she couldn't hear, thanks to the music."

"What?" Ashara muttered, still seated at the table where students were depositing their final votes from prom king and queen, flipping through a cardboard box of papers. "I'm the head of the dance committee and the prom committee and the student activities board, and I've got to announce prom king and queen in, like, half an hour, I'm really busy here."

"Yeah, okay, I need you to help me out." Jaime wasted no time in getting to the heart of the matter. He knew he was attacking the right person for what he wanted – Ashara Dayne was not really a pushover, but she enjoyed any sort of good time, she was such a girl girl, and she was always the emotional one whenever anything happened, the first to cry. So, after he'd whisper-shouted his request at her – no, his command, he was Jaime fucking Lannister – she reluctantly nodded.

"Fine, Jaime. After I've done the prom court, you can have, like, a really quick bit, and then, I'm done, okay?"

Much to his surprise, Jaime actually said thank you, before going off to find Rhaegar and Brienne in the crowd. It was alright. She was off chattering at Dacey Mormont or some other poor soul. Eventually, Ashara stepped out onto the stage (gods knew how in that ridiculous dress) and had their attention, tapping on the microphone, whilst the nominees for prom king and queen filtered onto the stage, either side of her, Rhaegar amongst them. Jaime wished him good luck and didn't know why. He'd rather Rhaegar win than Arthur or Robert B, both of whom were complete dickheads, although he supposed if Oberyn Martell got the crown it wouldn't be too bad.

"Hello, Westeros High students! I Ashara Dayne, head of the prom committee and the student activities board…" Etcetera, etcetera. She beamed. "The time has come, and the votes have been counted. Do we have our nominees for prom king and queen onstage?"

"What sort of a question is that, can girls not use their eyes?" Jaime muttered to which Brienne half-heartedly protested for her gender, shoving him slightly. A bubble of anticipation was rising up in his stomach to his chest, and definitely not for the Westeros High prom court. The time was coming. After the announcements, Dayne had said…

"In the running for prom king, we have Robert Baratheon –" A large cheer resounded. Okay. "Gerold Hightower, Arthur Dayne, and Rhaegar Targaryen!" Half-hearted clapping from those not hot or popular enough to be considered. Ashara opened the little envelope in her hands, why she needed one only the gods knew, did she really not know how to remember two measly little names? "And, Westeros High School's newest reigning prom king is… Rhaegar Targaryen!" Ashara announced. Jaime approved, and that was hardly a shock to the system, everyone knew the principal's son, the straight-A captain of the football team, and the school band would get prom king too, when Jaime wasn't in the running, so it was in a genuine way that he clapped along with Brienne and the rest of them. He just wished that Cersei, standing there in her sheath of Oscar-gold sparkles and dagger heels, looking so fucking smug already, did not win this now. Maybe that was a horrible thing to think, and maybe he was a shit brother, a shit twin, but this would do Cersei no good, to be crowned the queen to Rhaegar's king. She needed a lesson in humility if anything, and this was definitely not that.

"And for this year's prom queen, our lovely nominees are; Cersei Lannister, Elia Martell, Lyanna Stark and Catelyn Tully!" Lovely nominees, because she wasn't just annoyed that as the head of the prom committee and the controller of the ballots she was invalid for nomination. Some idiots in the front, probably the Kettleblack brothers, started a low chant of his twin's name. But that was probably just because she was wearing the shortest dress. Ashara fumbled with the envelope. "The Dragons' prom queen for this year is… Catelyn Tully!"

Jaime felt himself relax. Cat was… Cat was Brienne's friend. He respected her. And, though he hadn't voted at all, he'd heard the talk at the voting table – everyone was picking her purely because of the way she'd given them all such a good show the day of their final football match in Westeros High uniform, what with threatening Baelish with a restraining order and making clear she'd jumped Stark ships. Anyway, the two of them smiled and took their crowns graciously onto their heads, and the two of them plus the other nominees descended the makeshift stage and went to one side to have their pictures taken for the yearbook. Cersei, he caught a glimpse of, out of the corner of his eye – it was hard not to with all the glittering – was throwing a large tantrum.

