He was incredibly fond of holiday lights, though he would never admit it.
He'd insisted on taking her out-- not because of the holiday, but because Petyr was never one to pass up something that could be measured in coin. While Sansa dressed in a fairly modest dorm room in clothes and jewelry he'd chosen as gifts, he arrived in his vintage Aston Martin to collect her; he'd arranged a lavish dinner at only the most exclusive locale, sumptuous imported wine and desserts, only the most thoughtful and expensive of gifts. She was his Christmas bauble however, an ornament, as lavish a gift as he could personally design and display. She could never repay him, which is, of course, what he wanted. Having her in his debt, in need of him, was surely the gift he wanted most of all.
And it had worked. She did need him. In so many more ways than one.
"I want to take you somewhere after," he murmured, looking at her over the candlelit table. The cream and caramelized sugar from her creme brulee tasted thick and decadent and too rich on her tongue suddenly. Something about it made Sansa's heart quicken, made her very core begin to ache.
They drove a short while and his hand settled on her thigh, familiar and warm, always gentler than she'd ever expect.
A few towns over there was a little park with a Christmas light display throughout it. She was surprised when he'd stopped there, and more so when he paused for some moments without a sound.
"I used to come here as a boy." He didn't need to finish-- 'with your mother' was a ghost that seemed to haunt them too often.
He wrapped her in his coat and slid an arm about her, and together, (as always,) they walked along the path. The lights truly gave a magical feeling; a true, warm opulence the rest of the evening lacked. It was when she turned to thank him she unexpectedly got her true gift-- Petyr looked content. His grey-green eyes that always glittered instead held the light, and something that could have been a smile seemed to be hiding at the corner of his mouth. Despite the grey that peppered his hair, Sansa could imagine him suddenly as a boy, excited for Christmas, hopeful for the future, one who might sing songs.
The mask had slipped away.
She moved to stand before him, capturing his gaze for once, casting a shadow over him as she blocked the display of Christmas lights.
Their breath tangled, rose up as clouds of Northern ice that made Sansa think of home and they disappeared just as suddenly.
Petyr's careful fingers skimmed her hips delicately, like she was a fragile treasure.
"Sweetling," he breathed, and it disappeared into the heavens like a prayer.
This time she kissed him in the snow, her lips soft against his. His neatly trimmed facial hair rubbed her skin, his hands tightened on her hips possessively. For safe keeping, Sansa thought, but she didn't feel cold at all anymore-- the heat of him all but burned her skin, her core, her heart...and might still.
Perhaps it had been his plan all along, perhaps he'd carefully pretended to let the mask fall. Perhaps it was a holiday miracle.
Perhaps it was the Christmas lights.
"Happy Christmas," he murmured against her lips, and in this light, Sansa could believe he meant it.
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Happy holidays and Merry Christmas to @petyrsbaelish from your Secret Santa! I really hope you enjoy it!
