To ADK_SanSan:

After discussing our love of 80's/90's arena rock, we both agreed that we could see Sandor as an arena/metal rocker. This got my mind going and I decided that I had to write an 80's arena/metal rock SanSan fic!

This is circa 1987 so be prepared for loads of 80's references (although I was only alive for a whopping four years in the '80's).

Each chapter will get its title from an amazing hairband/rock/metal song from this time period.

A special thanks to mendedheart1 for beta'ing this fic!


Thunderstruck

Chapter One


"What's the name of this band again?" Sansa asked for the umpteenth time, still only half paying attention as she flipped open her powder compact and applied a layer of sheer, cherry flavored lip gloss. In a rainbow of rippling colors, the city lights were reflected on the Chicago River and cascaded by her as Sansa's eyes flickered out the window of Gendry's '69 Firebird, his pride and joy.

Arya sighed audibly in the front seat as she swiveled around to face Sansa, a look of utter annoyance plastered on her face.

"Cannibal Star! I've told you, like, five thousand times."

Her little sister, although hardly little anymore at sixteen years of age, rolled her eyes in mock exasperation but quickly conceded. Sansa was doing her a tremendous favor, and Arya knew it. In fact, she had begged and pleaded with Sansa to come and even offered to do Sansa's chores for the next week if she agreed, just this once, to help her out.

Last weekend, Arya had been caught, once again, sneaking out to meet up with Gendry, a boy her parents didn't quite approve of. Although three years older than Arya, Gendry was a nice guy and had a good job at the steel mill. If he was a college student working hard to secure a future as a boring accountant or pompous Wall Street broker, Sansa doubted her parents would have had such a problem with him. Even she had to admit it was a little unfair. Either way, Arya's rebelliousness had gotten her grounded despite Gendry having procured tickets and backstage passes to their favorite metal band.

Their father had been adamant that Arya wouldn't be allowed to go. It was part of her punishment for not only breaking curfew but also sneaking out to meet up with Gendry. Arya had whined and complained all week, slowly breaking down her parents' resolve instead of quietly accepting her punishment, as Sansa was apt to do. Per usual, their mother relented first after Arya had sucked up to her, buttering their mom up with compliments and help around the house until she agreed to discuss the matter with their father.

He was harder to convince, but after a lengthy discussion between the parental unit, their father had begrudgingly conceded to letting Arya attend the concert under one condition: Sansa had to go with Arya and Gendry, a chaperone of sorts, although she was only two years older than Arya. Regardless, Sansa was the responsible daughter, always trying to politely follow the rules and make as little waves as possible. Her reward for that was having to "escort" her sister to some stupid metal concert.

"Did you have to dress like a goddamn yuppie?" Arya huffed as she stared at Sansa, looking mortified that she'd have to be seen with her prim and proper sister.

Looking down for a cursory evaluation of her outfit, Sansa didn't quite see what the problem was. In fact, she thought she looked quite nice; even their mother had said so. Sansa had chosen a pleated skirt in her favorite shade of baby blue, a sensible white blouse, and a soft pink sweater. Perhaps tying the sweater around her neck was a bit much, but the night was bound to grow chilly and she didn't want to be without something to cover up with. Besides, who knew what sort of freak shows would be roaming around the place they were going. She didn't want to be too exposed.

"Arya, I really wish you'd watch your mouth," Sansa sighed as she tucked away her compact and lip gloss into her cross body purse. "Did you two have to dress like Sid and Nancy?" she added as she motioned her head towards the front seat.

"That's quite a compliment. Thanks, Sansa," Gendry beamed as he caught Sansa's eyes in the rear view mirror. He had teased his hair almost as much as Arya, except his hair, much to Arya's chagrin, was a few inches longer than hers and fell below his shoulders. Sansa had had to stifle a laugh as she watched the two of them pass the Aqua Net back and forth while perfecting their coifs in Gendry's bathroom mirror.

