Chapter 3 - Venice - Day 2

How dare Joffrey try to put Jon down for his taste in clothes? This from someone who never grew out of their preppy high school wardrobe, Sansa thought as she laid awake. It was morning now and she was going over the events of last night in her head before she got up to shower. Plus, I saw quite a few female eyes eating Jon up at dinner. That suit was so perfectly tailored for him. No one was looking at Joffrey in the same way, not even his own fiancé. Ugh, I wish I could just tell him that, she thought bitterly. She turned her head to sneak a peek at the sleeping Jon. When she woke up earlier, his hand had been covering hers in between them. She found she didn't mind it one bit. But now he was beginning to stir. Sansa quickly got up and went to the bathroom to shower. When she was done and came back out, Jon was propped up in bed and smirking at his phone.

"Good morning," he greeted.

"Good morning," she repeated back with a smile.

Jon slid out of bed and padded to the bathroom, Sansa hearing the shower turn on behind the closed door. She checked her own phone and found a bunch of notifications. Comments on her and Jon's picture from the previous night - fire emojis, heart eye emojis, Margaery once again saying they're such a cute couple. Well this is going to for sure confuse a lot of people in my life, she thought, realizing she never really thought out all the ramifications of this big lie she was spinning. There were a few private messages as well. One from Arya, 'wow, you guys are really selling this relationship.' One from Theon, just a bunch of question marks. One from her good friend Jeyne, Sansa having completely forgotten to inform her about the fake boyfriend thing. 'Girl! What is happening? Secretly, I always thought you and Jon would be good together, but I underestimated just how great you two would look together! This is so dreamy. Why didn't you tell me?' Sansa decided Jeyne deserved a reply of clarification. She tried putting it as simply as she could. 'We're not actually together. Just pretending. It's a super long story that I will completely explain when I come home, I promise!' After sending that off, she went on to pick out her outfit for the day.

"So what's the plan for today, Ms. Tour Guide?" Jon asked, coming back into the room with wet hair and clad, once again, in the hotel robe. She found his newfound affinity for the robe delightful.

"Burano. And, later, we have cocktails and a private museum tour at the Peggy Guggenheim Collection with everyone. After that, it's a gondola ride."

Once done with getting ready, they headed out. Again, they trekked through the narrow streets and over the small bridges of Venice. Sansa took in all the worn details of the soft earthy-colored buildings they passed. The happiness she felt to be there was immense and she couldn't help but smile dreamily at her surroundings. And Jon ended up being a great travel buddy, she thought as she glanced at him studying a muted red building. I didn't even need to be worried about things being awkward with us having to spend so much time together. Okay, so the fake boyfriend/girlfriend thing and the sharing a bed thing can be a little awkward at times. But it's not even that bad. Her mind started to drift to waking up next to him, but before she could even begin to acknowledge that, Jon broke her out of her thoughts.

"I love the random pops of greenery throughout this city," he mentioned, gesturing to the vine that had weaved itself along a windowsill over time.

"Well, you've already seen me fall fantastically in love with that garden we passed when we arrived; I think we all know how much I love the greenery," Sansa chuckled. Jon's answering grin pulled at something within her that she couldn't quite pinpoint.

They stopped for breakfast in a small, picturesque square before continuing on. The pathways were steadily becoming more crowded, multiple times they had to bob and weave around arriving tourists, their luggage trailing behind them as they searched for their lodgings. She felt that inward tug when she caught him smiling in her direction as she ran her hand along the ivy that covered a timeworn wall, its bricks nearly blending together with age, in the narrowest of alleys. Weird. What is that? she wondered at the feeling.

