Sansa Stark was unofficially a member of the local astronomy club, thanks to Bran. The group met every Tuesday night in a cornfield about two hours away from the Stark household in the Chicago suburbs. Sansa left early from soccer practice each Tuesday to drive Bran there. It helped her take her mind off of her recent breakup.

The club members murmured greetings to each other as they hauled unwieldy telescopes onto the field. The corn had been cleared away, leaving the ground was lumpy and uneven. The men stood like little islands, fiddling with their scopes and gazing at the sky.

Bran looked forward to it each week. He'd been itching for clear skies and a chance to use the fancy telescope their parents had gotten him for his birthday. He'd struggled with the gift out in the backyard. "You can't see anything here in the big city, Sansa."

"Bran, we're 45 minutes from Chicago. "

"How many stars can you count?" Bran's arms swept across to the sky.

Sansa squinted. "Maybe twenty?"

"There are thousands of them, Sansa." Bran's eyes were dreamy. "Thousands of them, we should be able to see them all. We just need to get somewhere where there's less light pollution."

Bran had hopped on his computer and looked up astronomy groups. He'd finally found one out in farm country. Sansa didn't mind taking Bran. Especially not after they met Jon Snow. She hadn't noticed Jon at first. He'd set his scope up at the northern edge of the field. But Bran spotted Jon's telescope right away. "Let's talk to him, Sansa, I bet he can see Saturn's rings and the moons of Jupiter."

Jon was in a red flannel shirt and a grey knit hat pulled tight over his hair. Sansa introduced herself.

"I have to admit, Bran was right, the sky's packed with stars out here."

"It's the best star-gazing in the state," Jon said.

Sansa smirked. "Because it's in the middle of nowhere."

"Yes."

Jon was tongue-tied around Sansa each week, but he warmed up to Bran right away. He showed Bran all the different lenses he had in his bag, answered Bran's eager questions about his telescope, and asked Bran what he wanted to look at. Bran was a serious, studious boy, and he had few people he could really talk to. Sansa enjoyed watching him open up to Jon. She had a suspicion it did Jon good too.

"Scope time is a precious commodity," Bran told her earnestly on the ride home. "Jon's generous with it. He let me look any where I wanted on the moon. All of the seas."

"Seas? On the moon?" Sansa glanced at her mirror and eased onto the highway.

"They're the remains of molten lava breaking through the moon's surface. The Sea of tranquility, and the sea of serenity –"

"You sound like you went to a yoga retreat, Bran." Bran just grinned and rattled off the names of more moon seas. Sansa was glad to see him excited and engaged. It had been hard on all of them since Robb died. Bran had retreated furthest into his shell. Sansa would drive him five hours each way on Tuesdays to see Bran's eyes light up again.

During their sixth visit, Jon had a special treat for Bran. "Sansa, look, Jon brought his sidereal motor!"

The hunk of gears and knobs looked impressive. "I'm not even going to pretend to feel bad about not knowing what that means."

"It corrects for the rotation of the earth." Jon could make mumbling an art form, Sansa thought.

"Corrects for it?"

Bran piped up. "We use it to keep track of where we need to point the telescope in order to adjust for the earth's rotation relative to a fixed point in the sky."

"It makes it easier to see Jupiter," Jon said, and went back to helping Bran install the motor.

Few gatherings could top a swarm of astronomers for awkwardness. Sansa had now been asked seventeen times (by the men who were able to drum up the courage to talk to her) if she wanted to see Venus, the planet of love. One older man in a cowboy hat had called her a heavenly body before shrinking under her withering stare.

Sansa fired up her iPhone to snap a photo of Bran and Jon with their heads bent together over motor. "Let's get a picture of this technological wonder."
As soon as her screen lit up, Bran and Jon both flinched in unison.

"Sansa, put it down!" Bran said.

"What are you two, vampires?" What was Bran talking about?

