Eric and Lucifer never left the dais.
It got late.
Then it got very late.
Lucifer kept moving his chair until they were side by side. With Eric's throne being the main throne, Eric was higher up than Lucifer, giving him a new perspective on the man. Of his cheekbones, for instance. And those thick, black eyelashes that framed the eyes Eric was absolutely, positively in love with. He simply couldn't stop glancing at him.
Every time a fangbanger tried to approach the throne, Eric would growl a warning. He wasn't going to share. Nor did he want to be shared.
Not tonight. Not yet.
Despite the fact that both of them seemed to understand where they stood, Lucifer was tentative, clearly worried that Eric would lash out at him if he tried to return their relationship to what it was before Eric had flown off in a vampiric tantrum. Eric was trying to figure out how to tell Lucifer that he was nearly desperate to finish what they'd started while he was in Los Angeles, but he couldn't quite figure out how.
This was Lucifer, the man who delighted in the spotlight. He thrived on attention, clearly loving grand gestures—not just acting on them, but receiving them, if Eric guessed correctly. Lucifer craved acceptance. Affection. Affirmation.
Eric had an idea but he really didn't like it.
But Lucifer would . . .
Of course, that was if Eric could gather the courage to do what he thought would work best. Well, it wasn't so much courage, as opposed to getting the bad taste of it out of his mouth. No, this certainly wasn't something he wanted to willingly do.
He was contemplating the idea, determining precisely what he would need to do it, but still keeping an eye on Pam, Tara, and Maze. Maze, surprisingly, had ended up behind the bar—helping mix drinks and clearly asking questions about the Tru Blood. Pam had even shown her how to mix a Tru Blood cocktail, which Eric thought amusing. Pam herself never drank those—she was like Eric, always drinking from a fresh source. Never that shit in a bottle.
Midnight had come and gone. They were edging toward closing time and people were pairing off and leaving the bar before Last Call—or simply leaving to go find a bar where there was no such thing as last call. But both Pam and Eric had wanted at least part of their nights free from managing Fangtasia, and because patrons could continue to party elsewhere until morning, it made Last Call and clean up much easier to deal with. And the accidental bites didn't happen until it was closer to the sunrise anyway—somewhere else and no longer Fangtasia's problem. All around, the best business decision they'd made.
With so few patrons left, Eric knew he was going to have to act on his stupid idea shortly—and at least there'd be very few who would see him pull it off. Enough people to make Lucifer happy, but not enough that Eric would ruin his reputation as the badass of Shreveport. And when Sookie finally seemed to decide she had tortured Alcide enough by forcing the werewolf to spend his night in Eric's bar, another layer of unease began to slip away.
Of course, Sookie couldn't just leave the bar. No, she had to come over and tell Eric she was leaving. Or snoop on the fact that he'd been sitting on his throne all night with another man at his side—a man that she didn't know. A nervous looking, well-dressed man who didn't seem to know where he stood with the vampire. Clearly there were no pressing mysteries or threats in her life if she was spending her time at Fangtasia—she must be bored out of her mind if she kept fucking bothering him.
Alcide did not come with her when she approached the dais. Instead, the Were stood by the door, waiting for her to leave, arms crossed and a frown on his face. Sookie, on the other hand, had a smile a mile wide as she approached, a look of curiosity in her warm brown eyes. "Eric, who's your friend?" she asked brightly, trying to go for stupid waitress as she turned her bright smile on Lucifer. Eric knew better. He'd known her long enough and loved her strong enough to know she was smart as a whip and had a take-no-shit attitude if you crossed her.
Lucifer leaned forward, sticking a hand out to shake hers. "I'm Lucifer Morningstar," he said, giving her a charming smile in return. Lucifer knew this was Sookie, but he didn't know the full story about Sookie. Like how the shit always seemed to hit the fan when she was around. Or that she had special fairy powers that made her unique and quite useful at times.
