Disclaimer: Nothing's mine, I'm just a poor mad mage.

AN1: Hello and welcome to my Jaime/Sansa one-shot! *waves cheerfully and places this story under the Christmas tree*

Hope

Jaime Lannister believed that his roommates were entirely too good for Westeros. The world simply didn't deserve them. Never mind that the trio of college students had accepted a middle-aged guy into their home without any reservation, each of them was a walking embodiment of good human qualities.

Jaime had had a tiny bit of trouble adapting to their company after he had moved in. They were considerate. They were polite. Sweet, gentle, and good. He hadn't been used to being on the receiving end of anyone's kindness, not anymore. It had been disturbing when Shireen had baked him cookies for the first time or when Pod had offered to help him clean out the remains of Jaime's burnt house. Sansa's matter-of-course approach to mending his clothes had literally left Jaime speechless. He hadn't had any idea that people still did it in this time and age.

He had accepted, of course. Jaime couldn't afford to buy new clothes or rent his own apartment, or actually pay his share of the rent here. He was happy that he could scrape out money to contribute to the food budget, but it wasn't much. Not that his roommates would say anything. They were happy to feed him for the time being but it made Jaime feel like a charity case. Well, he was a charity case, but he didn't need to be reminded of that, did he? His self-respect was dead already, though, so it was just slightly uncomfortable and not totally embarrassing.

He had no idea where Tyrion had found these people, but he quickly realized that he loved them without any reservation and hesitation. It had taken him only two weeks to feel at home with a bunch of kids, and wasn't that saying something about his level of maturity?

"Hey!" called Sansa as she wandered into the living room, her nose buried in a book of poetry. Jaime started, scalded his leg with hot tea, and scooted over to the side so Sansa could flop down next to him, carefully placing the mug on the coffee table. She didn't even lift her eyes off the page as she automatically landed right next to him – with their arms and thighs touching, for goodness sake – and put her feet on the coffee table, nearly knocking over his tea.

He smiled, moved the mug into safety yet again, and focused on Sansa's face. He loved to watch the play of emotions there. She would bite her lip when the text was good, hold her breath when in suspense, lift her eyebrow – usually the left one – if she was surprised, and chuckle loudly when amused.

"Hello to you, too," Jaime said after she finished the poem. "Good read?"

"Oh, very interesting. The author loves the nature of the Far North. I wish I could visit one day, see what's beyond the Wall on my own eyes."

Jaime tilted his head and bent down to read the name of the author. "Aemon Targaryen? Is he related to Jon's girlfriend?"

"He's her great uncle or something." Sansa tore her eyes from the book and smiled at him. "She promised to introduce us next time he's in King's Landing."

"That sounds good." Jaime tried vainly to put some distance between them. Sansa's smiles were dangerous. She was dead drop gorgeous and a little over twenty-two or twenty-three – Jaime was embarrassed that he didn't know exactly – she had left behind the pretty look of a girl and adopted that breathtaking attractiveness of a woman.

Sitting next to her vibrant beauty only served to remind Jaime that he was forty, homeless, and a cripple who was missing not only his right hand but his self-respect and his whole family as well. The only person who was still willing to talk to him was Tyrion, and Tyrion had been the black sheep of the Lannisters long before Jaime's fall from grace.

"Uh-huh," Sansa murmured, sighed, and closed the book, carefully placing it on the table. Then she proceeded to lean against the pillows, somehow managing to end up right next to Jaime, touching him from shoulder to knee. Again.

The Starks in general were rather ignorant of the meaning of personal space. If they liked you, you couldn't get rid of them. Arya, the menace Sansa called a sister, was even going as far as plopping down right on Jaime if he didn't get out of her way, and the Stark brothers tended to sandwich the lone lion on the couch as well.

He swallowed and placed his good hand into his lap. His right arm, he carefully maneuvered behind his head and out of sight. Sansa had never stared at Jaime's stump. He had been injured during a mission and offered an honorable discharge and enough money to drown himself in booze, which he almost had managed once had everything fallen apart.

Jaime had never been a family man. He had taken them for granted, assuming that they'd always be there whenever he returned from his missions and that nothing could ever change that. It hurt to even think their names, especially Tommen and Myrcella. He could deal with disappointing his father so much better than with the pain and hurt he had seen in his children's eyes when the truth had come out. He stopped that train of thought forcefully. He didn't think about his sister, or his father, aunt, and uncle, or his children.

