Yay, the date! I don't know if I like this chapter that much, but I had to post something because real life has caught up with me and I'm going to be very busy...

Thank you all for your lovely support!

Sansa had been anxiously anticipating her date. Her mind was filled with question marks. She didn't know what to wear. And she didn't know what to expect. Where would Sandor take her? What would they talk about? All those thoughts made her head almost ache.

And there was one more question: should she tell Margaery?

The brown-headed girl was her best friend. Sansa had never kept anything secret from her, apart from her crush on Loras. But that was only because she was embarrassed.

It was strange, thinking of Loras now. She hadn't done so in quite some time, but now she could not help but compare the two men. Loras was sweet and charming, with a smile never far from his - what Sansa could only imagine - soft lips. Sandor, on the other hand, was a hard man. He was tall and broad and muscular, and he seemed to have no manners. And his face...Sansa vividly remembered his scars, the raven hair miserably attempting to cover them. He could have been handsome, in a way, without them. But even so he would not be like Loras. And yet, Sansa realised that she had never reached this level of anticipation when she was to hang out with Margaery's brother.

She also realised that she had to tell her friend about her plans for the night. However, a part of her dreaded that conversation. How would Margaery react when she was informed that her best friend - whom she considered as her little sister - was going to go out with a big, scarred man known as the Hound?

"So you never told me about your date last night," Sansa began, slowly steering the conversation to the hot topic.

Margaery shrugged carelessly and gracefully. "It was okay. He bought me my drinks and we made out a bit, but that's it."

"So you're not going to see him again?"

"Nah."

"Well..." Sansa cleared her throat. It shouldn't be so hard to tell her friend the truth. Okay, Sandor wasn't drop dead gorgeous or anything, but he had rescued her. And she was certain that he hadn't been on many dates because of his face, and that was just sad.

"Well," she tried again, "I am going to see someone tonight."

Margaery's eyes widened briefly and then a huge smile appeared on her kind face. It was evident that she was interested and happy. "Oh, Sansa, that's wonderful! Who is the lucky guy?"

Sansa bit her lower lip before answering. She wasn't ashamed of agreeing to go on that date, so she shouldn't be nervous about the way her friend would take it. "The bouncer from King's Landing," she announced.

"The Hound?"

"Yes."

Sansa hadn't believed it possible, but Margaery's smile widened. "Oh, Sansa!" she exclaimed before enveloping the auburn-haired girl in her arms. "I told you that he likes you!"

A part of Sansa still wasn't all that certain concerning that. He had asked her out of course, but he didn't seem to appreciate the fact that she was polite and instead mocked her for it. What if he was simply trying to take advantage of a girl who was so courteous that she would not deprive her saviour of his reward? She hoped that this was not the case. She had been out on a date only once because the first experience had been terrible. Joffrey Baratheon was the handsome prince that she had dreamed of ever since she was little. He had been so charming and courteous, and Sansa had believed that she was in love. He had driven her to her house, but instead of giving her a chaste kiss as she had expected, Joffrey's hand had found its way between her legs. Sansa had struggled with him and had managed to get out of the car. She had run to the house screaming for her parents. By the time they got to her, Joffrey was gone. And so her last year of high school had ended. This would be her first date as a college student, and she prayed with all her might that Sandor would not turn out to be like Joffrey.

Margaery was aware of all this. She had tried to set Sansa up with certain guys that she knew, but Sansa had refused. She knew that Margaery did this because she cared and if she said that they were good guys they most likely were, yet she had refused all the same. She hadn't felt ready.

And now she was going to go out with a man who was older than her, rude, with a ruined face.

"Better take a cab to get back here," Margaery counseled while still embracing her. "Don't get into his car."

Sansa couldn't get into his car even if she wanted to, because he showed up with a black beast of a bike. Sansa didn't know much about motorcycles, but she could tell that before her stood a Harley Davidson.

Sandor wore a black T-shirt and black jeans. The only colour on him were his grey eyes, looking at her from top to bottom as she walked towards him. She looked down so that he wouldn't notice the colour of her cheeks.

"Fuck, you look lovely, little bird."

She blushed again but decided to look at him this time, hoping that the redness on her cheeks would be partially hidden in the darkness of the night. "Thank you," she said. She almst added 'so do you' but she knew that he would only laugh at her and make a cruel remark about his face. "Nice bike," she told him instead.

He looked at it for a moment and smiled, proud of his possession. "That's Stranger," he said as if he were introducing her to a real person. He handed her a helmet.

She took it hesitantly and looked at him. "Um...I...I've never got to ride a bike before," she said slowly, afraid that her confession might insult him since he seemed to be a fan of this particular type of vehicle.

He grinned. "I'll go slow then," he said. "Put that helmet on and climb behind me."

She did as she was told and was glad that she had chosen shorts over a skirt and ballerina flats instead of high heels - both black, just like his hair, his clothes, and his bike. She tentatively placed her hands on his shoulders, but he took her arms and wrapped them around his torso.

"Don't want you falling of, little bird," he said and she could hear his grin in his voice.

In spite of that, she never once moved her arms during the ride. If anything, she pressed her legs tighter against his and prayed that she wouldn't fall. She knew that she was being far too intimate, but in that case being safe came before being appropriate.

