Chirp on about Good Bones - sunkelles (2024)

Any decent realtor,

walking you through a real sh*thole, chirps on

about good bones: This place could be beautiful,

right? You could make this place beautiful.

"Good Bones" by Maggie Smith

Margaery Tyrell has seen a lot of houses in her life. She bed-hopped from woman to woman in college, traveled the world for a few years after graduation, and then, of course, she became a realtor at her family’s firm. She can safely say that she’s an expert in houses.

As an expert in houses, Margaery knows this is the tackiest one that she’s ever been in.

Sure, she’s been in cheaper houses, in more rundown houses, even in uglier houses, but never something quite this gaudy. The house opens with a tiny entryway with pastel pink, tile floors and walls painted magenta. It opens into a path to both the living room and the kitchen.

In the kitchen, the cabinets and floor are all made of metal, like one of those Lustron houses from the nuclear era. The large living room has a triangular ceiling that goes up twenty five feet in the middle. Each of the room’s four walls is made of a different material. The wall that this room shares with the kitchen is made of the same shining metal as the kitchen is. The wall facing the backyard is made of glass that she had to spend hours washing to get the right shine on. It gives a beautiful view of the deck in the back and the lake that the house sits on, but she can’t imagine the amount of washing that it would require to keep it clean and pretty. Any family with children couldn’t bother, which crosses off a whole swath of potential buyers.

The wall opposite the kitchen is made of wood paneling, with a red brick fireplace sitting slightly off center. The walls that signal the start of the bedrooms are made of typical drywall, but painted bright yellow like an emoji smiley face.The flooring, of course, is hardwood of the same variety as the wood paneling, because whoever made this house thinks that the walls and the floors bleeding together is the chicest gimmick ever.

There’s three bedrooms down the hallway with bright yellow paint that extends through each of them. One of the doors is still a deep brown. The other two are painted creatively for children’s bedrooms. One has flames painted all of it, and the other has a pale green background coat and standard yellow and white daisies dotting the surface.

The fire bedroom has Lannisport Lions red carpet and walls painted the same fire pattern as the door. The flower bedroom has pastel pink walls with little wallpaper fairies and pastel green carpet that looks like grass. They both have thin little closets with folding, white doors.

Nestled in between these rooms is a children’s bathroom, with bright yellow cabinets under a black sink, with a mirror covering the rest of the wall. The carpet (carpet! In a bathroom!) is still fire red. The walls have a base coat of white, but there’s a mural of monkeys in the jungle spanning all three of them. One of the monkeys is even swinging from a branch behind the toilet to another end wall.

The windows are, unfortunately, facing East. That means that when the sun comes up in the morning every drop of sunlight will illuminate the room and wake whatever unfortunate soul is trying to sleep in that bedroom.

The master bedroom at the end of the hallway isn’t any better. The carpet is navy blue, the walls are baby blue, and there is at least one window on each of the three walls: a giant one on the East side, a little one above the bed facing South, and then two small window alcoves on the West side. There are seven window alcoves along the West wall each with a basic icon representing one of the Seven to meld the enclosure into a shrine.

Thank those very same Seven that each window that an icon was the extent of this. They could have been painted with an elaborate mural of one of the faces, and she's not sure how she would sell a creepy little alcove painted to look like the Stranger to the average homebuyer.

Next is the master bedroom, which has a single navy bathtub, navy toilet, and navy sink. On each side of the bed, a hotel style lamp spurts out of the wall. The tile which covers the floor, the ceiling, and the walls is all seafoam green. The mirror above the sink is just a normal colored mirror, but it blends into the seafoam green tile until you’re close enough to stare yourself in the face.

Margaery sighs, and leans against the metal cabinets of the kitchen. She can put up all the doilies that she wants over the metal island. She can put out homemade cookies on a golden platter, serve coffee with all the furnishings and use her most beautiful mugs. She can even put out a fancy water dispenser with lemon in it and can chatter her head off about how beautiful this house is, about its quirks and its good bones… but nothing is going to make it any less of an eyesore.

Margaery grabs her own favorite mug and pours coffee in it. She doesn’t bother to add any sugar.Really, she just needs a straight up shot of espresso to make it through this first open house. She takes a swig of coffee, then another, and another. Then she hears the knock at the door.

