Chapter 8 - Positano - Day 7

A light floral scent filled Jon's nose as he stirred awake. Reclaiming awareness from sleep, he slowly opened his eyes and found a sleeping Sansa pressed to his chest. Her body curled into him as they lay facing each other. Jon's arm was draped over her, his hand pressed to her back. Her head was nestled just below his chin, shampooed hair giving off that delightful scent.

Jon didn't dare move, unwilling to break this moment. Her soft breath gracing his collarbone brought a dreamy smile to his face. He pressed his hand a little firmer on her back, holding her a touch tighter. The minuscule act might have been too much though.

A gentle, sleepy moan escaped her lips as she shifted slightly. It was followed by a little gasp when she realized their position. She tilted her head up and saw Jon smile. He resisted the urge to slide his hand into her silky hair to angle her face for a kiss. Stop it. You're taking advantage of the situation, he reprimanded himself.

"The air conditioning is really cold in here, I'm sorry," Sansa whispered with a shy smile. Notably, she didn't move to put distance between them. Neither did he. It also wasn't that chilly in their room.

"No worries," he whispered back, giving her (what he hoped to be) a welcoming smile. "So today's the fancy day?" he asked.

"Fancy day?" Sansa laughed. "Yes, today consists of a private jet to a helicopter to a yacht."

"If that's not fancy, I don't know what is."

"We're gonna be stuck with everyone on a boat overnight. Do you think we'll survive?"

"There'll be alcohol, right?"

"Of course."

"We'll make do," Jon smiled.

Sansa's alarm started to go off, looking annoyed at the sound of it. "Ugh, need to pack up and get ready." He reluctantly lifted his arm off her and she rolled over to reach her phone to turn it off.

Watching her head toward the shower, Jon thought about how he didn't much care that he had to be around everyone else, as long as Sansa was there. Whatever drama or better-than-you attitude they brought, it didn't matter, he'd let it all roll off his back. If more stupid surprises showed up, he wouldn't let it interfere. It was all worth it to keep discovering whatever was going on between them. Which is completely one-sided on your part, you idiot. There's nothing to explore. You're playing a role as a favor for her. That's it, he told himself. Whatever it was, he was going to enjoy it while it lasted during this trip.

Once packed and ready, the group was shuttled to the airport where a private jet waited for them. Glancing toward Sansa, Jon caught the apprehensive look on her face at the small size of the plane.

"It's gonna be okay," he whispered, squeezing her hand.

"Oh right, you two wouldn't be frequent users of this type of travel, would you?" Joffrey snidely remarked when he saw their exchange. Jon decided that his little weasel-like smile just might be one of the most annoying things in the world. "It's a little more luxurious and exclusive than you're used to. Don't worry, Sansa, it's perfectly safe." Viserys walked by with an equally annoying smirk as he climbed the steps to the jet's door.

"Need a Xanax?" Margaery offered, patting her bag.

"No. No, I'm fine," Sansa stated.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to bring attention to it," Jon smiled apologetically.

Sansa shrugged it off and led him by the hand. "Come on, it's time for us peasants to board," she laughed.

The interior was definitely luxurious. Settling into a couple of empty seats across a table from Varys and Illyrio, they got an earful about their previous trip to the Amalfi Coast. They were finally winding down their story about Ravello as the jet touched down in Naples, just under an hour after take off.

"I've been meaning to thank you for being so comforting on planes. Holding my hand and soothingly telling me it's gonna be okay. It truly does help," Sansa quietly mentioned as they disembarked.

Her smile was so sweet, Jon almost didn't realize he hadn't said anything in return. "Of course. I don't mind doing it, love." He had noticed how her eyes brightened when he called her that yesterday. That brightness returned just now and he loved it.

Once they were off the plane, they saw a couple of helicopters sitting beside it. "I'm gonna need more of that comforting in just a minute," Sansa laughed as the blades of one of the helicopters started to slowly whirl to life.

