Chapter Text
As a younger girl, Sansa Stark couldn’t say she’d thought all that often of her cousin Jon from Dorne. She knew her Aunt Lyanna had had him young. Sansa was vaguely aware there was some scandal attached to the matter but it was one of those family things that was kept hush-hush and she’d been instructed early on by her mother not to question her father over it.
If he had continued growing up around Winterfell, things might’ve been different. She’d been told that Jon and Robb had played together all the time when they were little. But when Jon was seven and Sansa was four, her aunt had married Arthur Dayne and, soon after, the three of them had moved south.
Thus, the cousins didn’t see much of each other over the intervening fifteen years. Oh, there were nameday cards, pictures exchanged via the parents and some occasional holiday meetings but Starfall was so far from Winterfell. Her father and his sister kept in touch but Sansa didn’t see them the way she regularly saw her Uncle Benjen.
When Sansa had been ten, Jon had come up to stay with them for a couple of weeks while his parents took a cruise. He and Robb had gotten along very well. He’d also immediately seemed to click with Arya which bothered Sansa more than she would’ve expected. Maybe it was because Arya had rather rudely said something about Sansa liking ‘boring girly stuff’ and Jon snickering over it the second day he was there. Sansa had decided to ignore them all at that point and stuck to it.
But when Sansa was fourteen, Jon came North again with his mother and things were different this time.
They’d come up to view the nearby university he was considering attending the following year and Sansa had quite a surprise when her father ushered them into the house where everyone waited to greet them after he’d picked them up from the airport.
After hugging her aunt, she stood back watching Robb assist Rickon in getting reacquainted with the cousin he didn’t recall from the previous trip, amused and pleased by how natural Jon was with the precocious seven-year-old despite being of a quieter disposition than any of her siblings.
He’d grown taller which she’d expect but he was more grown up somehow than she’d anticipated.
The picture of Jon her mother had on display on the mantle was from when Jon had visited four years earlier when he’d been thirteen with a buzz cut, acne and horn-rimmed glasses. That was how she pictured Jon in her mind.
That image didn’t match the young man before her at all.
At seventeen, he’d grown his hair out a good bit, such lovely curls, his skin had cleared and he’d exchanged his glasses for contact lenses. Well, at night he said he still wore his glasses. Sansa had a sneaking suspicion he’d look quite good in them.
Her cousin Jon from Dorne was…gods, he was hot.
Gross.
Well, he is!
This didn’t matter, she told herself objectively. He was her cousin. He lived in Dorne. Probably had a girlfriend, too.
Nevertheless, she was strangely fascinated and couldn’t seem to stop herself from looking at him, though discretely, every time they were in the same room. As it happened, she found herself wandering into whatever room Jon was in as often as she could manage it.
Naturally, Arya took note of it.
“I didn’t think you even liked him.”
“What?” Like him?! What do you mean by ‘like’ him?!
“You’re always staring at him and hanging around now. Last time, you barely exchanged ten words. Well, you’re still not really talking to him but…anyway, it’s weird.”
“You’re weird,” Sansa clapped back defensively but Arya didn’t rise to the bait.
She had thought she’d been discrete. At least Arya didn’t say all that in front of anyone else for a change.
“I guess I’m trying to be more mature this time.”
“Mature?” Arya snorted.
“But I suppose I don’t know what to say to him,” she said, ignoring Arya’s derision as her cheeks started growing inexplicably warm at the thought of having a one-on-one conversation with Jon. “And why wouldn’t I like him? He’s family.”
She was sure she sounded very mature and not remotely paranoid of being caught at something in that reply.
“Well, he doesn’t say a ton but he’s easy to talk to if you try,” Arya said with a shrug before skipping off again.
Yes, try. She could talk to Jon. That was simple. She would prove that she did like Jon as her family and that was all.
She knew he liked football. He was fond of fencing and was on his school’s squad. She’d heard her mother saying he was allergic to shellfish. Robb had said Jon made better scores on his placement tests than him so he was clearly book smart. What else…
He was older but not that much older and he’d be going to university next year like Robb. Sansa was only three years behind them. She should probably ask him stuff about his future plans. That’d be very grown-up of her.
