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Out of all the unfortunate things to happen in Sansa’s life, she thought the most might just be the fact that somehow in the four years since she’d seen him Theon Greyjoy got hot.
Which was annoying. He had never been unattractive, but he was always sort of unhinged. He’d been thinner than her brothers with wild hair and eyes that never seemed to properly land on anything unless it was a girl. His hygiene had left something to be desired, and he pretty much wore the same three shirts on rotation.
Now, though, he was back in Winterfell and sort of hot, and it was frankly distressing. Sansa didn’t know what to do with this information.
“Sansa,” he said with a nod the first time he walked through the front door without knocking, just the way he used to before. If she hadn’t known he was back in town she might have been freaked out, but the strangest thing of all was how it didn’t feel weird at all. As if no time had passed. “You’re looking positively pissed off this morning.”
“Yeah, well you’re here, aren’t you?” she said dryly.
His eyes snapped back to her, surprised and a little caught off guard by the laugh that ripped from his throat. They didn’t do this before—the banter, the laughter. Somehow, his laugh was kinda hot, too.
“Robb’s upstairs.” He’d nodded and made his way for the stairs, waving briefly over his shoulder and disappearing. “Fuck ,” she muttered to herself once she was sure he was out of earshot.
That wasn’t how she’d planned the Summer to start, and, unfortunately, it only seemed to get weirder from there.
Sansa was lining her eyes when she felt someone leaning in the doorway. She finished up the movement, looking at the consistency of her eyeliner on both eyes with a satisfied nod of her head before turning. There, in dark jeans and a hoodie was Theon trying his hardest to not look out of place. His hair was mussed in an attractive way, one wayward loose curl falling onto his forehead, and she felt her stomach flip.
“No,” she said with a shake of her head. She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “No. ”
His face grew offended quickly. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t. Small miracles, I guess,” Sansa said with a roll of her eyes. “I know why you’re here, though. Who called you? Robb or Arya?”
He narrowed his eyes, but then he pushed off the doorway and took a step into her room. He must have realized all of a sudden he was actually inside of her room, a place he’d never been, because his eyes trailed over the pinned up polaroids hanging from one of her strings of lights and the pinned up postcards around the head of her bed. He snapped his eyes away and back to her.
“Arya.”
“Huh. I would have thought Robb.” She sighed and almost brought a hand up to rub at her eye before remembering the work that just went in to making it perfect. “You don’t have to come with me.”
“Arya sort of made it sound like I did,” he said. “I don’t get why since she wasn’t all that specific on details, but she said you shouldn’t go to things alone and since no one else was around, then I should “get my lazy arse up and do it”.”
“Articulate,” Sansa said. “Why would you possibly agree? You were always a dick to me.”
He raised a brow. “I don’t think that's fair. You were rude to me first, I was just being a reciprocal dick in response.”
She rolled her eyes again. “Cute.”
“I am, thank you for noticing.” His smirk was light, proud of himself. Sansa wanted to laugh, but she bit it down with a smile. “You know, I get everyone else, right? Like, it’s not as if I stopped talking to Robb and Jon, and seeing Arya four years older is a little weird, but she makes sense to me. Bran and Rickon, too. But you, sometimes you do and sometimes you don’t.”
It surprised her that he would have noticed, but there had been enough things since he had left to change her completely. Life wasn’t all sunshine and songs, and though she could hold onto that with as much heart as she wanted she had to hold onto the truth as well. There were bad people out there, and they would do bad things to you if given the chance.
“You try not to show it, but you’re different, too,” she said in reply. She couldn’t open up about all the shit in her life, not to this person she knew but didn’t know at all. They’d never been close like that in the first place.
He tilted his head, trying to play it light but she could see there was something twitching underneath his calm features. “Will you just let me be your date to this stupid party so your sister won’t murder me?”
“Date,” she said, the word coming out of her mouth slow. That could work. She didn’t want to show up with some family friend that everyone in her friend group would instantly know was chaperoning her, but a date? And if he didn’t accept it better for her. Then she could go alone as she had planned.
“What the hell do you want me to call it? Friendly companion? Escort?”
“Please don’t say escort like that, and– Wait. Be my boyfriend.”
His whole body stilled. He looked at her like she had gone properly crazy, which she was fairly sure she had. “What ?”
“You can come with me to this party if you pretend to be my boyfriend,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. She felt like she had finally regained the power in this conversation, and it felt good. “I can’t have people think you’re some awkward chaperone, but if you come as my boyfriend it works out perfectly fine with me.”
“Why would you want people thinking I’m your boyfriend?”
“Hot, older boy who can do nothing but make Willas finally jealous enough to ask me out? Don’t know why that would be so repulsive to me.” She could see it on his face then that he regretted ever walking into her room, ever agreeing to Arya that he would do this, and she knew he would back out.
He tilted his head. “You think I’m hot.”
Damnit. She stood up straighter. “You are objectively attractive.”
“You think I’m hot.” His smile had turned smug, and she hated him more.
