For: Dgrsenn
Prompt: Snowball fight turns flirty, turns serious, then flirty again
Ship: Sansa Stark/Theon Greyjoy
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“Are you even listening?” Sansa asked. “I’m doing this for you, Theon. You asked for my help…”
“I know I did. I’m listening,” he lied, grinning a little, which made Sansa sigh heavily and mutter under her breath. That just made him grin more. She was cute when she was annoyed. And she was always annoyed, so that worked out well.
“Look, you’re the one who waited till the last minute before asking for help shopping for your sister,” she reminded him.
He had about thirty minutes to kill before their lunch reservation. Their surprise lunch reservation, and the decoy that had seemed like such a good idea the night before suddenly didn’t. Gift shopping for Yara with Sansa would probably take up hours, not minutes. Never mind that it had taken too long to convince her to come to help him. Theon had to think of another diversion. And quick.
It was a good thing that thinking on his feet came naturally, otherwise, he might be a bit worried.
“I’ll probably just get her booze, now that I’m thinking about it…” he mused, jamming both hands in his pockets as he meandered after Sansa through the park. “Just to keep you from having to go out today.”
She rounded on him. “I’m already out, you dingus.”
He scoffed. “Barely. This is the park. We’ve still got another five minutes before we’re at the shops.”
“Oh, I should--” She stopped mid-sentence and growled under her breath. Shouldering her bag, she knelt abruptly to jam her hands in the show piled on the grass beside the sidewalk. She rolled it into a ball and rose, throwing it directly in his face. “There.”
It was cold. And slightly wet. And had gone up his nose slightly.
He spit the snow out, reaching up to clear it from his eyes. “There? You bloody well blind me and that’s all? You’re in for it now, Sansa Stark.” Theon couldn’t be too upset with her. Not when she’d created the perfect diversion all on her own without even knowing he needed one.
Of course, now he had to contend with countless snowballs to the face because she was a good shot. A really good shot. Meaning, she could hit him with three snowballs square in his face before he could throw one, but that just meant he had to get further away. He had a distance advantage if he could just put some space between them.
Theon backed up into the snow behind him, ducking behind a shrub to regroup. He popped up and tossed two snowballs at her, clipping her ponytail with one and hitting her right in the chest with the other.
She laughed aloud and dropped her bag entirely, running towards him and tackling him onto his back and pinning him down while she filled his hat with snow and shoved it back on his head.
“What time is it?” he asked, out of breath from the cold and from laughing.
“What?” she asked, pausing enough for him to disengage, and roll to his knees, finally standing and brushing the snow off him. He held out his hand to help her up as well.
“What time is it?” he repeated. “Do you have the time?”
“It’s…” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and looked at the screen. “It’s nearly one.”
“Oh, okay.” He grinned. “If we leave right now, we’ll just make it.”
“Make what?”
“Our lunch reservations.” His grin widened and her mouth fell open.
“Wait, we have lunch-- but I-- did you--??” She frowned, and Theon walked over to grab her bag from the sidewalk where she’d dropped it.
“I did,” he replied, holding it out to her. “It’s part of my gift to you.”
A smile played on her lips and they started off walking again, with Sansa brushing snow out of her hair. “Wait…” she said, stopping. “You’re taking me to lunch at a place that requires a reservation, and you still engaged in a twenty-minute long snowball fight with me?”
He shrugged. “I needed to kill time. I figured the Yara-gift-thing wasn’t going to work, so I improvised.”
“You are lucky you’re so pretty, Theon…” she said with a long sigh.
“Nahhh,” he said with a shake of his head. “My looks aren’t lucky, they just are. What’s lucky is that you’re in love with me.”
She reached for his hand and laced their fingers. “Well, it’s not as if you make it difficult to love you.”
“I must not be trying hard enough.”
“Stop that.” She stopped walking and tugged on his hand. He went where she pulled, his other hand coming up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear before he dipped down to kiss her softly on the lips. “You’re not nearly as awful at this as you seem to think you are.”
Objectively, she was right. He’d done alright today. So he bit back the caustic bit of self-deprecation and kissed her again. Then, he stepped back and tugged on her hands. “C’mon. Don’t wanna be late.”
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For: Dgrsenn
Prompt: You're shoveling the walk next door, and you slip and fall on your ass. You think no one saw, except you hear my stifled laughter
Ship: Arya Stark/Sandor Clegane
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Sandor didn’t like snow. In fact, he hated it.
And he hated one thing more than the snow. That was shoveling a snowy walk. He was enough of an adult to know that it was better to keep up with the task, rather than carefully sneaking out your side door and around to where your car was parked under a tree until the snow had piled up so much that it took several hours to dig yourself out.
He knew that, objectively.
It didn’t mean he could force himself to do something he hated, though.
Which was why he found himself out here in four below temperatures, bundled up to his fucking gills, and shoveling his front walk that was under at least two feet of snow.
He took a step forward, his foot sliding on some unseen ice under the thick layer of snow and promptly became the sole performer of a dance he didn’t have a chance to name before he fell on his arse in the middle of his yard, his shovel across his lap.
He coughed, staring at his splayed legs and thanking the gods that he hadn’t cracked his idiot skull open all over his front yard. Also thanking them belatedly that no one seemed to see the blunder.
Until a high-pitched guffaw caught his attention over the wind and his own blood rushing through his head. He glanced over next door, at Arya Stark. His neighbor and sometimes date. If dates came over for a fuck and breakfast, leaving with a strip of bacon between their teeth and coffee in his favorite mug to duck back next door. If that’s what dates were, then Arya was his date.
