A/N: Hello my darlings. Are you surprised to see me back so soon? I know, a new chapter practically two weeks in a row! Plus – this one's a fat 5400+ words! It's 'cause I love you (and EN) so much ;D

A big thanks to nycsnowbird, who lovingly (and with super vamp speed) beta'd this chapter. Any mistakes remaining are purely mine ;p

Oh, and one last thing. This chapter goes out to three of my favorite girlies: Joie and Vio (and all the other Nutella addicts out there); and, to Lan – my favorite adorkable shrugging li'l fangirl ;D

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the characters in SVM or the HBO series True Blood. However, the original content and ideas below are mine all mine.


CHAPTER 4: PICTURE PERFECT FIEND

I didn't want to tell the tree or weed what it was. I wanted it to tell me something and through me express its meaning in nature

~Wynn Bullock

Sookie

F/Stop Gallery, Friday.

6:55pm. I slipped the phone back in my purse as we headed towards the steps of the F/Stop Gallery, but I stopped just short of the door.

"Oh, no, no, no, I don't think so, Sook," Amelia hissed at my ear as she applied more pressure to my back, pushing me towards the entrance. "I didn't just drop half my paycheck on several rounds of Nutellatinis just to have you chicken out now."

I stopped struggling against her momentarily, twisting around to take another look at my friend. Well, she did treat me to those amazing Nutellatinis. Normally, I'm strictly a gin and tonic kind of girl, and I do tend to thumb my nose at girly cocktails that barely taste like you're drinking anything, but I had been hearing so much lately about this wildly spreading craze for Nutella. So, I figured it was worth a shot. I mean, I have yet to meet any kind of chocolate that I didn't like, and I was curious to see if it was really as orgasmic as it was hyped up to be.

Well, to say that we did a reprisal of When Harry Met Sally would be the understatement of the decade. The heavenly concoction itself—a blend of Nutella, espresso, and vodka—was enough to throw any girl into the throes of wild passion, but what put it over the top was the Nutella dipped rim that had been ingeniously coated with crushed hazelnuts. You could tell that they had gone to the trouble of roasting the hazelnuts with salt, and that slight tang set the chocolate factor soaring. I vaguely remember thinking that this could be extremely dangerous as we polished off our first round, and started on our next.

My clenched muscles softened as I finally relented against my friend. She immediately sensed my resignation and pushed me the rest of the way towards the doors of the gallery.

I stared down at the ground as we walked in and dragged my feet, hoping the friction would somehow halt, or at least slow down our movement towards the gates of doom that loomed before me. No such luck. Instead, Amelia ushered me through the doors, and when I finally looked up, I found myself headed straight into the waiting arms of one very eager and grinning Miss Pamela Ravenscroft.

"So nice of you to join us, Sookie," she purred into my hair as she embraced me, then held me at arms length, no doubt to admire her handiwork.

I'd hate to admit it, but she did pick a beautiful dress for me. It wasn't all that difficult to convince myself to wear it. It was a strapless floor length dress in the faintest shade of pink. The loose folds of the silky material flowed and swooshed elegantly around my body, in a way that was both modest and sexy at the same time.

She expressed her approval with a brief nod and sparkle of her eye, then linked her hand in mine and led me into the room. As soon as I spotted the group of patrons, the black of their clothes blending into each other, I instinctively froze in my spot, only to be met with an unamused glare from Pam.

"Sookie, Sookie, Sookie ... I thought we came to an understanding."

Her look softened as she registered the sheer terror reflected back at her from my widening eyes. She pulled me in closer, bending down to whisper into my ear. "Come on now, time to be a big girl. I won't let them bite. Promise"

Noticing my body relax against hers, and a smile form on my lips, her own smirk widened into a pleased grin. We both snagged a glass of champagne from the server as he passed by with a tray, and made our way to the first group of eager attendees.

The first wave of small talk seemed to go okay.