She cornered him one evening in the living room after his campus visit. He’d been playing video games with the others but now he was just watching football and eating chips by himself.
“What’d you think of Winterfell U, Jon?”
“It was alright. Did you want the television?”
“No, I’m fine. I can watch this with you if you don’t mind.”
“Sure.”
As she took a seat beside him on the loveseat, he moved his chips out of his lap and to the coffee table. Their knees touched when he leaned forward and Sansa jerked back immediately as if he’d burned her. Why? Her brothers had little respect for personal space when they were sitting with her here. She was used it and didn’t leap like that when they touched her. Jon murmured an apology. Why? He hadn’t done anything wrong.
Gods, Arya was right. This was weird. Maybe she was the weirdo. Why did she feel so stiff around him? Why did he seem stiff, too?
Talk! Say something!
That would help, wouldn’t it?
“How’s school?” he asked just as she was asking, “What do you want to study?”
They shared an awkward chuckle before he said, “You first.”
“School’s alright. Kind of boring some days and kind of frustrating others. I won an art competition last month. First place even though I was one of the youngest to enter.”
Did that sound too braggy? Why’d she tell him that? It was just a school thing, not a big deal. Stupid.
“I know. Your dad told my mum and she told me. I think that’s great, Sansa.”
“Really? You do?”
Really?!
Her complexion loved to betray her emotions and she was embarrassed and also pleased that her dad had been bragging about her winning and that her aunt had thought it was worth telling Jon and that he was happy for her.
“’Course,” he answered, munching on another chip.
“Well…yeah, I wasn’t sure if you would’ve heard. It was just a school thing but thanks. You mother sent pictures from that fencing tournament you were in in the spring.”
“She did? Gods,” he muttered, raking his hand through his hair. He had very nice hair. She could almost picture him pulling off his fencing mask and doing the same thing after a victory, all sweaty and…manly.
She wondered again if Jon had a girlfriend. If she was his girlfriend, she wouldn’t be able to keep her hands out of his hair.
But you’re NOT his girlfriend nor will you be ever!
“Um…you were district champion, right?”
“Yeah.”
He looked a little embarrassed now. New topic.
“So, what do you think you want to study when you get to university?”
“I dunno,” he shrugged. “I don’t have any big plans yet. Do you like painting or sketching better?”
“Uh…” Were they back on art? Why? “Sketching although I like to paint sometimes. I think I want to study more of that when I grow up.”
When I grow up?! Had she just said that?! She just made herself sound like a little kid!
You are a kid.
“Anyway, I want to be an artist but I don’t know what I’ll do with it,” she finished lamely as her shoulders slumped.
Did he think she sounded like a little kid? Did ‘I want to be an artist’ sound any different than her declaration at eight that she would be marrying a prince someday?
“Cool.”
He wasn’t smirking or rolling his eyes when he said that. He sounded sincere.
Sansa relaxed…marginally.
He offered her one of his chips so she took it. He returned to eating and watching football.
As they passed the basket back and forth and the silence stretched on, Sansa stopped relaxing and started to agonize over what they might talk about next.
Jon seemed fine with just sitting there but she felt like she was ready to crawl out of her skin. She was so aware of him, of every move he made and breath he took. She was fixating on the way his lips puckered when he’d close them around a chip, for gods’ sake. What was with her? Why couldn’t she just sit next to Jon like Arya would eating chips and watching football?
Seriously panicking to come up with a new topic of discussion, she blurted out the thing that kept crossing her mind. "So, um...do you have a girlfriend?"
Oh, shit! Why did you ask him that?!
She wasn't sure Jon heard her though because he started choking on a chip right then and, luckily (or unluckily), Robb turned up as she was whacking him on the back and offering him sips of water.
“What are you doing sitting here with her?” Robb asked in a tone that suggested no one expected Jon to spend time with her.
Her heart sank. Why would he sit with her anyway? It wasn’t like he’d sought her out. She’d come upon him and invaded his space.
