King Robert Baratheon was on his way to Winterfell and naturally everybody in the castle was excited about it.

Everybody but Lord Eddard and his wife, who could only wonder at the reason for this royal visit, right on the heels of the news that Ned's foster father Jon Arryn, who had also happened to be the king's Hand, had died.

Everybody was excited, but the heads of the serving staff who were now forced to ready the castle for not only the king and queen and their immediate family, but also the rest of their train – soldiers, courtiers and other followers that honestly had no business in Winterfell, but that would nonetheless attend the countless feasts and banquets that undoubtedly came along with such highborn folk.

Everybody but Robb Stark and Jon Snow, who found they had more than a hard time finding secluded, undisturbed places in the castle and its surrounding buildings to finally get the chance to talk to each other, and who really didn't need any more people swarming the place, as it had effectively prevented them from getting together even once after that rather fateful day up in Robb's room.

"The whole bloody castle's on edge with this royal visit," Robb complained as he slid the huge leather saddle off its hooks in the corner of the stable, walking over to the big, black mare he had chosen for their ride. "I think the only one who is honestly excited about it is Sansa."

"What's in it for Sansa, then?" Jon asked, mostly finished tying the straps of his saddlebags and moving on to needlessly adjusting the stirrups just to give himself something to do while Robb saddled his horse. He had been waiting for his half-brother to come to the stables for a good half hour, had even sat outside aimlessly in the warmth of an unusually bright sun, dodging puzzled questions from Jory as well as hateful stares from Theon. Robb had been kept occupied these days, he knew, what with the king's imminent arrival. There were a lot of things to do and arrange and Jon was certain their father had grabbed the opportunity to teach his eldest the ropes of dealing with royalty and every last effect that would have on life in Winterfell. Robb had said something to that effect on the few occasions he and Jon saw each other in passing or had a quick meal together, and it hadn't been just his father but also Lady Catelyn who kept telling Robb about manners and etiquette and the fact that Northern standards were not up to par with what the King and his entourage would be used to. Jon smiled inwardly: it had been exactly the wrong thing to say to his brother as Robb felt very comfortable upholding those dire Northern standards and wouldn't be running to change them anytime soon. The consequence of that attitude, of course, was sitting through even more tiresome talks from his mother and Jon remembered the smile that lit up Robb's face the moment he suggested going for a ride together.

"Joffrey Baratheon is what's in it for Sansa," Robb muttered, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his tunic, having discarded of his cloak the second he walked through the stable doors, an action that Jon had watched with interest. "That right royal prick."

"Do we know him?" Jon asked and huffed out a laugh at so much prejudice even though he had a nagging suspicion Robb's description of the prince didn't just root in a fair amount of big-brotherly protectiveness of his sister. He knew Robb always listened carefully when his father told him things about Westeros and its great Houses and families and their politics, and there had to be a measure of truth to his words for Robb to utter them just like that. He wasn't about to let it ruin their prospective afternoon together, though, and so he took his horse and led her outside, waiting for his brother there. It didn't take Robb long to finish saddling his horse, and when he was done with the straps and leathers he grabbed his cloak and made for the door.

As they mounted their horses, two direwolf pups came barrelling through the gates together, circling the horses' legs as if they knew an outing was in the cards and they didn't want to miss a thing. "Yes, yes," Robb laughed and leaned down to scratch Grey Wind's furry neck. "You can come too." Technically, the animals were still pups, but they had already gained in size so much that there were enough people in Winterfell who steered well clear of the beasts, muttering things about how mere mortals were unable to master the fabled animals of old and having them around was unnatural; words that were fervently ignored by Jon and Robb as they knew exactly how to handle their direwolves – their connections to the animals growing tighter with each passing day.

"Here we go then," Jon smiled and pushed his heels in, riding after Ghost and Grey Wind who effectively cleared a path through the many people milling around the courtyard, all of them busy with matters that undoubtedly somehow tied in with the King's visit. Robb lagged behind a little as the clasp on his cloak refused to snap tight and when he wheeled his horse about once more to go after Jon he saw Theon step out of the shadows of the Library Tower, the oddest of looks on his usually cocky, carefree face. He dipped his head, acknowledging the Ironborn, thinking back to the other strange stares Theon had given him ever since he'd fallen ill – some two or three weeks ago now – before trotting away towards the South Gate, trying to dismiss the thought.