“Are you going to do it or not?” she asked. “I would really rather like to go to this party alone, but if you insist on coming.”
“I’m too scared of your sister to back out of any deal we made,” he said. “I’ll be your boyfriend if that's the price. No kissing or anything that’ll get me in trouble with Robb.”
“Oh, ‘cause you’re so irresistible I won’t be able to keep my hands off you, right?” She scoffed as she reached behind her to grab her jean jacket off of her desk chair and throw it on. Actually, he was sort of irresistible, but she wasn't going to tell him that. “Let’s go.”
This was a bad idea. She knew it with every part of her being, and yet it couldn’t possibly be that bad, right? She had to hope that this what the right way forward.
The party was already in full swing when they arrived, and Sansa reveled in the bass of the music and the slight darkness of the space. There was something that calmed her about disappearing into a crowd, of not being tied to who she was. At a party, she could find moments where she almost felt out of her body.
With Theon, though, the sensation was dulled but it didn’t seem that bad. He kept close as they made their way toward the Tyrell’s kitchen to get a drink, even at one point bringing his hand to her lower back as they shuffled through a group of people.
“You regretting that hoodie, yet?” she asked. The space was warm and tight, but they broke through the crowd toward the less full kitchen.
“I’ll survive as soon as I get a drink,” he said.
He grabbed a beer from a cooler on the floor, offering her one first which she took. It wasn’t her drink of choice, but she didn’t like having open drinks at a party when she didn’t know who could steal it or slip something inside. A beer was much safer, and she sipped it slowly. From the window over the sink, she could see Margaery out on the porch, and she reached for Theon’s arm.
“Come on,” she said, and he followed dutifully. She could appreciate him being such a willing fake boyfriend. “Marg!” she called when they had slipped through the sliding doors.
“Sansa!” Margaery turned with her red lips spread in a wide smile. She looked beautiful—hair curled, cheeks prettily blushed, eyes bright. Sansa was sort of pulled into her magnetism every time she was near, and she felt lucky to be her friend. “And who are you?”
“Theon Greyjoy,” he said as he held out a hand. Margaery took it, and Sansa could tell she was gripping hard. Always a power play.
She raised a brow. “Oh, you’re Theon Greyjoy?”
Sansa regretted ever texting Margaery to tell her about how her brother’s best friend came back to town and was suddenly hot. When she’d said it she didn’t expect the two of them to ever meet, but of course the world was still fucking with her. She should have known, really. She could practically feel Theon’s smirk all the way over here.
“And what exactly did you say about me, Sansa dear?” he asked.
She turned to look at him, narrowing her eyes and wishing she could punch that look off his face. “You know, the usual. You’re insufferable. I can’t believe I let you around me. Etcetera. Etcetera.”
Margaery laughed, the sound as light as bells. She circled her drink in front of them. “I like this. Is this a this?”
Sansa shrugged, but Theon pulled her into his side. How had she thought this wouldn’t blow up in her face again? Of course he was going to love every second of the act.
“Girlfriend?” Theon suggested. “I assume she had a crush on me her whole childhood and only got around to admitting how irresistible I am now.”
Sansa scoffed then, but when she looked over at him she couldn’t help but wear a softer smile. “You didn’t know how to use deodorant and you never combed your hair. How exactly was that the man of my childhood dreams?”
“Speaking of childhood and dreams and men for that matter,” Margaery said, now turning her attention more toward Theon. “How likely would you be in helping a girl out with attracting her brother? Sansa refuses.”
“I don’t refuse, but I’m not entirely convinced you won’t chew Robb up and spit him out,” Sansa said. Theon was still holding her to him, and she didn’t mind reaching her arm around his back to keep him there. He was warm, and he smelled good, and she was a lightweight who could already feel the beer’s effect.
“I’m not entirely convinced Robb would hate that,” he said. He laughed a little, and Sansa could feel the vibrations through his side. “Next time we all do something you can come along. I’m sure you’re charming enough to woo him without much help.”
“I like you,” Margaery said. She turned to Sansa then and patted her cheek. “A good one. Come play a drinking game with me and…” she trailed off as she eyed the porch for someone to grab. “Willas! Perfect, my brother can play.”
He was talking to some girl Sansa didn’t recognize and Jeyne (who gave her a friendly wave upon noticing she was there), and when he turned his eyes grazed over Margaery to land on Sansa. Then he hopped up the stairs to join them.
“Quarters?” he asked. “Count me in.”
They made their way back into the house, and they all waited around for the kitchen table to clear up from whatever game some other people were playing. It was nice having Theon at her side to keep the conversation going between them all, and while she had thought he might be too cocky or uninterested to fit in well, it was actually the exact opposite.
Playing against Willas and Margaery, Sansa forgot that she had initially come with the intention of making Willas jealous. There was something about being by Theon’s side that was infectious, sort of thrilling. The game wasn’t meant to be played as teams, but it was fairly clear early on whose alliances landed with whom.
“Kiss it,” he said as he held out the quarter. “I need good luck.”
