Author's Note: I got so much feedback about my BTVS/SVM "crossover" story that I decided to combine my love of romantic comedies with the awkward and tense relationship between Eric and Sookie. This multi-chapter story will follow much the same MST3K format as "Art Imitates Life". This chapter is rated T but future chapters may be M. Enjoy!
Awkward Vampire Picture Show
Chapter 1
I found myself staring at the phone one night, a dreary rainy night in October. It was a Thursday, an unpleasant Thursday in a series of unpleasant Thursdays. Maybe if I stared at the phone long enough, it would ring. That had worked yesterday, I recalled. I'd been at work, and the Wednesday night shift had been abnormally quiet. Sure, it's Wednesday and most of Bon Temps saves outings for Friday and Saturday, but we get at least a few drunks before the night is over. Wednesday brought out Jane Bodehouse and a few men on a road trip for parts north, but that was pretty much it. At one point, I'd found myself staring at the phone, hoping for a family emergency to get me out of washing another table, filling another ketchup bottle. The phone over the bar rang like magic, like it had been divinely inspired! Sam grabbed it from the wall and held it to his ear. Then he held it out to me.
Pam was on the end of the line.
"Hey Sookie," Pam said into the phone. Of course you can't see expressions through the telephone, but a tone in her voice told me Pam wasn't smiling.
Things had been crazy since the new regime, since the King of Nevada had swooped in to conquer the states controlled by Queen Sophie-Anne. Eric, the only sheriff anyone considered worth his salt, had conceded to the take over. The whole business of Louisiana's vampire underbelly turned on its side. Of course, that meant that I'd been wholly separated from the Viking I'd been blood bound to, and his small posse of underlings. I hadn't even seen my neighbor, Bill Compton, in months. Not that I really wanted to, mind you. After about two months of silence from the vampire element (no visits, no phone calls, no letters, nothing!), Pam had stopped by the bar to visit and, I'm sure, check on me. She'd order a drink, ask me about my life, and then disappear again. She never stayed for more than a half hour, and she wouldn't linger outside the bar either. It was the strangest thing.
"Are you working tomorrow night?" Pam asked. I shook my head before I realized the movement wouldn't convey through the phone.
"No, I'm off,"
"Oh. Okay. Bye Sookie." The phone clicked. I stared at it. In fact, I stared at it for a solid minute before I registered that Pam had hung up. Then I hung up too.
Thursday was quiet and empty and long. I did two loads of laundry, then washed the dishes. I went through some old clothes to sort out which ones were worth taking to Good Will. For awhile, I sat on the sofa and tried to concentrate on a new book, but it just wasn't happening. At last, I decided to drive over to the video store for a couple of movies. If I was going to spend the night alone, again, I'd at least get a little entertainment out of it.
The video store was packed because the weather report had threatened rain. Halleigh Bellefleur was standing in the drama section with A River Runs Through It in one hand and Legends of the Fall in the other. She had good taste, I'd give her that. I moseyed past Portia in the horror section (go figure) and turned left into romantic comedies. Even when you're, essentially, single, romantic comedies are the best. They always made me feel a little lighter in the heartache department, like I wasn't the only one dealing with man-related issues; that it would all work out in the end. Men, I snorted. Men were all alike, breathing or not.
Now I was sitting on the sofa in front of the television. The fireplace crackled across the room, casting a warm reddish glow on the hearth. I had a bowl of popcorn, still piping hot, and a glass of Coke. Rain splattered the window. I tried not to think about how lonely I was. Don't worry, Sookie, these sorts of movies always cheer you up. You'll be fine. You don't need a man to keep you company!
But I hadn't seen Eric in three months. I missed him.
The bastard.
I got up to put the DVD in the player, but when I crouched down to take the disc out of its case, there was a knock at the door. Oh hell, it was eight o'clock! If that was Jason coming to ask for food because Crystal had kicked him out of the house, I wasn't taking him in. Maybe it was Amelia. Maybe she'd forgotten her key. No no, she'd knock on the back door if anything. I groaned and stretched as I got up from the floor. Grr, how frustrating.
In stocking feet, I stomped over to the door. Already riled up, already annoyed at the intrusion, I didn't even think about checking before I opened the door. Instant regret. Eric Northman was standing on my doorstep, and he was soaking wet.
Have you ever seen a dog come in out of the rain? You know, one of those big shaggy dogs, like a golden retriever? Their fur is all wet and sopping, probably leaving little puddles on the floor. Their eyes are all sad and mopey, perfect for tugging at your heart strings. You don't want to let the dog in because let's face it, he'll drag his wet body up onto your sofa, shake out his fur, and try to warm himself up in your lap. It's all very pathetic.
