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ERIC
I walk into my house to a wonderful smell. I can see Annika in her high chair, munching on a biscuit, but I don't see Sookie. But then, from around the corner I can suddenly hear her. She's singing—and man, is she horrible! But she is obviously having tons of fun and as I tiptoe around the corner, I see her shaking her hips as she cuts up vegetables for a salad. I am about to sneak up on her but Annika screeches my name and Sookie whips around to face me.
"Whoa there, killer!" I say with a laugh but I'm not a fool, I jump back.
Her eyes get big. "Oh! I'm so sorry!" she says, looking down at the big knife in her hand.
"That's okay. I should know better than to surprise someone with a knife," I say, chuckling.
She turns to put the knife down and then launches herself at me for a hug. I grab her and pick her up, holding her tight. She feels so good in my arms.
"I missed you!" she says into my chest.
"I missed you, too. Especially after you left me wanting you after that phone call. I had to take care of myself so that I could focus on anything else but my dick."
She hits me lightly. "Eric Northman, tell me you didn't do...that...at work!"
"Jerk off?" I say, which earns me another smack on the arm. "Ow! You're abusing me because you made me so hard I couldn't think straight?"
She looks suddenly stricken. "I'm sorry for hitting you. I was playing around but I won't do that anymore."
Oh, she thinks I was serious. "I was kidding, Sookie. You're not hurting me."
"No, I shouldn't hit you."
She looks so upset with herself but really, I knew she was just playing. "What did you cook?" I ask to change the subject. I go over and pick up Annika and she puts her dirty hands on my cheeks and gives me a biscuity kiss but nothing could be better, and I laugh and kiss her back. As I take her over to the sink to wash her hands, I try to see what Sookie cooked. I had planned on making her dinner but it seems she beat me to it.
"Well, you had a chicken so I roasted it along with some potatoes and then I made a salad. Is that okay?" she asks, sounding a little nervous.
"Of course! Thank you. You didn't have to cook. I would have."
"That's okay. You had a hard day," she says with a big smile and it takes me a second to understand her double entendre. Once I do, I grab her with my free arm and attack her neck with kisses and small nips. She squeals and runs away and Annika laughs. I love these girls!
After dinner and bath time, when Annika is ready for bed, Sookie asks me if I always rock her to sleep. Kind of a strange question.
"Yeah," I answer, "She likes the snuggle time and I miss her so much so it's nice for both of us, why?"
"Just something that Jessica said, the nanny I interviewed. I'll tell you about it after you put her to sleep."
"Okay."
Once Anni is asleep, I come down and sit with Sookie on the couch. She turns off the tv and scoots over to me and I pull her onto my lap for a proper kiss. I love the way she tastes and I let my tongue move against hers as my hands travel under her shirt to my best friends on her chest.
"Eric," she says, pulling back, "Let's talk first. If we start this now, you know we won't get any actually talking in."
I open my mouth to say something but she puts her fingers over my lips. "Dirty talk doesn't count," she whispers. How did she know that's what I was going to say? She must be a mind reader.
"Fine," I huff, lifting her to sit next to me. She smiles and strokes my cheek and I smile back at her.
"So tell me why you think the situation with that bitch at work is going to be fine?" she says.
"Pam. Apparently Pam had her followed or investigated or something and she found out something very interesting if not completely disturbing."
"Wow! Go Pam! I knew I was right to be scared of her when she told me she would hurt me if I hurt you," she says and then immediately clamps her hand over her mouth.
"Pam told you what?" What the fuck?
"It was a while ago! It was nothing! Please promise me you won't say anything to her. She was just looking out for you."
"Jesus! I don't need her fucking help!"
"Eric, she was just being a friend! That's what friends do, okay? Don't be mad at her! Promise me you won't say anything to her!"
I look at Sookie for a while trying to decide what to do. In the end, I can't do anything other than what Sookie asked because she is too important to me and she looks so distraught over what she let slip.
"Fine, I won't say anything. But I can take care of myself!"
"I know, honey," she says but I get the feeling she is placating me. Whatever, I'm going to drop it.
"So do you want me to tell you what Pam found out?"
"Yes! Is it good?"
"It's very bad," I say, leaning towards her as if we are girlfriends gossiping.
"Ooh, tell me!" she says with a grin.
"Well, it seems that Victoria Madden is sleeping with an eighteen-year-old boy."
She gasps. "What the fuck?" she says, which makes me laugh because she hardly ever curses so I know if she does it's something either very bad or very good.