“This is probably unsanitary,” she said, but she bent forward and did it anyways. He ruffled her hair before placing a quick kiss on the top of her head, and when he shot and made it into what they had deemed the final cup of the night the two of them burst into screams.
Theon grabbed her around her waist and twirled her around. She came back to the floor, but now they were so close and his hands were resting on her waist and—she took a step back, trying to regain herself. This wasn’t real. He smiled at her, and it was all soft and hazy. Her heart clenched. This wasn’t real.
She was three beers and a shot in, pretty drunk to be quite honest, when Joffrey made an appearance. They were all hanging out in the kitchen—Margaery, Jeyne, Willas, Loras, and Renly too. It was getting late, and Sansa knew they’d have to leave soon but she wanted to soak in another minute of her being out and it not feeling like being babysat or the past creeping in.
There he was, though. Just as blonde. Just as much of a prat. Maybe she would never really escape the past. It was like it was a year and a half ago, and she was coming home for Arya to find bruises on her arms and back. Wordlessly, Sansa reached out for Theon’s hand and held it tight. She turned back to the conversation, not wanting to stare at that boy any longer, not wanting to give him an inch of the power. She felt Theon squeeze her hand.
When she looked over to him, his brow was furrowed. He dipped closer, bringing himself near her ear. “You wanna go?” he asked. He pulled back slightly to see her face. “Let’s go.” Perfectly friendly, as if it wasn’t a big deal he turned toward their small circle. “We have to head out guys, but it was nice to hang.”
His hand stayed in her own as he gave out a few pats on the arms and handshakes. Sansa reached forward to kiss both Margaery and Jeyne goodbye on the cheek.
“You gonna help me get it in?” Margaery asked as Theon said bye to her last.
“Oh, ew,” Sansa said.
Theon laughed. “You will not need my help, but I’m all yours. See you soon.” He turned away and let Sansa lead them out, holding onto her all the while. Getting through the main push of the crowd in the living room, Theon’s front was against her back, and she could feel his breaths flutter stray hairs that had fallen from her braid. A chill ran up the back of her arms.
The front yard was large and empty, and Sansa felt like she could finally take a deep breath as they spilled onto the lawn. Theon had driven which she now appreciated more due to the alcohol that was coursing through her system. Until Joffrey, she really had had a good night with Theon.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked. She shook her head no. A good time didn’t much mean she actually wanted to talk about it. “You want chips?” he asked next.
She smiled over at him. “Yes, actually.”
“We’ll get chips, then.” They walked in silence for a minute. “You know you’re still holding my hand, right?”
She looked down. She was. “Oh, sorry.” The hand dropped listlessly to her side.
He reached out and took it back in his own. When she gave him a questioning look, he sent a half-smile back. “Well, you see, now I’m holding your hand. You don’t have to feel all stupid about it.”
It was sort of ridiculous, and Sansa couldn’t help but feel a laugh take her over. She flung her head back with the sound of it. “That’s so—”
“Embarrassing, soppy, I know. Don’t tell Robb he’ll never stop taking the mickey out of me.”
She crossed her heart with her free hand and smiled back. “And hope to die.”
Theon was her date to two more parties by the end of the month, and then they started just hanging out casually, and Theon was hot but also funny and Sansa hated every inch of the reality she had fallen into. At some point, he had actually become one of her friends, and she did not understand that. One of her best friends. No fucking sense.
One Saturday she woke up and came downstairs to find him in the living room, half-sprawled on the couch and half-falling over the side. Rickon was there, too, but in the recliner and with a video game controller still in his lap.
She would have been sort of mad except it was cute, and she hated that.
“Come on,” she whispered to Rickon who gave her no more than a huff. She grabbed one of his arms and pulled it over her shoulder, and he woke up enough to be guided back to his bedroom.
When she came back to the living room she turned the television off and put the controllers away. Then she turned to eye Theon.
He looked peaceful. He looked sort of beautiful. She had not planned for this, she thought for the millionth time. None of it. She grabbed a blanket from the the nearby chair and laid it over him. It was unlikely he’d get more than another hour of sleep before people in the house were up and bothering him, but she didn’t want to interrupt him yet either.
“Thanks,” he mumbled as he grabbed it and turned onto his side, finally the rogue leg back up on the couch.
She had the oddest desire to reach out and pet his wild curl back. She went to go make coffee instead. Much safer.
“Why do they not want you going anywhere alone?” Theon asked after a little more than a month since that first party.
They were back at the Tyrells, though this time it was just to watch movies and hang out casually. Robb and Margaery were currently making popcorn, Arya was talking to some giant of a dude named Gendry, and Sansa had been filled with the hugest desire to swing on the Tyrell’s tree swing.
Theon had said he wanted to smoke anyways, but now he had finished a cigarette and was just watching as she made small swoops on the swing.
“Took you long enough to ask,” she said.
He shrugged. “I never wanted to push. I heard someone say something the other day, though, guess I wanted to see if it was true.”
