Que Sera, Sera (random fics)

[Juno]

~​

From a letter to Gabe:

Hey honeybunch,

I'm writing this while sitting here in a cafe along the waterfront in Cannes. It's currently hot as shit but I've got my shades and my layers with the added coverage of sunblock so I think I'm well protected. I met with Maureen O'Sullivan the other day (you recall my mentioning her having a hand in the Wizards project) and I don't think she's very fond of me. She might even downright hate me but I'll reserve me judgment until the tests are done. Nothing is conclusive but I'm pretty stoked about it. The pseudo-science brings out the little boy in me, don't cha know?

Sorry that I haven't been able to skype but I can assure you that I'll try and arrange something for next week because I'm crazy busy and only taking the time to write this because I miss you and I'm conceded enough to believe that getting this letter will make your day. It's a lot more sentimental than an email and I'll even rub the paper on my privates before sending it. You'd like that, wouldn't you? I hope not. I'm not savvy enough to manage that without getting several paper cuts.

Four weeks is an obscene amount of time to be away from home but just think of the incredible sex we'll have when I get back. Only, don't think too hard because you might just start experiencing withdrawal symptoms. I've heard fucking me will do that. I hope you're reading this when you're alone because I can practically see you grinning.

I wish you were here. I haven't gotten around to doing the touristy stuff as yet. It won't be nearly as much fun without you but I'll take pictures for Ben and Evanna. I think she'd like the Croisette gardens, right?

Anyway, I guess I should end this because I really need to check in with Phil before he files a missing persons report. Try not to miss me too much. I love you, Gabe. Know that yours is the face I imagine when I wank at night.

Love,

Brady

~​

From an email to Gabe:

Hey,

Just sending you a quick email to let you know that I haven't frozen my arse off and I'm sorry for cutting our call short. I'll make it up to you tonight. You don't have to come get me, I'll just cab to your place. Keep the sheets warm, kay? Kisses.

P.S. I'm never taking a Greyhound bus again.

~​

From a text to Gabe:

My professor is incompetent and I'm horny. Be a good boyfriend and send me pictures of your cock. Kgo.

 

[Juno]

~

Tell me would you kill to save a life?
Tell me would you kill to prove you're right?
Crash, crash, burn, let it all burn
This hurricane's chasing us all underground

~​

It had been a day unlike any other when Jon Snow ventured off to Harrentown to meet with the widow he had made. The air held a distinct chill to it that spoke of the winter to come but even he, a born and bred Northman, was having trouble with this chill for it penetrated far deeper than his bones. His very soul seemed to have frozen and no fire could remedy it.

Jon had asked Satin to find himself some safe lodgings and that he would join him before nightfall. The former whore from Oldtown had agreed without a single complaint to which Jon could only be grateful. He didn't have the heart to deal with anything else. It already felt as though he was carrying the weight of the world on his weakening shoulders.

He had dismounted his gelding like a man thrice his age. The dwelling was shabby and in disrepair but Jon hadn't expected much else. He had known that Nelly came from a poor family and after the death of her ailing uncle, the house (if one could call it that) had been passed onto her and her... husband.

The last time Jon had seen Nelly had been a painful affair. The girl had been a hysterical mess and she had begged and pleaded for mercy until Jon had been forced to ask the men to lead her away, kicking and screaming. In spite of the horrific nature of the incident, he had somehow managed to notice her beauty and beautiful she was. Her hair long brown hair fell neatly at her slim waist and had a certain sheen to it that went well with the almost childish glint in her blue eyes. Everything about Nelly was small and delicate. She was a little taller than average but dainty with features that likened her to a doll, not unlike her late husband.

Jon didn't know the whole story and a part of him didn't want to know, but he could recall how bitter he had felt the moment he had spotted them, husband and wife, looking almost too beautiful to be true. There was Brady with his wind-swept golden locks and an eternal air of serenity to him that Jon envied with his pretty little wife clinging to his side. It had touched Jon. It had angered Jon. It had ultimately led Jon to take a life. Brady's life.

He had gone over the incident several times in his head and no matter how he spun it, he knew that the outcome would inevitably have been the same. The majority of the men had called for justice and even when Jon himself had promised the severest of punishments, it had done no good. Brady's life had been in the hands of the Watch and now his watch had ended.

A day didn't go by where Jon didn't wish things were different. Some days he would find himself passing the old armoury and a part of him could almost hear the distant sound of practice swords clashing. The nights were worst of all. Even with Satin tucked neatly in his arms, he would inhale the sweet scent of his lover's hair and recall something else quite different. Brady had always smelled like water, so pure and good that Jon almost wished he could reach out and rub his golden head once again.

But he couldn't. Brady was gone and no manner hoping and praying would bring him back.

The bow in his hand hadn't been forged of shoddy craftsmanship. He could recall Brady once telling him exactly how he had gotten his hands on it. At any other time, the memory would have forced a smile to his face but Jon didn't think he knew how to smile anymore. Brady had loved his bow and he was the best archer the Wall had, even surpassing Theon Greyjoy who had always been a sure shot.

It was a light thing and yet, it felt incredibly heavy in his grip as if it knew that its true master would never again wield it. It knew that Jon was the reason behind this and it would never accept him, which was why he had come here. If anyone deserved Brady's most prized of possessions, it was his wife.

She had appeared in the doorway, her long hair whipping about her face. She looked alarmingly disheveled. Her gown was torn, her formally neat hair was a mess of tangles and her cheeks were covered in scratches.

Mourning, Jon realised at once. She was in mourning.

It was not the sight of him so much as it was the bow in his hand that triggered her rage. The moment Nelly caught a glimpse of it, she gave a cry of sorrow and ran at him, punching and clawing and kicking and screaming in blind fury.

Jon didn't move an inch. He simply stood there and allowed her to take out her anger on him. It was certainly justified, he knew. He set the bow on the ground and Nelly didn't seem to notice as she was too busy screaming herself into a frenzy.

"How dare you show yourself to me after what you did?" she wept, the look of anger mingling with one of hurt. She appeared even younger like this, Jon noted. So very young and still a widow.

"He loved me," she wailed, grabbing fistfuls of her dark hair and pulling with so much might that Jon moved to stop her only to be shoved away with a surprising amount of force. "No!" she screamed, pummeling his chest and sobbing all at once, "No, no, no. You stay away. You killed him. You killed him."

He had. Jon had killed him.

The horse seemed disturbed by the noise and whinnied with fright but Nelly payed it no mind. The sobs shook her tiny body as she gazed at her husband's slayer hopelessly. "He was going to take me away," she said, her voice raw and breaking with emotion, "He was going to take me far away and we were going to live in a new home and grow old together. He was going to take care of me. He promised. He loved me."

Jon gazed back with a look that mirrored the hopelessness that Nelly must have felt. He loved me too, he wanted to say. He loved me and I loved him and we were supposed to be together. The tears formed in his eyes and he almost found himself answering her, wanting to protest and tell her that he never meant for any of this to happen. But he was cut off as she soon collapsed against him and sobbed into his chest like the child that she was.

Jon stiffened and stood perfectly still for a long time until his compassion took hold. Slowly, he raised his arms and wrapped them around her with the greatest of care. Whether or not she noticed, he didn't know but he held her for a long time.

When at last her tears seemed to have subsided, Jon noticed that the wind had died down to a gentle breeze but the chill in the air remained and he had a feeling it would never leave.

Nelly remained in his arms, feeling so delicate he feared he might break her. "You took him from me," she whispered in a tiny voice, the strength having left her, "I want him back. Bring him back to me."

Kill the boy.