"And that's not the worst of it," I say, pausing for dramatic flair. I kind of like gossiping. "The worst part is that the boy she is fucking is the nephew of the man whose company she's in the middle of merging with. And he hates her because she is making this merger a living hell for everybody involved!"
"Oh my god! So if he found out..."
"Exactly!"
"Oh, Eric, that's great! Well, not for the boy I guess but he's legal so there's not much anybody can do—except puke," she says with a smile. "How old is Victoria Madden?"
"I'd guess late thirties, early forties. Definitely too old to be screwing around with a boy who's still in high school!"
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SOOKIE
Wow, this Victoria Madden woman is a piece of work! She's harassing my boyfriend and screwing a teenager at the same time. What the hell?
"That's disgusting!" I say.
"Yup! So what happened with Jessica? I thought she sounded nice."
"Yeah, well, that's what I thought. She was a little too judgmental."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, when I put Annika down for her nap, she acted like it was ridiculous that she was still rocked to sleep at ten months old. She said all of the babies in her family—which was her only real experience by the way—were sleep trained by a few months old."
I can tell by the crinkle of his brow that he doesn't really understand what I'm talking about. "Sleep...trained?" he asks. "I don't know this term."
"Well, like, how did you get Annika to be such a good sleeper? Do you always rock her? Did you ever put her down awake? Lots of people sleep train their babies to sleep through the night."
"I don't understand. Annika has always just slept...it's not something I trained her to do. Surely you cannot train someone to sleep?"
"Not to sleep really I guess but to fall asleep and stay asleep on their own through the night. Lots of people do it so their kids will sleep and be well rested. You've never heard of cry it out?"
He shakes his head and stands up. I think he's getting uncomfortable.
"It's when the parent lays the baby down and let's them cry some before they fall asleep on their own. There are different ways to do it but there's usually at least some crying."
He looks bewildered, absolutely horrified and he's backing away from me as if I'm about to hurt him.
Shoot! I can tell he's close to freaking out. "Well, it's just one way of sleep training. It usually works in a few days so it's not like the baby is crying a ton every night."
"No!" he says forcefully and I shrink back involuntarily. "That's what she wanted to do to my Anni?" he croaks. "I hope you told her fucking no! That. Will never. Happen. Do you understand? If she's crying, the nanny will go to her. She will not be left alone to cry herself to sleep. No one should be left alone to cry!"
His voice is a growly whisper with a hard edge and I realize that he is not only talking about Annika but about himself as a child. By now I understand what sends him to the edge- if ever he feels weak or inadequate or is reminded of being a child, which really, is the same thing. He had no control as a child and he can't handle feeling like that again, even though he is a strong capable man. And he is so soft-hearted towards Annika—God help the person who mistreats her. His strong reaction to this conversation is because he was left crying alone as a boy and no one came to help him or make him feel better, in fact, he was made to feel foolish if he cried.
"Eric," I say softly. Walking up close to him, I put my hand on his arm. "Nobody is going to leave Annika to cry, Eric. You are her daddy and you get to decide. Okay? Are you okay?"
I can see the tightness leave his face but it is replaced by anguish and I wish the anger had stayed because it's better than this. He rubs the heels of his hands on his eyes before he suddenly strides from the room and goes in the kitchen.
I want to follow him and put my arms around him or something just to make him feel better but I don't know if I should. Do I give him his space? He walked away because he wants some time to calm down. I know he has a hard time with feelings and he doesn't like to look like he can't handle himself. It breaks my heart that he puts up all these shields so that he can maintain control in every aspect of his life. He thinks he's weak if there is something he cannot dominate. He's scared, under all the anger, he's just scared and hurt. I find myself halfway to the kitchen because no matter what he can handle, I know I can't leave him hurting without going to comfort him. He needs someone to be there for him, someone to hold him and tell him he will be okay. I don't know if he's ever had that and that thought not only breaks my heart but crumbles it into a thousand tiny pieces.
"Eric," I say quietly. His back is to me and he has a glass of water in his hand but he's not drinking it. I silently beg him to turn around and look at me. I don't want to talk to his back but I guess I have to. "Eric," I say again, "I understand why you're upset." I put my hand on his shoulder and push a little so he will know I want him to turn around. "You're not alone anymore. Can I be here for you now?" I ask gently.
