A/N: Sorry to be posting this a little later than I initially expected! Real life is no fun sometimes. But to make it up for you, it's the biggest chapter thus far (I know, they just seem to be getting bigger and bigger). And I'm being totally honest when I say it's my favorite chapter, directly in front of the one with Pam's narration. Hopefully you'll like it just as much. BTW thanks for all the "woo hoo" reviews from last chapter!
As always, a grande-sized Eric Northman thank you (you'll get this later on, trust) to chiisai-kitty for her grammatically correct, insightful, and side-splittingly hilarious comments that make me laugh as much as pretty much anything Lafayette's ever said on True Blood. But I did go over this a couple times, so any lingering mistakes are all mine. Damn.
These characters are not mine, although I did try to recreate one of my favorite scenes from SVM (let's be honest here, yeah, it's probably what you're thinking.) And I also threw in my favorite Generation Kill line, so give me a holler if you can point it out (this one's for you, morecks87!!)
Gran hugged both of us and walked off, leaving just me and Eric behind. Eric hoisted his bag over his shoulder and flicked his head to the parking lot, indicating that I should start walking with him. I did just that, and we walked together as inconspicuously as possible over to his car. I just hoped that everyone was too busy "woo-hoo"ing to notice the captain getting into the coach's car and driving away.
During the ride to Merlotte's Eric and I went over every detail in the game like the two big soccer nerds that we were; he described some of the crazy-ass comments that Edgington shrieked on the sidelines, and I told him what I said in my speech during the time-out for Amelia's injury.
"Really, Stackhouse? Really? You used me dancing as a motivational tool to get the girls pumped up? That's insane!"
"Hey, don't be hating! It worked, didn't it?"
He snorted and rolled his eyes. Pretty boy could protest all he wanted, but he was flattered, I could tell.
While I was fiddling with the radio stations a few moments later, Eric randomly cried out, "Shit, Sookie, you never changed after they poured water on you! You must be so uncomfortable right now! My gym bag – yeah, the infamous soccer bag has a brother – should be in the backseat, and there should be a plain black hoodie in there somewhere. And don't worry, I didn't work out in it and I removed all the sweaty gym clothes, so you should be fine"
Startled, I turned and saw that the sweatshirt was where he said it was. I didn't even think about changing out of my uniform because we usually just went to Merlotte's straight from the game. On the other hand, tonight was a little different considering that mine was soaking wet.
I was touched by Eric's thoughtfulness and how he was able to pick up on stuff about me that I didn't even notice. But would it be too much if I just took my uniform top off and just wore Eric's sweatshirt over my sports bra – in front of him?
As if reading my mind, Eric quickly said, "You know, Stackhouse, if you wanted to change in here I wouldn't look, I'd just focus on the road."
I rolled my eyes and said, "Yeah, right, Eric."
"No, I'm serious! But it's not like it's nothing I haven't seen before, right?"
Hmm…he had a point. And I was wearing my prettiest light blue sports bra. Ahh, what the hell, why not?
"Okay Northman, feast your eyes. But I'm warning you, I don't want my dead, shirtless body to be found next to yours with your car slammed into a tree!" I joked, moving the seatbelt strap behind my back but keeping the buckle fastened.
"Stackhouse, are you suggesting that my dead body will be shirtless too?" I could practically hear him smirking.
"Haha, if I wasn't in the middle of taking my shirt off I'd punch you."
Eric didn't have a snappy retort. Silence. Pure silence. Note to self: if you want to win an argument with Eric, just take your shirt off, and victory is yours. Easy as that.
After I lifted my uniform top over my head, I turned and saw that Eric was blatantly ogling me. It was rewarding to see that I affected him as much as he affected me. He didn't even look embarrassed when I caught him, he just winked and smirked. He smirked and I was the person he was staring at! And now I was getting all hot and bothered because he looked so damned sexy! I was the one with my shirt off and all I could think of was how sexy Eric looked! Only Eric would be able to do that…
I smirked and picked up the sweatshirt and muttered, "3…2…1…" as I shrugged it on.
"Noooooo!" Eric mock-wailed. He waited until I slithered back under my seatbelt strap to reach over and trace one of the three stripes that ran down my sleeve. He opened my hand up so he could hold it comfortably and said, "Well, I guess if you're going to cover yourself up with something, then I'm glad it's with something of mine."
"Wow, wanna pee on me while you're at it? Or write your name on my forehead with black Sharpie?"
"Just don't wash the sweatshirt afterwards, 'kay?"
"EEW!"
"Relax, I'm just kiddin'. I knew it'd freak you out."
"Eric, this entire night I'm going to be wearing just your sweatshirt and a sports bra and you're the only one who knows it."
"…"
"Hah, I knew it'd freak you out." I win.
By the time we pulled into Merlotte's crammed parking lot – and Eric showed off his driving skills like he had the last time we were at the restaurant by parallel parking – it already seemed like the entire town was crammed into Sam's place. And as the blaring music escaping from Merlotte's proclaimed, tonight was going to be a good, good night. Yessiree. Especially when I asked Eric if I should bring my soccer bag with me into Merlotte's and he said I should just leave it and we could figure it out when it was time to leave.
I internally squealed and grabbed his hand, pulling him near the employee entrance out back. Once we got there I tried to use my other hand to open the door, but Eric suddenly swiveled me around so that my back was up against the door and he was right in front of me, attacking my face with his mouth and bombarding me with hot kisses. Kiss after kiss after kiss after kiss…He slammed his hands up against the wall on either side of my face, and pressed himself onto me.
Maybe it was the excitement or the adrenaline or I needed to celebrate, but I kissed back just as eagerly and urgently, pulling him closer to me by wrapping my fingers around his neck and angling my face up. I flattened my body against his, and I could feel that Eric was cocked and loaded. Despite this being the first time I had ever felt something like that, it was like my body knew exactly what to do and I felt my hips desperately scrape his like he was my very own scratch ticket
He moaned, and I opened my eyes to see what was up. Eric's beautiful blues were mere inches from mine, and his eyes widened when he saw that I was watching him watch me. He was so close that it almost looked like he just had a big Cyclops eye. He winked and removed his right hand from where it was trying to make a dent into Sam's wooden wall and slowly, too slowly, ran it down the entire left side of my body – hair to face to neck to thisclose to my breast then into the curve of my stomach and back out again to my hips and then my lower back, where he pressed me even closer to him and didn't let go. My bottom half was deliciously smushed up against his, and to compensate I pressed his chest into mine and kissed even more feverishly. My eyes never left his, and it was so erotic watching how I was affecting him I briefly wondered why I had ever thought I needed to close my eyes while kissing.