Jon had no words. Nothing he could possibly have said would comfort her. Brady was gone and his was the hand that had slain him. He had since cleansed his bastard sword of the blond's blood but it never did feel right after that. The stain it had left ran much deeper and no amount of polishing would ever fix it.

The young Lord Commander closed his eyes and held the weeping girl tight in his arms, almost too tight, as if he feared losing her to the darkness as well. See that she is looked after, Brady had said and who would Jon be if he didn't heed his deceased brother's words. He would take care of Nelly the best he could and she would be safe and live out a long life for Brady and for him.

The shuddering of Nelly's small form had more or less calmed and if Jon had glanced down, he might have been alarmed by the distant look in her cat-like eyes. It was her voice, however, that roused him from his sad thoughts. She sounded so dead that he almost feared that she might be.

"My child will never know its father," she explained, her tone as rigid and flat as her stance.

Jon froze as if his heart had been engulfed by a quickly spreading sheet of ice. He pulled back and gazed at the girl. Her eyes were red and puffy and her cheeks glistened with tears but that twisted look of sorrow had nearly disappeared, leaving a vast emptiness in its place.

Child... No, he thought miserably, Gods, no. The world could not be that cruel. It couldn't.

Jon watched Nelly's small hand go to her stomach and for a moment, he was rendered speechless. What could he possibly say now? Was there anything left? Not only had he robbed a young wife of her husband, but he had robbed an unborn child of ever knowing its father.

Brady would never hold his son or daughter, Jon thought grimly. He would never live through the name days or the marriages or care for a grandchild. And it was all because of Jon and his wretched sense of duty and honour.

The others take his honour.

Jon watched in confusion as Nelly took his hand, tensing inadvertently once she placed it on her still flat stomach. He gazed into her lovely eyes and felt his own sting with fresh tears but he blinked them back. He could not allow himself to fall apart again. If he lost his strength, who would this girl look to?

The women harbour real strength, he thought not for the first time.

"I will have a son," she stated in an even tone that sounded far stronger than he might have expected from one so small, "And I will name him after his father and he will have his golden hair and gentle heart and all the strength of his kin. You will see, Jon Snow. There is a lion in my belly."

Jon didn't know what to say. He could only stare at this beautiful girl and know that he had ruined her. She was only five and ten and yet she carried with her the courage of a warrior. Perhaps he had driven her to it. Perhaps she had possessed it all along. All Jon knew for certain was that he loved her just as Brady must have loved her and he needed to see her through this.

Carefully removing his hand, Jon leaned in and pressed a kiss to her brow. Kill the boy. "I loved him," he murmured, fighting the emotion that threatened to consume him with all his might, "There was once a time where I thought I couldn't live without him. But we are made to endure, Nelly, and so will you... and your son."

Nelly didn't respond, she just went on staring at him in a manner that greatly unnerved him. Ignoring his misplaced fears, Jon bent down to retrieve the bow and carefully placed it in her hands, not shying away from her gaze. A Lord Commander didn't shy away.

"I know you know that he loved this bow," he said gently, "It is yours to do with as you will. He would have wanted you to have it."

Nelly dropped her gaze down to examine the fine weapon carefully, her small hands gliding over the wood. Suddenly, a look of childish wonder took her face and she looked almost timidly up at him. "I will give it to my son. He will be just as skilled as his father was."

"I'm certain that he will be," Jon agreed if only to ease her pain, or perhaps his own. Now came for the uncomfortable part and the Lord Commander did his best not to show how uneasy he felt. "Before Brady..." he hesitated, trying to find the right words and feeling them slip from his grasp repeatedly, "He...he asked me to see that you were looked after. As such, I'm going to send you to Oldtown. Sam-"

"No!" Nelly replied with such ferocity that Jon nearly found himself taking a step back.

"No?" he asked, perplexed. "Nelly, you can't survive on your own. I only mean to help."

"I need nobody's help," she explained heatedly, glancing back down at the bow, "I needed him, but he's gone now."

Just send the arrow right through my heart, he thought miserably. Every waking hour was just another reminder of his deed. He would never be able to hear Brady's laugh again or catch sight of the snowflakes melting in his blond hair just as they had with Robb the day he left Winterfell for good.

No Robb. No Brady.

Satin was all he had left.

"I want you to leave," Nelly said evenly.

Jon shook his head in protest. "But Nelly-"

She was already walking away, the light of the setting sun catching the top of her head and casting a beautiful glow to her retreating figure. Jon watched in silence until she had closed the door securely behind her. After that, there was nothing for him to do but mount his horse and leave. Satin would be waiting for him.

I tried, Brady, he reasoned, looking to the skies as he rode on, I tried. Forgive me.

 

[Juno]

[Completely unfinished/unedited and random Borphan. Idc. I will never ever ever stop writing them bite me. :B]

~​

"You scare me sometimes."

Even while gasping and sweating with a cock buried deep in his arse, Brady manages to regain his focus and look respectfully attentive. It warms Jon down to his very toes but he isn't ready to be swayed by the blond's docile mannerisms. Perhaps this is an inappropriate time to bring up his fears and doubts. After all, the current setup is one that requires very little room for discussion and a lot more movement.

To be fair, Jon is struggling with his body's primal urges to resume the building rhythm of their rocking forms but he wouldn't be Jon if he didn't have some semblance of control over himself. It's the Stark blood.

The dark curls that sit atop his head are disheveled and falling in his eyes, obscuring his view. The darkness of the room isn't much help to him either but he can see Brady well enough.

The young man is lying beneath him, looking equal parts beautiful and just as disheveled as Jon. His thin brows are furrowing in a way that Jon recognises. He often gets that look when he says something Brady doesn't agree with.

"What do you mean?" Brady asks. The lack of accusation and anger in his tone touches Jon but at the same time, he's disappointed. Sometimes his lover is simply too agreeable. It makes Jon feel like a heel for harbouring any fears at all.

When Brady tries to sit up, they bump noses gently and Jon steals a kiss that lingers fall longer than he would anticipate, but he only minds a little. He knows that if he goes on kissing Brady, he'll forget about everything else and most of the time, it's a tempting vice, but tonight is different. The darkness provides him with the best cover. He may lose his nerve in the light.

Brady's lips are soft and eager against his own and a groan rumbles somewhere deep in his throat as he forces them to part the slightest. He presses a fleeting kiss to the corner of the blond's lovely mouth and shakes his head.

"No."

This time, Brady isn't so agreeable. Jon can read the frown very easily and he feels his lover shift beneath him, forcing him to bite his lip. He is, after all, still inside of him.

"Jon, what's the matter?" Brady queries, looking both agitated and concerned.

Jon doesn't know how to go about talking about it. He's never really been good with words. Though, it is easier with Brady. If there's one thing he really values about their relationship (besides the fantastic sex), it's how open and accepting his lover is but at the same time, he isn't afraid to speak his mind if need be, which surprises Jon because he still remembers the shy boy he once trained in the old armoury.

"Jon?"

The sound of his name commands his attention and Jon finds himself gazing into the pale blue eyes he's so fond of. A soft sigh escapes him and he moves his hand from its position on the pillow to brush through the unruly blond locks, now somewhat damp with passion-induced sweat.

"Do you ever think that this is... just too good to be true?" he asks at last.

Brady takes a moment to digest Jon's words, the thoughtfulness clear as day in his eyes. "You mean, you and I?"

Jon nods slowly, almost ashamed by this admission. He pauses a moment, tracing the fine hairs of Brady's brows with his thumb before continuing. "Sometimes I think this is just one very long and elaborate dream and that I shall wake up any moment and you'll be gone. Like you never were..."