Then, it hit him with dizzying force – this was his moment. Whilst Brienne was looking the other way, Jaime scrambled off, sought out Ashara. "Is it sorted?" He demanded, feeling the rising swarm in his stomach rise up onto his face, spreading out into a giddy grin. Ashara nodded yes. Okay. Okay. So, she wasn't actually going to do anything then? As the head of blah blah and the president of who gives a fuck, she wasn't going to do anything for him except make space. So… It was just him then? Great. Okay. He was Jaime fucking Lannister, he didn't need anybody else. Right.

He pushed his way through the crowd, shoving and swallowing to try and dissolve the lump of anticipated words wedged waiting in his throat. This was exactly the sort of specifically Jaime act that convinced his family he was a fool. He couldn't wait. In the corner of the room, he located the stairs to the stage, climbed them without really being aware of it. And then, with only half the room just beginning to realize Jaime Lannister was now on the musically-devoid stage, he reached the microphone, tapped it like Ashara did even though frankly he had no idea what that was supposed to do. And he smiled the Jaime smile that made it harder for any straight female or gay male to hate him so much.

"Hello Westeros!" Jaime declared into the remote, pretending like a little boy that it was hello, New York. Everyone blinked. "You may know me, two-year quarterback of the Dragons, star player, hilarious, angelically attractive?" Not exactly the reaction he'd wanted, but the reaction he'd expected. "Come on, a week ago, you all wanted to either date me or be me. But, apparently an innocent mistake on my poor little alarm clock's part appears to have changed all of that, moving on." Silence. Oh, awkward, this was awkward. "Anyway, you all are under the impression that I am a huge dickhead. Which I probably am, but so are all of you." He smiled broadly, paused. That was all he had to say to all of them.

"But there is something that I think needs to be said to one particular person. A person who has put up with me for some unfathomable reason, who has continually been there when I have shouted, raged, blamed, ignored, ridiculed and so on." Jaime made sure to make a big show of gesturing to the hired entertainment of the DJ man, who followed his earlier request. The opening chords of Angels filled the hall. "Brienne Tarth!" He was shouting now. Why? He didn't know. "Galladon was right! You needed to be here tonight. But if you're willing to completely forget everything I've ever said this year, then I will be willing to find you your point for you!"

He struggled, but managed to find her face in the crowd. She was standing by Catelyn Stark, with her mouth slightly open and her face the most spectacular shade of scarlet. He smirked smugly. "You know what? Brienne, if I am actually doing this rather than just experiencing a mild hallucination from all the hair products my sister slathered on my head sinking into my brain, then why don't you come up here and I can remind you of a time when I was a almost respectable human being for a moment."

She didn't move. The rabbit eyes were back. But she did have remarkable eyes.

Nothing.

So he started to sing. Why he knew the words to this godawful song that he had found on Brienne's iPod what seemed like forever ago, he did not know. But it did make Brienne traipse up to the stage steps, through a crowd parted like the red sea, and Jaime yanked her onstage, and before doing anything else spoke his final words into the microphone. "Also, all you haters – I'm far more attractive than you, so…" He paused thoughtfully, knowing full well that he'd have to make a run for it soon after he said what he wanted to say. Still. All that was left was graduation ceremony – they couldn't do anything anymore. "Why don't you all just go fuck yourselves?"

"Remind me of when, Jaime?" Brienne said tightly, looking absolutely terrified.

Jaime said a word.

Lake.

And then he grabbed her hands and kissed her, blamed shock for her lack of response and quickly ran offstage, tugging her after him, and out out of the school into the cool night air. It was raining again, but lightly now, a miasma more mist than dribble. Brienne was laughing, although she looked like she wanted to kill herself, or maybe him. He never really knew. Maybe it didn't matter. "Well, you can't say I don't know how to go out with a bang."

"There's still graduation. That wasn't going out, that was pissing off everybody."

Jaime smiled. Limousine be fucked, he could call Chataya for them in a minute. He had celebrated prom all he needed. He'd call Chataya. In a minute. Jaime grinned, and studied her face and wondered why she had this effect on him, as he leaned in, once more pressing his lips against hers. And this time, she did kiss back. And this time, he was sure it was one huge step closer to being monumental.

He was Jaime fucking Lannister. He knew how to have a good time.

A/N ~ Don't even ask.