A/N: Okay, so before this chappie, I just wanted to say that I adore and pore over every single review, and I so appreciate every story alert and favorite you add. I know I've been just terrible about replying to you guys, but every time I'm about to, I figure you guys would probably prefer if I spent that time on the next update. So, please keep 'em coming! They are my writing V. Enjoy :)

CHAPTER 11: EVERYTHING BUTT THE…

Sometimes I do get to places just when God's ready to have somebody click the shutter.

~Ansel Adams

Sookie

"So, Italian then?"

"Yup," I replied as I put on the seatbelt.

Well, it was between French and Italian, and I loathed French restaurants. They were so pretentious. Only French restaurants were foo-foo enough to actually not translate their menus into English, and staffed with waiters who actually looked forward to you not being able to order.

Oh, okay, I'll admit it—I might be slightly biased when it came to French restaurants. After all, my very first date was at one—or rather, non-date. I should have suspected something right from the start, when the reigning prom king asked me out on a date. But when JB du Rone didn't show, leaving me to sit all by lonesome at Chez Bellefleur for a couple of extremely embarrassing hours, I developed a very strong distaste for escargot as well as the snooty waiters who peddled them.

But try as I might on the way there, EN refused to give me any clue as to where we were going, aside from a very cryptic assurance that I would enjoy the meal.

Arriving and entering the restaurant was a bit cloak and dagger. I mean, I'd heard of the things stars did to avoid being spotted, but having never actually experienced anything like it, well—it was kind of hard not to laugh.

First, EN swerved into a dark, poorly-lit alley without so much as slowing down, causing me to clutch at the door and shut my eyes. When we pulled up to an abrupt stop, I peeked through one eye, only to find ourselves in some sort of back parking lot. He was at my door before my eyes had even adjusted to the light (or rather, lack thereof), and led me inside. We rushed through an empty hallway and a bustling kitchen. He didn't even wait for anyone to seat us—just barreled through the dining room and led us to a booth at the back corner. It was probably the farthest table from the front doors, and the most secluded.

I stared across the table at him, eyes wide with disbelief. It felt like we had made our crazy entrance in the span of one breath, if that. "What, no blindfold?"

He grinned. "Nah, I trust you."

My retort was cut short by the arrival of our waiter and menus. I followed Eric's advice and ordered the mushroom ravioli. He went with the lasagna.

To say that both dinner and the company were extremely delicious would be the understatement of the year. Possibly the century.

I looked up at him with a mouthful of moan-inducing ravioli, when I momentarily froze at the sight of EN eating Lasagna.

The cheese hung in gooey strings from the fork as he lifted it. I followed the path of the lasagna-loaded fork as he moved it to his mouth, watching it slip between those perfect lips. When his tongue darted out to grab the string of cheesy goodness that stuck to his lips, I had to bite down on my lip to keep from mirroring the gesture with my own tongue and moaning way too loud.

I was vaguely aware that his lips were now moving—most likely forming words—but my lust-haze prevented me from actually connecting sound to meaning.

"Highly impressed … Innate ability… Connect to subjects …"

God dammit. He's obviously trying to have a serious grown-up conversation, and all you can do is stare and drool! SNAP OUT OF IT, GIRL!

I was finally able to scold myself into shaking off the EN-daze and return to the real world.

I was able to piece together that he was now talking about the shots I'd taken of that older couple, which had seemed to particularly impress him earlier.

After returning from Catalina, we were able to find a nice, comfortable spot on the nearby beach to look through the photos. I had given myself a congratulatory slap on the back for going with a digital camera for the day—I usually opted for the old fashioned film camera, unless I knew that I would purely be taking snapshots. Eric seemed perfectly content to look through the photos. And, if it wasn't for that, I really couldn't fathom how else we would have killed those couple of hours before dinnertime.

I forced my attention back to him now, as his gaze seemed to grow even more intense.

"… I think that is what I find so intriguing about your work. And being able to observe you first hand ..." He was scratching at the stubble on his cheek, and it was almost as if he was talking more to himself than to me. But then he looked like he suddenly realize what he had been doing, and broke out in a self-conscious grin. "I am more fascinated than ever. It just seems to be instinctual, almost unconscious."