Somehow, hearing it said out loud makes the fear that much more real and Jon finds himself tensing. He doesn't want this to end. The Gods have already taken so much from him. A whole family and if they take Brady... Jon doesn't want to entertain such ideas but some nights it's all he can think of.

"Oh, my sweet steward."

It's Jon's turn to furrow his brows as he finds Brady's face, silently surprised to find him smiling. It's a faint smile but no less radiant than the sun. Sometimes Jon thinks that Brady is the sun. It's absurd, but he doesn't understand how one person can bring so much light and warmth back into his life. It's his inability to make sense of these things that heightens his fears. He can't lose Brady. He just can't.

"Why do you let fear run your life?" the blond asks in his gentlest voice, taking the hand resting on his brow and bringing it to his lips. Such soft lips, they make Jon stir restlessly.

"I would chase your fears away to the very end." Brady isn't looking at Jon. He's staring at their hands, intertwined and unbreakable. Or so Jon sees it. "If this is a dream, I will do everything in my power to ensure that you never wake up."

It's only after Brady looks up that Jon realises that he's holding his breath.

"You worry far too much, Jon Snow," Brady whispers, touching Jon's downturned lips briefly, "We are men of the Watch. Am I not your brother?"

Jon nods even slower than before, overcome with the sudden urge to bury himself in Brady's hair and rut himself to oblivion but he can't run now.

Brady fixes his gaze on their joint hands once more, slowly dragging a leg up and bending it at the knee. "I habour the same fears, Jon. I often wonder how life here at the Wall would be if you hadn't shown me such kindness. Or if... if you hadn't kissed me. Do you remember that? When you kissed me?"

Jon smiles despite himself. "How could I forget? I wanted to so badly and you looked so pretty and proud of how far you had come. And you smelled like..."

"Go on," Brady urges, curling his fingers through Jon's hair. It's enough to make his eyelids flutter in pleasure. He loves the feel of Brady's hands in his hair.

Jon moistens his lips and brings their linked hands to his nose, inhaling discreetly the scent that lulls him into a state of utter calm. "You smelled like water and you looked like summer and everything about you was beautiful and perfect and gods I wanted you so bad it hurt." Jon is tensing again, as if the memory of his fierce desires is overcoming his emotions and bringing him back to that desperate place.

The fingers in his hair are soothing as they massage meaningless patterns into his scalp. It takes a moment, but the tension in his muscles fades. Jon is quiet when his eyes find Brady's. The smile is gone and there's a look of silent consideration there that appears almost wise in contrast to his lover's obvious youth.

"I wanted you to kiss me," Brady admits, casting his eyes down in such a way that Jon assumes he must be feeling shy. Brady is so very sweet when he's shy. "It came to me all at once. I mean... There you were, handsome and kind and so strong. I couldn't for the life of me understand why Jon Snow would want to kiss an orphan with no name of his own."

Jon frowns, opening his mouth to protest but a look from Brady has him silencing himself.

"I know you love me," Brady concedes with a small smile, ruffling Jon's hair affectionately, "And I love you."

"The world doesn't want us to love each other," Jon adds negatively.

"Hang the world," Brady scowls, clutching at Jon's thick curls and shaking his head lightly in his grip, "You don't know what it's like to go from having nothing to having... everything."

Jon quirks a brow before dropping his gaze. "I'm not everything. I'm-...ah-!" The sharp tug to his hair gets his attention and Jon isn't all too surprised to see Brady glaring at him.

"Shut up," Brady hisses. The vice-like grip he has on Jon's hair is making the Steward's head ache something fierce and he lets forth a sigh of relief when Brady releases him and drags his fingers down his burning face. Jon opens his mouth to apologise but Brady won't allow it.

"I said shut up. You know nothing."

Jon shuts up.

"You're an idiot, if anything, Jon Snow. A beautiful idiot."

Jon wants to agree but he fears Brady's wrath and keeps his silence. The gentleness of his lover's touch is such a stark contrast to his anger and Jon hums appreciatively when the tips of the blond's fingers find his lips. Brady is fond of reminding him that he has nice lips. Jon has the good sense not to disagree.

The tightness in Brady's features relaxes but an expert clench of his arse reminds Jon that he isn't quite forgiven yet. "Idiot though you are, you're mine, Jon and I'll be damned if I let someone take you from me. Now believe me and stop being afraid and fuck me, damn you."

Jon doesn't have a chance to answer because Brady is tugging him in for a hot, open-mouthed kiss and before long he's moving again. Their slick bodies slide well against one another and Brady is making the most deliciously inhuman noises that Jon is forced to pull up and stare.

Brady groans out his frustration and Jon has to bite his lip to keep from outright laughing. For several moments their mouths merely brush together until Jon finds the right words.

"Yours," he pants.

Brady blinks and takes on a look of adorable confusion.

Jon presses a soft kiss to his lover's lower lip, gently guiding his hips forward all the while. "I'm yours," he clarifies, applying a firmer grip to the blond's silken-smooth thighs. "Till the day I die."

"Mm, don't talk about death now, lover," Brady whispers into Jon's searching mouth and when next they kiss, Jon closes his eyes and when he smells the water, he isn't afraid.

 

[Snow Danger]

I am in love with this pairing and nothing hurts

write them forever because you do it perfectly
okay plz thx bye

 

[Juno]

[Old]

~​

Jon missed it.

He missed all those times he'd lie awake and hear the soft pattering of her footsteps, knowing she was coming in to crawl between them. He missed how grubby her hands would get whenever he took her to the park. He missed how she always insisted that he sit with her and watch whatever was currently playing on tv. But most of all, he missed the way she would always look back when he dropped her off to school. Even from the distance he would see the rise of her shoulders as if she were fearful, but then she'd turn around and see him there and smile. He would never leave until she was safely inside the building.

She never looked back nowadays. She didn't have to.

He supposed every parent went through this ordeal at some point in their lives. He had known there would come a day where she would grow up and stop running to him for every little thing. For the most part, he was coping. This was his little girl, after all. He may not have taken any part in conceiving her but he had been there. He had watched her blossom into a beautiful young woman before his eyes, hardly able to believe that she was sixteen. Sixteen. Where had the years gone.

Evanna was definitely her father's daughter. She had the same slim, fair good looks. The same eyes. The same dimples. Even the same mind, though thankfully not as deadly. Jon didn't think he could handle living with two Bradys.

She was only a baby when he had met her. A bubbly, willful, adorable baby who had climbed onto his lap and declared that he was her new friend. Jon had loved her from the very start. He had plenty of experience with kids. Hell, Rickon had only been a little over two years older than Evanna and he had gotten along smashingly with him, but it had been different with Evanna. He had taken to her from the moment he had laid eyes on her.

His unfailing love for her father had only cemented their relationship. He was there to stay and for the past 13 years he had showed no signs of budging. On the contrary, he had married her young father and welcomed the custody that came with it. Evanna was his. If ever he had needed a reminder, Brady was there to give it to him.

Truth be told, he had taken on more of a parental role than Evanna's biological father ever could and with that came the good and the bad. Brady wasn't fit to discipline and so that burden had fallen on his shoulders. Jon wasn't very good at it himself. He always found himself softening whenever he looked into her big beautiful eyes and at times all it took was a well placed daddy and he knew he'd lost the battle. But there were times he refused to budge. She was a teenager and teenagers were stupid and reckless. Groundings had been frequent and each shouting match had ended with an angry "I hate you" before she stormed up to her room.

Jon had always known not to take her words to heart but it stung all the same. But then, she had always come to him and kissed his cheek by way of apology and he would forgive her. She was his baby.