Sansa hated this bit. She hated telling people about the sad story of her trauma and the way it clouded their eyes instantly. It had been easier with Arya because she had been the one to figure it out, but Margaery had looked devastated. Robb had been fueled with rage.
“It was when I was dating Joffrey a bit more than a year ago. He wasn’t good,” Sansa said though she knew that was simplifying it. He was a horror. A manipulative, abusive piece of shit she wished she could have done more to stop. Instead she somehow still had to see him at parties and in public. “He tried to isolate me from my friends, my family. It got bad. Then Arya noticed the bruises on my arms, and it…”
She didn’t know if this would ever get easier, but when she looked up at Theon he seemed to be taking all the words in and keeping his mouth firmly shut. She didn’t want him to think she was broken.
“My dad,” Theon said. “He…” The sentence never ended, but he flipped his arm over to show a scar that lined his right forearm in a jagged line.
Sansa stood up from the swing, turned around, and pushed her shirt collar down until the scar of her own was on display. He had pushed her into the wall one afternoon, and there had been a nail sticking out that sliced her in a mark that looked something like a checkmark.
When she turned around, he was giving her a sad sort of smile. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“I’m sorry for you, too.” She sighed, and from here they could see their friends laughing and smiling through the tall, wide windows of the house. It felt sort of like looking at a painting at the museum—beautiful, nearly tangible, but not quite real. “There are a lot of shit people in this world.”
“Yeah.” Theon reached out for her hand then, and she held his back. “Let’s go back to our good ones, yeah?”
Sansa was practically leaning over the bar at this point trying to get the bartender to notice her. She had one foot up on the ledge of a stool and she was hinged at the hip, one hand out over as she tried to wave the girl over. She was flirting with someone on the other end, and it was fine but also Sansa needed a drink, like now.
Suddenly, there was a hand on the small of her back, and she was about three seconds away from grabbing her pepper spray and saying to hell with all the other people around her anyways, when she saw Theon’s face.
“You’ve been gone a while,” he said, and he motioned to his now empty bottle that had been half full when she left. “I finished it in the time you’ve been fooling about.”
“Fooling about?” she scoffed. “It’s not my fault this bartender can’t see me. She’s too busy trying to get fucked.”
Theon kept a hold of her as she lowered back to her feet, and he crept up to the bar to get closer himself. It left them barely any room, bodies nearly flush against one another, and Sansa was glad for the low lighting so Theon couldn’t see the possibility of a blush growing over her cheeks.
He bent over the bar, stuck two fingers in his mouth, and whistled so loud all the heads in the vicinity turned toward him. When the bartender looked over she narrowed her eyes at him, and he motioned for her to come over.
“There,” he said with a self-satisfied smile.
“There?” she asked. “Now she’s just going to spit in my fucking drink.”
“Nah, that's my sister. If anything she’ll just spit in mine.”
“Your sister?” Sansa didn’t think she’d ever met Yara, but she had heard some about her. Theon and her hadn’t been that close when she lived with their dad and him their mom, but now after four years of bonding under the same roof Sansa wondered what their dynamic must have been like. “She’s hot.”
“Do not tell her that,” he said. He ran a hand through his hair, and Sansa wondered if he was nervous now that she was coming toward them. “She’ll try to hit on you.”
Sansa smirked, feeling that satisfying feeling of knowing she had grasped an upper hand. There was something about messing with Theon that was always sort of exhilarating, fun in a way she sometimes struggled to find. “And if I want her to?”
His face turned from where he was watching his sister back to hers, and he tilted his head to the side. “It might be sort of suspicious. Flirting with your hot, older boyfriend’s sister, that is.”
She laughed. “I knew I’d regret those words for the rest of my life.”
“I know what he wants, but what can I get you?” Yara asked as she finally arrived. “Sorry it took me a bit. I’m trying to get this girl to fall in love with me.”
“In love? That's new,” Theon said as he dipped onto the bar top with his arms. Sansa was trying hard to not look at the broad planes of his bare forearms as he did so.
Yara shrugged. “I’m multidimensional. Now, the girl who’s too pretty be hanging with this idiot, what would you like?”
“Hey, that's my girlfriend.”
Yara raised a brow at Sansa. She didn’t know how to respond to that. “Unfortunately,” Sansa said. Yara laughed, clearly amused as Theon groaned. “Can I get a vodka cranberry?”
“For Theon’s girlfriend? Anything.” She tapped the bar as she turned.
Sansa watched Theon as he pointedly looked away, her smile growing wider the whole time, until he finally turned. “What?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she sing-songed because she could, and it was fun, and she wanted to have fun tonight. He rolled his eyes, and she smiled wider. “I’m your girlfriend.”
“We are fake-dating, aren’t we?” he asked.
“I just hadn’t heard you say it before. Why are you lying to your sister?” she asked.
Theon looked past her for a second, and Sansa was reminded again how close they were and how much she liked looking at him from this angle. His jaw was sharp and lined with scruff and his eyes so blue. It was like seeing him in high definition. When he turned to look at her again, his face looked sort of soft. He brought up a hand and tucked a stray hair of hers behind her ear. She tried to keep her breathing even.
