Work Text:
You called me last night on the telephone
And I was glad to hear from you 'cause I was all alone
You said, "It's snowing, it's snowing! God, I hate this weather."
Now I walk through blizzards just to get us back together
When Robb called and said he had news, Jon expected to hear that Robb had gotten the promotion he was after, or maybe Rickon had heard back on his college applications. There was always something going on with the Starks, and even though Jon didn’t get to see them as often as he used to, he liked being kept in the loop. But the news Robb actually brought him, about Sansa’s engagement, Jon hadn’t expected that. Not that it was completely out of the blue, Sansa had been dating Harry for, what, two years now? An engagement only made sense, it was the next natural step in the relationship. Still, whenever Jon pictured Sansa’s wedding day, he saw himself… He stopped that train of thought before it could pull out of the station. He’d lost the right to think like that years ago. Sansa made her choice and it wasn’t him. All he could do now was be happy for her.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Robb asked after Jon told him just that.
“Yeah. Really, that’s great news. Sansa’s gotta be thrilled.”
“She is.”
“You don’t sound all that excited though. What’s up? Don’t like this Harry fellow?”
“It’s not that. Harry’s fine and all, but he’s not—” Robb rolled his eyes. “You’re going to hate me for saying this, but I always thought you and Sansa would end up together.”
Jon knew better than to say it out loud, but he agreed. His breakup with Sansa had been amicable, they were just at different stages in their lives and had different priorities. It’s not like they fell out of love or ended with some big fight that left both sides broken-hearted and angry. No, they just needed some time apart, time to grow as individuals. Jon always thought that once they figured themselves out, he and Sansa would find each other again, especially since they never really left each others’ lives, her still being his best friend’s sister after all, and the Starks were practically family in their own right. But then she started bring Harry around, and any idiot looking at them could see it was quickly becoming something serious, and what do you know? Now they’re engaged and Sansa will forever be the one that got away.
“I know that’s probably the last thing you want to hear right now, considering..."
“No, it’s fine. I wish things had worked out different too, but, I really mean it. If Sansa’s happy, then I’m happy for her.”
That conversation had taken place eight months ago and now the day was finally here. The day when Sansa Stark would pledge her unending love and fidelity to Harrold Hardyng. Jon hadn’t been invited to the wedding, but he wasn’t offended by the decision. Besides being the bride’s ex, it’s not like he and Sansa were exactly close anymore. They’d tried to stay friends as long as they could, but Jon’s job moved him hours away and Sansa was building her new life with Harry and it was all too easy to fall out of touch.
Most days, Jon didn’t even think of Sansa anymore. On occasion, sure, if he saw something that reminded him of her; a street vendor selling her favorite flowers, a well-stocked library, energetic little shiba inu pups like Sansa’s Lady. But she wasn’t constantly on his mind the way she had been before, when they were together. He moved on. At least, he had, until Robb informed him of Sansa’s impending nuptials. Since then, Jon found his thoughts drifting back to her frequently, more and more every day. And now that the wedding was only hours away, he could think of little else.
Jon caught a glimpse of the clock on the wall and groaned. 1:46 AM. He really needed to get to sleep. He was due in to work in five hours. He volunteered for the Saturday morning shift, hoping that throwing himself into his work would keep his mind occupied. Anything to keep him from staying home wallowing in thoughts of ‘what might have been’.
He’d just about made up his mind to get off the couch and go to bed when his phone rang, loud and obnoxious, deliberately hard to ignore. Jon accepted the call and put the phone to his ear. “Hello?”
At first, it seemed like a pocket dial, he could hear only muffled sounds, an occasional voice, but he couldn’t make out any words. He was about to give up on the call when he heard the sound of a soft breath, hiccupping softly, and then a voice. The same voice that had been running through his mind all day, the very last voice he expected to hear, today of all days.
“…It’s snowing. It’s not supposed to snow. The meterlologist— meteor- the weather lady said clear skies,” Sansa slurred. She was drunk, Jon could practically smell the alcohol through the phone, could see her stumbling across the room, heels in hand. And of course, she’d have to be, wouldn’t she, to be calling him mere hours before her wedding? “Snow on your wedding day, that’s, like, a thing, right? A bad omen or whatever?”
