Chapter 4 - Florence - Day 3

Still mostly asleep, Jon could vaguely sense a subtle weight sliding off his chest. An arm, his groggy mind suggested. The bed creaked with movement. Barely lifting his lids, he could just make out the flash of red hair disappearing into the bathroom and heard the shower turn on. Glancing at the clock, he decided he might as well wake up too. He grabbed his phone and noticed even more notifications. Jon swore he had never been so popular in all his life. That's what happens when you start 'dating' Sansa Stark, I guess.

The previous morning, he had already accepted the follow requests from half of their group, now that he was deemed worthy enough to orbit their circle. Oddly enough, there seemed to be more attention from women on his instagram, ones he knew to various degrees and ones he didn't know at all but they followed Sansa. Apparently, having a gorgeous woman by your side makes you more desirable, he had figured. His favorite though, the ones that made him smirk at his phone's screen yesterday morning, were the teasing messages from friends. "So you're going all GQ now?" - Pyp. "Stop overachieving. You're making us all look bad." - Edd. "You drugged her didn't you? Put her under some sort of spell? A curse? Did a forest witch give you some sort of potion? That's the only way I can explain your luck at getting Sansa." - Grenn. Jon had realized he didn't quite think this plan through in respect to people outside of Sansa's friends thinking they were together. Granted, he really hadn't considered social media since he only ever really used it when his publisher or agent begged him to. But everyone seemed to think he and Sansa were something of an item now. We need to get that story straight before we get back home, he thought. The idea of them at the airport, going over what to tell their loved ones back home, matching them figuring out their dating story at LAX, made him smile.

That smile grew wider as he opened a video that Margaery had sent him after he fell asleep. The kiss. He was shocked at how cool, calm, and collected he appeared considering the inner panic he felt in that moment. He remembered his thoughts being so incredibly jumbled. He remembered the involuntary nervous squeeze he gave her hand as the kids cheered for a kiss and Margaery egged it on. His nerves seemed to be getting the best of him. But there he was, his hand gently along her cheek and unabashedly leaning in toward her. Suave, he smirked as he watched. Their lips met. Jon had gotten lost in that kiss. It felt much longer than it actually was, they were soon pulling away from what appeared to be a very appropriate and believable kiss. He had been scared he went too far; they had never actually discussed what kind of kiss would be acceptable, maybe she would have preferred to keep it more of a chaste peck. But as they pulled away, he heard the softest noise come from her. Something like a gentle hum. It was barely noticeable and a part of him still thought he was just hearing things. Whether she hummed or not (and whether that even meant a damn thing) Sansa didn't seem uncomfortable with it. Afterward, they continued on with their night like nothing happened. But that kiss kept replaying in his mind until he fell asleep - just as much as he was currently replaying that video over and over. Absent-mindedly, two of his fingers pressed to his lips in the same soft pressure he had felt. When the bathroom door suddenly swung open, Jon had never jumped out of bed faster in his life.

"I'm not ready to say goodbye to this robe yet," Sansa lamented, wrapped in the fluffy white fabric and brushing out her hair.

"I'm surprised you haven't already figured out how to stuff it into your overly full suitcase. But if you do, try stuffing mine in there too," Jon joked, earning a cheery smile from Sansa.

"Oh, before you hop in the shower, I need you to take a picture of me in that gorgeous bathroom. In the robe, obviously," she suggested. Jon laughed as she led the way, watching with amusement as she playfully posed herself dramatically on the edge of the bathtub as if this picture would be in Vogue. Her flaming hair stood out brilliantly from the dark green marble walls, her legs slipping out of the opening of the robe as she positioned them just so. "Perfection," she approved when she looked at the result.

Jon chased away that image and the repeating memory of the kiss from his head with a last shower in the impossibly elegant bathroom. Instead, he thought of their next destination, Florence, and what could possibly happen next. It had only been a couple of days but felt so much longer, in both good and not great ways. Having to be around this group (granted, some of them weren't as bad anymore) and having to make sure his boyfriend-mode was always "on" was a bit tiring, and there was still a long way to go on that front. But exploring Venice with Sansa in the last few days had felt as fulfilling as a full-blown long vacation and it made him excited to get to the next stop.

Having packed up (and sorrowfully hanging up their robes where they found them), they stacked up their luggage for the porters to take down and then headed to the lobby where they were guided to the restaurant terrace. There, a few members of their group were milling about a long table that carried fanciful platters of pastries and fruit tartlets, an attendant handing out cappuccinos, and some tables with vases filled with flowers. It was a beautiful morning, the warm sunshine bounced off the water that they sat by, the reflections getting distorted whenever boats cruised by.

