Chapter Text
Sansa
Sansa Stark was fat. She didn’t used to be, but now she was undeniably very fat - as in couldn’t fit in a restaurant booth fat, as in worried like crazy about eating in public lest people judge her choices fat, as in had to order her clothes online because brick-and-mortar stores didn’t carry her size fat.
When she was younger she’d been average sized but still worried about her weight constantly, like pretty much every girl. She was beautiful and it got her a lot of attention, though it wasn’t always welcome. She’d always thought herself fat and ugly, and equated the two, even when she was young and beautiful. She knew it was all in her head, but that didn’t change how she felt, what she truly believed about herself: that she could never be good enough.
Looking back now, Sansa berated herself for having been so stupid in the past. She should have enjoyed that time instead of hating herself and wished she could go back. She had been desperate to please others back then, and had tried really hard, often forgoing her own wants and needs. Somehow she was always left feeling empty inside and like a failure.
And now she really was fat. She kept telling herself what her therapist had said: that it didn’t matter why she was fat. It was not a moral failing or barometer of worthiness. It was hard to believe though, even after she had put up a sticky note on her bathroom mirror with that message on it to remind her. Most days it just made her cry. She was trying, doing her best to really work on her issues. She’d come a long way in her eating disorder recovery, but it was just so hard. Being alone didn’t help matters, either. She’d told herself for years that she was happy being alone, not having to share her space or consult anyone else on what to have for dinner or how to manage her finances or anything, and that was true but it wasn’t the whole picture. The truth was she was afraid to try dating at her size, fearing rejection and ridicule. Even though she was only in her late twenties, it was easier to be alone.
Lately she’d taken to reading romances with a vengeance; she couldn’t put them down. The more she lived vicariously through fictional passions, the more she wanted that for herself in real life, but she just couldn’t imagine that anyone would want her. It was depressing as hell but still she read the books. It was better than nothing, even though it hurt.
Sighing deeply, Sansa got out of bed and decided to try walking to the park again, hoping she could make it that far this time. She’d been trying to walk a little every day, but her stamina was nonexistent.
Sandor
Sandor Clegane hated his face. He hated the way people gaped or looked away when they saw his scars and he hated his own reflection. He didn’t go out much, just to work and that was about it. He did as much of his shopping and errands online as possible, got meals delivered instead of going out, ordered shit he needed off Amazon instead of going to the store; he even ordered his groceries online and requested they be left at his door so he wouldn’t have to see the look on the delivery person’s face when they saw him. He hated the world and everyone in it, he avoided both as much as possible and that was what he was used to. He didn’t like it, but he could live with it.
Sandor was big, really big, and built like a tank. He always had been and he liked it that way - it kept people away from him. Working construction helped keep him fit, and he enjoyed working out in his home gym away from staring eyes; it helped keep him functional most of the time. At least the guys on the worksite were used to his scars and his bad attitude, and nobody fucked with him or even said a word to him unless they had to.
He was lonely.
He hated that he was lonely. He just fucking hated everything, except his dog. Stranger had kept him sane, more or less, through his darkest days. Having a friend who didn’t judge him and who needed him was all that got him out of bed when things were really bad.
Sandor had seen some shit in his life. He’d survived, but barely. As much as he oozed anger and violence, inside he was still that terrified six-year-old boy, beaten by his father and tormented by his vile older brother, the one who’d given him his scars; the little boy whose mother had died when he was so young that he didn’t even really remember her, the little boy whose younger sister had died in spite of Sandor’s desperate efforts to protect her from their brother. He could never forgive himself for that.
You’re pathetic. Stop fucking wallowing like a damn pansy. Suck it up you cunt.
Disgusted with himself, he got up and grabbed Stranger’s leash. Maybe a walk would help him get his shit together, at least for a little while.
Sansa
Keep breathing. In-two-three, out-two-three. In-two-three, out-two-three. You can do this. The bench is right there…keep moving, just a little further.
Sansa was on the verge of tears. She’d made it to the park and was within sight of the half-way point, the bench where she would rest before turning back, but she wasn’t going to make it and she didn’t know what to do. Her lower back was screaming, her feet were a misery, and she was sweating under the bright sun, red-faced and starting to wheeze. She looked around nervously to see if there were people nearby who might see her this way, and unfortunately there were.
