Notes: One shot!

This song was stuck in my head, so I had to do something about it! lol

Jon is being a potato, Sansa likes dancing... You can figure out the rest ;)

Jon Snow was a simple guy; he didn't need much to be content. He loved his job, his apartment, his dog and the friends he had.

He was perfectly happy to stay home and watch a movie or football, but he was also fine with meeting his friends on a pub for a pint.

Probably this simplicity was the reason for Jon's calm. Now, he was no pushover, but he was the type of man that acted with calm and restrain on most situations. Jon's self-control was legendary. He never started a fight, and he didn't encourage them. He was the guy asking everyone to calm the fuck down.

However, Jon felt like his self-control was close to over and done with.

The reason?

Sansa Fucking Stark.

Now, on his normal days, Jon could take a deep breath and explain the story calmly: he was best friends with Sansa's older brother; Robb. He practically grew up inside the Stark's house, and he had a great relationship with the younger kids as well.

Not Sansa, though.

She'd been aloof even as a little girl. By the time she hit high school, she was way to cool to hang around most guys, especially awkward loners like Jon. She was a bit of a bitch back then, but it was okay. Jon had been annoyingly emo during those years and Bran had been half vegetarian. Things are weird during high school.

After he moved from Winterfell he didn't expect to see Sansa all that much. She'd moved to King's Landing to pursue a life of glamour and Jon was -as stated before -a simple person.

He kept in touch with Robb, Bran and Arya, and time passed.

Then, one day, he was talking to Robb about his flatmate Sam, who'd married and left him all alone with rent.

That was when Robb had uttered the fatidic words; "You're looking for a flatmate? Would you live with Sansa?"

Apparently, she'd had some kind of problem in the South and was moving away from it.

(It took Jon three months, but eventually he managed to get the story from her, and it took all of his self-control not to go South and kill Joffrey.)

At the time Jon had been unable to say "no". It was Sansa, Robb's precious little sister. Sure, they'd never been close when they were young, but he could remember the sweet girl that would occasionally ask him to play with her and her Barbies, or steal her a lemon cake from the kitchen, because he could reach the counter and she couldn't.

Of course, he'd said "yes", even though he was a bit fearful of this arrangement.

At the beginning, it was… Hard. Sansa wasn't the girl he remembered; she was quieter, closed off, even a bit scared.

Even though she was his flatmate and they shared every single bill, she acted like she was a guest around the apartment; asking permission to do everything, even painting the walls of her own room.

Jon learned he had to be careful with her. Some days, when he was really tired from work, and she'd come around asking if she could use the blender, he almost wanted to snap at her and say of course she could, she lived there!

But he could see it in her eyes: she was scared that this was exactly what he'd do. Because that was what she'd been living with: an abusive person. She was healing, and Jon snapping at her over something like that, just because he was tired, would be the worst thing possible. So Jon was patient and calm with her until she started to feel more and more comfortable.

Which brings Jon back to his quickly fraying self-control.

After seven months living together -yes, seven months – they'd become friends. Very good friends, actually. They had rituals -footballs matches with beer and Chinese food every Thursday. They talked about anything and everything. Sansa teased Jon about his glasses and he teased her about her strange fixation with unicorns. She cuddled and spoiled Ghost so much, the huge dog was starting to think he was a lap dog.

He'd stopped cringing when he saw a tampon box and started making her hot chocolate when she was on her period -she had terrible cramps. She fixed the buttons of his shirts, and mended that one ancient t-shirt he insisted on keeping around.

They cooked dinner together, watched tv together, went grocery shopping together… They were nauseatingly domestic -Theon's words.

And some might ask, "What's wrong with that?"

Well, many things, actually.

And it wasn't the tampons or the unicorns, or even the dozen coats by the entrance door. Nope. It was the dancing. And the shorts.

Mostly the shorts.

The thing was: once Sansa became more comfortable around the house, he'd see her humming and singing along songs that were in her head. Then she started dancing.

And Sansa Stark didn't do silly, half-assed dances. Oh no. Even her little dances around the houses were…

Jon would rather not think about the word. It'd only make it worse.

Then, there were the shorts. Sansa had a bunch of those. They were really short shorts. Or maybe her legs were just that long.

And the combination of shorts and dancing?

Yes, Jon was in trouble.

If it was only that -the fact that she was too hot to handle -maybe Jon's self-control would be fine; but it wasn't. Sansa was whip smart, amazingly kind and sweet. She had a secret dorky side that was cute as hell. Her smile could light up the room and Jon was helpless every time he saw it.

He as fucking whipped.

The thing was… This was Sansa; Robb's precious little sister. She was also his flatmate and friend. He might be crazy about her -not just the shorts and the dancing, but her -but some things weren't meant to be and he was fine with that.