Jon was still blinking. "The light from your phone interferes with night vision."

Sansa tucked her phone into the picket of her jeans. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine." The corner of Jon's mouth turned up. "We are kind of like vampires."

"Should I bring garlic next time too?"

"If you want."

Sansa starting bringing dinner on Tuesdays. Jon's surprise and gratitude for Sansa's basic beef stew – she hadn't done anything special, just added peas and onions – made her wonder if he lived alone. She didn't want to think about how invested she was in the answer.

Sansa miscalculated the next week when making spaghetti with turkey meatballs. "Let's give Jon the leftovers to take home. What do you think, Bran?"
"Jon will love it. He thinks you're the best cook he's ever met." Bran closed his eyes. "…I wasn't supposed to tell you that."

Jon was stubborn that night, and Sansa had to insist. " Please, Jon, I made too much, take it home with you."

"I couldn't do that."

He doesn't want charity, Sansa thought. She put her hand on Jon's arm. "You'd be doing me a favor, there's no room in the fridge, right Bran?"

Bran caught on quickly. "Nope. It's stuffed."

The following Tuesday Jon handed her back her Tupperware solemnly. She hefted the plastic container. "What's in here?"

Jon averted his eyes. "Bran said you liked cookies."

"Chocolate chip cookies," Bran added, adjusting a dial.

Jon nodded. "Right. Those. So I made you some." The set of Jon's shoulders made Sansa think he was nervous.

"Thank you Jon."

"You're welcome."

She didn't tell him she nearly chipped a tooth when she nibbled on a cookie in the kitchen. It was sweet of him. Though she should probably teach him about baking soda.

Jon had a proposal for Sansa at the next meeting. "I thought you might want to see Saturn."

"You can count the rings," Bran said.

Jon gave Sansa a lop-sided smile. "I don't know about that. But Saturn's very close to Earth; it's the best look you'll get for years."

"Well, I can't pass up an offer like that, can I?" Sansa bent to look through the lens. Her hands were freezing. She bumped the telescope.

"Sorry, I'm sorry." Joffrey had called her clumsy. She hopped back, guilty. She'd seen how much time it took for Jon and Bran to position the telescope. Had she ruined the night?

"Don't worry about it. May I?"

"Sure."

Jon leaned down next to her. His dark hair looked soft up close, and she caught the scent of pine and juniper. "There."

They were inches away from each other. Kind, his eyes are kind, Sansa thought. A lock of his hair had come loose from his cap and she reached out gingerly to tuck it back in. Jon took a deep breath.

"Can you see it Sansa?" Bran's voice brought her back to herself. Jon stood up, and she cleared her throat. "Jon was just fixing the view for me."

She could feel Jon hovering behind her. She peered. "I see a greenish round circle?"

"Turn the second knob to the left."

The blob transformed into a crisp, clear image of a disc surrounded by rings. Sansa let out a small gasp.

"Can you see it?" Jon's voice was soft.

"Yes. The shadow, I can see the shadow Saturn's rings cast on the planet. It's beautiful. The rings are so delicate."

"I hoped you'd like it."

Jon helped Sansa and Bran load Bran's telescope into the back of the SUV as they got ready to head back to Chicago.

"Thanks for your help, Jon."

Jon flushed and looked at the ground. "So I was wondering if you wanted to-"

"Are you talking to my shoes? I'm up here, Jon."

Bran pressed his face to the passenger window. "Ask her to the movies, Jon!" Sansa hid her smile.

Jon rubbed the back of his head. "Would you like to go to the movies?"

"Fair warning – I like rom-coms."

Jon was unfazed. "Rom-coms it is."

Sansa crossed her arms. "Look me in the eye and tell me you like cheesy movies."

Jon looked her in the eye. "I like cheesy movies. They're an under-appreciated art form, I'm serious."

Sansa laughed. "My Tuesdays are tied up."

"How about Friday?"

"It's a date."