Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jaime was regretting every moment of this outing with the boys. The music was too loud. The room was too smoky and dark. Except for the strobe lights that threatened to cause a seizure.

And “boys” was a very loose description of their motley group of men in their thirties. Leading the pack was his younger brother Tyrion. He decided to drag Jaime out to the loud (both sonically and in decor) nightclub. Bronn Blackwater was similar to the club - loud and tacky.

“I’d rather go to a sports bar or...or a lounge”, Jaime complained.

“You’re way too maudlin to go to an establishment where conversation is the focus. No, we are to the hottest, loudest club in Flea Bottom so you can lose yourself in the atmosphere”, Tyrion retorted.

********************

A year prior, Jaime had consciously uncoupled from his girlfriend of seven years, Elia Martell. The desire to break up was mutual and was peaceful. That was the nature of the whole relationship: mutual and peaceful. Those qualities in and of themselves were great. But what was missing was a spark.

Jaime wasn't a romantic fool. He didn't want his parents’ relationship where their connection was so placid, it might as well have been dead. Nor did he want his twin sister Cersei's relationship with her husband, Robert. Their relationship could best be described as explosive; marked by intermittent periods of understanding and tenderness.

Tyrion never met a skirt he didn't want to chase. Tyrion was best described as a rogue. Despite having dwarfism, Tyrion did well with women. At least, he was single.

The same could not be said about their friend, Bronn. At least Bronn’s marriage was an open one. Jaime didn’t see the point. Why get married if one continues to pursue and fuck others. He didn't judge though.

No, Jaime appreciated moderation. He wanted a healthy, respectful relationship. But he so wanted that unexplainable thing...that spark.

He and Elia didn't have it. The relationship was almost too comfortable to let go of. But neither of them was completely satisfied. And so after seven years, they let it go.

*********************

Tyrion had added Cersei on the call to get her to convince Jaime to go out. It was a Friday night and apparently a busy one in the Baratheon household.

“Good job making a poopy in the potty, Tommy Boy”, Cersei praised her youngest child, Tommen. He was three and still working on becoming completely potty trained.

Then she rejoined the conversation with her brothers. “I agree with Ty, perish the thought”, she spoke over the toilet flushing and the sink running.

“Thank you, Sister. But can you not talk while you are monitoring Tommy take a shit,” Tyrion gagged.

“When either of you become fathers, get back to me”, Cersei huffed. “I am getting Tommy out of pull-ups this weekend and that takes dedication and scheduling. Now, you wanted me to be on this call, I’m here.”

Jaime growled. “I don’t need an intervention. I just want to go somewhere quiet and maybe meet a nice woman.”

Cersei scoffed. Then spoke to her child. “Go downstairs and tell Joff to make a Pop-Tart for you. Okay, dove?”

Tommen's sweet voice was barely heard replying and then there was the sound of the door shutting.

“Jaime, you need to get laid”, Cersei continued without preamble.

Jaime could only sputter a response. “Wha…”

“Agreed,” Tyrion stated. “The best way to get over someone…”

“...Is to get under someone”, Cersei finished. She and Tyrion both cackled in unison.

“You two are immoral and disgusting”, Jaime suppressed a chuckle. He and Cersei were twins, but Cersei and Tyrion were more similar in personality and values.

“Seriously, Jaime. We want you to be happy. If you can’t handle the heart stuff yet, keep things light…” Cersei spoke seriously.

Tyrion cut in. “...And just lay some pipe.” Tyrion and Cersei started laughing again.

“You two are like pre-teen boys”, Jaime bit his lip to keep from laughing too.

********************

So here he was, very much regretting listening to his sibling’s advice. He was bored and he had a headache.

Women (and a couple of men) tried to engage him, but he largely waved them off. The more persistent ones, he ignored until they left him alone.

Bronn had gone off with some pretty, doe-eyed brunette. Tyrion had acted as Bronn’s wingman. But Tyrion didn’t seem to mind, as he engaged the brunette's beautiful redheaded friend in deep conversation.

Jaime finally had enough. He stood to go pay his tab and leave, then he saw her. She looked as out of place as he did.

She was sitting alone at a table near the bar. Her blonde hair was long and stick-straight. She wore some type of bedazzled hair comb that secured her side-parted hair behind her ear. The rhinestones in the comb twinkled under the flashing lights like a beacon. She looked tall and sturdy and fit wearing a spaghetti-strapped tank. Her upper arms looked like they were sculpted from the finest marble.