Once they reached the water's edge, they found the correct waterbus line and hopped onto the awaiting vaporetto, making sure to get a spot on the side so they could appreciate the view. Passengers streamed in, the space becoming more crowded. Jon stood closer to her now, in a way that effectively blocked off other tourists from squeezing in on her. Sansa found it rather comforting. So what? It's something Robb would do too, she told herself. Finally, the vaporetto pulled away from the dock. First, they boated past San Michele Island on the right, Sansa telling Jon that a cemetery laid beyond the walls that bordered the island's edge, where the first Renaissance church in Venice was as well as the gravesites for the likes of Igor Stravinsky, Ezra Pound, and a Russian princess. She kept reminding herself that she didn't want to be an annoying know-it-all constantly, but whenever she looked over at Jon as she spat out more facts, he wore a genuinely interested look on his face. It was very different to Harry's annoyed glares or Joffrey's bored ones. Sansa inwardly smiled in appreciation. On the left stretched the series of islands that made up Murano, well known for their glassmaking, as she informed Jon. Further along, a much smaller, walled off island sat to the right. "San Giacomo in Paludo. Very old, 11th century, I think. Now it's just ruins," Sansa informed, taking in the vegetation that had grown to overtake the dilapidated remaining structures beautifully. Two much tinier islands were next and Sansa once again fell in love with the scene. Walls, crumbling from their age and weather, adorned the tiny pieces of land, slowly shrinking from the assault of salty waves. A larger structure stood on the bigger island, its roof gone and greenery, overrunning from the inside, pouring down the exterior walls. "Madonna del Monte. It used to be a monastery until Napoleon tore it down. I believe it became a gunpowder storage building until it was abandoned."

"You love it, don't you?" Jon asked, looking over at her and noticing her enraptured look as they passed by,

"It's that obvious?" she laughed.

"Just a little. You get a rather dreamy look on your face," he explained with a smile.

Sansa could feel herself blush as she turned away to focus on what was coming next. The vaporetto waded between the two sides that made up Mazzorbo, a little neighborhood of brighter colored structures than those in Venice stretched to the right of the boat. And after a 45 minute total ride, the water bus pulled up to the Burano stop.

Following the crowds, they headed straight down the path once they disembarked. They walked by lace shops, Sansa admiring the beautifully delicate, handcrafted, world-famous lace. The narrow street they were on led to the canals that ran through the island. Buildings painted in a rainbow of vibrant colors lined the streets. Each one was different. It gave the smaller island a livelier aspect when compared to the muted, earth tones of Venice. Jon pointed out how the houses reflected brightly in the canal. Sansa immediately started taking pictures of the view and then of each colored house she favored as they went by. They came upon a bridge, Tre Ponte, near the edge of the island, a perfect view of particularly beautiful homes and small boats parked along the sides of the canals. Sansa found someone nearby to take their picture with the scene before they continued on. They found Burano's own leaning tower just as the bells within started to chime loudly. Stumbling on a bakery, Sansa insisted they try the bussola, a Burano cookie. After downing a few of those, they ventured on and found a well that was supposed to date back to the 500s.

"How many pictures of colorful houses is considered to be excessive?" Sansa wondered out loud as she took yet another of a bright bubblegum pink building.

Once they got their fill of the land, they meandered back toward the vaporetto stop. Finding a very long line waiting to board the next few water buses, Sansa suggested they head over to the neighboring island of Mazzorbo and find the vaporetto stop there. Walking on, they crossed over the waterway on a long bridge that connected the two islands and continued down a waterfront path. The houses there weren't as numerous and tended to be spaced out, they were colorful but not as vibrant as Burano's, and there were plenty of open greenspaces that were much different than the other islands they explored. Best of all, there were barely any people out and about there, making their stroll quite leisurely and peaceful. Sansa liked how she and Jon could just walk along quietly and not feel the need to fill any uncomfortable silence - especially since she previously thought this trip would be filled with a ton of uncomfortable silence between them. She peeked over at him a few times and noticed his calm captivation on his face, a tiny smile curling at the corners of his lips.

Picking their way to the other side of the island, they found the stop and only a few people waiting for the next boat. After arriving back in Venice and finding a small restaurant for lunch, they headed straight for their hotel to ready for the second half of their day. Sansa once again picked out Jon's outfit for the evening. She liked that he trusted her on that. It didn't hurt that he completely kills it in the slim-fitted attire he brought for these fancier outings. This time, she chose the navy pants and a crisp, white dress shirt. As he buttoned up the shirt in front of the mirror, Sansa caught herself gazing a little too long at the view and quickly turned to the bathroom to change. She donned a delicate, floral dress that made her think of an Italian summer when she first saw it while shopping for the trip. Slipping into heels, Sansa took Jon's awaiting arm and they headed toward the elevator. He had expertly rolled up his sleeves, her hand now resting on his bare forearm. She didn't know why she found that so captivatingly sexy. It's just a fucking arm, she told herself.

