They had to have someone follow them with a truck they had rented back at the shop to carry back all their purchases. They should have seen it coming, truth be told, considering the amount of stuff they were bringing back, and that most of it was actual furniture. Thankfully, Varys was able to provide them with an intern from his office to take of that part of the job. Tyrion could not help but wonder if this was the "leaking" intern who had been so instrumental to his agent's plan so far.
They made their way back to his place, and as they entered, he felt once again extremely self-conscious about what he had done with the place. He was a man, for Pete's sake, home decoration was not his forte and probably never would be. Bronn put down the bags that contained some of the minor purchases, but they needed the big ones to be brought in and built before they could really start on using the simplest ones.
"You said you had something planned for the actual building?" he asked his companion who was busy in his kitchen, fixing up some tea.
She looked so at ease there, opening a few cupboards to find what she needed before getting the kettle to boil the water.
He liked it, if he was honest, and that was one of his worst qualities, or best faults, or whatever, he tried to always be as honest as possible. It got him a reputation for being a jerk, but truth was basic human politeness in his book.
"Which flavor are you brewing?" He asked, forgetting his previous question.
"I thought we could have some Lapsan Souchong, or Jasmine tea. It may be sound a little feminine, but if you let it brew, it develops a strong taste. "
"Did you get your Bachelor's degree in tea?" He joked.
"I studied history and politics, with a minor in psychology, but in England, we call it an undergraduate degree."
"I would have thought you would have gone with something literature related…"
"I thought so too, but when I arrived to enroll, I encountered an old friend of my father who convinced me to take that course. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it. The bonus part was the fact that most of the work could be done online and my teachers were very understanding about my inability to sit in at every class…"
"Do you want to pursue it further?"
"I do not know, quite frankly. I mean, education is amazing, and I feel like I should take advantage of the fact that it is something I can access, but right now, or for the next couple of years, I think I'll focus on my acting career. Besides, I can always go back to literature, if I chose to."
"I went to Julliard, and got a Masters in Fine Arts. It was a good time to be a student. I also did learn some things that ended up being useful, but I will admit I kept going till getting a Masters mostly because of the opportunities it provided I knew I would never get elsewhere, or I would perhaps get, but based on name recognition as my brother and sister were already in the business."
"It is good that you got to do things on your own, on your own terms and more. Did you leave on campus?"
"I did not, but spent as much time there as I could."
"Tea is ready, and I believe our help has arrived," she said as someone rang his doorbell.
He had forgotten he had such a device, given that his apartment was the only one on the floor, but it seemed she had told Bronn or someone else to let whoever was ringing through to his floor.
He went for the door, and opened it, not certain was to expect.
"Hey little man," Tormund said when they were face to face.
"Hey, big scary dude from my nightmares."
The giant punched him on the shoulder, and Tyrion was mighty proud he managed to remain on his feet and not end up rolling across the apartment as the man laughed.
"Sansiona!" He yelled, completely at ease. "I brought you a present!"
"Well, do come in," Tyrion muttered.
He saw the tall red-haired man get out a magazine and all but laugh his ass off as he showed it to his Lady.
"Oh Tormund!" the woman said, before switching quickly to Gaelic.
Tyrion approached and saw the cover of the tabloid. It showed two pictures. One was of them, Sansa and he, along with their agents the morning before as they went in to Tony's office, and the second one was of Sansa laughing with a black-haired man, with her hand on his shoulder as he had his own on her hip.
"What the fuck?"
Trouble in paradise already? Was the title of the shitty thing.
Tyrion grabbed it and read the subtitle, which said: "even though her new squeeze got her a new part in a Thompson movie, Sansa Stark came back to Earth and went for a stroll with this major hottie, a nice break from her hunchback."
"Tyrion," Sansa started.
"I'm reading," he said in his most neutral voice.
He could almost taste the venom on his tongue and had to swallow it to make sure he did not attack her. Why the fuck was he being chaste if she was not?"
