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Stannis is the sort of man who always looks composed. Even when he’s exhausted and his suit is wrinkled, he can simply lift his chin and carry it off by simple virtue of carrying himself in a way that says he doesn’t care that he looks like hell and cares even less that people can see him looking like hell.
There’s a quiet dignity to it that Davos has always found admirable.
He takes one look at Stannis in his garish black and neon yellow shirt, which he inexplicably tucked into his jeans, and borrowed red and blue bowling shoes and thinks that even Stannis can only summon so much dignity.
“You aren’t going to throw any of those at anyone, are you?” he asks as Stannis examines the rack of bowling balls.
Stannis looks miserable- he hasn’t stopped scowling since he woke up this morning and cursed Robert all the way through breakfast. Usually Davos would be miserable along with him, but it’s difficult to be unhappy when he’s actually having a good time. There are things he’d rather be doing, especially at 5pm on a Friday, but he likes bowling and it’s good to see the coworkers he likes but doesn’t usually get to see.
Stannis, meanwhile, would obviously rather be running, hiking or absolutely anything that doesn’t require company. He’s glaring up the steps at his older brother hard enough he’s going to have a two-day headache after this.
Davos uncaps Stannis’ water bottle and holds it out to him.
After a moment, Stannis accepts it and looks away from the man responsible for the new policy of company-wide bowling nights.
Davos watches Stannis drink, frown easing as he does, and lets himself smile. Everyone thinks Stannis is grouchy because he’s that type of person, which isn’t wrong, but get a little water and some protein into him and he perks right up.
Admittedly, he’s still a far cry from friendly, so “perking up” only goes so far, but it’s a relief that Stannis isn’t perpetually on the precise of a heart attack or murder.
It would be a new low for the company if the VP assassinated his brother, the president, in front of all their employees.
Glancing one lane over, Davos spots Loras stroking Renly’s arm, the youngest Baratheon glaring at the oldest with an expression he must have picked up from Stannis.
Loras notices Davos looking and rolls his eyes.
Davos rolls his own in return.
Baratheons.
“I know how to conduct myself in a bowling alley, Davos,” Stannis says curtly as he hands the water bottle back. He slips his fingers into his chosen weapon with a thoughtful expression and hefts the ball to his chest and contemplates the pins set up for practice before the first round of the competition.
He does it with his usual economy of movement, and Davos has a moment of fear that this- the bowling alley, the smell of hot dogs and warm EZ Cheez, Stannis in an ungodly shirt- might become a thing for him.
Then he hears Margery Tyrell ask if it’s possible to bowl with a stick up your ask- a question Stannis must hear as well because he swings harder than necessary.
He gets a strike, which isn’t surprising since he swung hard enough he probably would have taken all the pins out through a shockwave from the ball colliding with the far wall, but he looks like he’s the one who got hit as he marches past Davos, up the stairs to the carpeted area for a moment, then returns to Davos, armed with a chair and a mulish expression.
Davos resists the urge to pat one of Stannis’ crossed arms. He enjoys the challenges of navigating the shifting lines of Stannis’ prickliness, but discretion is the better part of valor for a reason. Davos doesn’t actually want to sleep alone for the next month.
“If it’s any consolation,” he says, keeping his hands to himself, “I believe Olenna Tyrell just needled Joffrey into drinking some of that godawful homebrew Oberyn Martell makes. No one’s getting out of this unscathed.”
Stannis squints at him. “I don’t delight in my kin’s suffering or the debasement of the company.”
“True, but you don’t really mind suffering when it’s happening to that jumped up little monster,” Davos points out. A cheer goes up by the entrance, and Davos looks over just in time to see the head of marketing stroll in. “Oh, I didn’t think Oberyn would actually come. I hope your brother didn’t insist on bringing that Clegane he’s so fond of.”
Stannis gives him a look that conveys exactly what he thinks of the odds of Robert leaving the Mountain behind when he could stir the pot instead. “And you think I’ll be the one throwing bowling balls,” he grumbles, startling a laugh out of Davos.
