Chapter Text
Jon was frozen, beer raised halfway to his lips and eyes locked in on his favorite form of torture. Purple eyes seared into him from across the bar, corner of her lip tugging up knowing she had his attention. Satisfied with her audience, platinum waves fell forward as she licked salt from the side of her curly-haired friend’s hand, knocking back what couldn’t have been her first shot of the evening and following it with the most obscene treatment to a lime slice he was sure he had ever seen. He raised an eyebrow and finished sipping his beer as she grinned, turning her attention back to her friends. I’m going to hell he thought with a mild shake of his head.
It wasn’t the first time they had played this game. Both regulars at The Red Keep, she came up with creative ways to tease him each time their paths crossed. Coy smiles from across the bar turned to body shots and table dances, each act completed with a victorious look thrown his way. And he was helpless to watch. An audience seemed to be all she wanted from him, and he was happy to provide. A fool, constantly returning to the rack for further torment, because it was the deepest connection he had made since returning North.
“That’s a bad idea,” Robb warned from his seat next to Jon’s at the bar. Obviously, Robb. That’s why we never speak.
“What is?” Jon ran his left hand through his hair, aggravating the curls he had finally allowed to start growing out.
“Not what. Who.” Who, indeed.
“Hmmm.” He sipped his beer pretending to consider his brother’s advice. Hell with her didn’t seem so bad. “Who said it was my idea?” Jon had been very polite to the lime on his drink thus far.
“Since your car probably has more miles than her, I’m making common sense decisions your responsibility.” Robb gave him a pointed look that Jon missed. The sight of mystery minx rallying out to the dance floor more interesting than his brother’s well-meaning advice. The dance floor wasn’t particularly lively this evening, but she never seemed to care about that.
“Not sure I like that.” He grumbled back. It wasn’t polite to bring his baby into their conversation. Despite her mileage, she had treated him well since they were in high school.
“The common sense or the responsibility?”
“Your pick,” he shrugged. Still not making eye contact with his brother, he flagged the bartender his way for another round of beers and a quiet request for anything she-devil and company ordered to be put on his tab.
“Is that what you do with your pension these days?”
“You sound more and more like your mother each day, Robb. How is the family anyways?”
“They’re good, Jon. They wouldn’t mind seeing you either.”
“Ohhhh, Catelyn might mind.”
Catelyn always minded. The happiest he had ever been able to make his step-mother was the day he turned eighteen. Proudly coming home with his enlistment papers after talking to a recruiter in the cafeteria at school the week before. A bumper sticker and a stiff t-shirt to seal the deal still thrown in the back of his jeep. A military man. Just like Uncle Benjen. She had swept him into the kind of nurturing hug that a younger him had longed for. Acceptance. His teenage self hadn’t been prepared for that. Fully steeled for a lecture at his latest act of rebellion, he remembered hesitantly returning her affection. His father’s face had fallen, sad, gray eyes meeting his over her shoulder. The years more obvious to Jon that day than he had remembered through his childhood. Catelyn made him his favorite meal that night— lasagna and garlic bread. She even made him a birthday cake. His return home had not been treated with the same festivities.
“Sansa would. Arya would. Little Ned’s been learning to ride his bike this past week, I’m sure he’d love to show his Uncle—
“Were you going to just buy my drinks all night, or did you plan on introducing yourself to me?”
Despite the beers he had drank, his mouth felt dry. A brave little thing, she stood before them nursing a fresh vodka cranberry with a light sheen on her forehead from the dance floor where her friends remained. Neon bar lights reflected off of her, crowning her in a wash of reds and blues. She had broken the rules. They stare. She smiles. He buys her whatever drinks her heart desires. They do NOT speak. They leave. Repeat. Because he is entirely too tired for someone like her and she is entirely too good for someone like him and-
“Jon,” he tilted his head towards her with a small smile as he stuck out a tattooed forearm for a handshake.
“Daenerys.” She smiled at him genuinely for the first time since they had begun this dance. Her usual smugness gone, replaced with softer eyes that betrayed her youth.
“You know it’s impolite to stare, Daenerys?” He drawled. Daring her to have an excuse for breaking the rules of their usual game.
“You know I don’t give a shit?” Daenerys returned, honey dripping from her words matching his cadence syllable for syllable. Robb chortled, swigging his beer to hide his amusement before introducing himself to Daenerys. She plopped down in the stool on the other side of Robb, swinging jean-clad legs to angle herself towards them. “What brings you boys in tonight? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before?” She directed her last sentence towards Robb, who was none the wiser that she had just imploded a months-long game.
“Just catching up with my brother here,” Robb replied, clapping Jon on the back and laying on his trademark charm that Jon never quite figured out how to replicate. “What brings you to this fine establishment?” He gestured to the bar with its neon beer signs, faded pictures adorning the walls, and sticky floors easily ignored in the blurry dark.
“Two dollar Tuesday, of course!” She crossed her legs and raised her pink drink in a cheers-ing motion to the boys before taking a sip. Her lips puckered around the straw and her right arm flexed under her chest with the movement, pushing her cleavage a little higher than it had been before. Others take me.
