Sansa huffed through her annoyance as the music that had been playing for the last couple of hours continued to blare, reverberating heavily through the walls. Accompanying the heavy bass was the sounds of drunken chanting, laughter and cheering along with the heavy, inebriated footfalls of those coming and going into the flat next door and passing her own.
She valiantly continued with her attempt at reading the new book that Jon had recommended to her when there was a series of eager knocks on her door. Sansa closed her eyes in frustration, thinking that she was going to flay the next idiot who knocked on her door only to run away before she got there to answer it. Sansa kicked the blanket off of her legs and got up from the sofa to make another cup of tea when the knock repeated itself, more insistent this time.
“I swear to the Gods!” Sansa fumed as she pivoted, heading quickly towards the door before swinging it open angrily, ready to cuss out the moron who thought this immature behaviour humorous at midnight.
The door opened to reveal none other than Margaery Tyrell leaning casually against the doorframe, dressed smart-casual for her own house party in a fitted white blouse, black waistcoat, functionless, designer, hiking boots, thigh high black socks and black shorts so minuscule that Sansa was certain that, if Margaery were to turn around, she would be able to see the curve of where her rump began.
“Hello, Sweet Sansa. I'm sorry for disturbing you so late-” Margaery began but was interrupted by a loud bang next door, causing a number of Sansa’s books to tumble from their shelf before a raucous roar of approval boomed from Margaery's flat in response. Margaery looked mortified so Sansa pushed on bravely.
“It's okay. I was…awake. Did you need something?” Sansa asked politely.
Margaery hesitated, no doubt still distracted by the mess of books that was inevitably behind Sansa. “My…my genius brother has bought enough alcohol to keep a Lannister family reunion going but didn't think to buy any ice. I was wondering if you had any that you could lend to a neighbour in need?” Margaery asked charmingly, looking up at Sansa through her lashes in a practiced move that Sansa was certain had been perfected and utilised for many years to a devastating effect.
Sansa gawped for a moment, as always, taken with the Southerners beauty. “Of course. Do come in, Margaery.”
“Thank you.” Margaery thanked politely, following Sansa into the flat.
Sansa walked over to her freezer and pulled out a large bag of ice, taking a moment to helpfully break the pieces up against the kitchen counter before turning to hand the bag to Margaery. When she approached Margaery she realised that while her back had been turned the brunette had picked up her fallen books, returning them to the shelf and was now avidly studying the books, pictures and ornaments that were also there, her amber eyes flitting back-and-forth at an alarming velocity. “You have good taste.” Margaery smiled, indicating her collection.
‘You have no idea.’ Sansa thought with an internal sigh. “Thank you.” Sansa smiled.
They looked at each other for a long moment, their stare heated and the air tense. Margaery hesitated, licking her lips and looking as though she was struggling to pick the right words before she shook her head slightly, expression morphing back to its usual, confident smirk.
“Well, I won't keep you any longer. Thank you, Wolf Girl.” Margaery drawled, accepting the bag of ice before they both made their way back to the door. They dawdled slightly by the door again, Sansa struggling to think of something to say when suddenly Margaery was jumping into her personal space to avoid a stampeding duo, running back into the party. Margaery stepped back quickly, looking somewhat embarrassed; Sansa thought she may have even have spotted a slight flush to the other woman's cheeks. “Sorry. And I'm sorry about all the raucous too.”
“It's really fine.” Sansa smiled politely.
“Really?” Margaery smirked, her face taking on a teasing expression now. “Because you looked about ready to kill someone when you first answered the door.”
Sansa flushed, embarrassed about her earlier ire. “No, no. I'm sorry, that wasn't the party, per se. It was the ‘Knock-Knock Ginger’ that was annoying me.”
Margaery breathed out a short laugh before biting a lip to keep in any more that tried to escape. “I'm sorry, ‘What-What Who’?” She asked, clearly amused.
“‘Knock-Knock Ginger’.” Sansa replied warily, feeling as though she was stepping into a trap.
“Hmmmmm. And what is that exactly?” Margaery queried, tilting her head and folding her arms, expression expectant.
