Wow! Now that was fun to write! :D It's my first modern AU ever and I really enjoyed working on this. This was produced in the context of a game and written way faster than my usual stuff so it's probably not as polished as some of my other stories. Not betaed. Be warned.
The party was in full swing and people were standing in small groups all over Margaery and Loras' apartment, chatting while drinking beer, wine and cocktails. There was an improvised dance floor in the living room and Sansa had spent most of the last hour dancing with Jeyne and other college friends among monsters, vampires, zombies and pirates. It was a great Strangerween party and she was having so much fun, yet her head was starting to spin a little and thus she decided to rest for a while. She headed to the fridge to get herself some of that raspberry vodka and grapefruit juice drink she liked so much. As she was pouring juice over vodka and ice into her glass, she realised the tall stranger with long black hair and a hooked nose she had noticed earlier was right next to her, gazing down at her with interest.
Sansa didn't know him. In fact, it was the first time she'd ever seen him but she was new to King's Landing so it was not really surprising. He had just arrived at the party about a half-hour before and had spent his time peeking in her direction while drinking from the beer bottle he had in hand. Perhaps he likes my costume, Sansa thought, looking down at herself. She had made it herself. It was a pretty accurate replica of a War of the Five Kings era highborn lady's gown and she did look very good in it. All of her friends had told her so.
"Hi," Sansa told him. It wasn't like her to address strangers, for she was usually very shy, but the vodka she had drunk was making her lose her usual inhibition.
"Hi," the man replied, his voice unexpectedly husky. He was very tall, perhaps the tallest man she had ever seen and impressively muscular. It was evident he spent many hours a week at the gym. Unlike the rest of the partygoers, he had not dressed up and was wearing blue jeans with a white tank top which showed off his powerful arms and chest. Sansa discreetly glanced at the solid looking muscles and hair that covered it and then smiled at him. The left side of his face was covered with very gruesome scars. It was quite striking work and she looked at it with curiosity.
"I'm Sansa. What's your name?" she asked, turning to face him completely.
"Sandor," he rasped, a half-smirk pulling at his lips. It was remarkable how realistically the scars moved with it.
Sandor was clearly at least a decade older than the rest of the crowd who were all college kids like herself and Sansa wondered who might have invited him.
"Are you friend with Loras and Margaery?" she asked him before taking a small sip from her glass.
"I'm the upstairs neighbour. They told me they'd throw a party tonight and that I was welcome if ever I felt like coming. Decided to pass by and have a few beers," he answered nonchalantly.
Sansa nodded and blushed. He was staring so intently at her and she couldn't stop herself from grinning. The vodka was really going to her head. For some reason, that seemed to make him uneasy and his mouth twitched, the false scars on the left side of his face following the skin same as if they had been genuine.
"Your scars, it's quite impressive," Sansa told him. "It's so realistic, I'd have actually believe they were real if I had met you in another context.
The man's mouth twitched again at that, but he gave her a faint, tired smile and said nothing.
"Can I touch them?" she asked, lifting her hand even before he had time to reply.
"'Course, go ahead," he agreed flatly, bowing slightly to help her reach up with more ease.
Sansa delicately stroked her fingers to his face. It really felt like true scar tissue. It was totally amazing to be honest. "Oh!" she let out in awe. "Feels so real! Who made this?"
Sandor let out a wry snort. "My brother."
"He's a makeup artist?" Sansa demanded as she removed her hand from his cheek.
Wincing, Sandor squinted and shook his head all the while barking a short, dry laugh. "No."
For some reason, he didn't seem inclined to continue the conversation and so Sansa didn't inquire further.
"I think I should rejoin my friends now. Come and dance with me later on if you feel like it," she proposed before turning her back to him and walking to where Jeyne and Loras were chatting in another corner of the kitchen.
"Yes, I'll dance with you," she heard him rasp as she left him. She could feel his eyes on her body as she headed away and when she briefly peeked back at him, she caught him glancing at her butt. While she should've been appalled by such boldness, Sansa turned away and smiled to herself, blushing madly.
"So you just made acquaintance with Sandor," Loras remarked as Sansa arrived by his side.
"Yeah I did. Never seen a man so tall and brawny. And with those scars… wow, he's quite fearsome."
"You know they're real?" Loras asked, though it was obvious by the roguish grin he bore he had already guessed she hadn't known.
Sansa's mouth opened in shock. "What?" she squeaked, her eyes grown wide. She could feel the colour draining from her face.
"His scars. They are real," Loras assured her, his grin widening even more. He apparently found her dismay over her blunder extremely amusing.
Horror-struck that she had acted so insensitively, Sansa's gaze instantly darted to where Sandor still stood near the fridge. Having obviously guessed the nature of her conversation with Loras, he smirked at her and winked. How by the Gods will I ever make up for that? she wondered, her heart hammering in her chest, as Sandor began walking her way.