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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

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i was prepared to love you&never expect anything of you - september 28th [closed to robb stark]
Of all the self-loathing Theon’s ever been consumed with, this has to be the worst.
Worse even, he’s sure, than the kind that had gripped him in that jail cell, nursing an injured knuckle coated with Robb’s blood. Than when he’d broken up with Robb over a stupid fucking tabloid article, in spite of all the self-hatred such acts had filled him with, none of them – nothing – nothing compared to this.
How could he have been such a fucking fool? Robb’s just lost his father, the man he’s spent his entire life looking up to, admiring, trying to fill the shoes of – loving – of course the last thing he fucking wants right now is sex.
Theon’s filled with the sudden urge to wretch his insides out. He only just about manages to swallow it back down. He tries to understand why Robb is angry, why he’d – why he’d speak to the person he’s supposed to love like this.
He’s failing miserably at it, too caught up in the hurt he’s experiencing, and he only hates himself all the more for that.
“I didn’t –“ he begins, trying to protest, but it’s fucking useless – Robb’s not going to listen, not going to believe a word he says. “I’m sorry. I didn’t – I didn’t think and I just – I just thought – even though I didn’t think –“
Fuck, this is useless. All he can do is hang his head in shame.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to – to upset you. I just wanted to try and take your mind off things.”
A part of him feels bad. And a part of him feels angry that he feels bad, and another ashamed that he feels angry about feeling bad. It's all a gigantic ball of feelings and confusion and Robb touches his forehead, trying to rub away the start of a headache that's been hammering his head since the day started.
He wishes he could just go with it. That he could kiss Theon and lay him down on his stomach and screw his brains out, get all the frustration out of his system in the most pleasurable way he can. Or that at least he could comfort Theon, tell him that it's okay, that it doesn't matter, they'll be able to do this soon enough. Theon would wait, he knows. But he's so tired, tired of meetings and cameras being shoved at his face, tired of having to pretend he doesn't want to break down and cry every second of every day. Robb's exhausted, he's angry at the world that took his father away too soon, he's devastated and suddenly, he also feels lonely.
Theon can't understand what he's going through, this is not something they can share. And somehow, Robb blames him. He doesn't know how and he doesn't know why but this is all Theon's fault.
"You thought wrong," he says, voice calm and cold. "My father is dead, Theon. The last thing I want right now is your cock, or your pity." He turns his back to him, pulling the covers up and over his body.
i was prepared to love you&never expect anything of you - september 28th [closed to robb stark]
Theon’s lapsed so much into how it used to be that it takes him longer than it should to realise something’s wrong. He can’t help it, he really can’t – he can’t even fucking express anymore how much he’s missed this with every fibre of his being and he feels drunk, like an addict reintroduced to their drug of choice after too long away.
It’s only once Robb pulls away that he finally cops on that something’s up – only when he sees the discomfort mingled with something Theon can’t bring himself to name clouding Robb’s gaze. Worst of all, he hears –
Robb tells him to stop, in a tone that begs no argument. Theon’s hand freezes as he allows the words to wash over him, his mouth suddenly desperately dry and a feeling in his gut blossoming as if he’d been punched.
Stop.
Robb’s never asked him that before.
He hastily withdraws his hand, stammering out apologies.
“Sorry,” he manages to choke out, wiping his palm on his thigh hurriedly, “sorry, I just – I don’t know, I – I just thought…” He swallows thickly. “…I just thought it might make you feel better.”
Robb's lips part in shock.
"Make me feel better?" He pulls his hand away from Theon's neck. There's a sickening feeling beginning to gather in his stomach, but it's far from being just one thing - it's the intrinsically masculine shame at not being able to fuck his own boyfriend, the incredulity that Theon would think that sex is what Robb needs right now, the constant hurt at the fact that his father is dead and his whole family in pieces trying to put themselves back together. "With sex?"
He sucks in a deep breath.
And now he's angry at Theon. After everything that's happened these last days, all Theon can think of is... sex?
"Jesus, Theon. Are you even thinking with anything other than your cock right now?"
i was prepared to love you&never expect anything of you - september 28th [closed to robb stark]
Robb takes his place beside on him, rolling onto his side as well and – surely that was a promising sign? The way he’s looking at Theon seems indicative – no, there’s no trace of the usual desire he sees burning there after their kisses – but this was a different kind of kiss, after all.
We could make love, Theon thinks.
He likes the sound of that.
Especially when he sees such love and adoration reflected in Robb’s blue eyes, like Theon is the anchor that keeps him afloat. He’d never expected Robb to look at him like this.
Sometimes he still can’t even believe all of this is real.
