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It was well past midnight. The stars twinkled, the night breeze blew, and all was silent. Well, all except three figures standing in front of the Stark family’s house, who were currently arguing in whispered voices.
“Now, remember, open the door slowly. It’s super creaky, and a bunch of them are really light sleepers.”
“Your family’s upstairs. No matter how light they sleep, I don’t think they’ll hear us opening the front door.”
“I don’t know about that. One time my mom heard Jon and Ygritte…” Bran paused. “Jojen! You’re opening it way too fast!”
Jojen Reed gave a frustrated sigh in reply. “You do it, then. It’s your house.”
Bran rolled his eyes, wishing it was light enough for Jojen to see him. “I would, but I’m trying to keep your sister from dropping me.”
“Nice to know you have so much faith in me, Bran.” Meera chuckled, causing Bran to slightly bounce up and down. They’d decided Bran’s wheelchair would make too much noise and definitely wake at least one of the sleeping Starks, so they’d left it in the garage for the night. The stronger of the Reed siblings, Meera had taken on the responsibility of carrying Bran back into the house- which Bran had no problem with, although he wish she’d chosen another method of doing so. Not only was piggyback riding slightly uncomfortable, it looked ridiculous and Bran was thankful for the lack of light.
“Well, my life is in your hands,” Bran whispered. “As well as the rest of me." Suddenly, he realized that the front door's creaking had long since stopped, and turned to his other friend. "Jojen, why did you stop opening the door?”
“You told me to stop,” Jojen muttered back.
“No, I told you to open it slower!”
“Remind me to never sneak out with you guys again,” Jojen groaned, resuming his door-opening; slower this time, thankfully. With only minimal creaking, the Starks’ front door swung open. Jojen, followed by Bran and Meera, deliberately tiptoed into the kitchen- quiet as a shadow, as Arya’s crazy fencing instructor would say. Bran glanced at the microwave clock, which read 2:35. Exactly three hours and five minutes past his curfew. Wonderful.
“You say that every time we sneak out. Now close the door,” Meera instructed her younger brother, bending down to keep Bran from sliding off her back. “Quietly, quietly…there.” She turned around to admire Jojen’s work, taking Bran with her. “We’re inside, safe and sound and in one piece.”
“Next time, we’re using the ladder,” Jojen remarked, leaning back against a kitchen cabinet and slightly crinkling the plastic bag in his hand.
Crap. All the stressing over getting in the house had made Bran temporarily forget the green, illegal reason they'd snuck out in the first place.
“Guys, I thought we were going to leave it outside,” Bran whispered, temporarily letting go of Meera’s bony shoulder and gesturing to the plastic bag.
“Outside?” Although Bran couldn’t see Meera’s facial expression, her surprised tone of voice told all. “Yeah, and your dad won’t suspect anything when he goes out for his morning walk and sees three bags of pot in the front yard.”
“I didn’t mean in the front yard,” Bran argued. “We could hide it in the garage or something. I just…don’t think it should be in the house.”
“Too risky,” was Meera’s adamant answer. “What if your parents go in the garage, or one of your siblings takes their dog to play in the yard? We’ll just keep it in your room until tomorrow. You’ve already told your mom not to come into your room anymore, right?” She giggled. “Because you're a growing boy and it makes you uncomfortable.”
“You guys owe me,” Bran muttered. Honestly, he didn’t have to say that- he knew the Reeds would make tonight’s hassle up to him with nature hikes, delicious organic meals, and all-around good times. They always did. Jojen and Meera were by far the best friends Bran had ever had, and Bran didn't regret befriending them one bit. Even if they did occasionally put him at risk of getting arrested.
Jojen, who’d been quietly snickering during this whole conversation, started to say something, but another noise made him stop short. This noise didn’t come from Bran or Meera, or from the kitchen at all. It came from the floor above them. And although Bran tried to come up with any other explanation, there was no mistaking the sound of footsteps.
Bran’s heart quickened, and he felt Meera’s shoulders tense underneath his grasp. If they’d somehow woken up one of his parents, Bran was screwed. He’d be grounded for eternity, possibly sent to juvie, and wouldn’t be able to see the Reeds for the next fifty years.
“Okay,” Meera whispered, so softly that Bran had to lean his head forward to hear her. Her hair smelled like wildflowers, he noted. “Don’t panic. Everyone stay very still and keep very quiet. If they don’t hear anything, they won’t come into the kitchen.”
“I’m so sorry, guys,” Bran mumbled. “I told you my family was full of light sleepers. Maybe if Jojen hadn’t opened the door so fast…”
“Don’t you dare blame me!”
The footsteps grew louder and louder; whoever it was was clearly walking downstairs. Bran began to realize that they didn’t sound like his father’s slow, plodding footsteps, or his mother’s brisk, fast-paced ones. An inkling of hope leaped in his chest. If it wasn’t his parents…Bran tried to figure out which of his siblings would be willing to let this whole thing go. Hopefully, Arya would have his back, considering the amount of times he’d covered for her over the years. And he could probably blackmail Robb into not blabbing by threatening to tell their parents what Robb and Theon really got up to over spring break.
“Well, it was nice knowing you guys,” Jojen whispered as the sound of the footsteps continued to escalate.
“Look, Bran,” Meera whispered, “if worst comes to worst, we’ll cover for you. We’ll say that we were smoking, and you had nothing to do with it, and we’ll…”
And that was when Meera’s heartfelt statement was cut off by a flash of blinding light and the voice of the last person Bran would ever expect to encounter at half-past-two A.M.
