Jon looked out the window and sighed. The storm wasn’t letting up, if anything it was snowing harder. He wasn’t worried for practical reasons. He had enough food to last him and Sansa for a couple of month if needs be, it was the prospect of being alone with Sansa that worried him
She’s your best mate’s sister! The voice in his head scolded when he noticed the melody of her laugh, or the grace of her neck, or the way her jeans hugged her curves. And now he was stuck. With her. In his and Robb’s house. Alone. Fan-fucking-tastic .
Robb and Sam had gone to fetch Arya and Gilly from Winterfell, but Sansa had driven herself the day before. Last night had been fine, with Robb and Sam as a buffer Jon had been himself, quiet, broody, but that wasn’t unusual.
“Jon?” Sansa called.
“In here!” He called back. She appeared in the doorway and Jon was shocked at how she could make an oversize grey jumper and black jeans look extraordinary.
“Robb just called, they’re stuck at Winterfell. They storm is too bad to try and make it back up here at the today.”
“Aye, I thought as much.” He ran his hand through his hair. “It might clear up before tomorrow.” He glanced out the window.
“Only if it stops snowing soon, or else it’ll be a couple of days.” Sansa agreed, moving and dropping down onto the window seat beside him. The light illuminated her face, making her eyes seem bluer than a fine spring day, her hair becoming braided fire trailing down her back.
This is going to be a long snow storm .
They were eating dinner in silence, an almost awkward silence, when the power went down. Jon groaned.
“No generator?” Sansa asked calmly.
“Oh we have one, it’s just waiting on a new part.” Jon replied. He heard the clink of cutlery as Sansa continued to eat, unconcerned.
“Firewood?” She asked.
“Plenty.” He replied.
“Then we’ll live.” They continued to eat in the dark and Jon felt strangely at ease.
They had electric lanterns set up in the living room as they sat in front of the fire, rugs wrapped around their shoulders.
“Do you know how to play chess?” Jon asked idly.
“I grew up with Robb “Strategy can win the war” Stark, Mr.“Never lost a game of chess”. The King of the black and white board.” She replied in a passable impression of Robb when he played chess. “There is no way I could not know how to play chess.”
Jon chuckled and pulled their board and pieces out of a draw in his coffee table.
“Up for a game?”
“You’re going to get your ass kicked Snow.”
“Check-fucking-mate!” Sansa cried raising her arms in celebration. She nodded at the imaginary audience that was no doubt cheering for her. “Thank you, thank you.” She began to blow kisses to her imaginary fans like she’d just won an olympic gold medal.
“You’re not cute when you gloat, Stark.” Jon growled playfully, carefully resetting the chess board for their fourth match.
“I’m cute?” Sansa asked. The playful, teasing expression gone from her face, but a smile still on her lips. Jon could feel his cheeks flush.
“Not when you gloat.” he murmured, pretending to be inordinately interested in the placement of his Queen on the board.
“But every other time?” She grinned at him playfully now.
“Most of the time.” He replied under his breath. “Up for another game? I think I have your strategy pretty much figured out.”
Sansa yawned and stretched. “Not tonight, Jon. In the morning?” She stood and the rug fell of her shoulders. They’d both changed into sweatpants and hoodies earlier, realising it was stupid to be uncomfortable while they were trapped in the house. “Fuck it’s cold.” Sansa yelped grabbing her rug and wrapping it around her.
“It’ll be colder in the bedrooms.” Jon commented idly, pushing the game pieces back into their bag.
“Wanna camp down here tonight?” Sansa asked. Jon froze. Both of them, alone, in front of a blazing fire, wrapped in fur rugs. It was like something out of a Gods damned erotic novel. Fuck He thought.
“Sure.” His voice was more strangled than he would’ve liked.
“I’ll grab pillows and blankets and be back!” Sansa smiled and padded off toward the bedrooms. Jon looked around the living room and saw Ghost curled up in his favourite armchair, his red eyes glowing in the firelight.
“How fucked do you think I am mate?” He asked the pure white husky. Ghost shut his eyes and placed a paw across his snout. “Yeah, I think so too.”
Jon woke with his morning hard-on pressed into Sansa’s ass. In the night they had maneuvered themselves into a spooning position, with one of Jon’s arm thrown out and acting as a pillow for Sansa, whilst her leg had twisted in between his own, his other arm was resting on Sansa’s waist with her arm over the top, fingers brushing.
His first reaction was to jerk away and run to the furthest room away from Sansa.
She’s your best mate’s sister .
But he knew if he did that Sansa would wake up and at the moment her breathing was even and deep as she slept. Slowly, gently, Jon began to extract himself from their tangle of limbs. It took him some time and he froze for a solid minute when Sansa’s had stirred slightly, but eventually he was free. He got out from under the pile of blankets and suppressed a hiss at the cold. He looked across at Ghost’s armchair but the dog has abandoned his usual resting place. He glanced around and saw that Ghost had taken up residence across Sansa’s leg, the one that hadn’t been entangle with his.
“Need to go outside, boy?” He whispered to Ghost and the dog pricked up his ears and stood, stretching before walking toward the back door. Jon let Ghost out and turned flicking the lights to see if the power was back on. Not yet. Ghost came back quickly and ran back into the living room, probably to curl up next to Sansa and the warmth again.
Jon turned on the hob, ignoring every snow storm survival kit he’s ever read warning him against this, and put the kettle on. He moved around the kitchen as quietly as he could, preparing tea and some pancakes, he knew Sansa wasn’t fond of eggs.
“You are like a human hot water bottle, did you know that?” Jon almost jumped out of skin as Sansa spoke to him.
