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Sansa Stark, Arya’s sister, had just gotten a new job as the receptionist for some place called Clegane’s Home Renovations. Sansa being a receptionist, let alone one for a small home renovations company, was not at all the career path anyone in the family expected her to take, least of all her. But, in this economy, you gotta take what you can get sometimes.
Now, did that mean Sansa was happy to work at a job she was way overqualified for?
Not if the multiple “woe is me” phone calls Arya has had the pleasure of sitting through was any indication.
Grumbles aside, Sansa was a Stark through and through, so if she said she’d take a job, she’s do it 110%. So Arya was confident she’d… do whatever it was receptionist do, but like in a really awesome way.
That didn’t mean she wasn’t worried about her big sister, though.
So, in a show of support, Arya decided to pay her a surprise visit, to check up on her and make sure she was settling in well at her new job. Because that’s what good sisters do.
“Good sisters?” Sansa asked with a raised brow, head tilted in her hand as she leaned an elbow on her desk.
“That is what I said.” Arya confirmed, mirroring her sister’s stance on the opposite side of the desk, albeit from a standing position.
Sansa’s desk was one of the few pieces of furniture in what was apparently supposed to be the waiting room of the so called Clegane Home Renovations, the others being a handful of chairs, a coffee table with a neat covering of magazines of mostly tools and other DIY topics, and another table on the opposite side of the room dubbed worthy to hold not only the coffee maker but also all the supplies needed to make the morning brew.
“Are you trying to say that you are a good sister?”
“Am I not the best sister you’ve ever had.” Arya asked, faux offense at an all time high.
“My only sister.” Sansa corrected.
“Always worrying about such meaningless details, that’s why you’re still single.”
“And what’s your excuse?”
“I’m keeping my options open. How can you say you’ve found your favorite meal, when you haven’t tried the entire menu?”
“The entire menu? I didn’t know your strike zone was that wide, from what I’ve seen you tend to lean towards the more… vintage side of the menu, if you know what I mean.”
“Men age like wine, Sansa; the older the better. You should try it sometime, might—”
“Ah-hem.”
The sudden sound of a throat being cleared drew both the sister’s attention, and standing only slightly impatiently was… well, Arya didn’t well know, but she definitely wanted to find out. What with his towering height, that hulking physique, and those steel grey eyes. She noticed, off handedly, some heavy scarring on one side of his face, but was quickly distracted by the frown trying to hide under his thick beard.
Oh yes, Arya likey.
“Mr. Clegane!” Sansa exclaimed, sitting up stiffly and pretending, quite terribly if Arya was being honest, that she was doing some actual work.
“Stark.” He gruffed, eyes flicking between Sansa’s board stiff posture and Arya’s coy expression before a confused weight pulled down his brows (or more accurately his one remaining brow). “If you’re not too “busy”, think you could check your email to see if the client sent over their specifications?”
Sansa’s face whitened, and she scrambled to log back into her computer. Arya, for her part, didn’t pay much attention to her sister’s panic as she was a bit too busy watching the man as he walked past her (not without giving her another confused glance) to stand behind Sansa.
“Yup, they did… half an hour ago.” He said, frowning down at her as he read the timestamp over her shoulder.
Sansa whispered out a despaired “Oh no.” and dropped her face into her hands. It was only then that Arya realized this may actually be a big ass deal and she might have, possibly, been the cause of her sister getting fired. That was cause enough for her to stop fantasizing what it would be like to be fucked six ways from Sunday by this wilding of a man and instead focus on using her talents in the “way of the bullshit” to try and help Sansa out.
Because, as stated before, Arya was a good sister.
“Hey listen man,” Arya started, pulling his attention away from her still despairing sister. “Don’t blame her, I was the one who dropped by unannounced.”
“Are you saying she couldn’t have kept her eye on her computer and talk to you at the same time?” He asked, without missing a beat.
Well shit, he had her there. But still, Arya was nothing if not persistent…
Or obstinate, as her family would say.
“What can I say?” She grinned up at the perpetually frowning man. “I’m a very distracting person.”
“I’ve gathered that.” He responded with a raise of his brow, which Arya decided to take as a compliment.
“I am so sorry Mr. Clegane.” Sansa finally spoke up, looking for all the world like a criminal on trial for a crime she so totally committed. “I-I did get distracted, I should have been paying more attention, I-I promise it won’t happen again, but please don’t—”
“Stark.” He grunted with a roll of his eyes, extinguishing Sansa’s plea like wind to a candle. “Calm the fuck down, I’m not gonna fire you just ‘cause you were talking.” He turned away, glancing one last time at Arya before walking over and opening the door marked S. Clegane. “Just pay more attention next time… and forward me those specifications. Something was fucked with ‘em, gonna have to call the client to get it sorted.”
