A/N: So this is my little fun one-shot. I just had the idea: what if someone did a bizarro SVM story? Everything sort of opposite? Eric not totally confident, Sookie confident, Bill, well, more of a drama queen? So I just decided to have a little fun and a laugh. Hope you enjoy!
"Lover, do these leather pants make my bottom look fat?"
I sighed. "No, Eric, for the millionth time, your bottom is hands down, cheeks up, bar none, NOT FAT." Lips grazed my cheek as a blonde blur whizzed past me out the door.
"Thank you, lover. By the way, you look ravishing as always tonight. I look forward to doing just that later. Have a good night at work, keeping the crazies calm." A smirk was thrown my way as the front door to my farmhouse opened and shut, and I heard Eric's 'Vette roar to life and head towards Fangtasia.
^V^
Let me go back and explain a little bit. My name is Sookie Stackhouse, and I'm a telepath. I live in a small town called Bon Temps, Louisiana. Some people might let being a telepath hold them back, but not me. Sure, school was hard for me – all those voices screaming wrong answers, then add teenage hormonal thoughts to the mix – but luckily I had my Gran in my corner. She arranged for me to be a library aide, which basically gave me uninterrupted quiet time to study. It also didn't hurt that my brother, Jason, is the town brain. I mean, he's literally a rocket scientist. He turned the shed in our yard into a lab and was blowing stuff up by the age of nine. We lost a lot of trees, and a few good pets thanks to his experiments. Lucky for us, we have acreage with tons of trees to spare. Shame about the pets, though. After a while, I just stuck to a turtle. Jason pretty much left Mr. Turtle alone.
Our Gran is a free thinker. She encouraged us to follow our dreams, our hearts, do whatever we wanted in life. She never wanted us to be tied down to small town life. She raised us after our parents died when we were little, and pretty much shaped us into who we are today. Jason was recruited by NASA before he was out of high school, but he loves Bon Temps so much he works free-lance, commuting to Houston every few months. He mostly stays home, though, thinking outside the proverbial box. I, on the other hand, wasn't so sure what I wanted to do. I made it through high school just fine, and Gran got me tutors to help me focus on subjects I couldn't work out on my own during library time, so I scored really well on tests. I was accepted to just about any college I wanted. However, I found I didn't want to leave our little town, either. So, to pass the time, I got a job waitressing at the local watering hole, Merlotte's.
I've always been fascinated by human nature, since I hear what people think, see how they act, and note the differences. I realized pretty fast that people's minds tended to wander to minute things–their troubles, their fantasies, their hopes and dreams–when they ate. Usually, their minds were on everything BUT their food. I found it fascinating to listen in and observe what people's true thoughts were, even when they were thinking unkind things about me. During one of my long talks with Gran over breakfast, this brought me around to the idea of studying psychology.
I knew I eventually wanted to go to college, it was just a matter of when, where, and HOW – how to block out all those minds. College students, I thought, would be smarter, more focused than high school students, and therefore even harder to block. It was around this time that the vampires "came out of the coffin." This event would affect my life dramatically, though I didn't know it at the time.
I was still pondering the idea of college, and listening in on my patrons, when a vamp strolled into Merlotte's one night. I knew him immediately for what he was, given his pallor and his sort of otherworldly "glow." I introduced myself and he did the same, telling me his name was Bill Compton, and that he had moved into the old Compton place just adjacent to ours.
I brought him a blood and as I handed it to him, our hands touched. Normally when I touch someone, I'm bombarded with thoughts and images from their head. But with Bill, all I got was a cool, quiet void. HELLO! I immediately took another look at my new neighbor. He wasn't bad looking – handsome, in an old-fashioned way. He had dark hair, which was rather longish, and horrid sideburns, but lovely dark, dark eyes. Medium height, and the physique you get from manual labor; all-in-all, not a bad specimen of a man.
