So I was cleaning my shower in a bikini (because I wasn't about to get any of my clothes wet and filthy), and my parents thought this was hilariously practical. I had this idea about Brienne doing the same thing, and it would not leave me alone. Thus this story was born.
Brief Disclaimer: I am currently on Season 5 of Game of Thrones, and I have read the first chapter of the first book, so forgive me if my characterisation is somewhat lacking, it's something I hope will improve, if I write more GoT fics.

"I'm going to clean the bathroom today," Brienne announced at breakfast. Jaime barely glanced upwards from his plate of fried grease.

"More power to you, wench." He replied, shovelling some more food into his mouth. Brienne's lips pursed.

"And I expect you will return the favour next time it reaches the state of filth it has." Jaime rolled his eyes; Brienne did love to remind him that they shared this apartment and thus he should do his fair share of work maintaining it. He agreed, but did wish she would stop harping on about it.

"Yes, yes, I will." He waved her away.

"Do you promise?" She pushed, fixing her eyes on him.

Here we go, Jaime thought, I had avoided this for a reason. Reluctantly, he met her gaze, and was immediately sucked into the beauteous blue of her eyes. He felt himself melt a little, and cursed himself for it. One look at her big, innocent eyes was enough to render him as pliant as chewed toffee, and Jaime knew that Brienne could ask him to charge into battle stark naked and he would do it, so long as she kept those eyes on his.

"Yes, wench, I promise." He snarked, making it clear how childish he thought her. She didn't seem to care, satisfied that she had his word, and sat back to enjoy her cereal with banana.

Jaime had finally left for work, and Brienne was summoning up the courage to tackle the bathroom. Armed with bicarbonate of soda, strong bleach, rubber gloves and a Spotify playlist, she settled her shoulders and marched into the filthy room.

I'm so bored, thought Jaime, as he swung around in his office chair. He had arrived at the bank, suited up and ready to perform any filial duty his father saw fit to thrust upon him, and was given nothing. So he sulked in his office, playing with various objects to try to entertain himself.

Alas, in vain, he thought wryly, as he kicked the leg of the desk for maximum spinning speed.

He wasn't about to go looking for work to do, his inbox was empty and Tyrion was off sick, so they couldn't entertain each other.

What a day this is turning out to be.

One cup sodium bicarbonate, one cup bleach, lemon-scented. Brienne mixed the concotion into the necessary paste, donned the marigolds, and hit play.

Immediately soft jazz filled the room, bouncing in a curious echo off the tiles. Before she even thought about the mould growing in the crevices between the tiles, Brienne removed all of the necessary parts of the drain. Deliberately breathing through her mouth, she slowly pulled the grate from the floor of the shower and almost gagged as a tail of hair followed it.

Oh, Gods above, this is revolting, she thought, and let out a noise of disgust, wrinkling her nose. She was going to kill Jaime when he came home. Was it really so hard to brush his hair more often, so that he didn't shed enough hair to clone him down the drain?

Taking the apparatus over to the sink and thanking the Gods for rubber gloves, Brienne carefully washed away the grime with the strongest bleach she could find, and after a final rinse, it was ready to go back down the drain.

She applied the sodium bicarbonate and bleach mixture to the cracks in between the tiles, and left the paste there to work it's magic, and turned to deal with the sink. Water marks were speckled over the taps and old, and dried toothpaste made little white spots all over the mirror.

Brienne sighed.

Jaime stood up abruptly, feeling cramped. He paced from wall to wall of his office, a lion caged in and irritated, more so now that an hour had passed and he still had achieved nothing.

He crossed the room back to his desk, and grabbed the phone. He dialled and held the receiver to his ear.

"Dear brother, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Tyrion! How are you?"

"Shae says I'm not at the Doors of Death, but I am. Everything I own will go to you in my will, Jaime. Continue in my legacy, remember who you are." Jaime rolled his eyes.

