The Dead Pan Contest
Title: When Eric Met Sookie
Story/movie parodied: When Harry Met Sally
Characters: Eric & Sookie
Disclaimer: I do not own Charlaine Harris' characters nor the characters from When Harry Met Sally a Castle Rock Entertainment movie, written by Nora Ephron.
Summary: After college graduation, Sookie and Eric travel to New York together and try to decide whether women and men can be friends...even when they want to rip each others' clothes off. AH/AU.
When Eric Met Sookie
The silver minivan pulled up to the curb precisely at 8:00 am. Punctual, Eric thought. It was goddamned early for him, but he'd stayed out all night celebrating his college graduation just so he could be here in time to meet the woman who was going to drive with him to New York.
She hopped out of the driver's side and hopped her way to the curb, eyeing Eric's army duffle bags and liquor boxes suspiciously.
She didn't literally hop, but Eric had the impression of a cute little bunny rabbit so "hopping" seemed appropriate.
"Eric Northman?" She struck her hand coolly and efficiently at him. "I'm Sookie Stackhouse." She smiled but Eric thought her smile was cool and efficient, too. A little energizer bunny, he thought.
"Heyhowsitgoin," he answered, all laid back sexy charm. Or so he thought.
Sookie looked Eric up and down. His long blond hair was tied back in a loose ponytail and it looked like he had a religious objection to shaving. Oh god ... what if ... she sniffed delicately. She sighed in relief. It didn't seem like he had a religious objection to bathing, too. That she would not be able to endure on the 14 hour trip to New York.
"Well," she said, "Better get your gear in the car." She had a southern accent, he noted. It went with her preppy clothes—bermuda shorts, trim tee and pink flip flops with something embroidered on them. Her toes were painted bright pink with daisies. Hm. Not his usual type. She seemed too perfect, like antique porcelain that would chip if you served nachos on them for the game.
They each settled in the car, her taking the driver's seat. He put his feet on the dash. Sookie looked over, pointedly, at the frayed Converse missing their laces. Eric saw the disapproval plainly telegraphed in her face.
"I thought it was a rental." He shrugged and put his feet down.
"It's my rental." Sookie said precisely. She leaned over to the GPS and pushed a button. Eric could smell her perfume. It smelled expensive.
"I've plugged the route from Chicago to New York City into the GPS. Every two hours, I've plotted our stops where we can take a break and switch drivers. Alternatively, we can stop every four hours, if your stamina is up to it," Sookie said in that efficient tone that was beginning to annoy Eric.
"Oh, my stamina is definitely up for four hours." Eric said suggestively.
Sookie made an audible sigh of disgust as she pulled out into the lane. "Look," she started, "I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me. Just because we're going to be driving in this car together for 14 hours does not mean that I want to be sexually harassed."
"What?" Eric's eyes bugged out.
"You heard me. If you try anything, I will call 911 and tell them you are kidnapping me over state lines." Sookie calmly looked in the rear view mirror and switched lanes. Eric just stared at her, not knowing what to say.
"My friend Sam Merlotte is a gentleman and he vouched for you. I hope you will not make him regret that decision," she finished with a firm nod of her head.
"Sam 'vouched' for me?" Eric looked at Sookie, dumbfounded. "I'm sorry, is this 1860? What planet are you from?"
"I'm from the South, where gentlemen treat ladies as such, they do not put their feet up in the car and they certainly pay a visit to the barber on a regular basis," Sookie said tartly. She looked over at him. Were those puka shells he was wearing? The t-shirt under his plaid flannel shirt was stained and the cargo pants looked like he had worn them in an actual cargo hold. She wondered how Sam Merlotte, the president of the best fraternity on campus had been able to live with a slob like Eric Northman for two years.
Eric sighed. She was definitely not his type. "Y'know, Sookie, we don't have to like each other, and we don't have to have sex if you don't want to." She rolled her eyes just like he expected. "We just have to get through the next fourteen hours, and then we'll never have to see each other again."
"Fine." Sookie jutted her chin out and slid some sunglasses on her face. They had a gold logo on the side, Eric noted. Damn, her sunglasses probably cost more than his whole outfit. Maybe his whole wardrobe. He wondered why she had wanted to split the cost of the minivan rental with anyone. Eric leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Well, they were in it now, he thought, as he settled down for a two—or four—hour nap.