Through the lobby, they exited out onto the hotel's dock where the boat would ferry them diagonally across the Grand Canal to the museum. A few of their group were already there and loading into the sleek Riva yacht. Sansa and Jon waited for the boat's return. Unfortunately, the next couple that came out to join them was Harry and Saffron. Jon and Sansa shared a look of dread. She wanted to stay as far from Harry as was possible for the rest of the trip. She should have known that was just wishful thinking.

At the previous night's dinner, he had been typical Harry, trying to lie and put others down in order to make himself look better and get his way. He had the audacity to allege Jon was just with her for her family's money and to use her sexually just to spite him. Sansa found that absolutely laughable, which Harry didn't enjoy. He tried to come up with more falsities on the fly, and she could see the panicked concentration on his face. He spat out that Jon was looking at other women, that he heard Jon saying bad things about her family, and insisted that Jon was trash and would never be good enough for "their kind". Sansa was done giving time to this man she thought she used to love. She told him to fuck off and went back to Jon. There was no point in wasting her breath to argue with that asshole of a man. He didn't even deserve that effort. And, obviously, Jon's not trying to get my family money or use me, considering we're not even together, she had reasoned. There's no way in hell he was talking shit about my family. And who cares if he's looking at other girls, he's not actually my boyfriend.

Sansa offered a half-hearted smile to Saffron, not willing to give Harry any of her attention, and prayed that more of her friends would come out to the dock. Thankfully, they were saved by Daario and his girlfriend. After some small talk, the hotel's boat came back. Jon boarded and offered his hand to assist her, which Sansa gratefully took, not wanting to fall in her heels as she got in. The ride only took a couple of minutes before they were docking in front of the 18th century palace that housed the modern art museum. A couple of large trees could be seen behind the white stone walls with planters lining the tops of them; the simple contrast between the green and white was beautiful. Once out of the boat, a museum guide led them up to the rooftop terrace, closed to the rest of the public, for a cocktail reception. Green turf covered the ground up there and jasmine filled the air from the surrounding hedges. They had a terrific panoramic view of the canal, the Gritti Palace off to one side and the Academy Bridge on the other. Once they got their drinks, they went to the terrace railing to take pictures, Jon sending off a few to his mom. Sansa made him take a silly selfie with her so she could send it to her family.

"You two look gorgeous," Margaery drawled as she approached them.

"And you look absolutely killer," Sansa complimented. Say what you will about Margaery's negative qualities, she consistently looked stunning and her clothes were always to die for. That green dress she wore to dinner the previous night would haunt Sansa for a long time.

"Thanks, hun," she said, straightening the sapphire blue fabric of her current frock. "So did you lovers enjoy your day exploring?"

"It was great! Burano's beautiful. How was your day?"

"Oh, it was good." Margaery's voice was a bit blasé with a wave of her hand. "Joff bought me a beautiful little Versace number, though. You'll have to see it!"

They gathered around one of the cocktail tables that was scattered along the terrace, simple but stunning floral arrangements sat on each one. Finely dressed servers meandered about with rustic boards topped with delicious little snacks like crostini and arancini. A couple members of their party migrated to their table and fell into conversation while the final members of their group arrived on the terrace. Sansa took a sip of her summery orange-colored Aperol spritz as Varys asked Jon about his writing process. She found herself captivated with his explanation, realizing she was staring at his mouth for far too long to be considered normal. Tearing her eyes away from those plush-looking lips, she loved the passion his eyes exuded as he went into detail. She had never really heard him talk about it with such ardor. Of course you haven't. It's not like you went out of your way to have deeper conversations with him besides 'hi, how have you been' before this trip, she thought.

Once done with their cocktail reception, they were led downstairs for their private tour of the modern art museum. It was now closed to the public and they had the place entirely to themselves. Works by the likes of Picasso, Kandinsky, Salvador Dali, and Jackson Pollock adorned the white walls. Interesting sculptures were scattered about. And the courtyard and sculpture garden, including Peggy Guggenheim's gravestone and resting place for her fourteen dogs, was absolutely splendid.

Sansa could just feel Harry's cold eyes on her at times. In those moments, she would reach toward Jon, hooking her arm with his or slipping her hand into his. He took it all in stride without missing a beat. It was becoming a bit instinctual for them already. And, probably sensing their audience, Jon would sometimes rest his hand on the small of her back as their guide informed them about the masterpieces. I wish his hand would just stay there, it feels so damn nice, she thought as they moved on to the next room and she felt the soothing pressure of his touch leaving her.