Eric looked pathetic now. He had that same wet dog look, and thankfully none of the wet dog smell. His thick blond hair was plastered against his face and neck. His white tee shirt was see through. His denim jeans had soaked up water so that he was wet to the knees. I shivered just looking at him. The vampire couldn't have looked sexy if he tried, if he'd even wanted to look the part of the dashing and powerful Sheriff of Area 5. I wanted to snigger, to mock him. After all, I hadn't seen him in months and now here he was, wet dog and tragic and sad.
"Eric," I coughed instead of giggling.
"My lover," he replied with a thick voice. Oh no, he didn't dare! My bed, my heart, had been cold for three months and he was calling me his lover? Was he on drugs?! I narrowed my eyes at him, took in the full extent of his tragic appearance, and twisted up my mouth.
"You look like a drowned rat." I spat. The nerve!
"May I come in?" He asked, not even giving me the dignity of a retort. All I wanted for about five seconds was a stellar fight, a real screaming match. I considered slamming the door in his face. His car wasn't even sitting in the driveway. He'd walked, probably flown here, in the rain, in the muck.
"Fine." I grunted. "But don't sit anywhere." Right. That'd teach him.
Eric stood in the middle of the floor and waited for me to shut the door, walk down the hall to the closet, fetch him a towel (pink with a white eyelet ribbon around the base), and pretty much hurl it at him from three feet away.
"You sent Pam," I growled at him. I just knew it, knew that he'd sent his lap dog (okay, Pam's my friend but she's Eric's child first) to check up on me, probably to see if I'd started dating someone else. Which, by the way, I totally would have if the situation had presented itself!
"I couldn't leave. They'd use you against me if they knew how…"
"How what?" I barked, cutting him off. "How you completely cut me off? How you obviously don't care enough to call or write or leave a fucking message?" Wow, I was really angry. Note the swearing?
"Sookie, these are dangerous times. If something happened to you…"
"Plenty of things have happened to me! I've been shot at, staked, stuck in a building that was blowing up around my ears, kidnapped, beaten up, kicked, raped, and all while I was around you! I don't think it could get much worse! All you had to do was pick up the damn phone!"
"Sookie, listen to me," Eric frowned. He'd dried off his hair, but his clothes were soaked through.
"Don't. Just don't okay? I don't want to hear it. I don't! It's my night off and I'm watching a movie. Stay if you want. Sit on the towel. But I don't want to hear a peep about how you're a god damned bastard!"
And with that, I stuck the DVD in the player with a little too much force, and slumped on the sofa. Eric let out a low sigh and placed the towel on the sofa cushion. He sat down stiffly, careful not to get his wet backside on the floral fabric. I dared a glance at his face and saw that those big blue eyes of his were dark with irritation, anger. He folded his hands on his lap and stared straight ahead.
"What is the film?" He spoke calmly through clenched teeth.
"Bridget Jones' Diary," I replied plainly.
"What is it about?"
"It's a feminist treatise about close friends. It teaches women to be single and avoid the tragedy of relationships." Not strictly true, but he didn't know that.
"Ah," was his brief reply.
I hit play.
"See, thirty-two years of singlehood," I said firmly. And Bridget was definitely capable of getting laid without having to date.
"They're British," Eric muttered.
"So?"
"I haven't been to Britain since…"
"Watch the movie." I grunted. Like I cared.
"He seems nice, attractive." Eric said, referring to Mark Darcy, the man in the ugly reindeer sweater.
"That's not something to base a relationship on." I pointed at the screen. "See? He's a complete jerk!"
I curled up on the sofa, making sure to avoid kicking Eric, or even touching him. I thought about getting up for a beer. Sounded like a great idea actually. Eric watched me get up.
"I don't have any blood," I said as I opened the fridge. "No vampires visit me anymore. It went bad. I threw it out."
"I'm fine," Eric said quietly.
"I didn't ask," I said. I sat back down and took a swig of beer from the bottle.
"She's belligerent, a drunk," Eric made a sour face.
"It was New Year's!" I said defensively. I couldn't remember when I'd last gotten drunk on New Year's Eve. I think I was in high school.
"Do you drink often, Sookie?"
"Whenever I feel like it!" Okay, so I rarely felt like it. Not a big deal.
"So flirting is acceptable in this feminist…what was it?"