After a brief minute, Sookie switched on the satellite radio. Eric listened for a minute and then said firmly, "Hell no."
Sookie frowned and looked at him. "What?" She asked.
"I am not listening to fucking Fox News for 14 seconds, much less 14 hours." Eric's voice was indignant.
Sookie paused and then smiled. "That explains it."
Now Eric frowned. "Explains what?"
"You're a liberal!" She smiled indulgently at him. "That explains the clothes, the general disregard for manners and hygiene, the expectation of casual sex with a stranger."
"I do not want to have sex with you," Eric said slowly.
Sookie's smile widened. "Oh, so you're a homosexual liberal." She shook her head ruefully. "I should have known."
"No, I'm not. I just don't have sex with uptight, frigid Ann Coulter wannabes," Eric said, his teeth clenched.
"You don't have sex with them, because they like to have sex with men who wear shoes with shoe laces in them." Sookie was smug.
Eric couldn't stand smug. "What do shoe laces have to do with sex, honey?" His voice was dripping with barely contained sarcasm.
Sookie paused for a moment. "Nothing." A little wrinkle appeared between her eyes. If she hadn't been such a bitch, Eric would have thought it was cute. "But those kinds of details tell you what type of man someone is."
Eric was lost. "So shoe laces tell you how good a man is in bed?"
Sookie shook her head. "No, they tell you what kind of husband he'd be."
"You want to get married."
"Yeah. So?" Sookie was a tad defiant. She felt uncomfortable for some reason.
Eric looked out the window. "Let me ask you this. Would you rather have one night of really amazing, mind-blowing sex with a guy you barely knew and would never see again or get married to a rich guy and never have sex at all?"
"Get married." Sookie said automatically.
A big smile spread across Eric's face. "That explains it."
"Explains what?" Sookie asked impatiently.
Eric looked at her now, sitting straight in her seat. Her long blond hair was neatly pulled back into a ponytail. He could see her lightly tanned skin in the morning light, her breasts pushing against the thin fabric of her t-shirt. She was really cute, objectively speaking, especially if she didn't open her mouth.
He leaned over toward her seat and said in a low, sexy voice, "You've never had amazing, mind-blowing sex before."
Sookie's mouth dropped as she gasped in indignation. "I have had LOTS of amazing sex."
Eric rolled his eyes. "No you haven't."
The crease between her eyes appeared again. "Yes, I have!"
Eric smirked at her. "Prove it."
Sookie glared at him. Then she remembered who she was. Sookie Stackhouse was a Southern lady, a former debutante and outgoing president of the Delta Delta Delta sorority. She did not prove her sexual activity, if any, and certainly not to any strange man wearing puka shells and flannel.
"I decline to prove my sexual experience." She put her nose in the air snootily.
"Fine." Eric smirked and folded his long arms across his chest. He closed his eyes, thinking maybe he'd get that nap in, now that he'd shut the prude up.
"Alcide Herveaux." Sookie said primly, not a full minute later.
Eric opened one eye. "What's that?"
"Not a what, a who. Junior year. Captain of the lacrosse team. Sex was so good with me he howled." The smugness was back, Eric noted.
"Good for you," Eric said drily and then closed his eyes again.
Not a full minute passed before Sookie said, "Look, obviously we don't like each other."
"Not a bit," Eric agreed, his eyes stubbornly staying closed.
"And I just can't keep up the witty repartee for the next thirteen and a half hours."
"Please, God, no." Eric threw a forearm across his eyes. The woman loved to hear herself talk.
"So maybe ..." Sookie bit her lip in a rare moment of indecision, and then she recovered. "Perhaps we can just be friends."
"Friends," Eric repeated.
Sookie brightened at the idea. Yes, it was a good plan. Friends was respectable, fine. Be polite, pleasant, make some interesting conversation, and the next thirteen hours and fifteen minutes would be gone before she knew it.
Sookie smiled at him. "Then it's settled."
"Only one problem." Eric sat up straighter and looked at her through narrowed blue eyes.
"What?" Sookie's eyes widened expectantly.
"Women and men cannot be friends," Eric said.
"What? That's ridiculous," Sookie snorted.
Eric shrugged. "It's a scientific fact."