Robb sat up straighter, placing his left hand on top of the bar to thrum his fingers against it. The simple band on his ring finger clinked against the epoxied top. “You know I’m surprised you’ve never met Jon being a regular here himself. After all the use that bar stool has gotten in the last 15 years, we figured they’d engrave his name into it by now.” Robb chuckled at his joke and angled his shoulders towards Jon, who had finished his beer during the exchange.
“Aye, we must have different schedules.” Jon gave a strained smile to Daenerys, not breaking eye contact to gesture for a new beer.
“Speaking of schedules, it’s time for me to close out here.” Robb laid a $20 on the table before reaching out to shake Daenerys’ hand once more. “Daenerys, pleasure to meet you.” His schooled-smile dropped, expression more serious when he turned to his brother, “Jon. We’ll see you for dinner next Sunday then.” He nodded before they clapped each other on the back once more with Robb giving him a final warning look before taking his leave.
“Daenerys—
“Dany,” she interrupted, eyes soft again before she starting stirring her drink.
“Dany, then. What changed?” He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.
“It seems your brother has left, leaving the stool next to you unattended. If you’d like I can just scooch down one, and it’ll be just like it was before.” She was already halfway to shifting over to Robb’s now vacant barstool. The condensation from her drink helped coast it over to her new perch where she was close enough for Jon to breathe in her scent. His nostrils flared taking in the mix of salt from her efforts on the dance floor, fruit from the cranberry juice she had been mixing all night, and a layer of a delicate perfume buried under the rest. This was not like it was before.
“You lied,” he tried, taking a different approach.
“Awww did Daddy not like that?” She mocked him with a pout as he choked and pounded his chest to right himself again. “Besides, you really wanted me to tell your nosy-nelly brother about how we’ve been eye-fucking each other the past few months?”
“Really, Daenerys,” he coughed. “Of all nights, why change things now? Were you not content to get free drinks from the creepy, old guy across the bar?”
“Are you always content to leave things the way they are? You never want more?” She leaned in closer to study him, hair falling towards her face, her smile wiser than it had any right to be. “And you’re hardly a creepy, old guy,” she teased with a roll of her eyes.
Of course he had wanted more. Wanting more took him to joining the military which took him to The Wall and that got him riddled like Swiss cheese. Wanting more took him back home to The North which brought him back to his old haunt facing this woman. Silver-haired and optimistic with a touch of false confidence if he focused hard enough to see through it.
“Don’t you see how every woman here looks at you? Hell, I’ve seen a few men give you the eyes in the last few months,” she giggled at the thought.
“Only you,” he said thoughtlessly before glancing up to gauge her reaction to his beer-provoked confession. Shit. “You’re hard to miss with the shows you like to put on.”
She glanced down, smile ghosting on her face and he swore he could see a peak of pink cross her chest as she breathed in deeply.
“So you have no idea that my friends and I have been calling you Zaddy for the last few months? Even Loras has entertained finding out what’s behind that brooding exterior and generous wallet,” she was back to teasing.
“What in seven hells is that?”
“Oh, Loras? He’s over there actually, with Missy and Marge.” She nodded her head to her body-shot partner, who he could see was accompanied by another young woman and a man, who could almost be twins with their wavy, brown hair and golden brown eyes. The trio had placed themselves within shouting distance of himself and Dany.
Loras, having noticed Jon looking their way, lifted his glass towards them shouting, “Cheers, Daddy!”
“What did he say?” Jon asked, brows knitted together, frown turning down more than usual.
“Cheers, Dany. He didn’t think my ‘lady balls’ were big enough to even ask you for your name.” What did that say about his own? She smiled tightly, tossing back the last sip of her vodka cranberry before pushing the empty glass towards the edge of the bar. Jon grabbed a bar napkin to wipe his forehead. He didn’t remember this place being so warm.
He excused himself at that moment for a well-deserved restroom break. You can still get out of this. You can close your tab, bid her goodnight, and simply never come back. You can still do the right thing. Business done, he looked into the hazy mirror to attempt to right himself one more time. Yes, his eyes were a hair glazed, but they are in a bar. He splashed some cold water on his face although it was nothing compared to the cold shower he needed after one conversation with Daenerys. He heard the door slam against the stucco wall as another occupant entered while he ran a paper towel over his face, patting his salt-and-pepper flaked beard free of any remaining water droplets. Small hands gripped his shoulders, forcing him around to be nose-to-nose for the first time with Daenerys. Her eyes were a hair glazed, but full of an unmistakeable fire before she closed them, gripping a handful of curls to pull him down for a kiss.
