This one goes out to DeathbyMonkees: I too cannot wait for them to get down to business : ) So much so that I kind of am starting to hate all the chapters that are coming before that! But I know character development is important…damnit.

He dreamt that night.

He had her pressed against the wall again, thrusting towards her as his fingers moved in and out of her. She screamed as she came again, screamed his name. How he loved making her smile breathlessly like she was now. Hell, smile at all. In his dreams, he got to do it a lot. There was rarely a time she didn't smile at him.

As he let her down, she adjusted her skirts and leaned up to kiss him. Quickly, as though she did it all the time. Her mouth felt soft and inviting against his. And perfect. Suddenly they heard someone scrambling up the stairs. They didn't have long to wait before a little girl with dark curls came bounding into the room.

"Mommy, mommy! You said we could make lemon cakes in the morning! It's morning! It's morning!"

"Alright Cat, I'll be right down." Sansa said with a laugh, pecking Sandor again. Thank the gods she didn't rush in any sooner.

"No! Daddy has to help too!" the little girl said running over to Sandor and leaping into his arms. "You'll help, won't you Daddy? The new baby loves my cakes." Sandor glanced over to Sansa's stomach that had grown again, now with his child.

"Dunno how much good I'll be, but I'll help" he said while kissing the girl on the forehead.

"Yay!" she squealed while kicking her legs into his sides.

Sandor woke up to his hand laid across Sansa's stomach. She was sitting up with a bemused expression on her face. Oh, how badly he wanted to kiss her like he had in his dream. But he froze when he felt the soft taps coming out of her stomach.

"What the hells is that?" Sansa laughed at his terrified face.

"She kicks, Sandor."

"But…why?"

She shrugged. "Mostly when she hears your voice, actually" she smiled shyly at him. "You were mumbling in your sleep, so she started kicking up a storm."

He huffed as he removed his hand and got out of bed. "Stupid little girl," he mumbled. He wasn't really sure if he meant Sansa or the baby. Sansa let out her own huff and followed him out of bed. Once again she grabbed a hold of his hand and placed it on her belly, this time in a different spot.

"Do you feel that?" This feeling was different—a sort of quick thump, almost a hum, deeper inside of her. Try as he might, he couldn't tear his hand away.

"That's her heart," she said looking directly into his eyes. He looked back at her and couldn't look away from the depths of blue he found there.

"When did you stop fearing my face, girl?" he said in a whisper. She looked puzzled for a moment before shaking her head.

"It wasn't your face I feared." Liar. I saw your revulsion every time, Little Bird. He moved to pull his hand away from her stomach, but she stopped him.

"Your scars are fearsome to behold, but it was your eyes more than anything." He stopped trying to get away now, and just held her gaze. "They were so…sad. And angry. And confused….It was so painful to look at. So I didn't." She hung her head now, as though she had something to be ashamed of.

"Am I not sad and angry anymore?" He asked bitterly. Of course he was. But she gave him another sly grin and shook her head.

"No," she reached up a hand towards his eyes, "your smiles reach your eyes now." She absently traced the lines around there, completely unaware of the effect her touch had on him. Hells girl, this kind of touch is better than what I do for you. She was so damn close again; her belly was almost touching his. He could lean just a little and have his mouth on hers…

A knock at the door interrupted the cloud around their moment. Sansa wrapped a robe around herself as he went to admit the serving maid carrying a tray of porridge for breakfast. Sandor took the opportunity to clear his head. You've had your fingers buried knuckle deep in her, and all you can think about is a kiss?

They sat down at the tiny table and began to eat. Sansa's hands were twitching. Could she really have been telling the truth? Do my scars not scare you anymore? Well, so what? Even if that were true, what happened in dreams won't be coming true. He wasn't good for much else other than fighting. Certainly not holding little girls and promising to make lemon cakes with them. He wasn't fit to be her…husband. Or that baby's father. He was regretting even thinking the words. That ache in his chest was back—the ache of wanting something you couldn't possibly have. Damn her, damn her for putting it back in there when he was trying so hard to stamp it out.

"So what's your plan?" he asked her. She looked up, clearly having been lost in her own thoughts. Once again, she had finished eating far more quickly than he.

"Beg pardon?"

"Eventually that thing is going to be outside of you and kicking for real. What are you planning on doing?"

"I…I don't know." He grunted in his throat.

"She can't afford to have you keep being a stupid little bird."

"I know that!" she snapped at him, a little bit of fire in her eyes.

"Then quit spouting out your little chirps and tell me what you want to do!"

"I'm doing my best!"

"The hell you are!" She stared at him, practically shaking from anger. Before a tear welled in her eye and rolled down her face. She hadn't reached up to angrily wipe it away before the hole in his chest was back. Why do you have to be such a bastard?

"Every night I have one of my fairy tale dreams is a night I don't dream about…" her voice caught before she could finish. But she didn't have to. Somehow, she didn't cry as she continued. "It's taking everything I have to focus on her stupid little kicks instead of what happened in King's Landing." she bit her lip to keep from crying. "I don't have the strength for anything more."

He looked at her for a long time. "Alright."