~ Save the Dragons, ride a Targaryen ~

His jaw was clenched; he looked at the person across from you—a study buddy of yours. You had introduced him a month ago as you walked into your shared flat with the tool in tow. It had been for a paper you got paired up for.

Daeron had nearly growled as he saw that stupid, smug grin on the guy's face as you disappeared into the room with him that first time. “Just a study buddy.” You had smiled and waved off Daeron's concern about the guy. You were too trusting for your own good.

He remembered his father often telling him as a teenager to keep his door open when he had a girl over. At the time, he found that rule stupid; oftentimes, nothing beyond the waist happened. But now he was older and a bit more knowledgeable and understood the concept of an open door. Not that he didn’t trust you; he did. He didn’t trust the guy with you.

Was it possessive of him to think like that? He just wanted you to be safe in your own house.

And now, he sat there, watching the guy trying to get into your pants while you, sweet, oblivious you, sat opposite the scumbag and laughed.

Was he jealous? Maybe. He didn’t want to admit he had some feelings for you.

He swore when you moved in together that you were off limits. Your friendship meant more to him than that silly, growing crush he had harboured for you ever since you called him up for that extra room in the flat. Well, love wasn't as predictable as he had hoped.

He took large sips from his pint. The bitter brew he liked so much tasted even more bitter than ever.

Suddenly, he got a text. Immediately fishing his phone out, he looked down, seeing a text from you.

‘Save me, Obi-Wan. You are my only hope.’

It had been a running joke between you two. He had dressed up as the Jedi Master for a Halloween party last year. He had even gone so far as to grow a beard for the part, and he looked so much like Obi-Wan Kenobi. And of course to remember it and show his children one day, you took many pictures to never let him live it down that he looked like his favourite Star Wars character ordered on Wish.

But now, the memory dulled in the face of your text. This was no joke. You wouldn't write things like that just for shits and giggles. Now it was a secret SOS. 

He left his half-drunk beer on the table and hurried over to yours.

Only now could he see your posture. Rigid and stiff. You had never sat that straight since he'd known you.

“You called, Princess,” he rasped, holding out his hand to you. Daeron saw the relief in your eyes.

Quickly, your hand shot up to his offered hand, grabbing it tightly, glad to escape this horrible date and leave immediately. Your tight-lipped smile turned into a relaxed one.

You put your share of the money on the sticky pub table and said goodbye – ever the nice person, always trying not to make people uncomfortable or angry. 

As you left the pub together, Daeron turned over his shoulder and threw the guy the same smug smile your date had thrown his way during your dinner. He wasn't as nice as you. He openly admits he is a petty bitch. But it ran in the family. 

As you walked, he placed his hand softly on the small of your back. For your comfort, of course!  “You okay there, princess?” he mumbled as he held you close. You nodded softly, leaning closer.

“Yeah, you came just in time.” He chuckled. “That’s what roommates are for.” He kissed your forehead softly. You hummed, your smile softly faltering. But Daeron didn't notice. He was too busy getting you home safely. 

“You don't get it!” Kira rolled her eyes at you. She stirred her pink latte impatiently. “I don't get you all chickening out whenever you see him. For R'hllor’s sake, you are roommates!”

Valarr sat there, staring into his coffee and wishing his girlfriend hadn't pulled him along with her.

You sat opposite them, your head in your hands and your elbows on the table. “I thought he would get jealous if I went out with the guy. I even endured alpha male talk!”

“You know Daeron isn't confrontational,” Valarr piped up, trying to defend his older cousin. “He never actually was. He hates conflict.”

You shot him a glare. “I know. I live with him. He hides in the bathroom when I can't find my snacks because he accidentally ate them while he had the munchies.” You growled, holding your own beverage a little tight—maybe too tight.

Kira sighed. “Well, just talk to him!” Her pink nails tapped against the table. You looked at her as if she had kicked a puppy. She just shrugged. “Chicken. Both of you. You are living together already. You have inside jokes, for God’s sake!”

“But I don't want to lose him!” you whined. 

Valarr rolled his eyes this time. “You both are perfect for each other,” he muttered under his breath, taking a sip of his coffee. He was fed up with you and his cousin dancing around your feelings. Suddenly, he felt eyes on him. He looked up, seeing both his girlfriend and you looking at him with death stares. Did his shirt always feel so tight? He adjusted his collar. 

“Spill!” Kira growled, stopping just short of pinching his side. Valarr grew hotter, his ears turning red. He began to squirm in his seat. He saw you lean closer to him, ready to pounce over the table like a predator. He swallowed thickly. 

“He made me promise not to say a word. He is my cousin after all!” He cringed, scooting farther down in his chair. 

“Valarr…” his girlfriend growled. 

Valarr grew even hotter, his face the colour of a tomato now. “Gosh, yes! He has the biggest crush on you, but he had sworn never to act on his feelings because you are roommates!” Valarr blurted out.