A sprinkling of laughter coming from around the corner shocked me and Eric out of our trance, and before I could even react Eric's hand flew from its position next to my head and onto the door handle. Using the hand still wrapped around my back he moved me over so I wasn't blocking the door and pushed us both inside. He made sure the door was locked so whoever had interrupted us wouldn't follow. Now it was just me, Eric, and the sound of us trying to catch our breath.
"Wowza," I gasped. Between the nerves and the stress and the game and the make out session, I was one tired Sookie.
Eric grinned and hoarsely said, "I don't know what wowza means, but okay."
I smiled, but then I noticed that Eric was still hard. "Um…Eric…what about that?"
Eric didn't need to see where my hand gestured to know what I was talking about. "I don't want to risk doing anything here…got a freezer?" I laughed, amazed that he was able to make a joke out of this situation.
"Yeah, we are at a restaurant, you know. It's right over there," I said, surprised that when I had jokingly started moving towards it, Eric had seriously followed me.
"Um, okay, here it is..." I murmured as I opened the door. Eric brushed past me and walked right in. To the uninformed bystander it looked like he was simply fascinated by the number of frozen all-beef hamburger patties in the freezer, but he was concentrating on something else. I waited outside to give him some space, because I didn't know what else to do. Soon he was all good and exited the room with his hands stuffed in his pockets.
"Does that ever get annoying?" I blurted, and Eric stopped walking and burst out laughing.
"Sometimes, like now, yeah…but the reasons why it happens kind of makes it worth it," Eric answered thoughtfully after a moment. He threw an arm around my shoulder and drew me closer to him in a half-hug, kissing the top of my head. "Stackhouse, you're so weird sometimes. I love it."
After a few stolen kisses I forced him to go back outside and enter the building through the regular front entrance so it wouldn't look too suspicious. After he left, I rushed to the bathroom and – yep, just like I thought, my ponytail looked like a bright yellow yield sign from being pinned against the wall. Totally worth it though.
I shrugged and put my hair in a bun, and allowed myself one brief crazy-happy-Sookie smile in the mirror before going into the restaurant.
Everyone cheered when I walked through the door, and I immediately spotted Tara and the rest of the girls crammed into our table by the jukebox. I ran over and hugged everyone, even though I had just done the same exact thing about twenty minutes ago, because we were all so happy. Tara scooted over so I would have some room, and we chatted for about five minutes before I spotted Eric at the bar nursing a beer and talking animatedly with Chow. While I was staring Eric looked over in my direction and did a double-take, smiling widely when he noticed that I was there. He said something to Chow and Chow walked away.
I excused myself and started walking towards Eric, but I only took about three steps before Sam came over and scooped me up in a big hug, even lifting me up from the ground for a bit. He kissed me on the forehead and whispered into my hair, "I'm sorry I couldn't be there, cher, but I am so, so happy for you."
I squeezed him and whispered back, "Don't worry about it, Sam. You worry about everything else for me. And besides, there will be lots of other games and Merlotte's after parties. Count on it."
He smiled before reaching back to the table behind him and surprising me with the biggest Sookie sandwich I had ever seen. I threw my arms up around his neck, careful not to jostle the packed plate, and exclaimed, "Wow, thanks, that's so sweet of you. I don't know how you always know how I played or if the team won, but just keep doing what you're doing because it makes me happy."
"It makes me happy too, cher," Sam replied before stealing a French fry off my plate.
"Hey now, that's not making me happy!" I joked, and Sam laughed and excused himself to work on all of the people waiting for a drink.
I smiled – Sam was such a nice guy, always looking out for me and making sure I was okay. He was a great boss, and an even better friend. I made my way over to Eric, who simply watched me walk towards him.
"Wanna split my Sookie sandwich with me? Sam just made it," I said, taking a seat next to Eric and sliding my plate over.
"Did he? Isn't he nice," Eric replied, making "nice" sound like a word you'd use to describe a murderer or a rapist.
I sighed. Eric was going to play that game? Right now, after everything we've been through tonight? "It was just a hug, Eric. Nothing more. I mean, it's just Sam – I've known him forever! He's my boss!"
"Am I 'Just Eric?'" Eric said coldly, still refusing to look at me.
"No, you're MY Eric. Hell, you're THE Eric." He didn't move, still didn't look.
"Look, I don't know why you're choosing to get all pissy on what should be one of the best nights for you, but I want you to stop it right now, mister! You should be celebrating, not crapping on our night. I did nothing wrong, and the only thing I regret is hitting the post on one of my shots during the game! So yeah, I hugged Sam, but I made out with you and I kissed you and I'm sitting here with you, right where I want to be! Plus, I hugged a lot of people tonight, Eric! I hugged Sam and my Gran and Sheriff Dearborn and Maxine Fortenberry and Father O'Malley and practically everyone in this whole damn town with arms – Sam was just one of them! You're the only one I kissed and wanted to impress and just plain old be around! Why can't you see that? Why are you being like this? I've given you no reason to think I'd do something like that, because I won't do something like that," I muttered as angrily as possible into his ear.
After a few moments he turned and finally looked at me, regret colored all over his face. "Shit, you're right, Sookie. I'm sorry I was being an ass and jumped to conclusions. It's just that before you came over Sam was talking about how long he's known you and all of the traditions you guys have and everything he knows about you, and it just made me angry and jealous that your boss knows more about you than I do, that he has more pictures and stories of you than I do. I certainly like being told that and then have to see him kissing and hugging you thirty seconds later. But in my defense, what boss kisses and hugs his employee?"
"Eric, that is so not the point I was trying to make."
He sighed and buried his face in his hands for a couple seconds before coming up for air. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry I took it out on you, Sookie. And you're right, you've done nothing wrong and you haven't given me reason to think that you would have."
