Inspired by Raymon Carver's short story "Why Dont You Dance?" (sriously he is one of my very favorite authors you guys should read some of his stuff if you haven't already. You can read "Why Don't You Dance" online *wink wink* *nudge nudge*)
A little out of character to fit the story.
-Vee
Sandor poured himself a glass of whiskey as he stood in front of the kitchen sink, looking out the window to the front yard of her house.
The day was growing old and the world was bathed in a warm orange glow as the sun began to set behind the trees. A car passed, the inhabitants slowing to gaze curiously at the objects arranged on the lawn, but they didn't stop.
He watched the car drive off down the street and grunted to himself. He doubted he would stop to look either.
He drank some of the whiskey, breathing out the strong burn as it hit his throat and warmed his stomach.
The day was warm and he rubbed a hand over his face, over the side covered in stubble, then over the other covered in scars.
He finished his drink and frowned to see the bottle was empty.
He took his wallet and keys and left, shrugging into an old, worn leather jacket, the color of mahogany, it used to be is father's.
He locked the door behind him and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans as he walked, glancing at the bed that sat on the grass with the covers and pillows arranged neatly, the bedside table on one side, a lamp on the other.
When he returned, walking down the sidewalk with a bag of whisky and beer, the sun was nearly gone from the sky. He was surprised to see the car parked on the pavement in front of the yard. It was a nice car.
He heard voices and saw a girl and a boy on the bed. The boy was lying down, looking up at the girl with a bored expression. The girl sat up, gazing around at the stuff.
Her hair was long, swaying around her shoulders and waist like a lazy flame. Her face was pretty; all high cheekbones, clear pale skin and bright blue eyes. She bounced off the bed and moved around, touching the tablecloth, running her hand over the table, plugging in the lamp and switching it on and off.
"Sansa, come sit on the bed."
"I feel funny, maybe we should see if anyone is home."
The boy lit a cigarette and got off the bed, moving over to the TV and switching it on. He shook his blonde hair out his eyes and sat in the garden chair to watch.
The girl glanced into the dark windows of the house and moved among the stuff. She touched a few of the dresses and scarfs hanging in the open wardrobe, pulling one out to size against her slender frame. The dress was deep blue and she caressed the soft fabric fondly. Sandor watched her, a warmth in his chest as she looked at herself in the mirror just like the dress' old owner used to.
"I wonder how much they want for this" she said, as if to herself.
The boy glanced over to her and huffed, standing and flicking his cigarette away. He stood behind her, looking into the mirror frowning.
"It looks awful, let's go, this is boring, I don't know why I let you drag me here."
The girl's eyes were sad as she put the dress back in the wardrobe, "I just wanted to look..."
The boy huffed again and took her by the arm, "come on, let's go, I want to go back to my place."
It was as if the boy had said something completely different and Sandor waged he had in the way the girl looked into his face, fear flooding her features.
"No."
"Come on!"
"Joffrey, let me go, you're hurting me."
The girl pushed against him
"If you are going to make that much noise, take yourselves somewhere else," Sandor interrupted, walking forwards and putting the bag on the table.
The boy turned to him frowning, "who are you?"
He ignored him and pulled out the beer and whiskey.
The girl walked towards him a little, he could feel her eyes on his scars but he just took a swig of the beer.
"We thought no one was here."
He remained silent.
"This your stuff?"
"My sisters." He took another swig of beer, his grey eyes on her small frame.
"How much for the bed?" the girl asked, the boy coming forwards, another cigarette in hand.
"Fifty."
"Would you take forty?"
He looked down at the girl, her blue eyes looking right back at him.
"Aye."
She smiled and his chest warmed.
"You don't need a bed, I have mine, you don't need an apartment."
She frowned and spoke to the boy over her shoulder, "I would like my own place once I move out of the student halls."
The boy scoffed and sat down to watch the TV again, kicking his feet up onto the desk.
"How about the wardrobe? And the dressing table? And maybe the lamp."
"Buy the wardrobe and the dresses you can have."
She looked up at him with an unreadable expression, "were they not your sister's also?"
"She's dead." he said simply, opening the whiskey and taking a glass from the table.
She seemed at a loss of what to say, looking away from him to the boy still watching the TV, flicking though channels, bored.
"Five for the lamp, 15 for the dressing table and twenty for the wardrobe."
He offered her a glass of whiskey and she smiled, accepting and took a small sip. Her nose scrunched at the taste but she took another sip while peering around at the rest of the furniture.
Sandor sat in the big armchair and the girl came to sit beside him on the couch. He was surprised but didn't show it, simply taking another drink of whiskey and sighing.
