His old room at Winterfell was in the area that survived the fire.
He figures that spending a couple of nights there before regrouping and trying to get Deepwood Motte back from Asha Greyjoy won’t hinder them too much.
He doesn’t protest when Theon follows him up to his room and lies down on the ground, in the corner opposite the bed.
He should ignore it when he’s woken by a muffled scream.
But all he can think of is a couple of times when he was six or seven and had ended up sleeping in Theon’s bed on a particularly cold or bad night and this is all wrong.
“You can share the bed,” he says, making sure that his voice is audible. He knows that Theon has to be awake – he can tell it by the way he’s breathing.
“I can’t,” comes from the other side of the room.
“I offered,” he replies, and he knows he’ll regret this, but he still raises up the covers.
Minutes later, the mattress dips on the other side. Theon keeps himself there, not trying to inch closer.
Robb should leave it like this.
Instead he forces Theon to turn around and puts a hand on his hip.
He can still feel newly growing skin under his fingertips.
“What are you doing?” Theon asks tentatively.
“I wish I knew.”
Nothing else is said, but when Theon falls asleep again, Robb can’t help thinking that like this, he looks more like he used to back in the day. When he smiled at any given occasion and his hair was so very dark.
It might be that Robb is still not completely awake, it might be that he’s back home and somehow it changes things; when he leans forward and places a single kiss on Theon’s forehead, he doesn’t stop the moment before he actually does it.
He doesn’t stop himself when he does it again the moment when he feels Theon’s maimed hand reach blindly up for his shoulder.
Re: fill: we had the greatest expectations, robb/theon, adwd spoilers, 6/6
He figures that spending a couple of nights there before regrouping and trying to get Deepwood Motte back from Asha Greyjoy won’t hinder them too much.
He doesn’t protest when Theon follows him up to his room and lies down on the ground, in the corner opposite the bed.
He should ignore it when he’s woken by a muffled scream.
But all he can think of is a couple of times when he was six or seven and had ended up sleeping in Theon’s bed on a particularly cold or bad night and this is all wrong.
“You can share the bed,” he says, making sure that his voice is audible. He knows that Theon has to be awake – he can tell it by the way he’s breathing.
“I can’t,” comes from the other side of the room.
“I offered,” he replies, and he knows he’ll regret this, but he still raises up the covers.
Minutes later, the mattress dips on the other side. Theon keeps himself there, not trying to inch closer.
Robb should leave it like this.
Instead he forces Theon to turn around and puts a hand on his hip.
He can still feel newly growing skin under his fingertips.
“What are you doing?” Theon asks tentatively.
“I wish I knew.”
Nothing else is said, but when Theon falls asleep again, Robb can’t help thinking that like this, he looks more like he used to back in the day. When he smiled at any given occasion and his hair was so very dark.
It might be that Robb is still not completely awake, it might be that he’s back home and somehow it changes things; when he leans forward and places a single kiss on Theon’s forehead, he doesn’t stop the moment before he actually does it.
He doesn’t stop himself when he does it again the moment when he feels Theon’s maimed hand reach blindly up for his shoulder.
He’ll have time to hate himself in the morning.