I'll write a sequel of this, on Arya's POV this time, but I don't know when so bare with me :) She said almost two years ago. It's finally here though and you know what they say: better late than never.

So, yeah, do enjoy. Please.

Now.

The day, though cold when they got there, is slowly growing warmer. The sun still hides under the heavy clouds but there's this breeze that seems to carry the sunlight through the air and soon Arya loses the jacket, choosing to leave it inside the car.

They're no longer standing on the sidewalk of the waterfront that guards all the shore, watching the angry sea. They drove off south with the windows down, away from the high cliffs and closer to the beach. Arya's hair is a mess because of the wind, she couldn't care less.

They parked as close as they could to the sand and the sea seems calmer here with no rocks to clash against. It lazily rolls towards the sun in a gentle murmur that has Arya closing her eyes peacefully. The breeze doesn't carry as much water as it did up there at the cliffs, close to the historic castle, but the heat still feels humid, thick. It feels as if winter is starting late this year, even when White Harbor had been lying under a mantle of snow that same morning, for Seagard carries the dying summer with the parting spirit of spring.

Winter yet is nowhere to be seen and even though Arya has missed the cold with every fiber in her body, Braavos has made her enjoy a warm weather more than she would admit. She sits on the hood of the rented car and Jon is lying right beside her. Both his hands are behind his head and she thinks he's watching the sea.

Turns out, he's staring at her.

She arches an eyebrow in silent question when she notices where his eyes lay and Jon smiles wickedly, carrying a secret. She has to ask.

"What's going on in that mind of yours?"

He seems to be digesting an idea and she waits in silence for the reveal. "Is not that cold anymore."

An obvious statement is not what she's expecting. With a fond shake of her head, Arya laughs softly. Jon seems to draw pleasure from the sound.

"I noticed."

"And we haven't had lunch yet."

"No, we haven't."

"And the beach looks lovely today."

"Yeah, I must agree with that."

He sits up, looking excited, and Arya draws closer to him, mimicking his actions without even meaning to. He cradles her face with one hand, looking at her fondly, and Arya can see that glint in his eyes. The one he had when he was about to kiss her before her brothers could sneak up on them, the one he had back at the Vale when the snow locked them inside that little cabin near Longbow Hall and there was nothing but each other and a bottle of local whisky to keep them warm, the one he had as he drove through the tunnel from Queensgate to Castle Black.

She loves that glint and she waits with fragile breath to hear what will come out of his mouth.

"Go out on a date with me."

Her smile starts slow, as if every muscle in her face is slowly processing what he has said, and she loves this romantic fool. "Oh?"

"Yes, go out on a date with me. We've never done that."

"Dating?" she asks, looking at him through her eyelashes, trying to hide the incredulous smile. With their history and every memory they carry in their hearts, he cares about traditionality. "A first date?" Jon nods and then stares at her, patiently awaiting her answer. "And when would this date be?"

"Right now," the answer is out of his mouth as soon as Arya has finished talking and she pauses, blinking slowly.

"Right now? I'm here with you already, yet you ask me to go out with you on a date… right now. This already looks like a date, you know." She wrinkles her nose as if she's breaking a hard truth and fears his reaction. Jon doesn't even budge.

He is smiling in a very boyish gesture that is oh, so charming. He knows it, Arya is sure, that's why he smiles like that. He nods at her and she huffs before laughing, nodding too.

"Is that a yes?" he presses, his grey eyes that are just a tiny bit darker than hers seem to be dancing. It feels as if they are in vacation and Arya has the feeling Jon wants to drag it out, this freedom, for a little while longer. Once they get home, it won't be just them, it'll be the whole Stark bunch and the extras; a term that used to be uniquely in reference to Theon and Jeyne Poole and that has recently extended to the Westerling Jeyne, Margaery Tyrell and now Meera Reed (Arya wonders idly when Rickon's plus one will be added to the list). It'll be different than just enjoying each other's company and even though they both love their family, they have always been the misunderstood ones, the odd couple out of a tight knit family that seemed to have everything figured out.

But right now is just them.

She doesn't try to hide her smile anymore and nods again. "Yes."

If possible, Jon's smile gets wider.

Then.

Jon's room was a safe haven, had always been.

It was the whole place in the whole Stark household where Catelyn Stark would never wander in, even if she knew Arya was hiding from her in it.

Catelyn's relationship with Jon had started shaky, uncertain, awkward. Everyone said so, even if Arya had never been there to see it at its worst. Ned liked to talk about how Arya had brought them, Jon and Catelyn, together into a real bond when she was a reckless child that wouldn't let Jon go for a second. However, every Stark knew it had built over the years as he grew up and Catelyn started treating him more and more like a son, a gradual bond between the two.

