A/N: To all of you who celebrate Christmas, hope everything was good! And to all of you currently snowed in or in the process of being snowed in, hope this helps!

It's been a while, but you guys should know by now—thanks to chiisai-kitty for beta-ing this and CH for inspiring me.

After a long, uninterrupted sleep, I woke up around three o'clock in the afternoon, even though it still looked as dark as it did when I went to bed. I really, really had to go to the bathroom, but there wasn't an actual toilet in Eric's downstairs bathroom.

Shifting my weight, I went back into the bedroom and picked up the piece of paper with the number-password for me to go upstairs. I seriously hoped there actually was a toilet in the upstairs bathroom … if there even was an upstairs bathroom. I didn't remember that on the tour.

Shit. I really didn't want to call Eric's day man and ask him to drive me to a gas station to go to the bathroom.

Once I punched the numbers in and the wall slid open—still being every bit as cool as it was last night—I meandered through the hallways, opening all of the doors I didn't remember opening yesterday. Some of the doors were locked, which made me wonder what was in them. But, I forgot all about that once I found the bathroom and it had a toilet, thank goodness.

That taken care of, I started on my next task—finding a phone so I could get in touch with Sam. I still needed a replacement one since Hugo had broken my phone in the Fellowship basement, but neither Eric nor I had the time to go about ordering one. I couldn't believe the Fellowship was like two days ago. It felt like it happened two years ago, to me.

Sam picked up on the third ring. "Merlotte's."

"Hi, Sam, it's me, Sookie," I said.

"Sookie, hey. Everything okay? I heard about what happened in Dallas and was worrying myself sick wondering if you were involved."

I tried to decide the best way to tell Sam that yes, I was involved … in everything that had happened in Dallas. But before I could choose, Sam took the leap and added, "Oh, boy. You were, weren't you?"

"Um … you could say that." And then I told him everything that happened, all the while waiting for his reprimanding. Even though there was a fair bit of it, mostly about being bait for those fucking vampires at the church, Sam seemed really impressed with Eric, although it was very begrudgingly. He just couldn't believe Eric willingly went into an anti-vampire church to save me—and something told me Eric had moved up a couple notches in Sam's book.

"So, yeah. I'm back now—in Louisiana, anyways. I'm in Shreveport, but I'll make my way back to Bon Temps sometime later tonight. I just wanted to call to let you know I'm free to work whenever," I said, wanting to change topics.

"Oh, good," Sam breathed, "I still haven't found a decent cook to replace Lafayette, so it's been a little hectic here. How does the night shift sound tonight, say seven-ish since it's a weekday, and we can figure things out from there?"

Huh. Seven. Not that much time for me and Eric tonight. But, Sam wouldn't have asked me if he didn't need me. And I was planning on going to Bon Temps tonight anyway, except now it was just a lot earlier than I'd thought. "Sure, sure. Listen, Sam, about Lafayette …" I began.

Sam cut me off. "Sookie, if this is about Eric being worried about your safety here, it's covered. There's a shot-gun behind the bar and in my office and I installed a new security system and—"

"Oh, no, I wasn't going to say anything about that. Well, the security system sounds good and all, but what I was going to say was, do they know who killed him yet?"

"No, not a clue. There haven't been any charges brought up against Andy, even though it was his car and all. But he still is on indefinite suspension and isn't allowed to help with any investigation, let alone the one concerning him. It's not even a paid leave or anything, but that hasn't stopped him from coming into Merlotte's every afternoon and getting so hammered I've had to call his sister Portia to pick him up every single night. He's taking it really rough, and the whispers and looks people are giving when he's nearby really ain't helping."

"Ohh," I said knowingly. Andy and I were nowhere near bosom buddies, especially with the way he'd been leading the serial killer investigation, but that was terrible. If anyone knew how much it hurt to have people give you weird looks and say cruel things about you behind your back it was me, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Not even Andy.

Sam continued, "Actually, the biggest rumor is that there was this sex club thing Lafayette was a member of, and I guess he mentioned to some of the people he dealt to—Lafayette was a drug dealer, they found out."

