OOM - Season Four - It's only a kiss
Sep. 3rd, 2017 08:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
onceavikingHe lies down on the cot as he returns, staring off into space.
A little while passes. Then he hears Sookie enter the house. Her soft footfall. Her breathing.
Her pulse.
She hesitates briefly at the door to the hidey-hole and then she opens it and walks carefully down the ladder.
He doesn't say anything.
"This isn't like you." Her voice is soft. Concerned.
"Yes, it is," he mutters.
"No," she says. "It's not. The real Eric -"
He cuts her off. "I am real." Sounding more hurt than he probably should.
"Yes," she says. "You are. I meant the Eric with his memories." Smiling to herself. "Not much gets him down.
Sure, he's a rascal and a troublemaker, and most of the time, I'd like to slap the smile off his face, but he's a happy vampire."
It's funny how Eric Northman always somehow end up sounding almost likable, when she talks about him.
"I'll never swim in the sun again,"" he says, sounding dejected. "Never feel the heat on my skin. Never see the daylight in your hair."
And he looks up at her. And he means it. Every word.
She casts about for something to say. "Well, the nighttime's not so bad. You still got the stars and the sky."
He cuts her off again, looking away. Don't. I'm not a child."
"I wish I knew what to say to make you feel better," she says, realizing that she means it.
But to him, it sounds almost patronizing and he asks, almost despite himself, "You think I'm weak?"
"No," she says, but he doesn't buy it. Not at all.
"You want the Eric who doesn't feel." The monster. The happy monster.
"It's not that," she says, but she sounds feeble, even to her own ears.
He's sitting up now, right net to her. His eyes are really blue when you're this close.
"If you kiss me," he says, leaning in a little, as if to make sure that only she will hear his suggestion.
"I promise to be happy."
"No."
It's a no. It's not a particularly firm no. But then again, she hadn't expected him to say that.
To ask.
"Why?" he says, now with the hint of a smile on his lips. "It's only a kiss."
And then he interrupts himself. "Someone's at your door."
She gets up hurridly, straightening her skirt with suddenly clammy hands. "Don't come up," she says, firmly, before hurrying up the ladder.
A little while passes. Then he hears Sookie enter the house. Her soft footfall. Her breathing.
Her pulse.
She hesitates briefly at the door to the hidey-hole and then she opens it and walks carefully down the ladder.
He doesn't say anything.
"This isn't like you." Her voice is soft. Concerned.
"Yes, it is," he mutters.
"No," she says. "It's not. The real Eric -"
He cuts her off. "I am real." Sounding more hurt than he probably should.
"Yes," she says. "You are. I meant the Eric with his memories." Smiling to herself. "Not much gets him down.
Sure, he's a rascal and a troublemaker, and most of the time, I'd like to slap the smile off his face, but he's a happy vampire."
It's funny how Eric Northman always somehow end up sounding almost likable, when she talks about him.
"I'll never swim in the sun again,"" he says, sounding dejected. "Never feel the heat on my skin. Never see the daylight in your hair."
And he looks up at her. And he means it. Every word.
She casts about for something to say. "Well, the nighttime's not so bad. You still got the stars and the sky."
He cuts her off again, looking away. Don't. I'm not a child."
"I wish I knew what to say to make you feel better," she says, realizing that she means it.
But to him, it sounds almost patronizing and he asks, almost despite himself, "You think I'm weak?"
"No," she says, but he doesn't buy it. Not at all.
"You want the Eric who doesn't feel." The monster. The happy monster.
"It's not that," she says, but she sounds feeble, even to her own ears.
He's sitting up now, right net to her. His eyes are really blue when you're this close.
"If you kiss me," he says, leaning in a little, as if to make sure that only she will hear his suggestion.
"I promise to be happy."
"No."
It's a no. It's not a particularly firm no. But then again, she hadn't expected him to say that.
To ask.
"Why?" he says, now with the hint of a smile on his lips. "It's only a kiss."
And then he interrupts himself. "Someone's at your door."
She gets up hurridly, straightening her skirt with suddenly clammy hands. "Don't come up," she says, firmly, before hurrying up the ladder.
