goddammit girl okay here we go:
It was the only word to express the way that Sansa felt at the moment. Her convertible had broken down, which unfortunately included the button to put the top up. And the thunder rumbling in the distance did not give her a good feeling.
Seconds later, it began to rain.
Sansa considered calling her roommates or her parents, but both would ask about the dark bruise on her cheek. She was out of her pocket concealer, and there was no Sephora nearby.
Continuing to curse under her breath, she dialed the number of the one man that might not ask questions: the CFO of her abusive boyfriend’s company, who she had been casually falling into bed with the past few months. The sex was great, but the way he stared at her after always freaked her out. As if she really meant something to him.
But Sansa Stark knew that she didn’t mean much to anyone.
Shaking away that thought (though, surely, her parents would’ve known about Joffrey if they truly loved her), she waited for him to pick up.
It only took one ring. “Sansa,” he breathed over the line, and she shivered.
“Petyr,” she corrected, “I don’t suppose you could… I mean, I wondered if-”
He interrupted her. “Sansa, just tell me.”
“My car broke down and it’s raining - please can you come and pick me up?”
There was a moment of silence, then: “Why did you call me, not, well-”
‘Anyone else,’ she finished in her mind. “I’m coming back from Joffrey’s,” she admitted out loud.
A sharp inhale. He understood. “Text me where you are. I’m leaving now.”
He arrived within fifteen minutes of ending the call, offering her a towel as she climbed into his car. “I’ve called the towing company to retrieve your car. They should be here in minutes. Sansa, where-”
Then he caught sight of her face.
His whole body tensed, knuckles turning white on the steering wheel before releasing and cradling her jaw. When he saw the full extent of the damage, he hissed. “I didn’t know,” he began, sounding caught off guard for the first time since she met him. She could only stare at him with wide eyes. “I didn’t know that he was physically…” he trailed off. “How long?” He demanded.
“Months,” she said quietly. She didn’t even have the wherewithal to lie anymore.
He stared at her a moment longer before turning to put the car in gear, mumbling under his breath.
Sansa waited a few minutes before speaking. “Can you take me-”
“We’re going to my apartment,” he told her, voice broking no exceptions. “We need to talk.”
They exchanged no more words as they drove. Once they were on the outskirts of the financial district, he turned into an underground garage; she assumed that the gorgeous building towering above them housed his apartment. He led her to the elevator and up to the penthouse, where he directed her to a bathroom to freshen up. “I’ll bring you a change of clothes. Do you want anything to drink? Coffee? Tea?”
“Coffee please,” she requested, still feeling dramatically out of place. He nodded, slipping out and returning with a full set of women’s clothes. They fit her decently; too well, she thought, and she would have made a run for it.
By the time she was ready, he was already sitting on the couch with both of their coffees. Hers had the perfect amount of cream and sugar, but when she glanced up, he just shrugged, not bothering to explain himself.
That should have been her first warning.
“Why am I here?” She said finally.
He raised an eyebrow. “You called me, sweetling.”
She sighed, exasperated. “Petyr, no games. Tell me the truth.”
He seemed to evaluate her for a moment before nodding. “I meant to wait a little longer, for you to come to me in earnest,” he began, looking uncertain. She tried not to let it get to her; she knew Littlefinger was very capable of faking any emotion needed. “I’ve always admired you, Sansa, how you survive in the lion’s den. But they think you are a dove. A soft little bird who sings the songs that it’s taught. You’re not, though, are you?” He paused. “You are stronger than even I gave you credit. I thought you might… need help.”
Sansa looked at him with suspicion. “Help with what?”
He smirked at her. “The Lannisters, of course.”
He only moved closer to her, taking her hands in his. “I don’t want them around, same as you. Let me help you get rid of them.”
Sansa scoffed. “You work for them.”
“Then why have I not told them that you’re being unfaithful to Joffrey?”
“You don’t want to implicate yourself!”
He reached out to hold her face in his hands for the second time, and she was too shocked at his audacity to push him away. “Or maybe I want you.”
Sansa’s breath hitched. Petyr was not an unattractive man, both in mind and body. The idea that he would help her with the Lannisters simply for her was as desirable as it was ludicrous. He smirked again, noticing her reaction.
Taking advantage of her state of confusion, he leaned in and kissed her softly. “What’s in it for you, really?” She asked, pulling away, but just barely. He wouldn’t let her go too far.
“Besides you?” He murmured against her mouth. “Chaos. Power. A chance to see them all on their knees. That, and your kisses, are all that I desire.”
Now, that sounded more like Petyr Baelish.
She let him kiss her in earnest, tongue slipping between her teeth and coaxing hers into play. They had slept together, of course, but never had she wanted him so badly as this moment.
Their kisses grew more relaxed and slow over time, before a thought occurred to Sansa. “How?”
“How will we hurt them? We can’t fight them,” she clarified.
He smiled then, slow and wide like a serpent. “We aren’t going to fight them. Oh no, sweetling, we’re going to fuck them.”
No sooner had he gotten the words out that Sansa leaned forward, initiating a kiss for the first time.
He might be a crooked, dangerous man, but his words were far too sweet to resist.
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