But then the questions came. Relentless, repetitive and each more ridiculous than the next, as far as I was concerned.

"So, Miss Stackhouse, what inspires you?"

Um, I dunno, life? I plastered a polite smile on my face as I frantically searched for a more appropriate answer. "Um ... I don't know that there's anything in particular," I offered, my body tensing as disappointment clouded over the faces in front of me, the excited smiles visibly dimming. I quickly added, "I mean ... it's so hard to put something like that into words, y'know?"

I didn't dare another glance into the hungry, predatory eyes in front of me, so as soon as I ran out of words to fill the tense silence, I dove into the solace of the booze in my hand, tipping the remainder of the champagne into my dry throat. Spotting another server winding his way around my audience, I exchanged my empty glass for a full one as he passed by me, holding onto my next dose of liquid courage as if it were an anchor, or a safety button. What I really wished for was one of those big red Staples "Easy" buttons. No such luck.

The questions continued, forcing me out of my fantasy.

"Oh, of course, Miss Stackhouse. But ... what kinds of subjects catch your obviously very talented eye?"

Oh, well, obvious, fawning flattery will get you nowhere with this country bumpkin, I thought with a wince. Hadn't Pam warned them that I don't bite on pathetic, empty, pandering compliments? After another exasperated sigh, which I'd hoped could pass for a thoughtful one, even though the warning glare from Pam assured me otherwise, and another large gulp of champagne, I replied. "Well, I don't know that it's anything in particular. If I see a picture, and I'm lucky enough to have my camera in my hands at the time, I take it."

More blank, disappointed stares. And some feet shuffles.

"Well, what I mean to say is ... I'm not one for planning. Plans never work out anyway, right? I just let it sorta happen. I mean, there's beautiful pictures all around us, all you have to do is learn how to see them." There. I see your pretentious-smarty-pants airs, and raise you a score of corny-romantic-load-of-b.s. Is that enough for you to gnaw on for a while?

But they just kept advancing, hunger and need in their glassy stares. I downed the rest of my drink. "Well, it was really nice to meet y'all! I really do appreciate your interest, and coming to the show n' all. But, I was really looking forward to checking it out myself, what with never having seen my work displayed like this. So, if you'll excuse me ..." I trailed off as I began to back up.

I glanced over at Pam, relieved at the barely perceptible nod of approval she graced me with. I was already getting a headache, so I happily took it as silent permission for brief respite from the suffocating, needy crowds. Exhaling a breath I hadn't even realized I was holding, I continued backing away slowly, quite shocked at how well my excuse was going over. I could practically see the neon exit sign, lighting my way.

I was not a little surprised that my escape was going as well as it was. But, I'm not really known for my graceful exits.

Oooof!

I had almost made it when I walked right back into a wall. Hard. Well, I was moving pretty fast (or at least trying to), and it felt like a very hard wall, but walls don't grab your arms with large, warm hands to steady you. Also, walls aren't usually warm, I observed, continuing down my ridiculous mental checklist.

I froze, took a few short, entirely too-loud breaths to steady myself, although those mighty strong hands were doing a fine job of it all by themselves, and twisted my neck up and back to look at my human wall.

Oh. My. Gawwwwd.

This can not be happening to me.

I was deathly mortified, but I was also secretly jumping up and down, not believing my luck.

I was standing in the arms of Eric Northman!

EN. The man just did not meet a camera that didn't instantly fall in love with him. I had wondered if he was just obscenely photogenic, or always looked this perfect in real life too. Boy oh boy. I had no idea.

If I was any closer to him, the top of my head would be touching his, um, well, I was going to say chin, but that would only be possible if he was a mere human. But seeing as he must be a Norse god dropped from the gracious heavens, I realized that even if I stood on the very tips of my toes, I could only pray to barely reach his nipples.

