King in the North // cupcakegethin asked: it’s not glee, but

cupcakegethin asked: it’s not glee, but - theon x robb, “frozen.”

First prompt! The rest are on their way! I hope I do the GoT Theon x Robb fandom proud. It’s outside of my usual wheelhouse.

He never really got cuddling. The Greyjoys… the Iron Islands, they weren’t very big on affection. They liked blood.

The first time he really craved it, craved warmth, he had no explanation for what was coursing through him. He had just seen his first whore. She was sweet and wild and she stared directly into his eyes and when it was all over, he reached for her. His fingers just grazed her as she rolled from the bed and asked for her sum, exiting quickly.

He got drunk for the first time that night. Really really drunk and Robb ended up carrying him back to his quarters. Carried him like a brother. Like something precious.

When Robb settled him on his bed he almost reached for him, too. But even in his drunken state he couldn’t forget. He’s a ward. Just a ward. Not a Stark. Not anything. He dropped his hand.

Robb hesitates at the door before he leaves. Theon falls asleep with the taste of metal in his mouth.

All of this leads Theon to question his lucidity now that he’s curled into the body of his brother. His very bare brother. Ned sent them up North. Well… further North and he’s never been so cold. The saliva is freezing in his mouth and Robb pulls him into some sort of rock formation to escape the wind.

“We’re no use to the watch if we’re dead. The sun will be up in a few hours.” He reasons.

They start a fire with trembling hands but it’s not enough. They know what they have to do. They are no strangers to the cold. Body heat will raise their temperature the most. They strip down and collide feverishly, waiting for the warmth to come.

As the feeling returns to his fingers and toes he feels Robb’s arms pull him closer and his stomach tightens. He buries his head in Robb’s neck, grazing his nose across his pulse point, and he thinks he gets it now. The cuddling thing.

Robb trails his fingertips up and down his spine and when Theon shivers it has nothing to do with the cold.

“Hey Robb, you’re stark naked,” he laughs at his own cleverness, and honestly he needs to joke to distract himself from Robb’s rigid body pressed up against his own.

“So are you,” and Robb’s words are a lot heavier than Theon’s joking tone. They sink into his bones. Stark. I’m a Stark. It’s all he’s ever wanted.

There’s a smile in Robb’s eyes and Theon moves closer, putting his mouth to his ear.

“Now and always?” he asks.

“Now and always.”