Okay, so I made a comment on Tumblr about buying six pairs of shoes the other day and one of my followers responded with the prompt below:

heliotropa said: As penance, you need to tell us about how The Hound went shoe shopping with either Sansa or Arya.

The result is this fluffy little one-shot :)

Chapter 1

"Why are we in here?" The Hound demanded of Arya as they walked through the brightly lit, high-end department store.

Currently, they were walking through the ladies footwear department. The signs above the displays bore the names of expensive designers; Ferragamo, Louboutin, Miu Miu and Jimmy Choo among others.

"Shoes," she replied simply, "we're looking for shoes, remember?"

"No," he replied, "I'm supposed to be looking for a present for your sister. I don't recall saying anything about shoes."

"All right, fine. I'm looking for shoes," Arya clarified, "we can look for Sansa's present when I'm done."

"This better not take long, I haven't got all day." Sandor eyed his wristwatch.

"Have you figured out what you're going to get her yet?" Arya asked him.

He hadn't, and he made a noise that confirmed as much to Arya.

"You're almost out of time, Hound." Arya clucked her tongue. "Christmas is just around the corner, in case you hadn't realized."

"I know that!" he snapped at the diminutive brunette.

"Then you'd better figure it out quickly, hadn't you?" Arya smirked at him, before wondering off towards a display of leather boots.

He and Sansa had been together over a year, and known each other longer than that. He liked to think that he had come to know her better than anyone. Yet even after all that time, he always found it difficult choosing presents for her.

What do you buy a girl who has everything?

She hadn't been the easiest person to get to know. She always presented a polite and courteous front to all but her family, and at first he'd found that falseness irritating.

He'd cursed her for it, at the start. She'd been fearful of him as well, and his scars.

It had been some time before they would call each other friends, and longer still before he had believed they could become more.

Yet more they had become. He smiled to himself.

Sansa had pursued him, and convinced him that her feelings for him were true. She let him get to know the real Sansa. Slowly, but surely, he learned the things that made her laugh and smile for real.

She liked to watch puppies and kittens playing, and seeing elderly couples holding hands. She would laugh when they got caught in the rain, and enjoyed wrapping her hands around an extra large mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows. She read romance novels, and watched cartoons, and perused through magazines on embroidery when the rest of her friends read glossy fashion ones.

The smile she'd given him that one and only time she'd convinced him to dance had been one of the brightest he'd ever seen. If he were the romantic type, he'd say that he woke up every day just to see her smile.

But I'm not, and that's just way too cheesy. He thought.

He glanced around him and found that Arya had wondered further down the display cases full of shoes. He followed her.

"Are you going to be much longer?" he asked gruffly.

"Won't be long," Arya said to him and turned to the sales assistant. "I'll take these in a size 36, please."

Sandor glanced at the shoes Arya held out to the assistant and frowned. They were black leather, with spikes and zips and looked more like a form of torture than a shoe.

"You actually wear that on your feet?" he asked dubiously.

"What would you know about fashion, Hound?" she returned.

"About as little as you," he shot back, "judging by that thing you're about to buy!"

Arya gave him a glare that promised all sorts of retribution for that dig, and he decided to walk away while she seethed.

That was how he ended up looking at the Marc Jacobs display, and was confronted by an array of what appeared to be different colored mice, pretending to be shoes.

What in the world?

Curious, he picked one up. It was navy blue, with little black studs for eyes, a patch of leather for a nose, and teensy flaps of leather for ears…and whiskers.

"Wow!" Arya exclaimed as she sidled up next to him. "Sansa will love those!"


"Oh, my God, yes!" Arya confirmed. "You've even picked the right color. See? It's not too crazy, or glittery."

Indeed, the design came in various shades of too-bright-and-loud, or too-out-there. The navy blue was actually quite…tasteful.

Sandor glanced at the shoe in his hand again. He didn't see how shoes designed to look like a mouse was high-fashion, but in terms of whimsy and all things cute, it ticked all the right boxes.

He imagined the look on Sansa's face.

First, she would see the box and probably recognize the name. She'd raise an eyebrow questioningly before lifting the lid, and then she would lift the shoes out of the tissue amid peals of genuine laughter. Her blue eyes would fix on his grey ones, and she would understand.

It wouldn't be about the shoe, or the label, or how expensive it was. She would smile out of delighted amusement. She would probably put them on and dance around, still smiling…and he would be smiling with her.

Sandor snapped himself out of his daydream and managed a glare for Arya, who had witnessed the stupid grin on his face and was giving him a knowing grin of her own.

"Sansa's a size 37." Arya told him, helpfully.

"I know that!" he snapped, and went to find an assistant to help him with his purchase.

On Christmas day, Sansa's reaction had been better than he'd imagined.

After Sansa had put on the mouse-shaped-shoes and danced around the room laughing, she'd thrown her arms around Sandor's neck, grinning widely.

"I love them! Thank you!" She planted a kiss on his lips before she gave him a smile that only he could see. "And, I love you."

The shoes pictured are mine, a Christmas gift from my husband who bought them because he thought they would make me smile…and he was right!