#askjaime

[ask-jorah]

Let's be honest, Ser, when you get drunk you must be very boring, talking about your blonde, I mean, love disappointments, so I can't blame the Hound XD

I do not get drunk and talk about my love life. Who told you that? Was it Jaime Lannister? He's a liar. He slays kings. Can't trust a man like that.

*See Jorah lie.  Lie, Jorah, lie.*

[askjaime]

[askjaime]

[askjaime]

[ask-jorah]

FIC: Poker Night - Odd Couple AU

[[Takes place in the ODD COUPLE universe]]

“Are you truly just—going to sit there?” Jorah Mormont vacuumed around Jaime Lannister until Jaime picked up his feet so that Jorah could run the vacuum where his feet had been.

From his seat on the couch, Jaime looked up at his friend.  “…yes?  I don’t understand why you’re going through all this trouble.  It’s just a game of poker.”

“I used to have great poker nights,” Jorah said after turning off the vacuum.  “There was a group of us from the Times—guys who were actual reporters, before the age of the internet, when it actually meant something—not this TMZ, blogger-fueled nonsense that passes as news now.” He paused. “What the hell kind of a word is ‘blogger’ anyway? Where did that even come from?”

Jaime blinked. “Was there…a point to this story, old man?”

Jorah glared.  “My point is, at least go pick up your damn underwear off the bathroom floor or something.”

“What, you haven’t already washed and ironed them?” Jaime smirked.

“As if I would touch your underwear with a ten-foot pole,” Jorah said, winding up the vacuum cord.  “That’s disgusting.  I’ve seen the women you flirt with.”

“Flirt with,” Jaime said, though he got up anyway, brushing a few crumbs from his undershirt.

“Who did you invite, anyway?” Jorah asked. 

The poker night had been Jaime’s idea, one that Jorah had been reluctant about, until Jaime said he’d do everything.  Jorah should have known that for Jaime “everything” meant inviting a few people and nothing more. 

“Just a couple of guys…” Jaime said, not looking at Jorah as he went past.

“Who?” Jorah frowned.

Jaime waited till he was halfway down the hall, out of Jorah’s reach, before calling back, “Oh, you know, no one important.  Peter Baelish…

There was a moment of silence.

Wait for it, Jaime thought.

“PETER BAELISH?” Jorah exclaimed.

And there we go. Jaime couldn’t help but cringe.

“What’s so bad about Baelish?” Jaime asked, going into the bathroom.

“You invited Peter Baelish. The gossip columnist. To my apartment.” Jorah followed him down the hall.

“Our apartment, sweetheart,” Jaime grinned.

Jorah glared.  “When Lynesse left me, he wrote about it in his column, you know.”

“That’s his job,” Jaime said.  “You can’t fault him for doing his job.”

“I can fault him for being an immense jerk who gets off on other peoples’ misfortune.”  Jorah shook his head, remembering.  “I can still see the headline.  ‘Hightower Films Heiress Leaves Reporter Husband Amid Rumors of Her Infidelity.’ ”

“…that was a bad year for you,” Jaime offered, picking up his aforementioned underwear and tossing them into his hamper. 

“He’s going to ask me about Dany,” Jorah groaned. 

“Well, we are all sort of wondering what happened with that,” Jaime said, moving out of the bathroom and past Jorah.

"Oh, are we?" Jorah snapped. 

"C'mon, man, the editor-in-chief of the Times--your girlfriend--throws you out of her condo, you go from Pulitzer nomination to the crime beat--you can't keep pretending that didn't happen!"

"This apartment--you--being here, slobbing up the place, in your eternal pair of sweatpants and your--bedhead--really, that's just unattractive--is proof enough that it happened! I don't need to talk about it!" Jorah growled.  There was a reason his colleagues had dubbed him 'the Bear' over the years. 

Jaime looked at the other man, a bit stunned, then started to laugh.  "Did you just call me unattractive?"

Jorah looked momentarily apoplectic before retorting, "For someone who covers show business and goes to all those damn premier parties, your daily grooming habits are sorely lacking--but that--that is beside the point!"  He took a breath.

"Are you done huffing?"

"No. Who else did you invite?"

"Just Peter," Jaime said, "And I, uh, told him to bring a friend..."

"What? How did poker night become entertaining Peter Baelish and Friends?" Jorah looked at Jaime suspiciously. "You need him for something, don't you? For one of your features?"

"...maybe..."

"You ass!"

"Calm down," Jaime said, "It won't be so bad. Besides, I told you to invite someone. Who'd you invite?"

It was Jorah's turn to smirk. "My nephew, Loras."

And now Jaime was the one who looked aghast.  “Loras—Loras Tyrell? All right, first of all—he is not your nephew.  You haven’t been married to his aunt for—well, how long has it been since Lynesse left you?  Eight years?  Ten?”

“Seven and a half,” Jorah pinched the bridge of his nose.  “He’s the only one of her family—well, he and his sister—who didn’t treat me like the whole damn thing was my fault. He still counts as my nephew.”

“And secondly—you know his father is best friends with mine,” Jaime groused.  “Do you really think I want Tywin knowing my business these days?”

“I doubt Loras is going to be reporting back to your father,” Jorah said.  “They don’t exactly run in the same circles.  Unless Tywin’s taken up hanging out with models and fashion designers.”

“Hardly,” Jaime rolled his eyes.  “But really—Loras? He’s not exactly the first guy you think of when you think ‘poker night.’”

Jorah shrugged.  “He gets bored when Renly’s out of town, so I asked him and he said yes.” 

Before they could discuss it any more, the doorbell rang.  Jorah went to answer it.  When he pulled open the door, he was greeted by Peter Baelish, whose smarmy smile was already in place. 

“Jorah, how good to see you,” Peter said in a tone that appeared to be sincere.  “I hope you don’t mind—I brought a friend.”  He glanced back down the outside corridor.  “Oh, here he comes.”

When Peter’s ‘friend’ reached the door, Jorah’s eyes narrowed and he knew that Peter’s sincerity had been false.  Glaring, Jorah looked at the newly arrived man and only said,  “You.”

From further inside the apartment, Jaime craned his neck to see over Jorah’s shoulder.  When he saw who Peter had brought, he muttered a curse.  This…was going to be a long night.

[ask-jorah]

((another 3-sentence prompt fulfilled for askbaelish))

askbaelish requested: petyr/jaime/jorah, doctor who au

Jaime flies backward from the force of the electrical charge, slamming against the wall, then slumping to the ground, the vortex manipulator around his wrist making a useless buzzing sound.

“Is this funny to you?” Jorah snarls at Baelish, aiming the sonic screwdriver right at the other man’s chest.  “This isn’t a game!”

Baelish chuckles, tapping his fingers against the counter rhythmically, like the sound of drums.  “Oh, but it is.” 

[orphanraisedbycarnies-archi-blog]

Since askJaime and ask-Jon-Snow got back together I can go to sleep

you crazy kids

[orphanraisedbycarnies-archi-blog]

pestering askJaime during class now

taking this to a whole new level.