Speaking of, they were almost staring at me from underneath his shirt, unbuttoned down to his chest. Oh, dear lord have mercy. He was wearing that gorgeous gray suit that he seemed to like so much. And, hey, who was I to complain? I enjoyed seeing him in it, just as much as he apparently enjoyed wearing it. I won't lie. I was a bit disappointed that he opted against his trademark see through black t-shirt for a white oxford. Huh. I guess he was going for more of a proper, dressy look for the stuffy gallery types?

Part of me wanted to run away and hide. But the other part told me that millions of girls, me included, would kill to be this close him, and would probably be willing to go on a murderous rampage if it meant they could spend a few precious, breathless seconds enveloped in his strong arms like this.

Breathe, girl, breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

Oh shit. I was sure that if you looked up the definition of OSM (that's Oh Shit Moment) in the dictionary it had to have an accompanying photo of this moment.

"Sookie Stackhouse. I was hoping to run into you."

A blinding flash snapped me out of my daze. We both whipped our head in its direction, just in time to see the satisfied grin spread across Amelia's face as she admired the photo she'd just snapped.

"Ami!" I hissed at her, feeling my cheeks grow hot with a blush.

"What?" she inquired too innocently, still admiring the photo in her cellphone. "He's used to it," she add with a nonchalant shrug. "Aren't ya, Eric?"

"Amelia," I admonished, rushing over to her and grabbing her by the arm. "I don't think we're on a first name basis yet."

"Oh that's fine," came his deep, husky voice from entirely too close. "I prefer Eric."

Heh. As do, no doubt, most girls in this room, I thought with a smirk as I glared at Amelia, grateful the Eric only had a view of the back of my head. Unfortunately, my grip on her arm was not strong enough to hold on to my slippery little friend, as she moved around me and bounded towards him.

"My turn, " she said with a devious smile, handing me the phone as she passed by me. "You don't mind, do you , Eric?" She did not miss the opportunity to put an emphasis on his preferred name.

He agreed, of course, with one of those signature EN winks. Thud. Well, that was one thing I had greatly admired about him—he was always extremely generous with the hordes of adoring fans that wanted a picture. I just wasn't too keen on playing that role in the middle of my first gallery show. Oh well. Beggars can't be choosers.

I raised the phone to take the picture, my eyebrow quirking as I noticed Amelia's roving hands. Geesh. Girl wasn't shy, that's for sure.

After the flash went off again, she bounced back in my direction, reaching for her phone. Her squeal was deafening what she got a peek at the goods. Subtlety was definitely not in her skill set.

Eric just stood there, stuck to the spot, staring at me intently.

My heart thumped loudly in my ears, and my throat was entirely too dry for me to formulate any kind of verbal response. So I shrugged. I freaking shrugged at EN! I immediately turned bright red at the utter lameness of my response. EN invites you to take a picture wrapped in his gorgeous arms, and you shrug? Amelia gave me a rough shove in his direction, and I hurriedly closed the rest of the distance between us, hoping he hadn't notice the massive blush.

He wrapped his arm around my shoulder as I snaked my own arms around his slim waist. Jesus Christ, Shepherd of Judea, this man smelled good enough to eat. If anyone ever came up with a way to blend sex and sugar, well, this must be what that heady concoction would smell like. Yum cubed. Okay, well, only a sugar junky such as myself would have that fantasy, but whatever.

My mouth was beginning to water at the thought, when I suddenly felt hot breath at my ear. "That shade of pink is beautiful on you," he whispered, causing me to snort just as the flash went off again. I somehow didn't think he was talking about my dress.

"Ahhh ... there's that sexy snort," he whispered with an almost audible smirk.

My breath caught in my throat.

I was absolutely mortified that it was actually EN that had called. And that I had hung up on, I reminded , it was also becoming crystal clear, practically as soon as he opened that beautiful mouth of his, that real life EN was just as much an egomaniac as Leif, the human half of the Erikson twins. His long hair may have fooled me for the first few moments, but I knew that he was about as far from adorkably cute Bjorn as was humanly possible.

