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Sansa grunted as she hit the mat, letting herself lie there for a few moments.
"You're sloppy," her watcher's voice rasped. "This lack of focus will get you killed, little bird."
She gave another grunt in response, pushing herself to her feet and shuffling over to the bench. Sitting down heavily on the old wood, she grabbed her water bottle and took a long drink from it. "Sorry, Sandor; got home late from patrol last night and didn't get the chance to sleep. Had to study for my science test tomorrow, too."
Sandor hummed, his back to her as he fixed his hand wrappings.
Sansa turned her focus from the broad back of her watcher to the ugly blue of the gym mat. Letting herself drift off for a few seconds, she tried to come up with a way to go about asking if she could have the night off for a date. She was thinking so intently that she didn't even notice Sandor until it was too late.
He grabbed her off the bench, spinning on his heels and tossing her to the ground. Instinct kicked in, causing Sansa to land in a crouch. She narrowed her eyes at him before rushing him, darting around his large frame and then climbing up his broad back. Before she had a chance to go for the staking motion, he'd taken hold of her forearms and slammed her back down on the mat.
"Vampires don't give breaks."
"You're the worst," Sansa muttered, pushing herself to her feet again.
"If you'd like, I can come with on your patrol tonight. Quiz you on your science and such."
She tried not to chuckle at the large man's offer. For all that he kept up with his angry facade most of the time, around her he never quite managed it.
"No, thank you," she said before tilting her head. There was no time like the present. "Actually, I was wondering if I could maybe have the evening off?" After several long seconds of silence from Sandor, she continued. "I mean, I've been going strong now for a month, and this kid asked me to go out on a date with him tonight; and, well, I'd really like to have the chance to have just a normal evening, you know?"
"You're the vampire slayer, little bird; nothing about you is normal," he growled.
Sansa walked across the mat, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Please," she murmured, knowing that he would never tell her no now.
He tore away from her, pacing across the floor angrily. "Fine! I'll do the patrol on my own! And what handsome little cunt is worth shirking your destiny?"
Sansa puffed up at that, insulted by his words and his tone. After working with him for a year, she really should have grown used to his mood swings; something about them, though, never failed to raise her own hackles.
"That isn't any of your business!" She shouted over the ring of the bell, grabbing her empty water bottle and tossing it violently into her duffle bag. "But, for your information, I have a date Joffrey Baratheon!"
In her single-minded focus to get out of the training room and back to class, she completely missed her watcher freeze.
"Why are you going out with that idiot?" Arya asked, a familiar note of disdain in her voice. "He's so stupid and vapid."
"Arya," Sansa snapped, not turning to look at where her sister had collapsed onto Sansa's bed.
"I'm just pointing out the obvious," Arya said, tossing a stress ball up and hitting the ceiling, catching it as it bounced back down.
"He's not stupid, and he's not vapid. In fact, he's very kind and handsome."
Arya pushed herself up, giving her sister a raised eyebrow. "Those aren't mutually exclusive."
"Why don't you go and bother Robb, hmm?" Sansa asked, standing from her vanity and moving to her closet. "Either that or help me pick out a dress."
Arya groaned, scampering off the bed and to the door. She paused in the doorway, turning back to Sansa one last time before leaving. "You know you can count on Sandor, right? You know, he can come and get you if it all goes south?"
Images of Sandor popped into Sansa's mind. Shaking her head to clear the thoughts, she gave Arya a confident smile. "Of course."
Arya watched her sister for a few more seconds before giving a satisfied nod, leaving Sansa to her final preparations.
"That's a very nice dress," Joffrey said before narrowing his eyes. "Though, it's kind of low cut there in the front; makes you look cheap."
Sansa tugged on her cardigan, crossing it across her chest with a huff. She loved this dress; it was her staple little black dress, and she'd always gotten compliments on it before.
"Thank you," she murmured, not allowing herself to forget her manners, even when Joffrey was being so rude. Instead, she turned her focus to the menu. "Have you been here before?" She asked.
"Oh, of course. This is my usual table. I've grown rather accustomed to classier dining; I'm sure that after we've been together for a while you'll get used to it."
Sansa narrowed her eyes at the menu, not allowing him to see her frustration. He was incredibly presumptuous.
"And what would you recommend here?" She continued, ignoring his comment.
"Oh, anything really. The seafood is especially good. I imagine that you're not very used to anything other than red meat. I know that you're brothers tend to lean more towards... a savage side. Red meat only, isn't that right?"
Sansa shifted in her seat, and looked towards where the waitress was coming. She gave her a warm smile, listening politely to her introduction before asking quietly for a Diet Coke.
"I'll take a Pepsi," Joffrey said, not even making eye contact with the woman.
"I'm sorry, we only carry Coke products, sir."
Joffrey turned slowly to look at the waitress, narrowing his eyes and raising an eyebrow angrily. "Well, then why don't you go and get me one, hmm? I'll make sure to make the tip worthwhile."
The waitress flicked her eyes to Sansa, who looked at Joffrey with angry eyes. "Why not have a water, Joffrey?" She asked, trying to lead him politely to a different choice.
Joffrey turned to her, his eyes blazing with furious anger, before shifting it to a contrite expression. "Of course, let's do that."
The waitress gave Sansa an appreciative nod, and then scurried off.
Sansa was surprised to feel Joffrey grip her wrist tightly. "Don't ever do that again, woman," he hissed.
"Let's change the subject, hmm?" She said, wrenching her wrist from his hand.
"Alright; why do you spend so much time with that creepy librarian?" Joffrey asked, his words dripping from his lips like venom. "He's such an ugly bastard; I can't imagine that there's a single soul on this planet who gives a fuck about that stupid cur."
