Chapter Text
The club was crowded, and no one noticed the boy hitting her, but Sandor saw. The boy shoved her and she stumbled into the corner of a table, not crying out but her eyes widening in pain. The blond boy advanced on her, his hand raised, and Sandor drowned his drink, dropping it onto the floor next to him. It took two strides to reach the boy, the glass grinding under his boot. The drink was his third and maybe he wasn’t behaving rationally, but he couldn’t stop himself. He grabbed the kid by the collar and punched him in the face. Sandor hadn’t meant to hit him hard; he’d just meant to teach him a lesson but something crunched and Sandor let go of him, seeing the kid’s blood on his knuckles. He turned to the girl. She was looking at the fallen boy, and when she saw Sandor she backed away, frightened. Sandor looked at his feet. Often he used his scars to scare people, but for once he didn’t want her to be afraid of him.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, then he looked her in the eye. “Are you okay?” She nodded, eyes wide. “I won’t hurt you.” Sandor stepped closer and this time she didn’t move, instead straightening and looking up at him. She nodded again and glanced at the boy.
“Don’t worry about him. Follow me.” He meant to say the last as a command but his voice tipped up and it sounded more like a question. He took her hand and led her out of the smoky room and out into the night air. They stood there for a few minutes and the girl collected herself, wiping at the wetness under her eyes. Finally her hands dropped to her sides.
“I’m Sansa.” Sandor tensed at the sound of her voice, clear and not shaky. It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.
“Sandor,” he scratched out. He paused, leaning against the rough brick behind him. In the streetlights she could see a bruise already blooming on her cheek, or had it been there before? She shivered at a puff of wind. Sansa. “Was he your ride, Sansa?” Her name felt beautiful on his tongue.
“Yes.” Sandor closed his eyes briefly and opened them to see her hesitating, standing on one foot, teetering slightly. Her red hair fluttered in the breeze.
“Do you live far?”
She shook her head. “A few blocks.” Sandor pushed off the wall and stood, shoving his hands into his pockets. He felt shy as a schoolboy; it was an unfamiliar feeling.
“I can’t drive right now, but I’ll walk you home.” She looked up at him, both feet on the ground, and her mouth curled up in a smile. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her and he cast his eyes down for a moment. “Which way?” She pointed, and they set off.
After a few yards, Sandor shed his jacket and handed it to her. “Your teeth were chattering. It’s irritating.” She only looked up and smiled, walking a few inches closer to him. “I just said you were irritating. How can you smile at that?” he growled, looking curiously down at her. Sansa spoke again, voice like a flute, and he almost stumbled at the sound.
“You said my shivering was irritating, not me.” She paused. “And you didn’t mean it, either.”
They walked again in silence, the girl looking shyly up at him every once in a while. She played with her hair, running her fingers in it, and Sandor wanted nothing more than to move her hands so he could run his fingers through it. He clenched a fist at his side, looking straight ahead. He felt like he should say something; he never minded silence, but this new sense of shyness unnerved him. Instead of opening his mouth and saying something stupid, he remained quiet, watching her from the corner of his eye.
Finally Sansa slowed, coming to a stop where the sidewalk met a driveway, and she turned to face Sandor. She was standing a little bit closer than was proper, but he didn’t care. He looked down at her, watching her bite her lip. Suddenly Sansa stepped forward and hugged him, arms around his middle, and Sandor nearly fell over. He embraced her awkwardly, one hand at the middle of her back and one at her shoulderblades, fingers threaded through her hair.
Just as quickly she stepped away, just out of reach in the moonlight. “Thank you, Sandor,” she whispered. He stood there, frozen on the sidewalk, unable to breathe.
He walked away in a daze, and by the time he remembered his jacket, she was gone, her fiery hair the last thing he saw in the night.