Touching Happiness
My SanSan Secret Santa gift for @gracespent! Thank you for such a good prompt and I hope you enjoy your gift!
Rated T for language.
When Sansa Stark found something funny and she was around strangers or in large groups of people, her laughter was demure and quiet. Sandor had noted that early on in their acquaintance. It was, he found out, an entirely different thing when she was around close friends and family. She laughed with her entire self then. It always drew Sandor in, the sound of her laughter, how her head would tip back and her eyes would close and her face just lit up with humor. Tonight, Theon was the comedian, even though Sandor rarely found his lewd jokes funny. Sansa normally scolded the boy, but tonight she’d had two glasses of wine at the Christmas party and there was no scolding. Only laughter. He was sat next to her and each and every time Theon said something even remotely funny, she would laugh and each time she laughed, her hand would reach out and grab his bicep. He didn’t understand why, but he wasn’t about to pull away from her touch. Not when it was something he craved like a drug.
~
Sandor Clegane wasn’t a gentleman. That much Sansa figured out during their first conversation all those years ago. He was blunt and overly truthful and often times crass. When it came to social graces, he thought very little of them. But Sansa realized over time it was a defense mechanism to keep people at arm’s length, and that he was actually a very gentle hearted person. Even though he criticized gallantry, he was the first to hold open a door for her. When she wore heels and had to walk the stairs at work, he was quick to offer her his arm for balance. If they were ever anywhere that they sat together, he always pulled her chair out and waited for her to sit before he did. Like tonight. Stark and Baratheon Corporation had rented out the entire restaurant and had a live band playing. When they were sat at their table, Sandor had pulled out her chair and once she sat, his fingers brushed along the skin exposed by her backless gown when he removed his hand from the back of the chair. Now, even an hour later and having eaten their meal, she could still feel the phantom warmth of his skin against hers.
~
The dress was distracting. Almost as much as her laughter and the lingering touch of her hand on his arm. It was a deep red and velvet. From the front it was nothing overly seductive, even if it was form fitting. It had a high neck, elbow length sleeves, and a tied off sash around her waist, emphasizing the swell of her hips. But when she turned around, the dress split into a deep V that left the majority of her back exposed. Her skin was pale, dotted with a few freckles, and Sandor couldn’t help but wonder what sort of bra she could possibly be wearing. If she was wearing one at all. He hadn’t exactly meant to brush along her skin, but now his fingers tingled with the want to touch more. Once dinner was finished and the band started playing, Sandor excused himself to use the restroom. He didn’t exactly need the support of the back of her chair to stand, but he held on to it anyway and when he walked away, he couldn’t stop himself from flattening his palm between her shoulder blades on the pretense of having to step closer to her back to allow someone to pass behind him. His hand burned all the way to the bathroom. There was no way he truly felt her relax into his touch. Women like Sansa Stark didn’t seek out the touch of men like Sandor Clegane.
~
Theon asked her to dance first, so she followed him onto the dance floor. She allowed him only one song and then made her way back to their now empty table. Empty except for Sandor. When she sat back down and looked at him, she couldn’t help but smile. His tie was crooked.
“Let me help you.” She said, leaning into him and adjusting the knot at his throat. Her knuckles brushed against his neck, the stubble their scratching her skin. Once she was done, she smoothed the silky black fabric down his chest. He was warm, like he had some internal heat source, and his chest was solid beneath her hand. Swallowing, realizing she was inappropriately lingering, she pulled her hand away and looked up at him. He was staring at her intently, and his jaw was clenched.
“There.” She managed to smile. “All fixed up.”
Sandor cleared his throat, jaw relaxing as he nodded. His hand came up and followed the same path hers had even though the tie was laying perfectly. It gave her enough confidence to think maybe she was wrong. Maybe he enjoyed her touch as much as she did his.
~
Sansa danced with several people. She danced with her brother Robb and her cousin Jon. She danced with Gendry Baratheon and Lothor Brune. She danced with her uncle Benjen and Tommen Baratheon. And she danced with Theon. Three times. There was nothing about Greyjoy that had ever made Sandor jealous. He came from nearly as fucked up a family as Sandor, spent most of his youth in existential crises, and had gotten himself pretty messed up by that Bolton dude. But the more Sansa danced with him, the more she laughed at his shitty jokes, the more that green beast grew inside him. It was a shitty feeling and he didn’t like it.
“You gonna ask her to dance, or just glare at her when someone else does?” Arya asked him. She wasn’t even supposed to be sitting at their table. Hells, she didn’t even work for Stark and Baratheon. But wherever Gendry went, Arya went as well so it was expected if even Sandor was annoyed by it.
“I don’t dance.” He took a drink of his water and looked away from where Sansa was dancing with Theon again.
“You could, though. And it’s obvious you want to.” Arya needled. “Just ask her already.”
“Why does it matter?” Sandor asked. “She seems pretty happy to be dancing with Greyjoy anyway.”
Arya snorted and rolled her eyes. “Because their friends. Believe me, Hound, she doesn’t go out of her way to touch Theon the way she does you. Actually, come to think of it, she doesn’t like touching anyone or anyone touching her. Except you.”
With that, the little wolf bitch scampered off leaving him to stew over what she just said.
~
With her feet starting to ache, Sansa gladly dropped back into her seat next to Sandor. She had been hoping all night that he would ask her to dance, just for a reason to touch him, but she should have known he wouldn’t. He didn’t quite strike her as the dancing type and even if he was, there was nothing to say he would ask her of all people. Letting out a heavy breath, she leaned forward and grabbed a water glass and drained half of it before sitting it back on the table.
“Thirsty?” Sandor asked with an amused lilt to his voice.