Jon and the wolves were already on the western path to the Wolfswood when Robb caught up with them, his breath forming tiny little clouds, his cloak billowing until he ordered his horse back into a trot again. Outside the castle where the wind had free range it was much colder and Jon's cheeks were ruddy above the fur collar of his cloak.

"You took your time," Jon remarked, smiling, trying to locate the wolves. "The pups have gone from sight already."

"They won't stay away for too long," Robb calculated, bringing his horse next to Jon's, watching him closely. "Let's make for the clearing," he suggested, voice a little thick. "We need to talk." Jon turned his head to look at Robb and smiled. "Talk," he repeated and was certain they both remembered that incredible moment back in Robb's tower when he was still cooped up with illness and Lady Stark had thrown the door wide open right after they'd given in to that forbidden, secret desire. She had come up to bring Robb the news of the death of Jon Arryn and the King's consequent visit, and ever since that news had broken the castle had been in various states of uproar and chaos and neither of them had had a proper chance to talk about what had happened that day.

The clearing was hidden about two miles into the Wolfswood, and, as Robb had predicted, the wolf pups had returned to them before they would enter the forest. It didn't take them long to find the spot and soon they both tied their horses to an overhanging branch – even though their horses were much too well-trained to leave without the boys' permission – Jon unstrapping one of his saddle bags.

"What's in the bag?" Robb asked as he took his cloak off again, the warmth of the sun and the absence of the cold wind causing him to grow hot again.

"Sustenance," Jon teased and put the bag down by one of the fallen trunks that lined the clearing, sitting down on it.

"Stop," Robb said and held out his hand. "Don't sit down yet." Jon grabbed Robb's hand and allowed himself to be pulled up again, barely able to even think about asking why he couldn't sit down when Robb pushed their mouths together without preamble, all lips and tongue and slick, wet warmth. The groan that fell from Robb's mouth would have made Jon smile if his lips hadn't already been otherwise occupied and somehow he caught his hands tugging at the heavy leather of Robb's hauberk – well aware he wasn't going to take the thing off of Robb anytime soon, but pulling him as close as possible as he returned the kiss.

"Why…" Robb panted as they broke apart, "why did it take us two weeks to do this again?" He leaned in once again and felt his body catch fire as Jon slid his hands down between his legs, grazing him through the soft leather of his pants, adding a squeeze for good measure as they kissed once more.

"Royal visit," Jon moaned, bringing the hand back up to run it through Robb's tangled, windswept curls. "And probably because we're idiots."

"Careful idiots," Robb amended breathlessly before unclasping Jon's cloak, letting it drop to the mossy ground unceremoniously, pressing his lips to Jon's neck. Jon chuckled, holding Robb's head in place with both hands.

"If we were really careful we would have gone to the next clearing," he grinned, suddenly cut off by Robb's teeth on the shell of his ear, Robb's body hard and insistent under his wandering hands. Undressing the other would be the next move, would be what they both wanted, but there were summer snows threatening to fall despite the warmth once out of the wind, and beyond a few more clumsy gropes they didn't go.

As the initial urgency wore off they slowly broke apart, their hands still roaming the other's body in slow, careful motions; their faces still close enough to press soft, slowed-down kisses to the other's parted lips. Robb's cheeks were flushed and Jon realised all the more how they had never had a proper chance to talk about what had happened between them. Standing in the door opening, Robb had half-jokingly invited him to come and talk to him again, but the royal visit had thrown a major spanner in the works after that. He felt a warm glow spreading from inside, warming him from head to toe as understanding slowly dawned on him that Robb only wanted more of what they had done, that he wasn't embarrassed or even worse, disgusted, and that he had guessed right when he took that giant leap of faith up in Robb's tower when he pressed up against his back to slide his hand underneath Robb's loose tunic so he could touch him there and bring him off.

"This has been on my mind so much," Robb muttered, letting go of Jon's waist to take a step back and look him in the eye. There was much and more he wanted to say, things about how his parents had been going on and on at him now that all those important people were coming to Winterfell and how all he could see when he looked away was Jon Snow and his pitch black curls against the white of his shirt, his cheek on Robb's shoulder, breath hot in his neck, his hand working furiously to take him to places that had never looked and felt so beautiful before. He wanted to tell him that that moment had been so amazing that he wasn't so afraid anymore, that he could sleep again at night without being torn in opposite directions – the things he truly wanted and the things he was supposed to want – but the words just wouldn't come.

