Erik Northman (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
onceaviking) wrote2014-09-27 11:16 am
onceaviking) wrote2014-09-27 11:16 am
OOM - Beware of Swedes bearing gifts
Eric is slowly loosing his patience.
He's been parked here for several minutes now and someone still hasn't made an appearance.
It will rather ruin the effect if he has to actually walk up to that sad little shed and drag Lafayette out of it. So he honks again and tries to will the man to actually react.
He's got to be home. The light is on.
And it's not the only thing that has been lit up, judging from the smell.
He sighs.
And then finally something stirs.
He turns a little in the seat, running his hand across the leather upholstery.
Then he raises his hand and gives Lafayette a small, almost coy,three-fingered wave.
He's been parked here for several minutes now and someone still hasn't made an appearance.
It will rather ruin the effect if he has to actually walk up to that sad little shed and drag Lafayette out of it. So he honks again and tries to will the man to actually react.
He's got to be home. The light is on.
And it's not the only thing that has been lit up, judging from the smell.
He sighs.
And then finally something stirs.
He turns a little in the seat, running his hand across the leather upholstery.
Then he raises his hand and gives Lafayette a small, almost coy,three-fingered wave.
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"God, this muhfuckah--," he gripes under his breath as he ties his robe and hustles down the steps.
Why. Why it gotta be Eric Northman for. Just why. Because really, there's gotta be a joke in this somewhere.
He hopes to all the gods and goddesses that the only things Eric can smell on him is weed and fear, 'cause ain't no sexual tension up in here. No sir.
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"Hello, sweetheart," he says, smirking just a little. It's hard judging his mood, just from looking at his face. He might seem mostly amused, really. Watching Lafayette squirm.
He reaches over to pad the passenger seat.
"Hop in."
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Oh, he did not just call him--
Fuck no. Fuck fuck fuck goddammit and fuck.
Really? Really?
Lafayette avoids Eric's eyes, and his entire face, really, as he reluctantly takes the invitation to sit in the passenger seat. He makes himself as small as possible, almost cringing against the door.
He hasn't been able to sell all the V Pam gave him. So he supposes an explanation is in order. Best to give one before Eric demands one.
"Listen," he pleads, thumping the armrest for emphasis. "Listen, I moved what I could, but even at half-off, that shit is still expensive. I'm gonna need some more time."
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"Relax," he says, drawing the word out, letting it end on an almost breathy note. "You'll ruin your new ride."
One of his eyebrows move up. Just a little. Almost like a physical "You with me?"
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"...Huh?"
He draws his hands away from the leather upholstery. And this time, he does turn to look at Eric, confused.
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"She's been under a lot of pressure lately," he continues.
Which must qualify for understatement of the year. Others might not realize it, but he can feel the tension in her. Everything's just amplifying everything else. The Queen, Compton disappearing, the weres. The silver eyed psycopath at Milkiways. One thing after another, and even if she isn't fully aware of the complications, he knows that she is picking up on his tension too.
"I thought it'd be a good time for a small gift to my - uhm - top salesman."
Softspoken. Reasonable. As a contrast to Eric in the dungeon, here is Eric, the entrepreneur.
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Lafayette eyes him with a wary sidelong look.
"What's the catch?"
Because there's always gotta be a catch.
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"I'm not an idiot."
Really now. Is this the time to look gift horses in the mouth, Lafayette?
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Well.
That's reasonable.
But he still looks very, very uncertain about this whole thing. Getting a gift from a vampire doesn't happen every day. Plus, the word 'generous' ain't exactly the first thing that comes to mind in regards to Eric.
Still...
It's a fucking sweet ride.
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He looks back at Lafayette and dangles the keys over his hand.
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Goddamn, he never figured Eric to be so...practical.
He stares at the keys for a moment and finds his palm opening up to catch them.
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He will never understand why people settle.
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Lafayette turns the keys over in his fingers, wondering why Eric is really giving (essentially) this car to him. A bribe. An incentive to keep selling. Something to keep him indebted.
Just because Eric's doing this don't suddenly make him a nice guy. And it certainly don't make up for three weeks in his dungeon.
"I ain't takin' on no more of your shit," he mutters, still looking at him askance. After he sells off this batch of V, that is it.
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You don't let humans talk back like that.
And yet, he finds himself so - something - with Lafayette.
Annoyed perhaps.
"You have great value, Lafayette," he finds himself saying. Insistently.
And he is a valuable tool for Eric. There can be no doubt about that.
"You're discreet, efficient, and you have a network of loyal customers with enormous disposable income.You could become quite wealthy if you wanted to."
Still quietly intense and insistent.
And he tells himself that he is merely trying to protect his investment. That a loyal Lafayette will be an asset even if Sophie-Ann realizes that the V business isn't for her.
Even though one might wonder why he doesn't just glamour him and get it over with?
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(His heart rate picks up in a spike of fear. Not arousal. Not arousal, goddammit. Never mind that his toes are curling in his slippers.)
But he swallows hard.
He's adamant about this.
"I don't need no more money."
It's said softly, not out of defiance or disrespect. Just...he's tired of it. And the trouble that it gets him into.
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"No? I never thought of you as lacking in ambition," he replies.
"But perhaps you're content with moth-eaten afghans and secondhand furniture."
It's a statement, not a question. But perhaps it will elicit some form of useful response.
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But this is sweet, sweet ride. Nothing wrong with showing off.
And maybe he could eventually replace his ratty afghans, but he'll keep his vintage furniture. Vintage.
And...there's his mama to support. Those bills don't pay themselves.
If Eric can be practical about this, why can't he?
Finally, he replies as noncommittal as possible:
"I'll think about it."
Somehow, Eric might know that his answer will be yes. After all, the car keys are still in his hand.
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Then he says, "Don't make me wait too long."
Offers like these do come with an expiration date. And as much as he can see the value in Lafayette, he'll sever all ties if it comes to that.
It's not like humans matter to him.
He gets out of the car, all long legs and firm ass and tight, tight jeans, saying, "You can owe me the dollar."
And then he is gone.
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And Lafayette totally does not check out Eric's ass when he gets out of the car, and totally does not notice the hem of his shirt rising a half inch to expose a sliver of bare skin in the process. No, he totally does not.
He looks back down at the car keys in his hand. And he runs his fingertips along a seam of smooth, buttery leather.
He sighs.
Everybody does have a price.