I was caught in his piercing stare, almost as if he really was trying to penetrate me from across the table. My throat began to feel extremely dry. I swallowed hard, just trying to figure out what to say. Well, really, anything to say. Anything would be better than staring at him like a damn moron, mouth agape and doe-eyed.

"Uh … Wow. I—I do appreciate that Eric. Really I do." Oh, brilliant, Sookie. Just Brilliant. When had I turned into a stammering, blubbering idiot?

Drawing an absolute blank on the witty and adorable column, I tried for deep and soulful, but came up with heave-inducing cheese instead. "I guess I look for truth in my subjects ... for their light. Ugh, that sounds so hokey." I resisted the urge to smack my forehead, opting to just turn my eyes away from the horrendous pileup of lame. I sounded like a stupid hallmark card, or even worse, one of those sentimental puke-fest photo books about friendship or happiness.

He reached out for my hand, rubbing his thumb along the back of my palm in a gesture that was meant to send reassurance, but only made me gulp hard as I once again found myself ogling his ginormous hands.

After a very long moment of indulging my hand-porn fantasies, I raised my eyes to his with a small smile. "That's why I've mostly photographed people who I know really well. I just can't get a good feel for someone unless I get to really know them."

I was both surprised and pleased at how comfortable I had become with him. I'd meant to share an important aspect of my work with him with my little confession, but as soon as the words left my mouth, they just made me realize all the reasons why I couldn't say yes to his offer of employment—no matter how great of an opportunity it might be. "I can't do this in a day with you, Eric."

He whispered my name in that husky sex-voice of his, with a longing reverence that gave me the courage to meet his eyes again.

The trademark EN panty-scorching smirk was on full display, before he leaned forward and winked at me. "That could be easily remedied."

I yanked my hand away. "Is that so?"

"Yeah. I'd love to spend a few days with you."

"Uh huh. I'm sure you would." I snapped back with an eye roll to match.

His smile transformed from predatory to sweet. "Oh, Sookie, Sookie, Sookie. It would appear that you are running out of excuses here. I will be on my best behavior." I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to see if he had his fingers crossed behind his back. He continued, all innocence and puppy eyes. "All I'm proposing is that you shadow me for a few days. It could be like one of those day-in-the-life things."

I snickered. "Oh, you mean study the animal in its natural habitat?"

"Something like that. You know, there are many out there who would pay a small fortune for such an opportunity."

I snorted. Seriously, I wasn't sure how it was physically possible that his head hadn't exploded yet. I mean, he was probably right, but that's beside the point.

"What? It's true. You want a list of those that already have? Hmm … let's see … Vogue, Vanity Fair, GQ ... and that was just for a few hours of my time."

I rolled my eyes. A small fortune my hiney. "And how much exactly did they pay for the privilege of featuring you in their magazine?" I sneered. Of course, I tried not to think of the swoonlicious spreads he had referred to, all of which I knew entirely too well. No need to pump up that overgrown ego even more.

He pretended to examine his fingernails, like the damn prima donna that he was. "Oh, I don't kiss and tell."

I was quite certain that there had to be steam coming out of my ears . In fact, I was more than a little surprised that I wasn't hearing that teakettle whistling sound.

With impeccable timing, the waiter stopped by our table and asked if we would be needing anything else before depositing the check.

EN picked up one of those cellophane-wrapped toothpicks, unwrapped it leisurely as if he knew I was watching him, and stuck it in his mouth before breaking into a grin. I cursed myself as I was fixated by his mouth, unable to tear my gaze from it to meet his eyes. It was just so... UNNNNNNGH; the tiny sliver of wood hung precariously from where it was clenched between his perfect, white teeth, tapping the soft curve of his lip every so often, and leading my eye to the rough stubble that peppered his face. I felt my panties incinerate as my eyes involuntarily travelled to the little cleft in his chin, which the stubble seemed to favor, growing much thicker and longer there. Seriously, Sookie? Get a hold of yourself, and your girlbits, I scolded myself, and thought that if I was going to be exposed to any more EN hotness, maybe some playtime with my new toy would be required. Barring an intervention from the Department of Panty-land Security, that is.