“We’re watching the match,” Jon said with a touch of annoyance. Was he annoyed with her now that Robb pointed things out?
“Since when do you watch football, Sans?”
“I’ve watched it plenty!”
“Oh yeah? Which teams are playing then?”
“The yellow team and the blue team.”
Robb started laughing and her breath caught in her throat because she really wanted to cry for some reason. Why wasn’t she allowed to spend time with Jon? To sit with Jon and watch a stupid game?
“She’s keeping me company and keeping me from eating all the chips by myself,” Jon cut in. He gave her a playful smile and she thought she might cry for another reason now. He was so sweet.
She grinned back at him, not caring if her face was crimson at the moment.
“Whatever,” Robb scoffed. “It’s a replay anyway. Wanna go into town with me? I’ll introduce you to my girl and some of our friends. Might come in handy if you’re really thinking of Winterfell U.”
“Okay, sure,” Jon said, casting another look her way before setting the basket of chips back down between them.
“Where are you taking him?” she asked Robb, not liking that she was clearly being left behind or that Robb might be introducing Jon to older teens…maybe older, female teens.
“The Library.”
The Library was not a library. It was a coffeehouse, popular with the university students and the local kids who were old enough to drive. There was live music there some nights and even poetry readings occasionally. Sansa thought it sounded very grown up. Robb’s girlfriend liked it which was the only reason he went. Otherwise, he’d probably suggest going for slushies or something.
“It’s Sunday night,” she said as Jon started to rise. I want to go, too.
“So?”
“We’ve got school tomorrow and it’s already after nine.” If I can’t go, you shouldn’t be allowed to go.
“Uh huh, we do but Jon doesn’t and he’s our guest and Dad said okay. Don’t wait up for us, Pippi Longstockings,” Robb added with a smirk before tugging her braid like he was always doing which always made her scowl at him which always made him laugh.
“Ugh, Robb!”
She hated when he did that but she hated it most of all tonight. She hated being reminded that she was younger and that her braided red hair made him think of a freckled fictional girl who never wanted to grow up. Sansa wanted to be grown up. She wanted Jon to think she was grown up…and pretty, too.
Jon didn’t call her Pippi Longstockings but he was grinning as he grabbed his jacket. He followed her brother out the door but leaned back in to say, “Have a good night, Sansa. Thanks for keeping me company.”
“Oh…you’re welcome,” she replied softly.
Great. Now, her tummy was all knotted up from all the chips she’d eaten…and maybe something else.
The next night, the night before Jon and Aunt Lyanna were to fly back to Dorne, Sansa overheard her parents and aunt talking in the kitchen when she was coming to get a drink. They were talking about the campus visit and how Lyanna wasn’t sure she’d liked it.
“It’s a good university. He’d have family nearby,” her father countered.
“True but it kills me thinking of my baby so far away from me,” her aunt whined kind of sweetly.
“I can hardly blame you. Robb keeps talking about going to Riverlands. I try not to grimace too visibly.”
“She’s not very successful at it,” her father said in reply to her mother’s statement and the three adults laughed.
Sansa was still standing outside the doorway, rooted to her spot. She shouldn’t eavesdrop but would they keep talking this freely if they knew she was here?
Curious like a cat and quiet as a mouse, she waited for the right moment to walk in…when they weren’t saying anything interesting anymore.
“I can’t believe how much Jon favors you, Ned.”
“He certainly looks like a Stark.”
Why wouldn’t he? Sansa thought. He was a Stark. He wasn’t her Uncle Arthur’s biological son and Jon’s biological father was never mentioned by anyone. She could see how he favored her father and Uncle Benjen both though she’d never thought much of it.
“Arya reminds me of you at that age, Lya.”
Sansa smiled at that. The sisters still found themselves at odds here and there but not as often as they once had and Arya had confessed recently that she didn’t believe she was pretty. Sansa had assured her that she was pretty because, even when they fought and nearly hated each other, they never really hated each other and she didn’t want Arya to be down on herself.
But their aunt was beautiful and, if Arya looked like her aunt at that age, she was clearly meant to be a beauty, too.