"Okay, lovelies. We're gonna take our turns on the helicopters to be brought over to the yacht." Margaery announced to the group. She then turned to Sansa. "I'm gonna guess you want to get this ride over as soon as possible, instead of waiting for your turn and lingering on the thought of it? You guys can come on the first ride with me and Joff." She grabbed Sansa's other hand and dragged her along before Sansa could offer an answer.

Settling in and buckling up into the helicopter seats, Jon instinctively took Sansa's hand and she squeezed it tight. For the short 15 minute flight, Jon gently circled his thumb on her gripping hand as he looked out at the beautiful coastal scenery. Joffrey stayed glued to his phone screen, somehow looking bored, and Margaery talked enough for the four of them. Soon, they were approaching the biggest personal yacht Jon had ever seen. The helicopter landed on the helipad at the top of the boat and Jon could feel Sansa finally relax.

"Isn't Tywin's yacht gorgeous?" Margaery exclaimed as they got out. "I'll show you to the best room. Well, second best," she smiled. As the helicopter lifted off to pick up another group from the Naples airport, the second helicopter was coming in for landing. "Hurry, you need to claim it before the next group comes in!"

"There's a fucking swimming pool on here, in the middle of the ocean," Jon mumbled as Margaery led them down to another level.

"It's a floating mansion," Sansa laughed.

"Here we are, the second best room," Margery said, pointing to a doorway in a long hallway. "Put your stuff down and I'll direct your luggage there when it arrives. Our room is just right there at the end of the hall, if you need anything. In the meantime, feel free to explore the yacht. Or you can take a little day trip into Positano. Find Mauricio down in the tender garage and he'll ferry you out to the mainland. Just be back for dinner!"

Once Margaery left them in their room, Sansa gave him a knowing grin.

"Take one last escape before we get locked down on here?" Jon guessed.

"Exactly. Come on, before more people arrive and possibly decide to tag along."

They roamed around the boat, eventually figuring out how to get down to the tender where they met Mauricio. The very good looking deckhand was quite welcoming toward Sansa, flashing her a brilliant, flirtatious smile directed to her and her alone. Maybe a little too welcoming, Jon thought. Jon stepped into the small, sleek boat and turned, expecting to take Sansa's hand to help her in. But Mauricio was already doing just that. And while Jon knew the man was just doing his job, something stirred within him at missing the opportunity to touch her without the pretense of faking a relationship in front of her friends. But, as they pulled away from they yacht, Sansa placed a hand on his thigh and guided his attention toward another spectacular yacht nearby. Jon couldn't help but smile when she left her hand there for the ride into town.

Sansa oohed and ahhed at the view of the colorful villas, perched and stacked on the tall cliffsides that overlooked the coast, and the umbrella covered beach. She twisted her body and positioned Jon so that they could take a selfie with the beautiful scene in the background.

Once docked, they wandered up the pebble-covered, crowded beach and into the equally crowded town. Packed restaurants lined the main seaside street. Pastel colors were everywhere you looked. Jon smiled at Sansa as she took it all in. "It's so fucking pretty."

"You belong here," Jon said, at first not realizing he said it out loud until her attention turned to him with that blinding smile. "Hungry?" he shot out to distract.

"Definitely. Let's find the place Mauricio told us about." She held out her hand for him to take and then she guided them up a side street. Eventually they found their way to the hotel restaurant a little higher up the mountainside and were seated outside at a table with the grandest view of the coast.

As Sansa sipped her Aperol spritz, she had the most delightful smile. "Happy?" Jon asked.

"Very. You?"

"Very," he grinned back. How could he not be? Sure, yesterday's lunch with Daenerys was a disaster, but it really did feel like closure. She had proved to him yet again who she really is and showed him exactly what he didn't want. He wanted to opposite of Daenerys. The opposite was Sansa. And here she was before him, looking beautiful and serene. He has had her lips pressed against his. Her body against him in bed. Her sparkling eyes on him. And all the time in the world with her. For now. Until reality slaps him upside the head when this trip ended.

"Good," she replied.

