A/N: Hello my lovelies! Yes, yes, here it is. The final chapter … until the sequel, that is! As per your kind and numerous requests, I have included a nice long sneak peek for the 1st chapter of the sequel at the bottom.

Just a head's up: this chapter will make a WHOLE lot more sense if you refresh your memory and skim through chapter 3 (Double Exposure). It has been a really long time since I posted it :)

A gazillon thanks to my amazing betas, nycsnowbird and youbettago. Y'all are just the best the bestest beta's a girl could ever wish upon a fanfic star for!

*blows Nutella kissies*

As always, any mistakes remaining are purely my own. And, of course, I do not own any rights to the characters in SVM or the HBO series True Blood.

EPILOGUE: PHOTO FINISH

And I'm getting the picture
Yeah I'm getting the picture

"Getting the Picture"

~Jimmy Buffett

I woke up in my new favorite place to do so—in Eric's arms.

Well, he was more sprawled all over me than anything else—with an arm thrown across me and a leg between my own. Same difference. I enjoyed a stretch and the view before realization struck me; the film I'd developed last night had to be dry by now, and ready for printing.

I couldn't wait to develop these photos, and nothing—not even the gorgeousness of EN's sleeping form, could stop me. Stealing one last glance at his utter perfection, I slipped from his grasp. His half-conscious whimpers of protest were hard to resist, but somehow I managed. After throwing on the first clean clothes I could get my hands on—which just happened to be a pair of draw-string lounge pants and my Team Vamp T-shirt—I grabbed a large mug of coffee and headed to the studio.

Hey, what can I say? I wasn't one to change for a man, even one as persuasive as Eric Northman. When it came to Fiends, it was no competition—I was still Team Vamp all the way.

^V^

In the green light of the darkroom, losing myself in a trance induced by the hypnotic rhythm of ticking timers and thumping trays, I still could not believe that this was really my life. It just sounded too much like a ridiculous fangirl daydream—too far-fetched even for a Hollywood movie.

I was going to be starting on my second professional photography gig next week. After my first client was more than satisfied with my (professional!) work, and after Pam had seen the photographs for herself, she informed me—with her typical smug swagger, I might add—that she could easily find me more gigs if I was interested. Her exact words, in fact, were "as many as my little heart desired". I have to admit, I didn't quite believe her, until she called me the next day to schedule my next job.

Or, 'pencil it in', as the L.A. term for it was, I guess. If I was going to be staying here, I should probably learn to speak the lingo.

At Pam's insistence, I was going to be staying at the loft for the duration of my time in L.A., with a darkroom at my disposal that was pretty much every photographer's wet dream.

Oh, and did I mention that as of this moment, EN was sleeping in the next room?

I tried to focus on the image that slowly emerged from the paper in front of me, photographic proof that I wasn't really dreaming.

Instead, as EN's award-winning ass formed shape on the paper, I was instantly carried away to the moment I'd finally gotten my butt shot.

The first time I'd woken up to find Eric in the bed beside me, a few days ago, I just couldn't resist the opportunity to take a snapshot. He simply looked so delicious—sprawled out on his back with his golden hair fanned all around him, the pink silk sheet tangled around his legs, reaching up to his waist and accentuating that mouthwatering V of his. Yums.

Plus, the camera was right there within my reach, on my nightstand.

So I sneaked out of the bed and took a picture. Of course, as soon as the shutter clicked, his eyes fluttered open. When his eyes finally managed to focus, he fixed me with that famous EN smirk.

I lowered the camera, meeting his eyes with a shy smile. "Mornin' sleepy-head."

"It is now," he purred in a voice husky with sleep, stretching his arms above his head. His mischievous grin was downright devilish as my eyes involuntarily followed the sheet's downward descent. "Don't stop on account of me, lover."

I swear to god, he purred. He didn't speak—he purred like a goddamn kitten. A sex kitten. Ugh. I was so screwed when it came to this man. Kitten. Whatever.

I wasn't sure if it was my mouth or my head that had stopped working, but my eyes were too damn busy to care much about figuring out the details of the malfunction.

He turned to his side, the sheet dropping even further to reveal his entirely naked backside. "Don't you think we're on buttshot terms already?" he winked at me over his shoulder before turning away with a chuckle.

Well if you insist … don't mind if I do.

And now, staring at the resulting image … I was certainly glad that I took him up on his cheeky offer.

Two very warm, very large hands woke me from my reverie as they latched onto my hips. Before I could even fully process what was happening, I felt one arm wrap around my waist as the other hand gathered my hair and pulled it aside, clearing the path for one deliciously stubbly chin to nestle into the crook of my neck.

