The three of them made it to the vampire hotel with minutes to spare, entering from the top lobby. Since they hadn't had a car, they'd flown—Eric refusing to let Lucifer hold Bill in his arms, and thus carting the vampire with limited abilities himself. The three of them had gone into the lobby and the outer light-tight double doors and windows had slammed shut ten minutes later as both Bill and Eric stood at the desk, booking last-minute rooms for themselves. Lucifer was informed that when he wanted to leave, he would have to exit from the main floor lobby, as the rooftop lobby was officially closed—except for those coming in during daylight helicopter flights.

"No plans on leaving just yet," Lucifer told the hotel receptionist, giving her a cocky smile as she pushed Eric's hotel room key across the counter. Lucifer grabbed it instead, sliding an arm around Eric's waist to pull him close. She didn't bat an eye, no doubt used to vampires and their decided lack of sexual boundaries. Lucifer had a lot to learn about vampires but Eric had no doubt that he'd find himself really fitting in.

As they went to wait for the elevator, Bill joined them, pocketing his own keycard. They stood in silence for a few moments before Bill finally spoke. "You're free from Shreveport," he told Eric. "I'll deal with the Authority; make sure they don't harass you. I only ask that you find someone to keep Fangtasia running—I'd hate for northern Louisiana to lose its best vampire business just because its owner decided he'd rather be in Los Angeles."

"You couldn't possibly close down your bar," Lucifer agreed, frowning. "Even if you did want to come live with me." He shook his head and when the doors to the elevator trundled open, Lucifer was the first one inside, head down as he seemed to think. Eric and Bill got in, the two vampires flanking the devil, neither one really wanting to stand next to the other.

An awkward silence stretched out as the elevator headed downward.

"I've an idea," Lucifer suddenly said, head lifting up so he could grin at first one vampire and then the other. "We send Maze to Shreveport for a time and have Pamela and Mazikeen run Fangtasia on their own."

"Pam will be pissed if I force her to stay in Shreveport," Eric pointed out.

Lucifer waved a single hand in the air like it wasn't a problem. "She won't complain if I give her Maze to play with, and I can assure you, Viking, they've already determined they play well together. I think Maze would very much appreciate the freedom of not having me around while she gets to know someone new. And giving her the freedom to be in charge? Maze needs a bit of that in her life."

The elevator stopped on the twelfth floor and all three men stepped out into an empty hall.

"I like Lucifer's idea," Bill said. "Obviously Pamela will not replace you as Sheriff—I'll find someone else for that role. But Fangtasia is your business, not the Sheriff's business." He frowned. "I'll also convince the Magistrate to stop skimming off your profits. That's been going on for far too long."

"Skimming," Eric said, a dry sarcastic laugh accompanying the word. "Try taking more than eighty percent of my profits."

Bill's eyes grew wide in surprise. "It's that much?" he asked, floored. "How the hell do you make a living?"

"By being a good little Sheriff when I'm forced to," Eric replied. "Actually, I do make better income with Fangtasia than I ever did when I was renting fucking videos to people. But it didn't feel quite so bad when I was barely breaking even. Eighty percent of nothing is still nothing."

"How on earth do you afford a car like yours when you're being swindled by your own bloody kind?" Lucifer asked, sounding disgusted.

Eric shrugged. "There are other ways to make money that the Authority has no control over," he said. And the V he'd been pushing had been pure profits—the only thing Queen Sophie-Anne had forced him to do with no monetary benefit for the bureaucrats behind the scenes. He still wasn't quite sure why she'd had him doing it—or why Bill never asked him to stop. "I've had a millennia to accrue my net worth."

"I suppose you have," Lucifer mused.

The three men walked down the hall until they came first to Bill's door and then to Eric's. They were neighbours for the day. Swell.

Bill stopped after unlocking his door, half in the hall, half in the room. "I can expect you'll be leaving Shreveport sooner rather than later?" he questioned.

"Why?" Eric asked. "Hoping to keep Sookie all to yourself? She's got herself a lapdog now, haven't you heard?"

Bill snorted with laughter. "Fuck Sookie," he said, his final parting shot as he went into his hotel room and closed the door behind him.

Well, at least they could agree on one thing, Eric decided, finding humour in Bill's words. He opened his own hotel room and ushered the devil inside.

Almost exactly the same as the previous hotel room, Eric was greeted with shades of black, grey, and white. And even though the sun had risen and he was beginning to feel lethargic, he wanted nothing more than to grab Lucifer by the lapels of his wrinkled suit jacket and toss him on the bed. Before he could act upon that urge, Lucifer himself nearly pounced on him, the darker man's hands reaching for his back side to grip his fingers into Eric's ass, his lips rough against Eric's own. "You bloody came to save me," Lucifer said as he broke the kiss for a moment. "No one ever comes to save me."