“Is it so bad to want my sister to think I can do something right?” he asked.
“I’m something right?” she replied, hating the way her voice had gone a little breathy. It wasn’t that she didn’t think it of herself, but for him to think it was something different. Fake-dating Theon was fine, had been since the first time they did it, but it was moments like these that were hard.
When he would look at her and for a split second she almost thought he was actually in love with her. Then, all she wanted to do was reach out and tell him it could be, maybe. It was easier with him then she ever would have expected.
“You’re unarguably right,” he said with a tilted smile.
“God, you really are into him,” Yara said with a teasing smile as she handed over the drink, appearing without warning. “What’s your name, by the way? One of those Starks?”
“Sansa.” She held out a hand and the two women shook over the bar. “Your brother is probably one of the worst things to ever happen to me.”
“You don’t sound upset about that.”
Sansa beamed, reaching out and grabbing him around the waist. “I’m not.” Because she could, because she felt sort of wild with the way he was looking down at her, she bent forward to kiss his jaw. “Nice to meet you, Yara. Good luck with that girl.”
Yara nodded and motioned with her head. “Good luck with him.”
Sansa wanted to look away. She really, really did, but there was something both disturbing and fascinating with the way Margaery and Robb flirted with one another. It was like somehow they both wanted so desperately to win the other over while simultaneously knowing they already had, and Sansa felt like she was watching animals at a zoo circle one another.
“I’m gonna go for a smoke. You wanna come with?” Theon asked as he leaned into her space. “Or do you want to wait until they just start fucking on the table?”
“Gross,” she said with an exasperated sigh, though she thought he was kinda right. “I don’t smoke.”
He rolled his eyes. “Good. I didn’t ask if you wanted to, just if you wanted to come with. Come on.”
She sort of hated to give him the satisfaction, but she followed him anyways. Jon and Arya had disappeared somewhere earlier in the night, and Sansa wasn’t going to sit around as Margaery and Robb kept doing… whatever they were doing.
While Sansa didn’t like smoking, she sort of liked being out when others were. The smell wasn’t great, and she hated when the smoke got into her hair and wouldn’t leave, but it was nice to get a break from the space and take a deep breath. Theon reached into his back pocket for a cigarette, and despite teasing her earlier he offered her one, too.
That was something sort of nice about Theon that she had grown to notice and appreciate since he had come back. He always offered, even if he thought she might not want, and when she didn’t take he made no comment on it. There was something open about him, even if it was silent and done without deep intention.
“You aren’t mad about me inviting her so they could hang out or anything, are you?” he asked between puffs of smokes.
Sansa hated how attractive it was when he smoked. The cigarette between his long fingers, the way he brought it up peacefully to his lips, the way he blew smoke up and she was left looking at the long lines of his neck. She leaned back against the brick of the pub and was grateful for the cool feeling against her back. It was grounding.
“No,” she said. “I was worried for a bit because Marg is one of my closest friends, and I don’t have a lot of friends outside my family that actually know everything, and I guess I thought maybe with them together I’d have no one? It was stupid, but now I know I always have them.” She stopped watching the strangers passing by and looked back to him. “I have other people, too.”
It looked like he was biting back a smile, and he brought the cigarette back to his mouth. A girl with long blonde hair approached with an unlit cigarette in her mouth. “Hey, could you come light us up?” she asked.
“Why not.” He looked to Sansa. “You good for a second?”
She nodded and watched him walk over to a group of about five people. He chatted briefly as they passed the lighter around, and Sansa liked to lean her head back against the wall too and rest her eyes. The night had a good sort of chill, and she drank it in.
“Are you alright?” came a voice, and she opened her eyes to see a guy a few years older than her, dark hair, darker eyes. There was something predatory about the way he curved toward her.
“I’m fine, thank you,” she said as pleasant as she could manage, hoping he would get the hint and be on his way.
“Are you waiting for someone? Because if you weren’t, I would be happy to escort you in or home...” His eyes trailed down her body, and she pushed off the wall to stand up taller. She needed all her power to make it clear he couldn’t control her.
“I really don’t think that’ll be happening,” she said with a pained smile. “Have a nice night.”
His face darkened, and he stepped forward to grab her wrist. “You don’t have to be rude.”
Her hand was already on the pepper spray in her pocket when Theon was pushing in to punch him straight on the jaw. There was a loud crack, and Sansa couldn’t tell if it had been Theon’s hand or the man’s face.
Theon stepped forward to take him down, to keep going, but Sansa placed a hand on his chest. “Please. Don’t.”
She grabbed his good hand and interlaced their fingers, tugging him back into the pub and pushing her way to the bar. Yara was back flirting with the blonde girl at the corner of the bar, but when Sansa arrived she hit the top of the bar hard until Yara caught sight of her and turned. Her eyebrows crashed together.
“First aid kit?” Sansa called.
Yara grabbed it and brought it over. “He okay?”