And as if the Gods read his thoughts; an old, yet very appropriate song began booming out the speakers: “Where did you come from, lady? And, ooh, won't you take me there. Right away, won't you, baby?”

Jaime was drawn to her like a planet is drawn to its star. And oh how she glowed and glittered like the sea in the morning.

Suddenly standing at her table, he spoke over the music, “Hi.”

Her eyes met his. “Hi”, she replied.

*********************
*********************

“Let’s go out, bitches!” Margaery Tyrell-Baratheon shouted as she spilled her wine onto her carpet.

“No”, Brienne said without looking at her. Sansa Stark looked over at Margaery and shrugged.

Margaery was one of Brienne’s best friends. They met on their mutual first day at Dragon Bank. Brienne was a forensic accountant. Margaery was a corporate trainer. Loyal, protective, and as different from Brienne as night and day. Margaery was a petite, brunette with big brown eyes. (Margaery described her eyes as the color of Highgarden soil and like the soil, she was rich and fertile).

Margaery didn't have children yet. She and her husband, Renly Baratheon, were enjoying their young marriage which included others in their bed. Both were bisexual and one of Renly’s regular lovers was his brother-in-law, Loras Tyrell.

Brienne and Sansa were scandalized by the arrangement. Well, Brienne less so as she knew Renly from her childhood. Both their extended families were based in the Stormlands. It was assumed by their family circles that Renly was queer.

But sleeping with your wife’s brother and it being known was a lot for the more conservative Brienne and Sansa.

Sansa Stark was Brienne’s roommate from university. The two became fast friends at King’s Landing College. Sansa was currently in her second year at King’s Landing School of Law.

Sansa was a beautiful, refined Northern girl. Red-haired with eyes as blue as Northern ice. Icy could be used to describe her personality, but Sansa learned to be mistrustful after some trouble with a boy back home.

Brienne could relate to trouble with boys. Not for the same reasons as pretty Sansa, but she could relate. Besides that, Sansa was tall (not as tall as Brienne) and reserved (a little less than Brienne).

And as they both sat in the Baratheon’s living room pre-gaming (because Margaery insisted they go out and no one can say “no” to Margaery), Sansa and Brienne gave each other a look.

Margaery sighed. “Okay, full disclosure...It’s Renly and Loras’ night”, Margaery exhaled. “So unless you all want it to be an awkward night, I suggest we…”

Sansa stood abruptly. “Brienne, let's go to your place to get dressed and I’ll do your makeup.”

Brienne nodded.

********************

Brienne stared at her reflection while sitting at her vanity. Sansa was always heavy-handed when applying Brienne’s eye makeup.

“If I had your eye color, Brienne…” Sansa trailed off while applying more eyeliner on Brienne’s lower lid.

“Your eyes are blue too, Sansa”, Margaery looked confused.

Sansa sighed. “Oh, please. My blue eyes look like ice cubes. Colorless. Brienne’s blue eyes are like sapphires. So pretty.”

Margaery got a cheeky look on her face. Margaery twisted her leather-clad hips. She had on the tightest, black leather dress Brienne had ever seen.

“Brienne’s got pretty everything. Eyes, great legs, great ass, and great tits. If only she liked girls.” Margaery flirted.

Brienne knew it came from a place of love, but she would not abide lies. “Margy, I barely have tits”, Brienne rolled her eyes.

“You think that matters? Big or small, I love them all”, Margaery exclaimed. A shadow crossed over Brienne’s face.

Sansa leaned over Brienne’s shoulder and met her gaze in the mirror. “No, you will not think about him and what he thought.”

Brienne let out a shuddering breath. Then she nodded at her reflection.

Margaery's brow was furrowed. “I can still have Grandmother deal with that loser.”

That loser was Brienne’s former fiancé, Hyle Hunt. He was a cheater and an all-around asshole. With the help of her friends and family; Brienne got the strength to break off the engagement and then contact altogether. It had been a year since she’d last heard from him.

But sometimes, in the quiet of the night, Brienne still wondered if she’d ever find someone to love her.

Sansa kissed Brienne on her cheek. “We love you, Bri. Never forget that”, Sansa stood. Then she stood and smoothed down her red, form-fitting sheath dress. It was Sansa’s signature style. She called it professional sexy.

As for Brienne, her friends convinced her to wear a midnight blue, sequined, loose fit, tank that Sansa bought her months prior. “To show off your arms, Brienne”, Sansa explained. Brienne finished the look with black, faux leather jeggings. Margaery gave Brienne an inspection but frowned at her ballet flats.

“Come on, Brienne. Put on some heels”, Margaery whined.

