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Sansa stared at the two men on the couch as they mirrored one another. Completely tuned into the television in front of them, paying no mind to anything else – except each other. She had no idea how they could be so in sync when they were so engrossed in… well whatever it was they were watching. She’d started to tune it out as soon as they started shouting at the television and throwing popcorn around.
She was sitting with her mother, enjoying her company as they talked about daily life and just enjoyed one another – and a glass of well deserved wine. Work had been rough of late, and it was nice venting to someone who had the slightest clue on what she had to deal with. She doubted Sandor had spent any time around children that actually involved his detailed focus and attention.
Being a teacher was rewarding of course, but not always. She hated to admit it, but on some days… and with some kids - she just wanted to scream, yell, and throw things. Real ladies, and wonderful teachers never lost their cool though, so Sansa could never show the irritation she felt on the inside.
Sansa rolled her eyes as she glanced back over towards the living room where two grown ass men wore almost matching plaid shirts and grumbled, barked, and protested over the same things as they watched something that seemed terribly gruesome and barbaric to her.
“It’s scary how in tune they can be.” Sansa finally muttered, causing her mother to laugh.
“Oh I’m waiting for the day when they leave us for one another.” She joked back and Sansa began to giggle, bringing up a hand to cup her mouth when she thought the giggle would turn into some awful howling laugh that would draw their angry glances for ‘ruining the mood’ – like she and her mother had done just thirty minutes earlier.
“Mom!” Sansa shook her head and bit her lip. “I never thought they’d get along this well…”
“Neither did I, to be completely honest with you.” They watched the two men jump to their feet to yell at the television set for yet another time that night. “I thought for sure he’d freak out and wouldn’t give him a chance.”
“It’s a bit creepy… but I’m just glad they get along.” Sansa shrugged her shoulders and took another sip of her wine, before swirling it around in her wine glass and watching it.
“I think your Uncle Benjen’s a little jealous of Sandor to be honest.” Catelyn joked and Sansa rolled her eyes.
“More like relieved, him and Dad – while they get along, they don’t have much in common do they?” Sansa took another sip before lowering the glass to the table. “… Why do I have the feeling I’m just marrying a slightly younger version of Dad with a nastier temper and a few more scars?”
“Because you are.” Catelyn smirked at her daughter. “Sandor’s a bit rougher, but you’ve got to admit – with hair and eyes like that he does fit in with the Starks.” Sansa scrunched her nose and turned to watch them again. “They’re even matching tonight…” Sansa’s eyes narrowed in on the plaid shirts again, they were both the same color. The same red. While the patterns were a little different, it was still too much for her.
“They look like lumberjacks.” Sansa protested, listening to her mother snort into her wine while she watched them. “Gay lumberjacks… we need to dispose of them – the shirts I mean.”
“… I’ve got to agree… the matching thing is a bit disturbing, but tackling down their favorite shirts?” Catelyn raised an eyebrow as she looked over at her husband and her future son in law.
“I think I’ll go with bleach accident… you could use Shaggydog? Have him get a hold of it and rip it up?” Sansa offered and watched her mother think about it for a moment.
“We’d have to space them out so it seemed like an accident.” Catelyn thought aloud and Sansa smirked wickedly.
“Yes. Dad will have a better shot at replacing his… So I think I should go first with the bleach.” Catelyn nodded before lifting her wine glass to lightly tap Sansa’s, saluting their plan.
“Wait until Sandor and Dad stop complaining about Sandor’s shirt for a few weeks or we’re done in.” Sansa whispered as she noticed Arya coming into the kitchen.
“What are you two up to?” Arya raised her eyebrow while Sansa and Catelyn glanced down at her shirt with very similar, mortified expressions.
“Why are you wearing plaid?” Sansa gasped out at her little sister who looked down at the red plaid shirt she was wearing as a jacket over a black spaghetti strap tank-top.
“… It’s Gendry’s, what’s so wrong with plaid?” Arya blinked at the two women who began to try to stifle their laughter as soon as it tried to escape their lips. “What?” Sansa silently pointed to the couch, just in time for Arya to catch the two men high fiving each other over something completely stupid. “… Are Dad and Sandor wearing matching shirts? That’s fucking weird.”
“Yes. And you are too.” Sansa motioned towards her sister whose mouth fell open before she shrugged the shirt off her shoulders and tossed it on the floor.
“Gendry’s going to fit right in, isn’t he?” Catelyn teased her youngest daughter, watching the expression on her face turn into a deep scowl.
“I’m gonna go burn this.” Arya grumbled, and picked up the shirt, but not before stealing her mother’s wine glass for a few seconds to finish it off. “We will never speak of this. Ever. They’re bad enough when it’s just the two of them. Get rid of those damn shirts, and never let Gendry know about this. They don’t need to become the three musketeers or whatever.” Arya stormed off leaving Sansa and Catelyn trying to suppress their laughter yet again.
Sansa and Catelyn glanced back over at Sandor and Eddard, the men both reaching into the popcorn bowl at the same time as they both took a sip of the beer in their hands. Sansa shook her head, Who knew the game the played trying to out intimidate each other would lead to such an interesting friendship?