"I'm going to really miss this," Sansa sighed, stating what Jon was just thinking.

"Me too. While I'm thrilled to see all the destinations on the itinerary, I also don't want to leave this."

"Venice is gonna be in your next book, right?" she asked, a playful threat in her tone.

"Definitely." Jon already knew it was going to be a main setting of the story.

"Good. Then I can relive this wonderful city in your words again and again," she smiled.

He got bashful at that. It was the idea that she may be rereading his book time and again, finding beauty in his words so much so that it could bring back the image and feel of this ancient city for her. Or maybe you're just reading way too much into it. She's just being nice. She'll read your book once and it'll sit on her bookshelf, he told himself. But he couldn't stop his mind from picturing the new book with its worn spine sitting next to the Italian version of his first one that she had bought the other day. Her insistence to buy that was touching. Stop reading into things.

Breaking him from his thoughts, Margaery's voice piped up. "Unfortunately, it is time for us to say our farewell to the exquisite Gritti Palace and Venezia. Next stop, Firenze!" She led them to the dock to board the awaiting boats, the same sleek wooden ones that had picked them up from the airport.

Two couples per boat, Jon thanked the gods it was Varys and Illyrio who climbed in after them. A bottle of Dom was popped, poured, and sipped as they coasted along the Grand Canal. Varys and Illyrio gave a rundown of the drama that occurred amongst the group already. Uninterested in that, Jon tuned them out to just take in the views.

"There it is, Jon!" Sansa exclaimed, bringing him out of his little reverie. That garden, her garden, came into view. She gazed lovingly at it with a theatrical sigh as they neared.

"What are we looking at?" Varys asked, glancing around.

Jon pointed to the garden. "That. Sansa fell in love with that place as we first arrived here."

"Oh, my dear, I can so imagine you there, standing at the edge amongst all those roses, breathlessly waiting for your handsome lover to pull up in his gondola. All flowing dress and gorgeous hair in the warm breeze."

"And a romantic instrumental piece filling the air," Jon added, the words unintentionally slipping his lips.

"Ah, it seems your handsome lover has already thought about it," Illyrio teased.

Embarrassed, Jon took a glimpse at Sansa before busying himself with pouring more champagne. Only able to see the side of her face as she kept staring out, he could spot a bashful smile. Great, you've made her uncomfortable, he told himself.

"That scene deserves to be in a book, wouldn't you say, Mr. Author?" Varys simpered.

"Have either of you ever been to Florence? I'm interested in all the Renaissance history there," Jon said quickly, doing his best to change the subject. Luckily, the couple were pleased to announce that they had been there a few years prior and launched into their stories of that trip.

Their boat followed the bends of the canal until they reached the front of the Santa Lucia railway station, where they unloaded. Standing in the large open space outside the terminal with the bustling crowds and waiting for the rest of their group to disembark their boats, Jon and Sansa took one last look at their surroundings. Sitting across the canal from them was a tall structure, with white walls and a seafoam green dome. The church of San Simeone Piccolo, as Sansa mentioned when she saw him staring at it. It was the first big Venetian sight that travelers saw when arriving by train, and it would be the last he would see as they left.

Once they all gathered together, a woman with a kind smile stepped up and greeted them, introducing herself as the Trenitalia concierge. She escorted them through the terminal and straight to a train. The porters followed them with the luggage. Jon watched as they loaded each large suitcase onto the train and felt like a lazy snob. Margaery had assured them that they would need not worry about their things as they traveled, that they would have porters at every stop on their trip. I really need to get used to traveling as they do, he thought before offering a word of gratitude to one of the men as he walked by.

"All aboard, my lovelies!" Margaery called out as she stepped onto the business class car.

Entering, they found leather seats with tables, grouped into fours and twos. Sansa beelined it to two chairs facing each other with a table between and a large window next to them. "So we can just ride in peace," she whispered conspiratorially. Jon was very okay with that. An attendant came by and offered drinks, both of them choosing espressos. Just as he was about to take a sip, Margaery snuck up beside Sansa, leaning down to their seated level. Jon stifled a laugh when Sansa nearly dropped her tiny cup in surprise. Margaery began to profusely apologize for not booking them the executive class cabin, explaining that it only fit eight and some of the seats had already been booked. Apparently Joffrey wanted to utilize it just for him and her but she had insisted they sit with their friends. "No worries at all, Margaery! We're more than comfortable here, this is excellent," Sansa promised and Jon nodded in response. It seemed to please Margery enough and she went back to her seat. "That's weird."

