if i was your boyfriend, i'd never let you go...whoops (CLOSED)

[aroyaldouche]

Who: Joffrey Baratheon & Sansa Stark
Where: Winterfell (Casa Stark)
When: NOW!
What: "Hanging".
Warnings: Over the bra chest groping at the worse? Joffrey at best.

[ Truth be told, he had forgotten until twelve. ]

[ Joffrey Baratheon had woken early, sworn at his brother for being in his room and waking him, rolled over and gone back to sleep until around ten, at which time he had finally ventured into the bathroom to shower. From there he had dressed in lazy clothes - there was no need for the uppity, composed fashion to be worn outside of school uniforms, and it wasn't as if he were going anywhere but around the house today - and made his way downstairs, to the kitchen in order to raid the fridge. ]

[ Tommen had been in the living room, too, idly flicking through television programs, but at another curse the other blond boy had slid off the couch and joined Myrcella at the computer table to put in headphones and watch some idiotic cartoons on Netflix. Joffrey had commandeered the television successfully and played a solid hour and a half of videogames with toast hanging from his mouth and crumbs littering the sofa cushions before Myrcella approached him and told him his phone had been buzzing. And, oh, who else could that be. Joff had groaned, then groaned again even louder when he realized that, yes, today he was supposed to do more than just text her mindlessly every couple of minutes. ]

[ Summoning his resolve, the boy had sent her a quick text - i'll be late - before going to change his clothes. They'd set up the arrangement for him to arrive at noon, but dressing was a fickle thing, and by the time the family car pulled up outside of the Stark residence, it was closer to 1. But that didn't bother him - not too much; Sansa was, by definition, a sweet girl, and was unlikely to comment on his tardiness - hey, at least he had sent her a text. ]

[ So, it's with a hand in his pocket, toying with his phone and wondering how long he has to stay, and the other raised to knock that his presence (welcome or otherwise) is announced at the House Stark. ]

Comments

[fullofsongs]

[Joffrey may have been up since ten, but Sansa was up since 8 AM getting ready. She'd woken up early, taken a nice shower and painted her toes and nails. Then, she'd blow-dried her hair, and styled it, half of it up with a few curls hanging down. After dressing in a nice sundress she'd set about to doing her makeup-- nice and natural-- before going downstairs for breakfast at around eleven. That was when she'd started texting him, asking if he was still on for the day, if he was going to eat lunch, what-have-you. But no response. Sighing irritably, she was content to pace the kitchen until she finally got a text from him informing her that he'd be late.]

[No one was surprised.]

[But, Sansa put on a happy face. It was Saturday, these things happened. Instead, she used the hour to busy herself in the kitchen again, making a batch of her famous lemon cakes, complete with a batch of butter creme frosting. She was just putting the finishing touches when she heard the knock at the door. Uttering a small scream, she took a moment to compose herself.] Okay, breathe, Sansa. Breathe. You can do this. Just be cool. [Smoothing down the front of her dress and checking her lip-gloss in the mirror, Sansa made her way to the front door, Lady in tow. Taking a deep breath, she opens the door, smiling brightly.] Joffrey! Hi! I'm so glad you could make it. Lady, heel. [The dog had moved to start sniffing him already.] Leave Joffrey alone, okay, girl?

[Grabbing on to her collar, Sansa pushed the dog back inside slightly, before straightening up and smiling.] Sorry about her. She's a good girl, she just likes meeting new people. How are you? I just made lemon cakes, if you want any! [Oh god he was so pretty.]

