**A/N: Well, yeah, it was going to be a one-shot, but then things happened.**
So, three months later Sookie, along with Pam, Karin, Bubba and an amnesiac Were by the name of Collin who she’d literally caught sniffing around in her back yard, managed to successfully free Eric from The Queen Who Had To Buy A Consort. Apparently she was also the only vampire on the planet to actually need deodorant.
Eric was properly thankful for his rescue several times a night, every night, for the past two weeks.
Then one night, he didn’t offer to touch her. At all.
This went on for two nights in a row, so on the third night Sookie asked Eric what was wrong.
“Nothing,” he had replied, his eyes glancing ever so slightly to the left which Sookie knew to be his tell when he was lying.
“Nothing,” she semi-screeched, “I call bullshit, Eric. There’s definitely something wrong, and we can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what it is!”
Eric stood up from the old, slightly musty, living room sofa, made a mental note to purchase more fabric refresher, and rose to his full “I want to be intimidating” height. He reiterated, “Sookie, I said there was nothing wrong, therefore nothing is wrong. I’m going to go to the office.”
With that, he strode out the door and, presumably, flew to his recovered office at Fangtasia…just like he had the night before, as well.
Miffed, pissed off, and burbling with both hurt feelings and indigestion – the chili-cheese dogs she’d had for supper weren’t settling well – Sookie stomped off to the kitchen to make herself an Alka-Seltzer and to pout. Again.
The first two weeks had been so wonderful, she thought, then her cheeks reddened as she remembered reversing their roles at the end of the first week when she made him beg to cum and demanded that he watch her during certain activities. Those, she happily recalled, were some wonderful nights.
They had already even rebonded the first time, too!
She couldn’t imagine what in the hell the trouble could possibly be! She brooded and debated, and then moped as she gave a half-hearted swipe at her kitchen counters. Try as she might, she could not figure out the cause of Eric’s sudden lack of interest in having sex with her.
Yeah, sure, naturally he still sucked down her blood like a starving vampire who, well, sucks down blood, but sex? Nooooo – Eric fucking Northman was just too damn good all of a sudden to have sex with her.
Maybe he was fucking someone else on the side at Fangtasia? Even though she pondered that idea in a fit of pique, she knew he truly hadn’t had the time for that. Up until the night-before-the-night-before-last he had been hers-all-hers-all-hers and in more ways than one. Hell, she had even managed to wear him out a time or three! She had slept incredibly well those days – in fact, she’d slept all the way into the evening just the other day!
It simply did not make any sense!
So, she called Pam. The two had become closer during the planning and implementation of the “Free Eric Plan” as they had ingeniously named their mission to, well, free Eric. While the plan had gone off surprisingly easily, almost boring in its simplicity – discover who the human staff at the palace was, glamour them all to stake The Queen and to not remember who glamoured them, wait patiently – still, the two had become closer friends. Well, closer friends when Pam wasn’t trying to get into her veins or her panties. Or bra.
To preserve the peace and her blood-slash-virtue, Sookie had taken to wearing turtlenecks three sizes too large and old pairs of MC Hammer-esque parachute pants that she’d found at a thrift store. It must have worked because Pam didn’t touch that.
After an unusual four rings, Pam finally answered the phone and it sounded like she was trying not to laugh. Figuring some bloodbag must have done something appropriately stupid, she didn’t bother asking what was going on and chose instead to ask Pam if she had a moment to talk.
“Of course my slippy little friend, I am here,” Pam replied with a barely-straight voice.
“What’s going on over there? You sound like you’re about to crack up,” Sookie promptly asked, wondering what was going on over there. The female vampire never laughed at work, well, unless she laughed over something one of the vermin did, which was often.
“Ohhh, nothing,” came her sing-song reply. “Now, what do you want?”
Tears unexpectedly pricked Sookie’s eyes in the way that unexpected tears can prick eyes unexpectedly. “I don’t know! Something is wrong with Eric and he won’t tell me what it is,” she trailed off on her signature whiny moan.
Managing to keep her snickering to a somewhat Brazilian-waxed bare minimum, Pam cooed, “There, there, Sookie. Seriously, stay over there, you sound as if you are about to leak and I don’t want my new faux seal-skin boots to get wet. Although from what I know of the creatures, they spend a lot of time in the water, although I’ve recently heard they cum on land to mate.”
Sookie looked at the phone in her hand wondering what the hell Pam was on about.