But old habits die hard and the awkwardness of the beginning had forced them both to have a very clear limit: Jon's bedroom. It was his space and, even after all those years, Catelyn never wandered in (once, when she had been scolding Jon and he had just walked into his room, Catelyn had stood outside, even with the door wide open, screaming hoarse about Jon's punishment without attempting to cross the threshold).

So Arya hid in his room a lot. All the time for whatever reason she would come up with and sometimes with no reason at all.

She was lying on his bed, her feet resting on his pillows, her head at the foot of the bed and her hair hanging towards the floor. She was holding a book above her, her arms outstretched fully as she carefully stared at the colorful illustrations of Queen Nymeria even though she had seen it thousand of times before. She looked towards the door when Jon walked in at smiled at him brightly as he closed the door behind him.

That's when Arya, even upside down, noticed the tense muscles of his shoulders and how his eyes were glued to the floor. She dropped the book next to her on the bed.

"Everything okay, Jon?" her voice was light, cheerful. That tone would always make him smile.

He didn't this time. Instead, he rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand, the other hiding inside the left pocket of his jeans. He looked worried. "Arya, there's something I need to tell you."

She sat up at that, turning around so she was sitting crossed legged, staring straight at him. He came to stand at the foot of the bed, right in front of her, but made no further movement.

"Sure, what is it?" Sure, she was worried now, but made an effort to not display it. He lifted his eyes to hers.

"I—" he paused, gulping, and her eyes followed the movement of his throat for just a second and then snapped back to his eyes. He wasn't looking at her, though, not directly, his gaze far away and Arya had a bad feeling about the whole thing. "I've known for a few months and I should've told you sooner and I just—" a heavy sigh and she hated that sound, "I didn't know how."

Arya was starting to lose what little patience she had at fifteen and just huffed nervously, squirming a little, moving her legs restlessly. The mattress complained under her movements. "Just spit it out, Jon. The truth. Just tell me."

"I got accepted at the Wall."

Ouch. Okay, Arya wasn't sure what bothered her more. The fact that he was leaving (that was the tiniest part, she knew he would leave eventually, she wasn't stupid ), the fact that he had kept it a secret for so long or that he looked so goddamn worried now that he was telling her.

They had talked about this before, what they wanted to do after high school. Jon had talked about Wintertown University, so conveniently close to Winterfell they would be able to see each other as often as they wanted. Robb was going to Wintertown, so was Theon and it was the easy choice. Arya had known Jon wanted more but had kept quiet all the same, quietly pretending she didn't notice the brochures about The Wall lying on his desk.

Over time it started to hurt a little how he never brought it up, how he would talk to uncle Benjen about it behind her back but keep quiet as soon as she walked into the room (Arya had her ways of knowing thing and yes, it involved using Bran's nature of just knowing and Rickon's willingness to crawl under tables and then reproduce conversations he had heard whilst in hiding). And now he had applied and gotten accepted and kept it all quiet, all a secret.

It stung a little bit. Also made her a little angry. Over all, just made her frustrated.

She decided to ignore it all. She pushed the little ache of her heart down and jumped, her arms finding their way around his neck like she had done thousand of times, and she hugged him a little tighter than necessary (he was the stupid one, he deserved it). "Jon!" she exclaimed, cheerfully because those were good news, even if Jon was an idiot, and they should be happy about the whole thing. "That's amazing! Oh, I bet the Wall's so cool. "

He laughed, sounding like whatever had driven him to be nervous was leaving his body as he did so, and held her tight in return. Arya kissed his cheek, thousand of fleeting kisses on his skin, and he laughed a little harder in the midst of the carefree attack. But then her mouth wandered to close to his, almost touching his lips, and both froze at the same time, their breath hitching in their throats and making a harsh sound that left way to an expectant silence.

Jon spoke, or more like whispered, right above her lips, his breath ghosting on her skin. Her eyes drifted close as she breathed in. "Yeah, it's amazing."

Arya looked at him then, her lashes almost caressing his skin as her eyes fluttered with the movement. She had wanted to see his eyes, to see what he truly meant in such a toneless, almost melancholic voice, but his eyes were aiming downwards, towards her lips even though he was too close to see them clearly.

She was suddenly scared.

"Will you come back?" she asked a little breathlessly and thanked the heavens when her voice didn't quiver with the needy tone the question had in her mind. It also felt a little stupid, childish, but she had to ask.

Jon frowned at her question, his eyes still stuck in her lips. "To you?" it was just a whisper and the husky undertone of his voice was delicious. Arya just nodded, her nose rubbing against his as she did so. Jon drew a shaky breath. "Always."

She exhaled, relieved. "Good."

And then she kissed him breathless.

Now .

He refuses to tell her what he's planning at first.