Now seeing as I got bombarded with thoughts whenever I touched someone, I was still hanging onto my v-card, and it was waaaay past its expiration date. I'd heard from some of the other waitresses' minds that vamps were supposed to be great in bed. (Some might say it's rude to listen in on other people's thoughts; I call it educational.) With this in mind, I gave Bill my best smile and pushed my boobs out a bit – it never hurts to work your assets. His eyes scanned from my smile, down to my neck, to my tight t-shirt, then back to my neck, and finally to my eyes.
"Sookie, would you like to ... meet me outside after your shift?" he asked slowly, obviously trying to glamor me. (By this point, glamor and other thing about vamps were becoming common knowledge.)
"I'll meet you at your house after I get off work, Bill, if you knock off the glamor shit," I replied.
He looked shocked, then intrigued. A small smile crossed his face. Too bad he couldn't lose the sideburns, though. "Fair enough, Sookie. I would be honored to have you as my guest later tonight."
I nodded and left the table, and when I looked back, he was gone.
About 2:30 that night, or the next morning, however you want to look at it, I pulled my old car up in front of Bill's crumbling house. I climbed the front steps with purpose and raised my hand to knock on the door. It opened before my knuckles could strike the peeling paint on the wood.
"Sookie, welcome," Bill gestured for me to come inside. I noticed he said my name oddly, like "Suuuuukeeeeeeehhhh." Weird, but I wasn't going to mention it. I had other things on my mind.
"Can I get you a Fresca?" he asked.
"Nope," I responded, tossing my purse onto the old divan. "I'm here to barter with you, Bill."
"Barter, eh? And what are we bartering for? What do you have to offer, and what do you need from me?"
"You need blood, correct?"
"Well, I'm mainstreaming. We can live on TrueBlood-" He began with the AVA spiel, but I cut him off.
"Oh, spare me the party line. You need – or more accurately, want – blood, correct?"
"Well, yes."
"Would you like my blood?" I asked. His eyes dilated a bit.
"What do I have to do for your blood, Sookie?" he whispered.
"I'm still a virgin, Bill, and to be honest with you, my hand just isn't cutting it any more. I'll lay it on the line for you. I'm a telepath. I can hear people's thoughts. That's why I'm still a virgin, because it's kind of a turnoff to hear the thoughts of a guy you are considering having sex with. You, on the other hand, I can't hear. Which is pretty hot in and of itself, to be honest. It's hot enough to overcome your sideburns. So, here's the trade – you take my v-card, you get my blood. Sound good?
He was on me before I finished my sentence.
Thus began my sexual history. Bill was pretty good, to be fair. And he certainly seemed to enjoy my blood. We had a good relationship, such as it was. I was an eager student, and he taught me everything he knew. Our little arrangement also had a side benefit – Bill knew a lot about computers, and he taught me a lot. I mentioned to him that I wanted to go to college, but that it would be hard with all the thoughts I'd have to block out, and he suggested online courses - which turned out to be a roaring success.
A few years passed quite happily. I took accelerated classes, clepped out of a few, and managed to get my PhD in record time. Thus I found myself Dr. Sookie Stackhouse, waitress, trying to figure out what to do next with my life.
I lived with Gran, saw my brother frequently (when he wasn't blowing up things in the woods), had regular orgasms with Bill, learned more about computers, explored the internet and social networking, and still spent a great deal of time thinking about all of the problems going on behind closed doors in small towns that people would never talk about. Then, one night, peeking into the mind of the slutty waitress, Dawn, I saw HIM - the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen.
Tall, blonde hair past his shoulders, with a build that would make a male model weep and then run to the gym. He had beautiful blue eyes and a captivating smile. In Dawn's head, he was wearing tight black jeans and a black tank top, and oh, how I wanted to lick his shoulders- just from the vision in her mind. I'd never seen anything like him. I immediately gathered that his name was Eric and he owned a vampire bar in Shreveport, that he was very old and very strong, and reputed to be quite the lover. Dawn was thinking how she couldn't wait until her next day off to go back to Fangtasia to see him again, and what she could do to catch his eye. Well, we'll just see about that.
"Bill, what's Fangtasia?"
"It's a vampire bar in Shreveport, why?"
"Can we go? Like, tonight?"