And with that command, he shut the door behind him.
Sansa deflated back into her chair with a relived sigh, before turning around quickly and making some rapid clicks on her computer, no doubt following his words to the letter as to avoid the managerial bullet she had just dodged.
Arya stared where the man had disappeared to with a face of piqued interest. She turned to her sister, who had her eyes locked to her neglected computer, and asked the question she had been dying to ask since that man first showed up. “Who in the hell was that?”
“That…” Sansa sighed. “Was my boss, Sandor Clegane.”
“Sandor Clegane, hmm?” Arya repeated, testing out the feel of it on her tongue.
“Yes, that’s what I said.”
“Is he single?”
That made Sansa look up at her, her face the textbook example of exasperated disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”
“As a heart attack.”
“Even…” Sansa started, looking over her shoulder to ensure no scarred listeners had made a reappearance, before leaning forward and whispering the rest of her question. “With that face?”
“What about it?”
Sansa looked at her with a single brow raised, apparently not deeming the question worthy of a response.
“What?” Arya shrugged. “It’s not that bad. Like, yeah it’s bad, but not “kick him out of bed in the morning” bad.”
“That’s your bar?”
“What else is there? I mean, did you see that bod? Just imagine a man like that holding you down and having his way with--”
“Okay, okay.” Sansa interrupted, covering her ears with her hands. “I do not need that mental image in my mind, so just stop.”
“Then will you be so kind as to answer my question?” Arya asked impatiently.
“Are you seriously about to try and date my boss?” Sansa asked instead, an edge of pleading lining her question which Arya gracefully ignored.
“Yes I am, now answer the question.”
“You really have to deal with this whole older man thing you got going on, first it was Jaqen then it was—”
“It’s called taste Sansa,” Arya interrupted her before she could recount all of Arya’s conquests. “And you’re stalling.”
“I am not, I just don’t know.” Sansa shrugged unhelpfully. “He doesn’t really talk about his personal life like that. He doesn’t really talk at all, really.”
“But if you had to guess?” Arya pushed.
Sansa rolled her eyes and sighed tiredly. “Then I’d guess no, he doesn’t have a girlfriend.”
“That’s all I needed to hear.” Arya smirked as she straightened out her shirt and made to follow where her target had fled.
Sansa stood up quick and moved to block her sister’s path. “Wait! You can’t go back there.”
“Why not?”
“He’s in the middle of a phone call with a client, and I do not need you barging in and pissing him off anymore then he already might be.”
“Well what am I supposed to do? Just wait out here?”
“Yes! Or, and I’m saying this in the kindest, more sisterly way I can… you give up this dumb idea and just go home.”
Obstinate, thy name is Arya.
With a nonchalant shrug, Arya calmly walked over to the nearest chair and picked up a magazine off the coffee table to read, perfectly content to wait until Mr. Clegane deemed fit to make a reappearance. She heard some mutterings from where she left her sister, but ignored them to instead focus on learning about the top 10 hottest home renovations to do during the summer season. Like a man from the wall, she began her watch, and it wasn’t long before the sounds of clattering keys became the background music for her vigil.
It was a few hours later, after which Arya had gone through about every magazine they had on offer and was seriously considering rereading them, that the door she had been looking at out the corner of her eye finally opened. Out walked the man, the myth, the legend, Sandor Clegane, his mean dog look holding strong as he turned and said something or another to Sansa, Arya wasn’t sure since she was a bit too distracted by taking some sneaky (okay, maybe not all that sneaky) looks at his ass.
He turned back around, making his way for the front door but pausing in his tracks as he spotted her smiling up at him. “You’re still here.”
It was more a statement then a question, but she answered it nonetheless. “Yes I am.” She announced with flair as she stood up and quickly walked into his space, close enough that she had to look up at him to meet his confused stare. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“If you want to schedule a quote just ask your sister.” He grunted, indicating Sansa (who was looking at Arya in subtle horror as she finally realized her sister was totally not kidding) over his shoulder.
“I’m not trying to get a quote or anything like that.” She waved off the suggestion with a laugh.
He looked her over critically. “Then… what do you want?”
“I wanna ask you out.”