Using his phone, he searches for something on the internet as Arya stares intently at his hands, eyes swaying towards his face every few seconds. There's this little crease between his eyebrows as he furrows them and she notices how no lines form on his forehead as he does so. His long fingers dance above his phone's screen, and she's mesmerized, hypnotized by the graceful way he moves them. Softly, a little part of her mind wonders if he would've been a good pianist. Rhaegar was a musician after all and even though every physical aspect on Jon screams Stark, those close to the Targaryen heir say his son shares his expressions, his mannerisms, his voice. Maybe his musical talent, too.

After a few seconds, he looks up at her and smiles, small and demure and a little bit nervous and Arya wants to tangle her fingers in his hair to kiss him fiercely, to wipe out the uncertainty from his face.

She smiles, wide and unbound and truthful, instead. "So?"

"Get in the car. We need to buy some things first."

They roam the town in a daze. They don't look like a lovesick couple, they so don't , but Arya won't deny there's a lot of hand holding involved (they've been doing that for years anyway, since they were children, so that's nothing new).

Jon drags her to a department store and he buys cushions and a huge blanket and Arya just smirks, asking if this is his sneaky way of asking for a quickie in the car, and Jon stops for a second just to give her that this is serious look. She smiles and shrugs and he rolls his eyes, smiling too.

"But, seriously, it's a possibility , you know. Like, I am willing. " Arya stresses the words so he'll get it (the gods know he can be dense sometimes) and Jon chokes a little.

"We are not having sex in a rented car!" and he says that too loudly in a crowded store and Arya loves the flush on his cheeks as he tries to hide his face under his hair. She just smiles, devilishly, and Jon is fighting back a smile. "You did that on purpose."

"You are just too easy." Then, as an afterthought, she adds: "I still meant it, though, so..."

Jon grumbles something that remarkably sounds like "don't tempt me" but he refuses to repeat it when Arya asks so she'll never know for sure. He's not done planning this impromptu date so the thought leaves her head as he drags her to the car and to another unknown location in search for what he needs.

He parks in front of a supermarket and asks her to wait in the car when he goes in. She's already making up a speech in her head about how long she was kept waiting alone in the car just because she likes surprises but she hates having to be patient for them. Jon comes back too soon with a single bag hanging from his hand (the speech so far is just saying Jon in a whiny voice so she drops the whole act).

They drive back to the beach and Arya is bouncing on her seat. She hadn't been nervous for her first date back when she was sixteen. Nor really excited either, actually. And, partly, she had agreed because Sansa kept pestering her about it.

Now she has agreed on her own. Now she's both nervous and excited and just moved by the gesture.

And it's all Jon's doing.

It's always Jon.

Then.

She had been playing with Rickon in the backyard when Jon and Robb had come back home; Robb carrying a secret smile and Jon looking like a child at Christmas. He had taken her hand, muttered an apology to Rickon and dragged her through the house and out the front door. He made a beeline towards his motorcycle, the classic Super Duke that was already showing the signs of repetitive use and time through the carcass, and wordlessly gave her the old leather jacket she liked to use and the helmet he kept safe for her.

Arya, terribly curious, had complied without saying much, climbed behind him and held on tight as he took her away. Not a hint, not a word, just a smile and for her it was enough. He drove through the street that left Winterfell Manor, taking the curve towards the hills of the Wolfswood and the deserted roads that went through them.

The roads they liked to raced on at nights that were so late it was early. She had been there once, to see Jon take first place with breathless ease as he drove through the pavement as if it was air and he was flying, a roaring bird of steel, flesh and bone. He took curves in sharp movements, faster than she had ever seen him go, but through it all with an elegance that seemed so… his. Fearless, more reckless than usual, and just glorious.

She had wanted the same immediately. The speed, the danger, the elegance. She wanted to fly and she wanted to win and she wanted to be a bullet through the road. Unstoppable, free. But Arya was only thirteen and Robb had looked utterly terrified at the suggestion, Jon had looked thoughtful but disapproving and the only one that seemed on board with it was Theon (he had looked even more excited than Arya was herself, muttering about how much money he could make betting on her because he just knew she would be savage on the road. He was right, she would've been).

At the end, obviously, her request had been denied, her desire forbidden. She wanted it even more and Jon never knew how to say no, not to her.

The next race, Jon hadn't climbed the Super Duke alone and from then on every race he had won it had been with Arya's arms around his waist.

One last race, it seemed, just the two of them and she was living.

He was leaving soon and lately Arya had let the facade of complete happiness drop a little bit more every day. Everything he needed had been packed, she had helped with some of his stuff, and every paper was in order for him to start a new life further north. Her sadness felt selfish and childish but it just wouldn't go away. Jon would, though, and that was the whole goddamn problem.

She held on a little tighter as he took a curve, the motor roaring around them, and she hid her face on the leather that covered his back. Now, though, she felt careless. Jon was here, she was here, and the wind was carrying them away together. She could forget about sadness for a while, about selfish thoughts and childish fears and the little self-loathing that crawled into her mind whenever she felt any of those things.