She sighs, and takes another drink for good measure and then sets her mug by the sink. She rushes across the room to open the door, and then greets the middle aged, white, heterosexual couple on the porch with her brightest smile.

“I’m Margaery Tyrell,” she says, “thank you for coming to my open house.” She leads them into the entryway and then around the kitchen side of the choose your own adventure split. She gets them to take a cookie as she tells them about the period that the home was built in and why that makes it the most solid investment that they could ever make. (You can tell from the popcorn ceilings that it was built in the seventies, but everyone knows that homes from the seventies are ripe for renovation, you know!)

“Would you like me to show you around?” she asks as they finish their cookies.

“Oh no,” Amelia says, “I think we’ll just wander together.”

Margaery nods. “If you have any questions, just let me know.” The woman sends her an indulgent smile, and she and her husband walk back through the entryway and into the living room. Margaery knows that she’s not going to sell these people on this house. They came for an open house, but as soon as they saw the kitchen was completely made of metal they decided that they’d stay for a circus instead. Phenomenal.

After half an hour of dead silence, a few more people pass through. None of them are promising, though.

A straight, Sandy Dornish couple right out of college who she knows wouldn’t be able to scrape together rent, let alone enough to buy a house.

A single woman, mid thirties.A man, mid thirties, with children. They’re flirting, and Margaery can tell that they’re mocking the house together. Maybe they'll go on a date later. This topic will carry them all the way through to marriage.A gaggle of her grandmother’s elderly “friends” giggling together in their thinly veiled insults.

“Has Olenna seen this house yet?” her grandmother’s frenemy asks snidely. Your grandmother would hate this, her voice says, it’s a disgrace.

Margaery smiles tightly. “She hasn’t. My grandmother’s not in the market for a new home.”

Anita snorts. “Not even the Smith could make this a home.”

“I disagree,” Margaery says politely, “I think that it’s a solid house. If someone would put some love into it, they could make it into something special.”

“Oh come on, Margaery,” Anita needles, “this isn’t a good house.”

“No,” Margaery concedes, “it isn’t.”

Anita rolls her eyes. “Then why are you willing to sell it?”

“I’m not in the business of selling houses,” Margaery says, “I sell future homes .” If someone presents a house to her, she’ll figure out how to promote it and ensure the buyer ends up happy with the product. This is a matter of honor and pride.

One of her grandmother’s other friends, a woman named Rosie, looks at her pityingly. “Oh, bless your heart, Miss Margaery. Bless your little heart.”Margaery goes home after a day of humiliation and derision to scream into her pillow.

Sansa finds out about the open house completely by accident. She's just gotten her coffee at the shop nearest Jeyne's apartment (theirs now) when she runs into someone she hasn't seen in years. She shouldn't be surprised, though, now that she's living in Highgarden.

“By the Seven,” a tenor voice exclaims, “if it isn’t Sansa Stark .” Sansa looks abruptly up from her coffee at the sound of her name and meets a familiar pair of eyes.

“Loras Tyrell?”

Loras smiles back, his eyes crinkling just the slightest bit. “The one and only." Sansa gestures across the table to get him to sit down, and Loras sets his own drink down in front of her.

"What brings you to Highgarden?" Loras asks, "I thought your roots were planted in King’s Landing.”

Sansa smiles tightly. “I cut those roots off.”

Loras’s eyes widen, “You don’t mean-”

Sansa’s smile becomes a bit more genuine. “I do . I divorced Joffrey. Then I moved back home for a while.” She needed a bit of time to get her bearings back after spending so long tethered to a man like that.

“And now?” Loras asks.

Sansa shrugs. “I’m living with a friend, teaching some painting classes.”

Loras nods. “Are you looking for a place of your own?” There’s an undercurrent in this conversation that Sansa can’t quite place. Loras is looking for a certain piece of information, but she’s not sure what.

“Not really,” Sansa tells him, “I’m just getting settled somewhere new.”

“Ah,” Loras says, “well, just in case you were… I wanted to tell you something.”Sansa snorts. There it is. Loras is selling houses with his father’s business.

“I’m not ready to buy a house, Loras,” she assures him, “but I’ll keep you in mind when I am.”

Then it’s Loras’s turn to snort. “I’m not a realtor, Sansa.”

