Work Text:
Mistake mistake mistake mistake-
The word rings through her head as she digs under the bed for her shoe, fingers finally catching the heel and pulling it out. She stuffs the shoe into her already full arms and slowly gets off her knees. At one point, she almost overbalances, but manages to get upright without making a sound and she tries not to look at the very naked man lying on his stomach on the bed, one arm above his head and the other slung out into the space she had just abandoned.
She tiptoes to his door, manages to turn the knob without dropping her shoes or purse or bra, and slips out of the room. She freezes just outside the door when she sees that the living room is littered in sleeping bodies - the large man, Tormund, is on the floor snoring loudly, others sprawled next to him or on the couch and chair. The party must have kept going into the early morning hours while she-
Nope!
Don't think about it!
Mistake!
Picking her way carefully over bodies, she's almost to the door when she hears a noise and turns to see Sam in the kitchen with a pan on the stove and what looks like the makings of some sort of breakfast. He hasn't seen her yet and she backs up slowly until she gets to the door and then, as quickly as she can, she tugs it open and darts out and she doesn't even care when it slams shut behind her.
This is all his fault, she thinks as she makes her way down the hall to her own apartment. Or the alcohol. Definitely the alcohol. Maybe Randa? Can she blame Randa for this? Probably not, but she's going to try anyway.
It was Randa who persuaded her to go to their New Years party after Sam had invited her in mid-December, cheerfully handing her a flyer at the apartment mailboxes. Why did she agree? In mid-December, she had been mid-furious that, once again, their Christmas decorations far outmatched her own. And, once again, they were so tacky. Hers were elegant! Tasteful! And yet the kids in the building all talked about their apartment.
(Should she be this competitive over holiday décor? Probably not, but she's in no mood for self reflection right now.)
And him. Ever since Halloween, he's just been popping up everywhere. Sam's mysterious, night-working roommate with the infuriating smile (and the large hands and the talented mouth and – nope! Don't think about it! Mistake!)
Of course, mystery roommate turned out to be an EMT. How noble. And Jon. What a dumb name. Jon Snow. Stupid. She hates it. She hates his easy smile and she definitely hates how every time he sees her now, he says hi and when she ignores him, he calls after her “as you wish”, which only brings back memories of him in that costume and she knows that's why he's doing it and-
She needs to calm down. Take a shower. Wash the night off her. Maybe text... not Randa. She needs someone else. Jeyne? Beth?
She turns the hot water as high as possible to try and burn last night off of her but it doesn't really work. She really, really wants to blame alcohol for this, but she's surprisingly awake and alert (and with a very clear memory) for how drunk she wishes she had been last night. There's no hangover, she's mildly thirsty at best and that probably has less to do with alcohol and more to do with-
Nope!
After her shower, she puts on her comfiest pajamas and paces her apartment, debating who to call for advice. She needs someone to talk about this rationally with, because if it wasn't alcohol, then... Sansa doesn't do one night stands, but she certainly isn't looking for a relationship right now, especially not with hot EMT next door and his smug-
There's a knock on the door and she freezes halfway through her route from living room to kitchen and back, and she stares at the front door until a second knock shakes her out of it. She moves to the door and looks through the peephole and-
“Shit,” she whispers to herself and backs violently away from the door. “Shit, shit, shit...”
“I can hear you,” his voice echoes through the (stupidly thin) wood of the door and she wants to die. “Sam saw you leave this morning, said you snuck out. Didn't even say goodbye.”
Oh, he's infuriating.
“Normal people would take that as a hint!” she tells the door, a sort of panic swirling through her because it had been a mistake. Right?
There's a moment of silence and then she hears “as you wish” and it doesn't make her as annoyed as it usually does because he sounds almost... sad? Something twists low in her stomach as she hears his footsteps start to recede down the hallway and...
Oh.
Oh no.
She lurches forward and flings open the door and-