I keep forgetting to comment on this, but Eric and Sookie are both in their late twenties. Eric is a financial planner, and since I'm not totally sure if we ever write it out, Sookie is a successful freelance writer, which is why she can work whenever she wants and isn't constrained by typical working hours.


Chapter 10 - First Impressions

EPOV

For the fifth time in the last two hours my phone rang, and Sookie's face was flashing on the display. Her nerves were adorable, even if it wasn't at all necessary for her to be nervous. My mother was going to love her. In fact, Mom already thought it was cute that she kept calling.

"Is that her again?" Mom asked, and I nodded.

"She just doesn't want you to hate her," I explained.

"Oh nonsense," she waved it off.

"I tried telling her that," I chuckled and answered the phone. "Hello."

"Hi," she said.

"What's up?" I asked her.

"Does your mom like chocolate?" she asked.

"Yes, she does," I smiled.

"Does she have any allergies? I want to bring her a piece of this cake, but I don't want it to kill her."

"No allergies," I said and smiled at Mom, who was shaking her head with amusement.

"Okay good," she said. "I hope she likes the cake. What if she doesn't like it? Nevermind, it's chocolate, she'll like it.'

"Obviously, Sookie, if she doesn't like the cake I'll have no choice but to break up with you and pretend like we never dated," I teased her.

"That's not funny."

"Lighten up, sweetheart. She's going to love you," I insisted.

"You're right, I'm sorry. I'm just nervous."

"I know, but you're thinking too much. Just take a few deep breaths, okay?"

"Okay," she said, and I heard her take one. "I'll see you soon, sweetie."

"We'll be here," I promised, and hung up after she did.

"Jesus, Eric, what did you tell her to make her so nervous?" Mom laughed when I set the phone down.

"Nothing but good things, I swear!" I said in my own defense. "I think it's just really important to her because she knows that you're important to me. Her parents died when she was young, so I won't have to go through this on her side. But I think it makes it that much more nerve wracking for her."

"That's understandable," Mom nodded. "So what did she call about this time?"

"She wanted to know if you like chocolate since she baked a cake," I told her.

"She bakes?" she asked and I nodded. "Does she cook?"

"Mmm... not well, but she makes up for it in other ways," I grinned.

Mom rolled her eyes and said, "You have no idea how much you look like your father right now."

We continued to joke around and get caught up a little bit while we waited for Sookie to arrive. Mom had gotten into town the night before. Originally she had planned to bring Pam along since I hadn't seen her since Christmas, but Pam decided at the last minute that she would rather go down to her friend's beach house than come to Chicago. Apparently it wasn't glamorous enough for her, or something like that. I'd just have to wait a few more months to see her face to face.

There was a knock at the door and I let Mom get it since I figured that might be the easiest way to break the ice. I stood in the background while Mom flung the door open and greeted Sookie with her usual warm smile, or at least I assume she did.

"You must be Sookie!" Mom said.

"Oh my goodness, there you are," Sookie smiled back, and dropped the bag she was holding to wrap my mom in a hug.

"It's nice to finally meet you," Mom hugged her back.

"Ditto," she said. "You look just like Eric."

"I did forget to shave today," Mom joked, and release Sookie from the hug.

"I see where he gets his sense of humor from too," Sookie laughed, and picked up the bag she'd dropped.

"What's in the bag?" Mom asked, stepping out of the way to let Sookie inside, and then closing the door.

"I brought you a piece of chocolate cake," Sookie told her. "I also brought some for Eric since he loves it so much."

"That was very sweet of you," Mom smiled, and then turned toward me. "Why don't I take that into the kitchen and give you two a moment?"

"Thanks Mom," I said, and after giving Sookie a pat on the back, Mom went to the kitchen with the bag.

"Oh my goodness, Eric, she's so beautiful," Sookie whispered to me. "You didn't tell me she was that beautiful in person."

"It didn't occur to me, I guess. To me she's just Mom," I shrugged, and pulled Sookie into a hug. "Feel better now?"

"Yeah," she said, and hugged me back. "That wasn't as scary as I thought it would be."

"I told you there was nothing to worry about. Pam is the one that'll give you the third degree," I warned, and kissed the top of her head.

"Now I'm going to be worse meeting her," she laughed. "But your mom is so nice."