“Nope, I’ll already stand out as it is”, Brienne said as she shook her head.

Sansa paused. “Bri, you feel comfortable, right?”

Brienne stood and turned to look at her butt over her shoulder. Then she slowly smiled. She nodded.

“Okay, so let’s go, ladies”, Margaery grinned.

********************

Two hours into their outing, Margaery disappeared with an oily, older man with a receding hairline named Bronn. He seemed okay, but then he would look at both Sansa and Brienne with interest.

Margaery didn’t care. She was only looking for a one-night thing. Bronn arrived at their table with a very short man named Tyrion. Brienne thought he was attractive. He looked like a little lion with his curly blond hair and cat-like, green eyes. And when he greeted all of them at the table, his deep voice rumbled like a lion's roar.

Tyrion instantly zeroed in on Sansa. After a brief introductory conversation, Tyrion told them he was a lawyer. Sansa excitedly informed Tyrion she was in law school. Turned out, Tyrion was an alumnus of King’s Landing School of Law. He and Sansa began an oddly flirtatious discussion about the current legislative session of the Crownlands House of Commons.

Margaery and Bronn had disappeared to the dance floor shortly after the basic introductions.

Brienne knew it was time to make herself scarce.

“Sans, I’m going to go to the restroom and then get another drink”, Brienne shouted over the music. Then she walked away.

Sansa pouted at her retreating friend.

“Is she okay?” Tyrion asked.

Sansa sighed. “She got out of a bad relationship a year ago. She’s still getting back on her feet.”

Tyrion’s eyes softened. Then he pointed toward a blond man looking bored and annoyed and sitting alone. “My brother, Jaime, just got out of a seven-year relationship. A year ago. It was an amicable split.”

“If it was amicable, why did they split?” Sansa asked.

“He’s looking for a spark...a soulmate”, Tyrion shrugged.

Sansa turned back to look at Jaime and shook her head. “That sweet summer child.”

********************

Brienne sat at a table near the bar. The music was muffled there as the bartenders and wait staff needed to hear each other.

She rubbed her throbbing temples as she nursed her third cosmo. Brienne liked dancing well enough, but the DJ at this place grated her nerves. She switched genres from industrial techno to old-school house to new wave to pop without warning. It was jarring. Brienne supposed she was trying to please all the different types of patrons in the club that night. Just like Brienne was there to please her friends. And yet, Brienne was tempted to slip away to the chill-out lounge in the basement of the club. Or to slip away into the warm summer night and go home.

Ensconced in the middle of a gentrifying Flea Bottom, The Bottom (the name of the club) catered to the rough and tumble crowd that called Flea Bottom home for centuries. But with new residential and commercial development happening in the area, wealthier club goers began to kick up their heels at the establishment as well.

Brienne contemplated gentrification and displacement while getting roaring drunk when she saw a flash of gold under the dance floor’s flickering lights. She blinked and the flash was gone.

She laughed to herself. The scene reminded her of a movie she loved as a teen. The protagonist’s girlfriend was being stalked by a sexy vampire in a smoky nightclub. The vampire would vanish and reappear at the girl’s every turn amidst the pulsing lights and music.

Brienne knew she shouldn’t want to be stalked. And yet, fantasies (with Brienne as the stalked) played in her mind as she lay on her childhood bed with her fingers working furiously between her thighs.

Suddenly the flash of gold was standing in front of her small table. Brienne’s eyes adjust in the dim light. The flash of gold was a beautiful, blond-haired man with intense eyes.

He spoke over the music, “Hi.”

Feeling slightly tongue-tied, she replied,“Hi.”

********************
********************

The blond man sat, still staring at her. Then he leaned close to her ear.

“You look as bored as I am. Are you?” his breath tickled her ear and smelled of cognac. He leaned back with a tilt of his head and a grin threatening his full lips.

Brienne nodded. “Yes, this isn't my scene.”

He leaned toward her ears suddenly. “I can’t hear you that well. I think my eardrums have burst.” He smirked and then he pointed to his ear.

Brienne leaned into his space. He smelled so good. Light, but woodsy and pinch of citrus. “Yes, this isn't my scene”, she repeated.

He turned his head and their faces were inches apart. Jaime noted her plush, red lips. She smelled like chocolate and cotton candy and goodness. Then he pointed upward and whispered, “Well, this song is great at least.”

Just then the speakers blared out, “I want to love you. P.Y.T. Pretty young thing. You need some loving. T.L.C. Tender love and care. And I’ll take you there…”

The man looked at her expectantly. Brienne had never heard the song before, so she shrugged with a blank expression.