"Ooh, aren't you exotic!" Sookie exclaimed, clearly enamoured with Lucifer's British accent and designer clothes.
This made Lucifer's grin widen and his eyes light up with mischief. "You have no idea, my dear," he nearly purred at her.
"We don't flirt with this one, Luci," Eric said, not enjoying the saucy look on Lucifer's face. Not this one. Please, not with Sookie. "Sookie is with Alcide now." He gestured toward the door where the big man stood.
"Oh. Well. My apologies, Viking," Lucifer said, pulling back from Sookie's exuberant handshake.
"How do you know Eric?" Sookie asked, looking between the two of them. "I've never seen you before."
"Are you still trying to babysit me?" Eric asked. "Didn't I say I was fine?"
"You said that yesterday—and then you freaked out," Sookie pointed out. "So excuse me for not quite believing you."
Lucifer stopped studying Sookie to lean back and look at Eric. "Freaked out?" he asked.
Eric growled, not wanting Lucifer to know what he'd done. Or how he'd been behaving since getting back from Los Angeles. "I didn't freak out," he grumbled. "I was pissed off."
"Oh, well, I've seen that before, haven't I?" Lucifer asked. "With Detective Douche."
"Something like that," Eric agreed.
"Well, I can hardly blame you on that. I can't stand him either half the time." Lucifer briefly touched Eric's arm, telling him he understood acting out when he was upset. But he quickly pulled back, seeming unsure if Eric would appreciate the touch. Eric frowned, wishing Lucifer would understand that everything was fine. Finer than fine, really.
Sookie cocked her head and narrowed her eyes at Lucifer, as if trying to assess the man and who he was in Eric's life. When her eyes grew round and she began to blush, Eric realized she wasn't just studying the man, she was trying to read his mind.
Eric couldn't hide the humour in his voice when he accused her. "Sookie," Eric said, almost chuckling. "Are you invading someone's privacy?" It was more than that, though—if she looked that embarrassed, Lucifer was having very specific thoughts. Which meant . . . well, which meant Eric definitely had to show Lucifer just what the devil meant to him.
Sookie's entire body language changed, and she sort of turned herself at an angle away from Lucifer as if that could hide the fact that she was hissing at Eric. "Eric!" she failed miserably at whispering. It seemed she thought she knew a secret about Lucifer—which made Eric reasonably sure he knew precisely what Lucifer was thinking. She also seemed to think Eric might not like the secret—how wrong could she get?
"I appear to be missing something, aren't I?" Lucifer asked.
"I never did tell you she could read people's thoughts, did I?" Eric mused, reaching out to a place a hand on Lucifer's knee, a silent gesture to Sookie that the devil belonged to him. "I don't suppose you're thinking of me, are you?"
"And if I am?" Lucifer asked primly.
"Well, I suspect you just taught Sookie a lesson about snooping. Haven't your friends told you to not listen in on their minds? I thought you were better than that," Eric admonished Sookie, enjoying the moment far more than he should.
"But Eric!" Sookie hissed again, clearly not getting the point.
When Lucifer tried to put a hand over Eric's, Eric grabbed it and brought it to his lips, eyes never leaving Sookie. "I think your mutt is waiting for you," Eric said. "Why don't you run along?" He gestured with one hand, wiggling his fingers toward the door and Alcide. It felt good, reestablishing their previous relationship—one where neither one was treading on the other's personal life. Business associates. Much easier to deal with. Maybe she'd stop coming to his bar to fucking check up on him.
Sookie looked offended at having been dismissed, but Eric could see the light dancing in Lucifer's eyes at the entire encounter and he was far more interested in looking at Lucifer than the blonde waitress. Eric might not have said it in words, but he'd just told Sookie—the Sookie that had started this whole mess—that he had moved on and had claimed Lucifer as his own. If she couldn't take the hint and go, it wasn't his problem.