"Don't worry, I can corral Pam," I promised her. "And you're lucky Mom didn't decide to mess with you and tell you she hates chocolate."

"Would she do that?"

"Not today, apparently," I laughed, and Sookie looked horrified.

"Quit trying to scare me," she said, and lightly slapped my arm.

"The good thing is that she'd have a good sense of humor about it if you got her back," I told her and then bent to give her a proper kiss.

Sookie giggled when the kiss ended and said, "Well hello there, Mr. Northman."

I quirked an eyebrow and asked, "Did you drink half a bottle of wine before coming over?"

"No! I had one glass, and I'm not even feeling it. I just didn't realize how nervous I was until you kissed me."

"Don't stress yourself too much over it," I rubbed her shoulders. "And we better get in there before Mom starts offering us condoms."

"Would she really do that?"

"Wanna find out the hard way? No pun intended, of course," I snickered, and then aimed her toward the kitchen.

"Let's not go through that particular embarrassment," she said, and we walked into the kitchen together.

"This cake looks delicious," Mom said as we entered the room.

"It's a Texas sheet cake," Sookie told her. "There's sour cream in the cake batter which makes it really moist. I can't stand dry cake."

"Oh no. Dry cake is awful," Mom agreed.

"Then I think you'll enjoy this one. The first time I made it, Eric ate half the sheet in just a couple of hours."

"Eric!" Mom shook her head at me.

"Don't worry, Mom, I ate all my vegetables at supper first," I smirked, and went to the fridge to get Sookie a drink even though she hadn't asked for one. "And speaking of supper, that stuffed bacon wrapped chicken I told you about is in the oven as we speak."

"Oh bless you," Sookie smiled. "I've been so nervous I haven't eaten anything substantial all day."

"Seriously, Eric, what did you tell this poor girl to make her so nervous?" Mom shook her head at me.

"He told me all good things, I promise," Sookie said. "The nervousness is all me. I've never met someone's parents before, and I just don't know how to handle that since I don't have mine anymore."

"I'm sorry to hear that, by the way," Mom said sympathetically. "Do you mind my asking how old you were when they passed?"

"Sixteen," she said. "And thank you. It was hard, but I know they loved me and my brother."

"That's good," Mom smiled. "So where are you from? Eric never mentioned that."

"Louisiana," she smiled. "I'm a southern belle. Well, at least I was raised one. I came up here for college and never left."

"Do you miss Louisiana?"

"I miss some things about it. I grew up in a very small town, and off in the country. Sometimes I miss the quiet. I was also only about an hour from New Orleans. But I love the city, and being here got me to meet Eric," she smiled at me.

"Maybe we should take a trip down there sometime," I suggested. "I've never been to New Orleans before, and it would be nice if you got to visit your friends and family back home."

"I'd like that."

"The last time I was in New Orleans Eric didn't like the beignets very much," Mom snickered.

Sookie's jaw dropped and she looked at me like I had two heads. "You didn't like beignets?"

"I was pregnant," Mom explained. "And no, he didn't. But then again I'm sure I'm not the first person to puke in the middle of that cafe."

"I'm sure you weren't," I laughed.

Sookie laughed. "We'll have to see how that turns out with out of the womb Eric."

"Bring a sick bag just in case," Mom winked at her and I rolled my eyes.

"I think it'll be fine, Mom."

"In my experience sick bags come in more handy for some of the cajun places down there," Sookie said.

"Are they that bad?" Mom asked, and pulled out a chair at the kitchen table to take a seat.

"Some of them. You have to find the good ones."

"Then it's a good thing I'd be going with a guide," I said, and pushed myself up to sit on the counter, which got me a dirty look from Mom.

"Were you born in a barn? Get down off the counter," she narrowed her eyes at me.

"Mom, I'm almost thirty. I sit on the counter all the time and the world hasn't stopped turning yet."

Sookie just shook her head and went to join Mom at the table.

"Oh don't pretend like you don't sit on the counter too," I stared at Sookie. Traitor.

"Not when I have company."

"Then I guess your manners are better than mine," I shrugged.

Thankfully the oven timer went off, signifying that the chicken was done cooking, and I went to take it out of the oven to let it rest.

"That smells like heaven," Sookie said when the scent wafted over to her. "My stomach is growling. I'm so happy one of us can cook."