I reached under the table and held his hand, making sure I moved closer to him so no one would be able to see. "Thank you. And if you think about it, you've only known me for five days and we haven't been able to have a lot of real time together. We'll have our own pictures and stories soon enough. Plus, isn't that what first dates are for? Getting to know the other person?"
He smiled a little and squeezed my hand before murmuring, "Once again, you're right. And once again, I'm sorry for the way I acted. I'm so lucky to have such an understanding girl." He released me and reached over to grab a sandwich half, took a bite, swallowed, and laughed, "Yep, still awesomely bad."
"Uh, I think you meant 'awesomely awesome' but don't worry, I got what you said," I giggled before taking a bite. As I was doing that my eyes flicked over to the doorway and I spit out my food onto the table in reaction to what I saw.
Eric glanced toward me hurriedly and joked, "See, awesomely bad…but seriously, Sookie, you okay?"
I wasn't able to move or talk or think; all I could do was stare at the person who was slowly walking towards me. It was like watching a car crash; you knew it was awful and should look away, but you couldn't help staring at it.
"Sookie! Sookie! Are you choking? Listen, Sookie, look at me, do you need me to do the Heimlich maneuver? 'Cause I can! Sookie – answer me, damnit!"
"Bill," I gasped.
Eric moved towards me and gripped my shoulders, "Bill? What? I'm Eric, Sookie. Eric."
"I do believe she was referring to me," Bill said darkly, stopping directly in front of me. Eric whipped his head around and his expression quickly morphed from concerned to furious as he tried to burn holes in Bill's face with his eyes. Bill was standing calmly, like he was an old buddy of mine who just happened to walk into Merlotte's instead of being my ex-soccer coach who suddenly left the team without an apology or explanation after four years of being my coach. His hair was darker than I remembered, and I was glad to see that it looked like he had bangs, like a twelve-year-old girl. He was wearing khakis and a tan jacket and an evil smirk.
Of course Bill would decide to grace us with his presence after our huge victory tonight, when we were all excited and happy after our win and our new coach and our new team. How dare he! How dare he leave and think he can come back, like we were just a gas station and he could just stop by whenever he wanted or needed something! How dare he come to Merlotte's – Merlotte's – where he knew our big celebration would occur, and just stroll in like he was wanted there! Forget what the fuck – what a fuck!
Eric quickly stood up so that he was towering, literally towering, over Bill, who just looked a dorky pipsqueak when compared with Eric's height and muscles and now-ferocious beauty. Eric moved closer and placed an arm around my shoulder to show that he was my coach now, that Bill was gone and replaced and didn't have the right to waltz back into our lives as soon as we moved on.
In a menacingly deeper voice, Eric growled, "Bill Compton. I've heard all about you, you know. And before you ask, nothing good. Nothing good at all. Nevertheless, I've been looking forward to meeting you. You see, I've always wondered what it'd be like to gaze into the eyes of someone so devoid of human compassion and intelligence that he would abandon his team when they needed him the most. And now that I can put a face to the bastard, I must say I'm disappointed."
A hush swept over the restaurant, and the bar laughter and chitchat vaporized. Even the jukebox was silent. I looked around and everyone was staring at us: Sam had stopped wiping a glass behind the bar and was now glaring at Bill, Maxine Fortenberry was gaping with her fork still halfway to her mouth, and the team was walking over to where I was sitting and Eric and Bill were standing. If this was a cowboy movie instead of my life and we were in a dusty saloon instead of a dusty bar and grille, right now would have been the time where the crazy "wah nah nah now" sound would play as the good-guy sheriff and the bad-guy train robber squared off.
Bill opened his mouth to respond, but I cut in before any words could come out. I didn't want to hear his excuses. I was past that stage now, and I just wanted to be rid of him. And nothing he could say to me would change my mind.
"Bill Compton, who the fuck do you think you are? You are dead to me. You are dead to me and this team and this town and this restaurant. Your presence is neither wanted nor required, both in this restaurant and in my life, so just leave. Get. Out. Now," I hissed, surprised at my reaction to seeing him. I didn't think, I just said, and boy did it feel good.
Bill looked like I slapped him, and that made me wish I actually had slapped him just so I could see what he'd look like then. I heard Eric chuckle softly, and I could feel the comforting sensation of his thumb drawing small circles on my shoulder. I felt another hand snake around my hips, and looked to my left and saw Amelia standing next to me, with the rest of the team forming a circle around us.
"Nope, hold up a sec before you do. You're not the only one who wants to say something to the famous Mr. Compton, Sooks. We've been waiting for this for a long time," Tara snapped, getting right into Bill's personal bubble and pointing a finger in his face. "I'm only going to say this once, guy, 'cause this is the last time I'm ever going to see you, so you better pay attention. If I called you every cuss word that I know – and you can bet your gay little safari outfit that I know quite a lot – that wouldn't be enough to show just how much of an ugly monster you are behind your 'awh, shucks, ma'am, you sure do have the best lemonade, golly gee' fucking Southern gentleman fucking façade. I don't know why you decided to leave and I really don't give a fuck, even if President Obama called you on your stupid cell phone that you can't even text on and said it was a matter of national security that you leave Bon Temps."
Someone let out a low, appreciative whistle, and Tara stepped back and smirked, putting her hands on her hips in a defiant pose.
"You're lower than a snake's belly, Bill Compton, and I'm disgusted that I once respected you," Amelia piped in. I placed an arm around her shoulder and squeezed hard. Other girls murmured their approval.
Bill cleared his throat and started loudly, "I just came here to congratulate y'all on your big win, but I must say that I didn't think I'd have to stop by Merlotte's tonight because I didn't think there'd be a celebration, given your history with Shreveport and this new guy's penchant for getting his ass kicked, or should I say knee kicked, by Edgington. I actually came here to say –"
"Just save it, Bill. No one wants to hear your excuses. And no one wants you here. Hell, I'm not even on the team and I still don't want you here. Get out of my bar, and if you need any help with that, my fists and I would be more than happy to accompany you out the door," Sam threatened; somehow during Tara and Amelia's burns he had walked over to where we were. And even though he was separated from us by the bar top, he still looked like he could hurt Bill.