He was going fast but her heart was beating faster. Their regular circuit went on for several minutes, circling the hills and drifting through woods of ancient trees so fast everything was a blur of green and blue and black. But he was slowing down way too soon and Arya blinked, surprise.

Then, she saw it. The silhouette waiting next to a truck in the berm of the right side of the road, there were the space was wider as the road turned into another curve. Jon came to a full stop on it and Theon beamed at them both.

"Delivery for Jon and Arya Stark!" he called cheerfully, both hands dramatically aiming towards something that had been partly hidden next to him. Arya got off and moved to get a better view, gasping once she saw it.

"Oh, dear gods," was the only thing she said and Jon laughed behind her. Before her in all of its glory rested a Aprilia Tuono V4R, one of the fastest (if not the fastest all together) motorcycles on the market. Adrenaline taken into something tangible, she had wanted it so bad she had dreamed with it. "Oh, dear gods. "

"Do you like it?" Jon asked, Arya felt like fainting.

"Is it mine? "

He only nodded and Arya was staring at it again with unrestrained wonder. Oh, the things the beauty before her could do. The speed it could reach and, my, how she could fly riding that thing.

Theon next to her snorted. "Okay, I'm gonna give you time with your new lover, Arya." Arya only nodded, lovingly caressing the chassis. "But first, and this are Jon's rules, that's why they are so boring, a few things:" he raised a finger, "no, you are not racing with this thing alone without Jon here which is a fucking shame because—"

"Just stick to what we agreed to, Theon."

Greyjoy sighed the most fake sigh in existence and if Arya hadn't been so enraptured by her new baby, she would've laugh. Theon raised another finger: "no, you cannot come here just to ride it through the hills alone either. Robb has to be with you and no, you can't come either just with me because nobody fucking trusts me in this goddamn family."

"Three years ago," Jon muttered as a remainder. Theon rolled his eyes.

"That's in the past, everyone should get over it and stop whining because everyone was fine. "

"You burned down the—"

"Three!" Theon interrupted him loudly, raising another finger, "you must promise not to let Rickon into our illegal footsteps. Which, again, it's a shame because we all know that boy could—"

"Theon!"

"Goddamn it, okay! I'm done!"

Arya did laugh this time and turned around to stare at the both of them. "And why are you, of all people, telling me the rules?"

"Yes, Theon," Jon answered instead, standing with crossed arms and looking too stern for his own good. "Tell her why."

Theon looked both annoyed and chastised at the same time. "Because I promised not to encourage you to break the rules so I must know them as well as you." He recited the words as if they have been repeated to him over and over again, forced to learn them.

"Good." Jon proclaimed, seemingly satisfied and Theon rolled his eyes.

"Okay, I'm leaving. Have fun, for once."

He climbed into the truck and drove away towards Winter Town, leaving them alone in the cold woods, two motorcycles ready to spring to life. Arya smiled, giddy with excitement and Jon seemed to catch her mood, his eyes coming to life with glee.

"The rules say I cannot race alone without you here." Arya carefully declared, Jon nodded. "You are here."

His eyes never left hers. "Exactly. Do you think you can win in a race against me, little wolf?"

They took off into the woods minutes later and no race had ever been this fun.

She won. He claimed beginner's luck.

Now.

After having to wait a little longer in the car while Jon sets something up on the sand, Arya finally has a little peek of what's going on.

She's just scrolling through the internet on her phone when a soft knock on her window calls her attention. She turns to look and a delivery boy is looking at her, holding a box of pizza and smiling awkwardly and… okay?

The window scrolls down and she raises an eyebrow in question. The boy squirms a little.

"I was told to deliver this to the red car with this license plate so…"

Arya just tilts her head. "Uhm, I think my boyfriend ordered that…"

And before she can offer to climb down the car and look for him, Jon literally shows up out of nowhere. "I did! Thank you!" He just shoves money into the boy's hand, taking the box from him. "Here, you can keep the change."

The boy just blinks, nods and walks away with just a muttered thanks, climbing into a really old motorcycle, a poor, beaten Honda ANF 125 that looks like absolute shit and Arya can't stop the disapproval from shining on her eyes (you treat motorcycles with respect , damn it). Then she turns to look at Jon and he's just staring at her with this look and her stomach flutters and she doesn't know what she has done to get that look and holy shit .

"What?" she asks a little breathless, a little self-concious.

"You called me your boyfriend."

"Oh?" Now she's a little embarrassed too. "And you are not ? 'Cause if you don't want to be—"

"I loved it." He interrupts her speech right away. "I love that I am."

She huffs, trying to hide the blush she can feel growing on her skin. "Yeah, whatever. You are such a sap."