Sometimes.
But right now, she was laughing at him falling arse over elbows.
“Laugh it up,” he called.
“I will,” she replied.
Grumbling, he pulled himself to his feet.
“Oi. When you’re finished, you wanna do mine?”
“You wanna suck my dick?” he called back, realizing belatedly that they had neighbors. Who could possibly hear the obscenities he was shouting at the beloved member of the neighborhood who always brought meals to the shut-ins and reminded people to put out their bins.
“You wanna suck mine?” she responded without missing a beat.
“You ain’t got a dick,” he replied.
“You’d be the expert in that area,” Arya laughed. “Wanna come do mine?”
He turned to face her, realizing that her walk was already clear. She was yanking his chain to get him to come running. It was fucking working, that was the sad thing.
“After I finish up here?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she laughed.
“I guess I could head over.”
“Bring your bruised arse. Bruised or not, I still fancy it.”
Sandor would never admit to smiling while he shoveled the walk. But he did.
For: Dgrsenn
Prompt: The frost on the window matches your frosty personality
Ship: Arya Stark/Tyrion Lannister
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“One might say that the frost on that window matches your frosty personality…” Tyrion mused as he entered the room they were sharing. Arya was pointedly not watching Netflix, fuming silently while she stared at the shapes moving on the screen.
“I told you I didn’t want to come to this, Tyrion…” Arya said stiffly. “I told you I couldn’t stand your family. Hell, I could barely stand you until we started working together.”
“I won you over, didn’t I? Perhaps, in time…”
“I wholly doubt that you’d like it if your entire family won me over the way you have,” she interrupted, her face completely serious until he started to break the silence she left. Smirking, he saw her relax slightly on the bed, reaching over to pause the show she wasn’t watching.
“I have good news,” Tyrion stated, decided to blatantly ignore her previous statement.
“Are we leaving?” she asked, obviously joking.
“Yes, actually,” he replied, reaching for his tie and crossing the floor to the closet to hang it up. “First thing in the morning, or--” He stopped once he realized that the closet was empty. “Or now, since it seems you’ve already packed.”
“I swear I had an entire excuse prepared. Sansa was even going to pretend to be sick and everything.”
Tyrion chuckled. “Well, you tried, didn’t you? You tried. I’m sorry my family isn’t worthy of your friendship.”
“They aren’t worthy of yours either.”
“Well, be that as it may… you’ve endured far more than you deserved to.”
Arya smiled and held out her hand. “You’re worthy of far more, and that’s all you should concern yourself with. That, and calling someone to carry our luggage down to the car.”
“Consider it done,” Tyrion replied. “I’ll even take the liberty of booking us a room in one of the luxury hotels in Lannisport. Just for the night, we’ll head back up North first thing in the morning.”
“Thank you so much, Tyrion…” Arya reached for him, folding her arms around him in a tight hug. “Thank you.”
For: Dgrsenn \
Prompt: Snowed in and stir-crazy, Rekindle the fire, rekindle the flame \
Ship: Brienne of Tarth/Tormund Giantsbane
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“I know you probably don’t want to hear it, but that storm’s gone and come early…” Tormund was standing by the window, squinting out into the swirling snow.
Brienne set her jaw and went to join him by the window. She could barely see her car for the snow. And he was right, she didn’t want to hear it. Godsdamnit. She wanted to be on the road and on her way to stay with Sansa, not stuck here with her ex.
But even she couldn’t justify driving in this snowstorm. She’d have to wait until it cleared up.
“You’re right. I can’t drive in this,” she acquiesced, sighing heavily and turning to leave the room. She left him standing there by the window and went to sulk in the kitchen. She pulled out her phone to text Sansa and let her know not to expect her until the storm had passed. Brienne was tracing the wood grain on the kitchen table with her fingernail when Tormund entered the room, heading for the back door, he grabbed a pair of snow boots.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“I gotta start a fire, the power’s bound to go out,” he replied.
“You have firewood?” Brienne asked, sort of surprised since she was usually the one who ended up chopping it.
“Yes,” he replied. “I took care of myself before I met you, ya know.”
Blinking back her surprise, she shrugged a little. “It’s just… you always let me do it.”
“Thought you liked doing it,” he countered, tugging on the laces on his boots.
“I did,” Brienne admitted. “Kind of liked feeling needed.”
“I didn’t need you for that,” he said softly.
“What’d you need me for?” she found herself asking, almost at a whisper.
“You really want me to answer that? Or you wanna come out and help me carry in the firewood?” Tormund asked.
She got up automatically and followed him out. She still had on her coat and boots from before, when she’d mistakenly thought she would be able to leave.
They carried in the wood without a word, and Tormund started a fire in the potbelly stove. Just in time, too, because the lights flickered out minutes later.
“Did I call it or what?” he asked, grinning a little at the dead bulbs and slowing ceiling fan.
“You did,” Brienne replied, trailing off as she watched him stoke the fire. “What did you need me for?” she asked again.
He was silent for a long moment. “You wanna do this now?”
“Yes, I want to do this now.”
“You were moving out, Brie.”
“Yes.”
“Okay, fine. We’ll do this now. I’m making coffee first,” he said, wiping his hands on his trousers and rising to go back to the kitchen.
“I like mine with--”
“No sugar and cream. I remember,” he finished for her, leaving the room briskly.
Brienne reached down to untie her boots. Probably not the best time to do this. She eyed the last of her boxes by the door. Or maybe it was the perfect time.