"As would I," Eric said, releasing my shoulder and taking a step forward. For Bill, even one step was a step too many, and he unconsciously stepped backwards. "You are a fool for willingly leaving this fantastic, hardworking team and the supportive community that it represents. You can spout all the pretty words you know or think you know, but I'm going to be cliché for a moment here and say that actions speak louder than words. After all, you didn't have to drive here and watch the team that you're no longer the coach of. You didn't have to come to Merlotte's for the after party that you knew you weren't invited to – no, you did not. And the girls didn't take a road trip and visit you in whatever hell-hole you moved to, now did they? And I didn't look your number up and call you for coaching tips, now did I? And Sam didn't e-mail you to see if you needed any nachos or buffalo wings, now did he? No. And why is that? Because you're not wanted here. You're not needed here. So tell me, Billy boy, what the fuck are you still doing here?"
As Eric was verbally kicking Bill's ass, he had slowly been taking baby steps, but very menacing baby steps mind you, towards Bill, and like before Bill was wisely moving backwards. With a sweeping glare and a muttered "I don't need this," Bill huffed and turned and walked out the door. The second he was gone, the whole restaurant exploded in cheers and cat calls, and people came up and started buying Eric drinks and the rest of us sodas and lemonades.
"That just happened. Hells yeah, that just happened!" Tara shouted.
"That was pretty fucking ninja," Eric added, high-fiving all of us.
For a good ten minutes afterwards, we all took up major bar real estate and talked about what, as Tara so eloquently described, "just happened." As time went on, the girls started drifting away, one by one, like whisper-thin dandelion seeds in the wind, and soon it was just me and Eric.
"Okay then, I'm gonna go socialize so people don't think I'm dating you or something," I joked after a particularly long conversation with Eric about what The Jersey Shore would be like if it actually took place in Bon Temps. We had both agreed that Ginger would probably be Snookie, and I said that Quinn, whom Eric had heard of but hadn't actually met, would totally be The Situation. Eric had almost hacked up a lung laughing when I went on a little tirade fuming that Snookie was making it difficult for me to like my own nickname.
"Ah, yes, wouldn't want that to happen, now would we?" Eric answered just as smoothly. "I'll come find you when I want to show off my sweet dance moves."
"Please do so I can fetch Sam's video camera," I replied, moving to get out of my seat.
Just then, I was hugged from behind, and I could smell the odd combination of tequila, limes and my brother's cologne. I stopped and Jason let go to throw an arm around my shoulder and turn me around to face the eating area He yelled, "Listen up people, let's give it up for Sookie! Yeah!"
The whole bar erupted in cheers and claps, and Jason beamed down on me. Poor Jason; he was way more than a little tipsy and probably thought he was being the best big brother of all time, but I would have appreciated it more if he chose to get all brotherly at a time when I wasn't flirting with my secret boyfriend.
"All right, y'all, quiet down a sec, c'mon now, I've got something I wanna say," Jason continued. After the crowd hushed up, he said, "Now, I just wanted to make everyone know just how proud I am of my Sooks, I've known and loved her forever and that's why I know she really deserved everything she got tonight. So congrats, Sookie! Congrats, Sookie's teammates! And congrats, Jose Cuervo, for having the best goddamn tequila in the entire tequila-drinkin' free world! WOOOOOHIE!"
As everyone laughed and cheered, Jason bent down and sloppily gave me a kiss on the cheek before squeezing my shoulders and fumbling over to his sometime fuck buddy Crystal Norris, who was gazing up at him all starry-eyed like he just finished wrapping up his Oscar acceptance speech. Ah, young love.
After Jason's impromptu address, a crowd of friends and neighbors came up to congratulate me and chat a bit. Although I laughed and talked and hugged, I always kept an eye on Eric, who had drifted over to the other side of the bar and was now shaking a lot of hands and making small talk. During a quiet spell, Eric walked over and loudly asked if, since I worked here, I could show him where the bathroom was. I agreed, and together we walked back to the bathrooms.
"So do you see where I'm coming from? You seem to be in the habit of having random guys come up and kiss you. I mean, you should be in a perfume commercial or something, because AXE has nothing on you," Eric joked.
"Eric, that was just my big brother Jason. You'll have to meet him sometime when he isn't acting like a contestant on Rock of Love."
"Yeah, I know, I recognized him from the pictures in your house."
"Oh, so that's why you didn't go all caveman and hit him over the head with your club."
"Precisely," Eric said as we finally made it to bathrooms. He turned and grinned at me before walking into the men's room. Oh – he really did have to go to the bathroom. I though he just wanted some 1 v. 1 time with me.
Before the door even closed all of the way Eric pushed it open again and extended a hand out for me. He made a "come hither" motion with his fingers, and when he didn't feel me hold his hand he peeked out and said, "Well, come on!"
"Eric, it's the men's room!"
"Fine, we can just go in the women's room."
"No, I meant, it's the men's room! Like, it's not the employee entrance or the freezer, it's somewhere where anyone – well, okay, any man – can walk in on us!"
Eric pouted and mock-whined, "God, Stackhouse, all I wanted to do was have someone talk to me while I went to the bathroom! I get so lonely in there!"
I tried my hardest not to snicker, but with a line like that it was inevitable. "Just go in there and return the beer you rented this evening. I'll be right here, I promise."
Eric laughed and closed the door. About twenty seconds later Andy Bellefleur walked into the men's bathroom after giving me a suspicious look. Eric exited soon afterwards looking very sheepish.
"Stackhouse: 1. Northman: 0," he muttered.
"And don't you forget it!" I replied, not really knowing what else to say without saying "I told you so."
"Hey, speaking of not forgetting, your soccer bag is in my car."
"Yup."
"And I drove you here tonight."
"Thank you for that."
"You're welcome. But more importantly, you don't have a ride home…if you wanted to go home, that is."
"Well, usually I sleep over at someone's house, like Amelia's, but…" I trailed off. We both knew what was going to happen, and we both wanted it to happen, but neither one of us wanted to make the first move.
"But what?"
"Oh, fine, I'll cave. Eric, I would like it very much if my soccer bag remained in your car for the rest of tonight…and tomorrow morning."
"God, Sookie, I thought you'd never ask."