Sookie looked at Eric like he was crazy. "Why can't women and men be friends?"
"Because sooner or later, one person, or both, will want to fuck the other one. Feelings will get hurt and the friendship is over," Eric explained matter of factly. "Therefore, true friendship is impossible."
"So ..." Sookie pointed a finger at Eric, "women and men can be friends if one of them doesn't want to fuck the other one."
"No ... because a man will always want to fuck a women. That is a scientific fact, too."
"But ..." Sookie smiled in victory. "You said you didn't want to have sex with me so therefore, we can be friends." Sookie's smile quickly faded at the thought that he didn't want to have sex with her. Poor sartorial choices and bad hair aside, she had to admit he was a fine specimen of man.
Eric bit back a smile. "Yeah, I know I said I didn't want to have sex with you, but biologically, after a few drinks, I'd want to put a sock in your mouth and fuck you so hard you'd cry."
Sookie frowned at the sudden tingling between her thighs. She realized she didn't know what they were talking about. Should she be pro-friendship or not? If she was Eric's friend would she get fucked or not?
Eric watched Sookie's frown crease in confusion and felt his cock harden as he thought about whether she'd make that same face while he slid inside her.
"So we're not going to be friends?" Sookie asked after a few minutes of quiet.
"It's impossible," Eric said.
"And we're not going to see each other after we get to New York?"
He shook his head. "I can't see why we would."
Sookie swallowed hard and pulled over the van onto the side of the highway. Eric looked out the window. "What are you doing?" He asked.
Coolly and efficiently, Sookie said, "I'm picking option A."
Eric's face was blank. "Option A?"
"Amazing, mindblowing sex with a guy I barely know and will never see again." Sookie put the minivan in park. She unbuckled her seatbelt and turned around, reaching into a suitcase behind her seat.
Eric's mind was racing and his cock grew harder looking at her tight rear end wiggling in the air as she rifled through her bag.
"Wh … wh ... what are you doing?" He asked again, this time a bit shakily.
Sookie turned around and dangled a piece of white fabric in front of his face. "I'm getting a sock," she whispered.
Fourteen and a half hours later, Sookie pulled over in New York City. Eric got out of the van, and unloaded his bags and boxes outside of an apartment building. He bent over and looked inside the window. "I guess this is goodbye," he said.
Sookie smiled politely. "Have a nice life."
Eric gave a half-wave. "You too." Bitch, he added silently as he turned to carry a box up the stairs.
Closet homosexual, she thought, as she put the van in gear and drove away.
... Five years later ...
Sookie Stackhouse checked her boarding pass for the gate for flight 888 to Chicago. She was walking briskly, as she always did, and attracting admiring glances from the men in the airport, as she knew she would. Her blond hair bounced as she walked, just brushing the tops of her shoulders. She was dressed in a trim black suit, the skirt at just the right length to be quietly sexy, the same vibe as her three and a half inch black heels. She approached the gate feeling calm, cool and collected until she saw a face that she never thought she would see again.
Sookie stopped suddenly and looked in her Prada tote bag as if she had forgotten something. Ignore him, she thought. It was five years ago and he won't remember.
Sookie studiously looked everywhere but at the six and a half foot tall blond man standing near the skyway door. The plane boarded and Sookie settled into her window seat. She paid polite attention to the flight attendants and then took out a trim leatherbound folder as if to do some work.
Suddenly, an arm thrust between the seats.
"I know you." Eric's voice came from behind Sookie as his finger pointed in emphasis.
Sookie pursed her lips. "I'm sorry?" She looked apologetic at the gentleman sitting next to her, on the aisle.
Eric's head popped up over her shoulder. "Snooki, right?"
"Um, no." She frowned. "Sookie."
"Yeah, that's right, Sookie. That's what I said. We did it in college right?"
Technically, they had already graduated. "No, I'm afraid not." Sookie turned back to her folder.
"Oh, that's right, we did it in the minivan!" Eric exclaimed loudly. Sookie and the man next to her immediately blushed.
"Would you two like to sit together?" Sookie's seatmate asked.
"No!" "Sure!" Sookie and Eric answered simultaneously.
Sookie had never seen a man move so fast and then Eric was there, again, sitting next to her. He had cut his hair, she noticed, but he still had a stubbly goatee. The stained shirt and cargo pants were gone, replaced by a nice-ish corduroy blazer, blue Oxford shirt and clean jeans.