"What is?" Jon asked, digging into the little bag of cookies he was given with the espresso.

"It's weird that she wouldn't have taken the chance to ditch the group to be in the even fancier section." Sansa shrugged it off as the train pulled out of the station.

While the train went over the water that separated the islands and mainland Venice, he pulled out his trusty notebook, having every intention of writing down more ideas he'd been having for the storyline. But soon enough, he was completely distracted by the scenery the high speed train window showed them, especially when they reached the open Italian countryside. Sansa was just as much caught up in it, forgoing the book that she had placed on the table. He continuously found himself sneaking glimpses of her. Her small, serene smile was the same one Jon had noticed her wearing many times while she took in the surroundings of Venice. It had made him smile in endearment to see her so enraptured with the antiquity of the place. Especially when she couldn't help but reach out her dainty fingers to run them lightly along the vines-covered weathered walls.

The train ride took a little over two hours. The view alternated between beautiful open fields, lush vineyards, orchards, dark tunnels that cut through mountains, forests of trees, and towns with their quaint buildings and roads. From the region of Veneto, they passed through Emilia-Romagna and entered Tuscany. The picturesque rolling hills Tuscany was famous for were becoming more prevalent. Eventually, the train slowed as they approached the end of the line in Florence. Jon looked down at his open notebook. He had scribbled only a few lines of ideas. Well, that was productive, he sarcastically thought while slipping it back into his bag.

Once off the train, they were led to the front of the station. Three large, jet black Mercedes Benz vans were lined up, each driver in a sharp suit and standing at the open doors to usher them into the expensive-looking interior. He and Sansa sat themselves in the very back, letting other couples take the two rows before them. Pulling away from the station, their driver informed them that it would only be a twenty minute drive to the Villa San Michele.

"The pictures of this hotel look incredible," Sansa whispered near his ear. It gave him goosebumps.

They went through narrow streets, steadily climbing as they drove away from the city center. The driver pointed out NYU's Florence campus as they passed, the old villas holding the student dorms. On some of the tiny streets, walls that looked like they've been there for ages bordered the sides. They could see the beautiful, green Tuscan hillsides, tall trees mixed with villas. There was no shortage of olive trees along their route. Going past yet another grove of them, Sansa promised to herself that one day she'd have olive trees so she could always have fresh clippings in vases throughout her future house, bringing the memory of Italy back all the time.

Following the curvy bends up a hillside, the vans turned off the main road to continue on a windy path up to a stone column gateway that served as the entry to the hotel grounds. Hedges lined the dirt path, meticulously manicured gardens hemmed in the area. They took in the grand facade of the building, made of creamy neutral colors with archways lining the ground floor. The vans came to a stop in the rounded courtyard at the end of the driveway, just in front of the hotel's portico. Upon exiting, Jon held out his hand to assist Sansa in stepping out.

"Such a chivalrous lover," Ellaria breathed in her usual sultry way as she passed by.

How could something so normal catch anyone's eye? Jon wondered. Stop drawing attention to yourself. Of course, that wouldn't stop him from having basic manners though.

While on the train, Sansa had told him what she knew about this place - like how the Villa San Michele was located just outside Florence, in the wealthy suburb of Fiesole and that it was dated all the way back to the 15th century, once having been a Franciscan monastery. And now she was sharing more intel, leaning in as she instinctively took his hand in hers. "Supposedly Michelangelo designed the exterior," she noted. Jon glanced up at it right before they stepped through an archway, to the portico, and through the very old-looking wooden door being held open by a kindly looking doorman. "And this was the church," she added as they entered the lobby area. He looked around at the high vaulted ceilings, terracotta floor, crystal chandeliers, the (surprisingly) modern art displayed on the walls and original frescoes in the alcoves. It was more of an understated opulence, almost seemingly the opposite of the Gritti Palace.

The couples went to the front desk to each check in. When it was their turn, Sansa began to ask the woman a question in a quiet tone. "We were wondering if you had any -"

Jon looked over to her when she paused and noticed that she glanced toward Margaery and a few of the others standing close to them.

"Actually, nevermind. It should be under Sansa Stark," she continued. When they were finished and had the room key in hand, they stepped away. "I'm so sorry. I was about to ask if they had any rooms available with two queen beds instead of the one king. But then I realized how close the girls were and I just didn't want to give any of them reason to question our relationship."