"She didn't mean it as a compliment, dummy!" Arya chided playfully as she whacked Gendry across the arm. The boy responded by winking at her, and the two of them exchanged a laugh across the center console. Sansa had to admit, they were a cute couple and she was happy for her sister. Although her own relationship with Joff had gone to hell in a hand basket, Sansa held out hope that perhaps she'd find someone she could share a genuine connection with, as Arya shared with Gendry.

Parking in downtown Chicago on a Friday night was an absolute nightmare, and Sansa groaned in frustration when Gendry finally parked the car on a side street about ten blocks away from the concert venue. Killing the engine, Gendry shifted his eyes between Sansa and Arya.

"Ladies, we'll have to trek it through the mean streets of Chi-Town," he declared with a grin before jumping from the car.

Let's get this night over with,Sansa groaned internally before rolling her eyes and pushing the door open with a sigh. She had never heard of Cannibal Star or whatever this band was called, but if it was anything like the music she had heard blaring from Arya's walkman, Sansa knew she was going to hate it. Conversely, Arya hated Sansa's music too and was constantly making fun of her for singing along to her Madonna or Cyndi Lauper tapes.

After walking five blocks, Sansa regretted wearing the blue pumps Margaery lent her. While the heel wasn't particularly high, the leather around the sides was digging painfully into her skin, rubbing it raw with each step. Ahead of her, Arya and Gendry were chatting excitedly as they rattled off all the songs they hoped were on the set list. "Gravedigger", "The Hounds of Hell", "Meat for the Butcher with the Sword". Those had been but a few of the ones Sansa had overheard them gushing about. After that, she had stopped listening and instead started an internal countdown of when this night would be over with.

As they neared the concert venue, Sansa could see people gathered in line outside, shifting restlessly from side to side while they waited for the doors to open. Most were garbed in black from head to toe, hair teased wildly and with shit-kicking boots on their feet. Even Arya looked the part with her torn up jeans over a pair of sheer black tights, leather cowboy boots, and a leather jacket which covered a tattered looking Cannibal Star T-shirt she had borrowed from Gendry, who was dressed almost identically to his girlfriend.

Both Arya and Gendry seemed to have read Sansa's mind as they stopped one block short of the venue.

Shucking out of her leather jacket, Arya balled it up and shoved it towards Sansa.

"You're going to stick out like a sore thumb. Here. Put this on before you get laughed out of the venue."

Hesitating, Sansa shot Gendry a pleading look.

"This is, like, embarrassing to the max," she whimpered.

Whatever sympathy Sansa hoped to gain from Gendry was lost as he grasped her by the shoulders and gave a soft squeeze.

"Sansa, you know I like you, but if you get laughed out of the building, Arya and I are going to have to pretend we don't know you. I busted my ass to get these backstage passes."

By busted his ass, he meant incessantly calling into the local classic rock station while they were giving out tickets and backstage passes to the show. As luck would have it, Gendry was eventually the one-hundredth caller and snagged the tickets he had spent so long rambling on about.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it," Sansa sighed before loosening her Izod cardigan from around her neck and tying it firmly around her waist. As she slipped into the heavy leather jacket, she had to admit it was warm and didn't quite call so much attention to her as the sweater did. Regardless, she'd hardly blend into the crowd and was bound to get stares anyway.

The doors of the venue had just been opened as they approached, the concert goers howling and shouting out wildly with delight as they were slowly shuffled into the building. By the time Sansa, Arya, and Gendry made it to the front of the line, the din of the crowd was already pouring through the doors, intermingling on the haze of cigarette smoke which cast the room in a dull, dingy glow.

"I need to see some ID," the heavyset bouncer abruptly barked out, appearing annoyed as he stared at the line which extended behind them and still wrapped around the building. Sansa's heart skipped a beat. Arya was still a minor, and there was no way this no-nonsense bouncer was going to let her through. As Sansa was about to turn to Arya with a feigned look of sympathy at having to call the night short, her sister nonchalantly produced an Illinois driver's license with the picture of a woman Sansa did not recognize.

