#And Brienne was doing the smart thing and trying to retain body heat by getting bundled up quickly.

[averbaldumpingground]

Roadside Assistance 5/?

@albatrossisland Part 5. For anyone who cares: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 and Part 4.

Of course it was fucking Brienne Tarth, because that was just the shit icing on the shit cake that had been his entire shit week. Jaime squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for what he already knew would be a fucking disaster of an evening. He couldn't remember the last time they'd even managed a vaguely civil conversation. Great. Wonderful. Terrific.

It couldn't have been anyone else, could it? Like maybe that unhinged Bolton kid that would probably wind up in prison some day, probably soon? Or one of those burly Wildling perverts? He cursed to himself as he killed the engine and struggled back into his coat.

It couldn't have possibly been anyone else. Not when he was wearing Pia's stupid, ridiculous hat that gave him unmanageable hat hair. And his ugliest Winterfest tie to piss off Tully, as was becoming his holiday tradition. And it was not like this could have happened when he'd at least shaved, or gotten a full night's sleep in something resembling recent memory. Or remembered to put on some fucking aftershave or even a wrinkle-free shirt. Jaime slammed the door closed, biting on his glove and shoving his car keys into his back pocket.

As he tried to stomp closer, his irritation at the universe somewhat impeded by the now knee-high snow on the shoulder, he could see Brienne in the driver's seat, huddled under a pile of blankets, the outermost of which had a faded, but unfortunately recognizable, Direwolves logo. Great. She didn't look hurt at least. Just cold and maybe a little panicked. Which was... less than ideal. But she was probably okay, he tried to tell himself, just barely keeping his footing on the snowed over ice as he made his way closer. The Starks hadn't called to report her as missing yet, and the windows were only just starting to fog up, so it couldn't have been that long. Maybe an hour, at most. Not great, but not life-threatening. He leaned over to tap on the glass, briefly hesitating.

There probably wasn't anything he could do for her car at this point, he figured, other than calling it in. But his truck had snow chains. And they weren't that far from his apartment, he didn't think. Maybe an hour though, in this kind of snow. His comfortable, warm apartment, where the good coffee lived. He wondered how Brienne liked her coffee, mentally kicking himself for the thought.

Jaime leaned closer, silently willing her to be okay and to maybe roll down the window.

She startled, but thankfully did just that. Her hair was just as moonlight pale as he remembered. She blinked, looking at him, hopeful for only a moment until the recognition set in. And... there it was. Jaime sucked in air through his teeth. Of course. Of fucking course.

Because women like Brienne fucking Tarth, with her stupid, unattainable blue eyes, and her stupid, judgy, perfect mouth, and her awful perpetual scowl of disdain, reserved, as it so happened, especially for him, obviously had no use for greying, old cripples who looked like fucking lumberjack zombies in light up holiday attire. Clearly. Fuck.

Edit: Part 6.