"There are garlic roasted potatoes crisping up in there still, and I've got fresh green beans steaming on the stove," I told her.

"Why is it that women don't do the proposing again?" Sookie joked.

"Because of some stupid male mindset that a woman who does the proposing must be desperate," Mom volunteered.

"That is sadly very true," Sookie sighed.

"I wouldn't think it was desperate, assuming it was a long-term relationship," I offered.

"So you're saying if I propose in five minutes, I'm desperate, but if I wait a year or so, it's all good?" Sookie asked.

"Okay, maybe committed is a better term," I corrected. "If you did, I wouldn't think you were desperate, to answer your question."

"Good answer," she laughed.

"Have you been married before, Sookie?" Mom asked.

"No, ma'am," she said.

"What about kids?" she asked, and Sookie startled a bit at that question.

"No," she said. "No kids yet."

"Do you want them?"

"Mom," I said and shook my head, unsure of whether or not Sookie would want to get into this.

"It's okay," Sookie said, but she still looked sad. "Yes, I want kids someday. I always have."

"Hey Mom, would you mind setting the table?" I asked, hoping to distract her from going down that road.

"Not at all," she said, and got up to get plates down from their spot in the cabinet.

Sookie mouthed 'Thank you' at me, and then stood up too. "Is there anything I can help with?"

"You can get fresh drinks for everyone if you want," I suggested.

"Sure."

Sookie got the drinks. Mom set the table. Chatter continued while I got the rest of dinner together, and in no time everything was ready. I brought the platters over to the table one by one, and I swear I saw Sookie drool a little when I put the chicken down.

"Since when did I start dating Martha Stewart?" she asked.

"Eric's always been a good cook," Mom volunteered. "And it helps that his step-father is a professional chef."

"Is that so? You never told me that."

"Must have slipped my mind," I shrugged, and served myself some of the potatoes.

"You were trying to make me think it was all you, huh?" she chuckled.

"It is all me," I argued. "He taught me some technical stuff, but it's not like he's hidden in the kitchen somewhere right now, acting as an invisible sous chef."

"I'm sorry," Sookie said. "I guess cooking and baking are a lot like each other in that they can be a lot about intuition."

"Are you a cook, Sookie?" Mom asked even though I'd already been over that with her earlier.

"Not a good one," she admitted. "I can bake like nobody's business, but I'm not that great at the cooking."

"Me either," Mom admitted. "That's why I married a chef."

"Smart thinking."

"That and he does a great Rodney Dangerfield impression," I volunteered.

"It's very popular in the kitchen," Mom added.

"I'll bet it is," Sookie laughed.

"The gem is the sous chef that sounds like Eddie Murphy," Mom rolled her eyes. "And that's just the way he talks normally."

"Can I work there?" Sookie asked. "That sounds like the best kitchen ever."

"Oh do you work in the restaurant business? Eric never told me what it is you do," Mom said as she took one of the chicken breasts from the platter.

"I'm a writer, actually. Journalist to be exact, but I like to write short stories sometimes."

"Oh! Are you in newspaper, magazines, blogging..."

"I want to break into the blogging thing, but for now I mostly do freelance work for magazines and a couple online newspapers."

"Do you write a regular column?"

"Not yet. I write a lot about social issues, and if I break into blogging I'd like to do something Chicago-related."

"That sounds like a great idea," Mom smiled at her.

"I'll have to let you know if it works out," Sookie smiled back.

"That would be great," Mom nodded and then looked at me. "Eric, this chicken is amazing."

"Thank you," I smiled at her.

Sookie finally took a bite of hers, and moaned, which was slightly awkward for me with my mom there.

"Will you make this for me every day for forever?" she asked.

"You'd get sick of it around day 437," I told her.

"I was hoping that wouldn't happen until day 672," she deadpanned.

"Just wait until he makes Thanksgiving dinner. You won't be able to move for a week," Mom warned.

"Now I'm looking forward to that," she smiled. "What do you guys do for Thanksgiving?"

"Usually Dad comes up to visit," I told her. "With Pam still in school flying out here for two days isn't really all that convenient, especially since Mom is a Black Friday shopper."

"Don't knock it 'til you try it," Mom chimed in.