She leaned toward his ear again. “Sorry, never heard of it.”

His eyes bugged slightly and he leaned impossibly closer. His lips ghosted over the shell of her ear. In a voice that was like liquified sex, he purred, “So you must be a pretty young thing then if you’ve never.”

Normally Brienne would have looked for the lie or mockery in his words. She was too tipsy to care. Even still, she leaned back and what she saw in his eyes was pure want. He chased her backward movement and purred in her ear again, “As much as I am enjoying murmuring sweet nothings in your ear, I’d love to go someplace quieter.”

Brienne shivered as his breath tickled the sensitive spot behind her ear. “I know just the place”, she said as she stood. He took in the long length of her with his eyes and licked his lips. Brienne rubbed her thighs together at his appraisal.

He stood slowly. “Lead the way, my lady”.

She turned and headed to the chill-out lounge. She shot Sansa and Margaery a quick text to be on the safe side, but she didn't think her flash of gold posed any real danger. Only the good kind of danger. And after the previous year; no, years she’d had, she was down to be devoured.

********************

“I’m Jaime”, was the first thing he said when they reclined on plush seats in the lounge.

“Brienne”, she offered her name. She took a sip of the fresh cosmo Jaime bought her.

“A pretty name for a pretty lady”, Jaime demurred. Brienne rolled her eyes.

“What did I say?” Jaime asked, confused.

Brienne pressed her lips together. “You don’t have to lie. I know what this is.”

Jaime leaned back further into his seat. “I’m not lying. And what is this?”

Brienne pursed her lips. “You want to take me home for…”

Jaime’s expression slipped into a hungry one for a microsecond. “Who wouldn't love to take a pretty girl home?”

Brienne narrowed her eyes. “I’m not pretty.”

Jaime was taken aback. “Says who?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

Brienne was suddenly at a loss. Sputtering, she replied, “The world. Everyone.”

“All of Planetos personally told you, Brienne…” he started.

“Tarth. Brienne Tarth”, she supplied her last name.

“From the island, Tarth?” Jaime asked.

“Not for a few generations. Well, I have cousins who still live there. But I was born and raised in King’s Landing”, Brienne explained.

“I’m Jaime...Lannister”, he offered his own last name. “Born in Lannisport, but we moved to the capital when I was a kid.” Then he continued, “So, all of Planetos told Brienne Tarth she was not pretty?”

Brienne scoffed. “No, of course not. But the presiding culture tells everyone who is acceptable and who is not.”

Jaime smirked. “Ah, acceptability. Who cares?”

“Easy for you to say. You’re gorgeous”, Brienne let slip out. But he was. Symmetrical, beautiful and golden. Perfect.

“Thank you, pretty lady”, Jaime said. Brienne huffed.

“Can you just let me compliment you?” Jaime asked.

“Name one thing that you think is pretty about me...and don’t say my eyes”, Brienne challenged.

“So you do know your eyes are...breathtaking?” Jaime bit his lip.

“Yeah, and that’s what everyone defaults to when they can’t find much else”, Brienne said dryly.

Jaime nodded and accepted the challenge. “Your skin. It glows. Your hair. It must be blindingly beautiful in the sunshine. Your lips. Absolutely sexy. Your freckles. I can see them through your makeup. They’re cute. Your arms. Cut by the Warrior himself. Your hands. Long and tampering and delicate. Your shoulders. Broad and majestic. Your neck. Swanlike. Your…” he looked down at her breasts and swallowed. “nipples. I bet they are pink and perky”, his voice got husky.

“Your long, long, long legs. You’re so tall like every goddess worth her salt should be. Your bum…” he paused and made a noise in the back of his throat. “Well, I'll stay with the clean version of what I’m thinking; but it’s great. Just perfect.”

Jaime smirked. “Shall I continue, Brienne? Because I am really digging your outfit and how it looks on you.”

Brienne blushed but came with a rebuttal. “Once the shiny clothes and makeup are gone, I’m plain at best”, she proclaimed, being honest with herself and him.

Jaime shook his head. “Naw, when you wake up bared-faced and naked in my bed, you’ll still be pretty.” Brienne bit her lip and turned even redder.

“You insinuated that's what this is, not me”, Jaime teased with a shrug.

********************

The next morning, Brienne woke up in a strange bed. Then she remembered the previous night. Green eyes were staring at her.

Jaime smiled. “Good morning, Pretty Lady.”

But it wasn’t just a one-night stand. It was a spark - the start of forever.