“Just punched some creep. He’ll be fine,” she said. “Thanks.”
Sansa kept tugging him behind her until they got to the bathrooms, pushing her way to the front to grab the single stall and closing it behind her back. She paused to take a breath, watching Theon in front of her looking sort of wrecked. His hair was messy, his eyes still ready to land another punch, and there was blood on his knuckles. That made her burst into action, and she reached for paper towel to dampen it.
“You should have let me take care of him,” he said.
“You did. Let it go.”
“That was nothing. He was touching you, Sansa. I should have–”
“What?” she asked. “Killed him? Beaten him until your hands were bloody and I’d have to fix you worse? No. You don’t get to get hurt because of me.”
He winced as she dabbed at his knuckles. She reached for the antiseptic, and he winced some more.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“No one can protect anyone,” she said with a shake of her head, feeling the moment rise to emotion. She was shaking a little, vibrating with feeling she was struggling to identify, and he stepped closer to reach out for her face. Sansa wanted to fix him, needed to.
“Sansa,” he said her name again, so soft. “Are you okay? Just… stop and breathe for a minute.”
“The monsters always survive.” She crushed her eyes closed and thought about Joffrey walking about his life as if nothing had changed. Her stomach plummeted as it had several times before thinking about how maybe he was hurting someone else now, and that she could have done something more to stop it. Theon’s thumb rubbed over her cheek, and she opened her eyes. “Don’t get hurt.”
“I’m fine.” He smiled at her, and it was full enough for her to be able to suck in a deep breath, finally. “I’m going to hug you now.”
“Okay.” She nodded, and when he wrapped his arms around her, she pulled him in as close as she dared. She smelled his scent and rested her face into his neck. “Thank you.”
“Thank you.” Sansa wasn’t sure what Theon was thanking her back for, but it felt real. It was honest enough to fill her right up.
They were all hanging around their pool in the back, but while all their siblings and Theon and Margaery were in the water, Robb and Sansa were passing a bag of crisps back and forth by the side.
“Why does Marg think you two are dating?” Robb asked, motioning his head toward Theon as his feet splashed against the surface of the water.
“Oh.” Sansa brought her sunglasses up to hold back her hair, the sun shining a little less bright to facilitate it. “He’s been my fake boyfriend for events none of you can go to. I got tired of having chaperones, so he comes and pretends instead so I don’t have to go alone.”
Robb stared at her long enough that Sansa felt sweat bead at the back of her neck with nerves before he laughed so loud the whole pool looked over at them. Sansa waved her hand, telling them to go back to their weird game she couldn’t possibly understand the rules of. Somehow, Rickon was on Margaery’s shoulders but Bran and Theon both had to hold Arya up sideways, and there were two balls and… yeah, she was not going to try to fathom it.
“That’s actually kinda brilliant,” he said after catching his breath. “I’m kinda surprised so many people believed it, though.”
Sansa shrugged. “He’s a good actor.”
Robb scoffed, and when Sansa turned to give him a raise of her brow he shook his head. “Theon is not a good actor. He fancies you.”
“Fancies me?” She turned to look at Theon who was no longer helping Arya to stay up but somehow had both balls and was swimming away from Bran. His hair was wet and pushed back, and he was laughing as Bran finally caught up to him to tug him under.
He couldn’t fancy her. None of this had ever been real.
“Yeah. Properly, I think.” Robb reached a hand into the bag and shoved a handful in his mouth, shrugging all the while as if this wasn’t earth-shattering news. “If you want to date him for real, you have my blessing. You seem like a cute couple and all that. Just don’t make me watch it all the time.”
“Oh, like you and my best friend?” she asked.
Robb narrowed his eyes, but he must have stayed quiet because he realized the hypocrisy.
“Aren’t you supposed to like get mad about me dating your best friend? Or try to defend my honor or something?” she asked.
“Do you want me to?”
She bit her lip as she thought it over. This news was still too wild to have set in, and she knew it would hit her later the implications of all of that. If he really, truly liked her then that meant they could become a relationship no fake in the front of it. Did she want him to be that?
Damnit. She wished Theon had never come back hotter and nicer and funnier than he’d been when he left. It would make her life so much easier.
“I don’t know how to process any of this so we’re not going to talk about it anymore. Can I have the crisps?”
He handed the bag back, and as soon as she placed them safely behind herself, she reached over and pushed him off the ledge and into the water. When he popped up sputtering, she gave him a sweet smile and wave in response.
“You think that's cute, do you?”
“I’m always cute,” she replied, and she could feel Theon sending her a smirk somewhere across the pool for using his line.
Robb tugged her foot and pulled her in. The water was cool and blue. It felt nice against her skin, and she almost didn’t want to come back to the surface.
“Dinner is ready,” Sansa said hours later. She had already gone in and switched back into clothes, though her hair was still wet and dripping into the fabric of her shirt.
Everyone else had abandoned the pool except for Theon, who was floating spread out like a starfish. He had abs, she realized with frustration. Proper abs and a tan. She sat at the lip of the pool again, dipping her legs in as she waited for him to stand up.