"Don't be so dramatic, Tyrion."

"I have been stripped of entertainment recently, let me have my fun." Came the chuckling reply, followed by a hacking cough. Instictually, Jaime held the phone away from his ear, despite knowing that Tyrion's germs could not possibly reach him.

"Do you know if you'll be better soon?"

"I have no clarivoyant abilities, so no. Is there a reason why?" Tyrion's voice was thick with sarcasm as well as phlegm.

"I'm bored out of my mind, and Father's not given me anything to do today. I had hoped you would be feeling better and could come in, so that we can both shirk duty."

"As much as I'd love to shirk duties with you, dear brother, I will most likely infect everyone in the building, including you, and you will then pass it on to others, such as your lovely roommate." Jaime thought that if he were ten years younger, he'd blush at the insinuation.

"Speaking of Brienne, how is she? You've gone suspiciously silent about her. Have you...?"

"No," said Jaime hurriedly, hating how his heart skipped at the prospect, "Nothing's happened."

"Jaime, you've never been reticent when it comes to romance. What is it about Brienne that has turned you into a shrinking violet?"

"Her innocence. Tyrion, she's been so unlucky in love, boys made bets on her maidenhood and her last crush turned out to be gayer than Sonny and Cher singing a duet on a rainbow. She would run for the hills if I made an advance on her." Jaime felt the truth in his words as he spoke them, and felt a little more dejected.

"Jaime, no one said you had to do anything physical. Just do something sweet for her, pick up her favourite takeout or buy her some flowers. Show her slowly that you want to give things a go."

"I could clean the apartment," said Jaime excitedly, as an idea blossomed. He could clean on his day off while she was at work, and surprise her with a sparkling flat when she came home. That would kill two birds with one stone; earn her approval, and show that he was serious about their living arrangement. He hadn't done enough, as he was well aware.

"If you think that will work, go for it," there was a pause, "You know, we make a fine pair, you and I."

"How so?"

"I'm sick, and you're lovesick." Laughter floated up from the receiver as Jaime rolled his eyes. Tyrion thought he was so witty.

"Very funny, Tyrion, but I'm afraid I'm not quite in love with Brienne." A snort came from the other end, followed by what sounded like Tyrion blowing his nose. Jaime wrinkled his own nose in disgust.

"Let me know how it goes, lover-boy." A click, and Jaime put the phone down, shaking his head at his brother. He began checking his calender, searching for his next day off.

The bath wasn't too bad, considering. Brienne and Jaime rarely had baths, they were a treat she sometimes allowed herself when she felt she needed the relaxation.

Jaime was what caused her stress levels to elevate, with his disregard for personal space, casual attitude in walking around the apartment topless and quick banter. He was a better roommate than others, but he also made her slightly uncomfortable.

She had been having a lot of baths recently.

The wistful jazz number sounded in the background, worsening the feelings. Brienne marched over and switched songs. Classical music filled the room, and she went back over to the sink to rinse the foam off of the mirror. As water dripped into the bowl of the sink, Brienne saw her reflection; straw for hair, crooked nose, thick lips that looked like a badly-healed scar. In her old bikini, her shoulders were too wide, her breasts too small, her body corded with unfeminine muscle. She was no blushing beauty, there was no aesthetic reason for Jaime to possibly justify his teasing flirting.

Jaime made her feel feminine and masculine at the same time. It sounded odd, but it was true; he treated her as simply a friend, but she caught him looking at her when he thought she was unaware. He flirted shamelessly, but stopped when her blush threatened to cover her whole body.

Maybe she'd have a bath tonight.

Oh, fuck this to Seven Hells, thought Jaime, finally. He grabbed his satchel and slammed the office door behind him. Forget his duties, forget Tywin, forget pacing around that suffocating room for an entire day with absolutely nothing to do.

He was going home.