Why was this so sickeningly familiar? I shut my eyes tight, silently praying to the god of all porntastically swoonalicious fangirl fantasies that this was not a dream.

"Mmm …" his husky moan vibrated all over me—inside and out. "Looks like you got a good shot, lover."

His hot breath against my ear robbed me of all remaining brain function, resulting in a strangled half-moan-half-grunt of agreement from me.

His soft chuckle made the shivers travel all the way down to my ever-traitorous hootchie, and I swear to god—the damn thing twitched. Yes, all the man had to do was breath on me, and he gave me a goddamn hootchie-twitch.

Was that like the female equivalent of an erection? I wondered.

After his quaking—as well as my own—died away, he continued in that sexy-as-all-hell husky sleep-drenched voice of his, "I am quite pleased that I couldcontribute to the Visual Aids file."

My eyes shot open. So he had looked inside my Toibocks; I had always suspected he might have. Sneaky little fiend. Er, well … not so little, but you know what I mean.

"Me too," I finally managed to reply. "This one will definitely have to go to the top of the pile."

Oh, he definitely liked that answer. I could tell, both from his appreciative laughter, as well as his very insistent Mr. Happy, poking its smile into my backside. In fact, I might have to change that name to Mr. Ecstatic. Heck, maybe even Mr. Cloud Nine.

He trailed his hands along my arms, stopping when he reached my own hands, enclosing them with his own. I leaned into him, no longer able, or even wanting, to support my own body weight.

"So how much longer?" he breathed against my skin.

Huh. I was just wondering the same thing. I mean, I'd been shocked when I first saw, and felt, the sheer size of him, but now … was it possible that he could grow even larger? Was this a morning thing? Well good morning to me, indeed.

"Lover?"

"Oh! Yeah. Um … I think it's ready." As am I, my Viking. As. Am. I.

The loud buzzing of the timer seconded my call, much to my chagrin.

I reached over to turn it off, pushing my butt out and using Eric's lap as leverage and even throwing in a little wiggle. The string of curses that my move elicited put a big ol' grin on my face, one which I couldn't resist turning toward him. I caught a glimpse of his gorgeous profile and that golden hair, so close to my own color, especially with the new matching highlights, as I whispered a quick and admittedly somewhat smug "thanks" before returning my attention to the task at hand .

As I picked up the tongs, I was thrown a bit off guard when Eric did not relinquish his hold on my hand. Instead, our hands remained fused together as I fished the photo out and held it over the tray, letting the excess fluid drip off.

"Now what?"

Staring at a picture of my own personal Viking sex god—in all his naked glory—while having said sex god wrapped around me, pressing and rubbing and breathing all over me … well, it wasn't very conducive to keeping my voice in working order, not to mention my panties. I swallowed hard a few times, trying to somehow provide enough moisture for my voice not to totally crack. Which was fine, because I needed the time to figure out the damn answer.

Reaching over to set the timer, I managed to explain what the next step was in the development process as we submerged the picture and began to rock the tray together.

"Mmm …." he purred into my neck, nuzzling as he matched the rhythm of our hands with his hips. "I do love watching you work."

I moaned, my head rolling back into his chest as I gave myself up to the heavenly sensations, matching his movements with shameless grinding of my own. "Just another thing we have in common, I guess … though, I'm definitely not the only one who enjoys watching you hard at work."

Hardy har har. Two could play at this game, mister.

He made a sound that could only be described as a feral growl. I could hear as well as feel it, rumbling from his chest to his throat, before his teeth found my ear and tugged. Not too hard, but just hard enough to make me almost lose it. The torturous flicking of his tongue that followed did not help the situation much. Well, at least I had a nice steady counter in front of me, the better to hold onto.

Saved by the bell again. Or was I ? I wasn't so sure I really wanted saving.

He groaned against me, releasing me as he went to shut it off. Whimpering at the loss of him, I decided to keep myself occupied and walked over to hang the photo on the clothespin line that already held several others.

Suddenly, my feet no longer touched the ground. I let out a squeal before bursting into fits of giggles, as Eric bear-hugged me from the back and lifted me up, burying his head into my hair. Flipping me around, he wrapped my legs around his waist, and I mirrored the motion with my hands clasped around his neck.

He pressed his forehead to mine, grinning at me from ear to ear. It was the kind of grin that sucked in all the light and air and space into it, becoming the only thing you could see; the kind that you didn't even realize you were returning until your cheeks were hurting. He looked behind me, scanning the row of photos and then returned to rest his forehead on mine, his lips mere fractions of an inch from my own. Even that distance was unbearable to me, but when I tried to do something about it, he held me off with a playful nip.