"Why do you want to go?"
"Because we never go out. I sit in my house with my wi-fi and you sit in your house with your wi-fi and we IM each other. We get together every other night to have sex. We never go out to restaurants because you don't like being around human food. I want to go out. I want to go dancing. I figure there won't be any human food at a vampire bar." I was totally reaching. The only reason I wanted to go was to see if HE was there. He was all I'd been able to think about since I'd gotten the glimpse of him from her mind. I didn't think it was a good idea to go to a vampire bar alone, though, so I was coercing my local vampire-slash-lover to take me.
Said vampire-slash-lover gave an unnecessary sigh. "Fine." He huffed upstairs to change into a new henley shirt and khakis, and I skipped home to put on a dress I'd been saving for a special occasion. It was white with little red flowers, and it worked all my assets. I put on a little makeup, curled my hair, and slipped on my red fuck me pumps and red pinup girl lipstick.
Bill was waiting in his Grandma Cadillac by the time I was ready. (Seriously, even my Gran doesn't drive a Cadillac. She drives a Smart Car. But, like I said, she's a forward thinker, whereas Bill, well, he's kind of ... not.) He took one look at me and said, "You look like vampire bait."
"Er, okay?" I replied, although inside I was thinking, "Squeeeee!"
We listened to Tuvan throat singing while Bill drove to Shreveport at the pace Galapagos turtles mate. Finally, we pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall next to a Toys 'R' Us (Really? Was there NO other real estate available in Shreveport?) and parked. Bill possessively gripped my waist as we bypassed the line of pale Emo people dressed in what looked like Hefty bags. I wriggled out of his grasp as we reached the door.
A pale blonde woman, who literally looked like Alice in Wonderland wearing Elvira's clothes, was manning the door. She gave Bill a small nod.
"Bill."
He nodded back. I guess that's vamp code for a handshake.
"Pam."
The woman – Pam – turned her eyes to me. "Who's your friend?"
"This is-" Bill started, but I cut him off.
"I'm looking for Eric."
Bill looked horrified. "You said you wanted to dance! And how do you even know Eric?"
"I lied. Saw him in someone's head," I said to Bill. "So? Eric?" I shot at Pam.
I swear she almost-almost- laughed. "Oh, this is rich," she said. "I can't wait to see what he has to say about this."
She led me inside, leaving a stunned Bill at the door, and into the club, towards a raised dais. Gathered around the base of the dais was a group of the same type of Emos from outside, groveling on their knees. A throne was placed on the stage, with a very, very bored man on it. The same man I had seen in Dawn's head. Hello, lover!
Pam kicked her way through the throng of kneeling humans. "Move aside, vermin! Can't you see these are Louboutin boots? Ugh!" She stepped up onto the platform and reached her hand out to me, helping me over the supplicants. I think I caught one of their hands with my stiletto, but I couldn't care less at that point.
"Master, you have a visitor." The blonde Adonis didn't even look up from his Blackberry where, when I took a step closer, I could see he was playing Tetris, of all things.
"Not interested, Pamela, you know that. I'm bored with these humans and besides, I feel a little bloated tonight from that last feed. These jeans aren't helping." I snickered a little and he scowled, but didn't stop playing. He must be on a tough level.
"She said she – how did you put it?- plucked you out of someone's head."
"I saw you," I supplied helpfully. Dammit, Sookie, of all the times to have a "I carried a watermelon" moment! You have a PhD, for crying out loud!
"You saw me," he said doubtfully. "Right."
"Well, I doubt there are many 6'5", blonde vampires who own bars named Fangtasia, who are named Eric, who are sex gods around here," I replied cheerfully. "At least, not that I've seen or heard in people's heads," I mumbled to myself.
Pam snickered. "She does have you nailed, Eric. Well, not literally, yet anyway."
Eric finally looked up from his game of Tetris. "Yes, thank you for that astute observation, Pamela. So, if you can 'pluck' things out of people's heads, that would make you a-"
"Telepath, yes. I'm a telepathic waitress with a PhD in psychology." In for a penny, in for a pound, I guess.
