Title: Watching Him Think

Rating: PG

Pairing: Shae x Tyrion

Summary: When Shae has trouble sleeping at night, she likes to watch Tryion's face, to see if she can guess what he's thinking. Tonight, she already knows, because he's had this nightmare before.

Warnings: Spoilers. That's pretty much it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Game of Thrones or the characters, blah blah blah.

Shae thought it was funny, just how much Tyrion thought.

He thought when he was eating. He thought when he was drinking. He thought while he was bathing. And he thought when they were making love.

He even thought when he was sleeping.

She could tell, because when Tyrion thought, a little wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows which would twitch and furrow with the flow of his musings. The deeper the line, the more erratic the twitching, the harder he was thinking.

What do you think about, little lion? She wondered, laying on her stomach with her head pillowed on her arms so she could watch him sleep-think. Battle plans? The city's defenses? Your wretched family? If you were thinking of me, you would be dreaming. She glanced down the sheets, a sleepy smile on her face. And your little lion would be up and prancing. So what are you thinking about?

It was a game to her, trying to decipher his inner wonderings. Sometimes, when she couldn't sleep at night from the weight of old fears, she would amuse herself by imagining what he was thinking about, or would stroke her fingertips over his lips and forehead, which would make his nose wiggle, and see how long it took for him to brush her hand away in his sleep. Then when she was too tired to be afraid anymore, she would curl closer to the stunted man and rest her head on his shoulder. In the morning he would jokingly complain about the invisible needles in his arm, and she would make it up to him with a quick morning romp.

Tyrion mumbled something she couldn't make out and turned his head to the side, away from Shae.

Worrying about Stannis, maybe. How will you rally this godforsaken city against the old stag, my lion? Because it will be up to you, won't it? Your dung-brain nephew will be worthless, and your mad sister even less helpful. So how will you, the Imp, the Halfman, inspire the troops?

He shifted in the bed, his frown more pronounced and turned his head towards her. Shae smiled and ran her thumb over the crease in his forehead.

Maybe it's your family you are fretting over tonight. What is Cersei's next move against you? How will you control Joffery? Earn your father's favor? Save your brother? Torment your naïve little cousin? She smiled and lowered her hand to his chest.

"Don't…"

Shae froze, startled by the urgency in his voice. She propped herself up on an elbow to look down at him. "Tyrion?"

He sighed and whipped his head away from her again. "Please, stop."

He's dreaming. Bad dreams. "Tyrion, shh." She cupped his cheek and tried to make him turn to her, but he stubbornly shook his head free.

"S-stop it!"

Shae sat up on her knees, allowing the sheet to slide off her back and pool around her legs. "Shh, it's alright."

"Let her go!" His voice was low and pleading, and his expression suddenly morphed to panic. "Please, don't hurt her."

She knew what dream he was having, now. He'd had it once before, back when they were still at the camp. It was the night he, Shae, and Bronn had played that silly game in his tent, sprawled over the ground like a bunch of children while they emptied bottle after bottle of cheap spirits, and told stories of their past. That night, after he'd fucked Shae, he'd dreamt of Tysha. There was a small, ugly part of Shae that resented him that night, which reared its ugly head again as he clenched the sheets in his fists and tossed his head. Maybe it wasn't so shocking, really. After all, his vile sister believed Tyrion's whore was currently her prisoner and for a moment, Tyrion had believed the same. He had come running into the room to find her safe and whole. Still, the ordeal must have affected him more deeply than he had let on.

"She's not a whore… no… stop, don't… don't hurt her!" He was becoming frantic now.

Should I wake him? She wondered, while that dark corner of her mind continued to sulk jealously.

"Let her go, get off! Shae! SHAE!" Her eyes grew wide and round, and the prostitute could only look down at him with shock and awe plastered over her features.

He… he's not… he's not dreaming of her? Shae cupped his face in her hands and held him firm as his eyes wheeled beneath their lids. "Tyrion!"

The sound of her voice finally reached him, and with a gasp his eyes flew open to stare fearfully up at her. Tyrion's voice was shaky and confused as he spoke. "Shae?"

The woman smiled softly, reassuringly, down at him and stroked her thumb over his cheekbone. "Shh, you were dreaming badly, my lion. I am here, you're safe."

He wrapped his hands around her wrists and held tight. "I… You… They were…"

Shae softened at the naked fear in his eyes, the fear of her suffering. How could she, even for a moment, have been upset with him? She leaned down and brushed her lips over Tyrion's. "Hush now, my lion. It was just a bad dream."

Tyrion shut his eyes and nuzzled into one of her palms. "I thought-"

Shae lay on her side and pulled him close to her. "You think too much."

He nodded and buried his face in her breasts, his arms wrapped tight around her waist. "You're right, of course. You're right." He sighed and clenched his fists against her back. "I'll never let them hurt you that way… Never…"

She ran her fingers through the curls at his neck, and pressed her lips to the crown of his head. "Nor will I allow them to hurt you, my lion."

She began to sing, then, in her native language. It was a children's lullaby, soft and sweet. Though he couldn't understand the words, Tyrion felt his frayed nerves smooth out. He was comforted by her gentle warble, and before she could finish the rhyme, he had slipped under once more. He still held her in a vice-like grip, crushing her against him like a child might a stuffed toy.

Shae smiled down at the sleeping dwarf and continued to brush his golden curls. There was a warm feeling in her belly and chest, which she supposed might not have been strictly appropriate, given what he had been dreaming about. He murmured something against her chest and tightened his hold on her, so Shae began to hum and trace the outer shell of his ear.

Gradually, his grip began to loosen, his shoulders began to relax.

And when she finally had enough room to wiggle down his body so they were face-to-face, she was pleased to see that his brow was smooth and there was no little line between his eyes.