"Wow. This is crazy," Eric said. His tone was friendly, friendlier than Sookie's.
"Yes," she replied politely.
"So you went to New York to become an anthropologist, right?"
"A journalist," Sookie corrected.
"That's what I said!" Eric grinned, "And? How's that workin' out for you?"
"It's good, I'm actually a news producer for a show," Sookie said.
"Great! Dateline? 60 Minutes?" Eric asked.
"Erm... Live with Regis and Kelly." Sookie primly informed him.
Eric nodded and made a face, trying to remember the hard hitting journalism on Regis and Kelly.
Sookie's southern charm school training kicked in. "And you? Where are you these days?"
"After I finished grad school at Columbia, I joined up with a small start-up firm. We're doing public relations."
"Public relations ..." Sookie wrinkled her nose. "In corduroy?"
Eric shook his head. "Damn, five years later and you're still hung up on what I wear." He leaned in closer to her. "Is it because you'd rather see me out of clothes?"
Sookie slapped at his arm, noting his firm bicep underneath the corduroy. "You are no gentleman!" Still a pig, she thought, he hasn't changed.
Eric was amused. "Found anyone to marry you yet?"
Sookie ran a palm down her hair, smoothing non-existent fly-aways. "As it happens, I am technically single although I am dating a very nice gentleman." She put extra emphasis on that word. "Bill Compton, of Manhattan. He's the head of the largest computer security consulting firm on the East Coast."
Still a pretentious bitch, Eric thought, she hasn't changed. "Good for you. I'm sure you two are made for each other. I'm with someone, myself."
"Ohmygod who?" Sookie asked.
"You don't have to seem so shocked, some ladies," Eric put extra emphasis on that word, "think I'm quite the catch."
"I'm happy that you have found someone important in your life." Sookie folded her hands neatly atop the leather folder. "Someone who doesn't mind your aversion to razors."
"Oh no, she likes it." Eric rubbed his stubble affectionately. "She says it feels good when I go down on her."
Sookie rolled her eyes as he knew she would. She also had the most exciting image pop up in her head of Eric's blond head between her legs.
"Yeah ..." Eric scratched under his armpit. "So, when we get to Chicago, do you want to have a drink or something?"
Sookie turned disapproving eyes upon him. "You sir, are in a relationship!"
"Sure, but you know, just as friends." Eric smiled guilelessly at her.
The little line between Sookie's eyes appeared. Eric remembered that line appearing when she threw her head back in ecstasy. His groin throbbed. "I distinctly remember you saying that men and women can't be friends."
Eric considered this. "Yeah, but there's a corollary to the rule. If both people are in a relationship, men and women can be friends. You and I are both involved with other people, therefore, we can be friends."
Sookie frowned in distaste. Eric looked openly down her body, still trim and toned, and the way the buttons on her suit jacket slightly pulled at the chest. He shook his head.
"Nope, that won't work. Even if you're involved with someone else, if you have an attractive woman as a friend, you're still going to want to fuck her. Therefore, true friendship ..."
"Is impossible," Sookie finished for him. "I remember."
"That's probably better for us, since we wouldn't want to be friends, anyway," Eric said.
"No," Sookie said firmly.
They sat quietly for a few minutes, neither knowing what to say. They each shot side-long glances at the other. Sookie tried to force the thought of those long, masculine fingers gripping the armrest out of her head. She shifted in her seat as a heat built low in her belly. Eric noticed the way her bare legs rubbed against each other as she shifted in her seat. He tried covering the growing bulge in his pants with his jacket.
"So," Eric started to speak and noticed a pink flush on her neck. "You going to marry this Bill guy?"
"He'd make an excellent husband." Sookie's eyes slid over to Eric as she answered.
Eric leaned over and spoke low in her ear. "Which would you choose: Amazing, mind-blowing, nearly anonymous sex in an airplane bathroom or having the same old, vanilla sex for the rest of your life with the head of the largest computer security firm on the east coast?"
Sookie swallowed nervously and looked around. No one was listening to them, almost everyone had their earphones in and their eyes closed. Eric took one finger and dragged it slowly, up her thigh, taking her skirt up with her.