Eric took a deep sniff. "And part fae." Pam's eyes lit up and her nostrils dilated.
"Okie-dokie," I replied. Roll with the punches, I always say.
"And she's mine," Bill growled from behind me.
I spun around as all our eyes focused on Bill, who had evidently just snapped out of his earlier stupor at my little deception in getting him to bring me to Fangtasia.
Eric's eyes moved from Bill back to me. "Are you his?"
"Oh for fuck's sake, Bill, I'm not yours and you know it! You were just a means to losing my v-card! We were just fuck buddies! Neighbors who had sex! We had a barter system – sex for blood, remember? Not to be too technical or mean here, but I was pretty much using you to learn on, kind of like a starter car. And, to be honest, you're kind of out of tricks. Or, to stick with the car analogy, you're all dinged up and I need to trade up. And, well, up is sitting behind me."
Eric and Pam were snickering and Bill's face was goggling like a fish out of water. "B-but, Sookie ... we're good together ... I mean we ..."
"And another thing: my name is pronounced 'soo-kee.' It rhymes with 'cookie.' It's not hard! Babies can say it! Anyway, thanks for the ride, Bill, but I think I can find my own ride home."
Eric rose from his throne behind me. I turned, and looked up, and up, and up. He grinned. "Oh yes, 'Soo-kee,' you will certainly be getting a ride tonight."
^V^
Which brings us pretty much up to date. Oh, well, except for a few little things. One being, Eric and I have been together since that night. I may have been expecting a Sex God and a few great shags, but I ended up with quite a bit more. Here's a quick recap:
1) Besides having one of the world's best bottoms (Which, in case he reads this, is NOT fat in leather pants or ANY pants, for that matter), he's also the world's best kisser.
2) Underneath the big, bad Sheriff exterior is a really sweet soul (Yes, I believe vampires have souls) who is very thoughtful, considerate and kind – at least to me.
3) Eric and I are blood bonded, which makes for some really mind blowing sex. We didn't really plan on bonding, but, well, the heat of the moment, and we lost track of how many times we'd exchanged blood, yadda yadda yadda. And bam! Blood bond.
4) Also underneath that exterior lies a secretly insecure Obsessive Compulsive who constantly regrets eating his last meal of venison as a human. (See comment about fat bottom.) (This is the psychologist speaking.)
5) Pam is fan-fucking-tastic, and has become one of my best friends. She's snarky and wonderful, and I love her. I know she loves me, even though she will never admit it.
6) Yes, Eric tells me he loves me. He's secure enough in his masculinity, his position in the vampire world, and his sexual prowess to be completely open with me. (Again, see "fat bottom" comment for example of openness.)
I no longer work as a waitress at Merlotte's. I started an online therapy site, for those too shy to meet in person (or those living in a small town and feel they are unable to go to a therapist for fear of public scorn) who want their inner thoughts to match up to their outer actions. It's called thehappyself(dot)com and I've got a waiting list now. (You can Google or Wikipedia my diplomas if you are in doubt of my qualifications.) I also have a blog (seems everyone has a blog these days) on Blogger, with Eric, where we blog about working out relationship issues (and we have ours, believe me). Since Eric is a priest through The Church of the Loving Spirit (ordained online) we offer pre- and post- marriage counseling, and Eric does weddings. Pam gives advice to both of us, gleaned from years of reading Dear Abby.
I work entirely out of our old farmhouse, which has become the center of our little world. My sessions are mostly at night, since I'm mostly on vamp hours now, and Eric lives here full time. The farmhouse has been modified to be light safe for him in certain rooms. He and Gran get on like gangbusters, and even Pam has a room. Pam likes to shop for Gran, spice up her wardrobe a bit. Speaking of Gran...
She popped her head into my office. "Sookie dear, I'm off to practice the next position in the Kama Sutra with Mayor Norris. He's been taking Glucosamine for his joints and we're hoping it will help us out a bit." She winked, then toddled off down the hall with a bag tucked under her arm. I caught a glimpse of the name and sighed. Pam had been shopping for her at La Perla again. I just hoped it didn't give poor Mayor Norris a heart attack.
