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Sansa was seething, reeling from the adrenaline of cutting through Jaime Lannister’s kicked puppy act and Cersei Baratheon’s saccharine bullshit. She hopes the orange juice stain never leaves her boss’s negligée.
She was so naive to think that after the night they spent together, where they just talked and talked until their voices were hoarse (when they kissed until their lips were sore) and the sun started to peak through the curtains - that he was just going to forget about Cersei.
Honestly, it wasn’t even that Sansa had hoped that Jaime will move on from his long time co-star and ex-wife, and to her in a heartbeat. She wasn’t stupid. But she wished that he would at least open his eyes to see that beneath the elegance and the beauty, lie a deep rooted selfishness. Sansa had admired her boss, once upon a time. (Back when life was simpler and she still held dreams of being an actress herself.) But over the years of being subjected to every passive-aggressiveness known to man, Cersei Baratheon wielded her words proficiently; cutting you where you would least expect it and doing so with a fucking smile on her face without a hair out of place.
But that’s what makes her such a good actress - she’s managed to fool every single person in Westeros that she’s as meek as a lamb when she’s actually the wolf found in every children’s books.
“Sansa!”
She hastens her footsteps, grateful she’s wearing sensible boots on this wintry morning. She adjusts her scarf around her neck, raising it to hide her nose, red now because of the cold and the emotions she’s trying to keep back. When she feels his arm on her hand, the slap she lets loose was reflexive. “Don’t touch me.” Her voice was low, steely, cold. He takes a step back and releases his hold on her, surprised by the tone of her voice and the sting of her hand on his cheek. “Let me explain, please,” He doesn’t beg - he whinges, he throws tantrums in the guise of sarcastic remarks, but he doesn’t beg. But Sansa sees Jaime’s green eyes imploring her to hear him out and for some reason she doesn’t understand why, she does.
She raises her eyebrow prodding him to talk, her blue eyes still flashing in rage.
“I just,” He releases a breath and runs his hand through his hair in frustration. “There’s so much history between us you know?” Sansa continues to stare at him, unamused and unimpressed. It pushes him to talk more. “I thought that if I held on just a little bit longer, she’d remember how it was between the two of us,” He says, pacing back and forth. It was weak, he knows it was weak, but he's agitated and confused and -
“You know what I don’t understand about you,” she snaps at him, growing impatient at his excuses. “She drove you up the wall. And don’t bother denying it, I was there through all of it Jaime.” Sansa shoots him down right away the moment she sees him open his mouth to disagree. “She manipulated you for her personal gain, made you feel small at every turn, and oh!” Her voice was increasing in volume at every word. “Let’s not forget about the time she cheated on you with not one, but three guys.”
Jaime growls at her words, his ego more hurt at Cersei’s cheating and betrayal than any actual residual feelings. “Well what about you,” he throws back at her. “You took all her shit just as long as I did.” It’s not really a rebuttal, but he needed to say something to deflect the glaring mistake he’s done. “The difference between us, you asshole, is that I worked for her! I wasn’t in love with her!”
She was so angry she feels she could strangle him. He infuriates her but god help her, she’s in love with him and she’s hurt.
“Tell me one thing,” she asks him softly. “Did last night – Was I just –“ she brushes her fingers against the tears that have slipped away. “Did the time we spent with each other mean anything at all?” Sansa faces him head on, tucks a wisp of red hair behind her ears, and clears her throat.
“How come you didn’t pursue acting anymore?” They were huddled together by the fire in the hotel room. She was picking at the dinner roll room service brought in and he was mesmerized by her fingers flicking off crumbs.
She shrugged, her cardigan slipping off a little and Jaime reaches to her and puts it back in place. “After I started working for Cersei and saw how the industry worked – all the ass kissing and backstabbing, I just lost interest.” She fixes her gaze at him, a small smile graces her features. “I was great at it too,” she jokes. “Oh yeah?” he rides along. “Oh yeah. We did Jesus Christ Superstar in high school,” her eyes are twinkling and Jaime looks at her, leans in a little bit closer like a moth to a flame. “Best damn Mary Magdalene Winterfell had ever seen.” Sansa whispers, leaning in towards him, drawn in like a magnet. When he breathes out a chuckle, she feels it on her cheeks.
Sansa clears her throat to remind herself that this is her boss’s ex-husband and it would only be a terrible idea to go down that route. For all that Cersei seems charitable in public, she doesn’t just give anyone anything – not even her castoffs.
“Do you ever regret not taking a chance?” Jaime asks, voice low and unbothered by Sansa’s internal conflict. He thinks there might be something here, and he’s willing to see where it goes but he’ll take his cue from her.
She leans back in seat, the wrinkle in her brow telling him that she’s seriously considering her question. “Hm, no.” Her response sounded so sure, he lifts his brow in inquiry. “Sometimes, it’s just better when you’re not in the spotlight. When you work in the background silently, people overlook you.” She looks him in the eye as she speaks, body leaning towards him once more. “When they overlook you, they underestimate you. And I’d rather be underestimated.” She finishes.
“Why is that?” Jade eyes flick to rosy lips.
“Because no one expects you to do well. And it’s always a pleasure to see those smirks wiped off their smug faces when I disprove them.”
He gives her a smile that crinkles the side of his eyes and Sansa never thought he could get more handsome than that. “That’s a shame,” he tells her.
It is her turn to raise an eyebrow in question.
“I would’ve loved to have worked with you as your leading man.”
His words cause Sansa to blush, her hand raised to hit him in the shoulder lightly to get him to stop pulling her leg. Because Jaime Lannister couldn’t be flirting with her righ –
His kiss immediately silences the voice in her head. When she places her hand at his nape, and she smiles against his mouth, Sansa allows herself to think that maybe, hopefully, this could work.
Jaime opens his mouth to speak a few times, wanting desperately to be truthful but he hasn’t really processed everything that’s happened, and dammit he just needs a minute to take these all in.
But that’s a minute too long, and when Jaime sees her face crumple he knows he blew it.
“Goodbye Jaime, you two deserve each other.”
He thinks the sound of her footsteps crunching against the snow will haunt him more than Cersei’s cheating.