He puts the glass down, turns suddenly and grabs my shoulders, crushing me to his chest. He drops his face into the crook of my neck and takes a huge shuddering breath in, circling his arms around my waist. It takes me a moment to respond to his quick movements and then I put my arms around him and just hold him tight. We stay like this, in silence, for several long moments. He does this when he needs to feel better, like rubbing a security blanket. I don't know why he likes his face here so much but I'm happy to provide him the comfort. I bring my hand up to stroke his hair until I can feel that he has his breathing more under control.
He releases me almost as quickly as he brought me in and I can tell he's about to run out of the room. He turns from me, walking quickly towards the doorway of the kitchen.
"Eric!" I say desperately, "Please!"
He stops.
"Please," I say again, more softly, "Don't run away from me."
He reaches his hand back and I walk up to him and grasp it. He walks back to the living room with me following and sits on the couch. I kneel down at his feet because I want to look at his face, which is angled down, his neck bent towards the floor.
"Tell me what you're scared of Eric, why you're so hurt," I whisper, "Let me in." He needs to talk. I just want him to talk to me.
"I'm not scared!" he says fiercely, "I'm angry! I am so fucking angry." He does sound angry, except as he says the last word, his voice falters and it comes out as a choked sob. He buries his face in his hands and exhales forcefully. His breathing becomes erratic and his chest heaves as he pants for air.
I have seen him successfully keep himself in check several times now but sometimes I think that if he would just give up his tightly held control, he would feel so much better. If he could just let go and cry, he might start to heal from all the pain in his life. When I cried about Bill, he told me that it's okay to cry when someone hurts you but I guess he doesn't believe that advice holds true for himself. And I know he is scared. Scared that he is not enough for Annika, scared that he is not the father she deserves because he can't be there to take care of her as much as he would like, scared that everything his fucking father told him is really true. I can tell this because of every refused compliment and every self-deprecating look that crosses his beautiful face. He doesn't believe my words to him because the words of his father still swirl through his mind telling him lies.
I get up and sit next to him on the couch and rub his back until I can tell he is feeling better. His chest has stopped heaving and his breathing has slowed considerably. Maybe next time he's upset, I won't be so nearby. If I leave him alone will he finally cry like he needs? I don't know if I can do that to him, even if it might help. If I tell him it's okay to cry, will he? Or will he build another wall and shrink further away?
"What are you angry about, Eric?" I ask. If he can put it into words, that's a good first step.
He looks up at me with wide shining eyes like a little boy. "I don't know," he mutters. He drops his face back into his hands and whispers again, "I don't know."
"You know your dad was wrong, don't you Eric?" I ask him as I stroke his hair and the back of his neck.
He looks at me and nods but without the conviction in his eyes that would convince me he believes what I'm saying.
"He was wrong. For treating you like he did and for the things he taught you about how to be a man."
"Sookie, don't," he says with pleading eyes. "I don't want to do this."
"Okay, I know you don't but I just want to make sure you understand that. You are a good father, you are nothing like him, you know what makes a good father."
"I said I don't want to do this!" he hisses, getting up.
I can't explain what seeing him like this does to me. It's like I have all these emotions swirling through me and I don't know what to do. I feel unbelievably angry at Eric's father for how he treated his precious child, for how he tore him down to where it still affects him so many years later. I am angry also at his mother for not protecting him like she should have. But mostly what I'm feeling is just sadness. Sadness that this beautiful, smart, successful man thinks that he is not good enough, that he has not done enough, and that he will never be enough. He is wrong. So wrong but he won't listen to me when I tell him.
He's getting better at staying to talk even when things make him angry or uncomfortable. So even though he doesn't want to talk about his father and he's angry that I didn't let it go when he told me to, he takes only three steps before he stops. He sighs and turns around and his eyes tell me of his unspoken distress.
"I'm not going to talk about your dad, honey, but come sit down with me," I say, patting the couch in invitation. "Let me tell you something."
He comes back to sit down and I turn towards him on the couch and take his hands in mine. "Eric, you are a good father," I say looking into his eyes.
"Sookie," he says, and I can tell that he is just exasperated. His jaw is tense, his eyes hard. He really hates this and would rather be anywhere else. "Stop. Just fucking stop!" he growls.
"No, I'm going to say it until you believe it." He pulls his hands from mine and starts to get up but I am not having that. I put my hand firmly on his thigh to keep him in his seat. "No, sit down," I tell him.
"Sookie..." he says with a warning in his voice. He tries to get up again but I don't care. He's going to hear what I have to say.
"Eric, sit the fuck down and listen to me!" I say in a very firm voice and he immediately sits still.
"Don't yell at me!" he pleads and the look on his face makes me feel like absolute shit.
