A/N: George R.R. Martin's characters, not mine unfortunately

Dany sighed and puller her long, silver hair into a high ponytail as she trudged across the empty car park in the dim evening light. She hated staying late at work, but the horses going up for auction the following day had needed re-cataloguing after her boss, Mr Mormont, had lost the paperwork.

Another small huff of air escaped her lips as she thought about Mormont. She was half convinced he'd lost the papers on purpose, in attempt to keep her late. He was always making passes at her, and she was tired of constantly dodging them. But she needed the job. Needed the money. Tears of frustration pricked at the back of her eyes but she took a deep breath of cool air and forced them back.

When she finally reached her battered, blue car, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion. Her wide eyes drooped as she fought with the ancient lock, and when the door eventually gave way, she practically fell into the driver's seat. Dany pulled the door shut and leant back against the headrest, wondering whether it was safe to drive when she was this tired.

A sudden grunt came from the backseat. Frowning, Dany slowly turned to peer behind her and let out a hushed curse. A gigantic, shirtless man was sprawled across her backseat, his tanned skin caught in the orange glow of streetlamps. He grunted again and shifted position, his arms tangled together and both legs cramped into the foot well.

"Hey!" Dany reached back and nudged his bare shoulder, causing his long, braided hair to slide across his back. "Hey!"

One brown eye opened begrudgingly, the brow above it sliced with a thin scar. "What?" His voice was deep and gravelly, with a strong accent that Dany didn't recognise. She fought to keep herself from blushing.

"How did you get in my car?" She demanded.

The man lazily lifted his arm and pointed at the passenger-side backseat window. "You left it open." He mumbled, clearly falling asleep again.

"Okay, why did you get in my car?" Something in her voice caused him to sit up and rub at his face, both dark eyes fighting to stay open.

"I'm sorry, I-" His face puckered into a frown. "Where's my shirt?"

"I don't know!" Dany sat on her hands to stop herself from throwing them up in the air, exasperated.

"Okay! I'm sorry I crashed in your car – I had an argument with my housemate and then went and got a bit … drunk. Your car was warm and comfortable. I didn't want to go home yet." He tried to stretch his arms out but the car was too small, so he settled for folding them over his chest. "What's your name?"

"Dany." She replied shortly. "And yours?"

"Call me Drogo."

"Look, Drogo, I'm really tired and I just want to get home so …" Her voice trailed off as Drogo leaned forwards, one large hand pressed onto the driver's seat only centimetres away from Dany's shoulder. Her skin warmed and she fought to remember what she had been saying.

"Who's that?" Drogo's voice rumbled as he stared intently out of the windscreen towards a tall, slim figure loping confidently towards Dany's car.

"Mormont." She dropped her head into her hands.

"He bothers you?"

"Yes."

Mormont was just a few steps away when Drogo whispered; "Well, let's show him you're not interested." And with that, his firm hand glided across her cheek, tilting her head until his lips were on hers. For a second, she considered pulling away, but as his arm circled her waist, she couldn't help but lean into him. She let her hands roam across his neck, up into his hair, and deepened the kiss, when a sharp rap on the window made her pull back. Mormont.

Drogo flashed a wicked smile at the older man, before leaning in and brushing his lips against Dany's ear and murmuring "Drive." She fumbled to get the keys into the ignition, and could just hear Drogo's low, magnetic laughter over the roar of the engine.

"Where to?" She asked, breathless.

He reached up and traced a pattern across her lips. "You decide."