A/N: So this one is another modern AU, but it's when Sandor and Sansa are teenagers. The story's pretty self-explanatory. I have no idea why this idea came to me, but it did, and I like how it turned out, so I hope you enjoy it too. Thank you to magnus374 for reviewing 'Flinch' and to Marcela for reviewing both that and 'Paper Faces'. Feedback is always great.

Disclaimer: A Song of Ice and Fire and all its characters belong to George R. R. Martin

Rating: T for mild language and suggestive content

"So, Sansa...is it true?"

The birthday girl looked up from the sliver of cake on her lap and raised an eyebrow at her friend Mya who sat beside her. "Is what true?"

When she didn't answer right away, Myranda Royce spoke up through a mouthful of cake. "You know, Sans. 'Sweet sixteen and never been kissed'!"

At that, Sansa dropped her gaze to her plate and tried to ignore the blush she knew was quickly rising to her cheeks. As she nodded, she tried desperately not to think about how she had spent last night, and to avoid the heavy gaze that she could practically feel from across the circle.

The other girls present let out sounds of pity and disbelief at her affirmative gesture and Myranda was again the one to speak up, shoving her cake across the floor and drawing something from her seemingly bottomless purse.

"Well then it's a good thing I brought this with me!"

Sansa lifted her eyes to the item in her hand and her blush deepened further when she saw that it was a large wine bottle.

"Come on, Randa," Robb chided from his spot on the couch with his girlfriend Jeyne, as far away from the festivities as he could get while remaining within view of the television. "Don't embarrass her any more than you already have."

The troublemaker pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't be a spoilsport Robb. Just for that, you and Jeyne have to join now too."

His soft-spoken girlfriend gave him an unveiled glare to reveal her thoughts on his involvement in the matter, but she allowed him to guide her over to the circle that the younger teens had formed on the carpet with minimal complaint.

Margaery and Mya clapped gleefully as the impromptu game of Spin the Bottle grew, Sansa took a calming sip from her cup of punch, and Arya just snorted in disbelief.

"I'll start," Myranda offered, settling the contraband bottle in the middle of the circle and giving it a twirl. It spun a bit sluggishly on the carpet, but managed to make a full turn before settling on Theon. The older boy didn't seem to mind the outcome and scooted across the circle to place a loud, theatric kiss on Myranda's gaudy red lips. Both were grinning when he pulled away and Sansa's friend passed the bottle to her right: Mya.

Sighing, she spun it and gave Robb a slight shrug when it pointed to him, moving to her knees to shuffle over and kiss him on the cheek.

"That wasn't a kiss, Mya..." Margaery Tyrell complained, pouting exaggeratedly.

The other girl just shrugged again and gestured toward Jeyne. "Not my fault I got the one who's already taken."

The grumble at her response faded when the bottle was passed to Sansa, and the pretty redhead was finally forced to look around the circle and meet the expectant gazes that fell on her. Unfortunately, she stalled for a few seconds too long, and Myranda gasped suddenly.

"Ooh! I have an idea. Since you're the last one of us to turn sixteen, besides Arya of course, and you still haven't kissed before, I say we make you do Seven Minutes in Heaven."

Sansa's expression turned to one of panic when her guests, even Arya and Robb, sounded their approval. "What's that?" she asked timidly.

Margaery and Myranda exchanged a glance and the former offered an explanation to their innocent friend. "Whoever it lands on has to go with you into that closet over there," she gestured toward the pantry off of the kitchen, "and you have to stay in there for seven minutes..."

When Sansa stared at her in disbelief and horror, Myranda added helpfully, "kissing the whole time."

Sansa looked desperately around the circle for anyone who would stick up for her, but she was only met with looks of excitement, boredom, amusement, or in one case, barely repressed anger.

"I don't think—"

Margaery rolled her eyes and tossed her curly brown hair over one shoulder. "Come on Sansa, don't be such a prude."

Though she said it teasingly, the words cut deep and Sansa took a deep breath before firmly gripping the bottle and setting it in the middle of the circle, her teeth clenched when she responded. "Fine."

She could swear that time stopped as the bottle made its way around the circle. It spun past Myranda and Mya, who looked at her expectantly, past Margaery, who had a pretty but conniving smile on her face, past Arya and a friend of hers who Sansa didn't really know, past Robb, who gave her a look of half-hearted sympathy, past Jeyne who actually did look remorseful, past Theon, who looked far too excited for anyone's good, and finally landed heavily, pointing at the socked feet of Sandor Clegane.