"Well, technically I didn't." HAH – I still win because I didn't come out and say it. Nah nah nah nah nah nah.
"Whatever, it works for me. I would love to take you home with me."
We smiled and started walking back to the bar.
"Wait a sec, didn't you say that you were sleeping on Pam's couch? And that you were crashing in her apartment?" I asked. If Pam was going to be there, that'd be a little awkward.
"Yeah, up until two days ago I was. A condo went up for sale in a development across the street from Pam's, and I'm the new tenet. I moved all of my stuff there yesterday and took out my furniture from storage, so there's fresh food in the fridge and clean sheets on the bed and there's even a balcony."
"I can't wait to see it," I said, "but first, I believe you owe the team a dance."
"Oh, do I?" Eric joked, poking me in the ribs. "I didn't sign up for that. YOU were the one who volunteered my dancing skills. So I believe you owe me a dance."
"Deal."
"Great. Now, I'll go back in the bar, so count to like a hundred or something before coming out, okay?"
I nodded, and Eric bent down and kissed me on the cheek before walking through the door. By the time I walked in, he already had half the team pushing some tables and chairs to the side of the room for maximum dancing space, and the other half picking out songs on the jukebox. He must not have been thinking clearly when he assigned Amelia to the song-choosing committee; I shook my head thinking of all of the sexually charged songs Amelia was going to pick.
The opening beats of "Sandstorm," the techno dance anthem that was a guaranteed staple at our dance parties, made themselves known over the bar chitchat and, miraculously, the combination of about twenty hyper teenage girls screaming excitedly. We all flocked to the makeshift dance floor and began dancing and pogo-ing. Everyone except for Eric, who had moved over to the bar and was standing next to Chow with his back mostly to us, like he didn't want to get caught. I half-expected him to pull out a newspaper and shove it over his face while whistling.
I nudged Amelia, which was a pretty hard feat to do considering she apparently thought that octopuses were terrific dancers and was currently flailing her arms in the air, and nodded over in Eric's direction.
"Oh, hell no!" Amelia screeched, and she began poking other girls and nodding towards Eric. Once everyone figured out that Eric wasn't on the makeshift dance floor, we stopped moving for a few seconds – and that just shows how badly everyone wanted Eric to dance with us –to decide what to do next.
"I vote for Sookie to talk to him, she's probably his favorite person after the goal she made tonight," Tara shouted. Sure, of course that's why…
The rest of the team agreed, so I forced my way through the mosh pit and twirled my way over to where Eric was.
"C'mon, Northman, man up!" I cried as soon as I reached him.
"Stackhouse, I think that's the opposite of what I have to do if you want me to dance," he grumbled. I responded by grabbing his hand and pulling him over to the dance floor, and when I turned around to make sure he was actually going to follow through with his promise I saw that Chow was coming over as well. I guess Eric talked him into doing it, and although I wouldn't be as excited to see Chow moving his hips as some other girls, I was glad he was coming too.
Eric kind of stayed towards the outside of the mosh pit, and I could tell he felt a little awkward because he was a twenty-something soccer coach dancing with his teenage girl players. After some more songs came on – "What is Love?" and "You Spin Me Round (Like A Record Player)" – that weren't overtly sexual or explicit, he loosened up. Amelia actually did a decent job playing DJ, and everyone was dancing and having a good time. During "Love Is A Battlefield," I actually had to stop and stand still for a moment because I was laughing so hard; when I did my signature Molly Ringwald-Breakfast Club dance, Eric goofily copied my moves when he thought no one was looking. It was, without a doubt, the funniest thing I've ever had the fortune of seeing. I wished I actually had grabbed Sam's video camera.
I was getting pretty tired, so I took a break and went over to the bar for a glass of water. Since most people were either dancing or watching the dancers, Sam came around the bar and stood next to me as we people-watched. He commented on how friendly Eric seemed to be with the team, and he had shot me a look when he said that, but other than that we just talked about small things.
Then "Party in the USA" came on, and a lot of people came laughing off the dance floor, so Sam had to get back to work. Eric was one of the wise folks that evacuated the area, and he cocked his head towards the bathrooms and strolled back there.
I waited about thirty seconds, and then I excused myself from the group of girls I was talking with and also walked to the bathrooms. Or, at least I tried to until someone reached out and pulled me into the deserted employee room.
The lights were off and I couldn't see anyone, but I was about 98% sure that Eric was the mastermind behind all of this. Or else Jason was really drunk and mistook me for one of his bimbo blonde fuck buddies.
All of a sudden I sensed a presence in front of me, and as I opened my mouth to ask who was there I was silenced by the feel of two very familiar lips on mine. I blindly reached out to where I thought I remembered Eric's longish hair being, and was relieved when I felt some strands. After that, I hungrily returned the kiss, biting and nipping. I remembered the last time I was in this room with Eric, and how innocently we had behaved compared to what we were doing now.
I needed to catch my breath, so I ended the kiss and snuggled up against Eric's strong chest. "Jason," I breathed dreamily, and I felt the muscles in Eric's wall tense. Biting back a laugh, I kissed the spot where his neck connected to his shoulder and whispered, "Just kidding…Sam." Then I kissed my way up Eric's neck and when I reached his mouth I murmured, "Kiss me, Eric."
And kiss me he did.
After a while, he pulled back and whispered, "That was fantastic, cher." I froze – shit, had I really miscalculated the length of Sam's hair? Did I just make out with my boss? A loud snort confirmed that it was in fact Eric, but at this point I was so confused I had to make sure it was him. I fumbled and groped for the light switch that I knew was someone near me, to the left of the door. Once I found it, I eagerly flicked it on and whipped my head around – Eric had his hands on his hips and looked so smug it should have been illegal.
"Wanna get outta here?" I asked. As much as it was fun celebrating, I was kinda over it.
"Sure," Eric agreed, "You go out and say your goodbyes, and I'll leave now through the employee exit. I'll be waiting in the car."
One long kiss later, I watched Eric and his exquisite behind glide out the back door and then walked into the bar. I said my goodbyes and did some hugging, and then waved to Sam as I left through the front entrance. I looked around the parking lot and didn't see anyone, so I jogged to Eric's car and got in.
"You're okay to drive, right?" I asked nervously.