Arya hardly seemed fazed, even as the bouncer shined a flash light on it and flickered his eyes up to study Arya's face. Handing the ID back, the bouncer let Arya through. After showing her ID and being waved through, Sansa caught up with her sister.

"Since when do you have a fake ID?" Sansa asked incredulously, although it didn't quite surprise her.

"Since I started dating a guy who knows a guy who makes kickass fake IDs," Arya replied, seemingly satisfied with herself as she flashed a smile at Gendry who only shrugged his shoulders in return.

The inside of the venue was a sea of writhing bodies, all packed in as close to the stage as possible. The room was dimly lit with red lights glowing like embers from wall sconces. Adjacent to the stage was a bar extending the length of the wall and manned by two individuals covered in tattoos and sporting severe scowls as they served up beverages to the rowdy crowd.

Sansa scanned the room. With their studded accessories, various articles of tight leather clothing, and teased out hair, every individual appeared as though they had just come off the set of a Judas Priest or Iron Maiden music video. Even with the leather jacket, there was no hiding that Sansa didn't belong here. Tapping her sister on the shoulder to get her attention, Sansa pointed towards the wall opposite from the bar.

"I'm going to stand over there."

"Sansa, come up front with Gendry and I," Arya pleaded as she took Sansa's hand and tried to pull her towards the crowd gathered in front of the stage.

"Arya, no. I really don't want to," Sansa whined as she pulled her hand away. The last thing she wanted was to get caught up in a mosh pit and ruin her clothes. Besides, her feet were killing her where the shoes had rubbed her raw.

Rolling her eyes and growling out her frustration, Arya threw her hands up in the air.

"Fine! Be a boring, yuppie prude, Sansa. One of these days, I'm going to break you out of your shell."

Thankful that her sister relented, Sansa shouldered her way through the crowd, ignoring the intermittent cat calls and lewd stares as she went. She perched herself against the far wall and was surprised to find that she had a decent view of the stage, not that that mattered much. Mindlessly, she picked at her nails, trying to occupy herself the best she could. Her mind wandered to what she shouldbe doing right now. Margaery had invited her to Loras' surprise birthday party, a fete which was being thrown at a swanky restaurant downtown and was courtesy of the Tyrell family's extraordinary wealth. Her friend had begged her to bail on Arya and spend the evening eating, drinking, and dancing the night away. As much as Sansa would have rather attended Loras' party, she didn't have the heart to blow her sister off. Besides, Joffrey was likely to be in attendance at the party, and Sansa wasn't quite sure she was ready to be in the same room as him just yet.

Her thoughts were swiftly interrupted as the sound of a bass drum reverberated through her chest, and the lights of the venue steadily lowered until the room was cast in complete darkness. Everyone in the building seemed to simultaneously gasp before a hush fell over the crowd. Clear as a bell, an undulating guitar riff sounded out over the speakers, eliciting cheers from the concert goers. After a few bars of the riff, a low, guttural singing echoed through the room as the song slowed slightly in its tempo until the room fell silent again. The energy of the building had turned electric, the crowd had steadily pushed forward, and tension seemed to rise as the silence wore on and smoke rippled across the stage.

Once more, the bass drum pounded through the room along with two guitars, now dueling through complicated riffs. As soon as the singer's voice pierced through the darkness once more, lights flashed against the stage, illuminating the band as they seemed to emerge from the smoke. The crowd broke into deafening cheers as the rhythm of the song picked up. The room seemed to move in unison with the beat, rocking and swaying with each pound of the drums. Standing on her tippy-toes, Sansa could see Gendry and Arya up front, their hair whipping to and fro as they head banged to the song.

