6. Whatever Happens in the Dark
The basement was once a wine cellar. The most exclusive vintages of Dornish wine were shelved in wooden racks and placed in crates, trusted to the natural refrigeration of the soil behind the dense stone walls. There were ancient brackets for candles every few feet, but it has been so long since they were used that there is not even any wax residue on them.
Sansa can smell the musty air in the dim light provided by the single bare bulb that dangles from the ceiling, she cannot see any water seeping in. It's larger than it seems from the doorway, and there are some alcoves built in.
Sansa hated the dark.
It was one of her biggest fears that had lived on since childhood, ever since she had accidently managed to get herself locked in a dark room. Robb and her father had eventually kicked the door down, and she went crying into her mother's arms afterwards. She remembered the moment she felt trapped, the shadows in the dark creeping in on her, and she was helpless to do anything but stay frozen on her feet, waiting with terror blown eyes for someone to recuse her.
That memory was hidden deep in the back of her mind, but some instances where she would be lying in her bed; she would think back on it and tremble in fear.
Perhaps it is why she craved so much control in her life. Because she had never wanted to feel as helpless and vulnerable to her emotions as she did during that day.
Looking down into the darkness of the basement, she let out a shaky breath, her body tensing in fear.
"Sansa, you don't have to do this," he worriedly glances sideways at her face.
"Of course, I do sir. My mother's depending on me to bring the wine and I can't let her down," she sighs.
"Jon. Call me Jon, remember we're not at school," Jon points out.
She gives a pause and continues, a warmth feeling her body when she says his name. She chooses to ignore this.
"Jon, then."
"Let me go down there instead and bring the wine."
"You wouldn't know which wine to pick out anyways. So, I have to do this," she runs her hand through her hair, waving away his request.
"Okay, but I'm not letting you go down there all alone by yourself, Sansa," he fiercely establishes.
"I don't need your protection, Jon," she rolls her eyes. "It's just a walk down the stairs. Besides I've got a torch with me," she waves the object around in her right hand.
She could see his mouth opening and closing for a few seconds, wondering on what to say. He gives out a sigh instead.
"It's not protection I'm offering. It's company because everyone needs company in the dark."
She knew that he was right. And if she was being honest with herself, she was pleased and reassured beyond a doubt that he had chosen to accompany her, knowing she would not have to deal with her fear alone.
She felt stronger for some reason she did not want to acknowledge at this point.
"Okay, I'll let you come with me but don't try and scare me, okay. I mean it because the last time I came with someone down here, it was with Robb and he jumped out of the shadows to scare me," she warns him with a pointed look.
"I'll never do that, Sansa," Jon says, looking at her with soft eyes and a serious expression.
She swallows nervously, his soft dark eyes creating a sort of nudge in her stomach. She just nods, hoping to ignore the feeling she was beginning to realise.
"Right, let's go then," she breaths out loudly, trying to act braver than she felt.
With a tight grip on her torch, she steps forward, walking down the wooden steps of the basement, each step a gap away from each other. She could feel every muscle in her body tightening, and the rapid thumping of her heart against her chest. Her fingers curl into a fist, nails digging into her palm.
Sansa keeps close to stair railing, gripping on it so tightly that her knuckles whiten. She knows that Jon notices her increasing fear as they descend downwards, as he keeps close to her, making sure his presence provides her with comfort.
She almost thanks him aloud for it.
A hidden crack on the steps make her lose her footing. She mentally swore in her head for wearing heels today. Quick hands grab her thin waist, supporting her upright as she gives out a gasp. Looking towards the side she spots Jon with an anxious and panicked expression.
Her heartbeat speeds up even more.
"Are you okay, Sansa?"
"I'm fine, thank you, Jon. It seems as if you're always there to keep me from falling onto the ground," she jokes.
He nods hesitantly, his eyes running over her body, checking to make sure that she was uninjured with his own eyes.
She felt a bucket of warmth pool in her chest at his actions.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she narrows her eyes, shifting her head around in order to look for the wine crate. Spotting a wooden crate, she walks closer towards it, her light from the torch shining directly in front of it.
Moving closely towards it, she tries to move the top of the crate in order to get the wine, but it seemed as if it was not budging an inch. Huffing with frustration, she removes her hands to take a catch her breath.