After my giddy giggles died down a little, he whispered, "Enjoying the view?"

"Mmmhmm …." I grazed my lips against his, tangling my fingers in his hair as I all but lost myself in his eyes. "Tremendously."

We stared at each other for one of those infinite, dreamy fractions of a second, but when our lips met I lost all sense of where we were or where I ended and he began; one moment, all I knew was hot tongues and probing lips and searing, overwhelming heat … and the next, I found myself slammed hard against a wall—for the second time in less than a week.

Not that I was complaining.

Warm, soft lips and rough whiskers traced the line of my jaw and neck, mirroring the descending path of his hands along my waist, when suddenly, everything just stopped.

He leaned his cheek against mine as his hands traveled hesitantly along the waistband of my pants, pausing halfway toward the center, where he hooked two fingers just inside. Then, he began to rub his cheek against mine. Like … a kitten? I was half-expecting him to start all-out purring, but he just kept going like he was, and I was enjoying the coarse tickling of his stubble far too much to do anything to stop him.

"Sookie?"

His voice was soft yet demanding, but he hadn't stopped rubbing our cheeks together. He did, however, begin to move his fingers back and forth—inside my pants and against my skin, as if asking as much with his hands as with his voice.

"Eric?" I wasn't sure what he was asking of me, but I was willing to bet that my answer would not be even remotely related to no.

"Is there a dress code in your darkroom?"

"Huh?" I drew back from him, my mind still trying to turn over where the hell that question had come from, when I noticed what he was wearing.

Well, he wasn't wearing much—and he wore it well. In fact, the only thing he had on was a pair of very snug plaid boxers. And when I say snug, I mean … Yikes. Yahoo. Yuuuums.

"Why? Did you want to know if, uh … plaid was acceptable?" I couldn't stifle the laughter that bubbled out of me.

The man had an undeniable obsession with plaid. Not that I was complaining, seeing as how delicious he always managed to make it look.

"No. Plaid is always more than acceptable," he scoffed, as if it was too preposterous to even pose that question. "Especially on me."

I sighed heavily, throwing a hand over my forehead for effect. "As much as it pains me to feed your already overstuffed ego, Mr. Northman, I would have to agree with you there."

My eyes travelled south to his plaid-clad ass with undisguised hunger.

"Well, then, Miss Stackhouse … I believe that only leaves us with one little problem, then."

"And that would be?" I replied without so much as budging my eyes from the prize.

Hey, you know the saying. I wasn't normally one to believe in old wives' tales, but I also wasn't taking any chances.

"In my opinion, you are entirely too overdressed."

And with that, he made quick work of our 'little problem'. He set me down, slipped off my pants and dropped to his knees before I could say Team Human. All. The. Damn. Way.

Running his hands up my thighs, he hitched one leg over his shoulder and looked up at me with a sweet-as-Nutella smile. "Now isn't that much more comfortable?"

He punctuated his words by palming an ass cheek in each hand and squeezing, before using his newly acquired leverage to open me up to him.

All I could do was moan and nod in not-so-silent assent.

He nuzzled into the ultra sensitive skin of my inner thigh, hanging on to me tightly to still my trembling. When he started to rub his lips in an excruciatingly slow upward path, I had to grab onto his shoulders to brace myself.

"Mmm … yes. Much better," his breath was hot and delicious against me. "I do so love it when I'm right."

At this point, I was beyond words, beyond cares. I just clutched my hands around him tighter and waited.

I didn't have to wait very long.

I felt his breath on my most sensitive spot a mere instant before his very talented mouth descended on it.

And if I thought his mouth was talented—well, it paled in comparison to his tongue.

In fact, as he reduced me to whimpers and shivers of ecstasy, the only remaining brain function I had left was suddenly devoted to thinking that EN's tongue definitely needed its own Twitter identity, if it didn't already have one. Or, at least one of those Facebook fan pages—it was entirely too talented not to be worshiped by the adoring masses. Even though, I was really hoping that at least for the near future, said tongue would be worshipping me. Exclusively.

But, as my mind and body began to melt into a puddle of blissed-out goo under his attentions, the eerie feeling of déjà-vu hit me all at once, like a ton of bricks.

This was entirely too familiar.

As the realization struck me, I sucked in a terror-stricken breath, my whole body growing stiff. And so not in a good way.

Apparently, Eric felt it too. He looked up at me, confusion twisting at his mouth and brows. "What is it, min älskare?"

I scanned his face, looking for something, anything … nothing, really. What could I say? Pinch me? I had a feeling that where he would pinch—well, it wouldn't make me want to wake up from this fantasy any more, that's for sure.