After lunch, they passed by a scooter rental place. Sansa gave him a look. "Let's do it," he smiled. How could I turn anything down for her? he thought. They both had gotten their international driving permits based on Margaery's suggestion, but they decided on renting just one scooter. Which Jon was perfectly fine with since that meant Sansa would be holding onto him tight as he drove them.

They puttered along through the small, tourist filled streets, stopping here and there for their daily gelato, shops Sansa spotted, and to take in the views from scenic points. Jon could feel Sansa giggle against his back whenever he was able to pick up a little speed. Her arms were wrapped around his waist, her hands on his abs, tingles beneath his skin under her splayed fingers. This is a great day, he thought.

Winding their way up the steep one-way path, they reached a main road to bring them to the other side of the town. Up here, there were more uninterrupted views of the ocean below them. Jon could feel her sigh against his back then lean her cheek against it. "This feels like a movie," he heard her say against the noise of passing cars.

Hopefully one with a happy ending, he thought.

By the time they were stepping onto Mauricio's awaiting tender, the sun just beginning to set. They sat facing Positano and watched the distance grow between their peaceful day and whatever was happening on the boat tonight. Sansa placed her head on his shoulder and sighed happily again. Jon chanced placing his hand on her leg, just on her knee so as to not get too creepy. She didn't shy from it, but placed her hand on top of his. They spent the boat ride in comfortable silence.

That silence was ended as they disembarked from the tender and could already hear the voices of their group, loud and boisterous. Once reaching the deck everyone was on, Margaery came flitting up and asked all about their day before announcing it was time for dinner on the main deck above them.

Dinner went surprisingly smoothly. Margaery had brought on some well-known chef from Positano to cook local dishes for them and it was all so good. The wine that was paired with the dishes was amazing as well. No snide comments were directed his way and he didn't bother to look for any equally snide looks. Sansa's hand was resting on his thigh throughout most of dinner and nothing was going to bring him down from that little high he got from it. You've got it bad, he told himself.

After dinner, he and Sansa stood at the railing, admiring the lights ("magical," as she had described them) that climbed up the cliffs hemming in the small seaside town in the dark, when Margaery spoke up. "Alrighty, my lovelies, it's time to have some late-night fun! If you would each go back to your rooms, you'll find a little gift that goes along with what I have planned for us," she smirked cryptically. "And then come on back here to the main deck for the festivities!"

Jon and Sansa found their bed covered in neatly laid out costumes and accessories. She picked up the hand written card set on top of a glimmering white dress. "'For the desirous and beautiful Sansa - Venus, the Roman goddess of love,'" she read. "Margaery ended it with 'of course,' in parentheses," she laughed.

"'For the stoic and courageous Jon - Mars, the Roman god of war.' Wow, she really went all out on this," he said, pawing through all the details of his ensemble. This was no ordinary, cheap and cheesy Halloween costume. There was effort put into the making of it.

"This is freaking gorgeous," Sansa said, excitedly taking hers to the bathroom while Jon dressed in the room. After undressing, he slipped the white tunic on, feeling a little strange with not wearing any bottoms besides underwear. The edges of the sleeves and the hem hitting his thighs bore golden embroidery depicting swords, shields, and spears. He threw the blood-red cape over his back, the fabric draping across his chest. "Is it okay to come out now?" she asked a few minutes later.

"Yeah," Jon answered. "I think I need your help with these pin things that go on my shoulders."

When she stepped into the room, Jon's mind went absolutely blank. For that moment, all there was in his world was Sansa. The fabric flowed down her length to the floor, delicately clinging to her form. It crisscrossed over her stomach, leaving the curves at her sides bare. A gold metal belt with a rose clasp rested on her hips. And a slit along each of her legs reached nearly all the way up to the belt.

"Wow," Jon breathed, unable to tear his eyes from her.

She smiled in appreciation as she slipped cuffs made of golden roses above her elbows. "Needed help?"

"Oh, yeah, here," Jon grunted, regaining his thoughts and handing her the shield-shaped pins that would hold the cape in place. She attached them to each shoulder, her gentle fingers grazing his skin and he had to remind himself to breathe. He then busied himself with attaching the leather armored belt skirt around his waist as he pretended to not watch her wrap the long straps of her gladiator sandals up her calves.

