Colin Farrell on Ireland voting yes to gay marriage. "It’s just…EVERYWHERE! And everyone’s dancing… And old and young alike, the whole country came together as a massive gesture of love, so that’s a really cool thing.“
prompt for gendrya: 5 times Gendry saw Arya Stark truly smile
sorry for the wait!! but thank you so so so much for the prompt :)
two falling sparks, one willing fool (or 5 times Gendry sees Arya Smile)
Gendry had a theory.
While there were definitely other more important things that occupied his mind, and things that he spent his time thinking about, he swears that this was just something that would come and go.
The theory was: the only time Arya was really, truly, smiling was when she was unaware of it.
And it’s stupid, but the thought makes him smile himself and she’d probably kick his ass if she ever found out what goes around in his head but-
He can’t pinpoint exactly how or when, but there came a time where he had learned Arya. At least enough to know when she smiled for real. It was something that he took pride in; she was a fairly hard person to get a read on. Not that it was a conscious effort. No. Just something that he learned over time.
He could just tell a genuine smile from a false front.
The first time he sees her genuinely smile is when he meets her for the first time.
Stuck with Lommy and Hot Pie, taking heat for something he had nothing to do with, here he is, sentenced with scraping gum and other questionable sticky clumps off of the cafeterias chairs and tables.
Yoren, the history teacher, the only teacher in this high school that Gendry was confident didn’t totally hate teenagers (at least not yet), handed over buckets and what looked like butter knives to each of them, with a pair left for him.
For a second, he thought that his sympathy extended to actually helping them. It took him by surprise and he said so.
“Me?” he laughed, as if the thought was so absurd. “That’s cute kid, but no. I’d never be able to stand again.”
Yoren leaves without saying who and leaves them to it.
Half an hour in, he thought whoever was supposed to be here would never show, but he hears her music before he even sees her because he recognizes it, and it’s that fucking loud, he wonders how she’s not deaf.
He’d known her from around. The hallways standing with a sophomore he thinks is named Micah, in the papers with the rest of her family when Governor Stark came into office, a few parties here and there, and he’s confident that even though she has no idea who he is, and not sure how and who added who, but they’re friends on Facebook.
Her clothes look expensive with the distinctive trademark fashion of the well-off. But she’s a walking contradiction with her old, worn out and ratty looking pair of Converse. She’s got this bored look on her face and yet, still doesn’t quite lose the aristocratic air that one’s born with the kind of family she’s from. So, sue him if he was 100% expecting her to bitch, whine and ditch.
But she surprises him by nodding to no one in particular, letting her messenger bag riddled with buttons that’s falling apart at the seams with a thud, grabs the bucket and knife, and goes to work.
Lommy and Hot Pie are not so subtly speculating as to why she might be with them suffering the same sentence. From what he’s heard, it was the bloody nose she gave Joffrey. He can’t say that he blames her. It was about time someone decked that jackass. What amuses him is that while he was taller than Joffrey, she would had to have reached quite a bit to throw the punch.
He knows she can hear, but she stonily hacks away at a particularly stubborn piece of gum stuck to the chair, with a scabbed over white knuckled grip.
Hot Pie’s scratching against the chair so fast Gendry’s worried it might actually catch fire.
He doesn’t even stop, in fact, if it’s even possible, he’s scratching at it even faster. “Didn’t ask”
tough shit, I didn’t ask to be here either .”
He hears her snort, and it’s so loud at first he thinks she sneezed. But, no, he turns to see that she’s grinning at the underside of a chair, and finds himself smirking too.
More often than not, it would be just the two of them at Motts. It started when he saw her walking home and asked if she wanted a ride at the last day of their community service and celebrate their freedom.
She put her feet on the dash and changed the radio station within seconds of getting in his truck, and all he could do was scoff fondly at Hot Pie and Lommys reaction. He’d have given them an earful had it been any of the two, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her off and, well, he just knew.
From there, there was an effortlessness to the way they moved around each other. She took him completely by surprise at how much a part of his life she’d become. Gradually, it was her phone number in his phone saved as m’lady, both the jackets and hoodies she’d “borrow”, the distinct smell that would linger in his truck, the crap ton of selfies she’d leave on his phone, Nymeria’s fur everywhere in the upholstery despite that happening one time, and the inside jokes they shared. He was surprised how much he needed her and he hoped that she needed him the same way. He never thought he’d ever be this close to a girl, much less having a female best friend.
And he likes it.
When Hot Pie and Lommy were around, they’d go out, but he likes this especially. He likes the companionship of them working in silence. He’d disappeared under the truck that came in a week ago, tinkering around, and she’s on the patched up sofa they picked up off the sidewalk on a whim that now sits in the middle of the garage, sprawled out with her headphones she’d long abandoned, having the radio loud instead and textbooks scattered about her like she’d been there forever, like she belonged there. He made sure he always had something to do with his hands because it was getting harder and harder to be around her, and he knew what that meant, but-
He wasn’t going to be that guy.