Jon shrugged it off. "We've already survived a few nights. It's no worry." Sansa smiled in appreciation.

A hotel attendant, Giada, gathered the group together and led them through the lobby, informing them of the history of the villa and its features - its creation in the 15th century, it being turned into a Franciscan monastery, the 17th century chapel where the monks prayed, the Doric-style church, the former refectory that donned a Last Supper fresco dating back to 1642, holy water stoups from 1515. She pointed out where to find the restaurant and the bar, explained that some of the rooms were located here in the monastery section and some also built into the terraced hillside by the gardens. "And at the front of the villa, running the length of the facade, the Michelangelo Suite was once the Renaissance monastery's library as well as Napoleon's headquarters in Firenze." She showed them through a historic cloister with vines climbing up the columns that bordered the room and the brilliant sun shining through the skylight onto a plush seating area. The different rooms they walked through, with their antique furniture and rich fabric paired with lots of greenery and modern touches gave the feel of a quirky but elegant home. Exiting out the other end of the building, they stepped into an open garden of immaculate lawns intersected by pathways. Groups of chairs and lounges dotted the area so that guests could bask in the Tuscan sun and take in the spectacular view.

"I might cry," Sansa uttered, captivated by the sight of Florence laid out below them in the distance. Jon wouldn't blame her, it was breathtaking.

"And, of course, our famed view of the Arno Valley and Chianti hills," Giada added, motioning toward the expanse of skyline. "You can enjoy it from our pool, located at the topmost terrace." Along the hillside, a few terraced garden levels laid below them and a few above them. Jon could see a few swimwear-clad guests milling about the edge of the highest level. "That is also where our panoramic, state-of-the-art gym and wellness center are, if you're in the mood for a wonderful massage." After pointing out a few more interesting features around the grounds, like the vibrant 400 year old wisteria that covered the building's lawn-facing wall, she led them down a path to their rooms on the level just below. There sat a row of miniature gardens, each lined with hedges for privacy, each having a small patio table and chairs, a couple of lounges, and an umbrella. When they came to it, Giada gestured to the one that was his and Sansa's.

Thanking her for sharing the hotel's history, they slipped away from the remaining part of their group. "This is absolute perfection," Sansa stated as they entered the garden through a little gate to a terracotta path that led to the large glass door of their room. Jon could definitely see himself sitting out here in the morning with a coffee and that view of Florence. Stepping into the room, the burnt orange tile floor continued inside. The interior was much more simple than their room in Venice, but the understated luxury was definitely more fitting for what once was a monastery. Antique furniture mixed with crisp white linens, rich textiles, and vases with fresh cut orchids. The marbled bathroom had a much more modern touch.

"Heaven, absolutely heaven," Sansa stated while looking out at their little garden and the Tuscan scene beyond.

"A trip with that bunch is definitely worth hotels like this," Jon laughed. He found their luggage had already been brought up to the room and went to work unpacking a few things.

"Hi, dolls! Hope I'm not intruding on anything fun," Margaery said with a wink, her head popping into their open door. "I just wanted to let you know that the pool area requires a day pass, but no need to worry, our passes have already been bought, just in case anyone wants to go at some point during our stay here."

"That's awesome. What are your plans for the rest of the day?" Sansa asked.

"Gym and then we've booked a couple's massage, which should be very romantic! Ta-ta, lovelies," Margaery waved and headed back through their garden gate.

"How would you feel if we were just poolside today?" Sansa asked, turning to Jon.

"I don't mind one bit. I think we've earned a day of just relaxation."

"That's what I was thinking. I feel like we traipsed around the entirety of Venice ten times in the past few days."

After changing into their swimwear, they found the winding path that led up to the top terrace. A large pool sat up there, lounge chairs grouped in pairs were lined up in the grass, facing the beautiful skyline. Grabbing some pool towels, they claimed some empty chairs and set their stuff down. Sansa pulled off the dress she wore, revealing her bikini, in what Jon could have sworn was slow motion as it caught his eye. You've seen Sansa Stark in bikinis for ages, get a grip on yourself, his mind reminded him. It was true, he had seen her in bikinis ever since her mom allowed her to wear them. And sure, once they got into their teen years, he couldn't help but enjoy such a pretty girl wearing one, like all teen boys would. While he saw a bit less of her once the adult years came, he would still admire the view when the occasion called for swimming. But this was different. This was a whole new appreciation for a bikini-clad Sansa. Jon realized he was going to need to constantly remind himself all day long to not be a creep and stare.