"Have fun!" I yelled down the hall after her.
"Oh, we will!" she called back with a definite smirk in her voice. No wonder she and Eric got along so well.
The next few hours went quietly. I made a small dinner for myself, and met with several patients online – one of which I suspected was Maxine Fortenberry, the town gossip. I was advising her that it was good for one's adult son to find love and move out, get married, start a life of his own (at the ripe old age of 29), and had made some small progress when the session ended. I sighed. Well, baby steps. I stood and stretched, rolling my neck on my shoulders.
And that's when I heard it. I froze.
THWAP! The sound of a body being hurled against the outside of the house, just outside my office.
THWAP! And then, "SOOOOOKKKKKIIIIIIEEEEEHHHHHH!"
I sighed. Bill, again. It seemed Bill had become quite addicted to my (unknown to me at the time) fairy laced blood, and considered himself head over heels in love with me (one of the side effects of fairy blood). (Before you ask, no, Eric is not in love with me because of my fairy blood. He's in love with me because of the blood bond. Just kidding! We just love each other because of, well, just because. Get over it and move on.)
Anywho, this happens about twice a week. I went to the kitchen and got the broom, then headed for the back porch.
"Bill Compton!" WHOOSH! He was right in front of me.
"Sweetheart! How I've missed you!"
"Mm-hmm, yes, I know. Bill, we've talked about this. It's over. I'm with Eric now. Go home!"
"But I love you! My precious!" He threw himself down on the back steps and wrapped his arms around my ankles.
"Oh, for Christ's sake, Bill, SCAT!" I started hitting him with the broom. Usually that works. He's afraid of wood. I kept smacking him on the head – nothing.
"My preciouuuussss..."
"Oh for the love of fuck..." I muttered as I dragged myself towards the door, Bill attached to my ankles. "Bill, you know your invitation is rescinded. Let go!"
"NO!" he pouted. "MINE!"
"Goddamn vamps and their 'mine' fuckery..." I said, reaching inside the door for my cell. I hit '1' on my speed dial.
"Fangtasia, the bar with bite," a bored voice answered.
"Hi Pam," I responded grumpily.
"Let's see, its Thursday ... the broom didn't work?"
"No, and he won't let go, either."
"My telepathic friend, how many times do I have to tell you psychology will not work on vampires?" Pam asked merrily, thoroughly enjoying my predicament, although it happens at least every other week.
I could hear Eric in the background. "Is it Compton again?" To which Bill, easily hearing him through the phone, shouted, "MINE!" Then I heard crashing, the sound of objects being thrown, Eric roaring "She is NOT his!" and a door slamming.
Pam came back to the phone. "I take it you know Eric is on his way?"
"I gathered that," I said drolly. "And Pam?"
"Yes, Sookie?"
"Psychology works on your Master all the time." I snapped the phone shut and settled down to wait, Bill sobbing and whimpering at my feet. Ah, Thursdays.
About ten minutes later, a leather-panted blur touched down in the yard and literally ripped Bill away from me. I went back inside, not wanting to witness the scene. I got the general idea from what little I overheard, though.
"She..." -THUD- "not..."
"Soooookkkiiieeeeehhhh... - er, ouch!"
"Final death" -WHAM!- "do not make me" -SLAM!
"Sooookkk" -cough- "dammit, Eric, that hurt!"
And finally, with a Viking battle cry, "MINE!" I heard the faint thud of Bill landing on his front porch. Moments later, Eric came strolling calmly in our own front door, looking only slightly worse for wear. I wordlessly handed him a clean racer back tank top.
"Oh, I think I will be needing that later, Lover. Right now, I'm in the mood to do some claiming." Smirk.
I gave a smirk of my own. "Claim away, Viking."
Several hours later, as he redressed in his leather pants and clean tank top to head back to Fangtasia, he asked, "Lover, are you SURE these pants don't make my bottom look fat?"
I groaned and buried my head under the pillow.