"So, it's almost Christmas," Sansa said casually. She had this uncanny ability to just know when he started to get lost in the past, and she was rather good at distracting him – but it didn't work right now. Jaime didn't like the reminder. Sansa had a large family and her parents were expecting all their children back in the North in two weeks. Pod was also going home when he finished his exams, and Shireen – ever the overachiever – was going back to Storm's End next Friday.

He was going to spend Christmas alone.

Jaime refused to look at her pretty face even as he could feel her eyes on him. Her presence was addictive. When Sansa looked at him, when she sat next to him, Jaime felt like the man he had used to be, like someone who mattered, someone who could look forward into the future and feel… hope.

He was a sucker for pain, there wasn't any other explanation, because hope was the cruelest feeling. He had hoped that his mother would win over cancer, but Joanna Lannister had died when Jaime was just a boy. He had hoped that his father would be proud of him, but nothing he ever did was enough to satisfy the great Tywin Lannister. He had hoped that Cersei would always love him, and that hope had destroyed everything. His sister didn't love him like that anymore, but his whole family had washed their hands of them once they knew. They had sinned against the laws of gods and men alike, but Cersei had their children and her husband's money while Jaime was reliant on the goodwill of three college students. There weren't many jobs a one-handed man could apply to, and without his father's financial support, the only thing Jaime had to his name had been his house.

Now, he couldn't even afford a new pair of socks, and he dared to hope that Sansa Stark would never stop looking at him like he wasn't a complete failure. He even imagined that she might like him back one day. Yeah, who wouldn't like a useless loser who had fathered three children with his own sister?

If only Jaime met Sansa earlier. Where was she twenty years ago? Oh, right, probably making mud cakes with other toddlers.

So, hope was the worst feeling in the world, and just sitting next to her hurt.

"Jaime?"

And now she was touching him, her palm resting so very lightly on his thigh. Jaime blinked, turned to look at her, and felt all air leave his lungs at the stupidly honest concern in her eyes. Sansa's eyes were so different from Cersei's. You could see every emotion reflect in them, and the care she directed at Jaime was such a welcome relief. Sansa cared, and he selfishly never wanted her to stop.

"Yeah?" he forced himself to smile.

"Where were you just now, Jaime?" she asked softly, leaning closer.

"It doesn't matter, Sansa. I wish I could stop thinking, you know? Just turn my brain off." Jaime valiantly managed not to look at her lips and shook his head. A bottle of liquor could do that nicely, or a bullet through the roof of the mouth.

Sansa frowned as if she could hear his dark thoughts, and squeezed his thigh.

Seven fucking hells! Did she have to place her hand so close to his groin?!

"Ah! But I suppose that I'll settle for a good old distraction." Jaime shifted and moved to pull one of the pillows into his lap. The walls in their apartment were unfortunately thin, and finding private moments had been almost impossible with three other people living there.

"Maybe I could help you with that!" Sansa grinned and Jaime did a double-take and glanced at her. His throat was suddenly dry and his only palm felt sweaty as he clenched his hand into a fist. Had he heard her right? Was she suggesting what he thought she was suggesting?

Her face was glowing with excitement – just not that kind he would expect from a woman propositioning to him, and Jaime wanted to hit himself.

"Oh?" he managed to squeeze out.

"As I was saying before you zoned out on me, it's almost Christmas and I was thinking what to get you," she said. That bright enthusiasm gave way to something softer and warmer, and Sansa leaned over him and took hold of his hand. Her eyes were shining in that achingly familiar way Jaime had come to love.

He didn't love her in the same way he loved their other roomies. He liked both Pod and Shireen, they made him feel like he was a normal human being and not a failure like he was their friend and not just some sorry old man who had screwed up his life so much that none of his own family was willing to talk to him.

But Sansa… Gods, Sansa made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Jaime was in love with her, it was that simple. He loved her hopelessly and helplessly. Sansa took his breath away without even knowing how hard he had fallen for her, that there were days when he got up in the morning just because he couldn't bear the idea of her reaction if he did blow his brains out.

Jaime had no intention of ever telling her how essential she had become to his very existence. He couldn't do that to her. She had a bright future ahead of her; a degree in economics and a place in her father's company, a trip to the Far North, far beyond the Wall, meetings with Aemon Targaryen and other acclaimed writers. A homeless cripple hardly fitted in that picture-perfect vision.

"You have done so much for me already," he shook his head, forcing a smile on his lips. "I couldn't… No, I won't accept more. You should return it and buy something nice for your siblings or parents."

He wanted to add a joke, but he had run out of those the moment when his house had burnt down. His roommates were too nice to subject them to all his bitterness, and no one wanted to listen to cynical comments anyway.

