A/N: I suppose I should apologize for it being almost a year since I've posted, but I don't know that that's really what you want to hear, so I'll make it brief. I'm sorry, and I can't promise it won't happen again, because it's busy working two jobs and going to college, but, I will not abandon this, no matter how long it might take me to add things to it. As long as you're all around to read it, I'll be here to write it. As for what we have here, it's just a short chapter in honor of Valentine's Day. Not set then, but just ya know, romance and whatever else. I hope it can somewhat make up for the gap in posting, and just as a reminder, I will take requests if anyone has them, because that might help me write more often since I'd have a place to start from at least. Anyway, enjoy reading and leave a review if you'd like.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to George R. R. Martin.

Rating: M for strong language and not subtle but also not detailed sex.

"Welcome home."

Sansa's heels clicked loudly against the hardwood floor as she walked through the door and she turned around slowly, taking in the space.

"It's smaller than it looks over Skype."

Sandor chuckled and shut the door behind him. "Isn't that good? Cozy or homey or some shit like that?"

"I think the word you're looking for is "cheap"." Her hands lifted to her hips and she frowned slightly. "It could certainly use a woman's touch."

Sandor's eyebrow cocked mischievously and he snaked his arms around her waist. "I know something else that could use a woman's touch..."

Although she rolled her eyes, Sansa couldn't help the sigh that escaped her lips as her boyfriend's mouth found the curve of her neck. "Sandor...at least let me get settled first."

"What's there to settle?" he countered, hands roaming toward her hips. "Your suitcase goes here..." He lifted her hand from its handle and ignored her cry of dismay when it toppled onto its side. "And your clothes go here..." He gestured toward the floor and unzipped her skirt, eyes darkening as it fell to pool at her feet.

Sansa blushed, but didn't hesitate to step out of the garment and return to Sandor's arms. As evidenced by her choice of underwear, she had been expecting a similar housewarming, and her body was warm and flushed in anticipation.

After being apart for the four years that Sansa had spent in college, she had invited herself to move in with Sandor after her graduation, and he had more than willingly allowed it. Three weeks later, here they were.

"Thigh highs?" he asked appreciatively. "What did I do to deserve this?"

"Nothing," Sansa replied, turning up her nose. "I wanted to look nice for my meeting with the representative from Parsons."

Sandor hummed in disbelief and thumbed the edge of her lace panties. "These for him too?"

At that she flushed a deeper red and tilted her face toward his. "Maybe not."

"Are they maybe there for your boyfriend? So he can tear them off that perfect ass of yours and then fuck you in his—our bed?"

At that, Sansa smiled coyly and entwined her fingers with his, leading him toward the bed in the corner.

"Maybe..."

"How do you live in a studio?" Sansa asked, still sprawled across the mattress, her chest heaving. "I feel so exposed without a real bedroom."

Sandor shrugged, one thumb absently traveling along the smooth curve of her breast. "You'd better get used to it, little bird. You live here now too."

She sighed and curled into him, her forehead against his.

"Yes. My mother isn't too fond of the arrangement though."

Sandor snorted. "Why might that be? I can't possibly imagine Catelyn having trouble with the thought of her daughter being passionately ravished every morning, noon, and night by a man such as myself."

Sansa laughed and Sandor couldn't hide his body's reaction to the sound.

"Morning, noon, and night? I'll die of bliss."

"I can think of worse ways to go." He kissed the underside of her jaw and reveled in her resulting shudder.

"It's only because we aren't married," Sansa sighed. "Her illusions about Arya's virginity vanished when she walked in on her and Jaqen in the kitchen, but until now she could at least pretend you had allowed me to retain my purity."

"Well we can fix that," Sandor murmured, his lips descending on hers for a long, slow kiss. When he finally pulled away, Sansa's eyes were hazy.

"Fix what? My purity? I think we both know it's too late for that."

As if to prove her point, her fingers danced along his thigh before landing between them and reawakening his arousal in a sudden surge. Though his resolve faltered, he shook his head.

"No. Why don't we get married?"

Sansa's flush remained and her breath shook unsteadily in her chest, but her eyes cleared in an instant.

"What?"

Sandor met her gaze evenly, nothing but sincerity behind the cloud of desire in his eyes. "Well how about it, little bird? Will you?"

When her shock remained, he rolled over and rummaged through the pile of clothes beside them. After a moment, he returned with a simple, delicate ring between his large fingers.

"Marry me?"