Jaime shut the door behind him, and hung his coat and satchel on the hooks in the hallway. He didn't hear a reply. Removing his shoes (Brienne told him to nearly every day: "It saves the carpet and time hoovering."), he sauntered into the kitchen, expecting to see his roommate at the table with a cup of tea and a paperback. She and Tyrion read as much as each other.

"Brienne?" He called louder, and heard lilting piano music come drifting from the direction of the bathroom. Of course, she was probably still cleaning. Jaime made his way over.

"You should turn that down, wench, you clearly didn't hear me-"

The sight that greeted him was at once wondrous and completely unexpected. Brienne was in a navy and white striped bikini, tied in neat knots at the back of her neck and under her shoulder blades, exposing galaxies of freckles on miles of skin. Her bottoms were the same design, with ties on both sides. Jaime briefly imagined pulling the strings at either side and seeing what was underneath. He let out a choked noise, unable to rip his eyes away from her body.

Brienne turned at the sound, and Jaime clutched the towel rack as her muscled stomach came into view. He admired the dip of her clavicle, her small breasts, her strong thighs atop miles and miles of amazing legs...

"What are you doing, Lannister?!" Brienne screeched, her rubber-gloved hands flying to cover herself, to preserve a kernel of modesty. Jaime threw his hands up in surrender.

"I'm sorry, work was slow so I came home early. Apparently at just the right time. Why are you wearing a bikini to clean the bathroom?" Not that I'm complaining, please wear that more often.

Brienne blushed furiously, her arms still tight around herself, "It's practical; if I get wet, I don't ruin any clothes." Jaime almost laughed, this was so Brienne. Practical to a fault.

"That's... that's remarkably practical, wench. It flatters you too." Brienne blushed redder, if that was even possible, and her face turned to stone.

"Don't mock me, Jaime."

"I'm not, I'm being honest!"

"No, you're not, you're teasing me because you can, and then you can turn back and comfort yourself that it's just Brienne the Beauty, she's used to it."

"Brienne, I promise I don't think that." At her disbelieving look, Jaime swallowed and continued, "You may not be a model, but you make me feel like a better man, and that's far better in my opinion. You helped me change, Brienne." At his little speech, her hands slowly lowered to her sides. He had shocked her into coming out of hiding.

Jaime stepped closer, loving how her height meant she could look him in the eyes easily.

"Besides, your body... you have nothing to worry about, Brienne, trust me." He smiled charmingly, and she blushed again.

"You're not too bad yourself, Lannister." She mumbled, and Jaime grinned. So she had noticed.

"Thank you, I think," he chuckled, as an idea struck him. Impulsively, he loosened his tie and began to unbutton his shirt. At her look of surprise, he grinned again.

"W-what are you doing?" She stuttered, eyes on the skin being slowly revealed.

"Levelling the playing field." He replied easily. He shucked his shirt, and began to unbuckle his belt, feeling triumphant as Brienne's eyes travelled lower and she licked her lips subtly. Once his trousers were off, he stepped forward, backing her against the cold tiles, and pressing their bodies together. Jaime heard Brienne gasp quietly, and had to contain a groan of delight himself.

"Jaime," she whispered in warning, looking so unsure. Jaime held her jaw softly, and leaned in.

"Yes, wench?" He said just as quietly.

"You'd better not be doing this just because I'm in a bikini." Jaime almost laughed.

"Wench, I've been wanting this since you threw my dirty laundry at me and told me to wash it myself." Their lips almost touched, and Brienne's breathing began to deepen as her lips parted.



Their mouths met softly at first, but as they grew in confidence, they began to kiss ferociously, his hands gripping her waist and hers (rubber gloves still on) around his neck. The cold wet latex shook Jaime out of his delicious fog with a shiver, and he broke the kiss to pull at the fingers of the gloves. At this, Brienne laughed, and he chuckled with her as the gloves hit the floor.

They were both smiling as their lips met again.

It is purged! Hopefully you enjoyed it, review with your thoughts!