A mistake, it had to be a mistake. Jon was probably in her contacts right beside Jeyne, she must’ve meant to call her best friend, and in her drunken state hit Jon’s name by accident. It was Jeyne that should be on the phone, listening to Sansa’s last minute jitters, not him. He should hang up, just press the button, end the call, she’s not calling you, Jon, let it go…
But then she said something that made him pause, something that didn’t make any sense for Sansa to say to Jeyne. “Except if it was you. Then it would have to be snowing. Get it? Because snow, like, y’know, Jon Snow.”
She didn’t just say my name. There’s no way. I’m dreaming. He’d been thinking about her all day and now his sleep deprived brain was conjuring up fantasies, exactly what he wanted to hear—
“—It should be you,” Sansa sighed. “I wish it were you.”
There were a hundred thousand things Jon wanted to say, first and foremost being yes, yes, it should be me! I love you, please, Sansa, I’ve wanted to marry you since I was seventeen! But he couldn’t find the words, his tongue felt useless and heavy in his mouth. By the time he managed to croak out her name, it was too little, too late. The line had gone dead before he managed to eke out those two sweet syllables. Jon tried again, “Sansa!” louder this time, as if that could reconnect the call, but it remained dead air.
Jon let his phone drop onto the coffee table as he began pacing around his living room. What did this mean? Sansa said— but did she mean it? The wedding was only nine hours away now, it could just be cold feet, last minute doubts before making one of the biggest commitments of her life. But… what if it wasn’t just nerves? Sansa was an honest person by day, and when she was drunk, she couldn’t lie to save her life. And if she was telling the truth, that she wanted him, then what? What was he supposed to do about that? If any of you has reasons why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace. Could he do that, could he crash her wedding? Ruin her chance at a future with Harry for the mere possibility that she wanted him instead?
Jon didn’t think he could, didn’t think he should, but somehow his keys were in his hand and he was crossing the snow-covered lot to his car, already mapping out his route back home in his mind. He could make it in eight hours, he knew from experience, seven if he pushed the speed limit. Seven hours... Jon cast a glance upwards and watched the snow falling in fat, white flakes and he couldn’t stop the thought;
You’re wrong, Sansa. Snow is a good omen.
It’s snowing. When she said that, Jon had pictured a delicate dusting of snow, not the blizzard of the century. According to the weather reports, at least half the country was under three feet of snow and it was still coming down. Visibility on the roads was less than a quarter mile, he could hardly see the brake lights of the car ahead of him. Twice he hit a patch of black ice and nearly slid off the road, barely avoiding the fate of the dozens of other vehicles he’d passed half-buried in the snowbanks. The cars that managed to remain on the road were moving at a crawl, he was approaching his eighth hour behind the wheel and still had miles to go. Jon glanced at the clock and prayed for a miracle. The wedding was starting in less than an hour. Please, don’t let all this be in vain.
Jon kept pushing it for another half an hour before he needed to stop to refill his tank. His thermos of coffee was getting low too, as it does when you drive across the country in the wee hours of the morning. Jon had just paid for his things and was about to get back on the road when Robb called.
“Hey, Jon, how’s it going?” Robb greeted in a falsely chipper voice. He was trying to play this off like it was an ordinary chat, but Jon knew something was up. After all, the wedding was set to begin in thirty minutes. Not really the best time to just catch up.
“Uh, nothing much. What’s up? Shouldn’t you be at the- the wedding?” God, even the word was hard to say. Jon had hoped to be there by now, to talk to Sansa, but with less than half an hour left, there was no way he’d make it in time. At least he can say he tried.
“Yeah, I’m there now, actually. But that’s— Have you heard from Sansa, by the way?”
“W-why would you think—?” Oh, god, did Robb know? How?
He heard Robb sigh over the line. “It’s just… she’s not here yet. She was supposed to arrive at the church an hour ago to get ready, and she hasn’t shown up.”
“What’s that got to do with me?”