Stannis doesn’t have much of a sense of humor, but that only makes his bleak melodrama more enjoyable.
Jon Snow arrives in time to save Davos from the sharp reply Stannis is visibly gearing up for. Not far behind Jon come his shy friend from accounting, the boy’s wife, and their child, a delightful little thing Davos will probably wind up looking after for a while tonight.
Pulling up the rear, to Davos’ amusement and horror, comes Tormund Giantsbane.
“Why?” Stannis asks.
“The merger, I’d think,” Davos says, just as Tormund says, “Somebody’s got to shake up you corporate types,”
Jon winces as Tormund grins sharply at Stannis. “I heard Brienne of Tarth came after you in a meeting for not supporting your little brother’s project.”
“And I heard she turned you down for the prettier Lannister brother.”
Tormund lets out a bark of a laugh so loud, Davos half expects Robert to be summoned by it.
“You said this one doesn’t have a sense of humor,” Tormund says, twisting to give Jon a reproachful look.
Jon flushes. “That’s not what I said!”
“Yeah, you just said he probably won’t laugh at Tormund’s jokes because he doesn’t laugh at anything,” the friend- Samwell, Davos recalls- adds, probably thinking he’s helping.
He definitely isn’t, but Stannis likes Jon. His good opinion will survive a bit of well-intentioned gossip.
Reaching into the duffel bag with their first aid supplies, Davos opens the cooler he stashed in it.
The sound of him popping the top makes Tormund look around sharply. “Which of you got alcohol past security?”
Davos doesn’t point out that opening any can would have made that sound. He simply pulls out a second can and holds it out.
Tormund, in a display worthy of a frat house, bites into the side of the can and does something resembling shotgunning but sideways and with more noise.
A lot more.
Stannis grimaces. “We haven’t even finished the practice frames, and we’re already here.”
Jon, Davos notes with some amusement, looks embarrassed but doesn’t even try to tell Tormund off.
Davos was in the room with Stannis during the marathon discussions that were the merger discussions between Robert’s company and Tormund’s, and he can’t say he blames the boy for saving his energy. The Wildling Company’s reputation for being run by rowdy outdoorsmen is well-deserved, and as the head, Tormund has made it his business to build that up.
Next to Davos, Stannis has a look on his face that says he wishes he could reconsider his stance on throwing things.
“Brienne!” Renly shouts, waving a hand at the woman who just stepped down the stairs. He calls her name again, audibly pleased to see her. She spots him quickly and trots over, smiling at him softly.
He pulls her into a hug and draws her immediately into a conversation about her boyfriend and whether Renly has him to praise for her new, finer work wardrobe.
Everyone around looks between Renly and Stannis, and Davos can feel them wondering how the two of them could have possibly come from the same parents.
They aren’t taking Robert and his influence into account, of course, which is a mistake almost too large to be possible.
Renly is charming, though, warm and friendly and handsome in an approachable way he doesn’t share with either other brother. Stannis is handsome but in a distant way, like an old marble statue, and his personality is just as unforgiving as his face suggests. Even Davos has days he doesn’t want to be near Stannis and his unending demands.
Davos makes it his business to take the temperature of the employees, and in all the time he’s done it, he can’t recall anyone complaining about Stannis for anything more serious than not being very fun.
Yet they do trust him.
When they need something taken care of quickly and correctly, they turn to Stannis every time. If accounting finds errors, they go to Stannis first. Members of HR consult with him over Renly, despite Renly being head of the department, because Renly’s charm, if it works, is only temporary, and if it’s serious, he isn’t built to step in and rip the problem out at the root.
Had Renly had been in charge of handling the Bolton situation, he wouldn’t have had it in him to tear the department apart and rebuild it from the ground up. It was dirty work, and Renly has a soft heart.
People like that about him. Stannis would never admit it, but he likes Renly for his soft heart as well. He doesn’t only keep Renly out of the hard parts of personnel because he’s too easy on people.
Stannis knows all of this. He knows the crowd sees him as a cold, unfeeling machine. He knows they’re happier the less they see of him. He knows they don’t realize he’s the only one they trust to look after them.
