Happy, Happy Birthday, FDM! I hope you had a fantabulous day!

Purple Ain't Just for Girls

Inspiration words: bendy straw and argyle

EPOV

Everyday at lunch I watched her. I always made sure that I had an unobstructed view of her. She was a goddess. Her long, silky blond hair fell in soft waves, framing her face. Clear blue eyes full of humour would dart from person to person as she animatedly told a story. I would stare at her full lips as they formed words, and fantasize about what it would be like to kiss them. Inevitably, I would find myself getting hard as her perfect, cherry stained lips wrapped around the bendy straw while she sucked the grape soda from the can in front of her. God, how I wanted to be that bendy straw.

I groaned inwardly as she pulled more soda through the straw, her lips pursed, and her cheeks hollowing. Fuck. Images of her cherry lips on my cock filled my head. I was so distracted that I didn't hear my best friend come up behind me. When she nudged me in greeting, I spilled the cup of coffee I was raising to my lips down my sweater.

"Fuck, Pam! What the fuck did you do that for?" I said angrily to her, dabbing at the large coffee stain on my favourite sweater.

"What the fuck is your problem, Northman? I said hi, but you were too busy eye-fucking Princess Sookie to notice. Seriously, Eric, when are you gonna realize that she doesn't even know you exist?" she retaliated.

I glared at her. "You're a bitch, you know that, Pam?"

"Yeah, yeah…your constant flattery does my ego good. Let me see your sweater," she said, her expression softening as she held out her hand.

I looked at her askance. There was no way I was taking my sweater off in the middle of the café. I shook my head, no. Underneath my sweater I had on a purple tank top – it was a manly dark purple, but purple nonetheless. It had taken me years to cultivate my security blanket of anonymity and I wasn't about to give it up with only six months left of school. Taking that sweater off would open me up to the ridicule and scorn of my classmates, and all because I was wearing purple. Yeah, my high school was small and the majority of people I went to school with shared the unenlightened views of their parents. Purple was not a colour men wore – it was a colour for girls.

Pam brandished her middle finger in front of me before rooting around in her bag and producing a tube of Tide to Go. She scooted closer to me and grabbed my arm to turn me towards her.

"You know, it would be easier if you took this off. But as usual, you're being a pussy. Seriously, who gives a fuck what you're wearing under your sweater? Why do you always let these small-minded, backwards rednecks dictate what you do? Who fucking cares what they think," she ranted as she tried valiantly to remove the offending coffee stain from my top.

I smiled at her as she continued to ramble. If I didn't have Pam, I would have run away with the circus years ago. Sure, she swore like a sailor, dressed in various shade of black, grey, and occasionally red and sported a head of hair that would rival Rainbow Brite, but she kept me sane. She made me laugh and she shared my dream about leaving the little backwater parish we had grown up in. Just six more months of hell, and we would be in New York City. We had been accepted to NYU where she would be studying visual art and I was taking creative writing and history. I figured I'd need a fallback career until my first book got published and teaching seemed like it was easy.

There was some commotion over at the table that Sookie was sitting at. Her friends were clapping and looking towards the door as two girls carried in a cake and a bunch of balloons. Sookie's face lit up as the group around her started to sing, "Happy Birthday." I craned my neck to get a better look at her as the jocks and cheerleaders she hung out with crowded around her. She looked happy and for a brief moment, she caught my eye, the mega-watt smile fading and replaced with a sweet one just for me. Or, she was just being polite and felt bad for my loser ass sitting a table away. I preferred to think she was smiling for me.

I smiled back awkwardly, but the moment had passed.

I stood up abruptly and knocked Pam sideways. She muttered something under her breath while gathering her things up and followed me out of the cafeteria. I made a beeline for my locker and let my head drop against it. Pam got there a few seconds later, still muttering.

"What…the…fuck…? You do realize that I'm about a foot shorter than you, so when you go speed walking off, I have to practically run to keep up with you. What the hell is wrong with you today? You're acting weirder than normal – and that's saying a lot." She narrowed her eyes and looked up at me. "Fuck me, Northman. You're going to do it, aren't you? You're going to profess your love to that stuck-up dramarama bitch. Fuck, Eric. This is not going to end well."

I ran my hands through my hair before tying it back and looked down at my sweater. Sookie had once told me that she liked it, and had shown me her socks before saying, "Argyle is under-rated. I'm glad that I'm not the only one who thinks it should make a comeback."

That sweater had instantly become my favourite piece of clothing. And now, there was a large brown coffee stain on it.