"It's not something you can give back, you know," she said, smiling prettily. Then she braced herself against his bicep, putting some of her weight on her hand as she leaned to whisper into his ear. "Don't you know that you can't buy the best things in life, Jaime?"

Jaime had stiffened as soon as she started speaking. Her hand moved from his right arm to his left shoulder, stopping there only briefly, and then she gently placed her palm on his cheek, running the tips of her fingers through his stubble before turning his head toward her.

Sansa's eyes were sparkling, her lips were parted, and there was a little tinge of red on her cheeks. She breathed out softly and wetted her lips, leaning even closer. For one heart-stopping moment, Jaime hoped she was going to kiss him…

Then the doorbell rang and Sansa froze, her eyes widening. The blush spread all over her face and she jumped off the couch. Clearing her throat, she glanced at her watch before hurrying through the door. "I'll get that! Gods, they're early…"

Podrick was either early or late and he usually forgot his keys. Jaime wasn't sure if he wanted to strangle Pod or if he was grateful for the interruption. He doubted he would ever get that close to kissing Sansa… And gods! He wanted to follow her, push her against the wall in the hall and kiss her senseless. But Jaime closed his eyes and let his head fall back, letting out a groan.

He listened as the main door opened and closed, and then to the sound of several pairs of feet walking through the hall. He refused to open his eyes, though, and just adjusted his cushion.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" Jaime heard Sansa asking and it piqued his curiosity. She wouldn't be asking any of their friends so formally.

"I'd like some juice, please."

"Just a glass of water will be fine, Ms. Stark."

He knew those voices. But it couldn't be, could it? Was this Sansa's doing? Her Christmas present? The door to the living room opened fully just as Jaime raised his head. His heart stopped beating in his chest as he waited, transfixed, for them to enter the living room.

Tommen came in first, his golden hair shorter than Jaime remembered, and neatly combed. He was taller, too, all gangly limbs and sheepish smiles as he shuffled forward with his hands jammed in the pockets of his pants.

"Merry Christmas!" he said – a bit too loudly – and turned red, looking over at the other man coming through the door.

Jaime's father walked in as if he owned the apartment, zoning in on Jaime immediately. In a dark suit with a Lannister red tie, Tywin hadn't changed at all, thought Jaime at first, but then he noticed the set of his father's jaw and the expression in his suspiciously bright eyes.

"You look like a vagabond, Jaime," he said gruffly, stopping next to Tommen. His gaze never left Jaime, though, and he drank him in almost greedily, eyes flitting over the younger man and cataloging every tiny detail.

"It's a look I thought I'd try," Jaime answered. He was thinner than he had ever been, his hair was cut short and he hadn't shaved in three days. At forty, he was sure he had more gray in his hair and beard than his father at sixty.

Even though he couldn't breathe properly, Jaime managed to rise from the couch and round the table. Suddenly, he was standing right in front of his father and son and he had no idea what do to, or what to say. He had never hoped to see them let alone speak to them again.

His father wasn't an easy man to love or please, and Jaime had never really tried to be a good son to him. But he loved his father, and he regretted hurting him and spitting at everything Tywin Lannister had done for Jaime and Cersei.

Tommen, on the other hand, was so very easy to adore. His son was good, unlike him, and was currently giving him a brilliant, hopeful look, beaming widely as if Jaime had hung the fucking moon.

But Jaime hadn't even apologized to them. How could he? How did one apologize for ruining the family, and the lives of his own children? What words could possibly be enough?

"I…"

It happened quickly. One moment, Jaime was struggling to find words, and the next, his father pulled him in roughly for a hug, keeping him close. Jaime was too shocked to resist and couldn't believe this was happening. Tywin hadn't been able to even look at Jaime and now his father was there and he was embracing him?

"We thought you dead," Tywin was speaking quietly into Jaime's hair, his voice strained. "I saw the fire on the news, and I couldn't find you. You weren't at any of the homeless shelters, nor in a hospital. You didn't reach out to any of us, or our friends, not even to Cersei. If Ms. Stark hadn't called me…"

"You all made perfectly clear that you didn't want anything to do with me."

Jaime stiffened and pulled away from his father's embrace, but Tywin didn't allow him to go too far. He placed his hands on Jaime's shoulders, forcing him to meet his eyes.

"You are my son, Jaime. Was I furious? Yes. Disappointed? Of course. But nothing will change the fact that I am your father. I will always be your father. We will always be a family."

His eyes stung at those words. He wanted to bury into his father's arms like a small child again and cry his eyes out but Jaime fought to keep a rein on his emotions. He hadn't realized how much he needed to hear that, how much he longed for forgiveness until it was right there, in his grasp.