Suddenly, he’s being pulled out from under and the smell of freshly baked bread hits him. Lommy and Arya are on the couch while he and Hot Pie are on the ground. He’d missed the joke that everyone was laughing at, but he smiles anyway when he sees her head thrown back with a smile, as she kicks Lommy off the couch. She might as well have kicked him in the gut with what it was doing to him. He turns to see Hot Pie with an eyebrow raised at him and the smile on his face vanishes.
He’s on the roof, trying to climb in through her window and sees her with only the laptop light illuminating her face, and she’s smiling at something and…
… he falls with a thud that knocks the wind right out of him.
“Seven hells, I haven’t done that since the 10th grade,” he groans, and she’s at his side in seconds where he’s on his back.
“Are you okay?” He hears her laugh, typical. Here he is physically injured and she’s laughing, but despite everything, he’s laughing too.
He’s trying to catch his breath. Somehow seeing her smile stretched out across her face, highlighted by the streetlight that would go out and come back on, with her hair tickling his cheeks doesn’t seem to be helping. He closes his eyes trying not to let her figure out what he’s thinking.
I’m royally fucked, that’s what
“Yeah, I’m fine. You don’t think they heard, do you?”
She scoffs as she takes her place on her bed. “You worry too much.”
Someone has to
He freezes in place because he didn’t think this part through. For a moment, he sees his life flash before his eyes when he remembers that she had 3 brothers that could kick his ass and one sister that would fucking murder him with a smile on her face if he so much as thought about Arya the wrong way.
Was he really going to sit next to her on her bed, behind her closed bedroom door, unsupervised, at night?
Yes. Yes he was.
An hour and a half later, Fezzik, Inigo, Princess Buttercup and Westley are riding off into the sunset and the credits roll. He found it strange that she’d never seen it before.
“Hot Pie is Fezzik, Lommy is Inigo, and you’re Princess Buttercup.”
“What, why do I have to be the princess?”
It was a sort of game they had, casting each other in roles of movies they watched.
He shrugs, “It just fits.”
“And, what, you’re Westley?” she snorts derisively, but double takes when she catches him staring at her.
He doesn’t realize until later what he’s just said. and he stutters under her own stare but has no time to backtrack until she says.
“Ha! Fuck that, you can be Princess Buttercup. I’m Inigo Montoya.”
She’s a junior now, and he’s surprised she’s stuck around. Not that he’s complaining. He’s really not. He was expecting her to ditch and move on without really saying anything after he graduated. But, she made it clear that she wasn’t going anywhere when she demanded that he, Hot Pie and Lommy suffer with her at Sansa’s 18th birthday party.
“She’s just turning 18. Honestly, I don’t see the big deal.” She says it like she’s dreading going, but he can tell how proud she is.
He looks around the room and while Lommy and Hot Pie are eating enough for a whole village, having no trouble whatsoever enjoying the party, but he just can’t find it in him to. His skin feels like it’s shrunk two size and maybe it’s paranoia, but the moment he’d arrived, he felt like very single pair of eyes were burning a hole on the back of his head. There’s no denying that it’s the nicest party he’s ever been to, and when she leaves his side to take pictures he’s never felt more out of place. But the party fades around him and he can only focus on one thing.
She’s standing there with the rest of her family.
Governor Stark, Dr. Stark, Senator Robb Stark with his fiance Jeyne Poole, future Attorney Sansa Stark, Bran Stark, smartest of all the Stark kids, Rickon Stark, star hockey player of the Direwolves and Arya, aspiring artist with so much potential, and Jon Snow, the Private Investigator, with all their million dollar smiles. At least he’s sure what it’s going to say in the papers the next day.
He can tell it’s forced and he laughs to himself when the official photographer raises her finger for just one more and that she’s just seconds away from ripping his head off.
She decides to ditch the reception altogether and she nicks a wine bottle and drags him out to the parking lot, barefoot, having ditched her heels sometime in the night. It was freezing back in the function room, but he thinks his temperature spikes when she slots her fingers through his, abandoning their friends to the buffet. He doesn’t dare let go. They’re sitting in the back of her brother’s truck. She was dangerous for him like this, all affectionate and disorientated. She whispers with a breathy laugh that makes him shiver from the inside out, “You’re never getting rid of me, okay. You’re stuck with me.”
“Okay.” Like he actually had much of a choice.
“I think that’s enough.” He tugs the wine bottle out of her grasp and she settles at his side, she laughs again against his neck, warm gust of breath hitting the side of his neck, and he inhales sharply, for a split second, forgets how to breathe.
Arya’s giggling and stops then, suddenly, like she just realised something, she laughs again oh my god, ass!
He laughs a little himself, “What?”
“Ass, Gendry!” Like repeating it would make it make sense.
He shakes his head, “I don’t-” and he swallows thickly when he sees her staring at him, with a dazed smile, a smile that he’s never seen before. He’d never been much of a poet, maybe a sap, but she looked really fucking happy. And that made him happy. "Arya, I don’t understand.“
When she’s calmed down, she says, “When she graduates, she’ll be Attorney Sansa Stark.”