SPOV

I'd never thought much about Eric Northman beyond the fact that he was tall and he hung out with that psycho-bitch, Pam Ravenscroft. He was by far the tallest guy in our class at well over six feet tall. I knew that he worked part-time at the indoor rock-climbing place in Clarice so he was probably fit, even though you'd never guess it by looking at him. But, in early October of our senior year, he had read out some of his prose in our creative writing class – and I really noticed him for the first time.

Eric tended to wear…well, weird clothes. They were a little retro and unlike the usual stuff that the guys in Bon Temps wore. It suited him though. The day that he read his work in class, he was wearing this cute blue and grey argyle sweater that brought out the blue in his eyes. It was the first day that I realized how cute he was. He had longish blond hair that was often tied back, brilliant blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when he laughed, and a shy smile that drew me in. That day when Eric was done reading, I leaned over and showed him my pink argyle socks and told him that the pattern was under-rated. It was the only thing I could think of saying to him at the time.

I continued to sneak looks at him though, and I was intrigued by him and his quiet manner – quite the opposite of Pam, who was a mouthy freak. I wondered sometimes if the two of them were going out – it would be such a waste if they were. With a little work, he could be sitting at my table instead of always just one away. But the way things were, I couldn't be seen talking to him outside of the necessities of class. I didn't want to risk becoming a social pariah when I was on track to becoming valedictorian and prom queen.

During lunch on my seventeenth birthday, I saw him watching me, and I toyed with the straw in my can of pop just to see what his reaction would be. I think his eyes nearly popped out of his head. I smiled to myself and went back to talking with my friends. Well, the people that I hung out with. I would only consider a few of them actual friends – people who I could count on when shit was going on in my life that I couldn't deal with. Amelia and Tara were the ones I turned to when my parents were killed at the start of my sophomore year – the rest were just filler until I got the fuck out of here.

I knew that there'd be cake, and I knew that there would be balloons on my birthday and I pasted on my brightest, fakest smile when they came in singing "Happy Birthday". I acted all shocked and touched, twittering on mindlessly about what great friends I had. When I turned away for a second, Eric caught my eye and for whatever reason, I dropped the fakeness and gave him a real smile – the smile that I kept for my best friends. He was so cute when he smiled back – all awkward and surprised. Maybe getting to know Eric Northman wouldn't be such a bad thing after all – as long as he left Pam the circus freak at home.

EPOV

Just before the bell rang, I saw Sookie walking down the hall carrying the balloons that her friends had given her. Her locker was a few down from mine – no, I wasn't stalking her, it just happened that way. I looked at Pam, who rolled her eyes at me and then down to the stain on my sweater. I couldn't go up to Sookie looking like a slob. Fuck it. I took my sweater off and stuffed it into my locker, then tried to assume a casual pose as she approached. Pam started laughing and I punched her in the arm.

"What the fuck did you do that for?" she demanded, giving me a dirty look.

I could tell that she was torn. I knew that she wanted to stay and see what happened, but she also didn't want me to get hurt. "Get the fuck outta here," I hissed at her.

Pam scowled at me before gathering her backpack and stalking off. It was now or never. Sookie was struggling with the combination of her lock and holding on to the balloons. This was my chance. She was by herself, and that rarely happened. I walked over to her.

"Hey Sookie, can I hold those for you?" I asked, smiling shyly at her.

She turned to look at me, and I swear her eyes bulged a bit. I figured that she was shocked about the size of my muscles. Just because I wasn't on the football team, didn't mean I didn't look after myself. I chuckled as the most beautiful shade of red flushed her cheeks. She nodded silently and handed me the balloons.

I resisted the urge to ask her if she saw something she liked and instead said, "Happy birthday, Sookie."

"Ah…um…thanks, Eric. I'll, uh, see you in…class later?" she stammered. She slammed her locker shut and I handed her back the balloons, nodding and smiling.

As she walked away I admired the retreating view of her ass. I may not have professed my love to her, but I had rattled her. I was pretty sure that she would notice me from now on. The bell rang and I whistled to myself as I headed to class. Pam was right – why did I care what the assholes in this school thought? I fucking rocked my manly purple.

A/N: I'd like to thank Tradermare for beta'ing this and encouraging me! I totes love her. And, of course the WC girls – Zigs, Meads, Linds and Sun for helping me to get it finished. You ladies rock my socks!

For all the stories written to celebrate FDM's birthday, head to: .net/u/2182132/FDMs_Birthday_Spectacular

Each writer has a chapter – this one is listed as Chapter 8.

I'm thinking of expanding this story into a multi-chapter one – let me know what you think! xoxoxo