A/N: This is an entry for Weekly One-Shot Challenge #7. The theme: "The only thing I've ever made in the kitchen is a mess, and several small fires."
Pizza Night
"Just a second, just a second!" I yelled through the house. I was standing on the back porch, next to the grill, rubbing marinade into a steak. It was raining out, but hey, in April, you have to start firing up the grill. Across the house, there was a knock at the door. I knew it had to be Eric, but he was a polite sort of guy. He wasn't going to come in if I didn't answer the door. But see, when you have meat juice all over your hands, it's hard to open the door.
"If you ask me in, I'll just enter!" I heard Eric shout back. Yes, he shouted through the front door, through the house, back at me. And I heard him, because Eric Northman can be really loud when he wants to be. Was it the fact that he was a vampire or that he was once some badass Viking? I don't know. But the man is loud.
"So come in already!" I yelled back. My voice was getting tired with all the screaming back and forth like this. I continued rubbing the marinade into the meat. I added a little salt to tenderize it. Amelia came in through the porch door, walked around me, raised an eyebrow at my steak, and kept right on going.
"You know, your hunky vampire boyfriend is at the door." She looked up. "Oh, now he's in the door."
"I'm making one for you." I told Amelia. I actually held up the steak so she could see it. She beamed suddenly, no longer jealous of my delicious evening meal.
"Oh! Great! You need me to help?"
"Nope, I'm good. I have a man who doesn't eat. I'm sure he'll make a great chef."
"Actually, I've been told I'm magnificent in the kitchen," Eric said matter-of-factly. He was standing just inside the doorframe onto the back porch. I put down the steak and looked at him, raising my eyebrow.
"I told you that, and I've never seen you cook." I smirked.
"Oh," he grinned that sly, teasing grin. "Yes, now I remember."
"You big flirt," I jabbed him playfully with my elbow. He grabbed my arm and pulled me against him, meat juices and all.
"What's all this mess you're making, lover? Been bathing in blood? Sounds like my kind of party."
"Its cow's blood and peppercorn marinade." I rolled my eyes.
"I've had better," he frowned, turning up his nose like he'd just been offered bottom shelf caviar.
"I know you have. But see, I like my meat meaty and not bloody." I turned back to the grill and flicked on the gas. I stuck a match on the coals and away it went, flaming and everything. I stuck the steaks on the grill and listened to them sizzle.
"How long will that take to cook?" Eric asked. He slid his arms around my waist and pulled me roughly against him. Boy oh boy.
"I don't know. Ten minutes? Eight?" I leaned back against him and looked up into his face. "Think you can do me that fast?"
"The question isn't can I do it, my lover. The question is, can you handle it?" He winked at me and his hands flew down to the button on my jeans.
"Can I handle it?" I laughed. "Can you?"
"Let's find out."
Eric turned me around and yanked my pants down around my ankles. His hands moved at lightning speed. His fangs were extended and he was staring at me with ever-darkening blue eyes. He lifted me up off the ground, holding my ass in both hands. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. My tongue dove into his mouth and at the same time, his cock dove into me. My groan was drowned out by his kiss. Vaguely, I listened to the sizzle of the meat on the grill. I inhaled the scent of cooking beef, watched the flames flicker and dance, enjoyed the bucking of his hips as he pushed me into the wall. I found my footing on the edge of the little folding prep table that attached to the grill.
"Ow!" I squeaked suddenly. I bit down on Eric's tongue. He yanked his head back, surprised. I kicked my foot and saw a smoldering piece of charcoal briquette sitting on the skin of my ankle. I squirmed to get it off. Eric was clueless. He stopped thrusting and looked into my face, but I was completely distracted.
"Ow what?" He demanded. He probably wanted to know if he was hurting me. I kicked my foot again, managing to dislodge both the charcoal and the preparation table. Eric stumbled backward, still confused by my squirming, my yelp of pain, the whole kit and caboodle of confusion.