She was Brady's baby too. At times, Jon found himself feeling jealous of their bond. It was stupid, he knew. They obviously shared something on a deeper level because they were blood but it was more than that. Brady was her best friend. He could remember all the times she had stretched herself out on the couch in his study, as if his very presence was enough to soothe her.

But he was the one she ran to when she just wanted a hug. He could never deny her a hug. They did the groceries together. Sometimes she helped him fold the laundry for the hell of it. They both fawned over the dogs in ways Brady never would.

She had gone from being the daughter who always looked back to the daughter who never looked back. He was losing her to the world and it was killing him. He hated it.

Jon missed it. He missed her.

Which was why he had stood by the door far longer than he had intended. She had come down, dressed to the nines and smiling a smile he barely recognised. She was a teenager, he had reminded himself. All teenagers had their secrets. Even Brady didn't pry. Well, he didn't have to. If he saw things, he kept them to himself.

She had offered him a brief goodbye and walked out the door. Jon had watched her climb into a car he had seen several times. It wasn't her company that worried him. She hadn't even waved goodbye.

And so he stood there, a handsome man for his 39 years. There were no greys in his hair yet (thank God) and the harsh lines that came with time had mostly evaded him. It was his eyes that gave away his age. They looked tired more than half the time. So incredibly tired.

After what seemed like an eternity, Jon finally pulled himself away from the door and made for the living room. Brady was out doing things that geniuses did and he had the house to himself. Sirius and Drexl trotted downstairs and brushed past his feet. The dogs had come to sense his loneliness. They knew him well.

He had barely sat down when he heard the front door open. He rose to his feet and wasn't all too surprised to see Evanna looking a little flushed but mostly unconcerned.

"Forgot my phone," she explained.

"Oh," he said and nodded. He had expected her to dash upstairs and promptly take her leave but he noticed that she lingered there for a few moments, her pale blue eyes narrowed slightly. Jon was struck by how much she resembled her father whenever she read him. Jon hated that. He didn't want all of his loved ones playing mind games but he had no real control over it. Besides, she wasn't nearly as good as Brady when it came to seeing things. Thank the heavens for that.

Jon watched her walk upstairs and sighed softly. He bent over to scratch behind Drexl's ears and by the time he rose, Evanna was standing before him. His brows lifted inquiringly and to his complete surprise, she was hugging him. At first, he wasn't sure of what to do. Had someone said something to hurt her? He'd kill them.

"Evie?" he called softly, brushing his fingers through her dark blonde hair, "What's wrong?"

Evanna was smiling when she pulled away, a smile that tugged at his heartstrings in ways only a father could understand. She shook her head and shrugged her slender shoulders. "Nothing. I just forgot to hug you. That's all."

Jon didn't know what to say. He tucked her hair behind her ears and pressed a loving kiss to her forehead. "You got your phone?"

She held the obscenely expensive hunk of plastic up for him to see to which he nodded and gave her his most parental look of all. "Don't stay out too late. Your curfew-"

"Is midnight," she concluded, rolling her eyes, "I know, I know. I'm not a baby. Jeez."

No you're not. That's the problem.

Jon released her and walked her back to the door, the dogs following behind him eagerly. As always, he watched to make sure she got safely into the car. She reached for the door-handle and surprised him for the second time that night. Jon felt his breath catch in his throat.

His daughter turned her head and waved at him.

Jon lifted a hand and waved back and then she was off. She wasn't a baby. Not anymore, but she was and would always be his little girl.

 

[Juno]

[No definite end to this story as always but eh. I never do find workable ends. Anyway, more Jon/Brady. ;P]

~​

Jon didn't know why Theon kept trying after failing as many times as he had. If there was one thing he had to grudgingly admire about his brother's hack of a friend, it was that he was persistent and nauseatingly so. It had easily been three years since he'd been trying to get Brady to bend over for him and the blond had shown no signs of agreeing. It was both hilarious and painful to watch.

Jon had known Brady even longer than he had known Theon Greyjoy. He had been tossed around foster care for ages and somehow managed to turn out all right. Brady was a year younger than them but no less mature where the likes of he and Robb were concerned. Theon didn't count.

When he had been six years old and Brady five, Jon had fallen off the jungle gym and skinned the holy hell out of his knee. Even at that age he had tried desperately to maintain some control over his masculinity and had fought the tears vehemently, but nevertheless some had spilled onto his grubby cheeks despite his best efforts.

Old nan had been busy trying to get Robb out of a nearby tree and in the end, it had been Brady who had come to comfort him. At first, Jon had thought it was a girl who was approaching him and had recoiled into himself. Jon hadn't liked girls very much. They made him nervous and this one looked like all those drawings he had seen in the fairy tales old Nan tried to get them to read.

But this girl had been different as well, dressed like a boy and looking completely unbothered by the steady flow of blood trickling down Jon's leg.

"Ouch. You should clean that up and put a band-aid on it." The voice had been childish but distinctly male and the six year old Jon had been more confused than ever.

"I don't have a band-aid," he had replied resentfully, feeling even more miserable now that there was someone there to witness his tears.

"I do," the boy-who-looked-like-a-girl had piped up.

Jon had watched with a great deal of caution and suspicion that would follow him well into his years as the other boy had reached into the pocket of his jeans and retrieved both a hanky and a band-aid.

Jon had wanted to tell him to stay away and not touch him but the gentleness in which the boy cleaned him up had made him forget all about his pain and misery. Besides, the band-aid had been a ninja turtles band-aid. Jon liked the ninja turtles.

"I'm Brady," the girly-boy had said as he helped the wobbly Jon to his feet. "What's your name?"

Jon had grinned and revealed a full set of baby teeth. "Jon Snow."

After that, the friendship had been sealed.

From then on, Brady had been a regular part of their lives. He wasn't wealthy like the Starks or the Greyjoys for that matter, but he was a good kid and even Catelyn had seemed impressed with his docile nature and polite mannerisms.

They didn't go to the same school but Jon had seen enough of Brady over the years to consider him a friend. He was like the little brother he could occasionally get drunk with. He was as close to the blond as Robb was to Theon. Robb and Theon had their football and their basketball and their own little following of cheerleaders and jocks and anybody who was anybody hailed them the Kings of their juvenile castle.

Jon wouldn't have called him unpopular. Everyone knew him. Everyone knew that he was Robb Stark's half-brother and everyone knew not to pick fights with him on the ice. Jon Snow was easily the most vicious hockey player Horace Mann had ever seen and this was a reputation he had no qualms in living up to.

And Brady was... Well, Jon didn't know much about Brady's school life. All he knew for certain was that occasionally he'd spot the blond stretched out on the bleachers of their school with a half-smoked cigarette dangling between his lips. Brady was alarmingly fond of getting high and while Jon would find himself indulging here and there, he worried about the path his friend was taking. If he kept it up, he'd be following the yellow-brick road right into rehab.

Theon didn't help. Jon could recall a time when he had attempted to use weed as a means of getting laid but Brady was a little more clever than people gave him credit for. Jon was grateful for that.

It was at one of Robb and Theon's many pointless parties that Jon found himself engaged in a conversation heavily influenced by the amount of alcohol he had consumed. Of course, he wasn't completely drunk yet but he was getting there.

Theon had just spent the last hour dry-humping any girl who came within a foot of him and there were plenty of girls, none of whom minded his lecherous advances. Popularity. Jon just didn't understand it, nor did he want to.

Robb was being considerably more reserved and Jon knew why. With Jeyne around, his brother had toned down his wild ways and Theon would never let him hear the end of it. For someone who hated the idea of commitment, Theon was sure as hell trying real hard to get Brady's attention, Jon thought to himself. Then again, he figured Brady was just another challenge that Greyjoy didn't intend to lose.