“You know, when you knock on someone's door and then run away before they can answer.” Sansa explained, desperately fighting the heat creeping up her neck.
“Oh!” Margaery smiled with understanding. “I see. We call it ‘Cherry Picking’ down South.” Margaery explained with a fond smile.
“Oh. Sorry.” Sansa finished lamely, not certain why she was apologising.
“No, no! I'm sorry. I hope it didn't sound like I was making fun. You’re just so Northern! I love it!” Margaery enthused, biting her lip again with a smirk, the combination of which should be considered murder for all that it completely killed Sansa’s willpower to resist her.
“Thanks.” Sansa replied, unable to look away from Margaery now, feeling herself falling even further.
“I didn’t realise how ‘Gingerist’ people are in the North.” Margaery teased, smiling a wide, genuine smile now which Sansa felt even more powerless against.
“That's why I live here now.” Sansa joked, loving the open and free laugh that the comment had won from Margaery.
Margaery kept her eye contact, smiling beautifully before her face creased angrily, making Sansa blanch. “Wait, people have been knocking your door and running away?” Margaery demanded, disgust clear on her face. Sansa nodded, not feeling particularly comfortable ‘tattling’ to Margaery, who looked even more annoyed now than Sansa had been. “Eurgh! I'm so sorry! Loras has some truly stupid friends. Sometimes I think he has no taste at all.” Margaery confided, leaning in slightly with a conspiratorial tone.
“Hey!” An offended squawk sounded next to them. Sansa leaned out of her doorway and spotted Loras’ boyfriend Renly, arms filled with various bags of ice that Sansa guessed he had sequestered from other neighbours.
“Present company excluded, Renly.” Margaery appeased demurely.
“I should think so!” Renly huffed before smiling at Sansa in hello then pushing his way into their flat.
A long moment past, Sansa undecided on whether she should start talking so Margaery would stay or remain silent so she would go. “Well, I better be going.” Margaery announced unenthusiastically, readjusting the bag distractedly.
“Okay. Bye then.” Sansa replied, sounding somewhat disappointed to her own ears.
Margaery began to walk away so Sansa started to slowly, close the door. “Just one thing!” Margaery’s voice called out, reappearing outside of her door again, causing Sansa to open it fully once more. “You did…you did get my invitation, didn't you?” Margaery asked, sounding uncertain. “It's just… I knocked on your door the other day but you weren't here so I slipped a note under your door but then when you didn't come I figured you had plans but then I knocked for ice and you were here…” Margaery rambled off quickly, looking like she was berating herself for saying so much.
“Oh, yeah.” Sansa answered, trying to the think of a believable excuse considering she had been found, sat in at midnight on a Saturday night with a book, like a loser, instead of living the life of a normal twenty-something. “I had plans earlier in the evening but I didn't think the party would still be going on by the time I got back.” Sansa lied, feeling terrible about it, even more so when Margaery's face lit up like the sun.
“Oh! Well, why didn't you say? You can come over for a drink now. I owe you one for the ice anyway.” Margaery offered eagerly.
“Oh! That's not necessary.” Sansa waved off weakly.
“I didn't ask if it was necessary; I asked if you'd have a drink with me.” Margaery rebutted with a smirk, looking like she would not be deterred in the slightest. “Actually, I didn't ask at all.” Margaery corrected confidently.
Sansa tried one more time. “I look like a complete mess-” Sansa argued, gesturing down at her ripped skinny jeans and one of Robb’s old sports sweatshirts.
Margaery’s hand came out at that, wrapping around her own, hers icy to the touch from holding the frozen bag for so long though Sansa knew that that wasn't the reason for her sudden shiver. “You look…you look beautiful.” Margaery argued with the most open and genuine expression that Sansa had ever seen her wear. “Please, Sansa Stark? Join me for just one drink.” She cajoled softly, her voice sounding like a siren’s song.
Sansa debated with herself, all of the reasons for why she had been resisting just this eventuality from happening flying through her head at lightning speeds before suddenly coming to a grinding halt when Margaery gently rubbed a thumb over Sansa’s hand, gifting her with a small, pleading smile.
“Okay.” Sansa surrendered, stepping out of the flat, hand still linked with Margaery’s.