When their private tour came to an end, they headed to the dock and took their turns getting ferried back to the hotel. Once all gathered, Margaery led them to the gondola station next to it, nine gondolas laid in wait. Probably due to her constant Italian vacations throughout her life, Margaery began to speak in rapid fire Italian with a gondolier who awaited them, checking them in for their scheduled gondola ride. How have I not learned Italian in all the years I wanted to come here? Sansa wondered to herself.

"Alrighty, my lovelies, let's start loading them up!" Margaery exclaimed when she turned back to them.

Two boats at a time, each couple walked down onto the dock and boarded their own. Sansa and Jon let the others go ahead of them, hoping to be at the back of the pack. Finally, it was just them and Margaery and Joffrey remaining, stepping onto their gondolas and settling into the ornate loveseats. A handsome man, Luca, wearing the typical striped shirt, stood at the back with oar in hand. He greeted them with a kind nod and a "ciao."

"Isn't this so romantic, Sansa?" Margaery exclaimed from her side of the small dock. "You can get super cuddly with your beau!"

Sansa noticed the grimace on Joffrey's face as Margaery did just that. Keeping up appearances, she sat closer to Jon, their bodies pressed side by side. She was grateful that he didn't hesitate and intertwined his fingers with hers. She shot Margaery a smile as her and Joffrey's gondola backed out and into the Grand Canal before their own followed suit. Making an exit from the busy waterway, they turned into a narrow side canal; leaning over, she could see a couple more of their group's boats rounding a corner ahead. Whenever the gondolas ventured too close to a wall, the gondoliers gracefully kicked out their leg to push away from it. In these smaller, much more intimate canals, Luca smoothly maneuvered around the corners effortlessly. They passed close to the rough brick of the buildings that lined the canals, large windows and doorways were barred with decorative old metal. Under bridges, the gondoliers would bend down as they coasted under; the tourists on top, finding their way around, some moving fast with their nose buried in their cell phone's map, not looking around and marveling at the wonders that made Venice so beautifully aged. Luca told them little tidbits about the city, the number of islands, bridges, and churches. He pointed out several interesting spots as they went by, giving mini history lessons about it all. Sansa and Jon loved every minute of it, asking questions and being amazed by his knowledge. They learned he was born and raised there, getting his opinions on the real Venice. Luca told them he loves when he has customers who are genuinely curious about his city. From his heavily accented English, he switched to his beautiful Italian when greeting and conversing with passing gondoliers and boat drivers. At some point, Sansa noticed she and Jon had never dropped each other's hand, the sides of their bodies still pressed together. Even after she noticed, Sansa still didn't move. This truly is cheesily romantic, she thought. And so what if I'm not with a boyfriend? A pretend one will do just fine in the moment.

They slowly approached another bridge, a family was paused on top of it, taking pictures. Their children, seeing Margaery and Joffrey's boat pass beneath them, turned toward Sansa and Jon's with enthusiastic grins.

"Bacio! Bacio! Bacio!" they shouted.

"Ah, they are suggesting you two kiss," Luca notified them.

"Yes! Kiss, lovebirds!" Margaery's voice came from ahead. Sansa could just see the top of her head turn toward them, peeking over her seat, with her phone coming up to document the moment.

Sansa didn't know what to do. Yes, she and Jon had gone over the kissing situation and they had both agreed that they would be okay with it. However, it still felt weird to just force him into a spontaneous one. But the gentle squeeze from his hand eased her mind. She turned to him and found a lopsided smile that simply read, "Welp, it's time." She smiled back in confirmation.

Jon's hand lightly cupped the side of her face. Sansa took a deep breath and they leaned toward one another, faces slightly tilted and eyes closed. Their lips met, softly, warm and light. Sansa had previously thought any kisses they shared would be pecks just to continue their charade - short, sweet, and to-the-point. But this was more. It wasn't overly long, oh no. His face was pulling away from hers in just a matter of seconds. But it was still much more than a simple peck. Lips moved against one another. Sansa found his to be pillow-like yet firm, as contradictory as that was. In those few seconds, she began to feel herself fall into that kiss in no way she could ever remember feeling before. The quietest of hums escaped her as his lips left hers.