Jon leaned his head against the nearest wall with a deep sigh. The room was starting to spin and he figured he'd ease up on beer before he retched all over Catelyn's precious carpet. He didn't need to give the woman another reason to hate him, though by now he had more or less stopped caring all together.

Ygritte and Satin were noticeably absent and he had Robb to thank for that. Jon had never been good with breakups and though Satin wasn't totally batshit like Ygritte, it was still awkward as hell.

"Oy, look at him sitting there. Smug little git, isn't he?"

Jon quirked a brow and followed Theon's gaze, none too surprised to find himself staring at Brady.

The blond was seated on a couch that normally held four people at best but had at least 10 kids hanging off of it by now. A pretty brunette was straddling the blond's lap and was in the process of sticking her tongue down his throat. Nelly, he thought her name was. Jon couldn't say for sure. Brady had his own crew of stoner chicks who liked their men burned out and pretty.

"Lay off, Greyjoy," Robb advised, looking supremely tired for someone who was essentially the host of this little shindig.

"I don't know who he's trying to fool fucking all these girls," Theon continued, taking generous gulps from his beer can and promptly crushing it and tossing it aside without a care, "Everyone knows it's the cock he's after."

Jon frowned, not quite following Theon's brand of logic but he rarely ever did. "How do you figure?"

"He's too pretty to want the cunt," Theon explained mildly, "Just look at Satin."

Jon blanched, looking quite scandalized by this argument. "Being pretty doesn't make you a poof, you know."

"But existing still makes you a bastard, Snow," Theon shot, smiling that cocky smile that always drove Jon up the wall.

Jon set his can down and started for the arrogant shit but before he could unleash his frustrations all over Greyjoy's face, he felt a strong hand pull him back and squeeze in a manner that was both authoritative and comforting. Robb. It was obviously Robb.

"Calm down," his brother soothed quietly before turning to Theon with a frown, "I told you to lay off. You're just as much a poof as Satin is."

Jon's mouth fell open and Theon's laughter echoed his reaction. Robb looked somewhere between wanting to laugh and wanting to punch Theon and before long, Jon was smiling because hang it all, they were all poofs at some point in their lives.

When Jon looked back on the incident, he couldn't say for sure what had sparked it but he knew damn well that he didn't regret a single thing.

Towards the end of the night when Jon had stumbled up to his room in search of a clean shirt because Ygritte had spilled beer all over him in a fit of rage, he had been in the middle of changing when a soft knock at the door had gotten his attention.

Brady stood there, looking the picture of calm, leaning his weight on one long leg. He was wearing oversized clothes and a very large rosary which always struck Jon as odd because as far as he knew, Brady wasn't the least bit religious. He had never asked. Some things were best left a mystery.

"Hey," Jon called, tugging the shirt down and tossing the dirty one into the nearby hamper.

Brady leaned against the door, idly running a hand through his long hair. "You all right?"

Jon snorted, nodding in spite of himself. "Yeah, yeah. My pride can handle its daily dose of Ygritte's craziness."

"Nah, I mean your shirt. You liked that shirt."

Jon stared at Brady, unsure of whether he was being serious or merely kidding around. It was hard to tell with Brady, he had but one facial expression. A permanent mask of indifference that made plenty of people uneasy. Jon wasn't too worried. If Brady was a raging serial killer in the making, he would have known.

"You came up here to check in on the condition of my shirt?" he asked incredulously.

"Nah," Brady sighed, stepping into the room with a rather fatigued look about him, "Nelly left and Theon was getting a little too antsy for my liking."

"Seven fucking hells, the guy has no shame."

Brady nodded in agreement, folding his thin arms across his chest. "Suppose I ought to be flattered."

"But you're not," Jon said, almost daring him to deny it.

"Not a bit," Brady agreed, settling himself down on Jon's springy bed.

Jon joined him and stared at the open door, still able to hear the party commencing downstairs. Shouts and laughter rang throughout the manor but he payed it no real mind. The other Starks were out of state for the weekend which was good news considering the fuss Catelyn would have made.

Jon turned to eye Brady who was busy rolling a spliff. He studied his delicate hands closely, noticing for the first time how long and slender the fingers were. Well, everything about Brady was long and slender and Jon found himself recalling Theon's words. Too pretty he had said and Jon had to silently agree. Brady was very pretty.

"You ever been with a guy before?" he asked out of nowhere, looking quite shocked to find that the words had come out of his mouth. Luckily for him, the blond hardly looked offended or put off by this private inquiry into his sex life.

Brady paused, considering the question for a moment. He fixed Jon with an inscrutable look. "Honestly?"

Jon nodded.

"No," Brady replied at once, staring at the rolled up joint in his hand.

Jon nodded once more, unsure of what to say. "Oh," he added awkwardly, rubbing a hand over the back of his sweaty neck, "So you're totally straight, huh?"

Brady glanced up and saw that Jon was smiling. Of course, he was only jesting and didn't really expect a response but the blond surprised him. "Maybe," he shrugged, "Maybe not. Only one way to find out."

Jon had very little time to evaluate the weight of the blond's words for pretty soon Brady was leaning forward and before he could so much as blink, he felt soft lips claim his own in a tentative kiss.

Jon heard someone gasp and was pretty sure it was him but Brady took it all in stride and pressed his lips against Jon's a little more insistently until he felt himself giving in. He could blame it on the alcohol but it seemed as though invisible strings were tugging at his arms and forcing one of them to wrap around Brady's slim waist while his other moved upwards to cup the blond's chin.

Kissing Brady was a lot like kissing Satin but... well... better. But Jon berated himself the second the thought crossed his mind. He found it in himself to push gently at the blond's chest until they separated. "Wait, wait... what are you doing?" he panted, almost wishing he hadn't opened his eyes.

Brady looked sexy as sin with his cheeks all flushed and his pink lips glistening with Jon's saliva. His pale blue eyes were narrowed and bright and damn it all it was making Jon painfully hard.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Brady licked his lips and Jon had to bite back a groan because he could clearly see that the blond was tasting him. Seven hells, he thought. This is dangerous.

"Experimenting?" Brady answered at last, leaning forward once more. He placed a hand on Jon's chest and the dark haired boy was certain he would be able to feel his heart thumping madly. "You don't like it...?" he asked, biting his lower lip and effectively shooting tremors down Jon's cock.

Jon had no response and Brady wasted no time in using this to his advantage. "If you want me to stop, I will," he explained, his face so close that Jon could feel his warm breath ghosting over his cheek.

Jon did have time to weigh in the consequences. He had plenty of time because he knew that Brady would never force himself on him but at that moment all he could do was stare at the beautiful curve of the blond's throat and how pale and smooth his skin looked and wonder what lay beneath the layers of all that cotton and denim. He knew right then that he wanted to put his cock in Brady's mouth and his arse and anywhere else it could possibly go.

Without any indication, Jon claimed his friend's mouth in a heated kiss and was delighted to find Brady returning it with added fervor. He slid back onto the bed once the blond moved to straddle him and groaned helplessly into Brady's open mouth when he felt their clothed cocks brush together. At least he knew that Brady was just as hard as he was. He cupped the blond's arse as he bounced and ground atop him, making Jon's head spin out of control.

They were still kissing hard when Brady gripped Jon's shoulders and squeezed, pulling away to get a few crucial words in.

"Do you want to fuck me?" the blond asked suddenly. And there it was. No beating around the bush. The gods bless Brady and his honesty.