She frowns. “Then why-

“My sister has an open house on Sunday,” he tells her, “absolutely wretched little place. She tried to pawn it off on Renly and I, actually. As though I want my house to look as campy as my drag wardrobe.”They chat back and forth about his upcoming performances, the local queer scene, and how happy Sansa is to finally be out. They exchange numbers and promises to spend some time together. When Sansa’s ready to make her way back to the apartment, she tries to tell Loras goodbye.

“Before we go,” he adds, “please go to my sister’s house?”

Sansa just stares. “I’m not buying a house, Loras.”

He stares back at her like she’s the slowest person in the world. “To see her , Sansa. I think she’d like to reconnect.” Sansa feels a blush creep onto her cheeks.

“Really?” Sansa asks. She thought that Margaery had to have found a real partner since they broke up back in college. There had to have been someone she was willing to commit to… Someone without Sansa’s baggage. “Is she, uh. Is she-”

“Yes,” Loras tells her, rolling his eyes, “she’s single.” Sansa smiles the whole way home.

The next morning, Margaery cancels the open house she scheduled for next week. She needs to find a different angle for this property. Opening it up for more gawking from the general public won’t help her with something like this .

Maybe there are some online communities dedicated to “unique” houses that she can find and contact. That might help her find a buyer who won’t take one look at it and run straight the other way. She goes into the shared Tyrell family and business calendar and deletes the event.

No less than twenty minutes later, she gets a call from Loras. Since he's her favorite brother, Margaery answers immediately. Now she wishes that she hadn't because he opens with an accusation.

“You canceled your open house?!?!"

“Yes, Loras,” Margaery tells him, “I canceled. When something isn’t working, you try something else. With a house like this… I have to find a new strategy.”

“Marg,” he tells her, “I already told someone about it. Time, place, everything. They were looking forward to it.”

Margaery sighs. “Then tell them to call me and we’ll set up a showing.”

Loras sighs. “It’s not about the house , Margaery. She wants to see you.”

“Oh,” Margaery says, “this isn’t about professionalism. This is you trying to set me up!”

“Yes!” Loras says, “it is!”

“You know that I’m taking a break from dating,” Margaery chides, “it never ends well.”

“Yes, none of them ever end well,” Loras tells her, “because you assume they’re going to end .” Margaery hangs up the phone.

Later in the day, Margaery’s phone rings. She is a professional, so she answers, even though she’s very tired and it’s a Saturday morning and she very much does not want to be working.

“Hello,” she says, “you’ve reached Margaery Tyrell.”

“Has that house sold?” the man asks. Margaery knows which house he’s referring to. There’s only one house that their business is selling that he could possibly be referring to. She’s too tactful to say that, though.

“Which house are you interested in?” she asks politely. Then he tells her the address, and they set up a time for him to check the house out by himself to decide if he wants to look at it with his girlfriend.

They schedule the same time as Margaery thought the open house was going to be tomorrow. It’s easy enough to slot back into her calendar, but she makes sure to label it PRIVATE SHOWING to keep Loras from getting ideas.

Loras gets ideas. When he sees that his sister scheduled a private showing during open house he invited Sansa to... he decides that he doesn't have to speak to Sansa Stark to cancel at all. With as skittish as Sansa can be, he really didn’t want to have to reschedule and talk her into to doing this all over again.

(He can’t believe he talked her into it the first time.)

The day of the open house comes, and Sansa manages to talk herself into getting out of her car. She even talks herself into walking up to the house. Then she notices something strange. A blond man about her mother’s age is standing on the porch, leaning against the wall by the doorknob. He keeps glancing between his phone and the doorbell. Sansa keeps making her way toward the door as the man just keeps... standing outside, leaning on the wall. This is a strange thing to do, in Sansa’s opinion. They’re a year of two into a fall that’s still warm, and he’s probably starting to sweat waiting on the porch instead of inside the house.

He finally breaks his cycle of looking between his phone and the door to look up at her in… surprise?

“Hello?” the man asks, sounding confused that another person would dare to come to Margaery Tyrell's public showing.

“I’m here for the open house,” Sansa tells him. Margaery’s open house. This is the right time and place, right? Her maps didn’t glitch out on her? Loras wasn’t playing a cruel prank?

“Huh,” the man says, “that’s… odd. The realtor told me this was a private showing.”

Sansa feels her face turn red as a southron rose. “I’m so sorry!” she declares, “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just- I can work out a different time. It’s no big deal.” It is a big deal, but it’s just embarrassment for her. She’ll go back home and put a blanket over her head and forget she was ever so stupid as to think she could end up back with Margaery Tyrell.