Her eyes met his and Sansa could feel her face grow hot. To her left, Arya cleared her throat loudly and gave Sansa a pointed look, and she was forced to face what she was hoping she could've avoided until all of her guests were gone.

Sandor was older than Sansa and her friends, a freshman in college, and a friend of Arya's from the boxing club where she worked out every morning before school. When they had first met, Sansa had found him abrasive and offensive, but with time, she had been exposed to his softer side, the side that called her 'little bird' and wiped away her tears when she didn't get asked to prom by Joffrey Baratheon. The side that she had gradually fallen in love with.

The summer before he left for college, the inevitable finally happened and they found themselves pressed against each other in the foyer of the Stark mansion, lips locked and hands roaming to places they probably shouldn't have. It had been an easy step from there to dating, though they had agreed to keep their relationship a secret. Eddard Stark was fiercely protective of his daughters, and though he liked Sandor as a friend of Arya's, they doubted that he would be equally liked as the older and far more experienced boyfriend of his pure and innocent elder daughter.

Arya had only found out a few weeks before, when he had returned home for Thanksgiving break. Ned and Catelyn had been out at some function, and for once, all the other Stark children had been preoccupied elsewhere as well. Naturally, they had made the most of the situation, and both had been thoroughly appalled when Arya had flung the door open, equally mortified by the sight of Sandor and Sansa...'studying'...on her bed. In return for her silence, Sansa had agreed to do Arya's chores for the next three months in addition to her own, a fact which she was now not so subtly reminding her older sister of.

It felt as though a lifetime passed before Margaery spoke up again. "Well then, go on Clegane, show her how it's done."

He stood up to his full height of a menacing six foot six and glowered down at the giggling teenage girls. "Shut the hell up, Tyrell."

Sansa's two best friends were far too amused that she would have to have her 'first kiss' with the scarred and scowling younger Clegane brother to chastise him for his language, and it was their mirth that kept them just distracted enough to not notice when Sandor's hand closed protectively over Sansa's as she stood and walked with him toward the kitchen pantry.

Her cheeks were flaming when she glanced over her shoulder, but her friends cheered her on, whooping loudly when Sandor yanked her inside and slammed the door behind them.

Sansa was breathing heavily as she flew into the pantry and landed with a thud against the shelves that lined the walls, her heart racing. She could feel Sandor's warm breath against her face as he looked down at her, but it wasn't until her eyes had adjusted to the darkness that she saw the look of amusement on his face.

She huffed indignantly and crossed her arms over her chest. "This isn't funny, Sandor."

He chuckled and brought a hand to gently cradle her cheek, turning her face up to his. "Sure it is, little bird. Those girls out there think they're so clever making you do this. Well..." He leaned down and she shivered when his lips ghosted across her neck. "Joke's on them."

She let out a nervous but delighted giggle. It was kind of funny if she thought about it that way.

Before she could do much more thinking, Sandor's arms were around her waist, lifting her up to sit on the counter that ran below the shelves and capturing her lips in a deep kiss. She sighed happily at the familiar sensation of his tongue exploring her mouth and his hands roaming across her body and she wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him towards her.

He let out a grunt of surprise when he felt his hips collide with hers and Sansa felt her pulse quicken when his eyes darkened. Without warning, he bucked against her, earning a gasp as Sansa's hands flew up to grab something, clumsily gripping the edge of one of the shelves and knocking a few boxes onto the floor.

They could hear a brief swell of conversation from the other side of the door at the racket and Sansa froze in fear of discovery as Sandor pulled her into a hungry kiss.

"Don't worry about them, little bird," he murmured, pulling away to pepper kisses along the line of her jaw. She nodded, jostling his head from its spot beneath her chin. He moved back and looked down at her for a moment, his thumb stroking the curve of her neck.

"Did I tell you how beautiful you look in that dress, little bird?"

She smiled shyly and shook her head, tugging him back down to her with a hand around his neck. It was just as their lips touched again that the door flew open and they jerked apart, Sandor swearing viciously and Sansa blushing the color of her hair. In the doorway stood a grinning Arya, the foreign exchange student she had befriended being pulled behind her, a somewhat embarrassed look on his face.

"Go on, get outta here," the younger Stark said far too cheerfully, nudging her friend into the pantry. "It's our turn."

Glaring at his girlfriend's little sister, Sandor stormed out into the kitchen, and Sansa meekly followed, stopped only by a hand on her elbow as Arya leaned toward her with a growing smirk. "Your guests are dying to talk to you..."