Jon knew he should have shaken his head and put an end to this before it got out of hand and they fucked up their friendship for good but his dick was completely disagreeing with his good sense and Jon couldn't fight his dick. He nodded dumbly and squeezed Brady's tiny arse in his hands. "Yes," he said breathlessly, "God, yes."

Brady smiled and pressed a hot little kiss to Jon's lips. "Then take off your clothes."

Jon hadn't been able to strip fast enough. He had held Brady's naked body to himself and shuddered so violently that the blond had been concerned about his well-being. Being as inexperienced as he was, Brady had allowed Jon to guide him as he saw fit which was a welcome change from Ygritte's repetitive notions of him knowing nothing and even Satin's never-ending desire to take control of their sex life. Jon appreciated the control he finally had over another person and Brady was both eager and trusting. It made Jon feel like a man.

Sliding inside of Brady had been a slow and almost painful affair. Well, painful for Brady, torturous for Jon. He had never in his short life felt anything so hot and tight and wonderful as the blond's arse. Every inch of the velvety tunnel was like being engulfed by fresh moss. He felt as though his cock was being crushed but in the most pleasant way imaginable.

The sex had been slow and far more passionate than Jon would have anticipated. Brady was like something out of the perfect porno. His blunt nails felt like fire running down his back and he would even go so far as to grab Jon's arse and tug willfully when wanting him to thrust deeper. His kisses tasted like cigarettes and something sweet that Jon couldn't trace but wanted more of.

With every push of his hips, Jon could only think the same thing over and over again. I'm fucking my friend. I'm fucking my friend. I'm fucking my friend.

But then Brady would pull him in for another mind-boggling, desperate, fiery kiss that would practically sear his lips right off and Jon wouldn't care. Brady felt right under him. Jon was certain that his cock was made for this arse and that their mouths were meant to meet and meet and meet again.

Afterwards, he had lain in bed, sweaty and sticky but completely content. The smoke rings Brady blew into the air looked like ghostly apparitions and Jon had even gotten his own nicotine fix when sealing his lips to the blond's and accepting his little puffs.

"Theon is going to kill me," Jon had said, lying in the dark and staring up at the ceiling listlessly.

"No he won't," Brady had reasoned calmly, leaning over to flick the ashes off on a tissue, "I'll throw in a pity fuck to get him off both our backs."

Jon had turned to look at him and laughed and Brady had joined him, the sound boyish and carefree, carrying itself past the walls of the manor and out into the October air.

If someone had told him right then and there that he was in fact sharing a laugh with his future husband, he would have called them crazy, but it was Brady. A part of him realised many years later that it had always been Brady and from the moment that he had said his vows and placed the band on the blond's finger, he had understood. Brady was his then, Brady was his now and Brady was his always.

It had begun with a ninja turtles band-aid and Jon could only hope that it ended with the simultaneous beating of their hearts until they could beat no more.

 

[Snow Danger]

omg the way you write them is so sweet and perfect and omg

just

 

[Juno]

[Old]

Brady had never been very affectionate. Jon had learned this the hard way. The last three years had just been a series of fleeting kisses and quick fucks with some tenderness here and there, but the love was undeniable. They wouldn't have lasted this long if not for the love.

But tonight, Jon wasn't having any of it. He had an oddly compliant Brady wrapped up tightly in his arms. The strong smell of smoke plagued him every time he inhaled and it was a nasty reminder that he didn't need. But he was okay. Brady was okay.

He couldn't have counted the number of times the blond had put himself in a dangerous situation. Jon understood that it came with the territory. When dating the world's leading expert in deception, one had to come to live with certain things and coupled with his boyfriend's innate ability to piss the general populace off, he knew it would be one hell of a bumpy ride.

Had he had his doubts? Absolutely. There have been several sleepless nights where he had turned onto his side and wondered when or if his boyfriend would walk through the door and creep in next to him. It seemed as though with every year that passed, the danger only increased. He was a wanted man. If it wasn't the NYPD it was the FBI. And Brady had never had any real regard for following the rules. He made his own rules and the world had to bend to his will. And when it didn't...

Despite everything, they had done well for themselves. Jon with his law-school and Brady with his... everything. The subject of marriage had not yet been broached. Jon knew it would still be a while before they were ready for that kind of commitment but he would have been lying if he said he didn't want it. He did. For once, Jon wanted something that was completely his and his alone, but he knew that no signed document could give that to him. Brady's heart might have belonged to him but that mind... That brilliant mind was meant to be shared with the world and Jon had no right to stop him. No matter how badly he wanted a normal life.

But they were together and they were raising little Evanna. If anything, that had been love at first sight. Jon could vividly recall his first meeting with the little girl he loved above all others and even now, three years later, that feeling never really went away. Just the other night she had fallen asleep on him and mumbled a sleepy 'daddy' that stopped his heart. He knew he should have corrected her. Should have said, 'No, baby, your daddy's not home yet. I'm your Jon.' But he hadn't and he probably never would.

He had spent the last three years falling in love with Brady over and over again. He was stubborn and rude and invasive and Jon felt utterly naked around him all the time but underneath all that, Jon saw. He didn't care how hard Brady tried to hide it but he saw all right. He saw a young man who could have done anything with his life and chose to help other people in his own unique way. Past that mask of indifference, he knew that Brady was just a kid who still needed to be reminded that he didn't need to do everything on his own. That he was loved and it was okay to lean on someone.

Jon didn't know every detail of his boyfriend's life. At times, he could have counted him a stranger but he couldn't and wouldn't pry. When Brady was ready to tell him, he'd be there with open arms. All he knew for certain was that Brady had let him in and Jon didn't intend to screw that up. He had his boyfriend's heart in his hands and he would take care of it. He would take care of him.

Which was why tonight he needed to hold him. Brady's tattered shirt was flapping in the wind and his pale face was covered in soot and Jon knew he had to let go and allow the paramedics to do their job but he needed this. He was shaking so hard he thought he'd never stop. The last hour had been sheer hell and then that explosion...

For 10 minutes Jon had thought that he'd finally lost Brady to his recklessness. That the big guy upstairs had finally decided that his luck had run out and that Jon didn't deserve to be happy. The tears had flowed freely and his heart had hurt so bad he didn't think he would make it home alive. But then he had seen a lone figure stumbling out of the wreckage and his knees had nearly given in. His boyfriend had staggered towards him with that bad ankle of his and Jon had been inconsolable.

He could feel all eyes on them. Brady always hated public displays of affection and he knew they were going to try to pry his arms off of the young genius but right now, he needed this. And so he held him, rocking Brady's thin body gently in his arms. To his surprise, his boyfriend's formally limp limbs tentatively wrapped around him and Jon nearly felt his control shatter again.

No. He had cried enough.

He pressed a furious kiss to the top of Brady's impossibly messy hair and pulled away, gazing at that soot-covered face with anger and love and relief. "I thought I'd lost you," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion.

Brady didn't say anything for a while. No one could make him talk until he was good and ready. He reached out and gently ran his bleeding fingers through Jon's curly hair before tightening his hold. He tugged gently and Jon was forced to move to his will until their faces were mere centimeters apart. Brady's pale blue eyes shined brightly through all the dirt. "Not tonight," he amended quietly, "Not ever."

In other words: I love you and I'm sorry.

 

[Juno]

[Old]

Touch

"Are you okay?" Jon is busy assessing the damage to his face but Brady has long forgotten the pain. Who is this guy and why is he touching him? It's only after he leaves that Brady realises he liked it.

Ache

Jon knows that feeling well. He aches when he's eaten too much. He aches if he pushes himself extra hard during a workout. He aches if his pants are too tight. But this is a different kind of ache. It's a glimpse of gold out of the corner of his eye and it aches. It aches real bad.