I rushed over to Amelia's side, grateful for an excuse to escape his snare. "C'mon Ami. Let's go look at the show," I said, grabbing her hand.

I froze at the sound of Eric, clearing his throat behind me. "Would you ladies mind if I join you?"

All I could manage was another damn shrug of my shoulders as I tightened my grip on Amelia's hand and we moved towards the first photo.

It was a strange but thrilling feeling to see my work hung on the walls. The photos were framed in glossy, thin black frames around a slightly off-white mat. This was my favorite treatment for black and white photographs, because it really set off the print without attracting any undue attention. As we walked through the gallery, I also noticed that the lighting had been carefully adjusted to illuminate each piece just right. I was really touched by all these little details that Pam had obviously paid such close attention to.

I could feel the groping eyes of the crowds follow me around, but thankfully they had gotten the hint and kept their distance. EN, on the other hand, did not. I would never have admitted it out loud, but I didn't really mind. Hey, what girl wouldn't want to have her very own Norse-god puppy-dog at arm's length? Well, not that he was anything remotely resembling a puppy-dog, but he was practically following me around like one. I knew I should probably keep him at a safe distance, as he seemed to be the stereotypical Hollywood playboy, but, I was kind of flattered that once we began looking at my work, he seemed to be genuinely interested in it.

I was also surprised to be oddly comforted by his close presence. You see, I have this strange sixth sense. I am very sensitive to people's emotions. Not in any useful kind of way, like I can sense when someone's lying, or something. No, it's just that I'm easily affected by people's moods. My Gran always tried to convince me it was a gift, but I couldn't bring myself to see it that way. I mean, I could go from happily skipping along, minding my own business, to all of a sudden being morbidly depressed, just because someone else was having a bad day.

This was actually one of the major reasons I didn't want to come to this thing. I knew it had the potential of being incredibly draining. So, I was happy now to have Amelia, the eternal energy booster bunny, on my arm, and EN, who seemed, so far at least, to be unusually energy neutral, at my back.

But still, the crowds were milling about, as if just looking for a chance to penetrate my shields of protection. I was also getting antsy as we continued walking through the gallery because I still hadn't spotted the one picture I had been looking for—the one that Gran had sent in, which had won the competition for me.

Just then, a waiter walked by with a tray of what looked like miniature edible artworks. We each grabbed a few items to nibble on, and continued our leisurely, silent walk through the gallery.

An amused smile played on my lips as I noticed that each piece had exactly the same label on it. Sookie Stackhouse. Untitled. Black & white photograph. Pam could have easily gotten a volume discount on printing these, even though I was quite positive she would shudder at just the thought of doing such a thing.

I remembered how highly annoyed she'd gotten when we were working out the details of the show, which she'd made abundantly clear to me by the loud sighs that I could hear coming from her. She thought I was being stubborn and uncooperative, refusing to provide her with titles, and even dates. In all fairness, I had no idea when I took most of my pictures, and I'd never bothered with titles. It just seemed like too much work, and kind of pointless. Anyway, after our final discussion of this issue, I distinctly remember telling her that for all I cared, she could number them. At least that got an amused chuckle.

I was starting to get really nervous now as we continued touring the gallery, and still hadn't spotted that photograph. Just before we completed the loop, almost reaching the place where we had begun our tour of the exhibition, I breathed a sigh of relief as my eyes finally found what they had been searching for.

I had taken this picture almost ten years ago, but looking at it always brought me back to that day. I could almost feel the warm rays of the sun streaming through the kitchen window, shining a blanket of lazy languor over Gran, as she stood at the counter. I had captured her as she was lost in one of her favorite activities, kneading dough for one of her delicious concoctions, eyes closed and mouth slightly pursed in an expression of concentration and pure pleasure. From the ¾ profile angle of the shot, the edges of her silver hair almost glowed where the sunlight hit it, in dramatic contrast to the swirls of dark gray tones that defined the large waves of her long hair, falling over her shoulders and down to the middle of her back. A smile crept across my lips. I could almost feel her standing here beside me.