[aroyaldouche]

[ Pretty, but pretty is not handsome. God, Sansa, how unintelligent of you to deem such girly adjectives worthy of being used to describe him! Good thing he's not a kind reader, or else he'll make a face and likely roll his eyes at her. ]

[ - actually, he's making a face regardless, because there is a beast sniffing at his pants and threatening to get hair on his fine clothes just by being in his presence. Joffrey takes half a step back, almost steps off the front stoop and almost trips down the little set of stairs to the pavement of the driveway. Perhaps that would be so bad, though, because he'd get to leave, retain the points he gained by coming at all, and it'd be entirely her and her dogs fault, which meant he would get fresh up on the sympathy points. But he doesn't fall, merely grimaces, and finally looks at her face when the dog's been forced back inside and caged behind Sansa's legs. ]

[ She's pretty, and he likes her hair like that, but wouldn't admit such a thing out loud, because wasn't it a girls job to be pretty all the time? He would have been more likely to mention something if she hadn't been made up, dressed up, and expecting him. That just wouldn't have been acceptable. This was. ]

I'm fine. [ He concedes, and when she allows him to, he moves to step past her and cross the threshold. ] I guess I could take a cake. If they're any good. [ Wow, was that skeptical? Noooooo, of course not. Why would you think he'd do such a thing? ]

[fullofsongs]

[He wasn't complementing her on how pretty she was. That was... Really upsetting. She'd been up for hours getting ready, and not a simple, 'Oh, I like your necklace.' It was upsetting. But then again, he was a boy, and boys often didn't notice those things. So he was excused.]

[Shooing Lady back into the house, she straightens up and allows him to enter.] You look really nice today, Joffrey. [She automatically leads the way towards the kitchen, smiling before her words catch up with her.] I mean, you always do, but, you look especially nice today. [Maybe he'd gone and gotten all dressed up for her! Oh, of course he had. It negated her previous thoughts, but she was moving on. To lemon cakes!]

You'll love them. I just put the last of the frosting on, just you wait. I made them from scratch, too. [Sansa was, as always, proud of her accomplishments. Especially her lemon cakes.]

[aroyaldouche]

[ Boys are bad news, Sansa. You can bet he's checking out some of her other fine assets when she turns to walk toward the kitchen, but that is a sneaky assessment; glances he probably wouldn't even chance if her brothers were around, and glances cut short as he turns his head to inspect the insides of Casa Stark. Family photos, Mrs. Stark's ideas of decorative wall paper, the tastefully patterned carpets... ]

[ Gross. ]

[ He nods at her praise, though; nonchalant and casual, but a nod all the same. Gosh, Sansa; way to state the obvious. Like he doesn't already know he looks good. But... sigh, he'll respond, like a good human being. ]

Thanks. [ And while he didn't spare much thought to her appearance, nor offer any sort of compliment to that, when the cakes are produced, he goes far enough to shrug his shoulders and gesture toward them. ] They look nice. Almost professional.

[fullofsongs]

[He's not complementing her. Her first thought is naturally that he hates her and thinks she's ugly and only using her for her cooking. Then again, she reminds herself, he's a boy. Boys don't put much thought into how they dress let alone how she probably dresses. The nuiances of her cleverly-crafted outfit are probably comopletely lost on him.]

[But she wasn't going to not pay attention to how she dressed just because Joffrey was over. She liked looking nice. In case, maybe, he did notice.]

You're welcome. [She beams brightly and hands him a cake on a small plate.] You really think so? Thank you! I thought about it, if acting doesn't work out. Or, y'know, politics. [She shrugs.] At the very least, it's always nice to be able to bake. It's fun. And tasty. Do-- do you want something to drink? Some milk, maybe?

[aroyaldouche]

[ Yup, he hates her and she's so ugly - but, come on sweetie, what man uses a woman for her cooking? Not even his dad does that, and he loves eating. There was a pun to be made about what he enjoyed eating, but that is something Joffrey doesn't like to dwell on. Ew. No. We don't imagine our parents sex lives, just assume the president is happy with his wife and take the fact that he's never walked in on them as a good thing. ]

[ Joffrey raises the cake to his mouth and takes a bite, which consists of almost the entire cake. Good breeding or no, he still wipes his hand on the back of his hand, and when she offers something to drink, he takes his time chewing and allowing his eyes to wander the kitchen before he answers. ]

Do your parents have a liquor cabinet?

[fullofsongs]

[Her mind tends to go to the worst possible thing at all times, at least when Joffrey is concerned, but what can you do? She's a teenager.]