Forgot my inhaler again! Just keep breathing.
Her breathing was getting worse, and she was starting to feel light-headed, when out of nowhere she felt a shove against her hips and next thing she knew she was on the ground and a dog was licking her face. Somewhere nearby someone was cursing loudly, but she couldn’t quite focus enough to make out the words. She was done. Between her asthma and all her aches and pains and now being on the ground, she gave up and started to cry.
The face-licking had stopped and someone was shaking her by the shoulder. Lying down felt so much better than walking, she was tempted to keep her eyes closed and stay here on the ground for a while, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to get up on her own so she’d better ask whomever it was for a hand. She opened her eyes and was stunned to see a face looming above her. The first thing she noticed was the eyes - they were gray and fringed with thick dark lashes and were staring at her. There was a curtain of dark hair falling around his face and a thick beard on his jaw. Yep, definitely a man. She was too stunned to take in anything else about him before he sat back out of her view.
“Are you okay lady? Sorry about my dog, he’s a total cunt about jumping up on people.”
She blinked. Reality was awfully weird, maybe she was dreaming? The man shook her again.
“Hey! Yoo hoo!” He snapped his fingers in front of her face a couple of times rudely, and now she was starting to get irritated. She groaned and rolled over onto her side and tried to get her knees under her, but it was no good. Getting up was really hard, and that was one of her biggest fears about being fat and alone: being unable to get herself up off the floor if she fell. She realized there was a small crowd gathered around and her face turned beet red, her fair complexion betraying her humiliation. Hot tears streamed down her face as she heard a few snickers and comments from the people around her. No one offered to help.
“Fuck off you cunts! The fuck you lookin’ at? Fuck outta here!” The man’s voice was deep and menacing and the crowd quickly dispersed.
Sansa tried to slow her breathing and get her face under control. She was even more mortified now that the man was shouting and cursing. She just wanted to curl up and die, or maybe become invisible. She became aware that the man was still there, now sitting on the ground beside her. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t leave either. She opened her eyes and looked again and realized that he was absolutely enormous. From her position on the ground she couldn’t gauge exactly how tall he was, but he was built like a brick wall and definitely well over six feet. He also had some nasty looking scars on one side of his face. The thing that held her attention though was once again his eyes. They were intense, and at first she wasn’t sure what she was seeing there. Anger? Pain? Fear? It seemed like all of the above and it puzzled her.
“Hi,” she said awkwardly. “Thank you for staying with me; sorry I freaked out. I’m Sansa, by the way.”
The man stared at her for a long time and she started to feel like an idiot. He must think she was crazy after freaking out, crying, and the fact that she was *still* on the ground.
“Sandor,” he said. “My dog is Stranger and he’s a cunt. Sorry.”
Sansa wasn’t sure what to make of that statement so she just smiled weakly. Now that her breathing had slowed and the wheezing eased a bit, she was able to get to her hands and knees but knew she’d need a hand to get to standing.
“Could you please help me up?” she asked, trying to sound casual about it.
The man said nothing but got to his feet and she swallowed hard. His legs were like tree trunks; very muscular, hairy, sexy tree trunks. He reached a massive hand down toward her and she grasped it tightly. She gasped as he pulled her up effortlessly and she found herself suddenly on her feet in front of him, eye level with his chest. She craned her head back to look up at him. Gods he was tall!
“You gonna be okay?” he asked, sounding uncomfortable and looking away as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.
“Yeah, I just need to get to the bench and sit down for a bit and then I’ll walk home,” she replied. She must have looked really pitiful, because he stared at her with his eyebrow raised, looking skeptical.
Sansa let out a breath and looked toward the bench. Her knees were stinging, her ankle hurt, and her back and feet still hurt too. She felt like a damn fool and just wanted to get away from this person who had witnessed her shame up close and personal. She took a step in the direction of the bench and hissed as she tried to put her weight down on her ankle.
“Ouch!” she cried out as her ankle gave way. She didn’t hit the ground again though; strong hands had caught her upper arms and steadied her.
His hands go all the way around my arms!