I put my hand on his face and rub his cheek because he looks like a scared little boy right now and I'm the one who scared him. "I'm so sorry," I say softly, "I shouldn't have yelled at you but will you stay and talk to me?"
He looks at me after a second of stroking his face and he takes a deep breath and then closes his eyes. "Okay," he says.
"Thank you, but open your eyes. Let me see those beautiful blues."
He complies with a small smile, his shoulders relax and his hands, which had fisted in his anguish, unfurl.
"Do you want to know how I know you're a good father, Eric?"
He looks at his hands and exhales loudly. I will take his silence as a yes for now.
"Because your baby is the happiest baby I have ever taken care of."
"That's just how she is," he protests.
"So, she doesn't know how to cry? She is not capable of being upset? That's not true. Sure, she has an easy going personality but even the best genetic combination cannot make up for poor parenting. Trust me... Neuroscientist here, remember? You've heard nature versus nurture, right? Well, even if she got the jackpot of nature, she would still need a great nurturer to bring all those good personality traits to life. That's what you are, Eric. You are the nurturer that brings out all of Annika's joy and her sweet personality."
He is still silent but he's leaning in towards me and looking at me. I'm sure he wants to believe he's a good dad just like he wants to believe he deserves love and just general happiness but it's hard for him to dismiss everything else he believes about himself and about the cruelty of the world in general.
"Have you ever gotten mad at Annika?" I ask him.
"No."
"Have you ever left her crying because you didn't want to bother with her?"
He looks at me with a downturned mouth and furrowed brow. "No!"
"Have you ever let her go hungry?"
"God no!"
"So, tell me why, exactly, you are not a good dad. Tell me in what way you have ever left her uncared for or unloved. Can you?"
"I have a bad temper," he says with beseeching eyes that pierce my heart with their plea for understanding.
"Baby," I say gently, stroking my fingers over his brow, "you've never even been mad at Annika."
He sighs and leans into me but then stiffens. "I work too much," he whispers, "Too many other people take care of her instead of me."
"So all the other parents you work with are bad parents too?"
"No... but I'm all that she has and I'm not enough! She doesn't have a mother like she deserves, she only has me and there is so much I don't know!" The despair on his face as he says this is so heart wrenching I am tempted to forget this whole thing and just rock him in my arms so he'll feel better. But he needs to hear what I have to say. He needs to hear it until he believes it.
"And you think, what? All the other parents were given a manual and they know exactly what they're doing?"
He stares at me with tight lips and rubs the back of his neck with his palm.
"They don't, Eric. Parenting is hard and the only things you absolutely must do are try your best and love your child. You have that down. The proof is in the pudding, right? You are utterly devoted to that precious girl and she is extremely lucky that you are her daddy. Okay? So please believe me when I tell you that you are a good father. Do you believe me?"
He sits in complete stillness for over a minute, his eyes boring into mine. A myriad of emotions flickers into and out of his eyes before he nods mutely.
"Out loud, Eric."
"I believe you," he whispers and the corners of his mouth turn up just a little bit. I'm not foolish enough to think that this will solve all his problems and that from now on he will truly believe in himself, but this is at least a good first step. Maybe he will be a little less hard on himself, a little more self-assured.
I pull him into my arms and of course, his face goes to the crook of my neck. But then after a few minutes, I feel him start to kiss my neck, which he's never done before when he nuzzles me if he's upset. But it feels nice so I'm not going to stop him. His kisses continue and he moves his mouth up my neck and across my jaw. He lifts his head and I can see his eyes are dark with lust. He pulls me to straddle his lap and then attacks my mouth with his. His hands move up and down my back and my butt and he pulls me forward, onto his erection.
"Sookie," he whispers, pulling back to look into my eyes. "I want you. I need to be inside you."
The look in his eyes leaves me breathless and I can barely think but I manage to nod my head in assent.
He smiles and removes my shirt, tossing it onto the floor behind him. My bra quickly follows as does his shirt. He pulls me back against him and I revel in all his warm skin that's touching mine. He stands up easily, with me still attached to him and walks up the stairs to his bedroom.
Sex with Eric has always been excellent, the best I've had. But all of the times Eric has made love to me pale in comparison to what he shows me tonight. Primal passion, raw need, and unwavering love rule the moment. His movements are unhurried yet desperate, unrelenting yet gentle and his eyes...his eyes have never burned so bright. His fiery gaze stays steady on mine from when he enters me, through my quivering peak, all the way until his gasping, shuddering finish. And then he collapses on top of me, panting, and whispering sweet words into my ear.