[She watches him as she tries to conceal her excitement when he takes a rather large bite and seems to enjoy. She smiles and then-- liquor cabinet?]

What? I mean... Yes, but we shouldn't go in there, Joffrey, we're not twenty-one. [And it's 1 in the afternoon or round-abouts.]

[aroyaldouche]

Yeah -

[ Chew, chew, swallow - look at lemoncake with mild distaste because damn that's sweet, it's probably a girls food - and put it down on the plate. ]

That's kind of the point.

[fullofsongs]

[He doesn't like the lemoncake. This is bad. QUICK! DO SOMETHING. SOMETHING TO SALVAGE THIS WHOLE THING. Which means... liquor cabinet. Sansa glances around, just to make sure Bran or someone isn't lurking in the shadows, ready to ruin everything.]

Maybe we could... take a little... If you really wanted... [She doesn't want to. But he does. And she wants to make him happy. So...]

[aroyaldouche]

[ You've failed, Sansa - now let's drink. ]

[ He nods as she concedes and thinks for a brief moment. ] Does your father have whiskey? We'd only need a little of that. Whiskey or burbon. Though I bet you'd only like the fruity vodka drinks.

[fullofsongs]

[Joffrey Baratheon: Worst. Influence. Ever.]

[She thinks for a moment.] I think he does. Dad has most of everything, I think. I don't really go into the liquor cabinet ever. [They have a lot of everything for when Robert comes over.] I, uh... Only have ever had champagne. [And then she threw up all over someone's shoes.]

[She glances around again.] It's in the dining room. [She begins the walk, making sure no one is around. So far, no one is around.]

[aroyaldouche]

[ Best. Boyfriend. Ever. (There, I fixed it for you!) ]

Only champagne? [ His eyebrows arch up in an expression of seeming disbelief and disgust at her lack of experience with anything stronger than that. The raise of his upper lip is condescending in nature: God, what are you? A baby? ]

Maybe you should try vodka.

[ Now. Go put on your fucking big girl panties and raid your dad's liquor cabinet. He'll just be here waiting and picking at his tongue as if he thinks he just swallowed a hair in one of those lemon cakes. Gross. ]

[fullofsongs]

[Soon-to-be boyfriend. Unless he's changed his mind about the dating thing.]

Vodka? [She's uneasy, looking back at him as they enter the dining room and approach the cabinet.] Yeah. The champagne was on election night. I, uh... Got sick. [She blushes before kneeling at the cabinet and opening it.]

What do you want?

[aroyaldouche]

[ Oh right. Yeah. Soon-to-be. High schoolers can't be seen dating middle schoolers after all, and he must keep up appearances by firmly maintaining this playa facade he has going on. Also who wants to be seen trying exceptionally hard to get into the pants of his father's best friend's daughter. That's kind of ass-lickey. ]

Burbon.

[ Eh... no, he hates burbon. It makes him feel sick, but maybe he's just sip at it and watch her drink as well. After all, this wasn't about getting drunk; it was about her doing what he wanted. ]

[fullofsongs]

Burbon. [She repeats, before glancing over her shoulder again and starting to nervously look through the bottles. It doesn't take more than five seconds for two to clank together in what she's sure is a sound that has alerted the whole household to her nefarious deeds. She freezes for a few moments, before she spies it. Burbon. Reaching in, she pulls out the bottle.] Here. Got it. [She hands it to him.] Can we, uh-- I mean, where are we going to drink this?

[aroyaldouche]

[ Wow she's like a little puppy, double checking everything before actually doing it. How inept. He rolls his eyes - really, the clink wasn't that loud - and scoffs gently before shrugging. ]

Your room. Outback. Don't you have a rec room downstairs?

[fullofsongs]

We do, but Bran and Rickon's Legos are all over the place. And I don't think Arya cleaned up after Nymeria. But we could go to my room. If you wanted. Or we could go outside. Your call, Joffrey. Doesn't matter to me. [She smiles at him hopefully.]