"Mine as well," Jon added, his thumb brushing Robb's cheek, and Robb decided that for now it had to suffice. Maybe at night, when they could do it again, when the sun wasn't so glaringly in their faces to show every last bit of doubt and insecurity, when they could cover up their lack of communication by blankets and furs to let their bodies do the talking, maybe then things would become more pronounced and more accepted and normal. For now the fact that they were both here, with this first clearing as the destination on both their minds, to simply do what they just did together so gloriously and without preamble and words to mark their intentions, had to be enough.

"What's in the bag?" Robb repeated his earlier question, a growl from his belly making Jon laugh and they stepped apart.

"I took some items from the kitchens," Jon replied as he sat down, reaching for the bag and opening the straps with clever fingers. "There's so much there right now anyway, they won't even know it's gone." He produced a loaf of freshly baked bread wrapped in a towel, some cheese and cold meat that still had bits of the herbs it had hung with attached to it. From the other bag Jon pulled a flagon of ale that they shared first, the sun still warm on their skin even though snow clearly threatened in the distant sky. Not to mention the other reasons why they needed to cool off.

The smell of the meat immediately caused the wolves to return and while Ghost positioned himself at Jon's feet, tearing a bit of the flesh he had been given apart with his razor sharp teeth, Grey Wind allowed one scratch of Robb's fingers behind his ears and a chuck of meat that he seemed to swallow whole before he was gone again, loping around the edge of the clearing, throwing the boys calculated, measured glances every now again.

"What's he doing?" Jon asked, using his dagger to divide the cheese, handing Robb a bit to go with the still warm bread.

"Keeping watch," Robb said without thinking and gave Jon a startled look as the words left his mouth. "I think," he added hastily, taking a firm bite before looking away, following Grey Wind's progress. Why he suddenly saw Theon's face again Robb didn't know, but Theon had been the cause of quite some of his worrying lately, and maybe he should share it with Jon. Now was as good a time as any.

"It's only the first clearing," he started, tearing off bits of cheese from the hunk Jon had given him, washing everything down with a firm swig from their shared bottle. "And no one can know about this." He swallowed and levelled Jon with a careful stare. "You do know this, don't you?"

Jon merely raised his eyebrows at Robb, trying not to show his exasperation.

"Sorry," Robb amended, staring at the mossy ground between his boots. "It's just that now I'm finally not scared any longer about you finding out how I feel about you," he looked up and found a soft smile on Jon's face, "and instead I worry about us being found out by others."

"That won't happen," Jon said, moving to sit astride the tree trunk, holding Robb's chin in his hand, turning his face so they could lock eyes. "Not if I can help it." He leaned in and kissed Robb again, but it was a tender kiss this time – not a hurried, clumsy, desperate one like the ones they had before. "We'll be careful – very careful."

"Theon suspects something," Robb said, reluctantly letting go of Jon, going back to his food, picking at his bread as he recalled Theon's face earlier that afternoon. "He's been following me around, I think, and he keeps giving me these odd stares."

"Odd as in he knows?" Jon asked, bringing up the flagon of ale, taking a swig, wiping his mouth with his sleeve – such a typical gesture for Jon that it almost made Robb laugh, were it not for the gravity of their conversation. "Or odd as in he knows there's something and he hates being kept in the dark?" Jon passed the flagon to Robb and watched his brother's mouth and throat work as he swallowed. "Because Greyjoy hates not being in the know."

Robb stared off into the distance, thinking, reaching for Grey Wind as the animal padded towards him again, having left the perimeter of the forest clearing. "I don't know," he settled on answering and shrugged a little, scratching Grey Wind's fur. "I'll keep an eye on him, though; he's always been far too observant."

Jon nodded and returned the empty flagon to the bag, the food all but polished off.

"Now," he said, finally broaching the subject. "About us…"

"Us…" Robb repeated hesitantly, wondering without saying it if there even existed such a thing as an us.

"There is something," Jon insisted, picking up on every last of Robb's insecurities. "The first thing we did after we got here and dismounted was kiss, there's no denying that." They looked at each other for few silent seconds and then they both broke into boyish grins, with Robb looking away as the familiar blush started to form and Jon staring at a fixed point near Ghost's paws – thinking of the few seconds at Robb's window when he felt his brother pulse out hot strands of come in the palm of his hand, his body pushed up insistently against Robb's back as his brother heaved in breath after breath, stifling his groans around his fist in the knowledge his mother was hurrying up the stairs. He thought of his own climax, of that secret moment he couldn't tell Robb about because he had to think of a way to seem normal once Lady Catelyn would open the door to Robb's bed chamber and just to think he was still throbbing and tingling as she stepped inside, giving him that look that he loathed so much…

"And I don't know about you," he went on, not expecting Robb to voice his thoughts as he was clearly still fighting that red hot flush down his neck, "but I haven't been able to stop thinking about when we can do it again. That thing, I mean."