The girl leaned back and gazed up into the sky.
"I think I can see a star."
The boy got up and took a beer, taking a long drink
There was something about this girl. Something in her face that sparked something like protectiveness in Sandor. And the boy, there was something in his face also - but it was something Sandor didn't like. He felt angry when he looked at him and had to resist punching his annoying wormy mouth.
"How you paying?" Sandor asked, looking to the boy.
But it was the girl who pulled out the checkbook from her bag, slung across her body.
"Cheque ok?"
He looked at her, then the boy who was peering at some records in disgust, and grunted in response.
While she wrote the check, Sandor stood and switched off the TV. He picked up the box of records from the boy's gaze and placed them on the table beside the record player, next to the whiskey, in front of the girl as she tore the check from the book.
"I made it out to cash."
He took the check when she handed it to him, looking at her neat signature then nodded, folding it and slipping it into his pocket.
"Pick one," he told her as she flicked through the records. She smiled at him.
"The records and player are going too, name a price," he said, sitting down on the couch with his glass and bottle.
She grinned and held out her glass for him to pour, sitting down beside him on the couch.
"Thank you, you're nice."
"Stop drinking so much, Sansa" barked the boy as he stumbled past them, "it goes straight to your head."
The boy blinked and jiggled his glass, watching the amber liquid swirl around. He sat down on the chair by the TV and frowned, drinking deep and lost in thought.
They listened to the music from the record and Sandor closed his eyes. On the couch, the girl sat close to him. She was so small and delicate, she reminded him of a bird. A little bird.
"What did you say?"
His eyes opened and he looked down into those blue depths, "hm?"
She giggled softly, the sound pleasant, "you called me little bird."
He frowned, trying to remember saying that out loud, "aye."
The music was soft and hypnotic, the male singer's voice a deep rumble, singing about a woman named Eliza Day.
The girl, Sansa, stood and smiled to herself, the drink in her head. The boy snored in the seat, head bowed to his chest, glass slipping from his grasp.
The night was warm and Sandor watched her dance. She swayed from side to side, singing along in a soft voice. Her cheeks were rosy and her hands moved either side of her like the soft beat of a bird's wings.
"Why don't you dance?"
She was standing before him, hair framing her pretty face. She braced her hands on his knees and leaned towards him, her long hair falling to brush against his arms, her face close to his, eyes sparkling.
"Dance with me."
He shifted, uncomfortable and looked away from her, gripping his glass tighter.
"You're drunk."
Her head tilted to the side and her eyes never left him. He looked back to her and she smiled again.
"I'm not drunk."
He grunted and stood, stepping out of her presence and turned the record over. He turned around and she was standing with her arms wide open. She smiled at him again and he wondered at this girl.
Arms around each other, bodies pressed together, they swayed to the music. She felt small in his arms but she held him close. Her hair was soft, swaying in the wind and brushing against his arm. He felt her warm breath on his neck and his fingers caressed her skin and she sighed.
She pulled away to look into his face and his eyes explored her. He could see the slight tinge of bruised skin around her right eye, covered generously by makeup. He also noticed a small scar on her bottom lip and another bruise that hid under the neckline of her dress.
Anger grew inside him and he glanced over to the boy still snoring in the chair.
Her lips pressed against his scars and he stiffened.
Her hand gently turned his head back to her and she kissed him, her lips soft, tasting like honey and whiskey.
He pulled away and looked around, embarrassed, "those people over there, they're watching."
She rested her head against his chest, "it's okay, let them watch," she said.
They danced some more, and when that song was done they danced again, and a few songs after that.
"I hope you like the dresses," he said, his voice low and raspy, speaking into her hair.
Sansa closed then opened her eyes, pulled Sandor closer, "they are very beautiful."
He nodded and his hand ran up and down her back slowly.
"I'm sorry about your sister."
Her voice was so quiet he could have imagined she spoke at all.
Weeks later, Sansa had finished college. She had her own place, furnished with a bed, a wardrobe, a lamp, records and a player, and a few other things.
She always wore floating, patterned dresses.
She spoke to her friend about Joffrey, the boy she had been with once. She showed her the bruises and scars and her friend cried.
"I know, I should have told you. I was scared..."
The girl danced in the lamplight to her records. Her dress floated around her with her movements and she sang softly.
Sandor liked to watch her.
He liked it even more when she came to him with her arms wide, pulling him to his feet and dancing with him.
He liked it when she kissed him and sang him songs.
(*whispers* Nick Cave reference because i can and i love him)