He was.

Really.

Ed Sheeran ruined his life.

Well… Actually, Jon wasn't so sure about that. He had a love-hate relationship with that fucking song and how much Sansa loved it.

Pros: Sansa dancing to it.

Cons: Sansa dancing to it.

There were no winners on this. Much less Jon himself.

Sure, perhaps he was being over dramatic, but it'd been weeks! He just wanted to find Ed Sheeran and punch him for that song.

Or maybe give him a hug.

Jon was still deciding.

"Hey, Jon."

He smiled when he saw Sansa sitting on the couch, painting her toe nails electric blue; Ghost was dutifully guarding her from his position on the floor. Then Jon noticed the shorts. Those were the purple denim ones; they had silver stars on the back pockets.

He was going straight to hell.

"Hey, San."

"Listen…" She paused to check her work, before turning fully to him. "Marge is giving a barbecue on Saturday. Do you wanna come?"

Jon groaned. Margaery's idea of barbecue involved copious amounts of alcohol, a DJ and -likely -the police eventually coming to end it.

He was way too old for this.

"I know." Sansa giggled upon seeing his face. "I know it's not your thing, but Harry's going to be there and I'd appreciate the help."

Harry was a wanker that Margaery had introduced to Sansa, in hopes they'd date. Jon had secretly hoped the whole time they wouldn't.

They hadn't, but apparently Harry hadn't gotten the message that Sansa wasn't interested, because the prick always tried to corner her when they were in the same place.

"So now I'm your body-guard?" Jon grinned at her.

"Jon, please!" Sansa whined. "I want to go, but he's so annoying…"

"Ok, ok." Jon surrendered -he already knew he would. "I'll go."

Sansa squealed in delight.

It was just a barbecue. What was the worst it could happen?

xXx

Good Lord, Margaery Tyrell was fucking insane!

That sure as fuck wasn't a barbecue. It was a rave!

There was a DJ alright. ON A STAGE! There was also a bonfire -in the middle of the day -and a lot of alcohol.

No barbecue was to be seen there.

Jon had stuck around Sansa -probably looking like a lost puppy or a stupid boyfriend.

Harry Hardyng was as idiotic as his name suggested, and he'd tried to talk to Sansa more than once. She'd tried everything to get rid of him; from being polite to just plain telling him to fuck off, but it still took Jon and Margaery interfering for the guy to finally get a clue.

After that Jon managed to enjoy himself a bit, mostly because he got to dance a bit with Sansa.

He'd had a few beers, so he was relaxed and happy as they got a taxi to go home. Sansa, however, had drunk a bit more than he had. She was a mass of giggles and was stumbling around a bit, until they finally got to their apartment.

"I'm gonna hate that DJ forever." She proclaimed dramatically, kicking her shoes off and dropping her jacket on the couch, before sitting down.

Ghost came out from whatever he was and jumped on the couch -which he was forbidden of doing -and dropped his front legs on Sansa's lap.

Jon chuckled. She'd been complaining about the poor sod for the last hour. He'd dared to play some strange remix of her beloved song, and Sansa couldn't get over his insolence.

Jon tried not to let her see his amusement, or she'd be a very Unhappy Drunken Sansa and he liked Happy Drunken Sansa. She was adorable.

"It wasn't that bad." Jon offered easily.

Sansa snorted. "Not that bad? Jon, 'Shape of You' is a masterpiece! You can't touch a masterpiece!"

Jon considered saying it was an exaggeration to call that song a masterpiece, but he let this one go, for the sake of their friendship.

"I couldn't even dance to that." She was still ranting about it, pouting as she petted Ghost. "The rhythm was all wrong."

Jon couldn't hold back his snort at that, because she'd complained about it, but she'd danced anyway. "Couldn't dance?"

"Not properly." She insisted.

"You should send him a formal complaint by e-mail." He teased.

She narrowed her eyes, like she was trying to figure out if he was making fun of her. "Maybe I will." She told him defiantly.

"Tomorrow." Jon suggested with a grin. "Now you should go to sleep."

"No way!" She got up suddenly and grabbed her bag, pulling her mobile out. "I'm not sleeping until I listen the real song!"

Jon sighed. It wasn't actually late; they'd spent the afternoon there and decided to leave as it got dark, but Sansa had been yawing -drinking sometimes made her sleepy -so he had -foolishly -assumed she'd want to go to bed.

Apparently sleep wasn't an option when someone disgraced an Ed Sheeran's song.

She put her mobile on the dock on their mantle, and the familiar beat was playing on the speakers seconds after.

That was Jon's cue to leave. She was wearing the jeans shorts -the one with fraying ends -and her hair was on a braid, and… Well, Jon was just a guy pathetically in love with a girl.