"And now the final touches. This halo crown is fucking fantastic," she stated, gracing her wavy hair with the crown made of golden rays, more metal roses decorating it. She took Jon's laurel wreath from the bed and placed in on his head, their faces so close as she centered it. "There. My handsome god," she said with a smile when she finished. Jon noted a bit of flirtation behind it. "Shall we?"

Jon would have preferred to stay in their room and keep her all to himself, but that wasn't an option, so he nodded in agreement. Handing him his prop spear, she took his free hand and they found their way back to the main deck.

It was now devoid of the long dinner table and chairs. Short Roman columns were placed around the area. Marble busts of deities sat atop some of them while others had great urns holding huge white flower arrangements. White and gold fabrics were draped here and there, as well as garlands of greenery. Even the two bartenders were wearing toga costumes.

"Welcome to the Pantheon," Margaery greeted them, her own goddess dress and headpiece adorned with peacock feathers.

"Margaery, this is amazing. And the costumes are beyond beautiful," Sansa raved. "And, let me guess. You're Juno?" she asked, gingerly toying with a feather that hung from her crown.

"Queen of the gods," Margaery smiled proudly then gestured toward Joffrey at the bar. "And of course Joffrey is Jupiter, king of the gods."

"Nice touch with making Sansa Venus," Jon remarked, unable to resist the temptation to put his arm around her, his hand landing on the bare skin of her waist. He could feel Sansa lean into his side.

"Oh, that was the easiest decision," Margaery purred. "And how could I not pair her with Venus' lover Mars?"

"This is great, Margaery" Jon conceded, looking around at the scene and the couples, depicting different Roman deities, that had begun to arrive.

"Thank you, Jon," she said, dramatically placing her hand on her heart in gratitude. "Okay, go enjoy the party. There are tons of sweet delicacies. And don't forget to try the signature cocktails!" With that, she flittered away to greet another couple.

At the bar, Sansa picked the shimmering golden Ambrosia cocktail while Jon chose the deep red, pomegranate flavored concoction named Underworld. "Oh these are downright dangerous," she stated after taking a sip of both of them.

As the night wore on, the bartenders were kept busy and Jon found himself actually having a good time in the company of this group of friends. He was tipsy enough (and distracted by Sansa) that he truly didn't care if anyone was leveling insults or sneers in his direction. While talking to Daario about his military experience, Jon's eyes were consistently drawn to Sansa dancing with a few of the girls to hit songs from their high school years. The cocktails had brought out a dreamy smile on her face as her body moved expertly to the beat. As if his own drinks weren't intoxicating enough for him.

He was watching her hips sway when he realized she caught him ogling her. A mischievous look in her eye appeared before she came to him. "Come dance with me." It wasn't a question, but more like a strong suggestion as she took him by the hand and pulled herself into his chest, her arms wrapping around his neck.

"You're drunk," Jon quietly teased, his hands coming to a rest on the warm bare skin of her waist. His voice deeper, the low rumble seeming to make Sansa's eyebrow hitch in interest.

"Tipsy," Sansa corrected. "You know the graceful version of Sansa disappears when the drunk level has been reached. Remember that one New Year's Eve where I resembled a newborn colt standing for the first time?"

"Oh yeah, drunk Sansa," Jon laughed, thinking back on the memory.

"Hush your mouth and just dance with me," she purred in his ear. Her body moved against him, languidly and exquisitely. Watching her dance was intoxicating, but this — the friction building between the flimsy material of their costumes — was on another level. "Love this song," she muttered, leaving an arm draped over his shoulder and pulled back a little, leaving her thigh slotted between his legs, his own thigh pressed between hers. Grinding on him as she sang the lyrics to some hit song from over ten years ago, her eyes were hooded and locked on him, her lips curled into a mysterious and sultry smile.