"I've got to get something out of my purse," she whispered.
"Meet you in five minutes," Eric said softly. He rose quickly from his chair and walked toward the back of the plane.
Forty five minutes later, a flushed Sookie walked back to her seat, soon followed by a very relaxed looking Eric.
When the captain prepared for landing, Eric leaned over to Sookie again. "See you in five years?" He grinned.
She looked at his scruffy clothes, his vulgar mouth, his too familiar language and arched an eyebrow. "Not likely."
Eric tried hard to remember that this self-righteous, self-important Southern belle was the wildcat who had just enthusiastically swallowed his cock in the bathroom.
"Nope," he said, "Not likely at all."
.... Five years later ...
Sookie stopped at a neighborhood bookstore after her yoga class, her bright pink yoga mat still hanging off her shoulder. She liked to go in and see what was new in the mystery section, especially vampire mysteries. Those were always fun to read.
She was reading the back of one cover when something caught her eye. Glancing up, she saw a blond head bury itself back into a self-help book. Sookie looked back down at her novel and saw another movement out of the corner of her eye.
A tall, handsome blond man was walking toward her. He was very handsome and very rich looking. A custom-made suit fit him perfectly as he approached her with a smooth confidence.
"Sookie," he said, his blue eyes piercingly warm.
She gasped. Was it? No ... Yes, it was.
"Eric?" She asked hesitantly.
"You remembered!" He exclaimed pleasantly.
Sookie blushed, suddenly shy upon remembering who he was, and what they had done. Twice.
"What has it been ... five years?" Eric asked.
She rapidly did the math. "Yeah, it has. Wow. Time has flown."
"You look ... amazing. Not any older than when we first met," Eric said, looking her up and down. Sookie's blush deepened.
"What are you up to? You look great ... too," she finished lamely, knowing that he looked better than great.
"I'm doing well, my PR firm really exploded in the last few years. And you? Still a journalist?"
She nodded. "Sort of, I'm a booker now. Less stress, more time for yoga, hobbies." She tilted her head toward her mat.
"And the computer security guy?" Eric asked, covertly looking for a ring on Sookie's finger.
"Bill." Sookie supplied the answer. She shrugged. "More on the computers, not so much on the security." She smiled politely. "And you? You had a special someone?"
Eric mirrored her shrug. "She cheated on me with her friend, a male friend."
"Ah." Sookie said, at a loss. He didn't seem too broken hearted.
Eric looked at her closely. "You know, you don't look older, but the years have been good. You're much softer now. You don't seem like such a prissy bitch."
Sookie laughed. "I know, and you're all in a real suit and clean shaven and being polite. God, it's like, I'm not even attracted to you at all!" She exclaimed, shaking her head in surprise.
Eric looked disbelieving as well. "Yeah, me neither," he said.
"Huh," she said, still shaking her head.
"Maybe, since neither one of us is attracted to the other, we can be friends now," Eric suggested.
"Yeah," she nodded enthusiastically.
They stood in an awkward silence. Eric took in her form fitting tank top and the way her black yoga pants molded her rear. Sookie bit her lip as she imagined tying Eric up with his expensive Italian silk tie. She blushed at the memory of him putting a sock in her mouth in the minivan after he unzipped his pants. He clenched his jaw at the memory of his hands pulling her hair as she sucked him off in the airplane bathroom.
"Friends." Eric repeated flatly, his blue eyes gazing into hers.
"Mm ... mmm ..." Sookie responded incoherently.
"Are you hungry?" Eric asked.
"Ravenous," Sookie replied, licking her lips seductively.
"Katz's Deli? My treat?"
"Sounds great."
"A friend probably wouldn't want to take you to lunch and finger you under the table until the whole place hears your wild orgasmic screams." Eric's voice was gravelly, promising exactly what he said.
"Oh, no, a friend would never take advantage like that." Sookie shook her head slowly, her eyes soaking his in.
Eric caught a whiff of her lavender body lotion mixed with her natural post-yoga scent. "What about friends who fuck?" He suggested, feeling the impulse to wrap his hands around her waist and pull him to her.
Sookie raised her lashes and batted them at Eric, barely able to keep her hands from stroking the solid muscles of his chest. "Why didn't you think about this fifteen years ago?" she asked softly.
Eric winked at her. "I think I did."