"That thing where you made me look out the window, you mean," Robb cut in suddenly, something hot and fierce in his eyes – a cross between anger and arousal. "If my mother had come in two seconds earlier…" Jon grinned wolfishly at him and Robb had to smile. "I swear she could see my heart beating through that tunic," he muttered, bringing a hand up to catch one of Jon's messy, long curls between his fingertips, feeling its softness, twining it around his finger. He withdrew with a start, surprised by his own action, but Jon gave him one of those encouraging smiles again and he rested his hand on Jon's thigh instead of his own. "I ended up burning that tunic in the fire, you know," he went on, not looking at Jon. "It was covered in… well… me, essentially." Robb swallowed and the blush returned. "I don't think I've ever come harder in my life."

Jon took a deep breath. "The same goes for me."

Robb looked up but before he could open his mouth to ask a question or fill in the blanks himself, Jon explained what had happened to him right before Robb's mother entered the room and for a few seconds Robb could only stare at him.

"That's…" he began, but they had established it once again – they were not exactly good at talking about these things, and Robb faltered. "That's incredible," he ended up saying after a few seconds, lifting his eyes to look Jon in the eye. "And all that because…" he stopped again, lifted his hands from Jon's thigh to flap it between them, "because of you and me?"

"Well, mostly because of you," Jon answered, finally turning a pretty shade of pink himself. "I don't think I realised it until I started to catch all these mixed signals from you, but, well… you know…"

"No, I don't know," Robb couldn't help but counter. "Not much in this whole situation makes a lot of sense to me. All I know is that the only thing that feels remotely good is being with you. Talking to you."

"As if we're the best of talkers," Jon quipped and picked up Robb's hand absent-mindedly, waiting a little before he continued. "I meant that I came in my smallclothes because of you. Like I said, I never paid it much attention, but once I started to really follow you around, hoping to figure out what you were trying to tell me with those looks and glances you were sending my way, and then those – I don't know – almost hungry stares you shot me whenever I took my shirt off; I also began to see you in a different light. I thought about it at night when it's quiet and one actually gets a chance to think. I thought about you and about what could possibly have gotten into you and thinking about you bothered me, but in the good way, you know; the way that gets you to… well, to touch yourself…" He paused, searching Robb's face for traces of discomfort, but if anything Robb looked flustered and clearly aroused by the words. "That's when I put two and two together," Jon went on, "and that's why I deliberately took my shirt off that day in the practice yard when I knew you'd gone up in your father's tower."

Robb's eyes went wide in astonishment. "You knew?"

"I guessed," Jon amended, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Robb's lips, chasing the frown off his face. "I didn't know for certain until I came to visit you that first time when you were ill and I took my shirt off for you again."

Robb didn't quite know where to look. What he really wanted was to allow his hands to grasp Jon and pull him close and kiss that impossible mouth again, but he stayed put and tried to think. It was difficult to remember, though, as he'd been so ill at the time and then his mother came with the news of King Robert's arrival and everything went blurry for different reasons.

"I want for us to do it again, though," Jon said quietly, a little uncertain suddenly of Robb's feelings. "I want to stay with you again, spend time up in your tower, or you can come to my rooms, or any place else and–" Robb cut him off by kissing him fully on the lips this time, having heard enough. He groaned when Jon started to return the kiss, cupping one hand around the back of Robb's head, his other hand sliding down to where he wanted it the most.

"Stop, stop," he panted and broke away, unable to believe he was actually capable of stopping them. "Don't. We'll never be able to go through with it – it's too cold, and getting all these clothes off would take up so much time and I'm supposed to be back in the castle soon, and–"

Jon pressed a rough finger against his lips, shushing him, looking him in the eyes.

"Stop fretting," he whispered and kissed Robb's mouth quickly. "You're right; I'd want you to do things to me that we cannot do here and I think the sun's already started to set. We'll saddle up and you can go reassure your Lady Mother." Robb grimaced at those last words, but Jon just kissed his lips once more and they stood clasped together for a while, their breaths being exhaled in tiny puffs of white across the other's shoulder as the sun was dipping below the highest trees and the cold steadily crept in.

"We'll go back now," Jon whispered, running a soft finger along Robb's stubbled cheek. "And tonight I'll stop by your room."