Did I just fucking hum? she wondered as she quickly turned her attention to the cheering children, giving them a smile and wave right before they coasted under the bridge. Her heart was beating fast. She knew a blush was coloring her face, she could feel the warmth of it. Through it all, however, they still were holding hands.

After a 45 minute ride, the gondola dock came into sight. They profusely thanked Luca for the perfect ride and for his knowledge. When they unloaded and came back onto the street, their entire group was gathered around, talking about their experiences.

"It was boring," Joffrey stated, as if it was an undeniable fact. "And our guy refused to sing. Isn't that what they do?"

"I believe that's only a stereotype seen in movies, my sweet," Margaery tried to appease.

"And all the guy wanted to do was give us fucking history lessons. I've had enough of those already," Joffrey continued, like his fiancé hadn't said anything.

"We enjoyed that aspect. It was really interesting to hear about it from a local," Jon added.

"Yeah, I could hear you two behind us the whole way, asking question after question about it all. I swear, you two were more interested in the city's history than in each other," Joffrey scoffed with a smirk. Sansa could see Harry's eyebrows arch up.

"That's definitely not the case," Jon answered smoothly, his hand snaking around her back and coming to a rest on her hip, holding her close. Sansa gave him a flirtatious smile while placing a hand on his chest.

"Yes, they shared the most romantic kiss on it, as well. It was to die for," Margaery gushed. "Don't worry Sans, I recorded it and I'll send it to you!"

"Awww! Let me see!" Ellaria demanded. Margaery whipped out her phone and pulled up the video. Sansa could see Harry subtly peeking over Shae's head to see it. He then looked away with an ugly sneer and flared nostrils.

You're not catching me in this lie like I caught you in yours, asshole, she thought happily.

"Okay, everyone. You can all enjoy the rest of our last night in Venice on your own. Tomorrow morning, meet in the lobby, ready to go, at 9! Buona notte, my dears!" Margaery announced to the group.

"Are you hungry? Because I'm hungry," Jon asked Sansa, still holding her close.

"Yes. Definitely. How about that place Luca suggested? I think I can navigate us there."

"Lead the way."

They left the group quickly, walking away hand-in-hand. She concentrated on getting them to their destination, a lovely place that Luca told them was where locals ate. But when they arrived and were sat at a table, all Sansa could think about was their kiss. Should I bring it up? She thought. Or is that terribly awkward? He's already had to kiss his best friend's sister, why make him relive it? Instead, they discussed how much they loved the ride and what Luca shared with them, going over their favorite points and facts.

"I think there's going to be a large historical aspect to my next book. I haven't quite worked it all out yet, but it's definitely going to be there. I mean, how could it not, after hearing about all the history here in the past two days?" Jon laughed.

"So you have a general idea on what the story will be?" Sansa asked excitedly, hoping for hints.

"Yeah, an idea. But I'm not telling you," he teased.

"Oh come on! Let me have that inside knowledge! My family would be so jealous!"

"Nope. It's too early, I'm still forming it."

After dinner, they stopped for their daily dose of gelato, and headed back to the Gritti Palace. Getting ready for bed, they donned the lavish robes one last time. Sansa climbed into bed, grabbing a pen and the postcard she had bought in Burano earlier that day. The ever colorful houses with their reflections in the canal water on the front, she turned it over and wrote about their day on the back. As she paused and thought about what to write next, she looked up toward Jon, sitting at the handsome desk and diligently writing in his notebook. She thought about their kiss. She thought about the feeling that filled her in the midst of it. A feeling she never had before. His hand against her cheek. His perfectly soft but firm lips. The subtle taste of him left on her own. The inadvertent hum she made when he pulled away, as if she didn't want it to end. When Jon moved to slip the notebook into his bag, Sansa hastily went back to writing about their day. He slid under the covers next to her. Her heart beat a little faster as she tried to concentrate on the postcard.

"Good night," he offered.

"Night," she nearly squeaked.

Sansa finished writing and set the card and pen on the nightstand before laying down. Looking at her phone, there was a notification, the video Margaery had promised to send her. She watched it over and over. The gentle way his hand came to her face, the tilt of his head, his eyes closing. The two of them leaning in. Lips upon lips. It looked innocent enough while still being beyond believable, just a couple sharing a soft, romantic kiss. Turns out Jon Snow is a damned good actor, she thought and set her phone on the nightstand. As she drifted to sleep, she swore she could feel the ghostly whisper of his lips on hers.