She stared at him for a moment longer and then turned on a heel and headed across the bar toward Alcide and the night beyond the door, head held high. Eric got the impression that she wasn't happy with Eric—perhaps she'd wanted him to mourn their relationship longer?
Eric wasn't in the mood for dissecting Sookie's actions though. She was finally leaving the bar, Alcide giving Eric a single serious glance before following her outside and into the night. Eric had more pressing matters at hand, including showing Lucifer just how important he was. And now that he knew Lucifer was having thoughts. Well. He had to.
Eric stood from his throne, finally letting Lucifer's hand go. "Stay here," he told the devil. "I've got something I need to do."
"Are you certain?" Lucifer asked, beginning to stand. "I'm happy to help with whatever you need to do."
"No," Eric said quickly. A firm hand against Lucifer's shoulder had the other man sinking back into his chair. Lucifer looked up at him with concern in those brown eyes.
Yes, after seeing Sookie's and looking at Lucifer's, Eric knew they were nothing alike. Sookie had warm brown eyes, and she had certainly looked at him with love and concern at times. But Lucifer's eyes were different. There was love and concern, but there was a need there that had always been missing in Sookie's. Ultimately, Sookie could always take or leave Eric. It had always been that way and her quick jump to werewolves and Alcide Herveaux was proof of it. With Lucifer, it was different—even with the two weeks with no communication. Lucifer had a great need—and Eric was adamant he would fill it.
Barring the problem of Chloe Decker, Eric knew Lucifer wouldn't casually toss him aside and find someone new within weeks, if not days. And even Chloe might not be as much of a problem as he initially thought. Considering Lucifer had left Los Angeles and his precious Detective behind in order to come to Eric. And not just to get his damn car.
"You stay right here," Eric told Lucifer. "I won't be long. Promise."
Lucifer sat back into his chair, watching Eric as he backed off the dais and headed toward the Personnel door. But when he looked back, he found Lucifer settling into Eric's larger throne and he smiled to himself. Yes, Lucifer certainly looked good right there. He belonged on that throne, far more than Eric did. He was the actual Prince of Darkness, after all.
Feeling a sickening mix of both anticipation and distaste, Eric slipped into the back hall and headed past his office and the locked door that led down to the basement. At the far end of the hall was a door that was hardly ever opened. Certainly not in the last few years, anyway. It was a storage room where old, broken, and awkward items went to die. Eric opened the door and flicked the light switch, standing in the doorway as the fluorescents blinked to life after months without touch.
This room had been gathering dusty items for decades now, so while there were two broken microwaves, a stack of uncomfortable chairs they'd never found a way to use, and even a sign advertising TRU BLOOD SERVED HERE, there were far more physical memories of the movie rental place he and Pam had run since the 80s. Cardboard cutouts for Charlie's Angels and the original Terminator movie stood against one wall, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Cameron Diaz staring at Eric while Drew and Lucy faced the wall, long forgotten by Pam.
An old soda vending machine sat in one corner, a box of rolled up movie posters next to it. In the opposite corner stood a commercial popcorn maker, with a box of unused and expired popping corn packages sitting on top. There was a stack of four boxes, all of which contained the porn that they'd rented out from the back room—having not known what to do with it when it had been time to close down the rental store. It had seemed wrong to toss it out; why throw out perfectly good porn?
Next to the stack of porn were a few more boxes, some holding CDs and others holding video games. A shelving unit contained a collection of video game consoles and accessories from the few years before vampires came out of the coffin. As their video rental store struggled to survive in a world that offered a Redbox in every Walmart entryway and cheap streaming services from the comfort of your own home, Eric and Pam had tried offering unique rental options that could keep their business afloat. There was an entire collection of Rock Band instruments back here, gathering dust next to the various Wii remote accessories that people had found interesting and fun to borrow for a few days.
Truth be told, he and Pam had used the Wii in recent years. It was fun to play a video game now and then.