Jon is just smiling and he opens the car door for her, pizza box still in hand. "Well, ready for our first date?"

She forgets about the whole incident, perking up at the thought of finally knowing, and climbs out of the car excitedly. "Yes! Pizza!" She might be bouncing on her heels, wild hair around her, but if anybody asks, she'll deny it.

He huffs. "Of course, it's about the food. "

She smacks him in the arm as the door closes behind her. "Shut up."

They are walking towards the beach and that's when she sees it. Jon has built a little nook with the blanket and the cushions and there's this little LED lights that people use on christmas and when the fuck did he buy those? There's also a cooler with a sixpack of her favourite brand of beer inside and he's carrying pizza and she can't shake the thought that this is perfect.

It's lovely and sappy and lovely and Arya has to roll her eyes and chuckle nervously at the same time because Jon. But it's also simple and easy and comfortable and that's what makes it even better.

Of course, she runs to it, all the time telling Jon to hurry the fuck up because pizza! And this is them. Simple and romantic (Jon lives for it) and honest and them.

Once they are all set, she looks into his eyes. "I love this."

Jon smiles. "I love you ."

Arya rolls her eyes, open the pizza box ( oh, yes, extra cheese) and mutters: "So sappy."

Her phone vibrates in her pocket just as she grabs a slice of pizza. She takes it out with her free hand, watching glorious cheese stretch almost eternally as she pulls the slice away from the box, and sees Bran's name blinking on her screen. She unlocks the phone and moans low in her throat: glorious cheese tastes as good as it looks. Jon laughs in front of her, lying down partly on the cushions he brought and partly on the sand, and she blows him a kiss playfully.

Bran

"Hey, I just got home and I thought you were getting here before me. Where are you?"

She quickly types out a response and blocks her phone.

Arya

"Seagard with Jon."

She hasn't even taken a second bite, her phone still in her hand, and she feels it vibrate again. It's a longer message this time and god, this kid types fast.

Bran

"Oh, Jon's on block leave? And what the hell are you two doing in Seagard? Buying ice cream? I mean, Seagard does have the best ice cream of Westeros."

She rolls her eyes playfully and Jon nudges her thigh with his foot, silently asking her what is it. She types.

Arya

"Yes, Bran. We went all the way to Seagard for ice cream. My sweet summer child."

She sends it and then takes another bite just to answer Jon with a mouth full of pizza. She's completely sure she looks so attractive right now. "Bran. He wants to know why I'm not home. Can I tell him you are in terminal leave?"

Her phone vibrates again, she decides not to answer right away. Jon talks right before taking a bite. "Please, don't." He shakes his head as he eats and part of her marvels at the fact he understood all those mumbled words that managed to get out of her mouth among all that heavenly cheese. Of course, he has the decorum to swallow before talking. "He'll tell Robb and I want it to be a surprise."

The phone vibrates a second time. Arya is getting her second slice of pizza out of the box, nodding in understanding for Jon and, again, rolls her eyes as she feels her phone in her pocket. Jon watches her carefully and Arya thrives in how much she likes the way his eyes feel on her, even during something as boring as just eating pizza.

She checks her phone this time.

Bran

"?"

"Oh. OH. I get it now. Use protection sister, mom would freak out if you get pregnant."

And the pizza comes flying out of her mouth.

Jon raises his eyebrows, cheese on his cheek, and then bursts out laughing so hard he has to put his slice of pizza down. Arya feels strangely proud, even as she furiously types a response. She's known for being the only one that can make Jon smile and laugh like that with minimum effort.

He wipes the cheese off his cheek.

Arya

"WHAT? THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT. WHAT'S UP WITH YOUR DIRTY MIND?"

A little part of her mind, though, whispers that wouldn't be such a bad idea at all. Let her mind get a little dirty and just let it rule for a while, maybe just a bit of—

Her thoughts get interrupted by her phone again, which she still has in her hands. She decides to read this message right away, answer, and then bury her phone in the sand and don't let it bother her anymore. She has something in mind that should keep her—both of them actually—quite occupied.

Bran

"Yeah, right, whatever. Could you bring me ice cream anyway? Three Milks, please."

Arya

"Fine."

With her phone out of her way, pizza forgotten, she crawls towards Jon and he watches her intently, his mouth tilted up in a gesture that speaks volumes of how much he knows what she's planning. She straddles him in a swift movement, knowing something fast will surprise him even if he knows what dances across her thoughts. His hands immediately find their way under her shirt, one resting against her waist, the other on her lower back; and judging by the surprised look on his eyes—Arya knew it would work—, it wasn't a conscious movement. Muscle memory, probably , she muses distracted. She has moved fast but now she goes slow, lowering herself towards his lips lazily, pressing herself against him .

Jon smiles. "Had enough pizza?" he whispers, amused.

She nods without realizing she's biting her lip until she has to speak.