He kisses him first this time, and Theon answers it eagerly, his mouth opening against Robb’s own and meeting his tongue with his own. His arm had been curled around Robb’s waist, but he withdraws it now, allows it to gently trail across his chest, pausing for a moment to hear the steady thud of his heart beneath his ribs. A heart that was his, now. He’s so filled with warmth and love and God – he can’t imagine being anywhere else.
His hand continues its journey, lower now, fingertips skating over the hard lines of his abdomen before slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers.
He's so invested in this little bubble they managed to build with their kisses, that he doesn't even realise at first. The touch is so usual, something Robb's experimented so many times, that at first it seems just the natural thing to happen. And then he freezes. He can't even bring himself to break the kiss - Theon's tongue is still gently stroking his own but now Robb's stopped responding, eyes opening as realisation hits him. He wants sex. All of this - the kisses, the touching - it was all the foreplay. Just the anticipation of something else. Just sex. Robb finally breaks the kiss off, but he can't bring himself to say anything. Can't bring himself to push Theon away - he doesn't think he'll ever be able to do that, to physically reject him. He waits for a second in which he wishes with everything he has that he can do it, that it was all just a false alarm and he actually can give Theon what he wants, but Theon's hand is still brushing over his groin and God, no, it feels so wrong that Robb could cringe. "Stop."
i was prepared to love you&never expect anything of you - september 28th [closed to robb stark]
Robb’s tongue curls with his own and god, he’s so damn grateful for it that he’d smile if his mouth weren’t so otherwise occupied. It’s so different to the last few occasions they’ve done this – it had all been before Ned’s death and the novelty of Theon being in Scotland still hadn’t quite worn off. So their fucking had remained exactly that – fucking, in every sense of the word, passionate and filthy, the two of them utterly drunk on their lust for one another.
This is so soft, so gentle, Theon cradling Robb like he’s afraid he might break. And he is, in a way. No sane man could endure the amount of tragedy Robb Stark has experienced this year and survive completely intact. It makes Theon swell with pride that his boyfriend could remain so strong, even in the face of it all. Yes, he was wrought with grief – but he was still here, he was still enduring. Remaining the pillar of strength for the rest of the Stark family, all without any complaint.
He loves him so fucking much that it threatens to send him mad sometimes.
Theon breaks away, but only to shuffle away from the headboard and down the mattress so that he’s lying down. He turns onto his side, tugs gently on Robb’s arm.
“C’mere,”
And Robb follows gladly.
After all, this wasn't so different from the past couple of nights - the only difference is that now they're kissing instead of hugging. It's more comfortable like this, anyway. He rests a hand on Theon's hip and lies down on his side next to him, watching him for a moment. There's so much affection in those eyes, so much love, all for him. And the most insane thing about it is that it's not any different from the way Theon has looked at him for years. It was always there, and Robb wonders again how he managed to be so blind for so long.
This time, he kisses Theon first. I love you, he tries to tell him with that kiss. Even if we're not happy now, at least we're together. At least I have you.
Phone call - Jon and Robb - September 26th
[The word “dead" doesn’t even seem like a real word anymore. It’s been repeated in Jon’s mind too many times to have any real meaning to it. Until it does.] That’s…that’s—how? [He knows, he’s read the news sites, but the idea of a car crash being the thing to bring down Ned Stark is almost too impossible to imagine. Men like Ned Stark do not die in car crashes.]
[Of course Robb doesn’t know what to do. Jon feels the same panic curling in his stomach, threatening to erupt.] I—I don’t know either. Does…everyone know? Am I the last? [A small, selfish part of him hopes that he is, so that he doesn’t have to have this conversation again, ever.]
[He's in a daze. He feels as if in a dream, talking about someone who isn't his father. Some stranger. Someone else.] His car crashed, that's all I know. The driver died too. It's... I can't believe he's dead. [Suddenly, it's not someone else anymore. It's Ned Stark, his father, Jon's father.] I haven't told Bran and Rickon yet. But I have to. Mum - Catelyn - I think that's the best I can do for her. I don't know about... Sansa and... [He can't bring himself to say Arya's name; on top of all this, it's surreal to remember that they haven't heard from their sister in who knows how long.]
i was prepared to love you&never expect anything of you - september 28th [closed to robb stark]
Robb doesn’t respond at first and – this isn’t a very good sign, if he wasn’t even able to kiss Theon back, his plan to distract him wasn’t going to exactly succeed – but then, there, his mouth presses back against Theon’s and he can’t help but sigh with relief against his lips.