Sandor’s confusion turned to full on befuddlement, his eyes rapidly blinking as if that would cause this enigma of a woman to suddenly vanish. Arya, for her part, did not vanish, no matter how many times he blinked, she simply grinned confidently up at him as he slowly regained the ability to speak.
“What?” Sandor finally asked, after loosing a countless number of staring contests.
“I…” Arya started, indicating herself with her hands. “Want to ask you…” She continued, poking him in his chest. “Out.” She finished her slow repetition by pantomiming them walking out the door together.
Unseen by either Sandor or Arya, Sansa dropped her face into her hands and silently prayed to whatever Gods were listening to give her protection from the hell her sister was about to kick up.
Sandor’s needlessly clarifying queries continued. “Like… on a date?”
“Yeah.” Arya said with a nod.
“You want to date… me?” He emphasized the question by gesturing to the mangled side of his face.
The reminder of his scars didn’t even make Arya skip a beat. “Yup.”
Sandor’s look of confusion morphed into one of suspicion, looking her over again like he could sniff out whatever little scheme he had convinced himself she was attempting to rope him into. “Why?”
Arya laughed, gesturing to Sandor’s towering physique. “Uh, have you looked at yourself lately?”
“Yeah I have,” He said as he crossed his arms. “That’s why I’m asking.”
“Well, because you got that whole northern warrior thing going on, with the muscles and the height and the beard. Makes us northern girl go weak in the knees, you know.” She winked conspiratorially.
Sandor slowly turned and looked at Sansa, who rapidly shook her head in denial, before turning back to Arya with a brow raised. “Survey says no on that one.”
“Ignore her.” Arya scoffed. “She was corrupted by the South, she’s only into pretty boys.”
“Hey!” Sansa objected.
Arya ignored her to lean in close and whisper. “She dated Jeffrey Baratheon.”
That knowledge made Sandor bark out a laugh in disbelief before turning to point at Sansa. “You dated that little twerp?”
“I was young!” Sansa defended with a huff. “And stop worrying about my love life, worry about yours!”
“While I enjoy ribbing Sansa for her unfortunate choice of mates as much as anyone.” Arya laughed, reaching up and gently turning his head until he met her eyes again. “She has a point, big man. What do you say; you, me, tonight?”
He looked her over again, his mind running calculation after calculation to try and find some reason beyond the obvious for why this woman was even talking to him let alone asking him out… but he came up empty. Slowly, as if his acceptance was the trigger to a trap, Sandor nodded. “…sure.”
Arya raised a brow. That wasn’t exactly the answer she wanted to hear. “Sure? Well, do you want to or not?”
“That’s what I said.” He grunted.
“No, you said ‘sure’, which makes it sound like you don’t really wanna do it. Now, if that’s the case, I won’t take it personally, but I want to hear it from you clearly; do you want to go on a date, yes or no?” She crossed her arms and looked up at him expectantly.
Sandor seemed stunned by her offense, and rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh, sorry. Yeah, I mean, yes, I do.”
Arya grinned victoriously, ignoring the mumbled “oh no” that sounded from behind Sandor’s back. “Great! Now, time to get the administrative part out of the way.” She said, putting her hand out. “Come on, I know it’s boring but it’s standard protocol.”
Sandor looked from her, to her hand, back to her and she could see his mind running a mile a minute behind his eyes. She kept looking at him, and the panic slowly lining his face, in barely veiled confusion. The slightly awkward silence growing around them, what with his seeming refusal to move, gave Arya enough time to jump to multiple conclusions in her head; maybe he changed his mind, maybe he wasn’t comfortable handing out his phone like that, maybe she was coming on too strong.
But then, like two wires finally connecting, she looked at his hesitation, the panic setting into his face, his refusal to believe she would even want to go on a date with him, and realized something about him.
Sandor’s never been on a date before. This hunk of a man had never asked or been asked out before, and had no idea what the hell the “standard protocol” she was talking bout was.
And she could see, in the still expanding silence of the room, that a pool of something else was beginning to fill his eyes.
Shame. Sandor was ashamed of his ignorance, of his lack of experience when it came to dating woman, or hell, even setting up the opportunity to date a woman. So, what had been standard and common place for Arya, was basically like a foreign language to him and he was floundering in his mind how to not fuck up what must seem like a once in a lifetime opportunity.
Well, Arya wasn’t gonna have any of that; her ‘way of the bullshit’ protects all her family, even her pseudo-not-yet boyfriends.
Glancing behind him subtly, satisfied to see Sansa none the wiser to her boss’s crisis, Arya looked back up at him and smiled. “Oh, I get it. Playing hard to get, are ya?”