"I'm craving a—" a slight pause, his eyes are darker, and she has never wanted to kiss him more "a different taste right now."

And then they are kissing like an eager couple at prom night: messy and eager and hot. His mouth tastes like cheap beer and though Arya has always had more of a thing for distilled spirits, particularly the taste of whisky on his lips, she relishes delighted on the flavour. The taste of beer is never as good as it is from his mouth and she hums in appreciation for it, his body answering to the sound.

Jon holds her a little tighter, his fingers digging into her flesh, his tongue a little more insistent and her hand slips into his silky hair, her nails softly scratching the nape of his neck. He growls, she shivers, and now his lips are on her neck and her hips are pressing against his, hard and wanton and— oh, gods, this feels good.

There's something relaxing about their feelings being out in the open, about the fact that they are in their very first official date, young and carefree and juvenile and happy. But there's something so desperate too, so intricate with instinct, so raw because she almost lost him, and he nearly died and they have been denying themselves this wonderful feeling, this wonderful truth, for reasons that seem so stupid now, so petty, so insignificant. And Jon tastes like future and his hands feel like safety and he's here, Arya tells herself, half-mad with want and desire and, she feels ridiculous for this, half-mad with love. He's here with me .

She rocks, back and forth, and Jon digs his right hand into the left side of her hips—his arm's around her, holding her close, tightly, desperately—so hard, there's gonna be a bruise in the shape of his fingers tomorrow.

"I love you," she thinks, not realizing she's actually saying that out loud until he exhales right above her lips as if her words have given him life. He guides the movement of her hips with his arms and she throws her head back. "Gods, I love you."

"Arya," he answers with his voice breaking, his lips brushing against her throat and she's still moving above him and— fuck.

He grabs the back of her head as he hears her moan, brings her lips back to his and he is kissing her again with that delicious, delicious fire bleeding through his every move and she's addicted to this feeling. This mixed feeling of so many things at once that just twirls inside her heart, around her heart. He has turned her into a hurricane and she thrives in how powerful it makes her feel.

She feels glorious.

"GET A ROOM!"

And now a bucket of ice cold water has been dropped over them both and Arya immediately stands still. Jon's hands are still holding her too tight for her to move away from him so she stays right where she is, quiet and a little shocked. Their heavy breathing and the waves of the sea is the only thing they can hear after that shout and Jon gulps, his mouth not longer to attached to hers.

And then they burst out laughing with what little breath has been left in their lungs.

Then.

Jon's room didn't change much over the years after he left for The Wall. It still was Arya's safe haven and it still was his room whenever he would visit so his stuff were constantly moving, dust never being allowed to settle in. Never truly abandoned, it still gave off the vibe of housing someone regularly, even if the real owner would just come from time to time when university and responsibility and longing would allow him to.

She had said goodbye to Jon as he left for university in the same spot she was sitting on at the moment. She would have to do the same thing again now and somehow it felt so, so different. She was the one leaving this time and farther away than Jon had left and she hadn't had to say goodbye to the room at all back then. She had to now.

Maybe dust would find its home here after all once she was gone. Braavos was far away.

It made her both breathlessly happy and restlessly sad. She wanted to go, live abroad, see new places, meet new people. She didn't want to leave Winterfell, though. At the same time, she wanted to be home—even if Winterfell didn't always feel like home when Jon wasn't there with her—and it made her feel cynical. The part that wanted to go felt like a betrayal to Stark, the part that wanted to stay felt like a betrayal to Arya.

And she was both.

What a bitter thought to have about your future: it's making me a traitor.

"You are brooding," Arya raised her eyes at the sound of his voice, her heart fluttering ever so gently she thought it hadn't happened at all, "and that's my thing."

Jon smiled and Arya breathed. He was standing on his door frame, leaning against it in a seemingly relaxed posture that fooled no one. They hadn't seen each other in months and it was too much, too long.

"Welcome home," she said and it somehow felt more ominous that it should have, like goodbye was already hanging above their heads like the sword of Damocles. She forced herself to remain impassive, Jon saw through it.

"I felt the same, you know, that's why I was so scared to tell you. I thought you would feel it too, that I was betraying home." She laughed, she couldn't help it. Trust Jon to know what was on her head. "You helped me see that that was not the case."

"Did I?" Cynical, cynical, cynical. She had felt betrayed back then, even if it was only a little bit. She had kept quiet about it though, because his happiness had meant much more. Jon had always meant much more.

He narrowed his eyes, his gaze drifting between hers quickly, as if analyzing the every moment of her irises. He walked closer, one knee resting on the edge of the mattress as he bent down at her level and Arya instinctively raised her face to meet his. His fingers threaded through the hair at her scalp and he showed no surprise when he only found short soft hair. She had cut it a few months ago, the undercut visible only when her hair was up, and it had grown just a little. He grabbed it and the length forced him to grab a little harder than usual. Arya parted her lips to breathe because suddenly it was much harder to do so.