"I … uh …." I stammered, biting down on my lower lip as I stroked his hair, his face, anything I could lay my hands on. When I brushed my thumb against his lips, still slick from feasting on me, he closed his hand around mine and pressed it to his mouth, his eyes pleading for the answer I had yet to provide.

Cocking my head to the side, I finally managed to blurt out, "Uh … you don't feel like singing all of a sudden, do you?"

As time stalled, his face was the picture of color me confuddled. That is, until he broke out into the most devilish grin. "Would you like me to sing for you, lover?"

"NO!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, causing that worried creasing of his brows to reappear. I smoothed it out with an opposing motion of my thumbs, giving him a small, embarrassed smile in apology. "Please, no singing."

I let out the nervous energy that was bottled up inside me with a little laugh that was probably borderline manic, and bent down to brush my lips against his brow. When he looked up at me with nothing but adoration in his eyes and a tender smile on his lips, I had to brace myself against that blessed wall, digging my fingers into the muscles of his shoulders to anchor myself.

It seemed that I was finally getting the picture.

"Never mind," I murmured, shaking my head definitively.

With a devious grin of my own, I wove my fingers through his hair, tugging it back a little to meet his eyes before nudging his head back toward me, to that spot he'd just abandoned between my legs. "You just keep on working that Viking magic of yours."

Only his tongue answered me.

He, apparently, had no problem getting the picture.

A/N: *sniffles* And thus ends the first installment of the Hollywood hunk with a heart of gold, and his giggly, shrugging fangirl photographer … in all their Nutella-lovin', plaid-clad goodness.

Was that a collective awww I heard? Please don't be shy now! Click that little green button and let me know what you thought of my very first foray into the AH world.

I just have to say that I have adored each and every alert, favorite, (but especially!) review. I am flattered beyond words at how many of you have fallen for these two adorkable ones as much as I have ;p

One last thing before I leave you to enjoy the sequel tease … just a couple quick shout outs to my Tweetmuses. This chapter was inspired by Missus T, who was ever insistent on these two returning to the darkroom to, er … finish what they started; My plaid-avenger, A-Redhead-Thing, who wisely managed to point out that if this chapter was not wrapped in a nice n' shiny plaid bow, well … it just wouldn't be right; and, Lubadub. Uh … well … *shifty eyes* I don't need to elaborate. You know exactly what part you played ;D

And now … your teaser:

Six months later …

"You ready?"

"Be right there," I called out as I grabbed the shaving kit from the top shelf where I had stored it away after the last time I'd had to use it.

I headed toward the bathroom with a satisfied grin. I had signed the deal to do Recon Two—the sequel to the military mini-series I had done a few years back—about a month ago. When I'd mentioned it all nonchalant-like to Sookie, I didn't need to remind her of the little deal we'd struck just over six months ago. It was more than apparent by the smirk on her face and the hooding of her eyes that she remembered that night as clearly as I did—when I had teased her that the only way I would commit to the sequel would be if she herself would cut my hair.

She was leaning over the tub, her ass peeking out at me from under the oversized plaid shirt she had on—that would be my plaid shirt, thank you very much. But damn, if it didn't look a hell of a lot better on her.

"Mmmm … lover," I whispered. "When you bend over like that, I just wanna ..."

The water she flicked at me did absolutely nothing to cool me down.

"I was just making sure the water was the right temperature, lover." She called over her shoulder with a playful eye roll before turning back to shut the water off and wiggling her luscious ass playfully.

My pants were on the floor before you could say negligent discharge.

I was at her side in the next instant. "May I?"

She stepped aside to let me in.

She had been taking full advantage of my long hair all week, knowing it would be her last chance to grope and pull and wrap her hands around it for a while. And now, if the predatory look in her eyes were any indication, she was definitely planning on enjoying her last opportunity to wash it before cutting it all off.

Oh, I did love bath time, especially when my Sookie was involved.

Rub a dub dub, indeed.

^V^

I was sitting like a good little boy in the chair she'd prepared for me out on the balcony, naked from the waist up, as per instructions. Shit, this was going to be the most thoroughly enjoyable haircut of my life … I didn't mind being on my best behavior. For now.

So, I sat perfectly still and waited.

Moments later, I could just barely feel her pressed against my back as she tipped my head forward and began to comb out the tangles in my hair. Her breath was barely a whisper beside me, but the intoxicating scent that was just purely her was overwhelming.

I closed my eyes and let myself enjoy the pleasure of her scent surrounding me as the sun warmed my skin, her soft curves teasing at my back while her fingers worked through my hair.

