A/N: Mention of drugs again, in case that's a trigger for anyone, but nothing very specific or detailed.

Sandor

He rested his forehead against the steering wheel and let out a breath. He should have kissed her back. He should have taken her into his arms and kissed her hard. He should have shown her how she should be, needed to be, kissed, by someone who actually cared about her.

He should have run his hand through her hair as he kissed her, then nipped his way down to that perfect white neck hidden by the collar of her coat. He should have taken her up on her offer to come inside and kissed her again and again until she forgot all about what happened with Joffrey.

He should have done all of those things. But he hadn't.

He had stood there and gaped at her like an idiot, eyes wide with shock, completely derailed by her soft pink lips pressing against his scarred ugly ones. He had stood there, staring at her, until she turned red and mumbled good night and Merry Christmas and went into her warm house. Sandor punched the passenger seat. What the hell was wrong with him? She had caught him off guard. He hadn't been prepared. If there had ever been a chance in a thousand years that they would kiss, he had never imagined that she would have been the one to initiate it.

She had actually kissed him.

Cursing himself, Sandor started the truck and drove back to the Baratheon's house, trying to remember what he intended to do. The memory of Sansa's perfect face, her skin white and rosy from the cold, her eyes closed and fringed with dark lashes, the cute little freckles that dotted her nose and the way she had pouted her lips just before they reached his…that memory was going to haunt him, he knew.

Pulling up to the mansion, Sandor was surprised to see that the only vehicle in the driveway was the large Escalade belonging to the Starks. Where did everyone from the party go? Had something happened in the short time it took to drive Sansa home and come back? Muttering, he climbed out of the truck and walked into the house. It was empty and an eerie feeling settled on Sandor's shoulders. Eyes narrowed he started to walk through the rooms when he heard some voices coming from the downstairs lounge.

In the foyer he saw the Stark boys and Arya sitting or standing together, looking grim. Robb started when he saw Sandor. "Hey, is Sansa okay?" he asked. "Yes, she's fine, just wanted to go home." "Why did you take her?" Jon and Arya asked together. Sandor ignored them and cocked his head to the door. "What's happening?" Arya folded her arms. "We don't know. Cersei and Robert just started yelling at each other, and everyone was told to leave. They've been in there talking ever since." Frowning, Sandor knocked on the door, and the voices immediately hushed.

Ned Stark opened the door and was surprised to see him. "Clegane," he said, "please come in." Sandor entered the room wordlessly. Robert was standing by his desk, red-faced and puffing. His hair and neck-tie were a mess. Cersei was seated, anger sketched over her pretty features and she clenched the arms of the chair so tightly that her fingernails were sure to leave marks. Catelyn Stark was seated in another chair, looking distressed and worried. The air was thick with tension.

"Clegane!" Cersei cried, standing up. "Why on earth did you leave your post to take the Stark girl home? Your responsibility lies with my son, and maybe if you had been doing your job this wouldn't have happened!" She was sort of ugly when she was upset, Sandor decided. "The girl was traumatized by your son, and she wished to go home without causing a scene," he answered, keeping his voice devoid of any emotion. "That's none of your concern!" Cersei shouted, her face turning purple. "Cersei, be quiet," Robert snapped. "Let him speak. I'm sure there's more to this than what Joffrey and his friends told us."

All eyes were on him, and the room felt very uncomfortable and hot. Sandor wanted a drink, badly. "Joffrey told me to stay downstairs while he, his friends, and the Stark girl went upstairs," he began. "I was doing my job, so I obeyed." That was directed at Cersei, who looked like she didn't believe him one bit. "A few minutes later the girl texted me…she has my number for emergency purposes, in case something happened with Joffrey." It was a lie, and he didn't like it, but there was no way he was going to tell them why she really had his number. "She asked me to come upstairs. She sounded scared. I went up and she was in one of the bathrooms, freaking out. I asked what happened and she said Joffrey and his friends were doing drugs in the back study." Robert sighed and rubbed his hands down his face. Cersei was fidgeting angrily. "She didn't know what to do, or who to tell. Said Joffrey threatened her if she told anyone. I told her to go downstairs and I would handle it. When we came out of the bathroom, Joffrey was there with his friends. They were clearly on something."

"Joffrey got mad at Sansa and started to become violent, and she broke up with him. I stepped in before he could hurt her, then punched Meryn and Boros. Then I took Sansa downstairs and took her home." "Sansa is alright?" Catelyn asked softly. He nodded to her. "I don't believe it," Cersei hissed. "Joffrey would never be involved in such things." Sandor glanced around at them. "What happened after we left?" "Two of the guests went upstairs together," Ned answered. "They went into the study and found the drugs on the table. Joffrey and the others must have forgotten it. The police were called, but Jaime managed to handle the situation." "It wasn't him! Joffrey wouldn't do this!" Cersei screamed. "Calm down, woman, or leave!" Robert thundered at her, and she sat back down, spitting and hissing like a cat.

Sandor took a step towards Robert. "I intended to tell you what happened after I brought the Stark girl home," he said. "I've seen people on drugs before, Mr. Baratheon. Your son was high, and so were his friends. And to be honest, I'm not surprised by his behavior at all." Sandor knew that Joffrey was no innocent lamb like his mother seemed to think. The boy had been spiraling downwards for years. Cersei stood and stomped out of the room, slamming the door as she went.

Ned and Catelyn glanced at each other, uncomfortable. Robert walked around the desk and sat heavily, sighing and covering his face with his hands. "I'm going to take the kids to the car," Catelyn said softly, and she stood. Before reaching the door, she looked back at Sandor. "Thank you for taking care of Sansa," she said. He nodded to her, and she left. Ned approached Robert and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry about all this, Robert." "What do I do?" the big man asked, shaking his head. "Get the boy some help," Ned suggested, firmly but gently. "Rehab, maybe boot camp. There's lots of programs."

Thank goodness Mr. Stark had been the one to suggest those things. Sandor had not wanted that conversation at all. Robert nodded, and patted Ned on the arm. "Go home, Ned. I'll see you later." The other man gave him a sympathetic smile and headed for the door, then paused. "Robert, if you have nothing else to ask him, do you mind if I speak to Clegane for a moment?" Sandor raised an eyebrow. What did he want? Robert waved at them and Sandor followed the older man out of the office.

The hallway and foyer were empty now, and Ned turned to face him, his hands in his pockets as he regarded Sandor thoughtfully. "You went through quite a lot of trouble tonight for my daughter, Clegane." It was a statement, and one that Sandor was not sure how to respond to. He chose to keep his face blank and answered, "Bugger that. Girl didn't deserve to be treated that way. Or see what they were up to." Ned was quiet, regarding him curiously. "Joffrey…he's been violent before, hasn't he? He's treated Sansa badly, right?" Sandor clenched his jaw, remembering certain instances over the last year, before she went away to school, and nodded. "Aye. Stepped in whenever I could. If I was there."

This probably wasn't the best time to let on to Ned Stark that he had any interest in the man's daughter, so Sandor tried to keep his answer clipped and impersonal. "I see. Well. Merry Christmas, Clegane. Thank you, again, for bringing Sansa home." Ned reached out his hand, and Sandor hesitated, but shook it. He watched the man walk away, and let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

A/N: Sorry it's so short, but the next one will be longer!