He does nothing to counter their misconceptions of him because doing so would only serve his own ego. It wouldn’t make him a better supervisor.
So he says nothing.
The whispering hurts Davos more than it hurts Stannis. To hear them complain about Stannis and describing him to new employees as if he’s the boogeyman when all he wants is to do his job well…
Loras, Jon, and Tormund join Renly in enthusiastically greeting Brienne. Samwell and Gilly- Davos doing very well with names today, perhaps Stannis was right about taking B12- join in more calmly.
Brienne is something of a quandary for Davos. She’s made of similar stuff to Stannis: devoted to her causes, determined to do her duty at the detriment of her own quality of life, someone regarded as having integrity. On their own, she and Davos get along well. She calls him Shorthand in companionship; neither of them is as they should be, according to any number of articles on websites Davos doesn’t visit. He’s missing some of himself, and she’s got too much of herself. He’s suggested she find a way to give his fingers some of her height, but she laughed him off and said she wouldn’t be able to witness her boyfriend balding from above if she did.
Yet remind her that Davos works for Stannis, and he’s reminded of a defining difference between her and Stannis.
Robert aside, Stannis doesn’t carry grudges. He remembers people’s behavior, but it’s only information to him, no different from the quality of their work.
Brienne carries her grudges like armor, and she’s slow to drop even a piece.
To Stannis, her loyalty to Renly during his attempt to unseat Stannis is water under the bridge; she was his second, and she did her duty in supporting him then and does it now in her work in outreach. That’s all he cares about.
To Brienne, Stannis’ willingness to use some of Renly’s poor decisions to undercut his fledgling coup was cruel.
That Stannis was simply doing what every other company would have done if Renly had taken over but in the privacy of Stannis’ office instead of in public doesn’t matter to her.
The little group moves away, going off to find some of the Starks if Davos had to guess.
The rubberneckers disperse.
Stannis, unsurprisingly, doesn’t relax.
This time, Davos does touch Stannis’ arm, and when Stannis only clenches his jaw as he glares at the far wall, Davos lets his hand drop to Stannis’ lap and threads their fingers together.
He doesn’t expect Stannis to allow Davos to comfort him for long, and sure enough, Stannis untangles their fingers and reclaims his hand after no more than a minute or two.
His expression is softer, though, and he skims his fingertips across the back of Davos’ knuckles as he gets up and heads off to do whatever it is he’s deciding Robert is neglecting.
Davos watches him go and distracts himself from the disappointment of Stannis’ departure with the sight of Stannis in this rare night of jeans instead of trousers.
They’re more fitted than Davos had thought Stannis would tolerate, but he isn’t complaining.
Her other ideas were terrible and earned her a rightful pink slip, but Melisandre did get something right when she pushed for Stannis to stop using his paychecks on stocks and start visiting a tailor.
Davos’ favorite outfit on Stannis is still one of Davos’ old shirts that Stannis took ages ago. He looks comfortable in it when they’re sitting together at home, almost peaceful.
Davos isn’t about to complain about the sight of Stannis in jeans that don’t look like he just picked them up off someone’s floor, though, and it isn’t only Davos watching Stannis leave. Stannis’ tailor does great work, and while it might not mean anything to Stannis, Davos likes that other people look at Stannis and appreciate some aspect of him.
More employees arrive steadily, the alley filling up with people and noise, and soon, Davos and his duffel bag have relocated to the bench behind the score machine.
He’s waiting for Stannis- and the rest of their team- to return when someone drops onto the bench beside him.
“You’re looking awfully lonely,” Jaime Lannisters says in lieu of a polite greeting. “Where’s your other half? I’d say better, but I’m on an honesty kick.”
Davos shakes his head. Jaime is one of a handful of people whose poking at Stannis doesn’t bother Davos.
For one, he doesn’t share his girlfriend’s dislike of Stannis- he’s Tywin Lannister’s son, and if anyone can recognize the difference between a man whose standards are set unattainably high and a man who just wants things done correctly and is too unskilled with people to express it.
For another, Davos suspects Jaime’s comments are therapeutic.
