Title: Two Guys, a Girl, and a Coffee Shop

Author: PrettyPoppy

Summary: When Sansa Stark goes out for her morning coffee, the last thing she expects is a run-in with her ex-boyfriend, but with a little help from a handsome stranger, she'll soon forget all about Joffrey Baratheon.

Author's Notes: This fic is dedicated with much appreciation and gratitude to albinokittens300. Although I have spent a good part of the past year writing fanfiction, I haven't actually posted anything since December 2021. albinokittens300 recently posted a week of Sanrion prompts on Tumblr, and one of the prompts from that list, "sharing," inspired this story.


Standing in line at her favorite coffee shop, Sansa Stark felt someone's eyes upon her, and not in a good way. An ominous tingle raced up her spine, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Inhaling a small, fortifying breath, she turned her head to glance over her shoulder and a cold chill flushed the length of her body.

Joffrey Baratheon had just stepped into the coffee shop, his icy blue eyes instantly upon her. Sansa shivered. It had been three months since she'd broken up with Joffrey but seeing him still had a visceral effect on her. When they'd first started dating, she'd thought he was the man of her dreams, but he'd turned out to be her worst nightmare.

Suddenly, Sansa feared what would happen if he tried to approach her. No doubt, he'd do everything he could to torment her, even though they were in a public place.

"That'll be $4.65."

Sansa was startled from her reverie by the voice of the barista behind the counter. She dragged her eyes away from Joffrey, her heart racing, and fished in her purse for her credit card. In her head, she counted the seconds it took to find her card and swipe it, silently wondering if it had given Joffrey enough time to reach her.

Finally, the girl behind the counter handed Sansa her coffee, and she turned numbly away, certain that if she tried to make it to the door, she'd find Joffrey directly in her path.

In a near panic, Sansa headed in the opposite direction, plopping herself down in the first empty seat she saw. She didn't even bother looking at the person already sitting at the table or ask permission to join them.

Sansa lifted her head just enough to glance across the room from beneath lowered lashes. She saw Joffrey just a few feet away, staring at her in the most unsettling way. Sansa hoped that he wouldn't bother her if he thought she was already with someone else, so she quickly turned her attention to the stranger sitting across from her.

The breath hitched in Sansa's throat as the deepest, most captivating pair of dark eyes she had ever seen stared back at her. Her companion was startlingly attractive, his wild curls and the faint scar on his right cheek giving him something of a rugged, mysterious air. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, his blue silk tie loose about his neck, the top button of his shirt undone.

The stranger's lips quirked to one side, and he gave her a quizzical look.

Sansa opened her mouth, and a rush of words poured from her throat. "Is this seat taken?"

He shook his head, suddenly looking rather amused. "It is now."

Sansa was very careful to keep her eyes focused on her companion, despite the fact that Joffrey was still in the coffee shop. She feared that if she looked away for a moment, she'd find him standing beside the table, and the thought terrified her.

"I'm sorry," Sansa said. "I didn't mean to intrude. It's just—" She couldn't quite finish. She didn't know what to say exactly. Her drama with Joffrey was rather personal. Besides, she had no right to drag a stranger into their sordid business.

"No need to explain. I'd much rather share my table with a beautiful woman than with an empty chair."

Sansa smiled slightly. She'd been called beautiful more times than she could count, but there was something about the way this stranger said it that actually made her believe it was true.

"Lemon cake?" the man asked, holding up the small plate before him and offering her a pastry.

Sansa's eyes were instantly drawn to the cake. She bit her bottom lip, feeling guilty for being tempted. What right did she have to take something from a stranger whose day she had already upended?

"Go ahead," he said. "I don't mind sharing. In fact, I shouldn't be eating too much cake anyway. I have to watch my cholesterol."

Sansa was sure he was just being nice, but she wasn't going to argue. She chose one of the lemon cakes and took a bite, moaning in pleasure as its sugary tartness played over her tongue.

"That good, huh?" he asked, a hint of delight in his eyes.

Sansa waited until she had finished to answer. "Lemon cakes are my favorite, and this place has the best lemon cakes in all of King's Landing."