When they reached their destination, she slowly let go of him. Only when her feet touched the ground did she realise that the ride had not been all that bad. It had actually been rather thrilling.

"You liked having your arms and legs around me, didn't you?" he asked with amusement as she gave him the helmet.

She had hoped that he wouldn't bring up the embarrassing fact that she has held on to him rather too tightly, but of course she should have known better. She cleared her throat. "Um, I'm sorry..."

"Don't apologise, girl. I liked it too."

Her cheeks burned as they walked. All of her burned. Her heart beat faster. Even the area between her legs was pulsing.

She noticed that he was walking her to a place called Flea Bottom. She hadn't even heard of it. It seemed to be a diner. She hadn't expected the man by her side to attend to fancy restaurants and she hadn't been wrong.

Flea Bottom looked alright. It was clean and the people seemed to enjoy the food. There were families and bunches of high school and college students. She didn't notice any couples, but she wasn't all that surprised; Flea Bottom wasn't an ideal place for a date.

They took their seats silently, facing each other.

"I've never been here before," Sansa admitted.

"Of course you haven't."

Sansa fixed him with her stare. "I happen to like places like this," she said defensively, "I simply haven't been here."

"Well, here is where I've taken you tonight whether you like it or not."

She took a deep breath. The date had now started with tension and Sandor being - of course - rude and pointing out that they were from two different worlds.

"I like it," she said, trying to make amends. "Do you come here often?"

"Yes," he replied calmly. "They have killer burgers."

Sansa looked at the menu. A small gasp escaped her lips as she noticed the desserts. "They serve lemon cakes!" she exclaimed.

Sandor appeared thoughtful. "Never had them," he said, "dunno if they're any good."

"Lemon cakes are my favourite," she confessed happily. Flea Bottom rose to a new level in her eyes.

When the waitress came, both of them ordered burgers. And then, Sandor asked the waitress to bring them lemon cakes as well. Sansa looked at him. surprised that he would show any interest in her favourite dessert, and smiled sweetly at him when the waitress left.

"You didn't have to order lemon cakes."

"You said you liked them. Do you want me to call the waitress and tell her to cancel it?"

She let out a small laugh. "No," she said with an angelic smile. "I really appreciate it."

He shrugged. "I'll get the chance to see why you like the damned things so much."

She took a delicate sip of her water. "I hope you'll like them," she said. "If not, more lemon cakes for me!"

"Don't be greedy, little bird," he said with a grin.

She chuckled. "You can call me Sansa, you know."

"Don't you like me calling you little bird?"

In fact she did. It was too familiar for a person who hardly knew her, but she liked it. It had started as an insult, but somehow, somewhere along the way, it had become an endearment. Her father sometimes called her his little girl (even now), and Margaery used words such as 'honey', 'darling', 'sweetheart' - but this was different.

"I like it," she said, "but, FYI, I have a name."

He only flashed his grin at her and sipped at his water. "So what do you study?" he asked her.

"Fashion. It's been my passion all my life. I'd like to be a big name in the industry one day, but even just getting coffee and bagels for a great designer would make me happy. I just love it so much!"

The waitress arrived with their dishes, and their conversation continued between bites. Sansa told him more about her plans, and he shared funny stories starring patrons of King's Landing drunk off their asses. Sansa smiled and laughed. She enjoyed speaking with him and she enjoyed the food.

"Lemon cakes time," she announced.

A plate stood before them, bearing the two gold-coloured sweets. Sansa eyed them hungrily, Sandor a little doubtfully.

"You try first," Sansa said playfully.

He gazed at her. He looked as though he was going to put his hand in a pit of snakes. He put a spoonful in his mouth and started chewing. Sansa watched him, interested and amused. She knew that she was being rude, but she couldn't take her eyes off his lips. On one side they were scarred and almost non-existent. But on the other side they looked soft and smooth.

He swallowed and hummed. "It's good," he said.

She smiled. For some reason she felt nice that he liked something that she liked. She started eating her own lemon cake, savouring its taste on her tongue.

When she saw the bike - Stranger, she reminded herself - again, some of her giddiness evaporated. Not because the prospect of the ride made her nervous, but because it would be the ride home. Stranger was pointing out that their date was coming to an end.

She wasn't afraid this time, but she still held on to him tightly. Partly because it was better to be safe than sorry, and partly because she liked the proximity of their bodies. Sandor definitely didn't seem to mind and he didn't make any comment afterwards.

"This was really nice," she said, handing him the helmet almost reluctantly.

His hand brushed hers as he took it and she shivered at his touch as the electricity between them became palpable. She licked her lips.

"Yes, it was," he agreed. "You should come by the club again, we can talk during my break and then maybe you could ride Stranger again."

She smiled and bit her lip. "Yeah, sure." She could tell that he was a little nervous, but she also thought that he had in mind certain things that they could do after a ride on Stranger. She caught herself not minding that at all.

"Thank you," she said, "for a lovely night. And for the ride."

He merely nodded.

Some instinct made her stand on her toes and kiss his cheek. Sandor seemed to be pleasantly surprised. Even Sansa was taken aback; she had always been shy.

"Um, see you," she said.

"Yeah," was his reply, and it sounded almost like a moan.

Sansa walked away from him. This time she didn't feel that she had done something inappropriate. This time she felt good.