Sway

He moves like the wind when he wants to. Jon has seen him lose himself plenty of times in the rhythm of the music and later that day when he has him pushed up against the nearest wall, Jon realises that he knows how to sway too.

Reality

"In an alternate reality, we'd be soldiers."

"Watchers."

"And guard this giant fortress."

"A Wall."

"And I'd be a bastard and you'd be an orphan."

"And you'd rise in the ranks and fuck up everyone's shit."

"And you'd be right there beside me."

"Your sidekick."

"No. My better half."

Chocolate

Just let it melt, they say. Jon has and he's busy watching his sticky fingers disappear between a pair of pink lips. Brady isn't particularly fond of sweets, he knows, but when Jon puts his mind to something, he can make anything good and right now, a chocolate covered finger is about as good at it gets.

Furniture

Desks, tables, chairs, kitchen counters. Jon has fucked him anywhere and everywhere. Brady thinks it's time the Starks did a little redecorating. The furniture is starting to look a little used.[/b]

"What's this smear?" Catelyn asks.

Jon stifles his laughter and heads off in search of Pledge Furniture Spray.

Baby

"Baby..." Jon rasps, panting and sweating with his forehead pressed evenly against Brady's. He's not yet 16 and Jon has the sudden urge to cradle him protectively in his arms. "Baby," he repeats as he pulls him down.

Pain

There's pain. There's always pain when Jon enters him. It's no different this time and he's fighting the hurt as hard as he always does but then Jon hushes him with a kiss and he knows it's not a battle he has to fight on his own.

Scars

Later, when he's busy buttoning up, he catches sight of the fading bruises on his collarbone. His fingers brush over the one on his neck. "Last Tuesday." He traces the one just above his left nipple. "Sunday before last." He finds the most recent and sees the imprint of Brady's even teeth, smiling fondly. "23 minutes ago."

Worship

"And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me."

Brady is smiling, not because he's naked and sprawled out onto the bed like a human buffet, not because he can feel thick curls tickling the inside of his thighs.

"The Bible?"

"Shh. I'm at worship," he says and eats the bread of his boyfriend's body.

Kiss

His kisses leave him breathless. There's passion and desperation and sometimes he gets the feeling it's the last he'll see of him. But Jon always comes back for more and Brady relinquishes his fears to the perfect harmony of their moving mouths.

Hair

He denies his obsession but Brady knows. It's all those times he's grabbed an umbrella on the way out 'just in case'. It's the foreign products that keep the dark curls glistening and styled to perfection. Jon hates it when people touch his hair but tonight, he's murmuring appreciatively as Brady threads his fingers through the beautiful mop.

Love

Jon is the first thing he thinks of when he hears the word love. He doesn't expect him to feel the same way but his heart skips a beat whenever Jon slips his arms around his waist and whispers the "I love you" he never tires of hearing.

Death

He's 16 and a lot less concerned with such finalities. He doesn't brood over things like Jon does. He knows they all have to go at some point but a part of him hopes and prays that his time comes before Jon's.

Thunder

"I hate thunder," he grumbles.

The corner of Jon's lips twitch threateningly. The world outside is cold and grey and the thunder booms loud enough to scare the holy hell out of Brady. Jon doesn't laugh. He's too busy taking Brady into his arms and holding him close. "Don't worry," he reassures softly, "It's just the Gods bowling. Everyone knows that."

Brady can only snort and nuzzle his face into his boyfriend's chest. "You know nothing, Jon Snow."

Hunger

"Have some more," he urges.

Brady rolls his eyes and helps himself to another slice - his fourth. Jon's always forcing food on him like the fussy mother he's never had. He has to remind himself that it's in Jon's nature to worry and the second Jon stops will be the day he has to worry.

"Here have my frie-"

"No!"

Face

"You're really too cute for your own good."

Jon opens his mouth to protest but he knows anything he says will just fall on deaf ears. Besides, he's too busy trying to pry his boyfriend's hands off of his cheeks.

"Such a cute face. You're like the puppy I always wanted."

For a second, Jon is too shocked to say anything but he doesn't have time to formulate a scathing response because Brady's kissing him and Jon has to kiss back. Something about his pretty face compels him.

Bliss

"When he takes my hand unexpectedly just because he wants to. Even under the table. I remember this one time we were watching a scary movie and he grabbe-"

"I did no such thing."

"You so did."

"You're mistaking me for someone else."

"Jon's clinginess. That's bliss."

"When I wake up and see him asleep beside me. He barks in his sleep."

"I do not!"

"Okay, he doesn't. But... he looks like an angel."

"Smells like teen spirit."

"That you do. But um, I guess... Just being with him. That's bliss."

"Right back at ya, Jonny."

"Don't call me that."

 

[Juno]

From an unsent letter to Jon Snow

~​

Dear Jon,

I don't know why I'm writing this because I know you'll never read it and that's probably for the best. I've never been brave like you and I sure as hell don't plan on ruining this friendship because you are my best friend and I've come to accept the idea that that's all you'll ever be. Don't get me wrong, I'm not really that bitter. I like being your friend because you trust me and tell me things you wouldn't tell anyone else and it's been like that since we were single digits. Can you believe it's been a decade? And you know what really strikes me as odd? We never really fought. I saw you fight with Robb and everyone fought with Theon but you and I, I don't think we ever did. If I'm mistaken, it's because I don't remember and all the good times override the bad.

Do you remember that time we built that huge fort in Robb's room? And Theon kept trying to turn it into a boat but we all wanted the fort and it was so fucking big, dude. Everything we made was ginormous in those days. And remember when you got Ghost? You were so excited and Theon kept making fun of him because he wouldn't make any noises but you thought that was pretty cool and so did I. Ghost wasn't the runt of the litter, he was just different. He stood out because he was special. Like you, Jon. You've always been extra special and it kinda sucks that you don't see this.

I'm writing this on my bed and trying real hard not to burn the paper. It wouldn't matter if I did. It's all in my head. It'll always be in my head. Every time I look at you I feel funny and it's so trippy. So fucking trippy that I couldn't explain it but I'll try anyway. It's like when you're high you feel like you could accomplish anything and when you laugh you can't stop laughing and it's amazing but a part of you still knows that you're high because of the drugs. With you it's a different kind of high. It takes me places I can't get to when snorting coke and the like. It's like being real little and visiting your favourite place over and over again. That's what it feels like when we hang out because you're there and you're just about the prettiest thing I've ever seen. You'd probably frown at me for saying that but it's true. Sometimes I'm with you and I feel so happy I think I might cry and that sounds really stupid, right? This is why you can never see this haha.

But it isn't always rainbows and unicorns. It hurts too. I get that you want to date. Anyone does, right? I'm not mad. I could never really be mad at you for something like that. I just wish I lived in a world where I could tell my best friend that I was hopelessly, truly, madly, deeply, completely in love with him and he'd be okay with it. But I don't. I can't tell you because you're my best friend and I think I'd die inside if you weren't. I can't let how I feel come between this because I want to be there when you're getting married or holding your kid or playing seniors hockey or something. I want to be friends forever, just like we used to say when we were kids.

Do you remember when Robb wanted to make that blood pact but I was too scared of cutting myself and Theon started making fun of me but you stepped in and said that I didn't have to if I didn't want to because who wanted Greyjoy blood in them anyway. That was great. You're always sticking up for me. Sometimes you even try to fight my battles for me but I guess you all do that. Even Theon, that twat.

I love all three of you. I have to include the other two because though they might not be as close to me as you are, we still signed the fucking pact and we're all blood brothers. Which is why I don't get it when Theon says he wants to be inside of me. He's already there.