Robb’s lays a tentative hand against his neck, and Theon can’t help himself, allows his hand to slip around to cup the back of his boyfriend’s neck, pulling him closer still. He keeps it slow at first, nothing more than the gentle press of lips against lips, but then – it’s all too natural really, and he wants this so badly – missed it even more than he realised – his tongue slips past, nudges against Robb’s lips, seeking permission.
He shouldn’t be this selfish, he really shouldn’t. If anything, he should allow Robb to take the lead, set the pace for what was acceptable and what was not.
But it’s been so long and it just feels too perfect to try and resist.
Theon pulls him closer by the back of his neck and Robb follows his lead, leaning into him even more, making the soft pressure of their lips turn into something a bit more solid, firm. They're both just in their boxers and he can feel Theon's torso right against his own, but for once, it doesn't send Robb into an spiral of lust. Instead it just makes him grateful for Theon's warmth, for his comfort. It's nice, having someone to clutch, feel his heartbeat under his palm, the rising of his ribcage with each breath.
Then Theon makes to deepen the kiss, and an alarm goes off in Robb's head. They've been here way too many times for him not to know that this is usually how other things start, and he... he's not sure how to feel about that. Maybe it's that uncertainty, that huge question mark floating in his head right now, that makes him part his lips and allow Theon's tongue inside, shyly meet him with his own. He keeps the kiss slow, however, and lets Theon seek him, guide him. Robb has no idea of what he wants, so let Theon decide for him.
Phone call - Jon and Robb - September 26th
[The phone rings, and he jumps. The caller ID flashes his brother’s name, and he almost sighs in relief, because Robb will tell him that the news sites got it wrong, that his father isn’t really dead, just injured. His brother’s tone kills any relief he felt, and he sits down hard on the cot, staring at the floor.] I…I saw the news sites. I…figured it was a mistake. [Pause.] Robb, it is a mistake, right?
[It's like he's living with a lump in his throat lately. It's hard to swallow it down, but he does, just like he's been doing since this all started. Jon's tone has the tiniest bit of hope in it and Robb hates himself for being the one to crush it.] No. They're right. He's... [He clenches his jaw.] Dad's dead, Jon. And I don't know what to do.
Modern AU Robb I have won every battle, yet somehow I’m losing the war. [x]
i was prepared to love you&never expect anything of you - september 28th [closed to robb stark]
Theon swallows heavily. God, he really hopes his plan succeeds in making Robb feel better, to forget, just for a little while. Just…something. Anything that isn’t this grief that threatens to consume him completely.
He continues combing his hands through Robb’s hair, closing his eyes for a moment and just trying to lose himself in it.
“I don’t know if it’s any consolation,” he murmurs, “but it was worth it. You were worth it. I wouldn’t change my decision to come here, not even for a second. It was the happiest I can remember being in forever.”
He untangles his hand from Robb’s curls, uses it instead to lay two fingers beneath his chin and tilt his head up to meet his gaze. His eyes are bloodshot, but still the bluest things Theon thinks he’s ever seen. He can’t resist it, leans in to brush his lips against Robb’s ever so softly.
He prays he doesn’t pull away.
Theon tilts his head up, kisses him softly and, as it seems to be happen too often these days, it takes Robb a couple of seconds to completely process it. He's simply just there at first, eyes still open and mouth unmoving under Theon's, but then he closes his eyes and kisses Theon back just as softly. God, under all that grief, he'd missed this, he realises with surprise. There was something about a kiss that words and even a hug couldn't quite express.
He brings his hand up and lays it on Theon's neck, thumb feeling his pulse point. He makes a tiny sound of approval and moves closer, not as enthusiastically as he'd have once done it, but still, just enough to let Theon know that this is allowed, this is okay, this he wants.
Phone call - Robb & Alys - September 15th
[Alys balks. That sounds exactly like what she doesn’t want. Getting him fired would only make a very powerful enemy out of the Boltons, and she knows better than to think Roose would be happy to see Robb’s already uneasy grip on the companies rubbed in his face.] No, no! That’s not what I want. All that does is prove that I can’t take care of myself. You’ll upset the Boltons, and with them will go Barbrey Dustin, and my father will think that brash youngsters have taken over, no, no definitely not. Please, don’t undo all the hard work I put in this week! I appreciate your defense, but what he did was personal, and it should be dealt with personally.