"Stackhouse, I'm 6'4" and weigh about 180 pounds. And I really didn't drink that much tonight, just three beers and we were there for three hours. But it was good of you to check anyways," Eric said, reaching over to hold my hand. "I like that you're so responsible."
"Good, 'cause no offense, you drive like a drunk driver even when you're sober – I mean, right now you're going like seventy miles per hour!!"
"Yeah, I know, I drive slower when you're in the car," Eric chuckled, but after I shot him a look he lowered it down to sixty, which was fine with me.
For the rest of the drive, we sat in comfortable silence; even though it was only about 10 o'clock, I was really tired, but I didn't want to fall asleep on Eric and miss the rest of the night.
Nevertheless I did doze off. I opened my eyes to find Eric leaning over my car door, peering down on me with a small smile on his face. He looked like he was going to scoop my formerly sleeping body up and carry me.
"Hey you," he whispered.
"Hey," I whispered back, "where are we?"
"We're at my apartment. You've been out for like fifteen minutes."
"Sorry."
"Don't be. Anyways, can you walk or do you want a lift in?"
"I can walk," I answered, and he offered a hand, which I accepted as gracefully as someone who just woke up could.
I rubbed my eyes and looked at Eric's apartment building. I would have thought it was a fancy hotel, with its large glass windows and smooth brick exterior. It was tall, like a city building, and it had beautiful landscaping, with lots of trees and flowers and impeccably cut grass. If I had to pick a condo to live in, I'd probably choose one that looked a lot like Eric's.
"Do you need your soccer bag?" Eric said, interrupting me from my thoughts. He had moved to the back of the car to pop the trunk and was now holding my bag up.
"Um…yeah, probably," I said, walking over and reaching out to grab it. It had my phone in it, and that'd be useful to have with me. Eric pulled the bag away from me and put it on his back.
"I've got it. You just focus on not falling asleep while walking," he replied cheerfully. He closed the trunk and motioned for us to start walking towards the building. It even had a lobby in it, like a real hotel, and it was furnished just as nicely. Eric walked over to the elevator, and I followed; he pressed the top floor button and we rode up the elevator.
Instead of opening up to reveal a carpet-lined hallway, the first thing I saw when the doors moved aside was that we were in what looked like someone's apartment. Eric walked into it and placed my bag on the ground and his keys on the small table positioned right next to the elevator for that purpose.
"Chez Northman," he said, opening his arms up wide.
"More like Castle Northman. This is…this is amazing!"
"I know, thank Tandkräm."
"Thank what? Is that Swedish for 'God?'"
He laughed, "It's this Swedish toothpaste company that I've had a modeling contract with since I was eighteen."
"Oh. Thank Tandkräm!" I laughed as well, even though I really wanted to hit my head on the pristine cream-colored wall.
"I'm glad you like it. But like I said, I just moved in, so it's not completely finished. You'll have to excuse the mess."
I made a noncommittal noise and continued to gape at the apartment.
"You know what, Stackhouse?"
"What?"
"You never gave me a dance," Eric said with a smirk and a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. I tore my eyes away from Eric's kitchen and stared at him.
Gulp. We weren't at a dance club or even a place with a dance floor; we were just at Eric's apartment. What, did he want me to jump up on his dining room table and start shake-shake-shaking my booty or do a little strip-tease?
Seeing my thunderstruck face, Eric chuckled and picked up his iPod from the table and held an ear bud out for me. I accepted it and plugged it in, still not knowing what Eric was going to do next. Did he expect me to dance all around his apartment like I was in my very own iPod commercial?
He popped the other speaker in his ear, and, after a few brief seconds of anticipation-filled silence, "Wild Horses" began playing. Eric carefully tucked the iPod in his jeans pocket, and gently placed one hand over my lower back, drawing me closer to him so that he could take my left hand with his. Not knowing what to do with my Eric-free hand, I placed it on his shoulder.
Graceless lady, you know how I am
You know I can't let you slide through my hands
Wild horses couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses, couldn't drag me away
"Now you're dancing," Eric murmured. But it didn't feel like that to me; Eric was leading us around his apartment, making the first move and having me follow. I felt like I was just snuggling with him standing up, and it was delicious. I laid my cheek on his chest and he tucked my head under his chin, the ends of his hair tickling my forehead. I inhaled and smelled everything I knew about Eric, briefly closing my eyes like that would help me hold on to this memory forever.
I know I dreamed you a sin and a lie
I have my freedom, but I don't have much time
Faith has been broken, tears must be cried
Let's do some living after love dies
Wild horses couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them some day
"So this is the living room," Eric whispered into my hair, and I popped my eyes open. Like everything else in his apartment, it was pretty sparse – no photographs on the cream-colored wall, no rugs on the floor. He had a brown leather couch and two brown leather armchairs placed facing the widescreen TV hanging on the wall, and underneath it there were two cardboard boxes labeled "DVDs." The walls of both sides of the room were protected by tall wooden bookshelves, and there were more boxes with "Books" and "Music" scrawled on the sides.
He waltzed me over to the kitchen, then to the study, then to the bathroom, his bedroom, and ended up on the balcony. From what I could see underneath the soft hat that was Eric's chin, each room was the same, equipped with the bare necessities but teeming with cardboard boxes. Even so, the apartment was beautiful, with spacious rooms and shining tiled or wooden floors. The parts of it that were furnished, however, looked masculine and decidedly Eric-like.
The song ended, and Eric had to let go of me to reach down for the iPod. "Any requests?"
I shook my head. "You choose."
"I'll just let it play the rest of the Stones out," he said, putting the iPod away. Just then, the familiar opening of "Let's Spend the Night Together" flooded into my ears, and I looked at Eric and laughed.
"Subtle," I said, and Eric sheepishly smiled before protesting, "IPod shuffle – I swear! Although you have to admit, it sure is a strange coincidence."
"Surrre," I retorted, turning my head up to look at the moon and stars shining in the sky. Eric followed my gaze and threw his head back to see what I was looking at.
"Back in Sweden, during the winter, it's dark all of the time, for most of the day and all of the night. The only natural light is provided by the moon and the stars. I used to go outside, not even caring about the freezing temperature, and just look up at the sky and think about how many other people must have seen the same thing I was looking at," Eric offered.