He grabbed the toothpick with his all too edible fingers, and licked his lips suggestively. "Sookie? You still with me?"

The coy maneuver was thankfully enough to snap me out of my fangirl lust haze. "Wh-what?"

"Well? What do you say?"

Heh. Good question. What do I say? Hmmm ... I took a sip of my water, my mind racing for an appropriate answer. What was the question again? Dammit. Setting the glass back down, I straightened my shoulders and raised my chin. "Okay. No funny business?"

He chuckled and placed his hand over his heart—his right hand, I suppose, but I was in no shape to tell sides from across the table. "Cross my heart."

Damn, no more excuses. But, do I get any lifelines? I let out a heaving sigh. "Honestly, Eric. I don't know. This is all moving a bit too fast for me."

His smile faded, just a little bit. He stuck the toothpick back in his mouth and pulled out his wallet. I saw my exit and I dashed for it, making my cowardly escape while he busied himself with choosing a plastic form of payment and placing it in the appropriate slot.

"Will you excuse me for a moment, Eric? I have to freshen up."

He nodded without looking up at me, occupied with his task for the moment. "Yeah, I'll be right here."

I was relieved to find that I had the bathroom all to myself. Splashing some water on my face, I stared at myself in the mirror and tried to calm down, but my breath sped up instead.

Yup, I definitely needed to use one of my lifelines. Regis, I'd like to call a friend, please.

I pulled out my phone but my fingers froze before I could text Amelia, and I just stared at my screensaver. I could still remember the insane buzz all over the internet when this picture of EN had first come out—it was for some magazine, and had featured a drenched EN, the water dripping from his lips and stubbly jaw making him extra edible. Well, there was definitely a spike in panty sales that week.

As I drooled over the swoontastic screensaver, realization mowed me over like a gazillion crazy, screaming, preteen twi-hoors at an RPatz sighting. What the hell was I doing? I mean, I had fantasized, like any other self respecting fangirl, of meeting EN. Well, okay, maybe I'd fantasized about an Erikson bro-wich, but hey, they weren't actually real, as much as we all may wish that to be the case.

And now Mr. Nookie himself was asking me to spend a few days with him, and I run to the hills? Why couldn't I say yes? To Eric fucking Northman! And why on earth was I still hiding out in the bathroom?

I took a deep breath, dropping my phone back into my purse and squaring my shoulders. You can do this girl—hell, you've gotta do this. This career opportunity itself was beyond amazing; spending some very up close and personal one-on-one time with EN? Well, that was just icing on the cake. And, I did have an epic sweet tooth.

I let out a heavy sigh as I stared at his back while approaching our table, trying to squelch my nerves.

He smiled sweetly at me when I joined him. "So, where were we?"

But just as I was opening my mouth to speak, the final stake in my coffin of mortification was nailed firmly into place—courtesy of my best bud Amelia, of course.

I'll be there… when your fangs start to show …

Shiiiit.

I knew that the ringtone would only grow louder, so I opened up my purse and reached for the phone. Of course, the next line played even louder, in those horribly long moments before I could find the blasted thing and shut it off.

I'll be there for you, since we're brothers, you know …

My hands seemed to move in slow motion, but finally, I was able to turn the volume onto vibrate.

My cheeks grew ever hotter in the silence that followed. I didn't need to look up to see the smirk that must have been plastered all over Eric's face; I could hear it in his voice.

"So, what ringtone shall we program for me?" When I looked up, his eyes were doing the goddamn river-dance. "I only want to make certain that when I call, you'll know it isn't a prank call."

"Hmm… oh, how about You're So Gay?"

He threw back his head and laughed. "Yeah, I was thinking more along the lines of Paparazzi," he said, and then, to my complete and utter horror, he began to sing. "You know—I'm your biggest fan, I'll follow you until you love me—"

"Do you need a papa-papa-pap-smear?" I sneered, interrupting his little impromptu performance. "Seriously, Eric, I know you were in the video and all, but aren't you embarrassed at all that you actually know the lyrics?"

We both doubled over with laughter.

"Well, I will leave the music selection to you, then." Eric said after our laughter had subsided. "But, I am still waiting for an answer."