I am reluctant to break this feeling but it's late and I need to go home tonight. I promised I'd help Amelia's girlfriend, Tracy, plan for her birthday party this coming weekend.
"Eric," I whisper. He has stopped murmuring to me and is now just breathing steadily against my neck. "Eric," I whisper again when he doesn't respond. When he is still just breathing, I realize that he must have fallen asleep on top of me. Well, he's half on me— one leg and most of his torso is on top of me. I carefully scoot out from under him and he doesn't even stir. I guess he's pretty tired out and dead to the world at this point.
There is something almost magical about the way a person's face changes when they sleep. As I stand watching Eric in his slumber, I am struck again by how utterly beautiful he is. His face holds no stress—there are no lines of worry above his brow, his mouth is soft and relaxed. The way his hair falls over his ear and his forehead makes him look boyish and carefree. He is tranquil, here at rest—serene and peaceful, and the contrast from his earlier heartache is stark and unsettling. This is how I wish he would look all the time. Instead of distress, he would wear contentment, instead of disquiet, he would carry calm. I just want him to be happy, that's what he deserves.
I stand looking at him for another minute before I kiss his cheek and whisper my love against his skin. I put on my underwear and pants and then I go downstairs to find the rest of my clothes. I put on my bra and shirt, which is now wrinkled from its time on the floor. Once I'm dressed, I just sit for a while, thinking back over the evening and hoping that I helped Eric at least a little bit. I think he still needs to talk about his father and he really needs a good cry but I have no idea when that will happen. With a sigh, I get up to retrieve my coat and boots so I can be on my way. Just as I am reaching for the door to leave, my phone buzzes.
"Hello?" I answer.
"Sookie?" Eric gasps, speaking over me. He sounds out of breath. "Why did you leave me?"
"You were sleeping. I thought I'd let you rest," I say. He's upset and now I feel bad for leaving him like that.
"Next time wake me up!" he pleads.
"Ok, but I'm still downstairs. Do you want me to..."
He appears on the landing before I can even finish that sentence. He's completely naked and slightly panicked. He takes the stairs three at a time which, for his long legs, is not as difficult as it would seem. He grabs me in a tight hug, not caring that he has nothing on.
"Eric!" I say, startled.
"Don't do that to me. Don't do that to me ever again!" he begs.
"Okay, baby, I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd mind. I can't stay, I have something to do and you were asleep. I'm sorry," I say, kissing his neck and up to his mouth.
He kisses me softly, holding my face between his large hands as if he's afraid I will disappear. I really did not mean to upset him so much and I feel bad that he is this affected by me leaving him sleeping.
He pulls back from the kiss panting, his eyes wild. I put my hands on his cheeks and trace his eyebrows with my thumbs and he closes his eyes, sighing. His body melts into mine and he tucks his face into my neck, just breathing.
"I'm sorry, Eric," I whisper, stroking his soft hair. "Why are you so upset?"
"I had a bad dream," he says. "And then I woke up and you were gone. I expected to see your face but you were gone."
"Tell me about it," I say, taking off my coat and boots and leading him back upstairs. We sit on his bed and I hand him his underwear while he starts to speak.
"No, it's fine," he says, but I can tell it's not fine. He is really rattled and I would love for him to tell me why.
"Eric, I know you well enough to know that it's not fine. You're shaken up. Tell me, please."
"I had a dream about my father. He was in my house. He told me that I'd never be good enough for you, that you were going to leave me. He said that I wasn't capable of loving you the way you deserve. That I was damned to be always alone." Anguish. Again.
"That's not true. You know that's not true," I say with my hand on his cheek.
"I know that. In my head I know that. But sometimes my heart forgets," he says. His poet's heart, so sensitive and fragile.
"I'll help you when you feel like that. I will be there, whispering to your heart, erasing your doubts. I love you and I will never let you go, Eric."
He gives me a breath stealing look and pulls me into his arms, holding me against his body as he scoots back on his bed. Tracy will have to wait. I need to stay for him. He tightens his hold on me and lays his cheek on the top of my head, sighing.
Tears. Mine but not his. Not yet.
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Thank you for reading. Go watch a happy movie! Lol.
oh- I know cry it out can be a controversial subject and I am in no way making a statement about it via Eric. I hope I have made it clear that each family decides for themselves how to parent. You know that "opinions expressed do not necessarily reflect the viewpoint" of the whoever? Yeah, that. :)
please review!