"Oh, no," I said, wincing a little. I knew Lafayette was fond of his little marijuana cigarettes—he often said Mary Jane was the only woman he could ever love—but I didn't know he was a dealer.

"Yeah. He had a ton of pills and weed and, get this, V laying all over his house. Once the police found his little black book of clients, they started getting a lot of new information, mostly about dealing but a little about the sex club their dealer would brag to them about. Cops think it's kinda like Fight Club and ya ain't supposed to talk about it, but Lafayette did and whoever's in this sex club found out."

Wow. Not only was Lafayette a drug dealer, but he was a drug dealer who sold V. But, as Eric and unfortunate experience had told me, vampires are opportunistic killers—if they want to kill someone, they're just going to go ahead and get a free meal while they're at it. And the police knew this too, for the same reasons why I knew this.

"I just … I mean, this is Bon Temps, y'know? I wonder who else was in this sex club."

"No kidding," Sam said darkly.

After that we switched to lighter fare, talking about Lafayette's replacement and other little things that happened at the bar. Sam mentioned that Jason had been looking for me, as had Mike Spencer, the director of the funeral home and the local coroner, of all people.

"Mike Spencer?" I asked, just to make sure. I had no idea what he'd want to talk to me about.

"Yeah, like three times," Sam said, laughing a little. I just knew he was running a hand through his red-gold hair, like he always did when he felt guilty about finding something funny. "And when I asked if I could pass on a message or something, he just smiled creepily and said it was something he had to ask you in person."

"Ugh. That's so weird," I said, rolling my eyes. "Moving on. What'd Jason want?"

"Oh, I think it was just because you weren't here. It didn't seem that important. And I might be out of place in telling you this, but you should give him a call."

"Alright, I think I'm gonna go do that now. Thanks for all the updates, Sam, and I'll be seeing you tonight."

"Yep. See ya then."

As soon as I hung up the phone, I called Jason. "'Sup," was how he answered the phone.

"Hey Jase, it's Sook," I said, wondering if that was how he normally took calls, since I was calling from a number that wasn't my house phone or my cell phone.

"Oh, hey Sook. Where've ya been? I went to Merlotte's the other night and you weren't workin'."

Not really wanting to have to explain myself a second time—and to a more hostile, judgmental audience—I merely said, "Eh, just needed to take a coupla days off."

"Nice. How's Eric? Did he see that tackle the quarterback for the Saints got hit with couple days ago? He's out for the rest of the season because of it."

I smiled at Jason's endearing childishness. "Uh, I don't know. I'll have to ask."

"Oh, man, it was awesome," Jason began, and then he gave me a two-minute recap of this two-second play. I paced the floor, trying to get him to stop while he was talking about the flags given in the game, but there was no use.

"Great. Now, uh, Jason, I was wondering if you heard anything about Lafayette's murder?" I asked, getting right to the point.

Jason knew all the town gossip, though I didn't know if it was because of his job or the local girls he bedded. But I knew he'd have more information than Sam, even though Sam did own the only bar in town.

"Just the sex club stuff," he replied, "so is that what you mean?"

"Well, yeah. What do you think about it?" I asked.

"I think if anyone was forming a sex club around Bon Temps, they woulda called me," he said, completely serious and sounding just a little bit wounded.

Wait a second. "You're right," I said, struck by how sensible Jason could be when you least expected him to be. "Yeah. Geeze, Jason, you'd be number one on the list."

Jesus Christ on a cracker, why hadn't I thought of that before? Not only did Jason have a reputation as a guy who'd heated up many a bed, he was both very attractive and unmarried. Girls were in love with him and guys loved him. Granted, most likely to get invited to a sex club wasn't the best superlative to win, but he really was the perfect candidate.

"Damn straight," Jason said, sounding proud.

"The only thing I can think of," I said slowly, "is that Lafayette was gay. And maybe this club, if it exists, only accepts people who are all right with that."

Wow. Jason was two for two today. "D'you think you have to be gay to get acceptance in this club?"

"I dunno. Why you ask?"

I winced at my slip-up and quickly answered, "No reason."