Sansa had been to concerts before, but never had she ever felt as though her ear drums might burst open. The music was beyond deafening. Sansa could hardly hear the thoughts in her own head as the song wore on and the crowd belted out every last word. The lead singer sauntered around the stage clothed in quite possibly the tightest leather pants known to man. Sansa imagined the singer had been sewn into them, and exhaled a laugh at the thought. That was what she didn't understand about this type of music; these men fancied themselves hard and tough yet wore clothes tighter than any woman would, and some even wore make up.

Sizing up each member of the band, Sansa could see they fit the bill for most metal bands: obnoxious leather outfits, hair teased to the high heavens, and a few wearing heavy black eyeliner. However, one band member stood out from the rest. Situated on the right side of the stage nearest to the wall where Sansa was perched, this man's form was lurking in the fleeting shadows of the stage.

Her attention was drawn back to the lead singer as the song came to a gradual end.

"Thank you, Chicago!" the singer belted out in falsetto before laughing into the microphone. "We're happy to end this tour back in our hometown. Make some noise for Cannibal Star!"

Before the singer could finish, the crowd erupted into more cheers as the next song set in, quickly drowning out the horde and beckoning a steady pressure to build in Sansa's head. Blessedly, the song began to slow after awhile, and the drums seemed to fall away a bit. The musician who had been lurking in the shadows stepped forward, drawing the undivided attention of the crowd as he set into a wailing guitar solo.

Mesmerized like all the rest, Sansa found herself staring at him. He was quite possibly the tallest man she had ever seen, towering over his band mates who were by no means short in stature. The black guitar was dwarfed in his hands, and yet he played with an intricate delicacy, his fingers moving deftly up and down the strings.

Unlike all the others, his hair wasn't teased, but instead fell in raven black waves past his shoulders. With a curtain of hair around his face, Sansa couldn't quite make out his features until his head fell back with eyes closed as he reached the climax of his solo. His features were decidedly masculine: a strong jaw line, heavy brow, and hooked nose.

Sansa felt the heat hit her cheeks as she took in the sight of him. He wasn't wearing a shirt, only tight fitting black leather pants paired with Doc Martens. His chest and abdomen were a chiseled expanse of taut muscles which rippled beneath his skin. Much like the rest of him, his arms were sculpted to perfection, his biceps and triceps defined in thick swathes of muscle. Sansa couldn't take her eyes off of him and instead found that her stare seemed magnetized towards him.

The man opened his eyes as his solo waned behind the steady increase of drum beats. Immediately, his gaze fell on Sansa, and she could have sworn he was staring straight at her. She expected his eyes to roam away. Surely, hers was just another face in the crowd, and that was if he could even make out any faces in the crowd. However, his eyes remained glued to hers in a heavy stare as his hand continued to move up and down the guitar neck.

Flustered, Sansa shifted her gaze over her shoulder, certain he had locked eyes with someone else. Finding the space behind her empty, Sansa turned her attention forward once more. The intensity of his stare was still on her, and now certain members of the crowd seemed to notice as they, much like she had, turned around to see who he was looking at. Letting her eyes drift up to his, Sansa felt her lips part as she pulled in a shaky breath. The corner of the man's mouth pulled into a smug half-smile as he turned away. With the left side of his face now visible, Sansa let out a gasp. It was a disfigured mass of burned flesh extending from his forehead down to the middle of his cheek. Locks of his black hair feebly covered perhaps the worst of it, but the effect was still horrifying.

Turning around once more, the good side of the man's face was now visible to Sansa again, and when his stare landed squarely on her, she couldn't help but lower her eyes. His scars were repulsive, that was for sure, but that wasn't quite why she turned her stare away. Swallowing hard, she felt a small fluttering sensation originate from the pit of her stomach. She didn't want him to keep staring at her, and yet when she lifted her eyes again and found he was no longer looking at her, Sansa felt a sliver of disappointment well up within her.

For the remainder of the concert, Sansa watched him, but he never again returned her stare. After a lengthy encore, the band retreated from the stage. Good. We can go home now. As Arya came bounding up to her, out of breath and covered in a layer of sweat, Sansa remembered the backstage passes and felt her temporary joy evaporate.