“You have to get out of the water sometime,” she called after another minute.
Theon flipped over onto his stomach and dipped under the water, swimming all the way over to her and popping up. The hair stuck to his forehead before he pushed it back. His fingers pulled at her toes, and she gave him a warning glare to not pull any funny business.
“It’s so peaceful. Why would I want to leave?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I mean I’m on land. There’s also a pretty delicious dinner ready to go.”
He stood to his full height in the water, and some of the water seemed to jump from him to hit her thighs and calves. One of his hands came to grab at her calf, and this close Sansa realized he was practically standing right between her thighs.
“You make a convincing argument.”
She shrugged. He looked like the water was more comfortable to him than land, and Sansa wondered if he could stay in there forever. “Do you miss Pyke?” she asked.
He tilted his head. “The water, yes. Pyke? No.”
“Why did you come back here? I mean now. You’ve been legal for two years.”
His eyes trained past her, but she kept watching his face. It was open, but it was hard to read anything on it because it was neutral. For a minute, it felt like Theon was pacing over the right words. Then, he snapped back to the present.
“You guys always felt like my real family growing up,” he said. “My mom, too, obviously, but she’s gone now. I’d been trying so hard since turning eighteen to make it work there, like I could actually make him proud. I got sick of it. I missed feeling home.”
The familiar bubble of rage at his father burst up, but she clenched it down.
“You have Yara, though. Right?”
“Yeah, I do.” He nodded. “She’s the best thing to come from Pyke, but the rest of it I don’t miss. I’m glad to be back here and see you all again.”
Robb had said once in passing, a sort of pissed off comment he hadn’t probably realized he was even saying aloud, that Theon’s dad was an arsehole. That had been before Sansa and Theon shared their moment by the tree, though they hadn’t talked about it again since. There wasn’t a need to. They understood each other, and you didn’t need more words for that. Sansa knew now that Robb had been understating it. She knew that he was so much worse than just an arsehole.
She hated, though, that besides for the physical signs of anger on his body, Theon also looked vulnerable. As if it was his fault that he had never faced up to impossible expectations. Sansa wished she could ease his pain, that he never had to feel hated by his own father. He didn’t deserve to feel unaccepted or unloved. But he was accepted here, and she was happy that he had come home.
“I’m your favorite, though, right?” she asked with a sweet smile, trying to ease the discomfort from his features as she leaned forward.
He smirked. “Don’t tell Robb. He’ll never recover.”
Sansa flung herself face first down onto Arya’s bed. “I’m an idiot.”
“Please, do come in,” Arya said from her desk as she finished typing something up. She spun in her chair and eyed her sister. “What the hell are you on about now?”
“Theon has a crush on me.”
“Yes. Obvious.” Arya laughed. “Aren’t you guys fake dating, anyways?”
Sansa flipped around so she was on her back, arms flung to the sides. “We are. Why’d he have to get hot. This all happened cause he came home and got hot. And it ruined everything. I was so happy when he was the angry boy who barely showered.”
“I wasn’t. He was sort of an annoying prick. Now he’s a fun prick.” Arya scratched at the side of her face before sighing and scooting the chair closer. “Do you like him? Is this what that's about?”
Sansa grabbed one of her pillow and brought it to her face, screaming into it. Then she flung it to the side. “What would make you say that.”
“You are the definition of too much,” Arya said with a laugh. “You two will figure it out, I’m sure. Or maybe not, but it’ll be fun to watch.”
They had not figured it out. Or at least Sansa was pretty sure she hadn’t.
They were at Yara’s bar again, Theon’s arm thrown around Sansa’s shoulder because some guy had kept trying to hit on her, when she looked up at him and couldn’t stop the thought that she really fucking liked him. The sort of like that would only bloom and blossom into feeling more, and Sansa knew in that moment she would not be able to turn back.
She was so much more fucked than she had originally thought, and certainly not in the good way. Though, maybe it could be the good way if Robb was right and Theon really liked her back.
He knew her now, though. They were friends. They had shared intimate secrets. If she opened herself up that last bit and he turned her down. She thought she might rather die, actually.
“You need another drink?” he asked.
His mouth was close to her ear, and the feel of the words shot right through her. When she looked at him he appeared so carefree. He was in a simple shirt tonight, dark jeans, but he looked good. Everything about him was sort of intoxicating, and she could imagine it right here and now. If she wanted to, she could dip forward and kiss him.
She could suggest going back to his place, and they could kiss and touch and fuck. Looking into his eyes right now, she knew he would give it to her if she asked. That was power, but she didn’t think she wanted it. That was the sort of power that had only ever been held over her, and she didn’t want to wield it. She didn’t want to hurt him.
And she didn’t want to hurt herself. It would be self-destructive to do that, even if it would feel good in the moment. For them, for her at least, it was all or nothing. Sansa couldn’t do halves when it came to him, which was the oddest realization she’d had so far somehow. Theon Greyjoy of all people.