"It's comforting yet alarming at the same time, isn't it? They look so small to us, but just looking at them makes us feel so small," I responded, leaning my back against Eric's chest. He slipped his hands around my waist and folded his hands across my stomach. I felt him kiss my shoulder and I shivered.
"Are you cold?" Eric murmured, kissing my goose bumps.
"It's fine, really. You're keeping me warm," I murmured back, not wanting to move from my spot.
"Don't be silly. We can go back in and warm up. There are blankets and Pam brought over an espresso maker as a housewarming gift and – oh shit, we haven't showered since the game."
Despite my protests, Eric led me back inside to the kitchen. The aforementioned espresso machine was still in its box and was sitting on the counter, and Eric couldn't seem to figure out how to get it working – "The buttons are too damn small! It's like they expect children to be making coffee!"
I laughed at the sight of this Viking-esque man struggling to turn on a coffee maker, and he narrowed his eyes at me. Clearly he couldn't find the humor in the situation like I could.
"Listen, why don't you take a shower and I'll get the coffee ready, okay? Sam has an espresso maker just like this one, so I'm sure I'll get it working. Go on now," I said, gently pushing him in the direction of where I thought the bathroom was (I was a little distracted during Eric's creative house tour, sue me).
"Are you sure? I mean, you're the one who actually played soccer tonight," he said.
"I'm sure. Hurry up though." After I said that he bent down and gave me a searing kiss that was deliciously long, hot, and slow.
"That should keep you warm," he murmured, pulling away and running a finger over my lips before walking to the bathroom. "Feel free to look around, go wherever you want. Me casa es tu casa and all that."
As I stood dumbfounded in the kitchen, wondering what I had done in my past life to deserve such a nice guy, I heard the water of Eric's shower start running. Oh boy. Eric was naked and I was in his apartment. Now I was definitely frozen in place.
I shook my head and forced myself to pay attention to the diagrams and small typed font of the instruction manual. After a few minutes a light flicked on the machine and the smell of coffee shook me out my reverie. While I waited, I took out my cell phone from my soccer bag and left Gran a voicemail saying that I was sleeping over at Amelia's house and that I didn't know when I'd be home but I had my cell with me. As soon as I hung up the espresso machine beeped and I poured myself a small amount in one of the two mugs that Eric had thoughtfully taken out before he showered. I took a sip of espresso to test it…and then another…and then another…
Explorer Sookie came out to play, and I wandered over to the living room, figuring I'd just watch some television while I waited. Some mindless game show came on, and I tried to pay attention to it but couldn't keep my mind off of Eric in the shower. Soon the water stopped. I threw my head back and yawned, even stretching my arms over my head. My yawn became a yelp as I saw, out of the corner of my eye, Eric walking down the hallway, clad only in a white towel. He didn't notice, thankfully, and disappeared into his bedroom.
Now that I knew he was out of the bathroom, I snuck in there to pee, something I had wanted to do since I drank all that espresso and drinks from before at Merlotte's. Once I was done, I opened the door and halted mid-stride.
From my vantage point in the doorway I could see into Eric's bedroom. He had left the door open and was currently standing with his back to me, his towel off. He was pulling on a pair of jeans, and he hadn't bothered with underwear or a shirt. I unconsciously took a couple steps forward, drawn to Eric's perfection like an art collector to a particularly fascinating painting.
"Sookie, are you all right?"
I popped open my eyes and saw myself face-to-chest with Eric, his pencil eraser-like nipples begging me to reach out and touch them. He was standing in front of me, and he put his warm, large hands on my shoulders to steady me. I looked up into his eyes, which were trained on me and apparently filled with nothing but concern and confusion.
"Sorry," I whispered, "I didn't mean to intrude…I was just leaving the bathroom. You know what, I think I'll take my shower now."
He nodded and let go. I took a couple steps back and shut the door in his face and rested my forehead on the hard wood. How stupider could I have looked right then?
I furiously shucked off my clothes and threw them on the floor, not caring where they ended up. I stormed into the shower and turned the water on, choosing to forgo the more traditional cold water for a steamy shower.
I heard the door open softly and I ignored it, figuring it was just Eric giving me some clothes and a towel, necessary items I had carelessly forgotten in my haste to remove myself from that embarrassingly awkward situation.
"I'd like to do that," Eric murmured, pulling back the curtain to step in the shower with me.
I gasped, just short of a shriek. He had discarded the jeans and was standing in front of me, as naked as I was. My eyes hungrily scanned his body, stopping at the one part of him I had become acquainted with but never officially met. I didn't exactly have anything to compare it with, but I could tell he was huge.
"Is this okay? Am I going too fast?" Eric asked, one foot in the shower. He looked at me, waiting for my approval.
I nodded my head, unable to speak. I was embarrassed and terrified, and yet I wanted this despite everything I did and did not know about sex. He took another step in, taking the lemon verbena body wash out of my hands as he did so. He lathered his own and set the container back in his niche. I stared as he began to wash my arms, raising each in turn to stroke my armpit without touching my breasts like I desperately wanted to. I was too enveloped in the senses he was evoking to worry about any lingering odor or armpit air. This was Eric, my Eric, after all.
"You are beautiful," he murmured, moving one hand in a circular motion over my stomach. "Turn around, lover."
He massaged my back and shoulders, kneading the tension and anxiousness out of my system. His fingers were very long and talented, and I soon had the most relaxed and cleanest set of shoulder blades in all of Louisiana.
But my shoulder blades were probably the only body part of mine that was relaxed. My brain kept thinking at warp-speed, like I was taking a timed test and was trying to think of the answers. Was I really going to through with this? Have sex with Eric? No matter how much I wanted it, I was terrified. What if I embarrassed myself? What if I didn't make it enjoyable? I had no idea what to do. I had no idea how to act. I had no idea what I was supposed to look like – I didn't even know if I did enough landscaping down there! This was like getting my driver's permit and finding out I was given a brand-new Ferrari to practice on.
As worried as I was, I didn't want Eric to stop touching me and get out of the shower. I burned under his fingertips. I didn't want him to ever stop doing what he was doing. He was all I could think about. I wanted my mind to switch off and my body to take over.