At that moment, Tommen barreled into them both, sniffing loudly, and pressed his face into Jaime's chest. "I missed you, Uncle Jaime. Please, please, please, don't leave me like Dad and Mom, and Joff and Myrcella!"

"What?!" Alarmed, Jaime pushed Tommen slightly away by the boy's shoulder, mirroring perfectly his father's gesture from moments before, and forced Tommen to look up at him. Robert was dead for three years, but Jaime hadn't heard anything about the rest of the family. "What happened to your siblings and mother? Where are they?"

"No need to be worried," Tywin spoke soothingly, keeping a firm hand on Jaime's shoulder. His arm was also wrapped around Tommen's back. "Joffrey had been caught driving under the influence of hallucinogens and I had him sent into a rehabilitation facility. Myrcella is currently in Sunspear, rather busy with her exams. She will be back in two weeks and I am sure she will want to see you as well. Cersei has…"

His father's lips curled up in distaste and Jaime swallowed hard. Tywin had worn exactly the same look on his face when he had found out about the love affair between Jaime and Cersei. He had no idea what his sister had done this time, but it had made their father livid.

"She has found a man, and is fooling around with him somewhere on the Iron Islands."

She had done what? Jaime's face darkened and he grabbed Tommen's chin and looked into his son's eyes, asking, "Where are you living, then?"

"He's staying with me," said Jaime's father calmly, "And I want you to join him, Jaime. We will navigate this mess as we should have from the beginning, together."

"Oh, yes! Uncle Jaime, come live with us!"

Two months ago, Jaime would have jumped at the opportunity. He hadn't a place to live and he was virtually alone in the world without a single coin to his name. He would have killed for the chance to be with his son, for earning his father's forgiveness. Now?

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He could hear Sansa pottering around in the kitchen to give them privacy. By the sound of it, she was making tea and placing the Christmas sweets she had baked with Shireen just yesterday on a plate.

He didn't have any excuse to see Sansa if he moved out. He'd known her for a few short months. How could he expect her to pull him through the bad days with her mere presence if he didn't live in the same apartment? What would he do? Just call her? And say what? 'Sorry to bother, could you please talk about your books until I don't feel sorry for myself any longer?'

"Jaime?" prompted his father.

"Uncle Jai… hum… Dad? Please?" asked Tommen very softly and Jaime's heart almost burst out of his chest when he heard that. "I would love that."

Maybe Jaime wouldn't have bad days anymore, not with Tommen calling him 'Dad' every morning, and under his father's watchful eyes. Jaime did not doubt that he would be kept busy; his father had always tried to push Jaime to do better. It wasn't enough to just drift through the existence, not in Tywin Lannister's book. The man expected his children to excel in life and was willing to push them hard to do just that. Jaime had hated it as a young man, but he believed that he would benefit from his father's tough love right now.

What was more, his son needed him, and Jaime was done being selfish. This time, Jaime couldn't blink back the tears and he choked out, "Okay, son. I'd love that, too."

Jaime's reward was another bone-crushing hug from the boy and he chuckled and wrapped his arms around Tommen's shoulders. His father placed his hand at the back of Jaime's neck for a moment, and they looked at each other over Tommen's head. Tywin nodded at him in approval, and Jaime felt like he could hope without fear just this once that all was going to be well. He felt almost whole, not so broken and definitely not alone.

He returned the nod and then his father was stepping away from them, clearing his throat and looking for something to do.

The sight make Jaime laugh again and he squeezed his son tighter. Gods knew that Lannister men were bad at dealing with emotions once they reached adulthood.

It seemed that Sansa was attuned to his father's needs as well because she chose that exact moment to come through the door, carrying a loaded tray.

"Ah, Ms. Stark!" his father called out, a slight trace of relief in his voice. "Let me help you with that."

"Thank you, Mr. Lannister." Sansa gave Tywin a grateful smile and allowed him to take the tray from her hands. "I thought we all could use a bite to eat, and it's almost Christmas, so…"

"Oh, are those chocolate truffles?" Tommen abandoned Jaime immediately and peered down at the plate of sweets. "They look yummy, can I have some? And I really like your sweater, Ms. Stark!"

"Of course! They're meant to be eaten, so help yourself, Tommen," Sansa let out a short peal of laughter and gestured for Tommen to take one. "And thank you, that's very nice of you to say."

"Tommen, don't think for a second you can flatter Ms. Stark into letting you eat all of the truffles," said Jaime's father curtly but his lips were turned upward and he gave Sansa a wink. He gave her a long look, placed the tray on the coffee table, and said, "Though I must say that sweater is rather fetching. Latest fashion in the North?"