"Fuck yeah, that was awesome!" Arya screeched, her voice hoarse from screaming and shouting along to the music.

Gendry quickly fell in next to Arya, equally as out of breath yet looking as though he were on cloud nine.

"Did you have a good time?" Gendry breathed as he gulped for air.

Unbidden, Sansa's mind flashed to images of the guitarist and the way he had been looking - no, staring - at her.

"Yeah. It wasn't so bad, I guess," she replied, although her head was pounding, and she could already tell her hair and clothes reeked like cigarette smoke.

After a majority of the crowd cleared from the building, Sansa followed behind Arya and Gendry as they were led by one of the band aides down a hallway and towards what Sansa imagined was "backstage". As they approached the door, Gendry turned an apologetic stare towards Sansa.

"We only have two backstage passes. I'm sorry, kiddo," Gendry murmured regretfully, although Sansa found herself relieved by the news. What if I run into that guitarist? No, I don't want that.

"That's fine," Sansa assured Gendry and Arya with a smile. "I'll just wait out here. Have fun."

As the two disappeared behind the door labeled Employees Only, Sansa headed down the hallway a bit further towards an exit door. A bit of fresh air sounded a lot better than hanging out with a bunch of greasy, hairy metal dudes anyway. As she was about to push through the door, Sansa heard loud squeals coming from the other end of the corridor. Turning over her shoulder, she saw a group of girls heading towards the backstage area. With short skirts, high heels, and pounds of make up on, each one seemed more scantily clad than the next. Rolling her eyes, Sansa abruptly pushed through the door and hurried through, barreling into someone as she stepped outside. Tripping on her heels, Sansa began careening forward towards the ground until two hands reached out and gripped her firmly on her upper arms.

"I'm sorry!" Sansa exclaimed on a breathy exhale as she spun around. Her eyes were met with a man's broad chest, and as she lifted her eyes, Sansa realized her body was flush with the guitarist from the band.

"You're shaking. Do I frighten you that much, girl?" the man growled on a deep voice, the timbre seeming to match his size.

"N-no," Sansa stammered as she lowered her eyes and tried to wriggle from his grasp but to no avail. "You just startled me is all." It was a lie. His size was intimidating, and his face was gruesome.

Letting go of her arms, the man barked out a rough laugh as he settled himself to sit on the small set of stairs leading to the ground below.

"That's a lie if I've ever heard one," he remarked, equal parts bitter and amused. Sansa saw that he now had a black T-shirt on and a pair of torn up blue jeans.

She eyed the staircase he was sitting on and swallowed hard as she realized she would have gone tumbling down it had he not caught her. Sitting with the unburned side of his face visible to her, the guitarist took a long pull on a bottle of whiskey he had in his hand. She wondered if he was drunk, a thought which immediately filled her with dread. She didn't know this man, and they were alone outside together. Stepping away from him slightly, Sansa pressed her back against the wall extending adjacent from the man.

"You played very well tonight," Sansa spoke after a heavy silence had settled between them. She didn't quite know why she felt compelled to say that. It's not as if she owed this man a conversation or anything.

Once more, the man laughed; this time it was short and mirthless.

"As if you would know," the man mumbled as he stared out towards the parking lot that extended behind the building. "Did you get separated from the rest of the groupies?"

"I'm not a groupie!" Sansa blurted out, offended that he would even think that of her. "My sister and her boyfriend had backstage passes. I'm waiting on them."

Turning a stare towards her, the man let his eyes flicker up and down her body, stilling Sansa's breath with each pass and making her wish she could just melt into the wall to disappear.

"And you didn't want to go back there with them? A pretty little thing like you would've made it backstage just fine without a pass," the man mused as he continued to leer openly at her with a not-so-subtle half-smile pulling across the ruined side of his mouth.

