Shy
By Myriddin

At first, Sansa hadn't quite known what to make of his shyness. Used to the self-assured arrogance of Joffrey and Harry, Jon's nervous fidgeting, blushes and tendency to stutter when she flirted had completely baffled her. But by their third date (a proper sit-down dinner this time, though the coffee meeting and photo exhibit at the art gallery had been very pleasant), she had decided his tentative courtship was incredibly endearing. It was cute to watch him flush all to the tips of his ears anytime she paid him a compliment, to drum his fingers and bite his lip as he gathered the courage to reach for her hand, to render him stammering when she met him at the door when he came to pick her up. It was always worth it to see that shy little smile, to feel his strong, calloused hand curl so gently around hers, to hear him whisper how beautiful she looked with soft, genuine appreciation.

Jon was a perfect gentleman and she couldn't have appreciated it more. He and Robb had been best friends since they were children and Jon had been enough on the periphery to witness the disaster that was Joffrey's cruelty and Harry's infidelity. They seemed to be taking their time, Jon so respectful of her space and comfort, but the problem was…slow was beginning to border on glacial.

Their third date was drawing to a close and they hadn't yet shared a kiss. As Jon walked her to her door, Sansa was beginning to wonder if there was more to it. Just as Jon had been there for her dating history, she had seen his. He had been devastated when his then-fiancee, Ygritte, had left him, and from what Sansa had pieced together from Robb, his dating attempts since then had been less than stellar.

As they paused in the hallway outside her apartment, Sansa turned to her date. He was fidgeting, hands stuffed in his pockets as he stared at the bland gray carpet. The shy glances he kept throwing her way through his lashes were adorable and something clicked in her mind. She hesitated for only a moment, tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear before she took a breath and made her move. "Jon, can I kiss you?"

"Y-yeah."

She stepped closer, tilting her chin up to carefully brush her lips against his. It was the most fragile kiss she had ever experienced, soft and barely tangible. She placed a hand at the back of his neck, letting her fingers lightly tangle in the curls at his nap and Jon took in a sharp breath before he tentatively touched his fingers to her cheek. His mouth opened slightly under hers, a full body shudder coursing through him, and then they were kissing in earnest. Her arms twined around his neck, his own sliding around her waist, and it was only through sheer force of will that Sansa was able to pull away to check his reaction. She dared to open her eyes and consequently met his.

With one kiss, she had managed to break through Jon's infamous reserve. His eyes were glittering with barely restrained emotion, full of dark promise. She shivered, her body's visceral reaction to that promise, making it clear she was very, very wanted, and if she chose to accept, she was going to enjoy every moment of what he had planned.

"Jon, do you want to come in?"