"There is no way I'm freezing my ass off in a Best Buy parking lot at three in the morning just to find out that the one thing I wanted to buy is already sold out," I said. "Besides, I plan to be in a turkey induced coma until at least noon."

"Sorry, Mrs. Northman, I'm a turkey coma person too."

"What about you, Sookie? Do you go back to Louisiana for the holiday?" Mom asked.

"For the last few years I've just stayed home and ordered pizza," she said.

"That's... that's unacceptable," Mom said, but she wasn't judging.

"I'm sure it'll be different this year, Mom," I said.

"Just don't let your father talk you into deep frying another turkey. I'm sure Sookie doesn't want to spend Thanksgiving in a burn unit."

"People did nothing but deep fried turkey in the south," Sookie said. "The men considered it their job."

"Yes, but Eric's father is like a twelve-year-old trapped in an almost sixty-year-old man's body," Mom pointed out.

"And he's not the redneck he thinks he is," I snorted. "I don't know where he got that idea from."

"Deep fried turkey is actually really good. You just have to make sure it's totally thawed before you fry it."

"Oh I know," I said. "I've done it before, but I let Dad do it one year when he insisted he knew how and it didn't end well."

"Was there a hospital visit?" Sookie asked.

"Burn unit," Mom repeated.

"Oh no."

"Not for me," I said. "But Dad ended up with some pretty nasty burns on his hands and leg."

"Oil burns are so awful too," she said.

"Yeah he was in the hospital for a couple of days with that one," I shook my head. "From now on, his job is to keep an eye on the football game and nothing else."

"That's likely for the best," Sookie smiled. "I'm looking forward to meeting him."

"Oh he'll love you," Mom laughed. "Beware of him trying to get you to run off with him, though."

"So he's one of those dads, got it," she nodded.

"I'll do my best to keep him away from you," I promised.

"I'm in no danger of running off with your father, I promise," she smiled.

"Oh I know," I smiled at her.

"As long as you know."

We finished the rest of our meal and Mom offered to clean up to give Sookie and me a few minutes together without her hanging around, but instead Sookie and I cleaned up while Mom went to go call Pam before it got too late. We ended up taking a walk around the neighborhood for a while to make room for dessert, and then came back to the apartment for cake. It was fucking delicious, and Mom insisted that Sookie write down the recipe for her before she left for the night.

I had offered Mom the spare bedroom in my apartment but she opted to get a hotel room instead, insisting that she didn't want to infringe on my personal space too much. Before she left for the night we made plans to have brunch together, and she insisted Sookie come along.

"I think she liked me," Sookie said after she left.

"I told you so," I said shamelessly after locking the door.

"You cannot make fun of me for being so nervous," she said. "And she liked my cake!"

"She loved your cake," I smiled at her and leaned against the door.

"I'm so happy that went well."

"Me too," I said, and pushed off from the door. "You know you don't have to come to brunch if you don't want to."

"Why wouldn't I want to?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I'm just saying that if you don't want to you don't have to."

"Do you not want me to?"

"I didn't say that," I sighed.

"Am I reading too much into it?"

"Yeah, you are."

"Sorry," she frowned.

"It's okay," I said. "And if I didn't want you to meet my mother I wouldn't have even bothered mentioning she was coming into town."

"I know."

I went over and gave her a hug before I asked, "So what would you like to do now?"

She looked up at me and smiled.

"Did I tell you that I'm now in the clear?"

"The clear?" I asked and her eyes widened like I should know better. I thought for a moment and it dawned on me. "Oh! Is that right?"

"Yes it is. So now it's up to you."

"Why don't we just see where things go?" I suggested.

"Whatever you want, sweetie," she said.

"Well you make yourself comfortable, and I'm going to the bathroom," I kissed the top of her head, and then went to the bathroom that was off of the kitchen.

I came out a few minutes later and found Sookie stretched out on the couch, flipping through TV channels. I sat down and put her feet up on my lap.

"Anything good on?" I asked her.

"Not really," she said, and handed me the remote. "You can pick."

"Oh that's dangerous since there's a baseball game on right now," I smirked, knowing she generally found sports to be boring.

"If you put it on baseball I will either fall asleep, or distract you sexually."

I laughed and asked, "Do I get to pick which one?"

"That's dangerous for you, sir."

