I own Anya. Nothing else. Props to all my reviewers: I have no words. And to all that read: feel free to comment. Don't be scared.

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"So, do you come here often?"

Turning, I fiddled with the toothpicked olive of my drink as I faced my questioner. Or rather, random guy who just came up to the bar to talk to me. Hm... he was cute, I thought as I acessed his longish black hair and piercing brown eyes, very hot. Still no Eric though... Gah, why did I think that?

Yup, that was right; I had abandoned my perch on the Viking's throne to take residence at the Chow-attended bar. I'd even ordered a drink. Okay, so maybe I had asked Chow for a good ole dose of H20, but I'd requested it to be disguised in a martini glass complete with olive. I felt very sophisticated. Chow just looked amused at the time.

"You do know that's the oldest pick-up line known to man, right?" I smiled, taking a sip of my 'martini.' Internally grimacing, I choked down the burning liquid; what did that olive do to my water?.! Regardless, I kept sipping since I was so thirsty. Eric needed to remember that humans need nutrients. Maybe I should enroll him in a health class or something.

The stranger/hot guy chuckled back, "Well, it's bound to work then. So, I repeat in a less-confrontational manner, you come here often?"

"Mmm," I sipped a little more of my fiery drink, absently noting that it couldn't just be the olive tainting it, "No, this really isn't my 'scene.'" I used air quotes to elaborate my point. "I'm just here for a..." Pausing, I wondered what to call Eskimo in human terms that would be simplest, "...friend."

"Ah," he smirked, looking very sexy by brushing back his hair, "So it's one of those nights. But, just for the record, it does look like your scene." His dark gaze raked over my body as he said this, taking in my tight corset and short shorts courtesy of Pam.

I am so gonna kill her. Maybe with an unfashionable sweatshirt, just to make it worse.

Yeah, that's a plan.

But then again...if Eric could mess around tonight, so could I.

I scoffed good-naturedly while batting my eyelashes a bit. I could so do this flirting speel. A little this, a little that, and bam! Flirtalicious.

"Seriously," he insisted, mouth quirking at the edges, "You look sexy tonight." He hesitated for a second, scratching his neck, "My name's Trey, by the way."

"Anya," I nodded back, trying to hide a smile. He was adorable.

And so the night flew by, full of me and Trey flirting away. I soon learned that his full name was Trey Monroe Masters, his deepest desire was to become a neurologist one day and to own a Harley, he wanted to go to med school someday, his dog's name was Poof the Poodle, he avoided his parents every Thanksgiving by saying he had the flu, and that his favorite color was radioactive orange.

All the while, I flirted and flirted, and he flirted and flirted back, while I continually sipped my specially arranged drink that Chow kept supplying replacements for. I think I was about up to four at the end of the night.

"-And then he said that he didn't ask for a quesidilla, he said he wanted a tortilla!" Trey completed his joke, laughing all the while. I completely cracked up, leaning right against him now, trying not to snort.

My entire side vibrated with laughter against his as we chuckled at the hilarious joke. We had had a ball the whole night. It had been awesome.

And then Trey realized the connotations of the past hour.

"Hey," his hand brushed down the length of my arm, gently trailing it, "You wanna get out of here?"

"Whaaat?" I grinned up at him, absolutely intoxicated. I think I'd realized a while back that Chow kept giving me vodka instead of water, but I'd been too distracted to care.

Silly me, silly vodka, silly Chow. The whole world should drink.

He put his mouth to my ear, his black hair brushing against me. "My place?" he whispered, so close that I could feel his lips.

I looked up at him with wide eyes, whispering dramatically back to him, feeling ultimately silly, "And whaat would we do there?"

He smirked widely, so sillyly, and then suddenly there was a flash, and he was on his back being pinned down by the throat by furious Eric.

Oh.

"Yes, and what would you do there?," Eskimo hissed, clutching Trey's throat even tighter, causing Trey to turn a light shade of blue.

"Eskimo! Nooo!" I whisper-screamed, giggling to myself at the rhyme, "Trey's a good-guy!"

"First name basis, huh," Eric leaned down to the choking boy, whispering in his ear, "You got far, didn't you?" His voice turned sinister in a second, almost if he were ready to bite, "Let me tell you this, human, I do not appreciate my posessions being toyed with." He paused for a moment to drop his fangs with an heart-stopping glare on his face, "And she's mine."

"Dude," Trey coughed out, "Didn't-know-."

"You better not have," Eskimo bared his teeth, while simeltaneously letting my buddy go, raising him to his feet in a second, "Now, get out of my bar before I tear you apart."' Trey continued to gasp for air, stifling for a breath.

"Now," the Viking growled menacingly, and Trey nodded like the speed of lightning, and scrammed like his life depended on it. Well...it kinda did.