Jon knew they had an audience and he was the one who had suggested they level up their PDA (both to assure Sansa they wouldn't be found out, and also for his own selfish reasons). Without tearing his eyes from her, he could sense some of the other girls and some couples dancing near them, their looks flitting toward Jon and Sansa. And this certainly wasn't something Jon would normally do. But he did not care. Nothing, including his own introverted shyness, would keep him from being this close to Sansa. Nothing would keep him from the chance to receive the look she was giving him, even if it was just for show in front of her friends. You're getting yourself into trouble, the stupidly practical part of his brain reminded him. This is fake. This. Is. Fake. Jon pushed the thought from his head when he saw Sansa's glance undeniably land on his lips. He swore he could feel her heavy breath release. He licked his lips. She bit hers in response. Jon didn't know who moved first — maybe they both did at the same time — all he knew was that they had met in a hungry kiss. He took in the honeyed taste of the Ambrosia drink on her lips.

"Mmmm," Sansa pleasantly hummed, he could feel it against his mouth. It unlocked something in him, something that felt untamed and greedy. His hands grazed down her sides, sliding past the cold metal belt, and gripped her hips to pull her imperceptibly closer than they already were. The slits of her dress ended there and the tips of Jon's fingers slid just under the hem to reach her smooth skin. Sansa gave a gentle nip to his bottom lip before her kisses grew beyond eager and her own fingers entwined in his hair, her nails just grazing his scalp and he nearly blacked out in pleasure. They were making out like teenagers, quite matching the era of music that had been playing. Jon could only faintly remind himself that there wouldn't be much hiding an erection in his current attire.

Suddenly he could feel heavy stomps on the deck. A cry of "Harry!" sounded. Sansa and Jon were pulled out of their lustful reverie to see a retreating Harry stomping his way down to his room and a concerned Saffron hurrying after him.

"Don't worry about them. Harry's just being super dramatic when he spotted you two," Margaery informed them as she continued to dance. "Don't let it ruin your sexy night, lovebirds," she winked.

Jon could have killed Hardyng right then.

It seemed like neither of them knew what to do in the moment. "Wanna get one more drink?" Sansa asked Jon with a shy smile. They extracted themselves from their embrace and went to the bar.

"You okay?" Jon asked as the bartender made their drinks.

"Definitely. Fuck him," she defiantly stated, leaning into Jon, her hand slipping to the back of his neck, nails teasing against his flesh again. Jon wrapped an arm around her waist and held her in place flush against him. They didn't even notice when the bartender put their drinks in front of where they stood. "I can't believe I've gotten you to dance twice so far on this trip. You've got some moves, Snow."

"I may be filled with surprises. You'll just have to find out, Stark."

That mischievous sparkle was back in her eyes. "Maybe so."

"We're getting in the jacuzzi, Sansa, come on!" Ellaria suddenly announced, appearing right beside them, grabbing Sansa's arm and dragging her away.

"I've been told their high school party nights always ended up in jacuzzis," Oberyn, Ellaria's boyfriend, mentioned as he sidled up at the bar.

Jon watched as most of the girls ran to the far end of the deck and hopped into the water in their costumes. A wide range of colorful, flowy fabrics skimmed along the surface. He loved watching the joy on Sansa's face.

"Your Sansa is beautiful. You're a lucky man, the way she looks at you," Oberyn added. Jon couldn't hide the skeptical look on his face and Oberyn caught it. "Of course, when you look at each other, there is affection and fire. But it's when you're not looking. She sneaks glances at you that show so much more. Trust me. Ellaria has seen it too. You two will go a long way."

Jon's mind was moving too fast now. He didn't even know how to respond. "Thank you," he said, unsure while he thought on Oberyn's words. The man clapped a hand on Jon's shoulder, grabbed his freshly made cocktail, and walked away.

The rational side of his mind told him she's just doing it for the audience. And, see, it's working if other people are noticing it. But then there was the wishful thinking side. The side whose hope was growing each moment of each day he spent with Sansa. The side he tried to shove down because reality would be coming in just over a week. But maybe this isn't so fake for her either? There it was, rearing up its stupid hopefulness in his mind.