"I couldn't agree more." The man took a sip of his coffee before saying, "I'm Tyrion Lannister, by the way."

"Oh, I'm Sansa Stark," Sansa replied, feeling like a fool for not having introduced herself sooner.

"And are you all right, Sansa Stark? You seem to be in a little bit of distress."

Sansa shifted her gaze from Tyrion to the other side of the room. This time, she found Joffrey sitting alone at another table, a cup of coffee in his hand, his eyes focused intently on her. She fought the urge to shiver as she turned back to Tyrion.

"It's complicated," she answered.

"It usually is."

Sansa bit her bottom lip, finding it difficult not to pour her heart and soul out to this stranger. There was just something so warm, so empathetic, about him. She wanted to confess her every secret even though they'd just met.

"It's my ex-boyfriend," Sansa began by way of explanation. "He walked into the coffee shop just as I was paying for my drink. I kind of panicked when I saw him. I . . . I don't want to talk to him, so I—"

"Took the first available seat you could find."

"Yes, exactly. I hope you don't mind."

"I am always happy to assist a lady," Tyrion said with a gallant bow of his head.

"It shouldn't be for very much longer. Once he leaves, I'll be out of your way. I promise."

Tyrion smiled softly at her, making Sansa feel an unexpected sense of calm.

"There's no rush. I'm not in a hurry, and if I can help you avoid a bad boyfriend and give you some piece of mind, I'm more than happy to do it."

Sansa breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you. Although it wasn't my intention when I first sat down, I think if he sees us together, he might think that I've moved on, and maybe that will keep him away, if nothing else."

"Ah," Tyrion said, inching a little closer in a conspiratorial fashion, "so you want me to be your pretend boyfriend, at least for a little while?"

Sansa blushed fiercely despite her determination to hide her embarrassment. It sounded silly, and yet, that was exactly what she wanted. "I know it's probably too much to ask—"

Tyrion shook his head. "No, not at all. I love a bit of subterfuge, don't you? Besides, I haven't acted since college. This will give me a chance to brush up on my craft."

"Well, if you're sure—"

"I'm sure."

Sansa truly hadn't sat at Tyrion's table with the intention of securing herself a pretend boyfriend, but now that she was there, it seemed like the perfect solution to her problem. She hadn't dated anyone since she'd broken up with Joffrey—she'd been too traumatized after what he'd put her through—and perhaps seeing her with another man was exactly what he needed to realize that he no longer had any power over her.

"So," Sansa said, her heart racing as she asked the question, "if you were my boyfriend, what would you do to make it clear to everyone else in the coffee shop?"

"Well, if I were your boyfriend, first, I'd reach across the table and take your hand, entwining our fingers together like lovers are wont to do."

The very thought sent a tiny thrill up Sansa's spine, and she swallowed the sudden lump that had lodged in her throat. "In that case, I think . . . I think that's exactly what you should do."

The corner of Tyrion's mouth lifted in the hint of a smile, and he put down his coffee cup and took her hand, making Sansa flush warmly all over. As his fingers slid into place against hers, the breath stilled in her lungs and she could do nothing but stare at him in mute wonder.

Joffrey had never been the romantic type. Sansa had fancied him long before he had ever fancied her, and she had been the one to pursue the relationship. She should have seen the signs of his narcissism from the start, but she'd been too infatuated to think clearly. Joffrey had never shown her any tenderness, but Tyrion Lannister was more than making up for that now.

With feather lightness, Tyrion brushed the pad of his thumb against the back of Sansa's hand in slow, comforting circles. "How's that?" he asked, his eyes locked with hers.

Sansa inhaled a shuddering breath, trying to regain control of her faculties. When she was finally capable of speech again, she said, "It's nice. Very nice."

For a moment, they both sat there just staring into each other's eyes, neither one saying a word. Sansa had forgotten all about her coffee and the lemon cake. She'd even forgotten about Joffrey. Suddenly, it seemed that Tyrion Lannister was all that existed in the world. He filled up her senses in a way she had never experienced before.

But Sansa's dreamworld was quickly shattered by an all-too-familiar voice intruding upon the moment.

"What are you doing here, Uncle?"

