FIC * Puffs of white smoke * ASOIAF * Jon, Robb

[renrenren3]

Title: Puffs of white smoke
Fandom: ASOIAF
Characters: Jon Snow, Robb Stark
Words: ~500
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Summary: Modern AU. Robb has almost quit smoking. Almost.
Beta: none
Notes: Written for the wardrobe table (6. coat) @ think_fluff and also for mission 6.2 ("winter") of the COW-T 2 @ maridichallenge.



Cambridge is cold on a winter night, but Robb can't smoke inside the flat because Jon hates the smell. He wraps himself in his coat and goes outside, leaning against the metal rail of their tiny balcony. His foot bumps into one of the flowerpots from back when they decided to try and grow their own miniature garden, a venture that didn't even last two weeks before all the plants died. Robb makes a mental note to clean all the rubbish from the balcony whenever they have time, even though he knows they'll never have the time, or the willpower.

He gets his packet of cigarettes from the jacket's pocket and lights one, blowing a first mouthful of smoke into the chilly air. It's freezing outside and Robb isn't wearing his shoes, so he rubs one foot over the other to keep warm. The smoke and his breath make little white clouds in front of his nose.

Robb's halfway through his cigarette when the door opens and Jon pops his head outside. "There you are," Jon says, wrinkling his nose at the sight of Robb smoking. "I thought you quit."

"Almost," Robb says. "I like one every once in a while. You don't mind, do you?"

There's a pause, a couple of seconds of uncomfortable silence, just enough to tell him that Jon minds. It was Theon Greyjoy who got them smoking in high school, and he would have had them graduating to worse than pot if he hadn't got himself arrested. Jon doesn't like to remember that detail of their high school career, and Robb doesn't blame him for that.

Robb's almost quit smoking, though, almost being the key word here. He brings the cigarette to his lips again. "I'll be back in a minute, close the door or you'll let all the cold inside."

"All right," Jon says, but instead of going back inside he steps on the balcony, closing the door behind. He pushes his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and hunches his shoulders. "I'll keep you company," he says, as if that explains why he'd stand around in the cold without even the flimsy excuse of damaging his lungs.

Robb gives his brother a crooked grin and hands him the cigarette. "Hold this for a moment," he says.

Jon raises an eyebrow but takes it anyway. "Trying to corrupt me again, Stark?" he says with a small smile.

"That depends on whether you are or not susceptible to corruption," Robb replies. He shrugs out of his coat, struggling a bit in the narrow space, and wraps it around both himself and Jon. It's a large coat and Jon has always been thinner than him, so it works. "Better?"

Jon catches the edge of the coat to stop it from falling off his shoulders. "Yeah, better," Jon says. He huddles closer to Robb and takes a drag on the cigarette before handing it back. "Though I still don't approve of you smoking."

"I know," Robb says, soft. When he takes the cigarette, their fingers brush together.

They stand side by side for a while, staring into the night.