"Coming through!"

Sansa put the cake on the table, and sighed with relief.

"That looks better than last time, right?"

Robb groaned. "I hope it tastes good. I will faint if I don't eat soon."

"If it tastes bad," Bran leaned in towards the table. "I am trying next time."

"No way!" Robb and Rickon shouted at the same time, then shared a wicked smile with each other.

"Shut up, all of you." Jon turned down to look at the girl lying with her head on his lap. Her feet were hanging off the the side of the sofa.

"What's up with your foul mood?" Rickon asked. Arya didn't answer.

Sansa was already back in the kitchen. She came out again with a big bowl of pudding.

"I am not supposed to do all of this alone, am I?" She glared. Robb sighed and stood up, Bran following after. Rickon stayed in his spot.

"I can't move because Arya isn't letting me," Jon said, grinning.

"Well, so much for your disabilities," Robb shouted sarcastically.

"Fuck!" Arya suddenly shouted.

Jon was surprised by the way she stood up frantically. She stared at him and shook her head in frustration.

"What?" Jon asked surprised.

"I told you to fucking shut up!" She shouted again.

"What's wrong?" Robb asked, walking towards them worriedly. Arya rolled her eyes and made her way towards the door.

"Sansa, put my share aside, I'll eat it later," she said over her shoulder, and without looking at anyone, went out of the house, closing the door behind her with a loud bang.

"What the hell was that?" Rickon asked.

Jon was still frozen to his spot. That look...

But I haven't done anything!

"Jon..." He turned to Sansa who was looking at him sadly, shaking her head.

"What did I do?"

"Go after her," Robb said, again busy carrying the dishes. "And bring her back."

"I was going to, anyway," Jon said and gathered his coat.

He walked out of the doors out into the snow. He clutched his coat tighter around himself, and walked ahead.

Wait, do I know where she is?

That girl would be his death one day. Arya was the only girl in the world who would walk out of her house on Christmas Eve away from the warmth of a hearth into the snowfall.

It was late at night. It was the Starks' tradition to wish each other Merry Christmas at midnight. Jon had been present on most of their holidays, ever since he had started living with them fifteen years ago, after his parents' death.

"Where are you?" He mumbled under his breath. There were people scattered along the street, laughing and talking merrily. The lights coming out a pub almost tempted him go get a drink, but Arya would shred him alive if he went to her with the smell of alcohol on him. For some reason, she hated it when he drank, even though she was quite fond of a drink or two herself.

"Jon?" Samwell Tarly smiled at him. He was a plump boy, and Jon was quite fond of him. They were quite the pals during high school.

"Hey, Sam," he replied.

"Would you like to go in for a drink?" He pointed towards the pub.

"No, I don't think so. Hey, have you seen Arya around? I was looking for her actually."

Sam arched his brow. "I think I did, but I can't be sure. The High School. She went that way."

"Thanks, Sam." Jon smiled, and Sam nodded.

Sam wasn't wrong. She was standing under the mistletoe, staring up at it. She hugged herself and blew air on her hands. Her cheeks were flushed.

"Arya," he called.

"Why do you follow me?" She asked, without looking around.

Jon took a few steps closer. "That's what I do."

"Well, you aren't supposed to," she shot back.

He stood infront of her now, and took her hands between his own, rubbing them.

Arya frowned at him.

"What did I do this time?" He asked, smiling.

"Nothing," she said, looking away from him.

"Arya," he called again, looking at her face. He kept on looking although she wouldn't look back at him. "What did I do?" He kissed her hands.

Arya pulled them away with a glare.

"This!" She shouted. "You shouldn't kiss my hands!"

"What's wrong with me kissing your hands?"

"You shouldn't!"

"But-"

"Bloody hell, Jon!" She cursed and turned away from him, hands crossed under her chest.

Jon chuckled. "You don't like my kisses?" He asked teasingly.

"You only want to kiss my hands," Arya mumbled.

"What's that?"

She turned around. "I said you only-"

He cut her off with a kiss, on her lips this time. Arya looked at him with wide eyes.

"W-W-Wh..."

"This must be my lucky day." Jon smirked. He pulled her to him by her waist. "I've left Arya Stark speechless."

A smile started attaching itself to Arya's face. She jumped up to meet his lips, and he kissed her back. Jon pulled back and smiled at her glowing face.

"Now, will you tell me why you stormed away?" He asked.

"Because I wanted to do this." She pecked him on the lips. "But God, you are so stupid, you never try to make a move."

"You were angry at me because you wanted to kiss me?" He asked amused.

She shrugged, at which Jon kissed her again.

The sound of the ringing of bells brought them back to earth.

"Merry Christmas," Arya said, smiling in a way that made his heart ache.

"Merry Christmas," he replied.

They started walking back hand in hand.

"Should I brace myself for shovel talks?" He asked.

"They are more likely to hit you with a shovel." Arya winked. "I think Sansa knows."

"Well, it's been two years."

Arya stopped in her tracks and turned to him with a scrutinizing look. "How do you know how long I've loved you?"

"Because," he nuzzled his nose against hers. "I've loved you longer."

Arya chuckled.

"But I was the one to initiate it," she declared proudly.

"Well, I am glad you did."

He looked at her face illuminated by the lights, the lush shade of pink her cheeks had turned to because of the cold.

"Merry Christmas," he said again and leaned in to kiss her.

A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS! I am in mushy mushy mode. So this came out. I hope everyone is enjoying the holidays. Christmas makes me crazy happy! XD

Ho ho ho! =D