Sansa flushed cold, tearing her eyes away from Tyrion and looking up to find Joffrey standing beside the table, his eyes focused, not on her, but on her companion.

Tyrion leaned back in his chair in a casual manner, though he refused to let go of her hand. "Ah, Nephew. I should be asking you the same question. I am having coffee with my girlfriend, Sansa. Have you met?"

Sansa's heart nearly stopped at the word nephew. Joffrey had never talked much about his extended family, and even hearing the name Lannister hadn't helped Sansa put two and two together. Sansa knew that Joffrey's grandfather was the head of Lanniscorp, but Joffrey was a Baratheon, so she hadn't made the connection.

Joffrey snorted. "Oh, we've done more than just meet. Why am I not surprised that you're out with my sloppy seconds?"

Tyrion straightened in his chair, his eyes taking on a serious cast for the first time since Sansa had joined him. "That's no way to talk about a lady. Apologize at once."

"I will not. You're not Grandfather. I don't have to do anything you say. If you want to date Sansa Stark, so be it. But I should warn you, Uncle, she's something of a tease. She'll get you all hot and bothered, and then she won't put out. She's not worth the money you'll spend on her."

Tyrion's hand slipped from Sansa's, and he was out of his chair in an instant. It was only then that Sansa realized Tyrion was of below average height. It didn't matter to her in the least, however. In fact, seeing him stand up to a man who was more than a foot taller than him was rather impressive. Although Joffrey was all bluster and bravado, there was a hint of fear in his eyes as he stared down at his uncle.

"Do you want to say that again?" Tyrion challenged, a razor-sharp edge to his voice.

Joffrey bent down and moved in lower so that his face was closer to Tyrion's. "She's a cocktease, and she's not worth a single copper penny."

In a flash, Tyrion slapped Joffrey hard across the face. Sansa gasped, feeling an odd sense of fear and satisfaction as the sound reverberated through the coffee shop. She was vaguely aware of the other patrons watching them, but she was too focused on the scene before her to care what anyone else thought.

Joffrey recoiled in pain and horror, clutching his cheek, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Now, you apologize to the lady at once," Tyrion demanded, "or I'll tell your mother about this. She won't like you maligning Ned Stark's daughter in public. As we speak, there's a deal going through between Lanniscorp and Direwolf Industries. If you foul it up, your mother will have your hide."

Sansa's cheeks heated at the knowledge that Tyrion knew exactly who she was, even though she had never disclosed her connection to the Starks of Winterfell. Clearly, they'd both been dancing on the periphery of each other's lives for some time. They just hadn't met until now.

Joffrey's face mottled with rage, but he turned toward Sansa anyway, finally dropping his hand from his cheek. He looked like a child who'd just been threatened with the strap, and Sansa didn't think she had ever seen anything more satisfying in her life.

"I'm sorry," Joffrey mumbled, the words barely audible even though the coffee shop had gone dead silent.

Tyrion leaned in closer to Joffrey, cupping a hand to his ear in a mock attempt to hear better. "What was that?"

Joffrey's scowl deepened. "I'm sorry." This time his voice was loud enough for the entire shop to hear, and Tyrion was finally satisfied.

"Good," Tyrion said. "Now, take your coffee and get out. Miss Stark and I have a date to finish."

Joffrey turned hateful eyes to his uncle, his whole body seething with pent-up fury. He quickly turned in a huff and stormed out of the shop, pushing the door open so hard that when it swung closed again, it rattled the panes in the window.

Sansa's heart beat furiously as she watched Joffrey go, her innate fear of him still bubbling beneath the surface. It was the warm comfort of Tyrion's hand in hers that finally brought her back to the present moment, and Sansa looked down to find him staring up at her, his soulful eyes full of concern.

"Are you all right?" Tyrion asked, his voice as sweet and soothing as warm honey.

Sansa nodded, and Tyrion let go of her hand, walking around to the other side of the table and taking his seat again.

"I'm sorry," Tyrion said. "You shouldn't have had to witness that."

An unbidden laugh escaped Sansa's throat. "I've never been a fan of violence, but there was something undeniably satisfying about watching Joffrey Baratheon get slapped in the face."