"Why's that?"

"If you choose the sex, you'll miss the game, and if you choose that I fall asleep, I'll be offended."

"If I choose the sex there are always highlights later," I smirked. "And if I choose that you fall asleep, I can always find a creative way to wake you up."

"But I'll likely just go home if you should choose that I sleep."

"Then I think it's safe to say that I'd rule out the sleep option," I told her, but turned on the game anyway.

"Does this mean I need to start distracting you?"

"If you want," I shrugged. "Or I could teach you something about the game."

"But I don't want... okay, teach me something about the game."

"What do you know about it?" I asked her since I had no idea what she knew.

"I want to know whatever you want to tell me," she said. "All I know is that you hit the ball and run around the bases."

"Then I guess I should start with the basics," I said, and proceeded to explain the sport to her.

Compared to other sports baseball wasn't really all that complicated. Getting into specific terms like earned run averages and batting percentages would just put her to sleep. The more interesting part was explaining the strike zone and then watching her disagree with a call that an umpire made on a ball that was a little low and definitely painting the outside corner.

"Yeah that was definitely a ball," I agreed. "Unfortunately they're not allowed to argue the calls."

"They can in Tennis," she said. "Tennis is a great sport."

"Yeah, but if they were allowed to argue every call that was made the games would never end," I pointed out.

"Yeah yeah," she sighed. "This still seems a little boring."

"It'd be a very different game if the wind was blowing out today. On those days it's like a home run derby," I told her. "But the wind is a huge factor in this city and today it's blowing in."

"Now that is kind of interesting."

"It is," I nodded. "The direction of the wind can completely alter the way a game is played. The outfield shifts in different direction, or goes further out to the warning track because of the higher probability of home runs. It's interesting."

"Do you ever go to the games?"

"I haven't had much time for that this season. Between work and you, my time has been pretty filled," I told her.

"I'm sorry," she pouted. "Maybe you could take me with you."

"If you think you'd want to go," I said.

"I should take an active interest in your interests."

I smiled and said, "Well, if nothing else you could sit in the bleachers and sun yourself while the regulars heckle the opposing team's outfielders."

"I wouldn't dare distract from the game by sunning myself," she smiled.

"Well I wouldn't recommend topless sunbathing," I snickered. "But if we sit in the bleachers on a hot day you're going to want to be wearing as little as possible. It's not unusual to see girls out there in bikini tops."

"I'll go, Eric. It doesn't seem that bad. Who knows, I might become a fan."

"Crazier things have happened," I agreed. "Hell, maybe you and Amelia will finally be friends again and we can go with her and Rasul."

She frowned, and didn't say anything.

"Still mad at her?" I asked.

"I never was! She just refuses to talk to me, and it sucks, and it hurts, and I don't know what to do."

"I'm sorry," I said sympathetically, and wrapped my arm around her when she leaned against me.

"I wish I could just forget about it, but I can't. She's my best friend."

"I know," I kissed her head. "Hopefully she'll get over whatever it is that's been bothering her and you can work things out."

"Yeah..."

We were quiet for a while after that. I kept my eyes on the game and when it was over, the usual victory song started since the game ended with a win. The fans on TV were all singing and dancing along, as was the post-game ritual, and white flags with big, blue Ws were being flown all over the stadium.

Sookie had been quiet for a while so I looked down to see if she was still awake. Her eyes were closed but I didn't think she was sleeping.

"You awake?" I asked her.

"Barely," she whispered.

"Then let's go to bed," I suggested, and turned off the TV. "Are you walking or do you want a ride?"

"I'll always take a ride from you," she smiled with sleepy eyes.

I got up and then bent to scoop her up off the couch. I took her back to my bedroom and set her down on the bed, and then went back to the living room to turn off the lights. When I got back to my bedroom Sookie was sitting at the edge of my bed, rubbing her eyes.

"Are we sleeping naked tonight?" she asked me.

"Up to you," I said, and headed for the bathroom.

"If we sleep naked, then we're banging in the morning," she called out to me.

"We probably would anyway," I called back and loaded my toothbrush with toothpaste. "But if we sleep naked there's always the chance I'll wake you up in the middle of the night."

"Naked sleep it is then," she said, and I heard her clothes start hitting the floor.


Thanks for reading!