This is a lot longer than I thought it would be but I think once I start writing and talking about all of this, I don't know how to stop. I think I loved you before I knew what love was. You were my first real friend and that day when you asked old nan if I could come over to play was the best day of my life. I didn't even know how to be a friend but I guess with you it came naturally. I still don't know what made me approach you the way I did but I guess you looked so lonely and hurt that I wanted to make it better. I still want to make it better. Every time you get hurt, I want to put a band-aid on all the wounds and take the pain away. But I don't know how to do that. We're not little kids anymore. We're teenagers and the world is a different place.

I love you, Jon. I wish with all my heart that I could tell you and be with you because I swear on my life I'd never hurt you and I'd make you smile and protect you because you deserve to be happy. You've been making me happy all these years so it's only fair.

I guess that's it. Maybe some day I'll be brave enough to tell you how I feel but I wouldn't hold out much hope. Anyway, I should probably try and get some sleep if I expect to make it to my classes tomorrow. I know you're sleeping right now. I wonder what you're dreaming about. I'm hoping I dream of you.

Sooo corny but that's how I roll. You're used to it by now.

Love,

Brady

 

[Juno]

[Old]

The halls of the house are quite wide, he notices for the first time. They're wide and nicely furnished because Catelyn won't have it any other way and the Starks have always had money to spend on such trivialities. He's not a Stark. Not really. But Jon doesn't have time to brood over his parentage because Brady's golden head is coming into view. When he stops in front of him, there's no hugging or kissing. It's a mutual agreement between them to lay low until they're really alone. Jon can get very creative but tonight he just wants some action really bad and Brady doesn't even have to ask because it's not long before they find themselves in a walk in closet, door locked securely behind them.

Jon wants a blowjob really bad. For months now he's been wanking hard to the thought of how his boyfriend's mouth fits around him like a perfect little glove. His mouth is hot and accommodating and very good at bringing him to mind-numbing release if he remembers well. He'll fuck him too, this is certain. He'll fuck him all night long and then again in the morning and as many times as he wants after that.

Brady isn't the kind to just drop to his knees without a second thought and in spite of how hard he already is, he admires that about him. Brady is a constant reminder that this is the longest relationship he's been in and he intends to keep it for as long as he can. He's only 17 but when he looks into those blue eyes, forever isn't so scary a thought after all.

Brady touches his lips to Jon's for a second and whispers out in a voice that Jon has fantasized about on far too many sleepless nights.

"I missed you, Jonny."

Jon swallows and nods. He doesn't feel awkward or tense, well, at least not where it matters. "I missed you too." He doesn't even care that Brady called him Jonny. He's too horny to care.

There isn't more to be said. Not yet, in any case. They are young and some things take precedent over others, sex being one of them.

The blond's lips are like velvet and his touch is as hauntingly gentle as Jon remembers. When Brady works down his torso to his very obvious bulge, Jon's zipping his lips because Catelyn has got impeccable hearing and he doesn't fancy having his little piece of heaven interrupted by the bitter harpy.

Brady holds him delicately in his hand but there's nothing delicate about his mouth-work. The guy's pretty messy with the oral and Jon's got to admit, his cock sliding in and out of Blondie's mouth is the most obscene sight he's ever witnessed. The sight of Brady sucking him off is like something out of his more erotic fantasies and that coupled with the sounds of his dutiful slurping has Jon planting his hand firmly against the wall before his knees give in. He almost wants to look away but he has learned quickly that sometimes it just isn't possible.

He knows full-well how he tastes after the result of boyish curiosity and often ponders how Brady likes it. If he doesn't, he's kept that to himself and Jon couldn't be anymore grateful. Brady has a habit of making him feel like a real catch. It's love, he realises, not for the first time. Jon loves him too. He can't really help himself.

When he comes, it's a muffled sort of groan that doesn't go very far but the indents of teeth on his knuckles do. And pretty soon he's sprawled over a carpeted floor with six inches of circumcised goodness in place. Jon doesn't consider himself a pro at cock sucking so the act in itself is rare but each time he gets a look at his significant other, he's reminded of just why the heck he bothers.

Brady is a vision with his flushed cheeks and rosy lips, always semi-parted to let forth sounds that make Jon want to dirty his boxers. When Brady is finished, Jon swallows but doesn't move. He rests his stubbled chin on the boy's naked stomach and begins tracing the tip of his tongue around an adorable belly button. Brady likes it when he doesn't shave. He says the extra hair makes him look sexy but Jon has the nagging suspicion that he just wants to add on the years. People are often fond of reminding him that he looks about 12 years old on a good day.

Jon hums a nameless tune and blows gently against the damp skin of his boyfriend's stomach. He can't see it but he knows Brady is smiling in that usual calm manner that far exceeds his years. It's something they have in common, he knows. Boyish and lost one moment and wise and troubled the next. It's in the eyes. They both have expressive eyes.

"We still up for that dinner date, Jonny?"

Jon doesn't respond right away. He's too busy doing nothing at all. It's a strange thing for him to be lying in such cramped quarters, sticky and languid but he figures this is the best it'll get for him and he's okay with that. Nay, he loves that. He has come home and right now, home is where he wants to be.

So Jon presses a kiss to Brady's stomach and smiles a rare smile. "Nah. We're fine where we are."

 

[Juno]

[Old]

~​

"I like it."

"I hate it."

Jon didn't reply right away. He was too busy inspecting Brady's hair. His fingers glided smoothly through the blond strands which was virtually unheard of. Yeah, she had definitely cut it shorter than usual. He wasn't even getting tangled up in the rat's nest like he would have before. Still, he stood behind his initial opinion.

"I like it," he repeated, brushing a few stray locks off of Brady's forehead, "And since when are you so concerned with how you look?"

"Oh, ever since I started dating you, Jon," Brady replied promptly, "You inspire me to look my best."

The sarcasm was not missed but Jon found himself smiling nevertheless. He could finally see Brady's cute ears and for once his pretty face wasn't hidden behind the disheveled curtain he called hair. He looked, if Jon was going to be completely honest, like a boy. A sweet little boy. The look was already growing on him.

He dropped his hand onto Brady's slender shoulder and squeezed lightly. "You look adorable."

Brady furrowed his brow, clearly unconvinced. "Whatever. It'll grow."

Jon was thoroughly amused. Brady had been carded plenty of times in the past and it could only get worse with this new do. They made quite the pair and right about now, he couldn't have been any more fond of his boyfriend.

Brady fixed him with a thoroughly withering look. "What?"

"Nothing," Jon replied with a shake of his head. He slipped his arms around the blond's slim waist and tugged him close. "I'm just falling in love with you all over again."

If Brady was surprised, he didn't show it though the muscles in his face had relaxed somewhat. He puffed out his cheeks and leaned in close enough so that their noses rubbed briefly. "Where's Evanna?"

"Ben took her to the park. Sooo... We're-"

"Alone," he concluded.

Jon could tell that he was thinking about something but unlike Brady, he didn't have the uncanny ability to piece things together and so he waited for his boyfriend to voice his thoughts.

"I'm tired," Brady stated in a quieter tone and sure enough there were dark circles lining his pale blue eyes and Jon had the distinct urge to kiss the weariness away.

"Lie with me?" the blond asked in an uncharacteristically boyish voice that matched his hair.

Jon was pleasantly surprised. Had Brady lost his edge along with his hair? Not likely. "Can I play with your hair?" he asked with a forced air of seriousness.

Brady made no reply and simply grabbed his hand to lead him away. Jon didn't mind. With Brady lying in his arms, he would surely get his way.