He turned the pages, unable to stop himself until he got to the article. He was seething fury and his vision was blurry, making it impossible for him to read the text, but the pictures… Oh they spoke volume alright. He had never seen Sansa so relaxed, so young, carefree… On some pictures, she was messing with her "companion"'s hair, and he wanted to find the closest razor and just shave the whole goddamn mane. On other pictures, the asshole was tickling her. Who the fuck was he? Where had he been raised? 'Cause sure, Tyrion from the crappiest family of them all, but he had been taught that you never went for another man's woman unless she gave signs. Had Sansa given him signs? He was not even that handsome, just borderline pretty, and for Fuck's sake, smaller than she was!
"He doesn't know?" Tormund asked his friend.
"What do you think?" Sansa snapped. "You know how I said I would bring your crush around at your place? You just jeopardized that big time buddy…"
"Who the fuck is this asshole?" Tyrion finally roared.
"Have some tea first," she tried to say.
"Sansa…."
"Drink your bloody tea, you stupid man, or you will regret it. The intern who can't keep his mouth shut is finishing delivering the packages in the spare bedroom, let him leave before you keep this ridiculous scene up."
"Sansa…" He started again.
"I said, drink your freaking tea! Both of you, or you will regret it more than you already will," she said in the softest voice, yet it sent chills down his spine and made him wonder if he had overstepped.
Tormund joined him at the bar and they both sat on stools, the giant looking like a sad puppy, and she poured them each a cup.
He was beyond seething. He was all but foaming at the mouth, and when Bronn made his was through the apartment, showing the intern the door, he tried t give him a sign. Tyrion was too mad to interpret it.
When the door closed, Sansa gestured for them to stay silent until she could hear the elevator coming to pick up the intern. Bronn apparently decided to stay outside for a while.
"As I am the most levelheaded person in this room at this particular moment," she then started, "I'm going to give you one opportunity, just one though, to rephrase your question."
Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Tyrion remembered Theon warning him about this attitude Sansa sometimes used to allow people to walk back their comments, but boy was he not in the mood.
"Who the fuck is this…. Dipshit?" He asked, thrusting the tabloid her way.
She did not even lower her eyes to see the piece of paper, and said, while looking him in the eyes:
"Tormund, go fetch Bronn from the corridor. You guys need to figure out how to possibly just exchange mattresses in the two bedrooms, or maybe have a plan on how to move the bedframes too. You'll do that with the door closed."
The redhaired man looked relieved he got a job that allowed him to leave the room. He went to look for the driver slash bodyguard, and the two of them all but ran into the master bedroom.
"Tyrion, you will never, ever speak to me this way again, you hear me?" She asked calmly.
"You're not answering!"
"And I won't if we don't have a simple agreement on the fact that I, like everybody else, deserve the benefit of the doubt, that we are both in a very messy business where our private lives get distorted to fit whatever narrative anybody deems interesting. You can say you understand, or we can call this charade off right now. I will not stand in the presence of someone who has no respect for me. Once was enough."
"Sansa…"
"I gave you all the benefit of the doubts when that tart kept throwing herself at you at Mr Thompson's office, making sure you could see her bosom and the fact that she was not wearing a bra. I'm quite certain astronauts on Mars got a spectacle from all her pumping her chest and pressing it so tight against her top you'd think she was waiting for a farmer to come and bloody milk her."
Oh, so she caught on Maura's little games…. Of course she did, the chit had been as discrete as… well she hadn't been discrete at all.
"You deserve the benefit of the doubt," he said through gritted teeth, because the thought of her calling off their arrangement here and there made him want to go pick a fight with Tormund, and he did not need a psychology degree to know that was his self-destructive side taking over.
"Thank you."
"But who the…. Hell is he?" He asked again, unsure how much more of this he could stand.
"Tyrion, how many men are there in my life?"
"Well, according to this magazine, at least one too many…"
"What about according to me? I'm listening."