No one likes Stannis. No one likes Jaime.
Davos likes Stannis. Brienne likes Jaime.
Stannis sees the world in terms of duty, as does Brienne.
Davos sees it in terms of better and worse, and for him, Stannis is decidedly better, even when he’s being difficult. Brienne has a similar view of Jaime.
Unlike Davos, Jaime can’t accept truths when they’re simple. He picks at Stannis and Davos because he’s looking for a loose thread he can find in his own relationship.
He’s been doing it for nearly two years now, ever since he started mooning over Brienne, and he’s still struggling to find something.
Davos and Stannis mainly butt beads over Stannis being too harsh, which Jaime can’t mimic with Brienne because Brienne is the one who has a soft heart, just like Renly.
“I’m not sure where Stannis is,” Davos replies. “Not in your girlfriend’s line of sight, I assume.”
“Fiancée,” Jaime corrects, lifting his hand to show a slender band on his ring finger. At Davos’ raised eyebrows, he shrugs. “She’s got one as well. And it’s not as if I have any reason not to want everyone to know I’ve been taken off the market- I’ve been caught by quite a fisherwoman.”
He grins at Davos, and for once, it looks genuine.
“Congratulations are in order, then,” Davos tells him, and he, too, is being genuine. Then, because he’s sitting next to Jaime Lannister and Stannis isn’t here to roll his eyes, he asks, “Did you have to fight her to be allowed to make your proposal?”
Jaime snorts. “No, but I suspect that’s only because she knows I’d fight dirty. She still hasn’t forgiven me for throwing all her shirts out the window while she was in the shower so she couldn’t run off without finishing our argument.”
He smiles a different, softer sort of smile, and Davos shakes his head.
“Come to think of it,” Jaime drawls, “how did you and our infamous VP get engaged? He strikes me as the down on one knee type, but he’s also so stiff I’m not sure he can bend that much.”
A common misconception. “You do realize he was married once before, right?”
“Well, yes, but there are traditions you can fall back on when you propose to women.”
“I’m not sure why you think you have a monopoly on traditions,” Davos replies lightly. “And Stannis is quite flexible, actually. He really just needs a little-”
“Please don’t finish that thought,” Jaime interrupts, holding up both hands in surrender. “I’ve already lost a hand. I refuse to be subjected to more trauma.”
Davos shrugs and takes a swallow from his beer to hide his smile.
“Well?” Jaime prompts.
“‘Well’ what?”
“How did you two get engaged?”
Over Jamie’s shoulder, Davos spots Stannis coming back, his eyes narrowed, and a terrible idea occurs to Davos.
“Tell you what,” he tells Jaime. “If Brienne’s team beats Stannis’, I’ll tell you with as much detail as you want.”
Jaime’s mouth curls into a smirk. “I hope you've got a lot of free time scheduled into your calendar, Davos, because Brienne is going to crush you, and I have a lot of questions.”
Davos temporarily forgets about the bet when the pins are set up for the first frame and Stannis is bending as he bowls what Davos is told is a strike.
He should put aside some extra money to get Stannis’ tailor something worth the reward of Davos actually getting to see Stannis’ long legs working as he takes his run up and bends low.
Stannis doesn’t look especially pleased, but when he catches Davos’ eye, his expression shifts into one of his crooked smiles.
Davos thinks idly about the alley’s supply closet and how long it’s been since he and Stannis had time for more than a quick kiss.
“We aren’t having sex in the car,” Stannis says when he takes his spot next to Davos. “You pinched a nerve last time, and I’m not getting arrested because you have no self-control.”
“I was thinking about that supply closet in the corner and the very stealable key at the desk, actually,” Davos corrects mildly. “There won’t be much room, but if we’re strategic about it…”
Stannis gives him a flat look, and Davos takes a cheerful pull on his beer.
Across from them, Jaime is whispering fervently at Brienne, who’s giving him a look like she can’t understand him but is willing to go along with him because she doesn’t have any reason not to.
She bowls a tidy strike herself, and Davos doesn’t have to look over at Jaime to know he’s grinning.