The man laughs as he shakes his head. “You’re already here! I’m sure I can share a showing with one person.”

Sansa knows this could be deeply uncomfortable. “Are you sure?”

He laughs. “One hundred percent, kid. I’m no knight, but I’m not that much of an asshole.” He gestures towards the door and makes it very clear he won’t be taking no for an answer.

Sansa nods tightly. “Thank you.” Wait, she missed a step, didn’t she?

“I’m Sansa,” she adds quickly. That’s the polite thing to do, right? Introduce yourself?

“I’m Jaime,” he tells her. Then, he starts his way towards the door, grabs for the knob, and looks ready to stand there holding it open for Sansa like a proper white cloak. Instead, the door opens without his help, revealing the smiling face of Margaery Tyrell. Her brown hair is smooth and curled, cascading down her shoulders in stunning, intentional ringlets. Her makeup is impeccably professionally done, and she’s dressed in an ensemble that looks straight off of a Spring Looks For The Professional Woman catalog.

“Jaime,” she says warmly, “how nice to meet you in person!”

“And you brought your-” Margaery freezes mid sentence as her eyes settle on her ex-girlfriend. Sansa forces an awkward wave.

Margaery, to her credit, thaws quickly enough to ask if Sansa is his, “Girlfriend?”

Jaime chuckles. “Seven, no.”

“Then what are-” Margaery cuts herself off, “I’m so sorry, I’m just a bit flustered. Are you two… Friends?”

Jaime laughs. “Oh yeah, fast friends.”Margaery looks frustrated as she grasps for a polite response.

“I came for the open house,” Sansa tells her, “your brother said it might be a good time to come see you, but that was-” Jaime looks intrigued and Margaery’s face settles into something Sansa can’t read at all.

“That was… presumptuous,” Sansa finishes, suddenly feeling like Florian the Fool, “I should just-” Jaime sends her a confused look, and Margaery looks ready to scream.

“I should leave,” Sansa finishes. Margaery doesn’t say anything, but looks even more unsettled than she was a moment ago.

Jaime lets out an awkward laugh. “You really shouldn’t. If anyone should leave, it’s me. Clearly the two of you have something to work out.”

Sansa’s eyes dart to Margaery’s. “That’s not necessary,” Margaery assures him, “this was the only time that you had available for weeks, and you were very excited about this property. I would hate to have someone else swoop in and steal it from you.”

Jaime’s eyes dart to the pure, metallic sheen of the kitchen. “Ah yes," he says, "someone stealing it. A very real danger that I face.”

Margaery makes her way through the entryway and then turns around awkwardly in between them. “Since you’re both here, I’ll give you a proper tour!” Then, she shifts into her most pleasantly robotic sales pitch that Sansa has ever seen .

Sansa walks beside the stranger that’s her mother’s age and listens to him make pleasant comments about this garish hodgepodge of a house.

When they come to the alcoves dedicated to the different faces of the Seven, he looks absolutely delighted. “Oh, my girlfriend is going to love this.”

Margaery hesitates for a moment before asking, “...Really? Is she religious?” Ah, there’s the Margaery that she loves and admires, always searching for an angle.

Jaime snorts. “No, she just likes weird stuff.”

Sansa laughs, and then Jaime looks embarrassed as he assures her, “I like that! The weird is good!"

Margaery starts walking a little further in front of them again, clearing trying to shift “she just likes weird stuff” into the way that she presents the house, but Jaime’s staring at Sansa with concern, as though she's a confusing but benign part of his day that's suddenly become a threat.

“So,” he says, sounding more guarded than he has all day, “what do you think of the house?”

Sansa glances over at him cautiously. “I think it’s… fine?”

“Fine?”

“Yes,” Sansa says, “fine?” She’s not sure what information he’s fishing for.

“Do you want to buy it?” he asks, and he sounds… a little desperate. He laughs a little awkward as he adds, “because now that I’ve seen it, I might have to fight you for it.” He winks at the end, but it seems a little… forced. He seems legitimately worried about this.

“Seven, no,” Sansa assures him before switching to a whisper, “I’m here to flirt with the realtor.” She hadn't... totally meant to say that out loud, but the combination of a disarming new acquaintance and her new, freeing joy at being out of the closet.... she can't really help it. She wants to shout it from the rooftops this time instead of hiding behind a veneer of friendship and casual... That is, if Margaery will have her.