"That's because you apparently don't need saving," Eric reasoned.

"Absolute shite," Lucifer responded and then kissed him again. "I will always need saving if you need to save me." Another kiss.

Eric's hands were already undoing the buttons on Lucifer's shirt, his body agreeing with Lucifer's at what they should be doing—but his mind was elsewhere. Reluctantly, his fingers stopped their job and he pulled away from Lucifer. The devil frowned, not liking it. But Eric had been reminded that Lucifer had needed saving—at least when the sun had been up and Eric had been dead to the world. "Why did you suddenly succumb to the poison in the air this morning?" he asked. "I watched the security video—you were fine one moment, and the next you weren't."

Lucifer stepped back only to sink down onto the side of the bed, hands clasped between his knees. "They threatened you," he said. "They told me that they had you and that they would stake you if I didn't comply." Lucifer looked up at Eric, anger in his eyes that mixed with fear. "I was scared I'd already lost you," Lucifer admitted. "I do believe it was the fear for you that made me vulnerable. I'd just found you. I couldn't stomach the idea of giving you up."

Fear.

Lucifer had feared for Eric. That had been his downfall. And when he'd woken up, the anger had consumed him, pushing out the fear and giving him his invulnerability back.

No, not fear. Eric knew it wasn't quite right. Not just fear. Fear for Eric, just like love for Eric had allowed the vampire to taste the devil's blood. Here was a man who felt everything tenfold—and he was now feeling everything for Eric tenfold. Those extreme emotions had cost him his immortality just long enough to make him weak. Eric didn't know whether to feel worried that this might happen again or honoured that he was the devil's own weakness.

Rather than think about it too hard, he met the devil on the bed, pushing him into the black bedding and kissing him hard. The length of his body matched Lucifer's, and he pressed himself into the other man, feeling both of their body's come alive at the same time. He wanted this man. This man who feared for Eric's safety so much that it put his own safety in jeopardy. Eric wanted a love like that—and it was his for the taking. Why the hell would he deny himself such heated devotion?

In the early morning hours, as Los Angeles began to wake up—although perhaps it had never been asleep—a vampire and the devil re-found each other after just a brief but intense period apart. Passion crested beneath black silk sheets, and when a pair of softly glowing wings popped into existence to knock the lamps off the bedside tables, the two men chuckled, giving no mind to the glass upon the floor. Why care? Neither had any plans of leaving that bed anytime soon. And when their actions did begin to slow, and they found themselves curled around each other, Eric Northman decided that he was as content as a vampire could ever be.

A sigh escaped him, and he burrowed his head into the hollow of Lucier's neck, breathing deeply of a scent that reminded him of life before the need for blood had consumed his soul. He was exhausted, blood slowly leaking from his ears and the corner's of his eyes as his body begged for the rest only partial death could bring. He'd explained the bleeds to Lucifer as they'd been consumed with each other—but neither man had been willing to give up their exploration just for something as pointless as rest.

But now . . . after enjoying Lucifer's body and everything it had to offer . . . Eric was ready for sleep. He would dream of this man as he fell into the spiral of death, and when he woke, Lucifer would still be beside him. He smiled to himself, eyes closed, as he slowly begin to drift. When Lucifer's hand began to slide through his hair, slicking it back and away from its tousled state, he tried snuggling closer, dreams calling to him through the haze between life and death.

"Viking." The tone was tentative, unsure, and it drew Eric back toward wakefulness. He pulled back to find Lucifer looking at him in the dark, brown eyes almost black in the shadows. The man he loved seemed worried again, uncertain about something.

"Again?" Eric asked, tired enough to consider perhaps saying no—but not really wanting to. Another round with Lucifer, no matter how high the sun rose, just might be worth it.

Lucifer smiled, a silent laugh coming from him. "No, I do believe you need sleep, my Viking. But I was wondering . . ." Lucifer trailed off, a frown caught by his teeth biting into his bottom lip in thought.

Eric didn't say a word, just brought his own hand up so he could feel the roughness of the three days' worth of stubble on Lucifer's jawline. Give it a few more hours and you could call it a beard, it was so thick. He let his thumb trace and retrace the line of the other man's jaw, enjoying the friction it caused.