"Yeah," I agreed as I wiped the tears from my eyes. He kept his stare on me, raising an eyebrow. I guess I hadn't really made it clear which question I was answering. "I mean, yes. It's a deal. I guess I'd be crazy to say no, right?"

His eyes danced with laughter, but he refrained from answering. "Okay, great. Let me drive you home, then."

I was going to protest, and say that I could call the driver, whom Pam had insisted was at my disposal any time of the day or night—but it was kind of late. Besides, I figured it would be a show of good faith not to put up a fight on this one.

We had just gotten onto the highway when my phone began to vibrate. I rolled my eyes. Damn. The girl was persistent, if nothing else.

I gritted my teeth at the sight of the G Chat popup window. I hated using G Chat on my phone. Amelia was well aware; if I didn't know any better, I'd swear she was doing it to get under my skin. I couldn't help but smile, though, when I saw her one-word plea.

Amelia: Sooooooo???

Ugh. The girl had less than zero patience. I could only imagine how hard it must have been for her to hold out for this long.

Me: On way back now.

The reply was almost instant.

Amelia: And?

I turned to look at EN. He took his eyes off the road for a moment and smiled at me.

"Sorry," I gave him an apologetic grin. "It's just my friend Amelia."

He shrugged and then made a motion with his hand for me to continue as his attention returned to the road.

My lips curled into a smirk, thinking of the perfect way to torture Amelia.

Me: Sitting next to EN now …

Amelia: Aaaaaaand?

Me: Aaaaaaand what?

Amelia is typing … and typing …

Amelia: What's the sit-rep on operation ass pic, hitman?

Oh, crap. I had been putting it off all day … and night. The window of opportunity was closing, and fast.

I quickly typed in my reply.

Me: Just keep your fangirl panties on. Will report when there's something to report.

I sent it off, but then had to bite my lip to prevent myself from cracking up when I thought of a perfect (though super corny) follow-up.

Me: Butt out!

With that, I tossed the phone back into my purse, hoping that she'd take the not-so-subtle hint and back off. Thankfully, she did, and the rest of the ride was spent sans-vibrating interruptions.

I was grateful that Eric didn't try to make any conversation, while I racked my brain for a workable plan. So, you can imagine my relief when he insisted on walking me in. I feigned a weak protest, happy that he didn't go for it.

I dug in my purse for my keys as we began to walk toward the building. My shoulders heaved with a sigh of resignation as I committed to my course of action. Tightening my hands around the keys, I finally looked up, only to be startled by Eric, standing a short distance in front of me. His eyebrows quirked from a look of curiosity.

I smiled to reassure him. "Found 'em," I yelled out a bit too loudly, jingling my newly-acquired treasure in the air with exaggeration before letting them 'accidentally' fly out of my grasp, with what I hoped was a believable, yet not too eager "whoopsies."

I watched the keys sail through the air and land on the ground just past him, thankful that my aim was just right. It was very close though. If he hadn't had super-human reflexes (like the god that he was, of course) and flinched back a little, they would have bonked him straight on the forehead. Whoopsies, indeed.

"Wow, I didn't realize it would be so dangerous to be around you," he quipped, reaching his hand up to scratch at the back of his head in that adorable confused/amused pose of his. I merely grinned my apology and shrugged as I stuck my hand in my purse and grasped the phone tightly, while I waited for him to do the gentlemanly thing and bend down to pick up the keys.

And, with a wink, he bit. Hook, line and sinker. I had my fangirl spy-cam out in the next second, and was able to snap away at just the right moment for optimum ass exposure.

The flash lit up the night. Craaaaaaap.

Feeling the heat instantly coloring my cheeks, I stuffed the phone back in my purse and tried to convince myself it wasn't as noticeable as I thought it was—that it was just nerves coloring my perception. But when I finally dared to look up, I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that there was no such luck. He dangled the prized keys above his head, that familiar smug smirk returning to his lips, making his eyes sparkle even in the darkness of the night. Oh, but this certainly wasn't the innocent sunshine sparkle I had glimpsed earlier. No siree. There was absolutely nothing innocent about him at the moment.

"Well, Sookie, these don't seem so slippery," he purred. "I can only assume then, that it's your hands that are slippery?"