I almost laughed out loud when I figured out what she was doing; she was braiding my hair. She tied it off and moved in front of me, smoothing down the stray hairs before taking my chin in her hand and turning my head this way and that. Finally, she tipped my chin to face her and met my eyes.

"Mmm . . .." she moaned appreciatively and leaned in, claiming my lips with hers.

She separated from me entirely too soon, and I groaned in protest. Placing my hands at the curve where her hips met the curve of her waist, I stopped her retreat and whispered into her lips, "I'd have to agree with you there, lover."

She let out one of those adorable fucking giggles that made me all warm on the damn insides, and trolloped around me.

She held onto the braid with one hand as she cut it off. After setting it down, she began to snip away at the rest of my hair, cutting it fairly close to my head but not too close.

I was happier than ever that we'd agreed to a semi-short cut before the full-on marine buzz cut that my role required. This way, I had a good month to go still before I went totally short, and, of course, it would take Sookie that much longer to cut my hair, since she couldn't just shave it all off. Any excuse to have her hands in my hair and her body so close to mine was pure fucking win.

Speaking of that hot little body, she had now circled around me. The sun silhouetted her, making her hair glow like spun-gold around her. She was too focused on trimming my hair to notice anything else, so I took full advantage and feasted on the sight in front of me. She was wearing my favorite plaid shirt, and had only two of the most strategic buttons done, so that it gaped most fortuitously at her more than ample chest. It was almost falling off of one shoulder, revealing the deep caramel skin at the curve of her neck … and polka dots. My favorite polka dots, in fact. The halter strap of her fuckhot bikini—white with red polka dots—plunged down, revealing plump and perky tits just above where my view was obstructed by the shirt.

Damn traitorous shirt.

I'd never hated plaid so much in my entire life.

I let my gaze travel down to where the bottom of my shirt hit her at mid-thigh, down shapely legs in the same perfect caramel tan that just begged to be licked, all the way down to … what the fuck? My eyes shot up to hers and the devious grin that spread all the way from her lopsided grin to her eyes almost pushed me over the edge. She was wearing the hottest pair of fuck-me-shoes, all strappy and do-me-hard, and … fuuuuck. She was also wearing a similar fuck-me expression on her face.

Shit. She knew exactly what she was doing, and now it was apparent that she delighted in knowing that I knew she knew.

She just winked at me and moved around to my other side, continuing her circle of seduction. Fuck. Shit. And fuckety fuck.

I could hear her smug little snickers, before she seemed to return her full attention to the task at hand. She continued on in silence, returning to my back and cutting my hair more closely. A few minutes later, I heard the buzz of the shaver and then felt it at the nape of my neck. She tilted my head forward and began to run the blade along my head. But as she stepped closer and leaned forward, our bodies made contact.

The buzzing of the shaver faded away from my consciousness, and all I could focus on were the places our bodies touched—hot and soft and fuck.

I smirked when I realized that she was obviously enjoying this just as much as I was, since I could feel her press even closer to me—much more closely than was necessary. She switched off the razor, but remained exactly as she was for a moment longer, rubbing her hand against my newly shaved hair. Her labored breathing and the lapping of the waves against the shore were the only sounds.

"How's it look back there?" I asked, my voice husky with desire.

"Perfect," she breathed.

She pulled away from my with a heavy sigh and started working on my left side before circling around to the other side. And then, she returned to stand in front of me, examining her work.

Hoisting the shirt up, she revealed the bikini bottom along with a sliver of smooth, golden belly before retrieving the comb that she had stowed away there—she had used her bikini bottom like a damn gun holster.

She was going to be the death of me … of that I was certain. Ah well, at least I'd die a happy man. A very happy man.

I met her eyes and smiled up at her as she ran the comb through my hair, but when she lowered her hand to put away the comb again, my hand shot out, circling around her wrist to stop her.

"May I have the honors, min älskare?"

Her grin was devilishly delicious. "Oh, by all means …."

She even lifted up the shirt for me. How very obliging.

Yes, plaid and polka dots, flannel and lycra … we were certainly developing a love-hate relationship. She did look downright edible in them … but not as good as she looked out of them. Though, to their credit (and may they rest in peace) I was going to enjoy ripping them off. Tremendously.

P.S. Soooo … did y'all likey? BTW, I'm still thinking of a title for the sequel. Think you have a good one? Tell me in your review! If I choose yours, I'll send ya a pre-screen of all chapters when I start posting the sequel :)

P.P.S. Oh, and if you're worried about FStop withdrawal, I am working on an Ames/RayRay FStop outtake with youbettago ... just sayin' ;D