“Why is he making that face?” Stannis asks, leaning slightly into Davos but keeping his eye on Jaime.
“I suppose he’s excited about the prospect of getting to hear all about our engagement.”
Stannis stops leaning into Davos.
“Davos.”
“Oh, right. You still don’t want people to realize you’re cute,” Davos says. “Guess you better bowl hard.”
“I won’t forget this,” Stannis warns as Jon picks up his ball. He doesn’t quite manage to pull away from Davos, though, so Davos doesn’t feel especially worried.
A loud crack from the lane draws Davos’ attention to Jon, who’s standing right at the foul line, still balanced as if he were mid-throw. Just beyond him and before the ball weakly rolling toward the pins, there’s a dent in the floor.
It isn’t difficult to put one and one together and make “Jon doesn’t know how to bowl and broke the first rule of bowling”.
Stannis doesn’t have to say anything. Everyone is already looking at Jon with surprise and pity.
Tormund is the first to recover.
“They’re gonna have a hard time buffing that out!” he chortles and throws an arm around John, leading him over to Davos. “A drink for my clumsy friend,” he stage whispers.
Jon looks so miserable, Davos doesn’t put up even a token arguement. He hands over a can.
“The last time I bowled, my children insisted I use one of those ramps,” he tells Jon, jerking his thumb at the metal contraption maybe six lanes down that Arya Stark has climbed onto as a makeshift chair.
Jon ducks his head. “Thanks, Davos, but I really don’t think-”
“He nearly decapitated our daughter,” Stannis interjects. “Shireen has no idea how close it was.”
“You were distracting me! And she was fine. Like you said, she doesn’t even know about it.”
Brienne’s voice cuts over them. “Don’t you dare!”
Davos looks up sharply, just in time to watch Bronn, equipped with a flask full of something Davos doesn’t want to think about, set a ball on the lane and nudge it with his foot.
It rolls unsteadily toward the pins as he returns to his seat.
“Bowling’s all in the wrist,” he tells Brienne’s intern. “Only an idiot would give away how much he uses his wrist in a place like this.”
He says it a second before Jorah Mormont sends a ball flying down his lane, powering through and knocking down every one of his pins.
Jon turns wide eyes on Stannis.
“Getting divorced changes a man’s priorities,” Davos tells him solemnly.
Tormund lets out a howl of a laugh, and Davos resigns himself to a night alone in bed, with Stannis exiling himself to the couch.
“One pin,” Jaime says, squinting up at the scoreboard. “We lost by one pin.”
Davos pats his shoulder consolingly. “Life is like that sometimes.”
Brienne is glaring at Jaime.
Stannis is glaring at Davos.
Nearly everyone else has wandered off.
“Rematch,” Jaime demands indignantly. “Right here, right now.”
“Absolutely not,” Stannis and Brienne chorus.
Brienne pulls a face like she’s unexpectedly stepped in a puddle in her socked feet.
Jon and Tormund look between them- Jon with trepidation, Tormund with open glee.
Getting the merger to go through wasn’t the bad part, Davos realized. Living with it is what’s going to see Stannis crack his molars.
Stannis turns away and walks over to Davos. “You haven’t eaten anything since this afternoon,” he says as he holds his hand out to Davos. As if he’d let Davos eat anything here without making that hunted face like he thinks Davos is trying to die first. “And you’ve been drinking.”
Only two, maybe three cans. Nothing Davos can’t handle.
He accepts Stannis’ hand up anyway.
“Next time, Shorthand!” Jaime shouts.
He’s slurring a bit, Davos notes cheerfully.
He flaps a hand at the room in general and lets himself lean too heavily on Stannis as he’s led away.
They’ve almost reached the door when their luck runs out.
“Leaving so soon?” Robert bellows. “The night’s still young, Stannis! Although, you aren’t as young and vital as you were anymore, are you?”
Davos considers pointing out that Robert is older than Stannis but decides against it.
“I suppose you’re right,” Stannis demures.
A muscle twitches in his jaw.
“Can’t fuck in the back of the car if we’re not in it,” Davos adds. “You’d think eight years of marriage would have made him less impatient, but I can’t say I mind.”