I felt my blush spread to the very tip of my toes. Shit. Shit. Shit. What do I say? What can I say? Damn. Damn. Damn.

He made a tsk, tsk sound as the smirk spread to an all out grin. "Oh, Sookie. Well, I must say—it is a good thing that you're such a talented photographer—you'd never make it as a paparazzi."

He laughed at his own joke entirely too much for my own comfort level. "Hardy har har." I snapped, backing away as he advanced toward me.

Unfortunately, his car was not far behind us. I could practically feel the trap looming upon me; soon I would run out of back-up space, and not having a visual of how much room I had to work with made my pulse race that much more. Suddenly, I felt a very strong kinship to mice.

"Well, come on then ... let's have it," he made a come-hither gesture with his hands, and I cursed myself for all the ways my body betrayed me at the sight of those damn hands. And fingers. Very, very long fingers. Yikes. Yahoo. Yum.

"Uh ... what?" I mumbled, shaking my head to snap myself out of the lust-haze.

And with a dull yet resounding thud, I was finally done for. I pressed myself in utter futility against the car as he drew closer. And closer. And ... even closer. When he tried reaching for my purse, I finally regained my senses. Or voice, at least. "No way, Jose! Keep your grubby little hands off!" Well, not really little, by any means. But, whatever.

He raised a questioning eyebrow, as he placed an arm on each side of me, preventing any hope I'd had of an escape. "Well, Miss Stackhouse," he said, his face only inches from mine. "We certainly do have a problem here."

I swallowed hard, and forced myself to meet his gaze. "We do, Mr. Northman?"

"I would most certainly say so. Well, I can't very well let you keep this picture. These things have a way of getting into the wrong hands, as I'm sure you're aware of."

The silence was static with electricity. The air between us (what little of it there was, that is) was practically humming with it.

"Uh... I suppose you're right. So ... what do you suggest we do about it?" I asked all innocent-like, looking up at him through my lashes, and throwing in the sweetest smile I could muster.

"Yes, that is the question. What shall we do?" He let the question hang in the air until it picked up the requisite drama quotient. "Well, first I suggest that you tell me why you attempted the spy pic. I mean, if you wanted a picture ... all you had to do was ask," he threw in an eyebrow waggle.

I looked down, embarrassment coloring my cheeks an even deeper shade, and ignored his chuckles. The words flew out of my mouth before I could chide myself for my lack of filter. "Uh ... IkindapromisedAmeliaI'dgetabuttshot."

He threw his head back and laughed, his shoulders shaking. I was almost tempted to kick him, and his smug ass, but I was too mesmerized by the delicious view that this vantage point offered of his neck, with his Adam's apple bobbing. So, I just stood there and stared, until he composed himself. His eyes burned into me as he spoke, "Hmm ... well, I may be persuaded to allow you to send a picture to your friend, but not an ass pic. Or, butt shot, as you so adorably put it." he paused for another chuckle, before continuing. "Sorry. No can do. Did you know that there's actually an entire website dedicated to my rear end? Yeah, it's only flattering for the first hundred or so snapshots. After that it just gets creepy."

"Oh, I—I'm sorry. I know that must get—"

He waved his hand dismissively. "Hey, it's a small price to pay. But—if I can prevent them getting their ... what is that saying? grubby, little, hands," he emphasized every word with a significant pause, "on any more ass-porn, then I will. Now, hand over the goods."

Oh, hell. I couldn't very well refuse him. I retrieved my phone and handed it over. I looked down at our feet, the ground—anything, really, to avoid seeing his face as he fiddled around with the phone. I didn't even move from my spot when I felt him shift next to me, so that he was now leaning against the car beside me.

So, I was utterly shocked when I felt a pair of warm, soft lips pressed tightly to my cheek, and, almost blinded when the flash went off a second later.

"What the—" I blinked rapidly, trying to process exactly what I had just been duped into.

He laid his arm around my shoulder as he examined his handiwork. "Ah, now that's much better, don't you think?"

I snatched the phone away from him, ignoring the shit-eating grin on his face.