"I'm gonna take a dip and test out the water," Sansa mentioned.

Jon kept sneaking glances as she walked away. Knock it the fuck off. He decided maybe he needed to cool off from the increasing heat and humidity. And his general thirst for Sansa. "How is it?" he asked as she popped her head out of the water after swimming a lap.

"The water is perfect. Everything about this place is perfect," she smiled dreamily.

Jon hopped in and found the pool to be very comfortably heated. Although, he may have needed colder water at that point. Dunking underwater was refreshing though and he swam the length and back.

Sansa was floating on her back, serenely looking up at the olive tree that was planted at the very edge of the pool. "Definitely going to have one of those in my future backyard."

"Maybe plant it right next to the pool to bring back the memory of this place?"

"Exactly."

This whole setting was absolutely splendid. He wouldn't mind a vivid reminder of it all. They were surrounded by the lush woodlands of the hillside the hotel's grounds were nestled into and the open expanse in front of them, all while they lazily swam in the warm waters of the pool. When they climbed out and sprawled themselves on the lounges, a pool bar server approached to take their order. After requesting the hotel's most popular signature drinks, they decided to forgo actual lunch dishes, and ordered quite a few antipasti to snack on instead. When it all arrived, they had dishes scattered about the small table between them and a few on their lounges. Sitting facing each other, they dug in to each of them - from fried arancini to bruschetta to salads and a few more in between, it was all delicious. As they nibbled on everything, they talked away, laughing and indulging the atmosphere. Jon couldn't help but smile at the growing ease between them. He was so grateful that his fear, that things would be so uncomfortable with her on this trip, didn't stop him from coming like it almost did.

By the time their plates were empty, the heat had ramped up a bit. "Shall we take another swim?" Sansa asked after she sipped the last dregs of her negroni.

"Absolutely."

On their way back to the pool, the telltale snobbish voice of Viserys came wafting toward them. "Well, you look sinfully hot, Ms. Stark."

They turned to find Viserys and Doreah setting their things down on two nearby chairs. Viserys' eyes were drinking in the length of Sansa. Doreah's glare was shooting daggers at her boyfriend. "Oh, uh, thanks, Viserys," Sansa uncomfortably stammered before diving into the pool. Jon gave his own glare to his ex's brother before joining her. She came closer and draped her arms around his shoulders, her stomach skimming against his under the water, going back into her obvious girlfriend mode. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"It's perfectly fine," Jon smiled. Maybe a little too fine, he thought, getting goosebumps that were definitely not caused by the heated water.

"It's just so weird. All these years, I never got that much attention from him, and I was perfectly good with that. In our friend group, I'd say we were closer to acquaintances than actual friends. I don't want to be mean, but I'd prefer to keep it that way."

"You're not mean. I believe you're very right in wanting that. Believe me, I know from experience." Jon whispered conspiratorially while his hands grasped her waist and he floated them further down the pool and away from prying ears.

"Yeah, I remember he was not a fan of his sister's relationship with you," Sansa said, giving a sympathetic cringe.

"He never saw me as 'good enough' for her and their family. Like she was slumming it with me or something. So he had an unceasing attitude around me and a permanent look on his face that told me I was scum to him."

"To be fair, he has that look almost all the time," Sansa giggled.

As they swam around, a few more of their group arrived, joining them in the water. While they conversed with some of them, including Viserys who was now totally ignoring Doreah, Sansa grabbed Jon's hand under the surface of the water and gave a squeeze. Taking the hint, he moved behind her, wrapping his arm around her chest and placing a kiss on her temple. In a quick glance, he could see Viserys' disgusted look return and it pleased him. "Should we head back to the room, babe? Shower and get ready for dinner?"

"Yes, definitely. Enjoy the rest of your day, guys!" Grabbing their belongings, they headed back down the winding path. "Thank you for reading my mind," she said, giving him a grateful smile. "I could feel him encroaching. And he gets this weird look in his eye that feels like he thinks he's entitled to everything. Bleh," she dramatically shuddered, making Jon laugh.

"Are we trying out the restaurant here tonight?" he asked.

"La Loggia? If that's okay with you, yeah. The menu looks divine. And it's got the view, of course."

After taking turns in the shower, Jon's being a little colder than he would normally have it, they got ready for the night. Sansa, having found the hotel robes, only needed to finish applying her makeup and get dressed.

