Title: A Man and a Woman
Pairing: Sandor Clegane/ Fem!reader
Summary: Sandor and you end up at a tavern and have a nice moment
A/n: i have a longer sandor fic but im not even close to done with it but here is a sweet little piece i had rattling around. Enjoy!
Days and nights in the forest wore down the body. You could say that now, having lived the last few weeks traveling with no real destination in sight. Just farther than yesterday and farther than the day before. You and Sandor usually avoided villages, towns, any place really with people that might recognize the infamous Hound. Ones that were overrun by so called Lanniseter Knights, ready to take him in for some type of reward. While you would be cast away, killed or worse.
The town you ended up in luckily held a decent sized tavern. It was shabby and cast a dark shadow as the sun was halfway set. The name of the tavern painted atop of the door now faded away from the years it's been alive. Your nose twitched at the smell of something good cooking. You were surprised Sandor offered to stop and eat here. He was conservative about money and being discovered by others. He did not fear a fight, just did not want the hassle. But today was the third day either of you had a proper meal. It was more than needed for the both of you to have a proper rest. You entered the tavern, half filled with people and their chatter. You both sat across from one another, the owner plump and hairy taking your orders.
“Wine,” Sandor says as the weight of his armour clanking around, “Lots of it.”
The owner nods his head, scampering off to fulfill Sandor's request. He returns, setting a big bottle and two glasses atop of the table. Sandor's hand wraps around the neck of the bottle, bringing it to his mouth. The cork that separates him from his liquid is quickly in his mouth. He bites it using the strength of his teeth to tear it away, spitting the cork to the side, his lips on the opening, greedily guzzling the sweet wine. You watched it all the time, leaving you mesmerized. He was just so unapologetically him and he did what he wanted how he wanted. You admire that. You wish you had that courage to live. Hell, you couldn't even leave the red keep during Stannies Siege. Sandor was the one to grab your hand and flee.
“The hell you lookin at?” Sandor interrupts your thoughts with his brash voice.
Your face heats up against his stare, you try not to look at his wet lips. You avert his gaze, “You're not planning on getting drunk are you?”
He smirks, “not enough bottles in here to get me pissed.”
You roll your eyes at his jest, your eyes glancing about the space before you. Most of the people here are in their own words. Some cast glances at the tower that is your companion but other than that no one paid you any mind. The owner returned with hot bowls of stew, placed them down carefully.
“Anything else for you and your wife, ser.” He says to Sandor
Sandor grimaces at the word ‘Ser’, but doesn't comment as he waves the man away without a sound. He digs in eagerly, the meal giving him the much needed energy. But it's only seconds before he pauses looking up at you. You hadn't touched your food, which confused him. He knew for sure you were just as hungry as he was.
“What's wrong?” He asks, his eyes trailing you.
Your cheeks were flushed, you were avoiding his eyes, and fiddling with your fingers. He had seen all three of these physical reactions from you, grown to recognize your habits and quirks but not all three at once.
“It's nothing.” You try to dismiss, picking up your spoon swirling the stew around.
“You’re not eating.” he states simply. His thoughts trying to fill in whatever it is you are not saying. Was there something wrong with the food? Were you getting sick? Did he miss a comment made by some stranger? Did someone look at you wrong?
“The man,” your fingers tugging at one another, “he-he called me your wife…”
Sandor stills, realizing that the man did refer to you as that. And he hadn't batted an eye. It seemed to be the most normal thing to him.
“He did. Does that bother you?”
“No,” You say quickly, eyes lifting up to meet his, “I mean…no. Not at all.” You could feel your face heating up even more at the admission.
A surge of pride swelled in Sandor's chest. That and hope. Something he never really allows himself to feel. In a lot of ways, the two of you were married. You travelled together, took care of one another. He couldn't imagine anyone else dealing with him, He couldn't imagine wanting anyone else as a companion.
You continue, “I was just surprised. I mean…I understand the confusion. You are a man and I am a woman.”
He hums, enjoying your senseless babbling, “How long did it take you to figure that out?”
You scoff, fighting a smile. Sandor finds himself fighting one too. He nods toward your untouched stew, picking up his own spoon.
“Eat.” He says gently.
You do, digging in with enthusiasm. The two of you eat, the ambience of the tavern filling the comfortable silence around you. Unbeknownst that both of you were dreaming of the same dream that didn't seem too far away now.