My mind raced to find some sort of loophole to back out of this. But when my eyes focused on the picture, it was all I could do not to clutch at my chest and let out an audible awwwww. He had captured the kiss perfectly. I was looking almost straight into the camera, all flushed and wide-eyed, while he had his eyes tightly shut, lips pressed to my face. He looked like a sleeping, peaceful, cherubic angel, or, like a little boy who had just had a spoonful of Nutella. There wasn't a trace of any smug, devious gamesmanship, just pure happiness and contentment. It was so sweet—I had to work very hard at keeping my lips from spreading into a cheek-splitting grin.

"So, do we agree that this picture is more suitable?"

I gasped at his breath, so close to my ear, and snapped out of my stupor. "Uh, yeah. Much more suitable," I replied in a still-shaky voice. "Um ... so ... You're okay with me sending this to Amelia? It could very well get in the wrong hands, as you know."

I looked into his eyes as I said these last words, and was met with that sweet choirboy smile again. "Yeah, I'm okay with that. But ... may I?" he reached his hand out to the phone, and I relented with a heavy sigh and gave it up. It was obvious he was up to something, but I didn't have the energy, or inclination, to protest.

His hands flew over the keyboard, as he no doubt looked up Amelia's email. "Now, what shall we say?"

I giggled. Indeed. I, for one, was at a loss for words.

He fingers resumed their frantic movements, and then the telltale tone of Message Sent sounded, before he handed the phone back to me.

My phone started ringing before I even got to my door. I ignored it until I got inside, knowing exactly who it was, and that she would call back. Several times.

When I picked it up on the third call, I made sure to keep it at a safe distance, so as not to damage my eardrums any further.

I was puzzled when all seemed deathly silent on the western front. "Hello?"

"Sookie? What happened? Where were you? I called you like a gazillion times!"

"Ames, chill. I was just walking in."

"Oh. Oh! Holy crap! The picture! He … you …"

After I gave into a fit of giddy giggles, I put her out of her misery, and related the events of the day to her, including the story behind that picture.

"You lucky bitch!"

"Oh, but I haven't gotten to the best part yet, jealous-face!"

Silence.

"Should I continue?" I teased.

"Come on, Sookie. Stop toying with me!"

I snorted, and then went on to tell her about my assignment. The squeals were loud enough to wake up the dead, break any nearby glass, and possibly cause another slip in the Lost timeline.

After she'd settled down, I could practically hear the wheels start spinning, even through the phone. "Oh my god, Sooks! You have to set up a tweet stream for this!"

"A what?" I scoffed. I kinda sorta knew what Twitter was in the most abstract sense of the word. But, I had no idea how it actually worked, nor did I particularly want to figure it out.

"Don't play dumb with me, girl. You know exactly what it is. You're probably the last person on this planet who's holding out on Twitter."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine, Ames, that might be true. But, there's still no way I'm reporting on EN, on Twitter, no less. I don't think he'd like that very much."

"Why don't you ask him, then?"

"What?"

"You heard me, girl. How do you know he won't like it, unless you ask?"

I muttered incoherent, exasperated protests.

"Hey, just look at what following my advice has gotten you so far. Not only did EN kiss you, but he actually gave you photographic evidence!"

Well, she did have a point. Plus, I didn't have the time to argue with her now. It was getting late, and I had agreed to meet with Eric very early tomorrow morning.

I told Amelia I'd think about it , as it was the only way to get off the phone.

I almost didn't notice it. But, as I was about to toss my phone back in my purse, the unfamiliar image caught my eye. Oh. My. God. He'd changed my screen! To the butt shot!

A/N: Oooooh, is Sookie gonna man-up and actually go through with it? And, what is she going to pick for a Twitter name? Oh, I just *shuTTer* at the possibilities. *evil giggles* Go ahead and press that li'l green button and weigh in!

I'm working on the next chapter, but review luuuurve does tend to put a magical lead foot on my typing fingers. Just sayin' ;D

A HUGE thanks to my amazing betas—nycsnowbird and youbettago. They polish up my words with their hawk-beta eyes, and never let me get away with anything! Love ya girls!

Oh, and btw, you can thank youbetta for talking me into sprinkling a little puppy-and-rainbow awww-ness into this chapter. God help me, but that adorkable kiss made me totally giddy. Gah!

Any mistakes remaining are purely my own

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