"Meet me out on the main lawn when you've finished," Jon requested and slipped out of the room. He headed to the cloister bar and ordered an aperitivo. Reaching the lawn, he found an empty set of chairs and placed their aperol spritzes and little tray of snacks on the table just as Sansa walked up and joined him. She looked amazing in her summery dress, but that wasn't a surprise in the slightest.

"Okay, we're in the clear. I just checked the restaurant's dessert menu again and made sure there was gelato on it. We can't be skipping a day now," she laughed while taking a seat. "This is absolutely perfect," she said, taking a sip of her drink. "I think I'm using that word a little too much today."

"This place deserves it." Jon popped the most delicious, crisp and crunchy marinated green olive in his mouth.

"Have you sent your mom a picture of this view?"

"Ah, that's a good idea," he noted, pulling out his phone and taking a shot. "How about you get in there?"

"Me? Shouldn't it be you?" she giggled.

"You can make a picture look better more than I ever can," Jon said with a crooked smile. Sansa laughed but still got up and walked to the edge, lined with pretty potted flowers. Jon inwardly cringed at his corniness. She posed, naturally and casually, as he took a few more.

"Ugh. I wish Joff would take pictures of me like a good fiancé should."

How do these people keep sneaking up on me? Jon wondered as he turned to find Margaery approaching from behind.

"How was your massage?" Sansa asked, coming back to her chair.

"Oh, it was good. The romanticness of it got cut a little short," Margaery's voice trailed and she waved it off dismissively. "Anyway, I was just heading back to the room and saw you two looking so cute out here. You really must be in a picture together. Here, get up, stand over there," she directed, holding out a hand to take one of their phones. They assumed their couple's pose while Margaery snapped a few pictures. "Okay, lovelies, I'll leave you to your dreamy evening."

"How does she seem to always be around?" Sansa wondered once Margaery was out of ear-shot.

"It's uncanny, isn't it?" Jon laughed.

They sat back and watched as the sun kissed the horizon. Lights down in the city started to shine dimly. The warm breeze was scented with lemons from the potted trees that adorned the area. Sansa declared her love for that scent.

Once done with their drinks, they headed to the restaurant. La Loggia was elegantly rustic. There was a man playing the piano. The amazing view was framed in the large arches that closed in the long and narrow room. The sunset was in full force as they were sat at a table next to one of the arches. This has to be the most romantic dinner I've ever been to, he thought, glancing at his fake girlfriend who gave him a sweet smile.

As they shared the chef's tasting menu, sampling course after course of the seasonal Tuscan specialties paired with amazing wines, Sansa talked about her career. Jon realized he had never really asked her about it before. Sure, he knew she went to school for it, earned her masters, and became a speech-language pathologist for the Winterfell school district. But he had never talked to her about it before where she was so passionate about it, so much so that it enraptured him a bit. She showed such joy at being able to help "her little kiddos", as she described them. It made him regret all these years of just casual conversations at Stark family get-togethers.

After their dessert, which included gelato of course, they headed to the bar to try a few more of the mixologist's specialties. A few of their group were already there. Harry's face wore a similar look to Viserys' usual disgust when he saw them walk in. They jumped into the ongoing conversation and finished up their wonderfully relaxing day. Once back in their little garden, they took in the view again. The dark night had turned the city below into a sea of twinkling lights. Jon could hear Sansa happily sigh beside him.

In bed, his stomach contentedly full and his mind just starting to feel the subtle fuzziness from the drinks, Jon looked at his phone while Sansa readied for sleep. There was a new message from Robb. "Okay. So I know both you and Sansa vaguely explained to me this fake relationship situation before you guys left. Which - fine, I guess. But I didn't know it was going to look so….believable." A straight faced emoji ended the message.

Jon was proud that they could be such good enough actors, fooling everyone and even making the people who knew the truth question it even slightly. He also couldn't quite explain the happiness he felt at the thought of their relationship being so believable. Almost like we actually belong together? The thought was so faint in the alcohol-induced fuzziness that Jon didn't pay that much attention to it as he posted one of the pictures of Sansa and the view to his Instagram stories. He then messaged Robb back - "We're just really good actors."

"That picture is super cute. I'm stealing it," Sansa announced when she finished with her nighttime regimen and slid into her side of the bed. Setting her phone on the nightstand, she settled deeper under the covers. "Night, Jon," she warmly said.

"Night, Sans."