In my headcanon I imagine angst filled conversation in the Lord's chamber where Sansa shakes and tells Jon she's his family and his friend. "Aren't I?" She kind of trembles, and Jon replies "No, I'm not your friend." And Sansa shudders and tears start forming, but before she could let anything out in a shaky breath, Jon takes heated wide steps to her without saying a word, grabs the back of her head and kisses her like his life (2nd life? lol) depended on it. Someone make it happen 😭
Can I just…
There is dried blood caked in his hair and mud and sweat coating his leather and furs. He is in dire need of a bath to wash the grime of battle from his skin and soothe his aching muscles, but he stands here anyway, watching her as she takes him in, rosy pink lips parted like a prayer.
“You’re home,” she whispers, timid and afraid, like mayhaps she is dreaming up his presence. It should not excite him so to imagine her dreaming of him, but he smiles and nods. “I didn’t think you would… I heard from… Bran says he saw you surrounded by the Others.”
“Aye,” Jon admits. He takes a tentative step forward. “I thought I’d die out there.”
Sansa shivers, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. “I dreamt of a wolf howling, white and as big as a mountain with eyes like liquid fire. I thought it was Ghost but when the moon caught it just right, its eyes turned lilac.”
Her implication is clear and Jon freezes, suddenly overcome with the desire to run and hide from her, from this truth he refuses to bear. It is Sansa now that walks towards him. He doesn’t look at her; he can’t quite bring himself to.
“It doesn’t matter to me,” she says softly. “You will always be my family. My friend.”
Jon’s eyes snap back to hers, studying her, watching her. He feels spiteful and he gives a soft snort. “Am I? Your family, that is. Is that who I am?” He exhales slowly. “No, Sansa, I’m not your friend.”
To watch her eyes fill with tears nearly breaks him right then and there, but Jon just closes the gap between them, cradling her face in his palms, as his lips immediately capture hers. He feels her gasp into his mouth, stilling for a second, before her fingers slide through his hair, tugging gently and causing every muscle in his body to constrict with want. Jon backs her up against the wall as he drops his hands down to her hips, desperate to feel her yet terrified to take this any further.
“I can’t just be your friend,” he murmurs once he pulls back. “I love you, Sansa. I’ve fought this for so long but I can’t anymore. I love you. I want to start a family with you. I want to grow old with you here in our home.”
Tears streak down her cheeks. She loosens her grip on his hair and traces the line of his jaw with one finger until she reaches his bottom lip. “Are you asking me to marry you, Jon Snow?”
“Aye,” he nods, smiling as he kisses her again, this time soft and quick.
“Do you not worry over what the other houses may think?” she asks, but there is now a wicked grin on her face that makes Jon’s heart swell.
“They have already disavowed me,” Jon says. “They do not care what I do anymore. And I doubt any of them are dumb enough to go against their beloved queen.”
Sansa rolls her eyes and tugs him back for another kiss. “You’ll be my king then.”