“Fuck, you’re quieter than Ghost.” He sputtered, a hand resting on his heart which he was sure has just started beating again.
“Sorry.” Sansa said, not looking sorry at all. “But you are, like a bloody furnace.” She went over to the fridge and stood looking at it for a moment. “It’s fantastic.” With the speed of someone who’s lived through many power outages, Sansa pulled the fridge door open, grabbed what she wanted with speed and accuracy and shut the door quickly. She turned and smiled at Jon.
“You don’t need to worry about letting the cold out.” He said with a smile spreading across his face. “It’s cold enough anyway.” Sansa’s face fell for a second.
“Duh! Sorry! I’m such an idiot.” She dumped the fruit she’d pulled from the fridge onto the bench. “King’s Landing is much warmer, power outages are a danger to all foods.” She said gravely, pulling over a chopping board and a knife, she began slicing fruit. “I had to eat all the ice-cream in my apartment during one power outage. It was a trying time.” She intoned seriously.
“The price you pay for city glamour.” He responded with a chuckle, flipping a pancake onto an awaiting stack and pouring the last of the batter into the pan.
“Thanks for not making eggs.” She murmured. Jon just nodded. “Joff made me eat them all the time. Said that if I loved him, I’d do anything he asked, even little things.”
“That’s fucked up.” Jon commented, feeling rage twisting in his stomach.
“Yeah it is.” Sansa agreed. “It’s the texture.” She continued, trying to erase some of the tension that had filled the kitchen. “It freaks me out. Like jelly.”
“You don’t like jelly?” He asked incredulous
“Food shouldn’t wiggle on its own!” She cried. He laughed and flipped the last pancake out of the pan. They moved to the table and Ghost wandered out and lay down on Sansa’s feet.
“He’s taken to you.” Jon commented.
“He’s got taste.” She lent down and scratched behind Ghost’s ear. She cut some of her pancake and made sure it was drenched in maple syrup. “I’ve taken to you.” She muttered bring the food to her mouth.
Jon felt his cheeks flush.
“You’ve got taste.” he replied, wanting to taste the syrup that had clung to her lower lip.
It was getting dark when Jon reached out for the chessboard at the same time Sansa did and their hands met. He jumped at her icy digits.
“Your hands are freezing!” He took her hands in his and brought them to his lips and blew hot air over them. “Better?” He asked, before looking up. He didn’t realise how close Sansa was. Her eyes luminous and inches from his face.
“Much.” She whispered. Jon saw her eyes dart down to his lips and on instinct his tongue darted out and moistened them. Gods I want to kiss her . The thought had barely formed in his mind when Sansa moved forward and pressed her lips to his.
It was soft and sweet and tentative. She pulled away and Jon followed without thinking until their lips met again. He felt her hand in his hair and he reached out until his hands were on her waist, pulling her toward him as his tongue slipped between her lips to deepen the kiss. She broke away from his lips for a moment and moved her body toward his until she was sat in his lap, straddling him.
His lips found hers again and he was lost in her, in Sansa, in the feel of her lips against his, of the way her fingers tugged gently at his hair, of the soft feeling of her hoodie under his hands. He broke from her mouth and kissed her cheek, her jaw, her neck. She moaned gently when his lips brushed over a spot just below her ear and he returned there, nipping and sucking the flesh delicately.
“Oh, Jon.” She sighed, her hands curling in his hair, her hips moving against his.
She’s your best mate’s sister.
“Shit. Sansa, stop!” He pulled away, feeling guilty for wanting to stay wrapped up in her. Her face was open, broken, hurt.
“I’m sorry.” He said, and even as he said it, he reached a hand out to cup her cheek. She lent into his touch. “I can’t.”
“Can’t?” She asked.
“You’re Robb’s sister. I can’t be with you like that, it would kill him.” It would kill me if you only wanted sex . He thought.
“Fuck Robb!” Sansa stated emphatically. Her brows furrowed and her lips puckered ever so slightly. “He keeps saying I need to stop dating dickheads, stop dating guys who don’t respect me, or know me, and when I find a guy who does, who makes pancakes instead of eggs, I can’t date him-”
“You want to date me?” Jon asked, his other hand coming up to cradle her other cheek. She quirked an eyebrow at him in confusion.
“Um… yeah? I thought that was pretty obvious by the ‘I’m taken with you’ and the kissing you thing.”
“I just thought you just wanted to fuck.” Jon breathed, resting his forehead against hers. His chest felt lighter and warmer than it should in the middle of a storm.
“I’d like to fuck you, but I want to date you too. I want to go to movies, and compare pints at different pubs, and take Ghost on long walks. I want to take you to my friends parties, and have dinner with my parents, and drop of cookies at your work when I procrastinate bake.” She nuzzled her nose against his for a moment. “I want to date you Jon, because you make me want to be patient with Arya, and try new things, and read more books. You make me want to be the best me, ever since you and Robb starting hanging out.”
“That was 3 years ago.” He chuckled.
“Well, I’m a slow learner.” He closed the space between them and kissed her, kissed her knowing she would be there in the morning, knowing she wouldn’t pretend this hadn’t happened, knowing she would make Robb be okay with them dating.
“You make me want to be the best me too.” He whispered. He heard her chuckle and she was kissing him again.
It was about 10 minutes later, layers of clothes chucked carelessly aside, fire dwindling, Ghost politely hiding somewhere else, that the front door opened and the thud of bags being dropped echoed through the house.
Robb turned into the living room and stopped, mouth open, Arya right behind them.
“Snow! Fuckin- seriously?” He exclaimed.
“I think it’s actually Snow fucking Sansa.” Arya replied.