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“So,” Jaime started.
Brienne just covered her reddening face with her pajamas.
“We didn’t mean to break the bunk beds,” he continued, trying not to laugh. “But Brienne—”
“Leave me out of it,” she said, her voice muffled by her dragon-spotted pajamas.
“Brienne is a feisty wench and the sorest loser I’ve ever seen,” he continued gamely.
“I can’t be a sore loser, I won,” she countered behind the pajamas.
Addam was struggling not to smile. His wife was struggling not to scream.
“However we got here, we’re here,” she said flatly. “The babies are crying, and we only put them to sleep two hours ago. We can’t get a bed out here in the middle of the night, so you’ll have to make do.” She surveyed the wreckage with a disapproving eye and swept off towards the wailing.
Jaime didn’t blame her. Newborn twins were obnoxious—all of his aunts and uncles said so—and for Brienne to lose to him in such a way that destroyed their furniture had to be aggravating…
Addam was shaking his head with good humor. “Well, looks like you’ll have to push the boards off the bottom one and figure it out,” he said as he made for the door.
“Wait—” Brienne said. “We can’t—”
“You had two serviceable beds,” he said with an amused grin. “Now you have one. You’ll have to make do. I’m going to help Cenna. Those two can be a handful.” With a wink at Brienne he left and gently shut the door behind him.
Brienne slowly turned towards him and looked at him in horror. “Jaime,” she half-whispered.
“Glad to see you haven’t forgotten my name in the throes of defeat.”
“I won,” she snapped instantly. “Jaime, we’re going to have to sleep together.”
“If you look at it, we were already sleeping together. Just on two different levels. Which is kind of like our sparring skills. On two different levels.”
“Is that why you were sleeping on the bottom?” she instantly replied.
Dammit.
“I was, and now that your bed has illustriously crashed to the ground, you’re out of a sleeping spot. Not me. But I’m happy to share,” he said, giving her an extended bow. He looked up. “Fair knights always share with crones, damsels in distress, and losers—”
Brienne’s pool noodle smacked him across the face.
There was silence. And darkness.
Only one could last for long around Jaime.
“Brienne,” Jaime whispered.
“Yes,” Brienne whispered back.
“Tell me a bedtime story.”
“Jaime.”
“Great start.”
She spluttered and turned to give him a push. He caught the bed frame before he went over.
“I’m serious! Tyrion always used to tell me one when we shared a room! The bed bunks have me nostalgic!”
“The one bed, you mean,” Brienne said with a scowl. He didn’t need to see it in the dark, he could just imagine it wrinkling up her face and making her lips twist and eyes go all squinty. He sighed happily. That was the face she made when he told her she couldn’t beat him at pool noodle swords even if he had both hands tied behind his back.
And she had proceeded to wallop the ever-living shit out of him.
He sighed again and wriggled in the sheets. Amazing.
A stubborn silence reigned for two more minutes—one minute and thirty seconds more than Jaime could handle—and just as he opened his mouth to comment on the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, Brienne cleared her throat.
“Once upon a time, there was a prince,” she began shortly. “He was one of the greatest warriors the kingdom had ever seen.”
“Was he cute?” Jaime wanted to know.
She snorted.
“He decided to go on a quest. He had no rivals in his lands, for strength or swiftness—”
“Or beauty,” Jaime supplied.
Brienne snorted again, but with a bit of a laugh behind it. “Or arrogance,” she lightly continued.
Jaime elbowed her. She elbowed him right back.
“He traveled far and wide, and eventually…he found his heart’s greatest desire.”
Jaime found his breath tightening a little.
“There, in front of him, in his ugly family colors, was a mirror.” Jaime groaned.
“New story,” he said. Brienne shook her head, laughing.
“He sees this mirror,” Jaime said, slightly louder. “And then, he sees a fearsome rival, creeping up behind him in it.” He nudged her back.
Brienne hummed. “She drew her pool noodle—and thwack! She landed a perfectly legal sporting blow that knocked the handsome prince unconscious.” The handsome prince, Jaime noted with a smirk.
“Turn this way,” he said, patting the spot next to him. “I can hear you better.”
“I can hear you fine,” Brienne said, staying exactly where she was.
“The fearsome rival seemed to talk a lot of shit, but she really wasn't that fearsome. The minute the prince turned around and she saw his handsome face, she dropped the pool noodle swooning into his arms—"
Brienne flipped over immediately to put a hand over his mouth and push him to the bed. “No, no, I don’t think that’s how the story goes,” she said.
“Tough shit, Tarth,” Jaime said when he finally wrestled her arm off his mouth. “I’m confident that’s exactly what happened—” and he pulled his pillow out from under him and thwacked it across her face.
They both looked at each other, shocked.
"I didn’t mean it that hard,” Jaime said quickly. “I honestly, truly didn’t. The angle was crappy—”
Bam. Finest cotton money could buy, right across the nose.
“If you need to swoon, now’s the time to do it,” Brienne said seriously.
Jaime lunged and pushed her off the bed.
Cenna held her head in her hands. Addam rubbed her shoulders gently, laughing a little under his breath.
“I’m sorry, love,” he said with a kiss to her forehead. “I genuinely didn’t think they were going to be this bad.”
Cenna leaned against his shoulder and pushed her head against his chest. “Mmmrph. I like them in the daytime. I like them a lot.” She yawned and nuzzled her head against his chest again. “But right now I’m hard-pressed to remember why.”
Addam smirked a bit as he led her away from the cribs and back to bed. “And to think,” he said, turning off the light. “Not a single bit of it is moving Jaime any closer to actually asking Brienne out.”
Cenna groaned in frustration. “Addam. Darling. You are not telling me that you invited them over while the boys are at camp just so they’d have to share?”
Addam chuckled again and pulled her close before turning the light off. “I seem to recall being a little too nervous to ask a beautiful lady out…what, nine, ten years ago?”
“I don’t recall bunk beds having anything to do with it,” she said while pulling over the heavy covers.
“You don’t recall the moonlight in the Kingswood?” he asked. “Unexpectedly alone…the stars glimmering brightly…”
“Certain aspects are coming back,” she teased. “Vaguely.”
“Fancy that,” Addam said, pinching her side. Cenna squealed and grabbed his hand.
“It must not have been too memorable, though,” she said archly, pressing herself against him. “You might have to remind me of the rest…”
“Gladly,” he breathed, and they fell back.
Crash.
“Stranger take them,” Addam swore.
Cenna threw back her head and laughed.