But it wasn't a video game console Eric had come back here to search for. And certainly not the cardboard cutouts and movie posters. No, what he was looking for sat on the shelf next to the well-used Wii, gathering dust since the moment it had been retired back here. The karaoke machine with it's small box of CDs and microphones.
Eric sighed just looking at it. He didn't particularly want to do this. He did not sing, just as he didn't have feelings. Eric was a serious vampire with a specific persona to uphold. He did not sing karaoke. He glowered and sneered and told people off. Sing? Not for a hundred years. But for Lucifer? For Lucifer to understand that someone actually gave a fuck about him and wasn't just putting up with him?
Eric took the small box of CDs and opened it. Rifling through it, the embarrassment that was forming a ball in his gut seemed to triple. There was nothing good in here—Backstreet Boys, Bon Jovi, Alan Jackson. Good Lord, who the hell in their right mind would sing Meatloaf? He was about to rethink his idea when he finally spotted the CD full of barely acceptable music he could maybe, potentially, sing—if he was willing to.
He perused the playlist and saw a song he thought he'd be willing to do.
And sighed.
Well, fuck.
He was going to do this, wasn't he?
He tossed the box of karaoke mix CDs back onto the shelf, picked up one of the corded mics, and grabbed the machine by its portable handle. Turning, he stalked out of the room, trying to ignore Arnold's unimpressed stare.
When he came back out into the bar proper, the DJ had stopped playing and was packing up to go. Perfect fucking timing. Hating himself and what he was about to do, Eric went to the bar and slammed the karaoke machine down upon it right in front of the blender they used to make fruity beverages—not that anyone ever asked for something fruity. But just in case. Eric unplugged the blender, swapping out plugs for the karaoke machine. He swiped a hand across the top of the machine, dust billowing up to settle against the counter instead. Uncomfortable with everything about this, he stabbed at the open button and the tray slid out, begging for not just one disc, but up to three.
The jewel case cracked when he opened it with a bit too much tension in his hands. Growling at himself, he popped the CD out with a bit more care and then placed it in the machine. If he broke this CD he'd be left with nothing but shitty, embarrassing music, and he couldn't have that. Another stab at the button and the machine closed and began to chug. Eric looked up, counting how many people were about to witness the debasing of Eric Northman, Viking, vampire, club owner, and all around bad guy.
Pam, Tara, and Maze were at a table, leaving the bar unmanned as they seemed intent on getting to know each other. Maze had out a blade and was dancing it between her fingers, and Pam was bobbing one stilettoed foot in the air in time with Maze's moves. Ginger was cleaning tables down and putting chairs up. The DJ was just leaving, and there was one other vampire in the bar with a handful of humans that were fawning over him.
And Lucifer, looking right at home in Eric's throne on the dais, hands on the arms, legs crossed, and surveying the almost empty bar like it was his kingdom. He was beautiful there, the nervous, unsure look on his face marring what Eric saw as near perfection.
It was that uncertainty between them that made Eric cue up the song, plug the mic's jack into the machine and do something he never thought he'd ever do. He leaned up against the bar, ignored the tiny screen that offered him lyrics to read, and looked directly at the devil as an intro of drums and guitars began to play out of the karaoke machine's shitty speakers. Annoyed at the sound quality, he jacked the volume until it could at least be heard, even if it was still tinny as fuck. It certainly caught Lucifer's attention—and everyone else's in the bar, too.
Oh dear God, Pam was never, ever going to let him forget this happened.
A good twenty seconds of intro passed before Eric began to sing. Well, not quite sing. Rather, he ground the words out—but when you were singing Radiohead, muttering, whining, and incoherency were par for the course. He didn't mean to exude angsty, angry vampire, but the scowl on his face, coupled with the song Creep, certainly transformed him from grouchy Viking to lovesick vamp in a human heartbeat.
"When you were here before; couldn't look you in the eye . . . You're just like an angel. . ." He closed his eyes then, zeroing in on the lyrics he'd known since the 90s. It was often played as a slow song at the end of a night in Fangtasia, if the DJ was feeling particularly romantic. And before that . . . well, what vampire didn't listen to alternative rock?
