"I've been in this bloody bed for two weeks! Stop treating me like a baby little bird!" The Hound was standing against the wall, holding his sword to his side. An extremely angry Sansa stood before him with her arms crossed and a stern look on her face.
"You still need time to heal! You've ripped those stiches three times since I've found you and you have had two fevers! You push yourself too soon and you'll wind up in the same place you were two weeks ago." Sansa dared to step close to him, reaching to the hand that held his sword, she pried it from his fingers. It was much heavier than she expected but he willingly gave it up to her, allowing her to place it back in the corner where she had placed his freshly cleaned armor. She turned back to him and let out a gasp, finding he had moved closer to her causing her to nearly crash into his chest.
The Hound moved to wrap his arms around her delicate waist, pulling her even closer to him. "Careful little bird, most men would have taken off those pretty little hands if you tried to take their sword from them." He grinned down at her as her eyes widened from the closeness of their bodies.
When he pulled her close to him she could feel her breath catch in her throat. She looked up at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of any sort of struggle. "You're not most men, you've already proven that."
He looked at her, holding her a bit closer for a moment before finally letting go of her waist. He then moved to sit back in the bed again, laying out his injured leg for her to look at. "Well there you go little bird, you want to keep playing this game, go right ahead."
Sansa took a moment to catch her breath, watching as he moved to lay on the bed. She could tell he was enjoying making her uncomfortable which frustrated her more than anything. Slowly she moved to sit by his leg, pulling the cloth from the wound. "You're almost healed, there is no need for stitches any longer." She looked up at him for a moment, when he gave her a nod, she reached for the dagger she always kept in her boot. She then slowly cut at the stitching, causing some light bleeding, but not enough that would have caused him to be sick. Once the stitches were cut from his leg, she carefully cleaned him, then wrapped his leg once more before standing from the bed. "You can call me Sansa you know."
He couldn't help but let out a laugh, "you don't like little bird?" He watched her as she moved to sit in the chair by the fireplace. She sat the most of the day, sometimes sleeping in it when she didn't want to be near him. "You never address me as anything, little bird. Afraid to call me Hound, or Dog?" He chuckled again, grabbing his skin of wine that Sansa had placed at his bedside.
"I will not call you those names, I think they are disrespectful." She looked over at him, "but you do not wish me to call you Ser either. So I do not address you." She sighed as she sat back in her chair, "little bird sounds like a pet name. Am I your pet?"
"If you want to be." He let out a laugh at her gasp, sitting up so he could look at her better. "Call me Sandor girl. There is no need for any damn formalities here." He looked at her curiously as he spoke, watching as she shifted uncomfortably. "Do you not like saying my name girl?"
Sansa couldn't help but look away from him as he questioned her, he was trying to get more and more familiar with her and it made her uncomfortable. "I… I was just raised to respect those older than I am. My father and mother always insisted that I refer to anyone older than I am as My Lady or Ser." She then looked over at him, "even if they were not of noble blood. It was simply a way to show respect."
Sandor let out a laugh, slowly standing from the bed and walking to stand behind her chair. He grinned as he looked down at the girl as she sat helplessly beneath him. "Your father and mother are dead little bird. You chose to stay with me while I got better, so best be addressing me somehow. And I won't be no Ser, so let it be dog, hound or Sandor." He leaned down so that his lips were inches from her ear, "you pick."
When she heard him move behind her, she did not look at him. She continued to look towards the fire as he spoke, but could not help but hold her breath as she felt him lean down to whisper in her ear. His words infuriating her though. Slowly she stood and faced him, her eyes fighting tears. "Do not speak of my parents, I know they are gone, but I will still honor them and how they raised me!" She moved closer to him, "I stayed to make sure you wouldn't die, like any compassionate person would. But you seem to be fine now, so perhaps it's time we part ways." She then moved to walk away from him when she felt his hand grab her wrist and pull her back against him. When she dared to look up at him, his dark eyes were locked on hers. "Let me go…"
"My little bird…" He couldn't help himself as he held her close, one hand holding her wrist while the other moved to wrap around her waist. He had grown to admire her so long ago in Kings Landing. And now, she had grown, she was a woman and had grown more beautiful with each passing day. Slowly he released her wrist and moved to stroke a strand of her hair out of her face. "You can't possibly think I will let you venture out there on your own. A pretty thing like you, you're lucky you made it this far without bein' raped by some drunk man." He so badly wanted to kiss her, to feel her skin against his, but he knew this would only scare the girl. She had some care for him though, why else would she have stayed so long by his side? No, he would be careful with her, go slow for her sake. "We travel together little bird, I will protect you as I promised long ago. No one will touch you, or I'll kill em." He then let go of her waist again, letting out a low grown when she moved away, missing the warmth of her pressing against her.
Sansa couldn't help but back away once he let go of her, she thought he would have tried to kiss her, the way he had been holding her. Though for some reason, she wished he would have. But she quickly shook the feeling away as she nodded. "Fair enough, but you're not ready to travel. I have enough silver to last us a good while. Another week perhaps, then you should be well enough to ride."
Sandor nodded, returning to sit on the bed, drinking from his skin of wine again. "We will want to ride soon, I am sure Littlefinger is searching for his pet. You are still a valuable prize little bird. Since your brothers are gone, the man that gets you, gets the north."
Sansa moved to sit in her chair again, realizing he was right. She had not put any thought into Littlefinger. What if he had sent men searching for her? How long would it be until he found her and took her back to the Eyrie? She couldn't let that happen, she would not let that happen.