His hands were warm and rough against her skin; the fact that they encircled her upper arms easily made her feel almost…dainty. She usually felt like an elephant around other people, but not next to him. She looked up and saw him, Sandor , looking down at her. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. This was her worst nightmare - being humiliated in public - and also a dream come true - a big strong man with his hands on her. She realized she hadn’t been touched by anyone in a long, long time.
Sandor
He hadn’t been paying attention to his surroundings, too lost in his own head. Stranger was whining and pulling on his leash and finally tore it out of Sandor’s distracted hand. Next thing he knew he heard a shriek and his head snapped up to see a large red-headed woman on the ground, Stranger licking her face madly and wagging his whole ass along with his tail.
What the fuck?
“Stranger, come! Stranger you fucking cunt, get your ass over here!” Damn dog. He really needed to get back to training him properly; he’d gotten lax about it and Stranger was too big of a mutt to be jumping on people like that. He just hoped the broad wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it. He walked over and grabbed Stranger by the collar and hauled him off of her. “Bad dog! Go lie down!” he said. Stranger gave him a guilty look and laid down in the grass with a huff.
Sandor looked at the woman on the ground and started to panic; her face was red, she was gasping for breath, and her eyes looked dazed. Fuck. Had Stranger really hurt her? He knelt down beside her and shook her by the shoulder, trying to get her attention. She looked up at him for a moment, then closed her eyes again.
He was focused so intently on the woman on the ground that he didn’t realize at first that a small crowd had gathered around them. He heard snickers and a couple nasty epithets directed towards her. When he looked up to glare at the fuckers he heard the gasps and saw the wide eyes when they saw his scars.
“Fuck off you cunts! The fuck you lookin’ at? Fuck outta here!” he shouted.
He was so pissed off. Fucking cunts. He didn’t know what made him angrier, shitheads making fun of a lady who was clearly in distress, or shitheads staring at his fucking scars. He was so done with this shit.
The woman seemed to be catching her breath finally and tried to talk to him, but he was so busy being angry that he only heard the last bit:
“I’m Sansa, by the way.”
She was looking at him, but she didn’t flinch away from his face. Her eyes were blue. So fucking blue. He couldn’t look away and it started to feel awkward.
“Sandor,” he said. “My dog is Stranger and he’s a cunt. Sorry.”
Idiot! You sound like a fucking idiot!
“Could you please help me up?” she asked. Her voice was shaky and it made Sandor twitch. He’d had to deal with more than enough emotions in the last ten minutes to last him the rest of the year.
Don’t fucking start crying again woman, for fucks sake.
“You gonna be okay?” he asked nervously once she was upright. He really didn’t need a fucking personal injury lawsuit or some shit. Plus she seemed nice and he knew it was his fault that his dog was out of control.
She said she just needed to rest for a minute before walking home, but one look at her and he knew she wasn’t going anywhere. She was a mess and looked to be in pain. He raised his one good eyebrow at her. She took a step and her ankle gave out. Without thinking he reached out and grabbed her by the upper arms to keep her from falling again. She was so soft he sucked in a breath.
Damn. Soft skin, soft fleshy arms. Squeezable. Nice. The fuck is wrong with me?
He shook his head to clear it.
“That ankle is sprained at the very least. Let’s get you over to that bench.” Without asking, he slipped his right arm under her left and wrapped it around her to support her injured side. She froze and he realized what he’d done.
“Shit, sorry!” He started to pull away, she started to fall again, and he caught her against his chest. “Let’s try that again,” he said, awkwardly stepping back and holding her out at arm’s length.
“It’s okay, you just surprised me. Thank you for helping me,” she said. She smiled up at him and it felt like the sun had just come out from behind a cloud; she fucking glowed .
He put his arm back around her and she limped slowly toward the bench. He let her down gently and she breathed a sigh of relief, closing her eyes. He just stood there not knowing what to do until she opened her eyes and smiled at him again.
Fuck.
“Will you sit for a bit?” she asked, biting her bottom lip. It was fucking adorable. Gritting his teeth and cursing himself for a fool, he sat down next to her on the bench. Between her roundness and his bulk, he was grateful that the bench was cement and very sturdy.