"This isn't really my scene," Sansa replied as she pulled the leather jacket tight around her. When the man averted his gaze away from her, she let go of a breath she'd been holding.

"I can see that. I imagine you'd rather be at the mall, maxing out daddy's credit card, yeah?"

He was mocking her, Sansa knew. He assumed she was a certain type of girl, probably one of those Valley girls from California who were vapid and self-absorbed. The thought stung, although she didn't know why.

"Why aren't you back there with your band mates and the groupies?" Sansa shot back, hoping that he'd realize he was missing out and head back inside to leave her in peace.

"Not my scene," the man countered smugly as he turned an intense stare towards her. "Although, I'll probably fuck one of those groupies later. We'll see how the night goes," he added with a shrug of his shoulders as Sansa's mouth fell open. "You wouldn't know anything about that, though, by the looks of you."

If the condescension in his words wasn't infuriating enough, the implication was downright vulgar and none of his damn business besides. He was making her nervous, and Sansa toyed with the idea of turning around to go back inside. She could make something up about being cold or wanting to check on her sister; it would be that simple. However, she found herself rooted where she was.

"You're vile," Sansa retorted as she shifted her glare towards the parking lot. This was the perfect ending to a perfectly awful night.

"And you're a prude," the man jeered without hesitation. "You need to loosen up a bit. Here." Holding out his arm, the man offered her the bottle of whiskey, his eyes matched to hers in a heavy gaze.

Instead of looking away or averting her eyes, Sansa kept his stare and noticed for the first time that his eyes were pale grey in color.

"No, thank you," she murmured as butterflies inexplicably fluttered in her stomach. Licking her lips, Sansa finally broke the stare after it had lasted a handful of seconds longer than any normal glance should.

"Suit yourself," the man replied as he set the bottle down and leaned back with his elbows resting on the top step. Craning his neck up to look at her, the man once more seemed to be appraising her.

"You look like that red-headed broad. Can't think of her name," he noted.

Sighing, Sansa rolled her eyes. Ever since "I Think We're Alone Now"came out, she was constantly getting compared to the red-headed pop star.

"Tiffany? I look nothing like her," Sansa groaned, her typical reply. Somehow she found herself more annoyed than usual by the comparison. She didn't like the way he had assumed that all she did was hang out at the mall, spend her dad's money, and try to emulate Tiffany.

Sensing her annoyance, the man laughed, and Sansa imagined he was about to fire back some mocking jab at her.

"You're right. You're a hell of a lot cuter than her, but that's not who I was talking about."

Sansa felt her cheeks burning hot and the butterflies seemed to turn molten in her stomach as the heat spread throughout her body. After a long silence, the man snapped his fingers.

"Tawny Kitaen. That's who you look like," the man explained after the realization seemed to suddenly dawn on him.

Initially, the name didn't ring a bell until Sansa remembered the latest Whitesnake video and the buxom redhead doing the splits on top of a Jaguar. Just when she thought the blush to her cheeks couldn't get any deeper, Sansa felt a wave of embarrassment hit her.

Measuring her reaction with an amused smile, the man stared up at Sansa. This time it was he who licked his lips.

"Just sayin'. If you ever want to roll around on the hood of my Mustang in a skimpy dress, I wouldn't exactly stop you."

As the man broke into laughter, Sansa shook her head and was surprised to find a small laugh escape her own lips.

"I think I'll pass," she responded. When another silence dragged between them, Sansa fumbled with the sleeves of the jacket, clutching the ends tightly in her palms.

"What's your name?" she asked, wondering if he might be offended she didn't already know. Surely, this gave her away. She wasn't an adoring fan who already knew his name and everything else about him.

Somehow this seemed to strike a chord within him as he looked up at her with another half smile, although there was nothing bawdy about this particular one. Instead, there was a bit of appreciation to it.

"The Hound," he offered, his voice gruff and dark.

"No, your real name," Sansa pushed, assuming he had more than likely given her his stage name.