But, I did have a reason. I wanted to use my abilities to find Lafayette's murderer, and my best bet would be to wrangle an invite to this sex club thing. Although now I wasn't so sure if I'd be able to do it. Even though Jason was straight, he was Bon Temp's biggest catch, so, like he said, if anyone was to get an invite, it'd be him. But if Jason couldn't get an invite, then I totally couldn't.

But could Eric?

As I thought more about it, Jason was telling me more about how the Saints were shaping up and other stuff before I said my goodbye—something he let me do only after I promised to ask Eric if he saw that stupid tackle.

Bobby Burnham interrupted the reading I was doing after my phone call with Jason; all of a sudden, when I was reading Mr. Darcy's pretentious dismissal of Elizabeth Bennett at the first ball, I heard the sound of the door opening, and the weary brain of someone hoping he did everything Mr. Northman told him to do.

Even though I guessed it was Eric's day man—because that wasn't something a robber would think—I still marked my place in the book and skidded over to the lobby, where Bobby Burnham was closing the door with his foot while balancing multiple bags and boxes.

"Hi, there. Let me help you with that, sir," I said kindly, reaching for the handles of the shopping bags he was carrying. I recognized some of the labels from the local grocery store and the Best Buy.

"Thank you," he replied, begrudgingly, and surprisingly, thinking that for the first human ever to spend the day in Eric's house, Eric certainly made a good choice. He really liked that I called him sir.

My smile got stupid big upon hearing that, but as tempted as I was to read more, I put up my shields and let him pass me—he had a better grasp of the layout of the house, after all. And if I could sense that much dedication and respect for Eric in those few short seconds, then I didn't need to check his mind for anything more, because that was all that mattered to me.

Bobby led me to the kitchen and put all the bags on the counter, so I followed suit. After thanking me again, he sorted the bags into two piles. The one closest to me contained the Best Buy bags and grocery bags. The other pile also had Best Buy bags, as well as plain white non-labeled plastic bags. "These are for matters concerning you and Mr. Northman, I'm told," he said, nonchalantly pointing to the one closest to me. I nodded to show I understood, and he continued, "The others are for work-related, for Fangtasia, so those go in his study. But feel free to look through yours."

I looked at the clock—a little past five. Whatever was in the grocery bag was definitely for me, so I decided I would deal with those, and just wait until Eric woke up to go through the Best Buy ones. He'd have a better idea what to do with those technology bags, just like I'd have a better idea what to do with the grocery bags.

I did—it seemed as though Eric had ordered Bobby to buy frozen meals and fixings for coffee, along with a couple of odds and ends, like a brush and elastics and iron supplements. I put the grocery items in their places, and looked around in the cupboards just to see what else Eric had. There was a set of dishes and some cups and mugs and some silverware, along with canned goods—soup and fruit—and other non-refrigerated items, like cereal.

When Bobby returned, I didn't need to read his mind to know he was surprised I'd put away the items. He thanked me for doing it, to which I replied it was no big deal. After a couple moments, he spoke up to ask if there was anything else I required, and there really wasn't. In fact, I was kinda itching to go back to reading, and once I managed to convince Bobby that he could go, he did.

Eric woke up not too soon afterwards, finding me in the library lounging on a chair. He was wearing black silk boxers and socks and never looked sexier. Or sounded sexier when he said, "Good evening," in as much of a scratchy-sleepy voice a vampire can have.

I closed the book and set it on the table before starting to get up, but Eric was in front of me in an instant saying, "Don't."

When I remained still but looked questionably at Eric, he shrugged and explained, "I like seeing you in my favorite chair."

I looked down at the chair—rustic brown leather that looked as well-worn and old as his fabric-bound copy of Pride and Prejudice I was reading. The chair was pretty much everything the Fangtasia throne wasn't: warm, soft, inviting. I liked that it was still his favorite chair.

"Were you able to find everything today?" Eric inquired as soon as we were both comfortable, me sitting on his lap, his arms folded around my stomach with his hands resting in my lap. He had taken one look at the cover and smiled a little, only saying it was appropriate before changing the subject.