With his eyes closed, he couldn't tell how many people were staring at him in shock. He knew Pam was staring. And Ginger. But then, when was Ginger not staring? Nothing new there. As he continued to sing the song, he wondered what she thought about this? If he was anyone's god, it was Ginger's. That woman had an unhealthy obsession with him, even through all the glamours they'd cast upon her. To see him doing this? Would it ruin her opinion of him?
Oddly enough, as he continued to sing, the act of it came easier and when the guitars kicked it up a notch, he found himself completely invested. He was a creep. He was a fucking weirdo. Of course he was; he was a vampire that was in love with the damned devil. How could he not be? His eyes flashed back open to see Lucifer standing on the dais, no longer sitting like a king in the throne but staring at Eric in open-mouthed surprise.
He couldn't help himself. He took a few steps forward, only to be stopped by the tug of the microphone's wire. He stood at the edge of the karaoke machine's tether, feeling bold and stupid at the same time, refusing to break eye contact with Lucifer. It was, quite frankly, a turn on to be staring the man down while singing a song about longing for him. Surprising, that.
Lucifer stepped off the dais, the look of surprise having turned to one of wicked delight.
Eric's voice cracked when he reached the line about wanting a perfect soul, and damn if it didn't make the song sound better. He didn't need to add emotion when he sang, "I want you to notice when I'm not around." He'd been thinking it for two fucking weeks.
Lucifer moved toward him, and Eric's grip on the microphone tightened. He could feel the plastic and metal protesting between his fingers but he couldn't help it. When he reached the bridge that kept repeating the word run, he half expected Lucifer to change his mind and do just that. Lucifer didn't though, although the light in his eyes dimmed for a fraction of a second. He was thinking the same damn thing, Eric realized.
He tried to move forward again, to prove to Lucifer that he wouldn't run away again, almost resulting in the machine sliding off the bar. He stopped in time before it crashed to the floor, his voice turning into a growl with his displeasure. He repeated "You're so fuckin' special; I wish I was special," one final time, the growl accentuating the point being made. Then he was back to the refrain, repeating himself over and over about not belonging as the music faded out, leaving Fangtasia in a dead silence.
Good God, he's just sang a fucking song to Lucifer. If it had been anyone else, he would have felt pathetic. But the light in Lucifer's eyes told him he'd done the exact right thing to put Lucifer's insecurities at ease. And perhaps that made all the difference between cringe-worthy and affirming—whether it would make the person happy.
He lowered mic and stared at Lucifer, not knowing what to do next except that he desperately wanted to kiss the man.
Lucifer reached Eric and shook his head. "Viking, I do believe you just serenaded me."
"Don't expect it to happen again," Eric growled out, doing his best to pretend he was in a foul mood for having done it. But he wasn't. He wasn't at all.
Lucifer took one single step more, getting in Eric's personal space, giving off a heat that Eric could feel. "Don't ever think you're not special," Lucifer said, the shine of his eyes telling Eric he was serious.
Lucifer closed the final bit of space between them, hand reaching up and to the back of Eric's head. He pulled Eric close. The mic's jack popped out of the karaoke machine, the cheap thing still grasped in Eric's hand as he willingly crossed that last foot of space. The next song was already playing, hard drums and angry guitar to some angsty song from the early 90s, the soundtrack to this single perfect moment.
The devil kissed the vampire—and everything righted itself in Eric's mind.
Ah, yes.
Eric was happy.
Eric was in love.
Well, I hope you cringed just as much as I did while writing this. Just as much as Eric did while he did it. While this is something that most definitely would not happen in the True Blood universe, it's something that would happen in the Lucifer universe—and I really needed Eric to cross that threshold for Lucifer. To go from serious to ridiculous, at least just for a single moment.
Now, let's get back to the story. ^_^