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Jon Snow (blackestsnow) wrote in valarlogs,

'You're young yet,' Jon defended, nudging Bran with his shoulder while simultaneously shooting Arya a daggered glare. She could be harsh at times, quite blunt and unknowingly hurtful; every bit as honest and fiery as Robb. Qualities which were at once both alluring and pointedly annoying.

Oh, Robb.

But Lord, was Jon a love-struck puppy. All big, beautiful brown eyes gone wobbly over the tall Scotsman.

Looking between his siblings, Jon was tempted to spill the sticks. Maybe drop a hint or a subtle brag while they were on the subject that there was someone in his life who'd caught his fancy. It'd have been a toss-up to see whether Arya, who knew his true orientation, would coo like the teenage girl she struggled so hard not to be or openly gag for the laugh. Bran, on the other hand, seemed a right stroppy cow on the subject of girls. Not knowing his half-brother was bent Jon guess a good nose rubbing would have him whinging something terrible, asking too many questions that Jon lacked the energy to confront that evening.

And then, of course, Jon preferred to keep this small bit of something - because really, what else was he to call their coffee-delivery, stolen snogging thing without proper title other than "something" - all to himself. His very own, and no one else's for the immediate future.

Just Jon and Robb. As if it had always been intended that way.

'Right. Plenty of time for the pull when you're older.' Reaching over Jon rescued the cuppa from Bran's fingers and shoved him a second time. 'Now scoot off to bed, the both of you. Before your mother skins the lot of us. School and work in the morning, get you gone.'