"Is it stuck?" He questions.
Sansa nods with moving her eyes from the crate. "Yeah. It's a new crate because the old one had run out a few days ago. My dad used the last bottle for when my uncle Benjen came to visit."
"Here, let me try," he suggests moving closer.
Pushing his fingers through the top, he grips and pulls, but it was still stuck.
"I think we need some sort of wrench. I think it's because it is brand new, it hasn't been open and the hidden dust in this basement has probably got through its cracks," he informs her.
With a glance around the room, she moves towards the alcove and picks up a metal wrench. She moves towards Jon and hands it out for him nervously.
"Do you mind if you do it? It's just that I figured with your strength, you'll have a better chance opening it than I would," she explains hurriedly, with a quick glance at the muscles peeking out from his shirt.
Taking the object from her hand, he gives her a soft smile. "Sure, I don't mind. It'll be no problem at all, Sansa. I came to help you remember?"
She gives him a wide beam, making a twang echo in his chest. He avoids her eyes quickly before he did something he would regret. Taking off his suit jacket and giving it to her to hold, he rolls his sleeves up to his wrist, kneels down and gets to work.
He breaks the silence, after a few minutes of her watching him.
"So, how good can this wine be that your mother so insists on you getting it?" Jon question, throwing a curious look towards the crate.
Sansa gives out a small laugh and crosses her arms. "Oh, trust me. You have not lived on this world until you have tasted Dornish wine."
"Really?" he chuckles, the sound resonating deep inside Sansa's chest.
"Yes. Strong wines, especially from Dorne are as dark as blood, with a sweet taste. I first tasted it when I was thirteen years old. I thought there wasn't anything in the whole world that could taste better than this type of wine," she grins.
Jon smiles back, pleased at the fact that Sansa did not seem to be afraid anymore. But he did not know whether it due to his presence being comforting for her that removed that fear; he hoped it was.
"You'll be surprised, actually. Ale can taste good as well," he jokes with a smirk.
Sansa's nose crinkles in disgust, her eyebrows furrowing closely together.
"Please tell me you are joking. It's the worst thing I have ever tasted," she says in revulsion, thinking back of the memory.
He lets out a bellyful laugh at her expression, the edges of his eyes crinkling up in joy. Sansa stared for a second, thinking he had never looked as handsome as he did when he smiled. She was glad it was her that made him smile in the process though.
She looks away before he can notice her staring at him.
"Yes, ale can be quite distasteful for some if they are not used to the taste," he chortles.
"You're telling me," Sansa scoffs.
A comfortable silence settles between them as Sansa watches Jon grunt in effort from opening the crate. The familiar throbbing arrived between her legs.
This is so wrong, she thinks to herself. He's your teacher and not to mention it's inappropriate. She had to get a grip on herself and fast. Breathing out deeply, she shifts her mind elsewhere before her emotions got a hold of her.
"So, what made you become a teacher then?" she questions suddenly.
He gave a surprised glance before looking back at the crate. "Um, I always liked being passionate about teaching kids, I guess. And it pays well for a career," he grins.
She became silent for a few minutes, a thought occurring to her. Her voice comes out quietly with a hint of sadness.
"Jon, do you think I'm a kid? Is that why you hate me?" she softly asks.
His head whips round so fast, he was surprised that he did not feel dizzy. "What! Why would you ask that?" he demands.
"Don't lie to me, Jon. Just tell me if you do."
"No, Sansa. I do not hate you. How could I?" he exclaims in disbelief.
"Because you always ignore me in lessons when I put my hand up. And you never put my name up on the board for being a hard worker. I think it's because you believe I'm just a little girl who can't do anything for herself," she explains resolutely.
Jon looked incredulous. He had jumped up from his spot on the ground, and had spun around to look at her in the face.
"Sansa, no! You've got it all wrong. I don't hate you or think of you as a kid at all. You've got it all wrong. You're the most mature woman I have ever seen. And the hard worker thing is just for those in the class who struggle more than others, so it's to give them encouragement," he explains heatedly.
"But you've never encouraged me in class. You always avoid me. But if you do hate me, then why did you come down here with me?" she continues.