She started to join them at last when her aunt said, “And Sansa favors you greatly Catelyn. She’s truly radiant and you’re going to have a very difficult time keeping the boys away soon, I’m afraid, Ned.”
Was that true? Sansa believed she was pretty but radiant? No one had ever called her radiant.
Her father laughed and said something too low for Sansa to hear but it didn’t matter because suddenly she was consumed with something else.
Jon looked like her father and Sansa looked like her mother. Or did when they were younger. Why did that sound so romantic to her? What was wrong with her? She didn’t see her father at all when she looked at Jon. She just saw Jon…who was hot.
She heard footsteps approaching behind her and, not wishing to be caught eavesdropping, she whirled quickly as if she was heading from the kitchen instead of towards it.
“Hey, Sansa.”
“Hey!”
Jon’s eyes widened at the way she’d squeaked that. He must have taken his contacts out already because he was wearing his glasses. It only made him cuter. His hair was messy and she wanted to run her fingers through it so badly. Why did she...
Oh gods.
Like a ton of bricks, it hit and Sansa realized precisely what was going on. Maybe she should've earlier. She’d had a few of them by now. But she never expected this with him.
Regardless, it was time to confess...to herself anyway. She had herself a big, fat crush on her hot cousin Jon.
“I was going to get a Coke,” he said, pointing to the kitchen.
“A Coke, huh? We’ve got some of those.”
“I know. I’ve been here a few days now.”
“Right.” We’ve got some of those? Argh!! She sounded like such a dork. Or at least, everything sounded stupid inside her head. Her brain seemed like it was short-circuiting or something with him standing right there in his glasses and tight tee and looking so desirable. She felt like all he had to do was look at her and he’d know what she was thinking.
“Robb and I were thinking about watching a movie. Wanna join us? I was gonna grab some more of your mum’s chip and we could share the loveseat again so you could keep me from eating them all.” He was grinning at her. Gods, why’d he have to be so damn cute grinning like that?!
“A movie? Uh…yeah. That’d be…”
A movie with Jon? On the loveseat together? With their knees possible touching and maybe their thighs or arms? While Jon passed the chips back and forth as she was attempting to cope with this shiny new revelation that she was majorly crushing on him?! And while Robb was there with them?!
I’ll implode!!
“Thanks but I was just getting some water and I was going to head to bed.”
“Bed? It’s 8:30.”
Damn, it was early. Even Rickon was still up. “I’ve got reading to do for Lit. I like to read in bed.”
“Oh, I like to read in bed, too. What’s the book?”
“Um…I forgot the title.” His grin turned into a confused frown. “It’s a boring book. It’ll probably put me right out and…” She feigned a yawn. “Wow, I’m really beat. Goodnight, Jon.”
His confused frown had changed into something more closely resembling a kicked puppy and now she felt like crap.
Damn it. Stupid lying idiot with a stupid crush. Someone please just kill me now.
“Okay then, Sansa. Goodnight,” he said uncertainly before moving past her into the kitchen where the grownups were still talking. They immediately broke off whatever they were talking about to greet him.
Sansa flew up the stairs, sniffling back frustrated tears, not daring to look back.
Jon left early the next morning with his mother before it was time to leave for school. Sansa hugged him tightly when their turn to say goodbye came and told him she would miss him. He just nodded and gave her a crushing hug in return.
She thought of him non-stop it seemed for the next three months. She wrote about him in her diary each night. She created elaborate fantasies in her head about wearing slinky dresses in front of him or saying clever, witty things and him really seeing her then. She pictured what she'd say to him the next time they met and maybe offering to watch a movie with him or maybe he'd take her to The Library. She daydreamed about him coming over to the house regularly because he hated the dorms at Winterfell U and he'd wind up spending tons of time with just her when everyone else was conveniently gone.
Or not.
Around three months after he’d left and Sansa had spent so much energy pining for her cousin down in Dorne, her father told them that Jon had been offered a scholarship at the university his step-father had attended in Dorne and wouldn’t be coming to Winterfell U after all.
Sansa wouldn’t see him again for five years.