The girls whispered and giggled, splashed around, and wildly sang to the songs of their youth. Jon felt a slight urgency to tear his eyes away from Sansa, to try to keep from falling into a bigger hole. But the utter need to see her — drink her in, watch the way she tilted her head back and laughed, see her eyes fall on him every now and then and give him his own personal smile — was much more prominent.

"Oh my God, I forgot about this song! This is the song we did a dance to in the 7th grade talent show!" Margaery shouted and suddenly launched out of the water, the rest of the ladies following her to their make-shift dance area by the bar.

Except Sansa. She stayed in the jacuzzi. She caught Jon's eye, pointed at him, and beckoned him with her finger. He needed no other encouragement.

"Come join me," she said when he reached her. Only her head was above water, her long limbs flowed gracefully underneath.

"Wouldn't this ruin the costume?" he asked, placing her unfinished drink on the ledge next to her.

"Margaery doesn't care. Or, you can take it off and give everyone a show?" she suggested, her eyebrows peaking up while she downed a good portion of the Ambrosia.

Jon decided against the public stripping and stepped into the water in full costume. He couldn't help but notice the possible pout on Sansa's mouth. "It looked like you guys were having fun in here," Jon mentioned, settling onto one of the seats across from her.

"It actually was. This night has been a bit of a nostalgia kick. The old songs, old reminisced memories and jokes. Ending up fully clothed in a jacuzzi. It reminded me of happier times with them."

"Good," he smiled at her. "I know things haven't been great with them, so I'm glad you can remember why you were friends in the first place."

"Yeah." She looked at him with something more serious in her eyes and finished her drink. "I'm really sorry for not sticking up for you during those years though. I should have. You didn't deserve their unreasonable bitterness and I should have said something."

"You've already apologized for that, Sans," he smiled reassuringly at her. "We're good. We're more than good."

"I know. But I sometimes still kick myself in the ass for it. I regret a lot of things and a lot of it has to do with not being closer to you."

"Me too, believe me. But we're closer now. That's what matters."

Sansa's eyes looked above him, somewhere in the direction of her friends dancing and drinking. Then her eyes slid back down to him, playful and bright. In a swift moment, she stood up, half of her body out of the water, skin and fabric dripping. Fabric that stuck to her body like it was painted on. Thin, white fabric that had become a little translucent. Jon's breath was stolen from him as he fought to keep his eyes from staring at her breasts. Then, suddenly, she was on him, straddling his lap but still just barely hovering above it. Her fingers tangled in his hair again. "Now we're closer."

Jon didn't care that this must be for their audience. He'd take whatever she wanted to give him, real or not. He reached up and claimed her lips with his. Sansa fully dropped down into his lap, the weight of her was delicious on top of him. The skirts of her dress still floated toward the surface, so when Jon's hands went to grasp her hips, it landed on skin and the delicate straps of her thong. It made him grunt against her mouth, his grip pulling her harder down on him. It earned a moan from Sansa.

Jon didn't know how he was going to stay in control of his senses when they were completely filled with her. Where is this going? You should stop. Control yourself. Don't take advantage of the situation. What if this gets carried away — are you really going to have sex in front of these people? Those rational thoughts were being quieted by the feral side that was starting to consume him. He willed his tongue to stop wrestling with hers, tasting the remnants of alcohol in her mouth, but it was only so his lips could travel to her neck. She strained her neck up so he had better access to it as he planted kisses, licks, and a nibble or two along that delicate skin. Her labored breathing becoming heavier, her chest arched against him. He could feel her pebbled nipples through the thin fabrics they wore. He wished he could rip it all off and just feel her against him with no hinderance. People are watching you! his mind nearly shouted at him just as he was about to do something about her dress.

And then came the exquisite feel of Sansa grinding against him. Her moan that accompanied it. It all very nearly took him out. He knew she could feel his hard length against her. He took one second to pull his mouth away from her sweet skin so he could look at her. Her eyes were closed and lips just parted, the absolute look of pleasure written all over her face. That golden crown of rays was still on her head, making her look like a goddess on top of him. Just as he was about to rock into her, guide her hips on top of him to give her the friction she seemed to seek, it all got ruined.