"My real name doesn't matter, not unless you plan on moaning it later while I'm in top of you."

Immediately, he swiveled his head up towards her, his mouth curled into a devilish smile and contorting his scars in a hideous manner. Initially, all Sansa could do was gasp in response. Why does he have to be so crude?Pouting, Sansa looked away. Why are you still standing out here if he's so crude? The question lingered in her mind, and she didn't quite have the answer.

"I'm sorry. That was really uncalled for," the Hound conceded sincerely. Satisfied with an apology, Sansa took slow steps towards the edge of the staircase and seated herself next to him. Turning a guilty stare towards her, the Hound matched her eyes in earnest.

"I should have been more considerate. If it means that much to you, you can be on top instead."

With her mouth agape and her eyes widening to the size of saucers, Sansa felt a blush creeping down her cheeks and neck towards her chest. He was lewd, and no one had ever talked to her like this before. Unbidden, an image of her straddling him flashed across her mind. Sansa shook her head to erase the thought as quickly as possible. Never would she everdo anything like that with a man like the Hound.

The Hound erupted into loud laughter, clutching his side as confusion pooled on Sansa's face.

"It was a joke," he exhaled, elbowing her gently. The contact between them, brief as it was, caused Sansa's breath to catch in her throat. "Lighten up a bit."

Sighing her relief, although she was still troubled about her previous thought of straddling this man, Sansa settled back a bit and released the tension in her body. Timidly, she extended her hand out to him.

"My name's Sansa," she spoke softly, somehow feeling shy as she let her eyes settle on his.

"Sansa," he repeated as he accepted her hand. She noticed his gaze flickered to her lips momentarily before returning back to her eyes.

"My name's Sandor," he replied, his hand still wrapped around hers. Although his hand was rough, his skin was warm against hers, and the sensation was rather pleasant.

"Nice to meet you, Sandor." His stare had wandered to her lips again, she noticed, as if he had been studying the way his name curled around her tongue and mouth. Maybe he didn't notice, or perhaps he did, but he was still holding her hand.

Behind them, the door busted open, and Sansa abruptly pulled her hand away from the Hound's. A fresh wave of embarrassment hit her as Arya and Gendry stood there, both of their eyes shifting back and forth between Sansa and the Hound. Standing up and brushing off her skirt, Sansa felt as though she had been caught doing something she shouldn't have. All I did was shake his hand…

"There you are! We've been looking all over for you," Arya chided before turning towards the Hound.

"You fucking rocked tonight! I think I have whiplash from all the headbanging I did," Arya beamed rather uncharacteristically. Gendry had fallen silent next to her, apparently star struck by his guitar idol. Now that Sansa thought about it, she vaguely remembered him going on and on about the Hound and the way he could shred on the guitar.

"I…I…wow! You're just…you're like my idol, man," Gendry stammered as the Hound stood up, towering over all three of them.

"Thanks, man. We've got band practice next week if you're interested in stopping by," the Hound responded as he crossed his arms about his broad chest.

Paling and appearing as though he had just seen a flying saucer blaze across the sky, Gendry's mouth fell open as he nodded his head frantically.

"Yes! Jesus titty-fucking Christ, yes! That would be…holy shit…that'd be incredible," Gendry all but shouted. For a moment, Sansa thought he might hug the Hound for how gleeful he was in this moment.

Grasping Arya by the shoulders, Gendry shook her, perhaps a bit too hard as Arya stumbled forward.

"Can I bring my girlfriend too?"

Settling his eyes on Sansa, the Hound smiled.

"As long as she brings her sister."

Turning towards Gendry now, the Hound gave him an address and time before striding back inside, stopping at the door as he swiveled his head over his shoulder and gave Sansa a wink and a smile.


A/N: Thanks for reading! Reviews are most welcome and appreciated :)

I don't know how long this one will be, but I know it won't be as lengthy or heavy as Gods and Monsters. I plan to keep it light and frivolous.