He didn’t know what to do with his hands; he didn’t know where to look; he didn’t know what to say, and he hated it. He should have just stayed home. He hadn’t wanted to talk to or look at anyone and now here he was sitting next to some chick and not knowing what the fuck to do. At least Stranger was behaving himself. Once Sandor called him over he sat politely and laid his head on the woman’s - Sansa’s - lap. She smiled at him and started stroking his ears and ruffling his fur.
“Who’s a good boy? Huh? Who is it? It’s you! You’re the good boy! Such a sweet puppy,” she gushed. Sandor rolled his eyes.
Ugh. Chicks .
“Let me look at that ankle,” he demanded.
“No!” she exclaimed sharply, then brought her hand up to cover her mouth as she blushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude,” she whispered and looked away.
“It’s okay. You need a ride somewhere? You probably shouldn’t walk on it,” he said.
What the fuck am I doing? Did I just offer her a ride? I don’t give a shit about some random broad stranded in a park all alone with a bum ankle and….fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
“I’m afraid you’re right. I should call an Uber or something,” she replied.
“I’ll get it,” he said before he could stop himself and she just stared at him.
Sansa
Now what? Sansa thought to herself. He’d half carried her to the bench and not even the pain in her ankle could distract her from the feeling of being pressed up against the side of his body and of his arm around her. He was so warm, and hard . Gods he was hard everywhere, muscles for miles. She’d never have been attracted to a man like him back when she was thin and still dated. She’d always gone for the lean and smooth types, golden and smiling.
And look how that had turned out.
Sandor was the antithesis of her old type, but apparently her body hadn’t gotten the memo because damn, his proximity was doing things to her. Finally seated on the bench, she didn’t know what to do next, but she knew she didn’t want him to leave.
“Will you sit for a bit?” she asked. Please, she thought, willing him to stay. He sat down and called over the dog. The big black floof came running over and plopped his heavy head right down in her lap and looked up at her with enormous brown eyes, as if begging forgiveness. It was so sweet she couldn’t help herself.
“Who’s a good boy? Huh? Who is it? It’s you! You’re the good boy! Such a sweet puppy,” she cooed.
His fur was surprisingly soft and she relished the way it felt when she ran her hands through it. She loved dogs, but she’d never been able to have one of her own when she lived at home because her father was allergic to them, and then once she was on her own it just wasn’t practical; she lived in tiny apartments or with roommates and they either wouldn’t allow dogs or there just wasn’t enough space. She knew it wouldn’t have been fair to keep a dog cooped up in an apartment anyway.
Sandor was quiet for a bit and then suddenly blurted out, “Let me look at that ankle.” She panicked and practically shouted “No!” right in his face. She didn’t want him looking at her cankles. It was stupid, she knew. It wasn’t like he didn’t already know she was fat; looking more closely at one part of her body wasn’t going to change that. She just couldn’t bear the thought of his disgust once he saw her up close.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude,” she said, her eyes starting to sting.
No more crying! Stop being so weak!
Next thing she knew he was ordering an Uber for her. She couldn’t tell if any of this was real at this point. The man was clearly rude and crude and rough around the edges, but at the same time he’d been patient and careful with her. He didn’t seem to care that she was fat; it was almost like he didn’t even notice. He treated her like a human being and it made her feel pathetic to realize how much that meant to her. She figured he could maybe relate to being self-conscious, because of his scars; that had to be hard to live with every day, people taunting and staring. She understood it all too well.
He helped her down the path to the curb to wait for the car, supporting her with one arm while his other hand held Stranger’s leash. It was so nice, just being next to him like this; she didn’t want it to end. Her mind started to wander, imagining him coming home with her, having a drink together, kissing…
Stop it. Nobody wants to kiss you. You’re being ridiculous.
She was beating herself up for being stupid again, when it occurred to her that she didn’t know how she was going to get from the car to the apartment. Maybe she should go straight to the Urgent Care clinic instead? But then how would she get home?
Crap. She started to tear up and turned her head away from him. Not now!
“You okay?” he asked, sounding gruff. He cleared his throat and almost sounded nervous.
Why would he be nervous? He’s the big strong man here. He’s probably worried I’m going to hit on him or something. Ugh. I’m so pathetic.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Just thinking I should probably go to Urgent Care and get a brace or a crutch or something, instead of going straight home.”
