Wow I want all of those but how about 48 for JB, please?
@djlouat also requested this one. Thank you both, this was a lot of fun!
Send me a ship and a number and I’ll write a short fic (eventually, maybe) Also on AO3.
Prompt 48: High School Reunion
Brienne was not having a good time.
It was exactly what she expected, though. Packed into the drab ballroom of a mediocre King’s Landing hotel with everyone she never wanted to see again. Horrible music she’d wanted to avoid even as a teenager. Whispers behind her back and smug smirks across the dark room that people evidently thought she could not see.
She would not have come if not for Margaery.
“Please go,” she’d begged over the phone only two days eariler, “you have to.”
“I really don’t,” Brienne had countered, sliding heavily into a kitchen chair.
“Jaime Lannister might be there.”
“I don’t know why you’d think I might care about that,” she lied.
There was silence on the other end of the line, and Brienne felt guiltier with each second. “I don’t want to go alone. Please don’t make me face those people alone.”
Brienne had groaned into the phone and given in. These sorts of things had always been important to Margaery and Brienne had always been the supportive friend.
But Margaery had left their table an hour ago with the promise to be right back. Brienne had been nursing her ginger ale and watching with wry distaste as Mark Mullendore tried to woo a group of women. Something about bringing up your pet monkey at every turn seemed much less cute at twenty-eight than it had been at seventeen.
She took a long drink from her cup and glanced up at the clock on the far wall. Perhaps she could sneak out. Margaery had clearly found more interesting ways to occupy her evening. And Brienne was only there for her.
It was as she glanced back down that she caught sight of him. Jaime Lannister was leaning against the wall under the clock, staring directly at her. The sight of him made her heart skip a beat, much to Brienne’s aggravation. She thought she’d be past that by now.
In high school, Jaime had been tall and athletic with boyish good looks and a dazzling sardonic smile. Ten years later, he was perhaps an inch or two taller and filled out as though the gods had sculpted his body themselves. Broader, stronger shoulders encased by a crimson button-down and a black tie slung haphazardly around his collar. Long legs in black slacks that hugged the thick muscles of his thighs. His hair was shorter and more professional than the ringlets he’d kept as a youth. But the smile was just as sharp, just as knowing. And he was directing it at her.
Brienne let her gaze fall, but she knew he’d caught her staring.
She caught sight of a shimmery blue dress in one corner of the ballroom. Margaery was flashing a smile so completely fake it almost made Brienne laugh. Until she recognized the flowing blonde hair of the woman she was speaking to. Cersei Lannister—Baratheon?—no, definitely Lannister; Robert Baratheon’s death had been highly publicized. Brienne couldn’t make out what they were saying, but she could see Osney Kettleblack pressing himself into the wall behind them, looking mortified. There was some history between the three of them that Brienne could not quite recall the details of. It was certainly nothing she wanted any part in.
She had resolved that she should just leave when she heard a voice over her shoulder.
“They’re still extremely embarrassing, aren’t they?”
She grimaced and turned slowly to face him. He was even better looking up close, like something from a men’s fitness magazine. It wasn’t fair that he should grow more handsome with age while Brienne only grew more… Brienne.
“May I sit?”
Brienne stared up at him. “What do you want, Jaime?”
He laughed and sat down anyway. “Well this is a reunion. One can’t be too sure but I do believe the point is to say hello to old friends.”
“Were we friends?” she shot back before she could stop herself.
She immediately regretted the words. Of course Jaime had been her friend, at least toward the end. After the incident with the Red Connington and the hockey team. But Jaime had chosen to follow Cersei to the prestigious university their father had chosen for them and Brienne had gone to state school. He’d said goodbye at the end of the summer and she’d pretended her heart hadn’t shattered into a million pieces. Stupid girl.
“Brienne,” he chided, his brow knitted together with annoyance. At least his scowl hadn’t changed a bit.
“How was Crakehall?” she asked, watching the drama between Margaery and Cersei continue to simmer.
“I dropped out.”
Brienne’s eyebrows shot up and she turned to face him in full. She didn’t have words for that. Jaime had never been one to disappoint his sister nor his father. She couldn’t imagine either would approve of that.
“Don’t look so surprised, Tarth. Did you ever know me to be a good student?”
She couldn’t stop the slight upturn of her lips. Brienne had spent countless hours trying to get him to take his calculus homework seriously. He had never been bad at it, he had just refused to care. It had nearly driven her insane.
“I suppose not.” She bit her lip, recognizing a turning point in the evening and deciding to lean into it rather than back away. “So what have you been up to then?” She wanted to tell him he looked good. Too good for someone who’d presumably thrown away success and opportunity with both hands.
He shrugged and looked away as though embarrassed. “I write.”
“You were always a very good writer,” she said softly, recalling with ease his moving and often beautiful command of language. She’d always told him as much before she had even finished proofreading, but he’d never believed her.
“You’re the only one who ever thought so.”
“I’m the only one you ever allowed to read any of it.”
He held her gaze, his green eyes bright even in the dim lighting. “Would you want to get a drink?”
“I can’t leave Margaery.” That was not strictly true, of course.
Jaime chuckled. “I would never ask you to. Not with my sister around, anyway. I meant from here.” He nodded to the bar.
“Oh! Oh, no I’m fine.” She felt herself blush and she clutched the plastic cup of soda too tightly, only noticing when it collapsed between her fingers and crinkled loudly. “How is Cersei?” She meant to sound casual, but her voice came out too high.
“No idea. This is my first time seeing her in six years. But that Kettleblack is following her around like she owns him, so I’d imagine she’s fine.” His tone was light but Brienne recognized the edge of bitterness.
“Six years?”
“She’s awful,” he grumbled without any further explanation. It surprised her; Jaime had always defended his sister even to Brienne. Even at her worst.
He stood then, chewing the inside of his cheek and staring across the sea of people. “Can we just get out of here? I’m tired of being surrounded by lickspittles and halfwits and I know you must be too.”
“You’re being very rude.”
“It isn’t rude to make observations.”
“It is. We’ve been over this.”
Jaime offered her a tight-lipped smile. Brienne wondered if he was thinking about it too: the way they had been. How easily they fell into old rhythms.
“I’m glad you came, Brienne. I was hoping you’d be here.”
“I don’t know why.” Was she still bitter? She was happy to see him.
“Yes you do.”
She blinked up at him. There had been something between them. As she’d grown older it had been easier to attribute that something to teenaged fantasies. But the way he was looking at her now…
“Come with me,” he said quietly, eyes shining hopefully. “We’ll go knock mailboxes off their posts, egg Hyle Hunt’s truck, and sneak booze from your dad’s liquor cabinet. For old times’ sake.”
Brienne huffed a blunted laugh and shook her head. “We never did any of that.”
Jaime smiled in earnest then, all straight teeth and dimples. “Well, we could start.”
Brienne sighed and stood, glancing back at Margaery. She’d extricated herself from Cersei and was now laughing with Arys Oakheart.
“I’m not damaging any property,” she warned him, pointing an accusatory finger.
He grinned and took her arm in his, guiding them toward the door. “But the booze is a yes?”
She shook her head despairingly with a roll of her eyes, but she led him lead her out. Brienne might regret it in the morning, after he’d gone home and lost interest in her for another ten years, but the truth was that anything with Jaime would always be a “yes.”