Robert narrows his eyes.
Stannis squeezes Davos’ side sharply. “I’ll see you on Monday, Robert,” he says. Without waiting for Robert to reply- Davos’ husband is a very smart man- Stannis half-drags Davos out the doors, across the parking lot, and into the front seat of Stannis’ very functional, reasonably-priced sedan.
“You’re angry with me,” Davos observes once Stannis has climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the key.
Stannis doesn’t deny it. “You know I dislike you doing that.”
“I do.” Davos tries to find the words to explain himself as Stannis puts the car in gear.
Davos watches him shift the stick, Stannis’ hand lingering on it because Stannis’ car is a standard and Stannis dislikes having his hand off the controls. He was a terror the first time he had to drive them somewhere and Davos hadn’t learned that navigating with Stannis means giving two sets of directions at once- the one needs next and the one after it.
It took him two months to relax enough to let Davos guide him, but he’d done it in the end because he trusts Davos.
“You’re the one I married,” Davos tells the windshield. “I realize you’ve got to play second fiddle to Robert and you’ve accepted that, but, gods, Stannis. I don’t like seeing you shoulder more from him than you need to.”
Stannis absorbs that without speaking.
Davos doesn’t rush him. He rests his head on the travel pillow Stannis got him last year for his birthday and lets himself drift a bit, his head cushioned against the unavoidable bumps in the road.
When Stannis finally breaks the silence, his voice is soft.
“I don’t need you to be my knight in shining armor, Davos. I’ve handled Robert for years. There’s nothing he can say to me that he hasn’t already.”
“I never said you do,” Davos replies. “But someone ought to remind people you aren’t on your own. Since my name is on the deed to our house, I think that honor falls to me.”
Stannis snorts. “‘Honor’, Davos?”
“I had to earn the right to be allowed to care about you, didn’t I? Not everyone has. So yes, darling, it’s an honor.”
Stannis goes quiet again, and Davos glances at the space between his hand and Stannis’.
This isn’t a fight, but it could become one. Sometimes that’s what it takes to get through to Stannis- arguing seems to help him think clearer, and when his head’s gotten deep up his own ass, which does happen, Davos has to push him into defending his shitty ideas until Stannis sees them for what they are.
After the fight, when they’re back in their bed, is quite nice as well. Stannis can be sweet when he’s allowed to do it on his own terms- terms Davos has grown fond of. An arm around his waist, Stannis’ hand clutching Davos’ shirt, and Stannis’ sleep-rough voice telling him not to get up yet because Stannis is going to fetch them breakfast- to be eaten at the table, not in bed, because gods forbid Stannis feel a crumb- is a good way to wake up.
They don’t need to fight over this, however much Davos might like the idea of Stannis snuggling up with him and staying like that instead of going for his morning jog. Stannis isn’t actively contemplating a bad decision this time.
He’s just a middle child who needs a little more care than people realize.
Reaching over, Davos lays his hand over Stannis’.
“You always call me ‘darling’ when you think I’m being unreasonable,” Stannis says after a few minutes pass.
“You noticed that, did you?”
“It’s not as if you’re being subtle.”
Davos shrugs, accepting that as the truth. He rubs his thumb over the jut of Stannis’ wrist bone as he thinks. “It really did take me a long time to get you to figure out I was bending over backwards for you because I wanted you for myself, you know. The number of times you told the office I was a model employee for going the extra mile when I was actually trying to impress you…” He chuckles to himself as he thinks back to the number of times he’d wanted to bang his head on the nearest wall because Stannis just wasn’t getting the message.
He’d worried, for a while, that their coworkers would resent him for it, but they’d seemed relieved that Davos was drawing most of Stannis’ attention.
“I didn’t have to work to get you to propose to me, though, I suppose,” he adds, thinking of his bet with Jaime and knowing Stannis will be touchy about Davos talking to Lannisters for a while. “You did that all on your own. Keeping a copy of the first project I put together for you… How long had it been? Three years?” He squeezes Stannis’ hand. “You can hide behind your business degrees all you like. Shireen didn’t grow up so sentimental without help.”
