Work Text:
The Flower Shop Parking Spot
Sansa
Margaery barged into the work area where Sansa was currently arranging a bouquet of peonies, iced coffees in hand, designer handbag on her arm. Her lips pursed as she almost growled as she slammed the drinks on the counter. “I can’t do it, Sansa. I’ve tried. I’ve been nice, I’ve flirted, I offered to make him a free bouquet for his sweetheart.” Sansa must have scoffed a little at that. “Okay, I offered for you to make a bouquet for his sweetheart,” Marg corrected. “But the dude is an insufferable asshole.”
“The tall one? With the black hair? And the,” Sansa motioned to her own face. The gentleman in question had scars that marred his otherwise handsome face. At least, that’s what she’d seen when she’d seen him.
“That’s the one. I asked, very sweetly mind you, could you not park your motorcycle in the spot directly in front of our shop? It takes up a spot our customers could be using, and it’s so small, you could park it in the alleyway. Like I said, I was very sweet and professional about it. Do you know what he said to me?” Margaery asked before dropping her voice an octave to sound gruff like garage owner. “How much fuckin’ business could a flower shop get anyway?”
Sansa sighed. Their business hadn’t been opened more than six months and making enemies of the neighbor was not a good idea. The Rose and the Wolf, their floral shop was called, conceived as part of a college project in business class, made a reality with funding from Margaery’s grandmother and Sansa’s talent for flower arranging. Their next-door neighbor in the small strip of businesses was an auto repair garage, the shops a complete juxtaposition to each other. The auto shop, called Three Dogs Garage, often played loud hard rock music during the day which drifted through the paper-thin walls to the florist next door. Sansa didn’t complain though. In fact, she actually kind of liked it, thinking the rock music brought back memories of sharing a room with her little sister, Arya. Marg hated it though. After a few days of non-stop Metallica, Margaery marched her mini-skirt clad self over to beg they turn it down. In response, the next day, the volume was even louder.
Margaery opened the refrigerator where the flowers were kept and shoved her head into it, clearly the argument had caused her blood to boil. “I can’t handle it, Sansa!” she yelled into the cool box. Sansa knew exactly what that meant and she groaned, knowing what her friend was about to suggest. “Unless…”
“NO,” Sansa said.
Margaery pulled her head out and shut the refrigerator. “You might be more his type. Maybe he prefers redheads.” Marg’s eyes roamed Sansa’s body. “And…if we take this cardigan off,” she moved to remove the sweater Sansa wore to reveal the seer-sucker spaghetti strapped dress she wore. “Good, you can see your tattoos,” Margaery pointed the delicate roses inked onto her shoulder and down her right arm. “He has tattoos so he’ll like that, right?” Margaery stared at her again. “Take your bra off.”
Sansa’s eyes widened. “No, Margaery.”
Marg rolled her eyes. “Oh come on. It’s warm enough outside you won’t see your nipples. Unless that’s what he’s into, then…”
Sansa groaned again but complied, removing her bra and handing it to Margaery. “Should I take my panties off too?”
“It’s not a bad idea,” Margaery smiled. The woman who Sansa had once called a friend leaned down and slipped her heels off. “Trade me.” Sansa knew better than to argue at this point and slid her flats off to replace them with Margaery’s high heels. “Now, take your braid out and let your hair down, you look hotter that way.” Sansa did as he friend requested, undoing the braid, leaving a gentle wave to her hair.
“This escalated quickly,” Sansa said as she looked down at herself.
“Are you opposed to fucking him if need be?” Margaery asked.
Sansa coughed before turning on her heels and stumbling. She caught herself before she fell but if this was any indication of what was to come…She tried to walk with confidence and listened to the tingling of the bells above the floral shop’s door. Luckily the distance between the two shops was only a few feet and she took several deep breaths before she walked into the entry of the open garage door.