"Oh, yes, we are very fond of reindeers in the North, Mr. Lannister. But please, both of you, call me Sansa."

"I'd be honored if only you called me Tywin," said his father easily and moved to shake Sansa's hand just as Tommen attacked the truffles with gusto.

Jaime pouted at the sight of his father flirting with Sansa. He also couldn't believe that it was the youngest Lannister in the room who had complimented a woman in their presence first.

"Let me see!" He tilted his head to the side and slowly inspected Sansa's person. She stood still, tilting her chin slightly up and striking a ridiculous pose. "They're right, Sansa! It's a… uh… cute sweater. You look very Christmassy."

She hadn't worn the sweater before his family came to visit. It was too big on her, and of a bright Lannister red color with dancing reindeers stitched over the front. They even had little jingle bells attached to their antlers that tinkled with Sansa's every move.

"Oh, Jaime, I'm glad you like it!" Sansa grinned at him widely and then proceeded to pull the sweater off, offering it to him. "Because it's yours!"

"You're joking." Jaime refused to take it, grinning, and placed his good hand behind his back. "That's the present you were talking about? A reindeer sweater with jingle bells?"

"You just said you liked it…"

"I was being polite Sansa! I'm not going to wear that thing, ever."

"Can I have it, then?" asked Tommen eagerly.

"No, it'll be too large on you… I'll have it," offered his father seriously. Jaime had honestly forgotten that his father and son were in the same room with them, and snapped his eyes to the older man, frowning.

Tywin stood up from the couch and reached for the sweater. "What a lovely gift, Sansa. It looks very warm. Perhaps I could wear it when I visit the North. I own a nice hunting lodge near the Godswood. I believe that it's located close to Winterfell."

"Oh, that lodge is your?" Sansa smiled and shook her head. "Then we're practically neighbors, Tywin."

"What a happy coincidence! I was thinking about spending the holidays up there, perhaps we could…"

"On second thought, I'll take it!" Jaime snagged the sweater from his father's hands, ignoring the knowing glint in his eyes, and pulled it over his head. He adjusted it to the sound of tinkling little bells. "How do I look?"

"Like you're ready to visit the North." Sansa eyed him seriously. Then her whole expression crumpled and she let out a giggle. "I got the right size! It's looking good on you."

"I'd like to spend Christmas in the North, Dad!" proclaimed Tommen hopefully. "We could visit you, Sansa! Grandpa, please, can we go to the lodge?"

"That idea has some merit, Tommen. But we wouldn't want to impose on you, Sansa. You've done enough for us already, looking after my son all these weeks."

"Oh, I'd love to see you over Christmas."

Sansa and his father moved to sit on the couch next to Tommen and left Jaime standing there, gaping at them. And Jaime was what? Invisible? First, his father flirted with Sansa, then he attempted to steal Jaime's Christmas gift, and now he was getting an invitation to visit Sansa in Winterfell? Jaime knew Sansa the longest. Just what did his father think he was doing?

"I hope I'm included in that invitation!" Jaime said loudly and took the last spot on the couch, which thankfully happened to be next to Sansa. "I'm the only one properly geared for such a dangerous expedition."

"Dangerous expedition?"

"Of course! Isn't Winterfell the home to northern wolves?"

"Are you afraid to brave the wolf's lair? I'd suggest bringing some bribes to distract the pack, then." Sansa's eyes were bright and she was smiling at him.

"Will do. I'm pretty sure I have their fashion sense down." Jaime tugged at the sweater, grinning at her. Then he grew serious and gathering his courage, he reached for her hand. "But are you sure you wouldn't mind a visit from us?"

"I will always be happy to see you." Sansa's voice was soft and she interlocked their fingers slowly. The smile she offered him was now gentle and inviting. Her whole soul shone through her eyes, and it was like looking into the beauty of the sun itself. Only the presence of his father and son, who were not so subtly listening in to their conversation, was stopping Jaime from kissing her. But he was patient, and he could wait for that kiss until they were alone.

Jaime returned the smile, for now, tightening the hold on her hand. She had been right. You couldn't buy the best things in life – they had to be given freely, and Sansa had just given him the most wonderful of gifts. And no, he wasn't talking about the sweater with dancing reindeers, though he was sure it was going to become his favorite.

AN2: So, I was in a sore need of tooth-rotting fluff and because it's December, here we are. I hope it made you smile because that would be the best gift for me! I plan a series of Christmassy one-shots with my favorite couples, so stay tuned. The world is crazy out there, so be careful, stay safe, and take care of yourselves and your loved ones.

Love, Mad Mage