“No, I’m good,” she said, but when he set down his beer she took it to take a sip.
“You’re the worst,” he said with a laugh and a shake of his head, but he looked sort of fond.
Sansa felt unbelievably fond in response.
She was only a beer in at Margaery’s birthday party when Sansa went to find Theon. He was here somewhere, she knew he had to be because they’d come together in the car with Robb.
“He said he was grabbing something from his coat, love,” Margaery said to her as she passed, patting her shoulder.
Sansa wasn’t sure how the hell she could know what she had been intending, but Sansa appreciated it all the same. There were times Margaery’s strange perceptive tools came in handy. When she opened the large walk-in closet, he was exactly where she had been told he would be. His hand was rifling through the pocket of his coat, and he looked up startled when she opened the door.
“Something wrong?” he asked. He pulled out his lighter with a triumphant smile and shoved it into his pocket.
Stepping through the door, Sansa closed it behind herself.
“We should date,” she said.
There had been a lot of words she had planned for when she finally got to this moment, but those hadn’t exactly been them. It was just… she’d been out on the lawn, and Arya had been sitting casually in Gendry’s lap as he told some story, and Sansa ached. She wanted Theon—without rules, without exceptions—like that. She just wanted him in every way.
He raised a single brow, and she could see amusement was already spreading over his lips. It was really kind of attractive, and she hated that but also because she sort of loved it. She almost sort of loved him.
“I thought we were. Or am I no longer your boyfriend?”
“For real date,” she replied. He was still stepping closer to her, and it made her nervous. “Or no dating at all. I can’t handle you being my fake boyfriend anymore.”
He was a step away from her when he finally stopped. Sansa wanted him closer, but that would mean all of them together. She needed certainty first.
“And why’s that?” he asked.
“Because I actually like you. It’s the worst.”
He didn’t seem offended in the least. “You sure know how to make a guy feel special.”
She shrugged. “Perks of me as a girlfriend, I guess.”
“Okay, then.”
“Okay?” Her brow furrowed. “It’s that easy?”
“I’ve been pretty much into you since the day I got back and found out you had gotten miraculously hotter and only wittier and smarter, so yeah. It’s that easy. Pretty sure this is all a dream, anyways.” He reached a hand out and pushed the hair out of her face. “You did trap me in a closet after all. Straight out of one of my fantasies.”
“Please kiss me before I regret all of this.” Her smile was almost too wide for her to get the words out, though, and she felt like nothing but sunshine.
Theon didn’t waste a second after that, but neither did she as they met in the middle. His hands clasped the side of her face, and she snaked her arms around his waist to bring him close. She thought kissing Theon might be as wild as he sometimes looked to her, but he was actually incredibly measured. His lips moved in perfect time with hers, and when he dipped his tongue into her mouth it wasn’t exaggerated or salacious.
She was right about it being intoxicating, though, the way she often felt around him. He stepped them forward just a bit until her back was against the door again. From here it was easier to get as in contact with him as she wanted because they had a surface for leverage. He bent and kissed marks down her neck, and his thigh slotted between her legs, and this was the sort of hot she had fantasized about when she first saw him walk into her house after getting back.
“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” he asked in a breath as he sucked a mark into her collarbone.
Sansa, quite honestly, was feeling too much for her brain to properly work at all. Her hands were in his hair, and she pulled his face up to be in level with hers again. “I really like you,” she said.
He smiled, not smirked, and it sent a shot right through her heart. As he opened his mouth to say something else, she pulled him back in instead. Her lips couldn’t get enough of him. She never wanted this to end, never wanted to go back to the party and—
The door was pulled from behind her back, and Sansa stumbled into the hallway with Theon still half attached to her. When she regained her balance, surely looking properly kissed and all sorts of jumbled, she saw Margaery staring between the two of them.
“This… is the best birthday present you could have given me.” Margaery cheered her drinks to no one since the hallway was empty except for them, following it with a large drink. “Gods, you two go back into that closet and make sweet birthday love in my honor.”
“Yeah, you made it super weird now,” Sansa said. She turned toward Theon, a warmth spreading through her chest as she grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together. He brought it up to his lip and gave her knuckle a brief kiss. “But Happy Birthday.”
“No,” Margaery said, drunkenly reaching forward and giving them each a kiss on the cheek. “Happy Birthday to each of you. ”
“That’s… not how it works,” Theon said. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
Margaery snapped. “That’s a good idea. I’m going to go find him. Bye, babes.”
She disappeared, and Sansa turned back around to give him a sound kiss on the lips. “Let’s go back to the party. We can make sweet birthday love later. Preferably not in the Tyrell’s closet.”
“I mean…” Theon said with an innocent look that was truly anything but. “I wouldn’t be opposed— ”
She gave him a glare, and he smiled like a dope in reply. He reached forward and kissed both her cheeks before kissing her lips.
“Whatever my girlfriend wants.”
Out of all the unfortunate things to happen in Sansa’s life, she thought the most might just be the fact that at some point Theon Greyjoy had gotten hot. But at least now he was hers.