Dizzy is what he was. Delirious, certainly, if he really thought that Daenerys had followed him in to the men’s room of the Red fucking Keep to corner him. But she had. Her little hands were knotted in in his curls, and he could feel her rising up on her tip toes to get that much closer to him. Her lips were still unsure against his, juxtaposing the usual bluster of hers he had grown accustomed to. No going back now. He licked her lower lip, sucking it in to his mouth to gain entry to hers, exploring really. There wasn’t a place on her he didn’t want to taste, and the remnants of lime and cranberry were just the start. He trailed his hands from her waist down to the tops of her thighs before picking her up in his arms. She gasped softly, pulling back in surprise, flushed chest heaving as he spun them, seating her on the countertop and giving her thighs a firm squeeze.
“Do you always frequent the men’s room when you come here?”
“Only when there’s something I want inside.” She knotted her hand in his threadbare shirt bringing him closer. The mirror behind her reverberated as his left hand smacked it, passion and poor coordination fueling him, and his right slipped around her waist as he went in for a second taste.
“There you are,” she whispered against his mouth. His brows knitted to consider what she meant, but each swipe of her tongue against his further intoxicated him till he stopped caring about anything else besides the next bite of that red, pouty lip or roll of her body against his. Jon nested a hand in her carefully formed waves, wrenching her head back to gain access to the sensitive skin of her neck. He lathed his tongue and sucked his way down to her collarbone tasting the salt and the perfume he had whiffed earlier. She moaned, legs squeezing around his hips when his thumb brushed over her breast from outside her shirt. She hurriedly reached down to peel her shirt off, and he moved his hands out of her way just as fast.
“No bra, huh?” He weighed one in his hand and moved his mouth to the other, pressing kisses against each inch before taking the peak in his mouth.
“Wanted to be prepared,” she ground out before letting out a small shriek when he pinched her left nipple as his teeth grazed, pulling at her right with a pop.
“For who?” He asked with a raised brow, frown more pronounced than usual.
“Only you,” she huffed. And he was surely a sick bastard for the way that his chest swelled at the idea of her planning this. Keeping a secret that was just meant for the two of them.
Satisfied, he returned to meticulously teasing her nipples, pebbled and hard like cherries. Sucking, tongue swirling, scraping his teeth against each one just to hear her wanton cries and feel her knees wriggle in retaliation against him.
“Jon,” she panted, leaning her head back to rest against the mirror. “Jon, please.”
“Jon, please what? Use your words now, Dany.” It was probably wrong to taunt her this way, but he had already accepted there was no going back now. In for a penny, in for a pound, and what not.
“More. Please.”
He chuckled, nuzzling her collar as his tongue made its ascent upwards.
“Is this what you wanted? You want me to take you right here in the men’s room of the Red fucking Keep?” He teased the shell of her ear, his hot breath raising goosebumps down the back of her neck. “You’re filthy, you know that?”
She mewled, nodding her head in response. He was a filthy bastard too then. Nothing sounded better than giving in to the temptation of having Daenerys laid out across the bathroom counter for his eyes only.
He patted her thigh twice signaling for her to unwrap her legs from him. He gripped her hips and slid her off the counter. Her eyes were glazed and a lazy smile graced her lips as Jon began to kneel before her. He took his time, just as determined as before to taste as much as he could, sucking and nibbling along the waistband of her jeans. Her hands threaded in his hair, dainty fingers scratching his scalp.
Her eyes are glazed. Don’t be that fucking guy.
“Daenerys,” he breathed, resting his forehead against her hip. He was a lot of things, but he didn’t want to be this.
“Jon… don’t stop,” she pouted looking down at him. He had never felt more like an idiot than he did denying her in that moment.
“I can’t, Dany.”
“What?” Her brows furrowed together and she blinked slowly, searching him for a reason. Gods, he hoped he could make her understand.
His knees ached in protest as he raised himself from the floor and took in the mess he had made. Her jeans had wet spots from where he had placed her on the counter between the sinks. Her breasts were pink from where he had grabbed them and her nipples still pebbled asking for more. Her neck and her hips had a few faint red marks where he had sucked too hard and her lips were swollen and red, lower lip protruding at his denial. Even if they hadn’t gotten that far, she looked well fucked.
He turned to retrieve her blouse for her. It was the least he could do. She wouldn’t meet his eyes as he walked it back to her. He gently grabbed her arms, helping her dress again. It was the least he could do.
“Dany,” he started. “Dany, look at me,” he implored her, thumb turning her chin to encourage her. Those violet eyes were still glazed, but gods they burned into his.
“It’s Daenerys,” she spat.
“Daenerys then,” he raised his eyebrows and stroked her jaw in the space right below her ear as he continued. “When I fuck you, I’m not doing it in a dirty men’s restroom after half a bottle of well vodka when I’m not even sure if you’ll still want me in the morning or remember all of it. And baby, I plan on you remembering how you feel. If you’ll still have me after this. You understand?” Her unblinking stare made him want to shiver or shrink, but he had faced scarier sights than a pissed-off Daenerys. At least so far.
“Daenerys?”
“Dany,” she corrected, swallowing before the edges of her coy smile returned to her face and she thrust her chin in the air. She finally blinked. Thank fuck. “Well, Jon, I guess you better make plans to take me somewhere that’s not the Red fucking Keep.”