Geeze, the woman would be one fearsome mother one day, frightening her teenage sons into submission. But he was no teenager and she sure as hell was not his late mother.
"According to you, there's Theon, your brother slash agent, Tormund, Ramsay fucking Bolton, your brother Bran.
"Wrong about Ramsay, but you're missing people."
He almost made a very despicable remark, about needing to name her dead relatives, but he had the brains to keep it in.
"Prince Loras too."
"And?"
"Fucking Bronn."
She took a sip of her own tea, and he wondered what she was waiting for. Turned out, she was waiting for him to get his intellect back, he realized, as he said:
"Your brother Jon too."
"I do realize that we never talked about how my family looks like. You know who my mother is, and you probably imagine that we're all red haired, with blue eyes. That would be the signature Tully look. However, my father had grey brownish eyes, and dark hair. I wish I could explain, but of his brood, I am the only one who looks like a Tully, and not a Stark."
Oh God, was this dread he felt in the pit of his stomach? Was it how it felt to know you were wrong, and expect a scolding and get none? He wished she would yell. He knew how to handle people yelling, not people baring their soul to him.
"I must admit one of my biggest wonder about Rickon was how his hair would have turned out. He was always a bit of a mix, blonde as a kid, but when he turned six, his hair started changing, and I know my parents would joke about him becoming a mix between both their hair color."
"The man they're saying you cheated on me with is actually your brother Jon."
"That he is. That he is," she said again, looking far in the distance, as if unsure how to go on.
"How come you did not tell me you had been papped with him yesterday?"
"Probably because I did not know. I also was in complete ignorance of anyone catching our party of four going for my audition. We can expect those pictures to pop elsewhere with people saying I am using you for your connections. I was terrified yesterday afternoon, waiting for an answer about how my reading had gone through. Theon told Jon, as he is staying at his place right now, and Jon showed up announced, and took me out. He forced me to go feed ducks in Central Park. It was as close as being back to Winterfell he could muster in such a short amount of time. As we were in a private part of the Park, near where Brienne lives, I forgot about the paparazzi."
They kept silent, and he wished he could drink his tea, as she was doing, but his stomach felt queasy. He was almost positive he was this close to throwing up.
"Jesus Christ, I'm so sorry Sansa…" He blurted out.
"I told you, you would be," she said, but there was no malice, and even thought she was saying "told you so", it felt like a sad realization.
He felt like he had disappointed her in some major way and had no idea how to fix it.
"I really am sorry. I don't know how to say it more eloquently. My friends often joke that I don't have a jealous bone in my body, and it seemed they were wrong. In fairness to them, even I didn't know it…."
"And we're not even dating."
Why don't you rip out my heart and step all over it? No wait, please do that, maybe it will make me feel less like an ass and it will make you feel vindicated.
"Sure, we're not dating, but Sansa, you really are something, you know? You and I, we're Persephone and Hades. You're the beautiful daughter of Summer, and I'm the ugly bastard who covets what is not his, at least in the media's eyes. They assume you ate the pomegranates seeds, but we're still running in circles, trying to see if you deem it worthy of your precious time… I don't know any of your Scotsmen, except for the one who brought this ignominy in my house, but I can certainly understand why they would have insisted on you being their duchess. I would want you to be mine too."
He was perfectly aware of the several meanings one could find there and had no intention of clearing things up. Let her read what she wanted in it, he knew what he meant.
"Please, don't ever accuse me of doing so hurtful as deceiving you without giving me a chance to explain things. I am not perfect, far from it," she went on. "I can screw things up, but please, trust for a fact that I would never do anything that could hurt you knowingly. You matter too much, to me that is."
"I really am sorry, Sansa…"
"So am I. Now, if you don't want to drink the tea, it's perfectly fine, but I think we should go check on Tormund and Bronn."
He nodded, and took a gulp of his cup, feeling desperate by the fact that he had been missing on some great tea, but it was cold now, and he did not want to make her care for him, especially when he had acted like such a dick.
