fic: project westeros: you stitch or you die (Game of Thrones/Project Runway, Jon Snow)
Title: Project Westeros: You stitch or you die
Characters: Ensemble
Rating: PG
Summary: In which Jon Snow only makes clothing in the color scheme of black and Jaime trolls the entire competition.
Author's Note: ~1000 words. I don't even know, you all. Seriously blame Tumblr for this. I'm just going to leave this here. Essentially based off of Season Two of Project Runway, which if you think about it everyone matches up to someone that season.
The stitches are all wrong on the sleeve, and he grips the small scissors tightly in frustration. Then, sighs and loosens his hand so as not to cause any further problems. It’s just not coming together how he wants.
There’s a squeak of shoes, and Jon looks up to see a camera man hovering over him. The camera is pointed at him, they want him to say something. It’s not the best position they’ve ever caught him in so far: nearly vertical on the floor, pins in his mouth, and scissors held in claw like fingers. Nervous breakdown for one here.
The guy asks him about how he thinks everyone will do tomorrow on runway day.
He shrugs, remembers to remove the clothing pins from his mouth. “I, uhh, I’m good. Jorah’s doing his dance thing. And Sansa has a lot of ruffles going on. Jaime’s got buttons,” he adds lamely. And then scowls. It isn’t fair the man is the sister of the host.
The camera man leaves. He never knows what to say when they do the personal diaries. He could whine but they never seem to like that.
He goes back to his dress.
-
That night he barely manages to escape from being cornered in the bathroom by Asha. The woman has seriously been after him since day one. He thinks it’s because she derives some sick pleasure from torturing him in front of everyone else. Ygritte, and her red hair that always ends up all over the house, laughs and tells him he knows nothing if he can’t even turn the tables back on her. He purses his lips, but keeps quiet, and satisfies himself with the fact that Ygritte can’t sew.
Jon goes to bed exhausted and wakes in the morning with circles under his eyes.
His scowl returns at the sight of his golden haired roommate who bears no sign of stress at all.
-
The stitches are better, thankfully since there’s only four hours remaining. And he still has to fit his model and get her hair and makeup done. He’s fixing the hem how he likes while staring at the wall of accessories too. He could go with the silver shoes, but really he likes his black theme no matter what Cersei or Renly say. They just don’t understand. Black is his thing.
A burst of laughter comes from across the room, and he turns to see Jaime doing an impersonation of Petyr Baelish.
“Sansa,” he drawls her name out, “Watch out for Sansa, she’s our precious little lamb.”
Sansa looks up from her evening gown, a blush on her face, and throws a pin at the man. “Shut up.”
Jon watches as Jaime only laughs and starts creating a story about Sansa and Petyr going out to eat and Sansa dumping lemon cakes in his lap. Everyone around them laughs and rolls their eyes. It livens up the work room and eases the tension away.
Later, when Petyr Baelish appears to check in on them and destroy their dreams with his sly looks and voice, he makes Jaime repeat his performance. Jon watches the glow in those green eyes and the easy grin, watches the long lines of his throat work. He looks at the jacket on the mannequin and thinks that maybe the skills are there without needing to be favored because of his sister.
Petyr makes his way to Jon, staring at the black dress with raised eyebrows. “You know what they’re going to say, right?”
Jaime and Dany are doing singing impersonations of Renly now in the background.
Jon stares up at the fashion consultant. “That it’s too black?”
The man hums in agreement.
“I like black,” Jon says, and it sounds so lame.
Petyr eyes him. “It’s a nice dress. But you had better be able to explain it. You know they like more color.”
He has nothing to say and grips the shears tight.
“Well, make it work,” Petyr says and drifts away to hover around Sansa. The man was seriously weird with her.
-
The runway is terrifying as they stand there. The six who scored enough to continue have already gone. Renly seems more interested in flirting with guest judge Loras Tyrell; they really are fooling no one there. And Cersei’s hair piece is even more elaborate than last week. You’d think Jaime would tell her that what looks to be the front of a bird cage is just not attractive.
Jon looks down the line. He can count Jaime and Jorah as in the top. He could go either way in top or bottom, but he’s placing money on either Ned or Ygritte going home.
Cersei and Margaery are arguing about his design.
“If you like it so much, then you wear it,” Cersei goads.
Margaery smiles back sweetly. “I would wear it! I know you don’t like black, but it’s a well put together garment.”
Jon is terrified. He just wants to go through or have Renly or Loras weigh in.
They finally switch away to focus on the others.
To Ygritte and Ned they have nothing nice to say. Jaime gets a “your skills are remarkably well for someone with only one hand” from his sister. Jon grins at the man’s cheeky response. He likes him even more now.
They’re sent away, and the anticipation in the room is enough to make him want to throw up. The wait seems to be forever before they’re called back.
“Jon,” Cersei says, “You’re in. You can leave the runway.”
He breathes a sigh of relief and leaves. “Thank you.”
Jorah wins.
Ned is sent home, which is a surprise to none since Petyr had warned him about not making the garment like the consultant wanted.
-
Jon wakes the next morning to the grinning face of Jaime in the doorway. Blonde hair, green eyed, excited Jaime.
There’s still like ten weeks left.
Fuck.