Sansa looked at the current muscle car in the bay and sighed. Because Sansa had a secret she hadn’t told anyone. Especially Margaery. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, Arya knew but Arya was like Fort Knox when it came to secrets. This was not the first time Sansa Stark had made the walk to the garage.
The mechanic working on a car lifted his head. “In his office,” Bronn said pointing towards the area in the corner.
Sansa marched, closing the door before locking it and turning the rod to close the blinds. “What can I do for you, little bird?” the deep voice behind her said.
“Don’t little bird me, Sandor. You have to be nicer. Margaery’s ready to call the building owners and complain,” Sansa shoved her hands in the pocket of her apron.
Sandor kicked his feet up on his desk, put his hands behind his head and took a deep breath that sounded more like a sigh. “Imagine her surprise when she finds out I own the whole fucking building.”
Sansa rolled her eyes at him. “Sandor, just…please. She won’t let up, you know she won’t.”
“And what will you give me if I promise not to mess with the Rose’s thorns?” Sandor raised an eyebrow.
Sansa chewed her bottom lip and swallowed hard. “What do you want exactly?” She shouldn’t ask because part of her knew, part of her wanted it too.
Sandor chuckled. “Come here and I’ll show you.”
This was not the first time Sandor Clegane had made such a request. And it was not the first time Sansa Stark would comply. One night, just after the floral shop opened, she let her curiosity get the better of her. As she looked up the roar of a loud engine carried Sansa’s feet to the garage. Sandor Clegane was alone, working on an older muscle car, and cursing while he threw wrenches over his shoulder. She must have watched for a good five minutes before he noticed her.
“Whatdya want, girl?” he’d asked. Sansa couldn’t take her eyes off the v-necked white shirt that clung to his muscles like a second skin, the tattoos visible on his collar bone, the way his jeans were tucked into his dark boots.
It took twenty minutes before the garage door was closed and Sansa lay spread eagle on the hood of the car while Sandor thrust into her, all the while Sansa chirping, “I never do this…” Sansa wasn’t that type of girl. She’d had exactly two boyfriends in her life, she’d only ever had sex with them, one ending amicably (thank the gods for Pod) and one ending in disaster (fuck Joffery Baratheon). But there was something about Sandor that lured Sansa in, made her do things she never thought she would do, like have sex on the hood of a car with a complete stranger.
Now, though, Sandor wasn’t a stranger. Their relationship was…clandestine but very real…secret but passionate. Sansa Stark was in love with Sandor Clegane, if she were being honest. He was rough and rugged and everything she’d never thought she wanted. But he was also strong and gentle and sweet. They would spend nights cuddled on his couch in the apartment above the garage, they would take turns cooking dinner, and occasionally, she’d wrap her arms around him while they rode his motorcycle to a bed-and-breakfast outside of town.
In his office at that moment though, she knew he was about to be in control. And it excited her like nothing else could. His boots left their place on the corner of his desk, meeting the ground, and he moved his hand in a motion that indicated he wanted Sansa in his lap. “Might be that little dress you’re wearing’s doing things to me,” his voice sounded like a thunderstorm. Sansa started to sit, like a child might sit in Santa’s lap. “Not like that, little bird. Not yet.”
Sansa took another breath and put her knees on either side of his legs, earning her a dangerous grin from her beau. She felt his hands on the back of her thighs as she started to move up to place her ass met her legs. The action startled her and her body jumped forward, causing her to wrap her arms around his neck. “I want…” she trailed off.
“Oh I know what you want,” he nuzzled her neck with her nose before placing his lips just under her ear to create a little suction.
“No hickeys, Sandor,” she breathed out, secretly wanting him to plant himself there.