"No! I do not hate you, Sansa. Believe me, I would know most definitely. And I came down here with you because I could not stand to leave you alone," he chuckles mirthlessly, a dark expression overcoming him.
He pauses for a second, narrowing his eyes at her. "Wait. Sansa, where is all this coming from? Why would you think that I hated you?"
She takes a deep breath, her nerves calming down enough for her to think properly. "I'm sorry, Jon. Please forgive my outburst."
Jon still looked determined. "Sansa, tell me why you think I hated you? What brought this on?"
She gives out a tired sigh. "Okay. Ever since I was young, I have been afraid of the dark due to a traumatic experience as a child. And nowadays, the dark brings out some of my darkest thoughts due to my emotions being out of control."
Jon listens closely with a solemn countenance.
"And I suppose that being down here in the dark with you, my mind tends to wonder."
"Sansa, listen to me. I do not hate you, but I admire you actually. You are basically one of most mature woman I know. I could never hate you, even if I tried," he explains passionately, his arms waving all around the place.
"What does that mean?" she asks curiously, biting her lip.
He falters for a second, his eyes glancing at her lip and darkening. She can see something in his eyes break, making her heart speed up in faster.
"You know what. Fuck the wine," he growls before closing the distance.
She did not get to ask him what he meant before the gap between them was bridged and soft lips claimed her own in a gentle kiss.
Sansa's mind went blank for a moment, unable to process what was going on. Then, her lips began to tentatively move against his, all notion of inappropriateness thrown out of the door. She felt him grip her waist, pushing her backwards until her back softly hit the basement wall. One of her hands went to grip the back of his neck whilst the other ran through his hair.
She was right at the beginning, his hair really was as soft as it looked, she thought dazedly between his lips.
Perhaps it was the thought of doing something so forbidden and naughty with her English teacher, when her whole family was upstairs, or maybe she was just simply tired of fighting her feelings; either way, instead of the push she intended to give him, Sansa found herself melting into the kiss as she allowed Jon to take complete control. Her rebellious side had over-powered her rule- abiding side, and she was unable to listen.
He pulled his mouth from her lips only to quest hungrily down her throat.
"Jon, this is so wrong," she moans out.
"I know," he whispers back without breaking away.
Both of them could not will themselves to move away. Jon was sure that if someone burst in on them like this at this very moment, he would not be able to move away from her.
She was like an addicting drug.
His hands brushed the skin of her arms, and then moved down to grip her waist confidently and steadfastly.
Sansa, in the moment had forgotten about the trouble they could both be in. All her worries and struggles were erased from her mind, and all she could process was Jon.
Jon's lips.
Jon's heavy breathing.
Jon's hands.
Jon's gentleness.
A sound of laughter from upstairs broke them out of their daze. Sansa broke the kiss, looking at the dishevelled appearance of Jon. His hair was messy, his eyes had darkened considerably and his white shirt untucked from his slacks.
A deep throb of desire ran through her again, almost making her crush her lips against his again.
Saana's lips felt as if they were on fire. Her heart was thundering rapidly inside her chest and she looked towards Jon, waiting for him to say anything.
He swallows with difficult, his eyes glancing up to lock onto her own lust blown gaze. "I'm sorry, Sansa. I should never have taken advantage of you like that. I'll understand if you decide to file a complaint against me," he whispers sadly.
Sansa could barely speak in her shock. Her silence made him even more worried.
"Sansa. Please say something."
"No. I won't do it," she firmly interrupts, breaking out of her daze.
"What?" he questions confusedly.
"I'm not going to report you, Jon. I wanted this as well. So, don't only blame yourself only," she says, straightening out her dress with both hands.
Jon's mouth firmly presses together as he clenches his jaw.
"This cannot carry on, Sansa. Do you hear me? I won't let you put yourself in trouble because I could not contain my emotions," he fiercely claims.
"Why not?" she answers back.
"Because you deserve better than me."
"There's no one better than you Jon," she whispers to him.
He looks shocked for a minute before giving her a tired look. He then walks over to grab the wine and tucks his shirt back into his trousers.
Jon was right about one thing, Sansa thought to herself. Some things in the world do taste better than Dornish wine.