When they opened the door to the master bedroom, the two men were in a show and tell demo it seemed, showing their tattoos and scars to the others in a way that reminded Tyrion of Lethal Weapon 3, with Mel Gibson and Renee Russo.
"If you guys end up having babies, they will be ugly as fuck," he said.
He heard Sansa chuckle, and it was like it had ripped open the sky, allowing the sun to shine on them once again.
He could see that Tormund wanted to say something, but he was too busy checking on Sansa in Gaelic. Tyrion wondered if there was an app to help him learn it. Otherwise, he could always ask Sansa… But that would not be a good idea, giving his fantasies about a hot student teacher relationship too much fodder….
"Ah ah ah," Bronn answered. "This coming from the guy who has the 'Lovely Days' DVD in his bedroom? Sticks and stones, Tyrion, sticks and stones…."
"Wait, what?" Sansa asked.
He was not blushing, no sir, he was not. Except he probably was. Dammit. When Theon had mentioned the movie and said that he needed to be ready if Sansa ever decided to open up to him about her experience shooting that movie, well he just had to buy it and see it, didn't he? Sure, the four or five or fifteenth extra-viewings had been for research only, and perhaps because Sansa was so amazing as a genius nerd, but he know felt like he would be ready, should she choose to open up.
"So you'll be swapping the bedframes too," Tyrion told the men. Mattresses and all. I like my new bed so much I want it to be my new bed. Chop chop!"
Their two helps started groaning before going to the second bedroom to prepare whatever, and he found himself unable to ignore Sansa's scrutiny.
"Why do you have this movie in your bedroom?" She asked him.
"I just… You'll be the death of me. Theon said something about you maybe sharing something that happened while shooting this movie and I thought I would do research, and may I say, Ramsay Bolton, such a crappy actor…"
She said nothing, did not start sharing, but he figured it would come in due time. However, she smiled lightly, the way she did when she was especially pleased with him, like she was worried that a full-blown smile would blind him. And it probably would. For Fuck's sake I'm so whipped, and not getting any.
It took them all four all afternoon and part of the night, but when they were done, he had a brand new second bedroom which was lovely and everything he had never dreamt it could be. His own bedroom had changed with his new bed. He could not voice out why he had chose to change the whole bed, but part of him was mature enough to know that he was turning a new leaf. The previous bed had been the one which had seen several women in it, some he cared about and other he couldn't remember, but this new bed, well… He did not want to jinx himself or get his hopes up. All he knew was that he really felt like his philandering days were over.
Tormund crashed on his couch as he took a tour of his place, as if rediscovering it. He just loved it. Some of the things that had been meant for the guest bedroom had ended up in his own, and he had no regrets.
"Do you like it, My Lord?" Sansa asked.
All afternoon, they had been joined at the hip, and he had loved it. However, if he had any doubt abut whether or not he was forgiven about his crazy outburst, her using her pet name for him made him feel like he had won her forgiveness, and man, it felt like being reborn.
"More than that. It's perfect. I may have to ask you to redo my bedroom next," he said.
"Shouldn't your next girlfriend do that?"
"You're my current girlfriend who's not my girlfriend and I decide. All in favor of the girlfriend who is not technically my girlfriend getting a say in how I arrange my place, say "yay." Yay. Motion passed with a unanimous consensus."
Another chick would have said something along the lines of 'you're weird', or similar, but she just laughed and made a joke about him needing to get some more parts to be able to pay for all the money she would be spending on his place. He loved it. If he had been tweeting about it, he would have put it in all caps too. He LOVED it.
"We never discussed it before, and of course we would need to run it by Varys and Theon, but my sister Arya, she just turned sixteen," Sansa started.
"Happy birthday to her! Do you want to send her a gift?"
"That would have been lovely, but she turned before we started this thing."
Strange to think three weeks ago, she had not been in his life.