“O…k…,” she said slowly as she tried to make heads or, erm, tales out of what was going on with the normally snarky but stoic vamp. “I wasn’t planning to come over tonight. But, really Pam, do you know what’s going on with Eric?”
“Yes,” she replied succinctly, sealing the deal with a slight hiss. “But before you ask my slappy little Fae-ish friend, I can’t tell you. So don’t ask. My lips are sealed.” Sookie could have sworn she heard Pam stifle a giggle.
“Oh,” came her super-intelligent reply. “Ok. Well, I’ll see you around, then.”
After they disconnected the call, Sookie resumed her sulking and brooding in the kitchen, then made a point to leave some whine languishing in the living room before taking her shower and going to bed.
Realizing that his behavior toward Sookie the past few nights was both unfair and fully explainable, en route to her, their?, her house – he couldn’t ever decide – Eric stopped by a convenience store to pick her up some sort of spur-of-the-moment gift. With a grimace, he eyeballed the plastic roses and the plastic cubes with some sort of picture etched in them, but they were all dusty and shop-worn.
Then he spied the stuffed-toy machine.
Secretly he very much enjoyed testing his reflexes and patience with those horrendous child-caging, “grab a toy with the claw too loosely sprung to actually hold onto the stuffed piece of crap” machines. He never understood why people were so surprised when yet another child would squirm through the hole that the manufacturers knew was just too big but didn’t care to fix, but then, humans these nights made little sense to him.
Of course they were just money-grabbers, but once in a while he would actually “win” one, then promptly throw the offensive object at whichever female cashier happened to be working. It wasn’t like he had room in his life for fake animals.
Immediately he spied the perfect toy he would “win” for his Sookie, and after spending a mere $24.50, with a victorious cry that would have made his father proud – but would have made his mother slap his head – he won!
In seconds he was back in the air, toy clutched securely in his left hand – he used his right to mimic Superman when he was in the air as he had convinced himself that it helped him maintain a straight flight path – with a huge, enormous, gigantic, cheek-splitting grin on his handsome, attractive, gorgeous, good-looking face.
Minutes later, he entered Sookie’s, and his, or whatever, house, calling out, “Ohhh Soooookie….Sooookie, where arrrrre you?”
He listened intently, then, as luck would have it, he figured out that she was already in bed.
Oh well, he thought, might as well return to the scene of the…incident. We really do need to talk about this. Is Lysol still an acceptable douche or did humans finally wise up about putting those kinds of chemicals up a woman’s twat? For once, he hoped not… Lysol in the brown bottle smells so clean…
Hearing Eric calling her name had woke Sookie up, and she was somewhat curious as to why he would come back home so early. Last night he’d stayed at Fang-fucking-tasia until it closed. Tonight he was home a whole half an hour early!
He entered the bedroom just as she was sitting up in the bed. She reached over and turned the lamp on, and saw that he was carrying something plush and a weird gray color, and wearing a shit-eatin’ grin on his handsome, attractive, gorgeous face. His fangs were even peeking out!
“Hey honey,” she greeted as she raised her face for the now-obligatory kiss-(why bother)-peck that so many annoying couples feel obliged to do in lieu of a real greeting.
After performing his duty as the other member of a couple, Eric rose back up to his full height, scanned the bed that Sookie was so innocently still inhabiting, and shuddered.
“Pam said you called the club wanting to know what was wrong with me, correct?”
She nodded, her tears pricking her eyes as tears sometimes do again. She was glad she’d applied clear mascara earlier; tonight seemed like it was headed downhill on a slippery slope. At least Eric finally seemed amenable to talking about whatever the problem was.
“I realize that my completely understandable actions may have felt unfair to you, so I offer you both a clue and an apology gift.” With that, he handed Sookie the stuffed animal he had won for a mere $24.50.
She reached out to accept the toy as she wondered why he would give her a gift obviously meant for a child who didn’t know what a seal was… supposed…… to……… look………… like…………
When she gasped, Eric thought he had never, ever, not in a thousand years, ever seen a sight as funny as the look on her face.
“Eric,” she screeched, “what the hell?”
“That, my beloved, is exactly what I want to ask you.”
“But…but…but…pggghttph!!!” Her incoherent mumblings were annoying even to her.
“His name is Slippy Slappy Sam. By the way, you do know that you sometimes talk in your sleep, right?”
**A/N: There ya have it, folks…Part 2. So, what’d you think?**