It takes him a while for him to connect the dots and he just rolls his eyes. She falls asleep with her head on his lap, with his jacket as a pillow, and a smile on her face and he hopes for the night to never end. He does his best not to move, feeling oddly honored that she decided to fall asleep on him. It was a lot like the first time he got a cat and it was an amusing thought to have.
Gendry had another theory: even though she had this self-professed obsession with wolves, she was honestly just a big cat.
The same unknown number is calling for the fourth time, but judging by the fact that they seemed pretty damned determined to get a hold of him and the handful number of people who knew him and of his friendship (if you could still call it that, these days, it was pretty fucking hard to tell), he can guess who it was.
He debates leaving it to ring. He wasn’t obligated to answer, but he figured Sansa, or at least he thought it was Sansa (it was likely that it could have been Margaery, nosey little shits), was never going to stop. She was really determined when she set her mind on anything. And he knows exactly what this is about.
Lately, he’d been cancelling every time Arya would ask to hangout. He’d bullshit his way through his excuses whether it was because he was working, or sick, or busy. It was getting harder and harder to say no.
The first time was the hardest. He didn’t need to see the caller ID to know it was her, she had her own ringtone. That should have been the first sign.
“Hey,” she hesitates, and he curses under his breath, “What’re you doing later?”
“Actually, I’m actually down with something. It’s pretty bad. Maybe tomorrow?”
“What, you never get sick,”
He laughs mirthlessly, and he just wishes the call would end, because he’s just so tired of lying. “Yeah, I know. I’ll call you.”
He ends the call before he has the chance to say anything else.
Tomorrow, turns into next time, which becomes next week, and it’s been almost a month now. He’d thought that the distance would help figure things out, but he’s pretty sure that the only thing hes figured out is that he’s just useless without her, which he knew already.
He takes a deep breath and exhales and answers,
“Gendry! Thank God, I didn’t think you were going to answer-” the voice says before he can get a word
“Sansa, whatever you’re going to say, it’s not going to change-”
“Look, just listen.”
Strangely, it’s enough to silence him.
“I won’t pretend to know why you’re punishing yourself and won’t let yourself be happy but, before I kick your ass, because trust me I can and I will, I’ll give you the privilege of giving me a good reason not to.”
“How generous of you.”
He’s met with silence and all he can do is sit down. “I don’t know what you want me to say that you don’t already know.”
“Why are you avoiding her?”
It’s not like he doesn’t want to. Gods, all he wants to do is be around her. But it was too much. He can’t- He just couldn’t do it. She was everywhere. She was in the air that he was breathing, in his space, in his head.
“Because, I sure as hell don’t know, if you could clue me in on that, that’d be-”
“Because I don’t trust myself, alright? Is that what you want to hear? That I cannot, for the life of me, keep lying to my best friend? That it just kills me whenever she’s around? Or when she tells me about some dumbass who’s no less deserving than I am of her? That I never will be? That- That all I want to do is just tell her how I feel?”
“Why don’t you?”
He swears he has a heart attack when he sees her right there, standing right in front of him, fists clenched at her sides, looking like she’s ready to take a swing at him and his first thought is-
“What are you-”
“You fucking liar!”
It stings more than it should, but no less than he deserves.
“What did you hear?”
She’s stalking towards him, and he has this wild instinct that’s telling him to run, but he’s too overwhelmed to even move.
“Did you mean it?” she’s searching his face for any proof, and he can barely breathe because she’s so close now.
“Did you mean it?”
She’s staring him down, and all he can do is stare back at her. The look of utter hope and devastation has him surrendering.
Before he’s even finished saying “Yes”, she throws her arms around him, and it knocks the wind out of him, as he stumbled backwards. And purely instinctual, like the first time she held his hand, his hands find their place around her, and his lips on hers, and crushes her to him.
She breaks away and slides down slowly, breathing heavily, his face following hers, eyes not quite open. While her hands are still gripping the lapels of jacket, his have moved from around her to her face, looking at her, almost like he’s making sure she’s really there. He feels more than sees her smiling into the kiss when she kisses him again, and he hugs her tight, burying his face into her hair .
“I missed you,”
“And who’s fault is that?”
“Fucking finally!” It’s Margaery this time.
He laughs and steps out of their embrace.
And just like that, he can breathe again.
“Oh my god,” She grabs the phone from him “ hang up!”
“I think the words you’re looking for are Your Wel-”
Arya hangs up as Gendry sits on the table, blushing furiously, and looks down with a hand on the back of his neck. The look of remorse on his face was replaced with embarrassment. “Look Arya, I’m so-”
“Oh, Gods, no, nope. We are not doing that. Just shut up and kiss me.”
tadaaaaa, i hope you liked it haha :D title is from the song from afar - vance joy
A/N: This has a terrible ending but I had no idea how to finish it and I felt like I owe you guys something because I haven’t written anything in a while. I’ve been having problems with my laptop. I’m gonna try to work on the 2nd part of Ethos now, but I can’t promise much. I’m so sorry for this, it really is shitty and 100% uneditted. If you find any typos/ grammar mistakes, please do tell.