That happened when I felt a very large part of Eric pressed against my back. Last time I checked, he wasn't standing that close to me. Yikes. Yahoo. Yum.
He shampooed my hair next. "Are you frightened because of me?" he asked, stopping to disentangle his hands and take a step back from me. I shuddered at the loss of feeling him.
I considered that. Yes and no, really, but I didn't want to stand here and debate the pros and cons with him when we could be doing other stuff. Besides, the inner debate was hard enough. Yeah, I knew that if I did what I wanted to do I'd be going against my Gran's morals by having premarital sex. I knew that if I did what I wanted to do, I didn't have birth control pills, but surely Eric had condoms, if my brother had taught me anything about what guys are like.
Thinking about Jason and Gran right now was too much. But to hell with thinking, I wanted to be feeling. And I definitely wanted to be feeling Eric.
I grabbed the body wash and lathered my hands up like Eric had. I turned around and stepped even closer to him. Awkwardly folding Mr. Happy up against Eric's stomach, I reached around and touched that award-winning butt like I had wanted to ever since I first saw it. I couldn't look at him in the face, but he let me know he was enjoying this and enjoyed that I was responding to him.
He spread his legs obligingly and I washed him, trying to mimic his motions as he had washed me. I had liked that enough, and I hoped he would too. He began to make little noises, to rock forward. Thinking that he was subtly asking me to move on, I slid my fingers to his chest and began washing him, doing to him what I had wished I could have been doing all of the other times I had seen him without a shirt on. I traced the outlines of his muscles and sucked his right nipple, surprising both of us. He liked that a lot, I noted, because after that he traced his hands over any part of me that he could find and started making more little noises.
After a while he decided to reciprocate, and he bent down. When his mouth closed over my breast, I moaned even louder. I felt his fingers dance down my stomach, literally going into no-man's land. He knew exactly where and what to touch. He had long fingers. I moaned again and bucked my hips without realizing it. He was touching me in ways I didn't know I could be touched, ways I never even thought about doing to myself. I wanted more. I wanted more than his long fingers.
Once he finished and I was able to think somewhat clearly again after coming down from my very first orgasm, the water was off and he was softly rubbing me with a fluffy white towel. I spied one on the nearby sink and started drying him off too. After we finished he picked me up and I wrapped my legs around him. He walked me into his bedroom, seeing with his hands because he was too busy kissing my face off, and gently placed me down on the bed.
He disappeared then for a second, and I whimpered. I heard the crinkling of foil to my right and I followed the sound; Eric had torn off a condom wrapper and was putting it on. Once he was finished, he came back over and kissed me, his hands roaming my body like they had in the shower. I could feel him pressing into my thigh.
I hesitatingly reached down and stroked. He hissed in my mouth. I quickly dropped my hand, thinking I had did something wrong, and he arranged himself at my wet center, rubbing the tip of him with my nub as he did so. He slid his fingers down again, and I impatiently wondered if he was going to do that again when I wanted something bigger – much bigger – inside me. It still felt fantastic, what he was doing.
I was so on fire for him that I thought I was going to burst into flames. I wanted him, and I wanted him now. He had stopped moving, wanting to make sure I was okay with this. I nodded, and he warned, "This might hurt at first."
"You'll make it better though, right?" I questioned, rubbing my hands up and down his sides.
He kissed his way up to my face. "Yes, yes I will, lover."
"Show me," I whispered.
"My lover," he said hoarsely, and pressed in. It was the sexiest thing he could have said to me; I thought I would orgasm just at the sound of it.
A slight pain overcame me for a couple seconds, and though I thought I had prepared myself I cried out with the shock of it. Eric grunted. But after a few moments it was like he said, and he made it all better. With the stuff he was doing and the way it was making me feel, I soon forgot all about the initial throbbing.
"Is it good for you, lover?" Eric asked in that same ragged voice. I nodded, too frenzied to form complete sentences.
"Open your eyes," he commanded, and I did. "Look at me."
"God, Eric, don't stop," I cried out. He increased his pace. I felt some pressure building down below me. It felt like what I had felt in the shower, but only more delicious and intense. It kept rising and rising, and based on what I'd read in the romance books I thought I was reaching my Moment. "Eric, Eric, OH MY GOD ERIC."
My thoughts were confirmed a few seconds later. I was floating on the most powerful wave of pleasure I had ever experienced. My hands curled around the sheets and I felt like I was floating and needed to stay grounded. I did notice that Eric roared my name as I felt him release. He closed his eyes and collapsed on top of me, panting on my breasts. After a couple minutes he peered down, his forehead now resting against mine. I raised my mouth and kissed him, trying to put everything I had just experienced into my kiss.
"You were superb, lover," he whispered.
"Really?" I asked. I wasn't digging for a compliment – I literally had no idea if what I did was right.
"Really really," he chuckled. He got up and threw the used condom in the trash, and then came back to bed. We lay facing each other, with our heads propped up with our hands.
"If I had known sex with you was that good, I wouldn't have let you go in the shower all alone," I murmured, wanting to reciprocate his compliments. He laughed heartily and bent down for another kiss.
We kissed some more and then talked a little bit. For whatever reason, I remembered the espresso I had made. I told Eric, and he feigned shock before chuckling and kissing my forehead.
"I think we found our own way to warm up, don't you?" Eric muttered.
I leaned over and traced his jaw line, loving the contrast between the softness of his body and the scruffiness of his face. "I'd take you over espresso any day."
"Extra grande cup of Northman made especially for Sookie Stackhouse coming up," he whispered as he kissed his way down my face. I laughed at the imagery his statement evoked.
"With lots of whipped cream," I added, reminded of when he visited me at work and how I had thanked him.
"Yes, lots and lots of whipped cream."
We whispered and complimented, and the last lucid thing I had before I went to sleep was that I had scored in more ways than one that evening.
Ahh? I have one thing to say: review! Please and Thank You.
Also, check out my newest story, Dead To My World. It's about what would happen if Hallow cursed Eric so that he lost his memory and ended up meeting Sookie while running down Hummingbird Road…but she had never met him or Bill or any other vampire before? (It takes place a year after the Great Revelation, not two years like in SVM). I'm already excited about all the possibilities.
So please check it out, readers!!!!