Kira petted his head, muttering “Good boy,” while you threw your hands up in frustration.

Suddenly you got up. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to speak to my roommate!” you growled, your chair scraping against the floor before you stormed out of the café.

“Get your man, girl!” Kira hollered after you as you left the café. Valarr nearly sank under the table as people around them turned their heads.

Daeron was in his room sitting over a textbook. He sighed. He had read the paragraph multiple times, the words already jumbling together. Maybe he should just give up and become a full-time bartender. His life choices had already brought him the disappointment of his father. He couldn’t sink further in his father’s eyes than he already had.

His door burst open without a warning; you stood in the doorway, with windswept hair and a wild look in your eyes. “You are an idiot!” 

Daeron nodded in agreement. “Thank you for stating the obvious,” he muttered matter-of-factly. 

He watched you move into his personal space with a speed he didn’t anticipate at this moment. His legs spread on instinct as you stood between them. His head fell back on the headrest of his gaming chair to meet your eyes. You looked slightly stressed.

“I am an idiot, too,” you muttered, much calmer, your bottom lip jutting out. Daeron made a noise at the back of his throat. “No,” he mumbled. “You are far from being an idiot.” He sighed softly. He gently took your hand, pulling you to sit on one of his thighs. “What's wrong? Why are you running around calling people idiots?”

You bit into your lower lip softly. Daeron grew more worried. Your eyes swept to the floor, trying to evade his soft gaze. “Darling? Haven’t your parents taught you not to look away from a person when they are talking to you?” He gently hooked his finger beneath your chin and turned your head toward him. Your eyes met; he smiled encouragingly at you. “What's wrong?” 

A small sigh escaped your lips. “Do you have feelings for me?” Daeron swallowed thickly. He didn’t expect this kind of question. Was he going to tell the truth or the lie he had been telling himself since you two moved in together? 

Now it was he who looked down, his hand falling to his side, away from your face. “I—ah…” he let out a breathy chuckle. His ears grew slightly red.

You gnawed at your lips now. “Because I do,” you muttered shyly. “For a very, very long time. And I didn't know how to tell you.”

Daeron's brain short-circuited. He stared at you with wide eyes. He must have misheard you. “It just sounded like you had said you had feelings for me.” He chuckled, not really believing you.

With a roll of your eyes, you leaned closer, grabbing his head and pulling him closer. He had to crane his neck; his beautiful amethyst eyes widened as your lips slowly grew closer.

His breath stuck in his throat as their noses touched, his hands growing sweaty.

Meanwhile, you seemed calm, but on the inside you were screaming Bloody Mary. Sirens were going off in your head as you slowly leaned in, your soft lips laying on his slightly chapped ones.

Both of you stood still for a moment. No one dared to move until Daeron moved his hands to your lower back, gently pulling you closer—so close you had to straddle him. 

Your lips moved shyly across his, moving experimentally until both of you grew bolder. It was Daeron who teasingly swiped his tongue against your lower lip, tasting the vanilla lip balm on them and waiting to be granted entrance to your mouth. When you opened it slightly, one hand of his moved up your back to tangle in your hair. The kiss deepened, growing into a full-blown make-out session in an instant.

You didn't know how long your lips were locked together, only that your lungs burned for air. 

With a small gasp, you looked down at him. His eyes had gotten darker—he looked slightly feral.

Your hands had wandered too, one in his hair, the other beneath his shirt. But your hands weren't the only ones that explored. While one hand had stayed on the lower half of your body, the other was grabbing onto one of your buttocks. 

“Did you open my bra?” you panted, just now feeling your chest less supported. A self-satisfied grin appeared on his lips. “Sorry, habit,” he giggled, not one bit ashamed of his quite impressive sleight-of-hand trick.

You remained like this for a little while. You were straddling him on his desk chair, your hands in his hair and on his abs, which you didn't know existed. 

His hands remained on your neck and ass. His thumb softly caressed the soft hair on the nape of your neck. 

He felt like he was staring up at a statue of the Maiden. 

The light slightly caught in your hair, making it appear like you had a halo.

“Daeron, what are we going to do now?” The man in question leaned back gently. “I'm going to take you on an epic date. Not one in a seedy campus pub. I'm going to show you I also own button-ups and nice pants.” You giggled, making his grin wider and more lopsided. “And I'm going to treat you like the goddess that you are, even if my dad calls me and asks me if I have either lost my mind or have fallen for a scam. Because trust me, no money in the world will ever suffice to pamper you. I think I have to drain the world of its money for it to finally suffice, but I will try. I want to spoil you, and I will. And I will not let you go, because you are special. The most amazing person in my life.”

You melted back into his arms, your head leaning back down – your foreheads touching. “I don't need all of that money.”

He chuckled softly. “I just want to make up for the lost time and all the times I called you ‘just my roommate,’” he mumbled, catching your lips in another sweet kiss. “Already paid your debt,” you mumbled between kisses.

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