"Yeah, listen, Eric …" I said, and then filled him in with the local Bon Temps gossip I knew he'd never be interested in if it wasn't about me. But, I didn't tell him about the little party I was invited to, or the little plan I was formulating in my head about that. Don't get me wrong, I would, but just … not now. If I did now, I knew there would be no way I'd be going back to Bon Temps.

"Your work begins at seven tonight?" Eric asked once I finished. Of course he'd pick up on that.

"Yeah. So I need to be leaving here … soonish, since I need to go home first," I said, a little reluctantly.

"I'll drive you," he said.

"Okay." Neither of us moved.

"You said Jason asked if I saw the Saints tackle?" Eric said randomly, out of the silence that had gathered since I last spoke. He sounded pleased, and when I turned my head a little I could see that he looked as pleased as he sounded.

"Yeah. Seems like you two have quite the bromance going on," I laughed, especially when Eric gleefully proclaimed he actually knew what that meant.

After making sure I had had enough to eat during the day—and making a special point to ask if there was anything I needed, foodwise—Eric said we should probably leave if I were to have enough time before my work, and he before his. While he went to the office to check on the other packages and bags Bobby had brought, I went downstairs to pack. I left a couple undies, bras, and PJs (including the new lingerie I hadn't used) in an empty shelf in one of his chest of drawers.

Eric came downstairs as I was doing that; it seemed like as soon as he understood what I was doing, he purposefully walked over to stand next to me, his beaming practically contagious.

"Sorry, I should have asked first. Is it okay if I do this?" I asked, pausing to look over at him.

"Of course."

"Good." After smiling at each other, I went back to putting my stuff in the drawer, and Eric went back to watching me, still beaming.

"This is for you," he said, unceremoniously thrusting a Best Buy bag at me once I was done.

I took the bag, a little suspiciously, and hesitantly reached my hand into it, finally pulling out a small, square box with a picture of a cell phone on it, the same cell phone I'd had that Hugo destroyed in Dallas.

"It's a replacement," Eric explained, confirming my thoughts.

"So it is. Thank you," I replied, "and I really needed a new one, too." Beaming at him, I set it down on the top of the drawers. I could tell that Eric had been expecting a little financial fight, and was relieved it didn't happen.

Caught up in the moment, I leaned over and kissed him; though kissing Eric was always a good time, it felt even better now, now that I had clothes in his house. Goodness knows he'd had clothes in my house since day one, but it was nice knowing we were on the same footing on that front.

Thirty minutes later I was back in Bon Temps, and it looked exactly the same. I was the only thing that seemed different, I thought to myself.

Once we were home, Eric helped himself to a True Blood and curiously watched me while I flitted from room to room, checking the timers on the lights and opening a couple windows and other menial tasks you do once you come back from vacation. When I was dressed for work and ready to go, then we went outside, but only made it to the top of the porch stairs. Neither of us wanted to leave just yet, even though we needed to.

"I think with my late shift and all, it'd probably be easier just for me to spend the night here," I said, squinting up at the night sky.

Eric paused before agreeing with me. "And what of tomorrow?"

"Um, well, I was thinking I'd ask to take the day shift tomorrow, so that tomorrow night I can be with you at Fangtasia and then, if it's not an inconvenience, sleep over at your place."

From the corner of my eye I could see Eric trying not to smile, and it wasn't too long before I was doing the same.

"Of course it's not an inconvenience. You should know that by now," he replied.

We shared another grin, and then another kiss—but the sweet, tender ones that somehow seem more intimate and harder than just sticking your tongue down someone else's throats.

"Good night, Sookie Stackhouse," Eric called out flirtatiously as we walked to our respective cars.

"Good night, Eric Northman," I said right back, winking because I knew he'd be able to see it even in the darkness of the night. A slight chuckle told me yes, he had.

I followed him out to the main road before we went our separate ways, all the while noticing that it seemed like Eric was driving much more slowly than usual tonight, even paying attention to a stop sign, if only to pause at it, so he'd be closer to me longer. And out of all of the gestures and gifts he had given to me tonight, this was the one thing that made me love him even more.