[His frown only deepens. Why is Alys acting like this is no big deal? Weren't girls supposed to be scared when this kind of thing happened? Suddenly, an idea occurs to him and he lowers his voice instinctively.] Did he threaten you into not saying anything?
dead hearts to you - {september 26th, bran & robb & rickon}
Then he speaks, his voice doesn’t sound the same as it did the last time he heard his brother. Something’s happened, and he thinks of his sisters in London. They’ve found Arya, he wants to say, but he can’t. Maybe that’s what it is, but at this point, that may not be good news. All he knows is that his heart starts hammering in his chest as his brother closes the distance between the trio. “Something bad." He says, not stupid enough to ask if it was something bad. It was plain on his brother’s face. He looks to Rickon, a split second, before looking down, at the cards still in his hands.
"What —?" Panic settles in. His mind rushes to possibilities. Arya? He wonders. Sansa? No, he thinks. Jon? He’s never indulged himself with the possibilities of expecting their return, but he’s never thought of it an actual reality. And yet now…
"What happened?" he finally manages.
They both lower their cards to pay attention to him and Robb's stomach churns. They look so very young right now, sitting here with the dog, playing games completely unaware of the horrors taking place outside - how could anyone do this to them? How could anyone do this to him? To his family?
He supposes there isn't much room for pauses or questions. The truth of the matter is simple: Ned Stark is dead. But how can he put it so that Rickon and Bran won't have nightmares about this moment for the years to come? His mind quickly scans the situation. Maybe he should let the part of the accident out... but no, they'll ask sooner or later, and anyway the tv won't spare those details. Should he say that his father died quickly, that he didn't suffer? Or would that be too graphic?
Would that even be true?
The thought of his father hurt and confused, bleeding out to death trapped in a destroyed car, his life fading away just slow enough for him to understand that he won't make it home that night - Robb's knees feel weak and he feels like he might collapse. He composes himself, however, taking a deep breath and shifting his weight.
"There was an accident. Dad's car... it crashed. He -" Robb looks away, his eyes itching again. "He didn't make it."
i was prepared to love you&never expect anything of you - september 28th [closed to robb stark]
Theon echoes his smile with one of his own, unbuckles his belt and rids himself of his jeans before climbing into bed beside Robb. He doesn’t waste any time in pulling him into an embrace, wrapping his arms around him and tugging him closer, his smile only growing when Robb nuzzles into him. He brings a hand up to card his hands through Robb’s auburn curls, taking the opportunity to breathe in the scent of his freshly-washed hair. It’s all so familiar and warming that for a moment, he can almost, just almost, pretend everything was normal.
(It wasn’t. It wouldn’t be again for a long, long time.
Theon wonders if it ever will be again.)
He doesn’t want to think about that now, not when he can just enjoy the small comforts available to him right now. Really, the nights are what he lives for these days. The rest of his time, he just wanders around the mansion feeling like a spare part and avoiding the rest of the Stark family. He knows he’s not welcome here right now by anyone but Robb, he doesn’t need to be reminded of it.
He turns his head, lips grazing over Robb’s temple.
“I wish sometimes we never had to leave this bed.”
Less than a week ago, Robb would have watched. Would have subtly looked as Theon undressed and secretly wondered what position they could have sex in that night. Less than a week ago he'd have pulled Theon close, whispered words of lust and kissed him senseless before rolling over him as the start of another sleepless night.
Now, Robb simply hugs him in a way that isn't so different from his fourteen year old self reaching for Theon's hand the day his grandmother died. He cannot even remember the last time he and Theon kissed. Two days ago? Three?
"Tell me about it," he mumbles into Theon's neck tiredly. "I thought we'd be happy once you left London and came here... I guess I was wrong."
Phone call - Jon and Robb - September 26th
[As dark and selfish as it is, he hopes Jon has heard already. Robb already has to tell their two little brothers, and possibly Sansa too if she hasn't seen it in the news yet. (He tries not to think about Arya.) As Jon's phone rings somewhere in London, Robb wonders if the Night's Watch will allow his brother to come back. It'd be nice, seeing Jon again, regardless of the circumstances.] Jon, it's me. Have you... [He clears his throat, swallowing the lump that had formed there.] have you heard?
Phone call - Robb & Alys - September 15th
What do you mean am I sure it was Ramsay Bolton? Of course it was Ramsay Bolton, you know, beady pale little eyes, creepy smile, incredibly strong death grip. [Alys sighs, thumbing a stray thread on her dress absently.] I’m fine. I mean I think I’m fine. I thought the meeting was going to go all right, and then he started talking about hearing me and his older brother together. I didn’t even know he existed, let alone heard us!
[He opens his mouth, speechless, then closes it again. His hand tightens into a fist. Doubting Alys does not cross his mind for a second; if this is what she says happened, then it happened. And he's angry.] Does anyone know about this? You should have told me right away - we need to do something about it. He can't just get away with treating you like that. I'll get him fired if that's what you want.