Sansa pushed herself to her feet. He'd finally crossed the line; she had been able to mostly ignore the insulting remarks about her, and while the comments about her brothers had hurt, she'd tried to focus on how handsome Joffery looked in the candle light of the restaurant. Listening to him insult Sandor, though - there was no recovering from that.
"God, you're like a cockroach," Sansa hissed, giving him a furious glare. "So very hateful! And while Sandor might not be handsome, he's worth a billion more of you! And I care about him; he's taught me skills that I will always need, and that matters more than any pretty face!" She continued. She paused for a second, before turning to the table behind her and grabbing a glass of wine someone hadn't finished, turning on her heels, she threw it in his face. She felt a sick pleasure as she watched the red of the wine soak into his stupid silk shirt, before snatching up her purse and getting as quickly out of the restaurant as possible.
As she swung the door open, she heard Joffrey toss one final insult at her. "You're going to regret that, you stupid fucking cunt!"
Sansa paused, turning to look at him one last time. "Try me."
It took Sansa ten minutes to reach the graveyard, kicking her shoes off a block from the restaurant and running to the place that she knew he would be. Kingsland Bay was a very old city, and the cemetery spread across nearly 150 acres.
She could see his hulking figure near some of the smaller graves. He was focused rather intently on one of the graves, so intensely that he didn't notice a group of three figures creeping up on him.
"Sandor!" Sansa shouted, throwing her shoes to the ground and running even faster, pushing herself as hard as she could. Sandor turned quickly, pulling his sword from his scabbard. Before he could cut through the first demon, one of them slammed a baseball bat into Sandor's face. Sansa launched herself off of one of the headstones, jumping on another one and snapping his neck. She jumped from his back and rolled, taking the other one out at the knees so that Sandor could run him through.
Sandor panted, rubbing his jaw. "God, feels fucking broken," he muttered, shifting his chin gently. "Thought you were out with Prince Charming," Sandor grunted, wiping a trail of blood off his chin.
"Well, Prince Charming ended up being Prince Cunt," she said, giving him a sad smile as she mirrored his word from earlier.
He gave her a nod. "I feared as much." He paused, before shifting awkwardly on his feet. "I'm sorry, little bird."
Sansa shrugged, reaching down and grabbing a stake from Sandor's duffle bag. "It's alright. I think I was so excited about doing something vaguely normal that I was willing to ignore most of his flaws. Besides, if I haven't learned by this point to trust your judgement, it's obvious that I needed a more brutal wake up call."
He reached out, running his clean thumb lightly across her jaw. "I was rather hoping I wouldn't be right."
"Hey, I'm just glad I realized before it could have gotten worse. Imagine if I'd stuck around; creep like that, who knows what he'd try."
She was surprised to see that her words caused her watcher to bristle. "If he tried anything, I'd fucking kill him," he spat, his hackles standing tall.
She patted him on his scarred cheek, smiling up at the large man. "But he didn't. And, besides, even if he had, I've had this really cool guy teaching me all of these different ways to kick ass? So, I'm pretty sure I could hold my own."
Sandor snorted at that.
Sansa shivered slightly; her cardigan wasn't doing much against the chill of the graveyard. Hearing a rustling of clothing, she wasn't terribly surprised to feel Sandor's heavy leather jacket settled on her shoulders. Of course, the lack of shock didn't diminish how touched she was by the action.
Turning to look at him, she couldn't help but appreciate the way his face looked in the moonlight. Even with his scars and half grown beard, his eyes almost always alight with barely contained anger. Except, she'd come to notice months ago, when he looked at her. While never soft, his eyes gentled when he watched her.
No, Sandor wasn't traditionally handsome. She'd heard him growl enough about women of his past to know that most of them hadn't been able to get past that fact. But, looking at him now, with his poorly hidden worry in his dark grey eyes, she found that she couldn't think of a more attractive man.
Placing her hands on both sides of his face, she gently pulled him down. Even though she was tall for both her age and her gender, Sandor still towered over her. Sansa moved slowly, giving him the opportunity to pull away if he desired; she wouldn't force him.
But, he didn't move. Instead, he stayed perfectly still, like a pup waiting to be disciplined. She continued to move slowly, pushing herself to her tiptoes and moving one of her hands to the back of his neck. Placing her lips on Sandor's, Sansa closed her eyes; she focused on the roughness of his beard accompanied by the odd softness of his scars.
They stayed that way for several minutes, Sansa just focused on sensations. After several seconds, Sandor pulled her closer, his own fingers intertwining with her fire red hair. The kiss slowly turned from innocent to something headier. When the necessity to breathe became stronger, she pulled away and braced her hands on his broad chest, panting slightly.
"You shouldn't do that, Sansa," he murmured, but the fire in his eyes told another story. He was pushing closer to her, pulling her against him. "Shouldn't tease the dog."
She shook her head, pressing her lips to his scarred cheek and then his other, before returning them to his. "It's not a tease, you silly man," she murmured against his lips.
She could tell from his eyes that this was going to be an uphill battle with the man, and later she would have to worry about her family as well. Her mother had been disappointed when she'd began spending all of her time in the high school library, and then even more angry when she'd signed up for a study hall period there as well.
But, it was a fight she'd be willing to battle. She was never destined to have a normal life; she was born a slayer, after all. And any relationship with Sandor wouldn't be normal, either. But, what did it matter? He made her happy, and there was very little that she could look forward to from her life.
She'd have to spend weeks trying to convince Sandor that it was worth any jeers they'd receive. But, Sansa was nothing if not persistent.