He had his limits.

"Well, enjoy yourself." He mumbled, already preparing to leave.

"No!" She grabbed his hand. "Dance with me."

"Sansa…" Jon groaned, but he let her pull him closer -he was an idiot. "You know I don't dance."

"You do." She insisted. "You danced with me today."

He kinda had, but he'd mostly stayed by her side moving awkwardly.

This was different. She was pulling him by the shirt and they were almost chest to chest. She was singing along the lyrics, putting Jon's hand on her waist, her forehead leaning against his.

Jon wasn't sure if this was Hell or Heaven.

It kind of felt like one of those dreams he had, where Sansa told him she was in love with him, then when they kissed Ned and Robb would appear with shotguns.

He'd had this one a few times, actually.

However, her hands were on his shoulders, and she was moving with the music, and Jon was pretty sure this was, in reality, Heaven.

He wasn't a dancer, by any measure, but even he could pull some moves every once in a while. He twirled Sansa around -she let out a delighted gasp -then pulled her back to him.

This time, when she came, she didn't let any space between them. She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her whole body against his. And by her whole body, Jon meant all of it; even her hips were flush against his, their legs kind of tangled as they kept moving.

Jon would probably have to move her, or she was going to feel the effect she had on him, and this would be awkward and she wouldn't talk to him anymore and…

He felt her nose gently brushing against his, and he looked at her just to see that her eyes were already prepared to lock on his. They were basically the same height, so it was terribly easy to get lost on her blue eyes.

"Jon?" She called so softly it was almost lost to the music.

"Yes?" He asked, his throat dry, his voice husky.

"Are you going to kiss me or what?" She asked, her breath fanning against his mouth.

He didn't need to be asked twice. He'd been so damn controlled this whole time, but her words broke the dam.

So sure, maybe he should've reflected a bit more about the request, but the words had barely left her lips and he was kissing her, like he'd been dreaming of for the last months.

It actually felt like he'd waited an eternity for this moment.

He let one of his hands sink into her glorious hair, like he'd been longing to do for a while now. It felt like silk between his fingers and he wanted to undo her braid and muss her hair up.

However, he also wanted to keep kissing her forever. Jon felt her fingers also grasping his hair and he growled into her mouth. She apparently enjoyed the sound, because she kissed him even harder.

He felt dizzy with the way she bit his lips, and the way she smelled, and her sweet moans against his mouth.

It was a torture to stop it, but he had to.

As much as he'd love to stay there, kissing her forever, he needed to be sure. He needed to know this wasn't just a drunk escaped, that she wouldn't regret it in the morning.

He wanted to know if she wanted him the same way he did her.

"Sansa, wait." He stopped her, pushing her away gently.

The look in her eyes, her red lips, almost made him regret it immediately, but he wanted them to be sure, he wanted them to be on the same page.

"What?" She asked, completely confused.

"Why…" He started, then stopped and tried again. "When… How did we…"

Sansa looked like she was trying not to laugh at his discomfort. "Do you have a question?" She teased.

"I just… Never expected that you would… Want to…"

"Kiss you?" She touched his chin gently. "Because I've been thinking about it for a while now."

"You have?" Jon should feel ashamed of how needy he sounded right now, but he couldn't. Not when she was smiling like that.

"I have." She assured him.

Jon noticed -finally -that his arms were still around her, and she was still so entwined to him. He didn't want to put space between them, so he didn't.

"I've thought about it every time you were sweet to me, every time you kissed my forehead before going to sleep, all those times you got me chocolate because I was feeling bad…" She rested her forehead against his. "I wanted to kiss you every time you smiled at me, and those times you hugged me…" She grinned at him. "And every time you were shirtless. Though… I'm pretty sure I didn't want just to kiss you then…"

"Sansa…" Jon groaned.

"Licking was probably more what I had in…"

Jon cut her off with a kiss.

When they parted again Sansa was breathless and her face was red and Jon had never seen a more beautiful thing in his life.

"So…" Sansa took a deep breath. "We're good?"

If they were good? Jon was fucking floating.

"We're good." He told her gently, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "We're great."

"So you were really looking at my arse all those times I was dancing." She teased.

"You…"

"I'm not blind, Jon." She rolled her eyes.

"It wasn't just that." He felt he needed to reassure her.

"I know." She dropped a quick kiss to his lips. "I know it's not."

"So…"

"So…" She dragged the word playfully.

"Kissing?" He offered easily.

"To start." She agreed. "Later we can talk about the licking."

Jon groaned before kissing her again.

He should send Ed Sheeran a fruit basket or something.

Best song ever.

Notes: I hope you guys enjoyed it!

Let me know your feelings!