“She said something at the rehearsal dinner last night. I dunno, it seemed like maybe you were on her mind? And now nobody can find her. Arya checked Mom and Dad’s house and she’s not at the church and I don’t think she’s with Harry…”
“O-oh. Er, she did, she called me last night,” Jon confessed carefully. “But, it was just a drunk dial. She said something about snow being bad luck, I don’t know, I couldn’t make out anything more.” Jon didn’t think it was right to tell Robb about the other bit, not yet. Not until he saw Sansa himself. If she wasn’t at the church yet, then he still had time. If he could find her first. And he thought he might know where she could be…
“Right… Sorry to bother you. I know today’s not easy for you. Try not to dwell on it, yeah? You’ll find somebody.”
“Thanks, Robb.” The line went dead and Jon slipped his phone back in his pocket. Sansa hasn’t shown up to her own wedding. That could only mean that whatever Sansa was feeling last night, she was still feeling now. The only real question left was; were her feelings about Harry or himself? Jon had come too far to turn back now, he had to find out.
It took him another hour to get where he was going, but every mile was easier than the last. The snow, while still falling steadily, had relented enough to see, and the roads had been freshly plowed and salted. Even as he got off the main streets and onto the back country roads, the pavement was clear. Jon tried not to get too ahead of himself, but he wouldn’t have come all this way if there wasn’t any hope at all. And everything moving forward felt like hope.
Jon kept driving, hoping he could still find the spot after all these years. Three miles past the Stark’s house, there was a path through the woods that lead to a clearing. It was a special place for him and Sansa, the only place where they could find any privacy from her house full of nosy siblings. They spent many summer afternoons hidden away together, laying out on her gingham picnic blanket, talking for hours or kissing or making love. Jon hadn’t been back since their break up, it wasn’t his place, it was theirs together, but if she meant what she said last night, then he knew that is where she would be.
He pulled off the road when he saw the lightning struck tree that marked the start of the trail. It was freezing cold when he got out of the car and the snow came up to his calves as he made his way into the woods, but a little snow wouldn’t deter him from his goal, a hurricane couldn’t stop him now.
He was rewarded when the trees parted before him and she was there, sitting on an old tree stump, red hair burning against the snowy white backdrop. As he approached, his heart started to pound, fast and loud. He wondered if it was possible that it could physically break out of his chest. This is it, this is either the end of them or a new beginning.
“I was half expecting to find you in your wedding dress,” Jon called out.
At the sound of his voice, Sansa whipped around to face him and Jon’s thundering heart about stopped. If he ever thought he could get over her, he was a damn fool. Sansa was it, she was endgame, The One, there was no one else for him but her.
“Jon-?” Sansa reached out for him like she couldn’t believe he was real. When her hand touched his cheek, she let out a gasp. “You’re really here? Why— why are you here!”
“You called me last night. I had to find out if you meant what you said.”
“I- I had a couple of glasses of wine, I don't even remember doing that.”
“Yes, you do.” Jon put his arms around her waist and she immediately fell into his embrace. She fit perfectly, like she was made to occupy that space. “It’s why you're here, isn't it, when you should be walking down the aisle right now?”
“Jon, I really don’t remember—”
“Yes, you do, Sansa. Just tell me the truth. Is that how you really feel?”
“Fine! Fine,” Sansa conceded. “I meant it, all of it. I can’t marry Harry because I'm still in love with you. Breaking up with you may be the stupidest decision I’ve ever made, and you know that’s no short list. I don’t know how I’ve gotten by without you in my life. I don’t know how I’m supposed to go on without you.” Sansa balled his jacket up in her fists, buried her face against his chest, and clung to him like she never meant to let him go.
And Jon never meant to let her go either. Now that she said it, it was undeniably real. She still loved him. And god knew he still loved her. All this time, wasted, and for what? Not one damn good reason. He wouldn’t waste another second. “You don’t have to. Sansa, I’m yours. I’ve been yours for half my life. Just said the word and—”
“Yes! Yes, Jon.” And then her lips were on his. Jon tangled his hand in her hair and kissed her back with everything he had, let himself get lost in the feel of her, both familiar and exciting all at once, the woman he loved.
It wasn’t a church, there was no priest, no exchange of vows, but it was there in those woods that they made their promises to each other, unspoken, but no less sacred for it.