"It's an individual choice, Eric. If a guy isn't a complete jerk, flirting is completely acceptable. The thing is, most men, at least every man I've ever met, are assholes."
"I see." He was stiff again. I hoped I was getting to him.
"So he's asked her out, and she said no?" He blinked at the screen.
"She's in control of the situation. She doesn't have to drop her own plans for him."
"I see. Modern women are very strange, Sookie."
"Strange how? Because we don't bend over backwards for you people?"
"We…people?"
"You people with the penises."
"Ah, those people. I thought you liked my penis, Sookie."
"Shut up." I growled. Try not to blush, Sookie. Remember how he ignored you!
Okay, what I've always loved about this film is that Bridget feels socially awkward. When people are being overtly intelligent and I have no idea what's going on, I get that very same grin on my face. Damn people trying to talk over my head like I'm some kind of idiot. Come to think of it, Eric and Bill have done the same thing! Bastards. I definitely wasn't thinking about Eric's penis now.
Oh, crap.
"Do you have a dress like that?" Eric asked, a very small smile on his face. Was he trying to flirt when I was so obviously angry at him?
"No." I said.
"Perhaps I should get you one. It looks very nice."
"I don't need charity, Eric."
"Where I'm from, we call them gifts."
"Right. Whatever." He wasn't going to get back in my bed by buying me a sexy dress.
"Honestly, I wouldn't mind having sex with Hugh Grant," I said thoughtfully. There, that'd rile him up.
"Oh? He seems a bit short to me." Eric said calmly.
"Everyone's shorter than you, Eric. He's very handsome, and funny." I paused and the scene changed. "He also looks quite good naked."
"The woman is also very pretty. Why don't we see her naked?"
"It's a film for women! Besides, it's a very pretty bra."
"It certainly is."
I muttered under my breath.
We sat in silence for awhile, just watching the television. Bridget was guffawing about her boyfriend, and then he was taking her away for the weekend. Briefly I thought about how nice it would be to go away for the weekend with Eric. We could have sex all night and sleep all day, and I wouldn't get into any scrapes with Weres or vampires or even regular ol' people. Wouldn't that be unusual?
"What are you thinking about?" Eric asked me. I guess I had a glazed look on my face.
"Just how nice it would be to do that rowboat thing," I said, nodding at the television.
"Oh. I didn't know you enjoyed the water."
"There are a lot of things you don't know about me." I frowned.
"So it would seem," Eric muttered.
"See, men are jerks. They spend all night with you and then abandon you after they'd made a commitment," I frowned, pointing aggressively at the movie. Hugh Grant was leaving Bridget for the weekend and it was all very rude.
"He seems to have a valid reason."
"Work isn't a reason!" I squeaked. Okay okay, so that wasn't subtle. But really, work was NOT a valid reason for ditching your…whatever I was, I mean, whatever Bridget was. Oh hell.
"Sookie, we really need to…"
"Stop. Movie." I interrupted, holding up my hand.
"That isn't actually what a common prostitute wears," Eric said, changing tack, as if I hadn't just cut him off mid-sentence.
"When was the last time you… Nevermind, I don't want to know." But I was curious, really curious.
"Red is more common. In fact, it was once the law," Eric tilted his head.
"That's great." Except that it wasn't great. It was terrible.
"See, this is what happens. THIS!" I was jabbing my finger at the screen again.
"What? She bothered him at work."
"No, no, not that. Just you watch." I had a searing vision of Bill and his maker. I actually felt a bit sick.
"Oh," Eric said quietly. "That."
"Yes! THAT!" I growled.
"Sookie, I'm not…"
"We're not talking about it!" I squeaked. I tossed the rest of the beer down my throat, and got up for another one. When I turned to see Bridget crying in the bath, that was exactly where I wanted to be. I glugged the brew in one gulp and grabbed another one from the fridge.
Maybe I should've watched something else.
He's not seeing someone else, I thought. But now it was all I could do not to imagine him in bed with someone else, someone prettier, someone smarter. My stomach wobbled. I sat down again.
"You're getting drunk, Sookie." Eric observed.
"So?" I griped back at him. "It's only three beers. I can handle three beers!" Gin. What I really wanted was gin. Ooh, and chocolate.
"The woman in the movie is also drunk."
"Yep." I agreed. Mm, chocolate ice cream with peanut butter would be divine right now. I drank half the bottle in front of me.
I was watching the movie again, watching Bridget smirk at Daniel and telling him to get bent. I giggled. Eric raised an eyebrow and looked at me inquisitively. With the kind of attitude I reserved for moments of intoxication, I stuck out my tongue at the irritated Viking. Yep, I was on fire now. Sookie, you need another beer.