That is, until I was interrupted by one of the circling vermin.

"E-Excuse me," he said. "Miss Stackhouse?"

Tension stiffened my body as I spun around to answer. "Yes?"

"May I ask you a quick question?"

"Sure," I replied with little enthusiasm, grateful for Amelia and Eric flanking my sides protectively.

"Well, I just wanted to say... I absolutely love the candid quality of your photos," he began.

Oh, why did I sense a big, huge, but coming.

"But..."

And there it was.

"I wonder... what is the meaning you are trying to convey?"

I was momentarily shocked that he didn't notice the steam coming out of my ears. But then, I had to fight against the smirk that threatened to curl at the corner of my mouth, as I was reminded of one of my favorite artists, Warhol. The critics had so desperately clung to him, practically begging him to reveal the greater meaning of his work—oh, how they desired it to be a commentary on sad nature and pitfalls of our consumerist society—but he never admitted to anything more than creating beautiful pictures, and chasing after his 15 minutes of fame.

I downed the rest of the champagne in my glass, before collecting myself to answer the question. Another one down the hatch.

"I just try to capture what is in front of me," I replied, looking off to the side to hide the annoyance in my eyes. "It's up to you where you let it take you."

God, how I loved Amelia. Even though we'd known each other for almost two years electronically, we'd only met face to face a few hours ago. Yet, she knew exactly what I wanted without me even speaking a word out loud—it was as if she could read my mind, and she wasn't too shy to worry about being polite or proper.

"Excuse us," she said, not really asking a question, as she looped her arm through mine and led me away.

We made our way towards the other side of the room, and sat down on one of the benches, absentmindedly munching on the food that remained on our plates.

I raised my hand to my head, massaging my temples absentmindedly. I wasn't even aware that I had made such an obvious gesture, so I was startled when EN leaned in to inquire about it.

"You okay?" he asked.

My hand shot up to cover my mouth, attempting to hide the uncontrollable giggle that erupted. Hmm ... what should I tell him? Oh, I'm just fine EN ... just the needy, depressed emotions in this room are piercing daggers through my head and weighing me down like a ton of bricks? Crazy much?

"Uh ... no. I'm fine," I managed after suppressing another wave of giggles. "I just haven't eaten much today." And boozing it up at an Olympic-winning rate hasn't helped much, either, I added silently.

"Well, we could easily fix that," he said, leaning in even closer. "The tiny nibbles we've been munching on don't exactly qualify as real food."

We both laughed. Ungh. I don't know what was cuter. His barely perceptible accent, or hearing it through his usage of American phraseology.

"No, I guess they don't," I acknowledged, then turned around, returning my attention to the photo I'd searched for all night long. I was relieved to be free of the swarming crowd for now, so I was surprised that my headache didn't seem to be receding. On the contrary, it seemed to be getting worse. Suddenly, I felt the room close in around me, suffocating as everything grew dimmer, until it all melted into pitch black nothingness.

Eric

You have a new text from Pamela Ravenscroft.

Still planning on personally delivering those tix?

I sent off a quick reply.

I'll be there.

Her reply was even quicker.

In that case...

Leave it to Pam and her cryptic ways, I thought with mounting irritation, as I waited for her to complete her sentence. My answer came about 60 seconds later, with apicturefile of a flowing, barley pink strapless gown.

As I hurried back to the set, I couldn't help but wonder if Pam's new Barbie doll was a willing participant.

F/Stop Gallery, Friday, 7:25p.m.

I knew I was in trouble immediately.

Blinking rapidly, I attempted to clear the spell that she seemed to cast on me. For fuck's sake, Northman. You're the king of this town, and you can have your pick of its beauties.