“Bran?”
Bran blinked, dazed by the sudden influx of light, and gazed at the newcomer incredulously. “Rickon?”
Yes, it was Rickon Stark, clad in dinosaur pajamas and holding a flashlight, who now faced the trio. He shone his flashlight on the three intruders, open-mouthed. “What are you guys doing here?” he whispered, thankfully having the sense to keep quiet. “You’re supposed to be asleep!”
Bran tried to think on his feet. Most of the time, Rickon was incredibly easy to manipulate; but in some cases, Rickon could be more stubborn than Robert Baratheon. It would’ve helped if Bran had something to bribe Rickon with, like candy or cookies. However, Bran knew his mom would kill him if he even talked about the only thing he happened to have in his possession in front of Rickon. “We were asleep,” he began lamely, “but we had to go to the bathroom, and…”
“You snuck out, didn’t you?” Rickon’s voice was firm, and Bran realized his kid brother was more astute than he thought. Not waiting for an answer, Rickon directed his gaze to the bag in Jojen’s hand. “And what are you guys doing with all that broccoli?”
Broccoli?
If the circumstances weren’t so grave, Bran would’ve laughed out loud. He heard Meera give a cough that only vaguely hid a giggle, and he definitely heard Jojen snort. Well, he admired his mom’s ability to keep Rickon completely oblivious to the Reeds' profession. In Bran's opinion, weed looked more like oregano than broccoli, but he wasn't about to correct his brother.
“We, uh, went out for some late-night broccoli shopping,” Bran whispered quickly. He knew Rickon's days of believing in unicorns and the stork were over, but he prayed his brother still had some of his first-grade gullibility left. “And then we sat around and ate broccoli. For fun- you know, healthy eating. That's all we did. But listen, it’s very important that you don’t…”
“You guys went out late at night,” Rickon repeated, lips pouted, “and you didn’t invite me?” His tone was plaintive and wistful, the same way it got whenever Bran rejected Rickon's invitation to play Mario Kart in favor of going over the Reeds'. And despite the situation, Bran felt a little bit terrible.
Luckily, Jojen butted in before Bran could even contemplate how to respond. “Hey, Rickon,” he said matter-of-factly. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”
Bran felt like punching himself in the face, ashamed of his own stupidity. “Jojen has a very good point." He stared at Rickon, trying to imitate the look his father gave Sansa when he caught her using the car without permission last week. “Why are you out of bed?”
Rickon paused. He looked down at the perfectly tiled floor, and Bran was pretty sure he wouldn’t be going to juvie after all. “I couldn't sleep, and I got hungry,” the youngest Stark mumbled. “I went to get a snack.”
“Well,” Bran replied, “it looks like both of us are awake when we're not supposed to be. So I think all four of us should quietly go back upstairs, and never talk about tonight again, especially in front of Mom and Dad. Is that a good plan?"
Rickon gazed from Jojen to Meera to Bran, and then looked back at the flashlight in his own guilty hands. Finally, he nodded. "Okay...if I can still have a snack." He raised his eyebrows at the trio, and Bran smiled- Rickon always had to have the last word.
“Why not?” asked Meera with a smile, reaching into the cupboard and taking out a package of Hostess cupcakes. She threw them to Rickon, who caught them, smiling gleefully. Rickon switched off his flashlight, which Bran was sure was the one that had disappeared from the family first-aid kit two months ago, and began tiptoeing toward the stairs. Suddenly, his light footsteps stopped once more.
“Hey, Meera, Bran won’t admit it, but he likes it when you carry him." Rickon's whisper echoed across the room.
Meera gave another stifled laugh. “I’m sure he does,” she replied, and Bran was glad it was too dark for anyone to see the flush in his cheeks.
Over the next few weeks, Ned and Catelyn Stark noticed something a bit strange regarding their youngest son. Rickon, who usually treated vegetables like normal people would treat roadkill, infectious diseases, or Joffrey Baratheon, had apparently developed a liking for broccoli. He insisted they buy two bags of it during a family shopping trip at Costco, and piled heaps of it on his plate during dinner. Rickon especially seemed to enjoy eating broccoli when Jojen and Meera came over to spend time with Bran; he’d make a great show of sitting beside them, holding up the broccoli, and eating it, a huge smile on his face. Strange behavior, indeed.
However, after a brief discussion, Ned and Cat decided not to dwell too much on Rickon’s newfound broccoli craving. After all, Rickon was eating his vegetables, something his parents had been unsuccessfully trying to get him to do since he’d grown teeth. And if they made a big deal of it, Rickon was sure to stop eating broccoli, because that’s just how he was. So, Ned and Cat shrugged their shoulders, figured Rickon wanted to attract the attention of the granola-crunching, organic-food-loving Reeds (he always seemed to get attached to his brothers' friends, after all) and decided to let it be.
For their part, Bran, Jojen, and Meera smiled and nodded encouragingly whenever Rickon showed off his broccoli-eating, and accepted a piece of broccoli from him every time he offered. Bran also asked Rickon to help him introduce the Reeds (who’d never touched a video game in their lives) to Mario Kart- partly to thank him after what had undeniably been the closest call of Bran’s life, and partly because Bran had missed spending time with his brother after all. And true to their promise, neither Bran nor Rickon mentioned that fateful night in the kitchen ever again.
(Bran and the Reeds used the back door next time, just in case.)