“Ah,” Jaime says, eyes sparkling with mischief, “ that explains the tension. She an ex?” Sansa nods. Then he starts walking much faster, catching up and then overtaking Margaery herself.

“Hey, Margaery,” he says, “can you give me a bit to look around?”

“Of course,” Margaery says, “whatever part you’d like to see again, just let me know.”

“Oh no,” he insists, “I need to see it by myself! No realtor-speak clouding my thoughts, you know?”

She smiles tightly. “If you’re sure-”

“I am!” he declares. Then, he nearly bolts down the hallway. This leaves Sansa and Margaery alone in the room.Sansa bites her lip, waiting to see if Margaery will shatter the awkward silence. Thankfully, she does.

“What are you doing in town?” Margaery asks cautiously.

Sansa smiles. “I just moved here, actually.” Margaery looks taken aback for a moment. She’s trying to think of a tactful way to ask what happened to cause that, of course.

“Interesting,” Margaery says, “is Joffrey… starting another branch of Baratheon Industries, then?”

“Oh no,” Sansa assures her, “Joffrey’s still in King’s Landing. You don’t have to worry about him upsetting the market here.”

“Joffrey is in King’s Landing,” Margaery says, “and you’re… not?” Sansa could dance around the subject the way that she does with acquaintances. She could prolong this awkward interaction until Margaery finally gets to the heart of it, but honestly? She doesn’t want to.

“I divorced him,” Sansa says evenly.

“Oh,” Margaery says, her lips quirking into a faint smile, “my condolences.”

Sansa smiles. “No need to be polite, Marg. You can say congratulations.” Margaery laughs, that open, unguarded laugh that only came out when it was just the two of them, from their time spent as “besties” to “casual girlfriends” and when they tried to be “besties” but only landed at “exes”.

“Congratulations, Sansa,” Margaery tells her, and she smiles widely. Sansa inches a bit closer, awkward and hesitant but wanting .

“Are you still…” There’s a million ways to finish that sentence: closeted, single, a lesbian, into me .

Sansa doesn’t make her finish it. “Would you like to get coffee tomorrow morning? And maybe we could catch that new movie this weekend? About Queen Rhaena and Elissa Farman?” She sends the names out into the world like a queer homing beacon: I’m ready to be out this time! I know the lingo, the history! I’m all in!

Margaery doesn’t stop grinning as she takes out her phone to hand it to Sansa. “That sounds wonderful. But I do think we’ll need to exchange numbers to make so many plans?” Sansa blushes as she puts her number in as a heart emoji Sansa a wolf emoji.

She hands her phone back to Margaery, who texts back with a rainbow flag.

The footsteps start again as Jaime comes back into the room, talking happily about how much his girlfriend will love this house. Sure, it’s weird, but that’s what makes them like it. Maybe that’s what’s going to make things work this time: embracing that sometimes weird is the best thing for everyone.

Sansa’s alright with being queer, now. She understands that a relationship shouldn’t just create pictures for instagram where she has to use concealer on her bruises. She could be a girlfriend worth having, if Margaery will have her.

“Am I good to come in?” Jaime asks, “I didn’t see a sock-” Sansa snorts, and Margaery turns bright red. This had started as a professional meeting, after all.

“Yes, you’re good to come in,” Sansa assures him.

“Great!” Jaime says, bursting in through one of the doors, “I would love to see the property again with my girlfriend. Is that still an option?”

“Of course,” Margaery assures him, “we’ll just have to work out a time.”

Jaime smiles then. “When we have the showing, you should bring Sansa again.”

Sansa frowns. “What? Why?

“It’ll be a double date,” Jaime says, winking.

“JAIME!” Sansa says, feeling her face turn red.

“Oh come on,” Jaime tells her, “You don’t get to be embarrassed. You told me you were here to flirt with the realtor completely unpromoted.” That’s a fair point, actually.

“Okay, fine,” Sansa says, “if Margaery will have me.”

Margaery grins. “Sansa Stark, I will always have you.” Sansa feels her heart fly straight out of her chest.This… this could all be very good. A new start with her once and future girlfriend, her best friend, and a possibility of some new friends as well. What good bones to build a new life around!