I was already enthralled by her talents as an artist, but I was not prepared for her breathtaking beauty. This was certainly not a development I had anticipated. Even from my limited view of her back, she was a vision. She sparkled in her barely-blush hued dress, like one of those rare pink diamonds, surrounded by the black coal that attempts to hide it, hoarding the coveted beauty all for itself.

Her golden curls were piled loosely on top of her head, a few stray strands falling in the most enticing manner around the nape of her neck. Her back and arms positively glowed with the deep caramel of her sun-kissed skin, complimented perfectly by the gown's pale shade of pink.

So, I already knew how thoroughly fucked over I was, just looking at her back from a few feet away. But, holding her tiny body in my arms after she'd collapsed, staring at her full, upturned lips, even now, in her current state of unconsciousness, impossibly, oh-so-fucking-kissable ruby-red, I cursed every old Norse god whose name I could remember, as well as Pam, for putting me in this predicament.

I was not a one flavor kind of guy but, I already knew, without needing a psychic, that this little blonde piece of heaven would not be satisfied with just a piece of me.

Shit, Northman, what the hell is wrong with you? She's passed out in your arms, and this it the time you pick to psycho-analyze your love life?

Forcing myself to snap out of it, I bent down to check if she was breathing. Her breath was shallow, but definitely still there. I looked up at her friend and told her to find Pam and also get a glass of water for when Sookie revived.

Within seconds, her eyes fluttered open. After her first moment of consciousness settled in, panic crossed her features as she realized where she was. I caressed her shoulder in a gesture meant to calm and reassure her.

"It's okay, Sookie," I whispered. "I've got you."

At this, she stilled. "We're in Pam's office. Amelia should be back shortly with some water for you. Go ahead and rest your eyes, if you need to."

She shook her head slightly, her sky-blue eyes remaining locked with mine.

"We really do need to get some serious food in you," I said, brushing a lock a hair from her face. I could feel her tense at my touch, and that gorgeous shade of pink returned to her cheeks. "So, what are you in the mood for?"

The pink turned to deep magenta. I suddenly understood why this was Pam's favorite color.

First, I suggested a burger joint, and she fucking wrinkled her nose! It was obviously not a conscious gesture, but that made it all the more adorably sexy. Shit. Fuck. Shit. I continued, willing my cock to stand down. "How about El Tepayac? They have killer guacamole." Another too-freaking-cute nose wrinkle.

I looked up as I heard the door open, seeing Pam walk in with Amelia close behind. Ignoring the mischievous smirks on their faces, I returned my attention to Sookie.

"Okay, well, there's a 24 hour breakfast place not too far away ..." This brought on a sparkle of excitement into her widening sky blue eyes. I wondered, was it possible that she might have an unquenchable sweet tooth to match mine?

"Okay," she agreed with feigned resignation.

"You spoke the magic words," Amelia said with a snort, handing me the glass of water that she had brought for her friend. "This girl would eat breakfast for every meal of the day if she could."

I helped her sit up, offering her the glass. As she put it to those perfect lips, I continued. "In that case, you'll love it. They specialize in crepes. They have savory ones as well, but they serve the entire menu all day long."

"That sounds good," she murmured after gulping down about half the water.

I rose to my feet, still holding her in my arms.

"Alright, let's go then," I whispered down to her, and gently set her down on her own two feet.

After Pam left the gallery in the capable hands of her assistant, Felicia, and a short twenty minute drive (well, short by L.A. standards), the four of us filed into the restaurant, and stood at the side of the counter, examining the menu.

"Know what you want, Pammy?" I chuckled at her eye roll. I loved how much she hated that particular nickname.

"Don't I always?" Pam answered with a smug smirk. "What about you?"

"Hmm..." I muttered, finger tapping on my lips. "I think I'll go with the Nutella crepes."

A gasp. Then a shudder. I looked over to my side, to see Sookie's head snap in my direction, eyes widening as she bit down on her lower lip and gripped my shoulder, fingers digging into my skin. Did she even know how fucking hot she was?