Tyrion chuckled. "He's been in need of a good whipping for a long time. His mother spoils him terribly, gives him whatever he wants. He's never had to deal with consequences before. Maybe next time he'll think before he runs his mouth off. We can only hope."

Sansa took a sip of her coffee, suddenly feeling the need to fortify herself. When she lowered her cup again, she said, "I'm really sorry about all this. I had no idea that Joffrey was your nephew. If I had, I never would have involved you in the first place."

Tyrion shook his head. "There's no need to apologize. We Lannisters really should be better at policing ourselves. It's our fault that Joffrey is as bad as he is, and whatever it was that he put you through—and I'm sure it was bad—I sincerely apologize for it."

"You don't have to do that. Joffrey's responsible for his own behavior, not you."

"You would think that, but the truth is, we're all responsible for the toxic culture in our family. All I can promise you, Miss Stark, is to do better from now on."

"Sansa," she replied, wanting to hear Tyrion say her given name more than anything. "Please, call me Sansa."

Tyrion's mouth curved in a warm smile. "Sansa."

The sound of her name on his lips made Sansa's pulse flutter with excitement. She lamented the fact that they would soon part company and feared that they might never see each other again.

"I want to thank you for what you did for me today," Sansa said, wishing she could take Tyrion's hand again but knowing there was no reason for her to do so. "You'll never know just how much it means to me."

But Tyrion brushed off her thanks with a careless wave of his hand. "There's nothing to thank me for. Slapping Joffrey was immensely satisfying. I should be thanking you for giving me the opportunity to do it."

Sansa didn't know how to respond. Suddenly, she felt the awkwardness of the situation acutely and realized she couldn't linger there forever. "Well, I really should be going. Thank you for the help and for the lemon cake."

Tyrion's smile turned bittersweet. "Of course. My pleasure. And thank you for allowing me to be your fake boyfriend, even if it was only for a little while."

Sansa's heart skipped a beat, and she had the overwhelming urge to ask him to be her boyfriend for more than just a little while. But she knew it was foolish. Tyrion Lannister was quite obviously a very worldly man, older, wiser, and far out of her league. He had done her a favor, that was all. There was nothing more between them. It was all in her head.

"You're welcome," Sansa said softly, wholly out of politeness, the words almost automatic.

Sansa rose from her chair, and Tyrion quickly scrambled to his feet.

"You know," he said, "if you ever have any more trouble with Joffrey, you can give me a call." He fumbled around for something in the inside pocket of his sportscoat. A second later, he pulled out a card holder and offered her his business card.

Sansa took it with numb fingers, struggling to hide her disappointment. She had hoped that he was giving her his number so that they could arrange a real date, not so they could talk about Joffrey.

"Thanks. I will." Sansa smiled wanly before turning around and heading toward the door. Her legs trembled beneath her as she walked, something inside niggling at her to turn back and tell Tyrion exactly what she wanted. It wasn't until Sansa reached the door, until she had it half open, that her fear of never seeing Tyrion again overpowered her fear of embarrassing herself.

Not at all sure what she was doing, Sansa turned on her heel, letting the door swing shut, and walked straight back to Tyrion's table. He was still standing beside it, watching her as she approached.

Sansa stopped a foot away. In a breathless voice, she said, "I know this is going to sound crazy. I know it's probably going to make me sound silly and desperate, but—"

"But you'd like to go on a real date, not a fake one?"

Sansa caught her breath, startled that Tyrion had read her mind. It took all the courage she possessed to answer, "I would. If that's all right with you."

Tyrion smiled broadly, a look of relief washing over his face. "I would love nothing more. I swear, I was praying to every god in the Seven Heavens that you would turn around and come back. I'd be honored if you'd let me take you out to dinner sometime. Tonight, if you're free."

Sansa didn't give it a second thought. "I'm free."

"Then I'll pick you up at eight?"

"I'll text you my address," she said, unable to stop herself from grinning like an idiot. "And I'll see you tonight, Tyrion Lannister."

Sansa whirled around and headed straight for the door without another word, afraid that if she stayed a single moment longer, she might do or say something stupid. With a heartful of hope, Sansa finally left the coffee shop, dreaming about the night ahead.