"Oh, look!" Joffrey's arrogant voice shouted from the distance. "Sansa loves getting fucked in the spa still!"

Their movements completely seized. Sansa's sharp intake of breath led to her climbing off his lap, her face looking frozen and mortified.

"Ow! Margaery!" Joffrey exclaimed.

But Jon drowned out whatever was going on over there. "Sansa. Are you okay?" he asked, reaching for her but she glided away to the steps.

"Yeah. I just need another drink." She stalked toward the bar, absentmindedly grabbing a towel that Margaery meekly offered her.

After trying to rearrange the sign of his arousal, Jon got out of the water, ready to punch that Baratheon in his smug, laughing face. Not for ruining the moment like Harry, but for having the audacity to cause that look on Sansa's face.

"I'm sorry," Margaery said, coming over with a towel, her face wincing when she saw Jon's murderous look. "I know, he can be an asshole."

"Why would you want to marry him?" Jon rhetorically asked, wrapping the towel around him, and walking to Sansa.

She was in the middle of downing a shot when he reached her. "One more, please," she asked the bartender.

"A third? Okay," she said, giving Sansa a dubious glance before pouring more into her shot glass.

"Sansa."

She ignored him to take the shot.

"Sansa. Please. Look at me?" Jon tried again.

She set the glass down and turned to him, but still refused to look at him.

"Look at me." It wasn't so much a question now, but it got her to train her eyes on him. "What's wrong?"

"It's embarrassing, Jon."

"Who the fuck cares what that idiot has to say?"

Sansa offered a bitter laugh and gestured to the people around them. Then gestured toward Jon.

"Me? Sansa. You know damn well I don't give a fuck what any of these people have to say about you. Unless it's good. Because I know the good stuff is true." That earned the tiniest smile from her. And he didn't stop himself from giving her a gentle kiss.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

"Now, your eyes are starting to look a little unfocused. It might have been those three shots you just took in a minute," he laughed. "Should we put some food in your belly? I see there are still desserts over there."

"Dessert sounds good."

After slowly eating a delicious treat called a lemon delight and making sure she drank only water, Jon suggested they go to bed. Sansa nodded her head, sleepily and drunkenly, in agreement. She stumbled a bit as they made their way, but Jon's arm was wrapped strongly around her waist.

Once in their room, Sansa insisted she could get herself ready for bed. He watched her warily as she stood at the sink and washed her face, ready to zoom over there at the first sign of unsteadiness and falling. When she was done brushing her teeth, she shut the bathroom door to change. While listening intently for any commotion in there, Jon took the opportunity to slip on new, dry boxer briefs and his pajamas. He had just finished pulling on the pants and was reaching for the shirt when Sansa came out of the bathroom, wearing just the top half of her pajamas and pink underwear. Jon froze for a second, hoping she wouldn't notice in her alcohol weary state.

"You don't need to wear those, you know. I know it's probably really uncomfortable to sleep in them," she said as she walked by, gesturing to the pants he was wearing and the shirt in his hands. She slid into bed, turned her back to him, and wrapped herself in the covers, leaving Jon just blinking at her.

Okay, he thought. I guess I'll go with that. He slipped out of the pants and threw both them and the shirt on top of his luggage.

Almost forgetting, he grabbed an ibuprofen from his toiletry bag and a bottle of water. "Here, take this before you fall asleep. Hopefully it'll help with the possible headache in the morning," he said, coming to her side of the bed. He saw the obviously pleased look on her face when she saw him wearing only his underwear.

"Thanks, Jon," she said innocently, the tone didn't match that look. That look was tempting him. But she was well drunk and Jon wasn't going to take advantage of that.

He came back around to his side and got in. Her body shimmied back toward him until they were touching. Forcing himself to not overthink it, he turned on his side facing her, wrapped his arm around her waist, and pulled her back against him.

"Mmmm," Sansa gently moaned, wiggling her backside further into him. Jon let out a hot breath against her hair.

"Good night, Sansa," he whispered, willing himself into control.

"Night, Jon," she sleepily whispered back.