"Eric," Lucifer tried again, and Eric opened his eyes once more, not having realized they had closed. "I am serious about your coming to Los Angeles," Lucifer said. Again, he was unsure. Eric couldn't fathom why. Why was the devil always so insecure? "I suppose I've put the cart before the horse though, haven't I? Would you like to come to Los Angeles?" Eyebrows knit together in the dark over troubled eyes. "I suppose my loft isn't suitable for you at the moment, but if you decide to come to Los Angeles, I'll have that rectified immediately. Just the one room should suffice, yes? The bedroom, of course. Shouldn't be too hard to get some of these lovely metal shades installed. Could even ask this hotel's manager who to call." Lucifer, it seemed, was rambling. Not quite confident that Eric would say yes.

Eric's hand moved further back, fingers cupping the back of Lucifer's head to draw him in for an intimate kiss. Eric revelled in the heat the man gave off, deciding he looked forward to having a toasty warm bed every night. "Are you asking me to move in with you, Luci?" he asked quietly, even as his eyes shut again and death pulled at the corners of his awareness.

"I suppose I am, yes," Lucifer replied, still sounding worried.

"I gladly accept," Eric told him as his forehead bent to touch Lucifer's on the pillow. "The devil come to save me from the hell-hole that is Shreveport." He smiled to himself. "I'm not sure what I'll do in Los Angeles with no vampire club to run."

"Actually, I've given that some thought," Lucifer said, relief in his voice. Eric couldn't quite open his eyes even though he wanted to. "I thought we could open our own detective agency, Viking. Solve crimes against the supernatural world before the humans mess everything up with their legal system. Mete out punishment the proper way with no one telling us it's not legal or moral."

A chuckle came unbidden to Eric's throat as his mind spun an image of the two of them sitting in an office, their feet up on matching desks. Lucifer with a fedora to match his suit; Eric in leather. Frosted glass on the door with their names emblazoned in gold and black letters. He could picture them solving mysteries together—and going home afterward to make love on the floor because the bed was just too fucking far to get to. Such a lovely dream to sink down into. "Immortal private eyes," he said quietly. "Finding vampires' lost pets up trees and stopping shapeshifters from skinwalking into their own deaths."

"Something like that, yes," Lucifer said, his voice soft with love. "I thought we could call ourselves the North Star Agency."

Eric smiled through the haze of sleep. "Northman and Morningstar. I love it," he barely uttered the words. His final breath sighed out of him and Eric welcomed death with open arms. He spiralled down into the deepest of sleep; into the most beautiful oblivion.

As Eric welcomed sleep, a sense of calm came over him. He knew that when he awoke, Lucifer would still be there, softness against the raw edges that was Eric. Different and alike—and deeply in love together. Two sides to a tarnished coin. Until then, dreams of the devil would have to suffice. They would pale in comparison to the real thing, of course . . .

But Eric would awake the following evening to find Lucifer still in his bed, and he had every intention of ravishing the devil again.

And again.

As many times as he could.

For the rest of eternity.

A final single sentence came to him from the land of the living, as he settled into dreams of warm brown eyes, three-piece suits and perpetual five o'clock shadows.

"Tell me Viking, what is it you truly desire?"

His answer came quick and his answer came short. "Lucifer Morningstar."

Because really—what else could he ever hope to thirst for?

And so ends the love story of Eric Northman and Lucifer Morningstar . . .

Or does it?

While Eric's story comes to a close, I realize I simply can't just let them walk off into the glow of the coming sunrise. Eric Northman and Lucifer Morningstar have more story left in them. They've got a detective agency to open, for heaven's sake! Vampire pets to save and shapeshifters to kick some sense into. And maybe a really important mystery to solve, that just might force them to cross state borders and meet old friends and new alike. Luci's Dad only knows what sort of trouble these two can get up to. So why not write a sequel to a fanfiction I couldn't quite put down? Why freaking not?

Except . . .

Maybe it's Luci's turn to tell the story.

Care to join me one more time?

s/14283334/1/The-Colour-Red-in-a-World-of-Black-and-White

I thank everyone who joined me in this 122,000+ word adventure in which I strived for Eric to get over Sookie and fall in love with someone who deserved him. I couldn't help liken the two men as I binge watched Lucifer and True Blood in succession this past spring, and with some strong encouragement from a handful of friends I decided to see what it would be like if the devil walked into a vampire bar—and asked everyone's favourite Viking vampire what it is he truly desires.

Can you hear him? Hear Lucifer's voice, see the tilt of his head, and the glint of curiosity—and barely suppressed sexuality—in his eyes, the devil glamouring a vampire who hates the fact that he has fucking feelings? Because I do. That scene—it's forever burned into the backs of my eyelids. Because my God, I'd watch every—single—moment—of that story.