"Will you come back to me?"

"Yes" the low volume of her voice dragged the s at the end and Jon's sharp intake of breath was heaven.

He smiled that sharp, predatory smile that was hers , just like his soft secret smile belonged to her too, and the breathless happy one, and the amused smirk that just lifted one corner of his lips. "I have a present for you."

Her smile mirrored his. "Do we need to lock the door for it?" She wasn't sure if she was just teasing or genuinely asking.

Jon's eyes widened a little. "Arya!" Then I guess that's a no. She only laughed at him and he shook his head. He kissed her forehead, his lips remaining on her skin longer than necessary. As he let her go and turned around to leave the room, she pursed her mouth in disappointment.

Her lips felt cold.

The expression on her face was gone by the time he looked back at her, an amused smile on her face instead. He got an unfamiliar set of keys out of his pocket, Honda's "H" inside the rounded square big and bright in silver, and shook his fingers so they would make that tingling, acute sound Arya liked so much when she was a baby.

Her smile now turned breathless, disbelieving. "You didn't."

"Really, little wolf? You truly think I didn't?"

"I have the Tuono! Why would you—"

He huffed. "You need a new one for Braavos."

She stole the keys from his hands and then raced him downstairs in a fit of careless laughter.

Her lips still felt cold.

Now.

It feels like it's been hours but they are still laughing. Arya has come back to her original place on the large blanket and Jon is lying in the sand, trying to control his breathing. They had been so caught up in their little world, their attention solely on each other, they had completely forgotten they were in public.

Oh, gods, we were dry humping in a public place, she realizes.

The laughter starts again deep in her chest, vibrating in her throat, and just the fact she's laughing makes Jon laugh again and it all starts over.

Technically, if it's worth anything, they were in a semi -public place since they were the only people on the beach—wait... if they were the only people on the beach, then who had said that?

Arya stops laughing slowly, her breath trying desperately to get the air into her lungs before her maniatic laughter pushes it out, and searches her surroundings with her eyes. The only people she can see is an elderly couple walking hand in hand further down the beach from where they are resting. Her breath hitches and she has to concentrate to not burst out laughing. Again.

"Jon," she calls, he is hiding his face between his arms, his head almost buried in the sand. By the way his shoulders move, she knows he is still laughing. "Jon," she insists, shaking his shoulder. He raises his head to look at her and his cheeks are flushed. "I think I know who shouted at us."

"Who?" he follows her line of sight, eyes narrowing to see the disappearing couple that walk near the water and he chortles . "Holy shit." Arya smiles, wide. So wide the muscles in her face complain but the ache is vague and sweet and worth it. "Oh, by the Gods " Jon cries with mirth and then looks at her in the eyes, right into her eyes, and this sight is a memory Arya will keep in her mind. "I'm sure we gave them a good show at least."

She winks. "Damn straight."

Jon's cheek are even redder if that's possible and that's how Arya realizes he's actually embarrassed. She, on the other hand, is goddamn proud. The always-proper-in-public Jon was so enraptured he forgot where he was and he just went with it, his mind taken over with thoughts of her. Yeah, she's fucking proud of that.

As he settles comfortably and grabs the forgotten slice of pizza he had in hand when Arya decided to shake things up a little, she settles back in a more comfortable position and takes a drink from her can of beer. She checks her phone to see 5 unread messages waiting for her.

They're all from Bran.

Bran

"Rickon wants some too. Swiss chocolate. And could you bring Mint chocolate chip for Meera? I'll pay you once you get here."

"Oh, bring Strawberry for Sansa too. She's Margaery deprived and she could use some sugar in her system."

"Bring her a lot, she needs a lot. She looks like a crack addict in withdrawal."

"Seriously, she's starting to freak me out."

"Are you not answering because you are having sex with Jon?"

The drink going down her throat gets a little stuck and she swallows hurriedly. Jon arches an eyebrow but says nothing as Arya coughs on the inside of her elbow. "I'm fine," she croaks, "just went the wrong way."

And then she types, pressing send fast and getting an answer immediately.

Arya

"OH MY GOD, BRAN."

Bran

"You were, weren't you?"

For a second, a part of her is actually scared he is somehow basing his inquiries in more than suppositions and he actually saw them or something. Of course, that's bullshit. The kid may be like a God most of the time, knowing things he shouldn't, but he isn't actually omniscient.

She shakes her head as she sends another message.

Arya

"Goodbye, brother. Tell my precious wild wolf that I love him."

Since there's no immediate answer this time, she blocks her phone and focuses on what little pizza lies waiting in the box. Jon looks at her, contemplative, and she arches an eyebrow in silent question. He smiles and she knows he is still thinking of something so she waits in silence, enjoying the pizza that has gone cold.