“I was.” She said primly with a smile.
“Yeah, I could tell. Seeing as you drank most of my water.”
“Oh.” Sansa glanced back at the glass and realized it hadn’t been the one served to her. “Oops. Sorry.”
“Forget about it.” He waved her off, but shifted in his seat so he was facing her. Under the table their legs brushed. She felt her face grow hot when he didn’t move away and she didn’t either. Just then the current song ended and the DJ switched to a new one. Sansa smiled when she heard the opening cords. It was one of her favorite songs.
“What?” Sandor asked when he saw her smile.
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “I just love this song.”
Sandor looked away, and she watched as he swallowed hard and then lick his lips. He glanced at the dance floor and then back at her and Sansa felt her pulse kick up in anticipation.
“Aye.” He finally said with a heavy sigh. “Suppose it’s not such a bad one.”
Sansa felt her smile freeze oddly on her face as disappointment washed over her, heart sinking.
~
Disappointment was evident on her face when he hadn’t asked her to dance when there was a clear opening for him to have done so. He hadn’t thought…for fucks sake she was Sansa Stark. Why in the bloody hells would she want to dance with the likes of him. Still, she must have wanted to.
“I’m no good at it.” He rasped, then cleared his throat and looked at her. She cocked her head in confusion, brow lifting in question. “Dancing. But, if you want…”
A smile split across her face, one that was so joyous it made his heart beat a little faster. It wasn’t a false smile, or one of pretense, it was real and happy. She was happy to dance with him.
Standing first, Sandor held out his hand and Sansa easily placed hers in it. Leading her to the crowded dancefloor he turned to face her awkwardly. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to dance, because he did contrary to what many people thought. He just hadn’t done it in quite some time and never with someone he wanted as much as Sansa. She smiled at him easily, her free hand coming up to press gently to his chest, then sliding up to rest on his shoulder. Following in step, Sandor placed his hand just below her shoulder blades, feeling the warmth of her bare skin shift across the muscle and bones as she adjusted into his hold.
Normally he would watch his feet when he danced. Normally he could give fuck all about the woman he danced with. Now, with her so close, hand in his and fingers brushing along the nape of his neck, Sandor couldn’t look away from her as they moved along with the other couples. He kept his head dipped; eyes locked on hers. Sansa didn’t seem inclined to look away from him either, which was warming in itself. Lost in those blue depths, he didn’t realize they were getting closer until he felt her chest brush against his and it dawned on him that their hands were now resting over his chest over his heart.
Sandor could at times be a bit dense when it came to women, but he knew for certain in that moment there was something happening between them. Something that had been building since the moment they’d met. It wasn’t some one-sided infatuation or fleeting lust. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it felt…deep. Real.
Flattening the hand on her back, Sandor smoothed his fingers against her skin. Lightening his touch, he drew his finger upwards, tracing the line of her spine upwards. Sansa’s lashes fluttered, lips parting on a soft gasp. His jaw clenched against a surge of desire as he cupped the back of her neck. He could feel the uptick of her breathing in the rise and fall of her chest against his, and his followed suit. Her eyes softened, lips curling just slightly as her own fingers tripped over the collar of his shirt and kneaded gently against his neck.
“Sandor.” She whispered his name and it punched him in the gut with want.
The song must have ended, even if he hadn’t really been listening, because all of the sudden an upbeat and overly festive Christmas song came on and it should have broken the spell of whatever was going on between them. Only, it didn’t.
~
“Tomorrow is Christmas Eve.” Sansa said, and Sandor blinked. They were still in the pose of a slow dance though the song playing wasn’t slow at all. They weren’t really moving so much anymore anyway.
“Aye.” He agreed. “So it is.”
“What do you do on Christmas Eve, Sandor?”
His eyes slid away from her, and then came back. His thumb rubbed back and forth along her back.
“Nothing. Feed Stranger and binge watch Star Wars.”
“My family doesn’t get together on Christmas Eve. Only on Christmas Day.” She hedged a moment, biting her lip. “You know, I’ve never seen all the Star Wars movies.”
“No?” he questioned, seeming to catch on a little judging by the color rising into his unburnt cheek.
“No.” she smiled, threading her fingers into the back of his hair. “I would like to, though.”
“I don’t have anything to cook for any sort of Christmas dinner, but if you want to come over tomorrow, you can watch them with me.”
“Do you like stew?” she asked. “I’ve got all the makings of it and I can cook up a pretty good stew, if I do say so myself.”
“You want to make me stew?” he asked, voice tinged with disbelief.
“Yes.” She said simply, hand sliding around from the back of his neck to graze lightly against his ruined jawline. “I want, well, I want a lot of things with you, Sandor. If you want them too.”
“Like what?” he asked, voice gruff and quiet.
“A kiss would be a good start, I think.” She offered with a smile, which widened when she noticed him swallow hard. He wet his bottom lip, leaning down towards her. He hesitated right before they met, his breath warming her mouth. There was a question in the pause and Sansa answered it by rising up on her toes and pressing her lips to his. His chest hitched on a stuttered breath and it made Sansa’s stomach swoop. She let go of his hand and wrapped both arms around his neck, fingers sliding under his hair and brushing against the nape of his neck. Sandor responded by clutching at her hips, drawing her closer, and opening his mouth to hers.
It had been so long, so much time spent wanting and thinking it would never happen. So many excuses to be around him, to be near him and sneak in as many touches as she could to appease herself. And this? This kiss, this holding each other in the middle of the dancefloor while cheesy pop renditions of Christmas music played? It was everything she’d ever wanted and thought it would be.
With Christmas being so happy, Sansa couldn’t wait to see what the new year would bring, with Sandor by her side.