Stannis sets his jaw, and Davos has to resist the urge to touch his cheek.
Davos doesn’t tell him that if they’d lost, he has a fully fleshed out lie he would have spun. Stannis probably already knows Davos has a backup plan, and if he doesn’t, he will eventually.
He’s seen the photo Shireen took of them in the kitchen, holding the framed first page of the project. Stannis is staring directly at the camera as Davos kisses his cheek, a stern look on his face that Davos knows means Stannis is fighting to keep his expression still.
What you can’t see is Stannis’ free hand clutching the back of Davos’ shirt because hadn’t managed to let go of him since Davos said yes and yanked him onto the couch.
A copy of the photo is on Davos’ desk, and Stannis always seems to find a moment to look at it.
He’s stern and pushes himself too hard, but he’s the best husband Davos can think of.
“I take your point,” Stannis admits.
“Glad to hear it.”
Davos could leave the conversation like this, with Stannis fluffed up but willing to be soothed.
Or he could keep talking.
“Would be terrible if I told you I quite like you in this yellow monstrosity?”
“Yes.”
Davos sighs dramatically. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“Not here.”
“That’s a shame. I was thinking we’d take advantage of Shireen staying with Selyse tonight, maybe actually spend a little time together like we were talking about before, but if you’re that set against it…”
Davos begins to count backward in his head.
Five… four… three… two…
“I have to wear this again next month,” Stannis sighs. “I’d like to keep at least a week between wearing this for you and wearing it for company bowling.”
“You think I won’t be content with a one-off for the novelty of it?” Davos asks. “Sometimes a man just wants to try something new.”
“I think I’m still missing half of my shirts.”
“It wasn’t half, and most of them were ugly.” Davos pauses, considering. “And I distinctly remember you telling me you like it when I get pushy. But if you really want to wear them, I’ll sew the buttons back on.”
“Davos.”
“Yes, love?”
“I’ll wear the shirt.”
“Oh I don’t actually want you to wear it.” Stannis looks away from the road to glare at Davos. “It’s terrible, Stannis. I just wanted to know if you’d divorce me if I did wind up liking it.”
Eyes returning to the road, Stannis makes a noncommittal hum. “I’ve known you for a long time, haven’t I, Davos?”
“A very long time,” Davos agrees.
“So you won’t be hurt when I tell you you’re lying.”
“Not hurt at all. And you won’t be offended when I say you’re full of shit.”
“There’s only one way to know for certain, isn’t there?” Stannis asks. He’s already scanned the road for potential hazards and is moving into the fast lane.
As the papers say, Stannis is a master tactician.
“Unfortunately, it’s nearly eleven o’clock,” Davos points out, “and we do need to get up tomorrow to collect Shireen.”
Under Davos’ palm, Stannis’ hand closes tighter around the gear shift.
“Perhaps your brother doesn’t only have bad ideas?”
“We are not having sex in the car.”
“Easy for you to say,” Davos grumbles. “You aren’t the one who had to deal with his husband running around all day while wearing the ugliest shirt and still looking better than anyone else.” Anticipating an argument, he adds, “Yes, there are beautiful thirty-somethings at the company, but again, you’re the man I married. My husband is always going to look better to me than anyone else, and that’s a subjective fact, so don’t argue with me.”
He crosses his arms and waits.
Stannis squints at the road and takes a turn that doesn’t go to their house.
“Stannis? What are you-”
“There’s a hotel twenty minutes closer than home, and because I’m not going to fuck you in the car when our daughter will be in it tomorrow, this is the best I can do.”
Never has Davos known a man who sounds so miserable about getting something he wants.
“Is it a nice hotel?”
“Very nice.”
“Are you going to be unhappy about fucking in their nice sheets?”
“I keep a spare set of sheets in the car, along with extras clothes for both of us. If you get one bag, I’ll get the other.”
Davos should probably ask about that, but the sign for the hotel comes into view, and Davos is more concerned about whether whether Stannis will insist on taking the stairs.
He doesn’t, it turns out.