Sansa felt him chuckle as he lips traveled down her neck, depositing wet kisses down to the tops of her breasts. “Sandor…”
He extricated his lips from her chest and straightened up enough that Sansa reached the bottom of his t-shirt, sliding her hands underneath, before pulling it over his head. Her lips immediately found their way to his collarbone and the tattoo that resided there: “Come Hell or High Water” written in cursive script. He had explained the words became a mantra when he was fresh out of the Army, with no money, and a desire to own his own garage. “I knew I’d do it, come Hell or high water…”
Now it was the perfect place for her tongue to dance while her nimble fingers worked to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his jeans. Sandor’s hands slid under her panties to cup her cheeks, as he gave them a light squeeze. “I’m gonna take these off, little bird?”
“Yes,” she breathed out again. He didn’t push them down. No, that was not Sandor’s way. He pulled hard and Sansa felt the lace rip. This had become a common occurrence when they met up in his office. She pulled back as his jeans hit the floor. “You’re going to have to buy me more panties if you keep doing that.”
“Do I get to pick ‘em out?” he asked when her fingers inched to the elastic of his boxers.
“Maybe,” she answered. She pushed the boxers down to release him. “How are you already this hard?” she asked as she wrapped her fingers around his length, gently moving up and down.
She kissed at his neck, his chest, his lips. “I stay hard, knowing you’re next door all day. Wearin’ little dresses, smilin’ at people when they come in, singin’ to yourself,” Sandor’s hands flipped her over so her stomach and chest rested on his desk. “Are you wet for me, Sansa?” She didn’t have time to respond before his fingers were there, rubbing back and forth, causing her to moan and bite her lip. “Ah, that’s a good little bird,” he kissed her spine. She felt his hands pushing her dress up and felt the cool breeze of the air conditioner on her rear as Sandor’s knees pushed her own further apart.
“Sandor, please,” she moaned, reaching behind her to find him and pull him closer to her. He groaned at the contact. Sansa felt him move his fingers from her lady parts, only to be replaced by the head of his cock.
“Fuck…” Sandor slowly pushed inside her. She knew that he knew that she hated it when he went slow. Sansa preferred hard and fast to slow and steady. But she also knew that Sandor liked to tease her, liked to make her beg for it, just a little. “You feel so good, Sansa. I could live here, just stay right here.”
Sansa groaned as his slow thrust continued, subtly in and out. Not that it didn’t feel good, that it didn’t create a delicious friction. “Sandor, are you going to tease me or are you going to fuck me?” she said, surprised herself that the words came out of her mouth.
Sandor chuckled and leaned down so his breath met her ear. “My naughty little bird,” he said, moving to do exactly what she wanted. The speed and intensity of his thrust increased, hitting that spot inside Sansa that caused her legs to shake.
“Gods…” she moaned out. She could feel the coil in her belly tightening, her knees starting to give. Luckily, Sandor held her weight as he wrapped an arm around and then put the other on her head to turn her face to kiss him. The action twisted her body at just an angle…she could hear the moans coming from her mouth, heard them raise an octave, but what she felt, the way her body tightened around Sandor, she couldn’t control the guttural moan that left her mouth.
“That’s my good little bird,” Sandor’s rough voice whispered, heavy with sex. She knew by the tone that he wasn’t far behind her. His tongue met the roses of her tattoos and she rotated her hips to heighten his sensation. “Fuck me…” His breathing increased and within three fast thrust, he groaned. “Sansa…”
She couldn’t help but smile at the sound of her name on his lips as he came. Sandor liked to believe that he had a little dominance over her but a thrill ran through her when she knew the power she had over him.
They stayed that way as they both tried to catch their breath. Sandor moved a few pieces of hair out of the way to kiss Sansa’s cheek. It was a sincere and sweet movement that felt more intimate than the fact that he continued to stay inside her.
“Move in with me,” Sandor said, sliding his hands to her abdomen and holding her to him and placing gentle kisses on the flowers of her tattoo.
Sansa felt herself gasp. “Don’t tease me, Sandor. You know I’m sensitive,” she said.
He nuzzled her neck with his nose. “I’m not teasin’ you, little bird. You know I love you, girl.” She did not in fact know that he loved her because he’d never said it before. “You know I want to marry you, put my pups in you. You’re it for me, Sansa.”