"I need another beer," I beamed, daring him to interfere. He didn't. Smart vampire, he was. I set the empty bottle beside the kitchen sink and dug around in the cabinets for something a bit stronger. In Amelia's cabinet, to my surprise, there was a bottle of tequila. Ooh tequila! I grabbed the bottle and scurried back to the television to watch Mark Darcy be awkward and awesome at the same time. The tequila stung the back of my throat. My eyes watered.
"Say it!" I beamed at the television. "Seriously, this is the most unusual way to hit on someone, but he looks so honest when he does it." I wasn't talking to Eric, but babbling at the TV.
I like you very much, just as you are. I squealed with happy, slightly drunk giggles. Now that was the way to suck up to a girl. Yep, that was totally it. Eric sat beside me with both eyebrows raised. His perfect skin wrinkled a little.
Everything was getting romantic now. Why couldn't Eric be romantic? Argh. Tequila was more romantic than the cold, damp blond butthead sitting beside me.
"What is she doing?" Eric frowned as though he could sense the impending doom of the situation.
"Just because you have a vagina doesn't mean you know how to cook or even like it," I pointed out, slurring my words a little.
"I didn't know the two were related." Eric observed.
"Oh sure, right. You don't even know how to microwave your own blood!" Okay, that wasn't true because I was sure I'd seen him do it. Jason, my brother, couldn't even find the spatula in the kitchen sink.
"Perhaps you should stop drinking,"
"Oh right! You'd like that wouldn't you!" I sputtered before I glugged another mouthful of alcohol straight from the bottle.
"I would."
"Fine!" I put the cap on the bottle and thrust it at him. He took it. "But only because I'm actually respectful of someone's feelings!"
Eric sighed loudly.
"You never once fought over me," I observed. It was getting to that part of the movie. Bill and Eric replaced Daniel and Mark in my head, fighting over me. It was pretty hot actually. Bill's shirt would be stuck to him because it was raining. Eric's hair would be all in disarray and he'd be half-naked. There'd be blood on both of them, but just a little so I could nurse the winner back to health. Yep, that would be great. Drooling. I was definitely drooling.
"I did not have claim to do so," Eric replied. He was gazing from me to the television and back again. "Is that what you want?"
"Maybe,"
"Who would you like me to hit? Bill? The tiger? Alcide?"
If I actually answered, he might do it. Bill had hurt me, so Eric could kick him in the teeth. Quinn had betrayed me… Hm, best not to answer at all.
"Sookie?" He was still looking for a response.
"I am watching a movie, Eric," I frowned to avoid the answer.
"Right." He ground his teeth together. I could feel his anger making me angry. "And when it's over, you'll answer me."
"Whatever," I muttered. Unfortunately, the movie was almost over. Maybe by then, I could figure out how to talk to him. Psh, doubt it.
The movie was winding up, and my mood switched from haughty and maybe a little bitchy (or maybe a lot) to romantic and sappy and a little sad. I pulled my knees up to my chest and leaned my elbows on top of them. Eric was sitting so close to me. Just reach out and touch me, I thought. Please just hold me and snuggle me and don't say anything. But he didn't of course. He was still all pissed off and rejected. I leaned my chin on my arms. Fuck fuck fuck, why couldn't he have just visited or called or… anything?! Even though we were sitting this close, I felt completely alone.
Yes yes, stick your fucking tongue down my fucking throat!
I couldn't even look at him without attacking him for a really good, really hard screwing.
"Do you have a diary, Sookie?" Eric asked me, apparently unaware of my completely inappropriate lust.
"What? No. No." I shook my head. Then I shook it again.
"It would be helpful to know what you're thinking sometimes."
"Likewise." I said quietly. Like if right now you're thinking about throwing me down on the floor in front of the hearth.
They're going to kiss! They're kissing and I'm not kissing! And then I was mad all over again.
"I can't…I'm off on Sunday. We can talk then." I said quietly, getting to my feet. Eric took my hand across the sofa, and I looked at it the way one might regard a cold, slimy fish. Or maybe a brand new vibrator. I couldn't decide.
"I look forward to it," Eric said quietly. "I will see you then."
He moved to kiss me, but like some kind of angry fool, I turned my head. His lips brushed my cheek . Then he dropped my hand and walked to the door. It shut behind him with a cold, soft click.
I dropped on the floor to my knees. Sunday was only a few days away. I needed another movie.