#ffic

They didn't talk about the comfortable early morning talks with hot chocolate when the city was still sleeping and the two of them seemed to be the only ones awake.

They didn't talk about how Mac was the one with light sleep yet Riley was always there, with a sleepy face and messy hair, in the quietness before sunrise, sharing with him the solitude and keeping the turbulent thoughts away.

They didn't talk about the text that was sent when one of them was out late asking if they were alright or how they suddenly felt discouraged to follow through with their plans and head back home after reading the message.

They didn't talk about how the word "home" became a regular word in their conversations.

They didn't talk about Riley's apartment hunt that, even though Mac itched to help her find the right one. She had vaguely let him know that she was doing it after staying a week at his house. He had said that there was no rush on her moving out; she had stopped talking about it.

They didn't talk about her creeping in whenever Mac was onto a new experiment or how she made a suggestion out of nowhere. It made Mac feel more enthusiastic. He always kept the thought to himself.

They didn't talk about the awkwardness when his girlfriend was around (that, lately, it was all the time). They were friends so there was no air to clear out, right? Right.

Some Saturday mornings, Riley would put on Phil Collins while cleaning the house. Mac wouldn't let her see his satisfied smile. They didn't talk about that either.

They just were.

Physics explains that as one gear turns, the other gear must also turn. Where the gears meet, the teeth must both move in the same direction.

The harmony that existed in their non-established routine reminded Mac of two gears that complemented each other by lending their force to get into motion. It was as if they naturally knew the exact amount of moment the other one could take on at any given time. Between them, the day by day was simple and easy.

Every sigh, every smile, every spoken word and every silence too. Every breath in their shared air was energy lended to help the rusted gears that were his life spin again.

They functioned like two newly oiled, embedded gears that smoothly ran in the same direction.

He didn't mention this either, of course. But sometimes, when they were in the kitchen, as Riley grabbed an empty glass and Mac automatically reached for the bottle of water, their eyes meet and they knew.

They knew and they felt it. That was how it was supposed to be.

(Then Riley got more serious about the apartment hunt and Mac hadn't opposed it because their synchronicity made him feel off guard.

He promised himself he was going to check on her often.

He didn't think that was odd at all.)

Sansa was in charge of taking queries and grievances that day and so far so good, she was able to charm her way into winning out or at the very least, avoid having overly irate customers. 

But it seemed that her luck ran out when the ex-mayor’s son, Joffrey Baratheon swaggered in with his entourage.

The moment he sat in front of him, clearly pissed, she knew she had her work cut out for her. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Baratheon, I’m Sansa. How may I help you today?” she said cheerily with her brightest smile. 

He crossed his arms and all out glared at her but she just kept her smile. 

“You should know. I was called here to come personally to verify some checks,” he bristled. 

Sansa gave him a nod as she typed his name on the system right away. “Of course. Just give me a moment to check and prepare them for you--

“You mean it wasn’t prepared earlier on?” He leant forward and raised a brow. 

Don’t show your fear. Be brave. Be cool.

“It would only take a moment, Mr. Baratheon. We have them ready for you but I have to access your account and docu--

He huffed in frustration, making her jump slightly. 

Joffrey stood up then making her gasp as he slammed his palm on her desk. “Listen, do you know how much inconvenience this bank of yours is giving me?” 

Sansa decided not to answer, letting him get it all out. 

“No? Of course you don’t. You’re just one of those stupid bank girls with good tits that they place on the grievances to sweet talk us loyal and generous bankers into doing it your way.”

That hurt more than Sansa thought it would. Sure it helped that they let easy-going and approachable people on the post and she did know about the stereotype, but it hurt all the same.

It was a busy day as it was the last banking day of the week so everyone was hands on deck to help her. So she took a deep breath and blinked away her threatening tears. 

“Mr. Baratheon, I apologize for any inconvenience. If you would just give me a moment to get your checks--

“Then why are you still here? If you were smart you would already be handing them to me now. Are you new? No, I’ve seen you before. Maybe you’re just that stupid. Maybe the bank’s not for you sweetheart,” he looked her up and down then and Sansa felt naked under his gaze and even more when he traced the side of her face with his finger. “You’d make more money in the red light district than the business strip.” 

Before Sansa could say or do anything, she saw a large hand grab Joffrey by the shoulder and shoved him hard that he almost fell flat on his back. 

It was their new security guard, Sandor Clegane. It was the first time she would meet him and already he was her hero. 

Joffrey was practically purple from anger. “You dare? You dare? Do you know who I am?” 

“Some cunt,” Sandor grunted as he challenged Joffrey’s bodyguards with a look. He towered over the two and from what Sansa heard of him, he used to work in the military but was granted an early reprieve. 

Joffrey’s lackeys scrambled to help him up but he shrugged them off and got up himself, looking murderously at Sandor. 

“You had no right to manhandle me,” he fumed.

“And you had no right to fucking harass our staff,” Sandor retorted.

“Harass! I--

“Did you or did you not make an indecent comment towards her?” 

“I did no such th--

“We can do this your way or we play the surveillance camera with audio and ask the victim and a witness?” Sandor smirked at him before turning towards her and giving a softer look. “You scared the little bird.”

He looked back at Joffrey then. “So what’s it gonna be?”

Joffrey turned around and started walking away to Sandor’s chuckling. 

“You’ll be hearing from my mother,” he shouted over his shoulder. 

Sandor was still chuckling while his partner, Brienne was calling out to everyone that the show was over and quickly started ushering everyone back to their places. 

Sansa took a deep breath and walked over to her savior, reaching up to tap him on the shoulder but as he turned to face her abruptly, she didn’t step back in time that she almost got knocked down by his massive shoulders if he didn’t suddenly catch her with his large arms. 

“Easy there, little bird.” 

“I’m not a little bird,” she frowned at him. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not either,” he gave her a lopsided grin before releasing her. 

Sansa blushed for some reason but she cleared her throat and extended her hand to shake. “I just want to thank you for, well, saving me back there. And my name is--

“Sansa Stark,” he finished with a firm grasp at her hand. “I know who you are. And you are nothing like what the cunt was dicking about.” 

Sansa was surprised but incredibly touched despite the rough language. “I really want to thank you. Can I make dinner for you some time?” 

That seemed to surprise him though and Sansa couldn’t help but smile at that. “I can try and make whatever you like.” 

Though he didn’t smile and his face was still stern, his eyes were a tad soft as he nodded. “Chickens. Anything with chickens.”

Sansa wrinkled her nose then and nodded. “You like to eat chickens, yet you call me little bird? Is this some kind of a joke?”