She felt him slip out of her and she turned around to look him in the eyes. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious.”
Sandor took a deep breath and scrubbed his hands over his face. He reached down and pulled his jeans and boxers back on as he explained, “I’m bein’ serious but I don’t want your answer right now. I want you to think about it and tell me tomorrow.”
She pulled her skirt down and put her hand on his cheeks. “I lov—”
“Nope,” Sandor put his finger on her lips. “I don’t want you to say anything until tomorrow.”
Sansa shoved his hand away. “Can you at least promise you won’t park in the spot anymore? Please?”
Sandor chuckled and turned Sansa to face the door before pulling his t-shirt over his head. “I won’t park in the damn spot anymore,” he said, adding a little slap to her ass as he unlocked the door. “You wanna stay here for little bit? I can probably convince Bronn and Gregor to run things for the rest of the day.”
“As amazing as that sounds, I need to finish up bouquets for a wedding tomorrow,” Sansa sighed.
Sandor gave her a grin and then pulled her in for a deep kiss, pressing her into the doorway of his office. The whistles started immediately.
“That’s why he’s not been so pissed off lately,” Bronn yelled across the way.
She pulled back and looked in Sandor’s eyes. Gods, I love him, she thought to herself. “I lov—” she started again, but Sandor was quick and put his finger over her lips again.
“Tomorrow, little bird,” he gave her a quick peck on the lips.
Sansa was acutely aware of the fact she had no panties now and would have to saunter back to the flower shop, Sandor’s seed running down her leg. She couldn’t work like that for the rest of the day. She’d have to make some excuse to Marg and then stay late to finish up the order. As quickly as she could, she opened the door to the flower shop and grabbed her purse.
Before she could leave though, Margaery stood in front of her. “So?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah, he won’t park in the spot anymore,” Sansa said, searching for her keys in the Mary Poppins bag of a purse she carried. “I need to run home really quick and I’ll be back.”
She prayed that Margaery wouldn’t ask, but she knew better. “Everything okay? Arya leave the stove on again?”
“Hm, oh, yes. I…” Sansa racked her brain for a good excuse. Margaery crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes as she looked at her. Sansa was coming up empty.
“Eh, just bring me back an ice cream from The Wall on your way back, kay?” Margaery asked. Sansa nodded before doing another walk of shame towards her car.
***
Sandor
Sandor pretended to be helping Bronn but the truth was, he was watching the little white Prius that sat in front of the flower shop next door. He knew his little bird and there was no way she would go the rest of the day with no panties and smelling like sex. So he watched for the flash of red hair and the red taillights before carrying himself next door.
“How can I—” the brunette started but stopped when she recognized him. She crossed her arms and glared at him. “It’s you. What do you want?”
“Flowers. Last I checked this was a flower shop,” Sandor grumbled.
The girl scoffed. “What was it you said to me? How much fucking business can a flower shop do?”
Sandor growled. “Look here, Princess, you said you’d give me a free bouquet for my sweetheart, yeah? If I promise to stop parking in front of your shop?” Sandor asked rhetorically.
“Yes,” the snooty girl said to him. For the life of him, Sandor couldn’t figure out how this girl and his girl were friends. Everything Sandor knew about this one was that she was great with a pocketbook, used her good looks to get what she wanted, flirted with anyone. In his opinion she was nowhere near as beautiful as Sansa, and he knew there was no way she’d know how to put together a bouquet if her life depended on it. “What type of flowers?”
Without even a thought, Sandor answered: “Blue Winter Roses.” One night when he and Sansa were laying on the couch, he asked her what her favorite flower was. The true Northerner that she was, she told him a story of how Blue Winter Roses grew in a greenhouse behind their family home. He remembered that.
“Ah, your sweetheart is a Northern girl,” Margaery wrote something on the notepad in front of her.
“Maybe. Look, you’re not to tell anyone else about this. Not even the redhead that works here,” Sandor pointed to the back room where he knew Sansa usually worked her magic.
