A/N: So this is a super mundane one-shot based off of The Office, which I'm currently watching with my boyfriend. We just got to season three, but I missed a few episodes of season two because I wasn't 100% focused, so I used the main storyline of season one for the very light plot of this. I also used the sort of documentary style of it for a couple of side conversations with one or both of them outside of the 'plot' context. And for anyone who knows The Office and A Song of Ice and Fire, here are the character equivalents for you: Sandor is Jim, Sansa is Pam, Tyrion is Michael, Loras is Ryan, and Cersei is Dwight. Needless to say, I had fun with this one. Thank you to Mari88, Soi, and magnus347 for reviewing 'Out of the Closet', and I hope you like this one too.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to George R. R. Martin.
Rating: K. Sandor got toned down for this one.
"So, anything interesting happening on your side of the office today?"
Sandor swipes a handful of candy from the jar on Sansa's desk and raises his eyebrow when she looks up, seemingly startled by his silent approach. Upon realizing who it is leaning against her desk, her expression softens and she smiles, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"Not really. Tyrion's practically locked himself in his office so he can try to avoid his meeting with Petyr Baelish," she casts a glance at her watch and adds, "who's apparently on his way down from corporate right now."
Sandor nods thoughtfully, casting a glance at the drawn blinds of their manager's office. "So naturally, that means that Cersei thinks she's in charge now."
"Cersei..." Sansa sighs and tries to think of a way to speak her mind while remaining polite and courteous. "She's..."
"Crazy," Sandor supplies without hesitation. "Certifiably insane, I'm telling you. You should ask her what her position is."
At that, Sansa giggles, and can't help herself. "She's managed to convince herself that Tyrion made her assistant regional manager."
Sandor nods, grinning in amusement. "The little guy hates her with a passion, so we all know what nonsense that is. She's really..." He casts a glance over at the woman beside him and she laughs again, finishing with him. "Assistant to the regional manager."
"So I heard that you got employee of the month last month," Sansa says, changing the subject and returning to the email she was composing. "Congratulations."
"Mm. Yeah. Thanks. Love the new parking spot. The cake that Tyrion ordered was pretty good too. Wish you could've been there to have some and to see me with my plaque." He leans in and lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Not gonna lie, it was pretty impressive."
Sansa laughs and shrugs slightly, typing away. "I see it on the wall every time I walk through the lounge. Besides, I was out with Joffrey. It was our three year anniversary."
Sandor turns, raises his eyebrow and mouths, 'Three years of being engaged.'
"It was really sweet," she continues, oblivious to his opinions on her extended engagement. "He took me out to the new Italian restaurant not far from here. And he got me this." She moves a manicured finger to the line of her sweater and pulls out a diamond necklace.
Sandor looks at it briefly before his eyes move to her face. "Beautiful."
The big man sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. "So this guy, Joffrey Baratheon, he works in the warehouse, but only because Tyrion, our regional manager, is his uncle. I mean, the guy is like," he squints and holds up two fingers, barely even an inch apart. "this big. Can't even lift the boxes. And he and Sansa have been engaged now, for, what did she say? Three years. And he buys her all these little things. A diamond necklace…some new heels…a bouquet of flowers…but he won't just give her what she actually wants: a wedding!"
Realizing that he's raised his voice, he sighs again and presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, rubbing them wearily. "But you know what, if she's happy, then I'm happy."
She blushes and tucks it back under the neckline. "Yeah. But like I said, congratulations. I heard it was because you were our top salesman. Again."
He grins cheekily. "Well, the customers don't get to see my irresistible charm over the phone, but they also can't see my face, so they can't turn and run. I suppose it's the rich timbre of my voice that draws them in." He lowers it even further and his smile widens when Sansa looks up at him and rolls her eyes.
"People would not turn and run..."
His eyebrow lifts again and he looks over toward the new temp, Loras Tyrell, who hastily looks away and busies himself with a stack of papers on his desk. "Oh, really."
She laughs. "Okay, he doesn't count."
"Sure he does," Sandor scoffs. "If he can stop being afraid of Cersei for long enough to be scared of me, then I really must look bad."
Sure enough, Cersei's glaring at Loras from her desk next to Sandor's and drumming her blood red nails rhythmically against the wooden surface. The handsome young temp is doing everything in his power not to make eye contact with either of his two coworkers.
The sound of the phone on Sansa's desk jerks them both back to attention and Sandor props his elbows on her desk and looks down at her when it makes it to a second ring. "You gonna answer that?"
She eyes it for a moment in contemplation before giving a half-hearted shrug. "I'll just let it go to voicemail. He isn't taking any calls anyway."
The pretty receptionist frowns slightly and plays with a strand of her hair before sweeping it behind her ear. "Mr. Lannister is..." She sighs and her frown deepens. "Well, he is a good boss. Just…unorthodox, I guess. Always quick with a joke when the moment's right. ...or even if it isn't. He's very kind to us all though."
She nods, seemingly satisfied with her answer, then starts to speak again after a few seconds. "This thing with Mr. Baelish though has gone a little too far. He's been calling at least twice a day for the past two weeks trying to get ahold of Tyrion, but he's just been avoiding the calls or forwarding them to me, so now he's coming all the way here from corporate to see him and Tyrion seems determined to barricade himself in his office to avoid the inevitable."
She sighs and shakes her head almost sadly, looking off toward the office in which her boss is currently hiding.
"And how exactly is making Petyr come down a better option than just answering his calls?"
Sansa tosses her hands up in exasperation. "You don't think I asked him that very same question? He's just too stubborn for his own good and he doesn't want to have to let anyone go."
At the mention of the imminent downsizing ordered by corporate, they both frown in obvious worry and after a moment, Sansa lightens the mood again with a weak smile. "Well at least you don't have to worry about getting cut, Mr. Perfect Salesman."
Sandor grins at that and gestures vaguely toward her. "Neither do you. Why would he fire the prettiest girl here?"
A slight blush rises to her cheeks at the overt compliment, but she hastily turns away, fingering the chain of her necklace and biting her lip. An awkward silence falls between them as Sansa sends her email and Sandor shuffles his feet.
The sound of a door breaks the tension as Tyrion briefly appears, fixing his gaze on the pair by the reception desk and pointing his finger at his receptionist. "You. Sansa. In here, now."
Standing, she straightens her skirt and gives Sandor a small smile, squeezing past him and hurrying towards their manager's office.
He watches her go for a moment in silence then calls out just before she closes the door behind her. "Good luck!"