Eventually, he speaks.

"It's not a bad idea, you know". Since her mouth is full, way too full this time, she just tilts her head. Jon's smile gets crooked, a more wicked tint to it, and Arya shivers though she is not sure why. He leans in to get closer. "Getting a room. It's not a bad idea."

Ah, that's why she shivers, then. Human bodies can be so smart. Her smile mirrors his.

"Oh, yes, please." She practically purrs and lowers her face so she can stare at him from her eyelashes, let her eyes roam lazily over him. She leans in as well, the distance growing smaller. "Better yet, let's stay here in Seagard tonight. Let's go to a nice hotel. We can even ask for champagne and roses and whatnot. After all, we've done everything here first. First kiss, first date… I mean, I don't usually do this in first dates, but I kinda have the feeling you are special"

"Oh? Are you getting romantic on me, Arya Stark?" She kisses him as an answer, soft and slow as he holds her chin gently. Then, she bites his lower lip. Hard. And pulls away with a smug smile. Jon laughs and pulls her close to kiss her again, a more consuming kiss this time. "That answer was loud and clear," he whispers before pulling away.

Her phone vibrates and, as he lies back down, she checks Bran's new message.

Bran

"Your favoritism for Rickon is starting to show. And you know what else is starting to show? The fact that you totally ignored my question. Like, I don't want details, but seriously, sis, the coolest Stark generation has been waiting for the sexual tension between you two to stop. We've been waiting for so long. Arya, please, just let the subject rest in peace and admit it"

She's shaking her head at the long message, an incredulous smile on her lips and Jon seems to notice.

"Still Bran?"

"Yeah," she answers with her eyes on the phone. She starts typing a response. "This kid, seriously."

Arya

"Oh, God: Dad, Uncle Benjen and the spirits of Lyanna and Brandon have been waiting for this? Holy shit. And here I thought Dad was totally clueless. Damn. About Rickon being my favourite: I never truly hid it. Don't feel bad, tho, you know you are my second favorite. Give Sansa some love too (PS: You know, we could be the coolest generation if y'all didn't make me carry the weight of coolness by my lonesome self)"

She can feel Jon getting closer, the soft sound of fabric being moved, and now he's sitting next to her. "What are you two talking about?"

"You and me." She lets out a little laugh. "And Rickon being my favourite."

Jon chuckles. "So cat's out of the bag?"

"About what precisely?"

He seems to be pondering about it for a second as Arya stares at the three little moving dots next to Bran's name. He's typing a response.

"Both."

Bran's new message lights up her screen.

Bran

"And Robb? (PS: THAT'S AN ADMISSION, AS FAR AS I'M CONCERNED. GOOD FOR YOU, SIS. Seriously, use a condom. And, btw, are you saying Jon's not cool? For shame, Arya, be kind to your husband)"

Arya makes this sound at the back of her throat that oscillates between a chuckle, a horrified gasp and an incredulous huff. Husband? Ok, kiddo, calm down.

She answers Jon first. "Yeah, it's out."

Jon tilts his mouth, as if deciding how he feels about it. Then shrugs. "They were gonna know eventually."

She presses send to her new message and then turns to him.

Arya

"Give Robb a broccoli, he'll appreciate it more. (PS: I'M NO ONE'S WIFE, FOR FUCK'S SAKE)"

"Yeah, they kind of knew already. Bran and Sansa at least, the Gods know how clueless Robb is." At the mention of Robb's name, Jon actually looks worried. Arya huffs. "You have nothing to worry about."

Jon shakes his head. "Yeah, I'm not so sure. Robb's crazy, you know. Must be the lack of sugar in his life."

"Talking about sugar," Arya says, her phone showing her a new text, "remind me to buy ice cream before we go. We have a couple of orders from my siblings."

Jon only nods and she reads Bran's text, answering right away and quickly ending the conversation.

Bran

"Don't monopolize Jon for too long. I know he's your husband and all but we want to see him too."

Arya

"God, you are infuriating. I'll try but I make no promises. We are travelling back tomorrow and we have to make a stop at White Harbor. We'll probably be there by dinner."

Bran

"Why, thank you, I've been learning from the best. I'll let Mother know so she'll stop bugging me about your whereabouts. Love you! Don't forget the ice cream!"

Arya

"Yeah, yeah. Love you too."

She actually turns her phone off, knowing her mother will probably try to call her, and then looks at Jon with her big grey eyes. Jon seems to be waiting for her and she smiles, eyes narrowed in a suggestive nature.

"So… hotel room?"

Jon raises his beer as a cheer. "Hotel room!"

AND THAT'S IT.

I hope you enjoyed it, I truly do. Please, leave your opinion on a comment, I'll appreciate every word with all my heart.