"However, she is now considered an adult when it comes to the fencing competition world, and she will be attending the World Fencing Championship for the first time alongside the regular players. I will be going to cheer her on. Would you like to come? It is of course not a requirement or an obligation, but I was thinking, since you don't know what my siblings look like…"
"I'd be delighted," he cut her off, feeling blessed she was offering to spend more time with him.
"I'll talk to Theon about it then…"
"Tony may want to start shooting a smidge earlier than planned," he said, remembering he had told his friend he would see how the actress reacted to that bit of news. "Instead of starting in three weeks, he's asking everybody to get back at him with a date when they can start."
"I'm available almost right away, at least right after my sister kicks everybody's arse at the championship."
"You are not afraid for her?"
"Nope. Arya will finally meet opponents who can match but not rival her mastery and her craft, and she'll slay them, figuratively speaking of course."
"Don't put too much pressure on her…"
"You clearly have not met my sister yet, but you will soon!"
"Speaking of sisters," he heard himself say. "Mine is having her birthday on Sunday evening. Would you… be my plus one?"
He had never considered attending Cersei's and Jamie's celebration, but there was this new part of him, this part he had never known or experienced, who just wanted to show off his precious girlfriend everywhere. Nobody needed to know she was not his actual girlfriend.
"I'll need to run it by Theon, but if it were just up to me, I'd say yes. Theon needs to have a say, considering the comments your sister made about me all that time ago. He'll know if I should show up or not."
"You definitely should show up, and rub how young and perfect, how talented and humble, and everything she's not in her face. That is just my humble opinion. But of course, run it by your brother."
They sat in silence, on his new bed in the master bedroom, and he was trying to think of ways to invite her to relax, and perhaps, take a nap when she sat straight up and said:
"I'm about to fall asleep, I need to get back home, you should be the one christening your new bed…."
We could christen the bed alright… Shut up, Tyrion, you're being a dick. You're always a dick, mind you, but rein it in, unless you want to be tossed to the curb!
He smiled as if understanding, and walked her back to the living room, where Bronn was waiting to take her home alongside all the trinkets Tyirion had bought for her place.
She kissed his cheek on her way out, and he kissed her hand, before thanking her from the bottom of his heart for her help. Watching her go was both a delight, as her hips swayed as she walked, and a torture, wondering when they would see each other next.
"Tormund," he found himself exclaiming. "I need your help."
"What's up Little man?"
"I need your help."
What felt like hours later, they stood in front of a very big dog who was pregnant and about to give birth.
"Are you sure you want to give Sansa a dog?" Tormund asked him.
I want to give her the world. Where did that come from?
"I really believe I do. Are you sure this is her favorite race of dogs?"
"It's a Northern dog. A Huski will remind her of home. When she was young, her father used to have half a dozen of those."
"How will I know which dog to claim?" The actor asked. "I don't want to fuck up…"
"When the pups are born, you'll come back and meet them after they've opened their eyes. You should know right away which one Sansa will want. If you don't, call me and I'll come and help you pick. Anyway, it will be a couple of months before you can actually gift the puppy to her."
"What are you implying?"
"After the scene I caused today, are you sure you guys will still be together in two months?"
The dreaded question. He had no answer for it, except he had.
"Absolutely."
Sure, it was his hopeful side talking, but come Hell or high water, either he would be giving his Lady a dog worthy of her in two months, or he would end up with a dog of his own too big for his size. The gambler in him was willing to take that bet, and so was the seducer.
"Whatever you say, man. I'll go tell the owner you've decided you want to claim one of the puppies when they're born. You will be asked for a deposit when the mother gives birth."
I could give the deposit now. Shut up Tyrion. No, seriously, shut up.
His heart and he needed to have a discussion, about keeping his crush hidden, otherwise Sansa would dump him faster than something nasty. She was not ready. He could wait. All he had to do, was make her fall in love with him.
Jesus-Christ, why couldn't this be an infatuation? Making her fall in love with imperfect him would be his own world fencing championship.