“Yeah, probably a good idea.”
Sandor
The Uber was just a few minutes away and he was starting to sweat. He felt like an idiot waiting with this stranger - no, not a stranger, Sansa - not knowing what the hell he was doing here. This had been a shit day from first light until about five minutes ago; that was when he had realized that he didn’t actually hate her, and even weirder, he didn’t want to let her go. She was soft, and she smelled nice. Her hair was like copper when it caught the sun, with strands of bronze and gold mixed in. It was long and silky and he really, really wanted to run his fingers through it, but he didn’t want to be a creep.
What the fuck man? Get a fucking grip on yourself. You hate everyone, remember?
But he didn’t hate Sansa. She didn’t stare at his scars or run away from him - well technically she couldn’t run away - but that wasn’t the point. He knew she’d noticed his face, but she just didn’t seem to care. She hadn’t been scared when he was rude and shouted and cursed, either. And then when she smiled at him he felt like his head would explode. Or was that his chest? His heart maybe? It just felt so genuine, like she really meant it, and what’s more, she meant it for him.
Fuck. I’m fucked.
He was flustered and confused. He didn’t want anything to change in his tightly-controlled world, didn’t want any fucking complications, and Sansa was making things complicated, making him feel things . She seemed like a good-natured person; she certainly loved dogs and Stranger liked her. She wasn’t even a little bit angry with him or his dog for knocking her down and hurting her ankle and getting her all scraped up and dirty. Yes, she cried, but that wasn’t too surprising. Life was shit after all, and people were shit too. He knew what it felt like to be stared at and mocked, but he responded with curses and fists, whereas Sansa just seemed to wilt. Sandor was angry on her behalf. Fucking cunts. She was a sweet girl with a beautiful smile and she didn’t deserve to be treated like shit just because she was big. She probably couldn’t help it, any more than he could help being a big ugly fucker. He wanted to punch the next person who laughed at her. Fuck it, he just wanted to punch someone in general. He wanted to keep her safe. He didn’t want her to wilt like that anymore.
What am I supposed to do now?
“Look, uh…”
“Sandor, I…”
They both started to speak at the same time.
“Go ahead,” he told her, wondering what she was going to say while at the same time relishing the way his name sounded when she said it.
“I, um, want to thank you for being so kind and helpful with this…this….”
“Clusterfuck?” he chuckled. She laughed too and it was the most musical fucking sound he had ever heard. He wanted to hear it again and know that he was the one who’d made it happen.
“Yeah, that. Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you and I really appreciate it. I hope your day gets better after this. Would be hard for it to get any worse!” she said with a grin that was so bright it almost hurt his eyes. He could see the car about to pull up to the curb and his brain scrambled to come up with a way to stay with her.
“I’m coming with you,” he said, as the car came to a stop. He cringed internally at how he sounded, and hoped she hadn’t noticed.
“What?” she asked, looking confused. “Why? I mean, that’s really sweet but you don’t need to do that. I’ll be fine.” Her brow was creased; she bit her lower lip again and he found he couldn't look away.
“I’m paying for the Urgent Care visit. That shit’s expensive and this is totally my fault.” She just stared at him with those eyes and he couldn’t make words anymore. The driver honked at them and they both jumped. He had to bite his tongue hard to keep from telling the guy to fuck off; they really did need the ride.
“Come on, no more arguing. You’re going to Urgent Care and I’m going with you. Get in the damn car.” Shit . He sounded like an asshole. Control your damn temper you bastard.
She had squeaked when he snapped at her, actually squeaked, but she didn’t argue anymore and let him help her into the back of the car. The driver started to bitch and moan when Stranger jumped in too, but Sandor gave him a death glare and the guy shut up. He gave his home address and told the driver to go there first so he could drop off the dog, but to wait for him and then take them to the Urgent Care clinic. The driver shouldn’t give a fuck where they went, the more miles the more money, Sandor figured. Sansa was staring at him, and he wondered what she was thinking. Did he scare her? Did she hate him? Maybe she thought he was some kind of creep and was trying to figure out how to get rid of him.
“What?” he asked sharply. She smiled at him again. Smiled .
“Nothing,” she replied, and started to hum a little tune. It was so sweet his teeth hurt.
Fuck.