"Eskimooo," I whined, twirling in a circle, "Why'dd you send Trey away? He was fun."

Turning to me with anger in his eyes, Eric faced me. "You're trashed," he said, giving me a once-over, his voice harsh, "Office. Now."

"No," I pouted, my lip sticking out petulantly, "You can't make me."

Eyes rolling, he snatched me up, and flew me to his office, slamming the door behind him. He stood with his back to me for a few seconds, before turning again.

He wore a red and black silk robe, with his black pants underneath. Seems like I interrupted him.

"What the hell," he snarled, towering over me, "do you think you were doing?"

My lip quivered. "Having fun," I responded, muttering almost.

"Really?" he spat out sarcastically, "Does getting smashed and flirting with a complete stranger make your list of 'having fun?'"

"He was nice," I defended Trey ardently, lowering my voice, "Besides...I didn't have anyone else to talk to."

Eric refused to feel the guilt, "You could've talked to Chow."

"Chow's the one who gave me the martini's!" I glared balefully at his desk, "I just wanted some waater."

Taking a deep sigh, Eric muttered Swedish curses under his breath. I think I heard Chow's name a few times.

"Chow," I mused absently, "Rhymes with kung-pow. And sow. And cow." I turned to the blond giant in front of me, forgetting my anger with him, "Do you think Chow's secretly a cow?"

The Viking stared at me unblinkingly until he realized I was serious.

"Time for bed," he murmured, throwing me over his shoulder.

"Hey!" I pounded his back, "Lemme down!"

A second later, we were in what I presumed to be Eric's bedroom. Very dark, no windows, black and red color scheme going on, big bed. You get the picture.

He lightly tossed me onto the gigantic bed, resulting in me laying spread-eagle in the center.

"Oooh, silky," I stroked his sheets distractedly; I just couldn't focus no matter how hard I tried, "Do you get silkworms to make it for you?"

Not even bothering to answer, he stripped off his fancy robe and boots, leaving his hand to toy with the zipper of his pants.

"Ahhh!" I once again whisper-screamed, hiding my face behind my hands in fright, "Not the zipper!"

Smirkingly, he released the item in question and held his hands up innocently, narrowing his eyes at my attire.

"You need to change," he muttered, raising an eyebrow, glancing about his room for an answer.

"No zippers," I whispered, peeking through my hands, "No zippers."

Searching through his closet, he found a big, black tee-shirt that he tossed to me lazily, "Here, change."

I held up the shirt, scrambled off the bed, and stood in front of his full-length mirror, matching the shirt to my body.

"I guess it'll fit," I squinted, "It's just really black."

Wanting to start the process of getting into my pj's, I tried to take off my top, only to remember it was a corset. Corsets equal laces in the back, which equal a second person needed.

"Help me?" I queried, looking over my shoulder at Eric, silently pointing to my corset.

With darkened eyes, he soundlessly strode over and trailed his fingers down my back to reach the strings. I sighed, it felt good. His fingers nimbly undid the laces, though he took his time, ending the process when he ultimately reached the skin of my lower back. Reluctantly, he backed away and went to lounge in his bed, watching me.

I pulled the piece of clothing over my head, not even minding my near half-nakedness, and promptly put his tee-shirt over, taking off my shorts from underneath. My heels had already come off eons ago.

I daintily took off the feather necklace and placed it on his dresser, while untying my hair to let it fall down over my shoulders.

"Ready," I smiled, and I skipped over to climb clumsily into his mountain of a bed, slipping under the covers and snuggling into him. He felt a little cool, but that was okay. I was hot enough to keep us both warm.

Biting my lip, I giggled to myself at that one. I'm so good.

"You really are drunk, aren't you?" he thought outloud, his fingers brushing a bit of hair out of my face, his expression curious.

"Drunk as a skunk!" I chimed; I'd never even had a beer before, much less tons of vodka. Right now I felt like I was floating a little.

He smirked a little, "Go to bed, Anya."

I tilted my head to the side a bit, "You never call me Anya."

"Well, you never act this way. Now, go to sleep."

"No kiss goodnight?" I widened my eyes innocently and pouted once again. Maybe this could work, I thought deviously.

"Goodday, you mean?" his glacier eyes twinkled mischeviously.

"Ericccc," I moaned, still pouting.

Smirking once again, he bent down so that his lips hovered over mine; they were only millimeters away...just a little further. I leaned up to close the distance, when he suddenly moved his head, so that he kissed my nose lightly instead.

"Now," he said, grinningly, "Sleep."

"Tease," I muttered under my breath, knowing he could fully well hear me. I curled beside him, fitting my head on his chest to where I could feel it rumble with his silent laughter.

"Shuddup," I yawned, snuggling further into him.

Silly Eric NorthPoleMan. I'd get my kiss.

Someday, at least.