"Eric! Look out!" He was still holding me and we went falling backward together, right into the damn grill. The whole contraption went flying. The grill fell out of place and slammed down into the flaming briquettes. Sparks shot up and rained down on me, on Eric, on the little vinyl sofa that sat on one side of the porch. I yowled in pain as one of the sparks went falling down my shirt, right between my breasts. I danced around like a maniac trying to get it out. The tips of my hair singed off when another spark flew, this one a whole chunk of ashes.
Then the flames started. There were spots of them on the vinyl sofa and the whole room began to smell like melting plastic. Eric began to holler and I turned away from where I was stamping out the sofa with my arm. He'd caught fire. Worst thing ever for a vampire next to, yanno, staking them. But he wasn't hollering at the flames licking their way up his arm. He was yelling about the fact that I was quickly being surrounded by a circle of fire. How had I not noticed? I ran at Eric, still flaming and blackening and smoking. He ran right back at me, leaped over the spreading chaos, and buckled me against his big chest. I tore off my shirt and wrapped it around his arm to put out the flames. I didn't even want to look at whatever his skin looked like underneath.
I started to cough, then to choke. Eric buried me against his body and tried to shield me from the fire. That only led to more breathing difficulties. If there was air anywhere, I couldn't find it.
"Sookie!" Amelia screamed across the porch. I tore around to look at her. We were standing in an ever-shrinking circle of fire. The couch was really roaring now and the grill was black with smoke. There were flames crawling up the walls and licking the doorframe. But Amelia Broadway had the phone in one hand and a fire extinguisher in the other. She tossed the phone.
"I called 911! Are you okay?"
"We're okay!" I coughed. Well, for the most part. I mean, we weren't dead (exactly), so, bonus.
"Okay, let's see, pull the pin, aim, and shoot. Okay. I think I've got it."
Fire retardant foam went in every direction, and only half of those directions were fire-related. I got sprayed in the face and Eric caught a big splotch on his shirt. As soon as we had a clear path out of danger, he dragged me from the room. I could already hear sirens coming down the street. Why yes, Sookie Stackhouse's house was on fire again. Twice in the same freaking year! The insurance company was going to love my explanation for this. Well you see, sir, I was having sex with my Viking vampire lover and then I got burned by a charcoal briquette and then…well it was just chaos. Oh yeah. He was going to love that.
Eric sat down heavily on the floral sofa in front of the old fireplace. He always looked really out of place sitting on that sofa. Imagine a big burly man with day old stubble (thousand year old stubble) and long blond hair, wearing black jeans and a tight muscle shirt, sitting on a sofa with a vibrant, horrifying floral print. It's a weird and scary thing. And it's completely unsexy. I sat down next to him.
"Is your arm okay?" I didn't want to peel my shirt off of him.
"It would be better if you allowed me to drink from you." Eric said. He smiled at me.
"What? No! I don't care if you're as crispy as a deep-fried Thanksgiving turkey! I am not giving you my blood!" I stared at him, stunned.
"Why the hell not?" Eric demanded to know. He looked positively taken aback.
"Because you burned down my back porch!" I gestured at the smoldering mess that had once been the porch.
"Me?" Eric pointed at his chest with his good hand. "I believe you started the fire. I was trying to save your life!"
"Fat lot of good that did me!"
"Why did you say 'ow' anyway? Did I hurt you?" He looked at me sympathetically. Oh good grief. Those big puppy dog eyes on top of the burnt arm. He was so manipulative!
"No you didn't hurt me. Believe me, if you hurt me, I'd tell you." I gave him the evil eye. "One of the briquettes jumped off the fire and burned my foot."
"Oh, you poor baby," he said flatly.
"Oh bite me! I didn't know you were gonna go all crispy!" Eric leaned in with his fangs out. I wiggled out of the way. "It's a figure of speech!"
"Damn."
"I guess I should order pizza," Amelia sighed. She sat down on the couch beside me and held up the cordless phone. "Do you want pepperoni or extra cheese?"
The End.