“But she’s the one who does the arrangements. How can I keep it from her?” The brunette asked.
“Don’t know. That’s on you. Bring it to the garage in the morning,” Sandor didn’t let her say anything else before marching out the door.
He had only made it half a yard when the brunette yanked open the door. “Wait!” the annoying girl yelled back at him. He stopped and turned to look at her. The girl tapped her foot and stared at him.
“Come on, girl, I don’t have all day!” he barked at her.
Then the girl smirked. “These flowers are for Sansa, aren’t they? She thinks I don’t know that you two are…whatever you are. About six months ago, right after we moved in and opened the store, the normally sullen Sansa suddenly perked up. I knew she was getting laid, I just hadn’t pinpointed who it was. But when she came back from the garage and our problem was solved, I figured it out.”
“Aye, and what makes you think she didn’t just fuck me to keep me out of the spot?” Sandor asked.
The girl laughed. “Because Sansa Stark doesn’t casually fuck anyone.” Sandor looked at her incredulously. The girl sighed. “I’ll bring your flowers in the morning.” She turned on her heels and walked back to the store.
Sandor had a plan. Sansa had told him she wasn’t sure he was serious about her moving in with him. He was pretty damn dead serious. Honestly, for a man who never imagined falling in love, living with someone else, getting married, having pups, it was an epiphany for Sandor when it hit him. He figured it was too soon to propose, knew Sansa was more traditional than that, would want him to meet her parent first, etc. Those things would happen…eventually.
The next morning, just after ten, the brunette showed up with Blue Winter Roses in hand. Bronn popped his head from under a hood.
“’Ello, pretty lady. Them flowers for me?” he asked.
The brunette giggled like a fucking teenager. “Afraid not,” she moved and put her hand out like rich women did. Bronn took it and kissed it. “Margaery Tyrell.”
“Bronn Blackwater,” he responded. “Lovely to meet you.”
Sandor groaned. “Alright, stop eye fucking each other.” Sandor reached for the bouquet. “Did she ask who they were for?”
The Margaery girl giggled again and flicked her wrist back to keep him from taking the flowers. “Of course she did. I told her they were for a new customer who would likely be spending a lot more money on flowers in the days to come.” She finally relinquished the flowers to him. “Just be good to her.”
Sandor nodded. He took the bouquet to his office and pulled open the door of his desk. He pulled out the key he’d had made to his apartment above the garage and used a zip tie he found on his desk to attach it. He took a deep breath. Margaery and Bronn continued to flirt with each other and Sandor rolled his eyes as he walked past them. He took the few steps to the flower, hearing the bell ring above the door as he entered.
“Be right there,” Sansa’s sweet voice rang out from the back. “How can I…” She looked at him surprised. “Sandor?”
“Um,” he suddenly felt nervous and felt his hand shove the flowers towards her. “These are for you.”
Sansa’s face lit up as she looked at them. “I put these together, this morning. They were for you?”
He felt his courage come back to him. “Yeah, little bird. But I added something.” She looked at the flowers and saw the zip tied key. “I was bein’ serious yesterday. I want you to move in with me.” He walked closer to her. “That key’s yours if you want it.” Sansa held the bouquet and Sandor wrapped her in his arms. “I love you, Sansa Stark. And one day I’m gonna make you mine forever. But we’re gonna start with this.”
Sansa’s eyes were glazed with unshed tears. “Sandor…I love you so much.” She put the bouquet on the counter and then jumped to wrap her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.
“So will you move in with me? Share my apartment?” he asked.
She nodded and then leaned to kiss him gently. “As long as you promise I can still come to your office and lock the door and close the blinds and—”
He stopped her with a hard kiss. “My desk is yours, little bird,” he said before resuming their kiss.
She pulled back to smile at him. “And you’ll meet my parents?”
Sandor wanted to growl but he nodded. “For you, little bird, I’d do anything.”