His brow dropped in confusion, but Arya only winked at him and pulled out her phone. “Oh, alright.” She said, handing it to him with a humored sigh. “I’ll give you my phone first.”
Sandor glanced from her phone to her and she could see the moment he figured out what she wanted him to do, a weight seeming to lift off his broad shoulders as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone in return. “Uh… you got me.” He chuckled weakly. “Don’t wanna be too easy of a chase.”
“Fair.” She shrugged, swapping phones with him. “Oh, when you put your name in my phone, don’t write something dumb, would ya?” She asked, hinting to him again what he should be doing.
“Not creative enough for that anyway.” He muttered, slowly typing away on her phone, that looked puny in his hand, with one finger.
“And don’t look at my pictures,” She said slyly, looking up to meet his confused look. “You’re gonna have to wait to see me like that, big boy. Though I might have to extradite the process, if you’re extra good tonight.” She marked the suggestion with a wiggle of her brow, and was satisfied to see his eyes widen in realization before they not so subtly looked her over again, though this time she could tell he was focusing a bit more on her ‘assets’.
“I didn’t need to hear any of that.” Sansa whined from her desk.
“It’s a perfectly normal part of a healthy relationship.” Arya defended, leaning around Sandor to meet Sansa’s cringing gaze.
“That doesn’t mean I need to hear about my sister’s nude collection!”
“Well excuse me for being confident in my—”
“Here.” Sandor interrupted, thrusting her phone back in her face to stop their bickering.
“Why thank you, sir.” Arya accepted with exaggerated grace, looking over the info and nodding in approval before focusing on doing the same on his phone.
Compared to her new paramour, Arya’s thumbs flew across the screen, typing out her name and number quicker then Sandor thought was even possible. Before he knew it, his phone was once again in his hand, the woman who had absolutely demolished his equilibrium now suddenly having a name he could attach to her, admittedly, tantalizing visage.
“Arya Stark?” He read out loud, which made both Stark sisters realize something at the same time.
“Oh my gods,” Sansa exclaimed dramatically. “You never even told him your name!”
“It slipped my mind!” Arya defended.
“How do you forget to give the person you are trying to ask out your name?”
“That’s—”
“Why did you put black hearts around your name?” Sandor asked, not entertaining the sisterly squabble while he frowned down at his phone.
“I thought you’d appreciate them more then red ones.” Arya explained nonchalantly.
Sandor looked at her, opened his mouth to say something, before closing it with a sigh and putting his phone back in his pocket. “Well, uh, I gotta get going, need to look over a clients house for a quote.”
“Okay, I’ll text you later and we can hammer out the details.” Arya smiled, once again explaining in as subtle a way as she could the etiquette when it comes to dating.
“Uh, yeah, sounds good… thanks.” Sandor muttered that last part out quietly, keeping his gratitude just between the two of them, before making his way towards the entry door. He opened it, before turning back and regarding Arya one last time. She grinned and waved at him, which Sandor awkwardly returned (the wave, not the grin) before walking out the door as quick as he could.
“Wow.” Sansa said as the door closing echoed around the room. “You actually are going to date my boss. I’m not sure what it was I did to deserve this revenge, but allow me to apologize anyway.”
“You know,” Arya said, ignoring her sister. “I think I saw the beginning of love in his eyes.”
“He honestly just looked confused.”
Arya turned and shrugged. “Is that not the first step towards love?”
“… I wanna argue but honestly I don’t know where to even begin.”
“Unfortunately, dear sister, I don’t have time for debate right now. I got a hot date to prepare for.” Arya grinned, turning on her heels and making her way towards the door.
“Wait!” Sansa said, her voice raised loud enough to stop her sister in her tracks.
Arya turned, meeting Sansa’s pleading eyes with an exasperated raised brow. “What?”
“Please,” Sansa started, bringing her hands together in a literal begging motion. “Whatever you do, don’t get me fired.”
“I’m not that bad in bed!” Arya exclaimed, before a sultry smirk lit up her face. “Hell, depending on how things go, you might just get a raise.”
Arya laughed excitedly at the thought, before quickly leaving out the door and letting it close behind her.
Sansa stared at the spot where her sister had been, a carefree whistle echoing down the hall in her wake. “I don’t know her…” She mumbled to herself, nodding before turning back to her computer. “Yup, that’s the story I’m gonna go with. If she pisses him off, I’m just gonna tell him I don’t know her.” It wasn’t long before she deflated with a whine and prayed to whatever gods were listening. “Please don’t let her piss him off, I need this job.”