"Um … did you say … Nutella?" She was practically gnawing on her bottom lip now.

"Oh, I sure did," I answered with a wink.

A loud snort snapped us both our of our lusty haze. "Oh, now you've really done it."

"Hush up, Amelia," she hissed, and then turned her face up to me with a sheepish grin. "Well, Ami just introduced me to these Nutellatinis earlier, and well ... I guess you could say it was the best chocolate experience of my life."

She was now staring adorably at the ground, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. I couldn't resist. I leaned in close and whispered into her ear. "So, are you ready for round two?"

I felt her body heat beside me. I continued. "You seriously have to try these, Sookie. Caramelized bananas, toasted pecans, smothered in creamy Nutella goodness. You know, they don't call it spreadable joy for nothing." She actually swayed, no, teetered next to me. So, I did the only thing I could think to do. I leaned in even closer, my lips brushing her cheek, and breathed into her skin. "Want some?"

She jumped back as if scorched, her blush deepening. " I – um ..." she stammered. "Uh, yeah. That sounds good."

"What sounds good, Sookie?" I whispered seductively, reaching out to pull her back to me.

She swatted my hand away. "Easy boy. The Nutella crepes," she said, rolling her eyes. "Geesh, I guess it doesn't take much acting chops for you to get into that Leif character, huh?"

She looped arms with Amelia and Pam as they headed towards a booth, leaving me behind to place the order.

The O Hotel, Saturday, 2a.m.

I was just about to give up and turn around, after knocking on the door for a third time, when I heard the locks begin to rattle. After another long, comedically awkward moment, the door finally swung open, to reveal a just-showered Sookie.

Shit. I couldn't quite decide whether to laugh or to pounce on her. She was wearing what she apparently used as pajamas, while towel drying her hair with her free hand. Her outfit consisted of tight, white boy shorts with a lace trim that only reached the very top of her thigh, I all but licked my lips imagining how they must hug her backside, barely skimming where the round curves met her legs.

But, the best part of her outfit, was her Team Vamp T-shirt. Not only did it cling to her still-damp body in all the right places, it was also an undeniable testament to how big a fan of my show she really was . Just like her visibly hardening nipples, she wore it like a flag, making it pretty damn difficult for her to deny my effect on her.

After catching my breath, and talking down my eager cock, I was able to find my voice.

"I'm glad to see you're such a big fan of the show," I said. "But, I am disappointed you don't bat for Team Human."

She rewarded me with that adorable snort, and an eye roll. "Is there a reason for this late night visit, Mr. Northman?"

"C'mon, I thought I made it clear that I prefer Eric."

"Okay, fine, Eric," she replied, focusing on finishing up drying her hair. "What brings you by at this late—I mean, early—hour of the morning?"

I swallowed hard, attempting to remember the original excuse for my visit. "Oh, well, you so distracted me earlier I had forgotten to give you these." I produced the tickets to tomorrow's, or rather, tonight's, Fiends premiere and handed them over to her.

She accepted them with an excited gleam in her eye that did not escape my notice. Nor did the flush in her face and her quickened breath at the sparks that ignited where our hands brushed against each other's.

"Uh, thanks," she murmured, snatching her hand away and holding it close to her ample chest. "You didn't have to personally deliver them, but I appreciate it."

I stood there, a shit-eating grin plastered across my entire face, literally from ear to fucking ear. It only slightly faded when she shut the door in my face.

A/N: So... what did you think? Please feed me by pressing the little green button and reviewing :-)

BTW - I have been a bit down because my cowboy fic hasn't gotten as much love as I had hoped. So, if you have time, please consider putting it on your reading list. It's called Viking, Texas Ranger, and you can access it on my profile.*bats lashes*

Also, I'll be posting a link to Sookie's outfit on my profile very soon. A huge thanks to fascinatingnewthing for helping me with Sookie's shopping ;p

Hope you all have a safe and happy holiday season :-)