Chapter 22 – Semantics

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“You’re far too joyful,” he pointed out. “It’s not like you to be this cheery.”

 

“Hey!” Jason protested. “I damn well make her cheery!”

 

“Shut up, Jason,” Pam growled.

 

With a gulp he responded meekly, “Yes, dear.”

 

“Pam,” Eric toned out sternly. “Out with it.”

 

Her tone fell instantly bright again, and handing over a thick envelope, she said, “You are both cordially invited.”

 

“The wedding?” Eric sighed. “Pam, if you think I’m walking you down the aisle pregn-”

 

She held up her hand, silencing him, “Of course not, Maker mine. Just think of the indecency!”

 

“The what now?” Jason questioned while Eric opened the thick envelope.

 

“He did what?!” Eric cried out in rage, dropping the invitation in Sookie’s lap who looked equally horrified at what the intricate script spelled out. “I don’t care if he’s my Maker, he has no right to do this!”

 

“Eric!” Sookie scolded, though not very happy with the news, she couldn’t ignore the insult to her grandmother.

 

“It’s my fucking company,” he growled in return, surprising Sookie slightly.

 

“Gran wrote a book?” Jason perked up eagerly when Sookie handed the invitation to him. “And she gets her own toy line to go with it? No fair!”

 

“Jas,” Sookie warned, but he barely heard her.

 

“If anyone should get a toy line, it should be me!” he ranted. “What does Gran know about toys anyway? At least I still play with my He-Man collection when it’s bath time-”

 

“Not those kind of toys,” Pam cackled, and when Jason merely stared back dumbly, she added, “You know, the kind of toys we bought last night.”

 

“Oh, those toys,” Jason grinned knowingly before it finally dawned on him, “Wait, what?! Gran… toys? Those kind of toys?”

 

In an offer of solidarity Eric proposed, “I’ll get a stake, you get a shovel.” And with a mere nod that spoke more words than most men ever would, a pact was settled.

 

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“Behave,” Sookie warned lowly. “We’re here to be supportive.”

 

“Fine,” he grumbled. “I’m only here because you made me.”

 

She turned towards him, anger fuelling her eyes. With clenched teeth she continued to inform, “You’re here because it’s your fricking company hosting this shindig! Stop acting like a child just because you and Jason fell for Godric’s trap!”

 

“We didn’t fall for anything!” he denied vehemently. Sookie remained pointedly silent, despite Jason and his embellished retelling of the tall tale that had involved the two hunting down the only copies of the printed books and matching sex toy line to a container in the harbour like special ops with outfits to match, camouflage pink courtesy of Pam, of course, only to find it empty. Godric had soon shown up, bearing a large grin and a slow cap to impress the importance of this launch and that there was little the two of them could do to stop it. Their protestations had only been tempered by the fact that Adele’s book would be published under a pseudonym. The projected sales report had swayed Eric somewhat further while Jason had become transfixed with a set of furry handcuffs.

 

“Whatever,” Sookie sighed. “Just be good. I hate these things.”

 

“Me too!” Eric perked up. “Let’s get out of here! I’ll pretend to be feeling sick. Finally a use for this pregnancy!”

 

“Oh, no, buddy! We’re going in. We’re going to smile for the pictures, eat whatever disgusting lukewarm thing they’re serving, and pretend to have a great time,” she warned. “Besides, ‘feeling sick’ isn’t going to cut it with Gran, even if you are carrying her first great-grandchild. She knows BS when she sees it and even if it was real, she’d still make you go.”

 

By the end of her speech, Sookie appeared even more reluctant to get out of the car to enter the glittery party than he was. “You look beautiful,” he offered, hoping to cheer up. “Especially the tits.”

 

A small smile cracked her face, though trying desperately not to laugh and failing miserably, she pecked him on the lips sweetly careful not to mess up her makeup and stain him in the process, “Just wait till you get some of your own, and you’ll lose all interest in these.”

 

“Never!” he scoffed. “I like them because they’re yours.”

 

Sookie wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, or to the suddenly softened look on his face. Sure, he’d been highly appreciative and complimentary of her body, the tits in particular. That often made her wonder if vampires somehow saw things differently than her since Pam seemed programmed much the same. He liked her well enough, she knew that much, but she always just assumed he liked the tits first and took the rest with it as part of the bargain. “I like yours, too,” she finally managed to stammer before deciding she really needed find a solid wall to bash her head against for the sheer idiocy of the reply. Quickly Sookie moved to get out of the car so she wouldn’t have to witness the hurt and confusion she may have caused.

 

He surprised her by not enquiring further as to what she meant, and linking her arm in his, he simply asked, “So, why do you hate these things?”

 

“What?”

 

“You said you hated these things, I’d like to know why.”

 

She looked up at him by her side, finding him innocuous and sincere, “Well, you’ve witnessed me at these things before. I have to behave, be the good little Faery Princess while constantly being bombarded with how I’m not living up to form by Gran, Niall, and everybody else.” She tapped her head in demonstration at the tail end of the sentence. “There’s a lot of them and it’s difficult to tune it all out. You’d be surprised how many people root for you to fail to feel better about themselves, but all it takes is one really. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. I try my hardest, I fail, and usually end up drinking too much, huddling in a corner with Claude playing ‘guess the thought’ so I don’t get the full brunt of the blame.”

 

“Guess the thought?”

 

“I pick up a stray thought, and Claude then has to guess who it belongs to.”

 

“Sounds fun,” he grinned.

 

“Sure,” she replied suspiciously, knowing exactly how stupid it sounded. “Probably won’t be allowed to anymore. I’ll be expected to play the good little wife from now on.”

 

“You don’t have to play.”

 

“I know I don’t have to play, but it’s the only bit of fun I ever had at these things, no matter how lame it sounds.”

 

“I meant you don’t have to play ‘the good little wife’,” he corrected. “You are a good wife. And little. Except the tits, obviously.”

 

“Sure,” she retorted disbelievingly.

 

“Well, you’re a terrible cleaner,” he acknowledged, “but that’s what maids are for.”

 

“Asshole,” she smiled, swatting his chest half-heartedly, his mock outrage only further loosening the stance of her lips, and without thought she added, “Love you, too.” Her eyes widened in horror. What was wrong with her brain to mouth function tonight? It was way too soon to be saying anything of the sort, never mind be feeling it! She sprang from his arms, practically running in the deeply uncomfortable heels and dress towards the entrance of the party venue, crying out, “Oh, God!” only to find herself crashing into the tall form she was running from, seemingly forgetting about their respective supernatural powers. He regarded her with complete confusion as she tried her best to wiggle free from his hold.

 

“Sookie! What did I do?”

 

“You didn’t do anything!” she yelled back, tears threatening to release themselves, despite her iron clad will.

 

“Was I supposed to say it, too? Did I miss something?”

 

She calmed somewhat at the sight of guilt on his face when this was of her making, “No, it’s my fault. All of it, I never should have said it.”

 

“Why?” he asked, becoming more confused by the second.

 

“It’s too soon, it’s too strange, it’s not right, it’s forcing something from you that’s maybe not there,” she tried to explain. “Take your pick. It’s all sorts of wrong.”

 

“Humans,” he scoffed.

 

It was her turn to be confused now, “What?”

 

“Humans, since the invention of the Romantic Period to be exact,” he adjusted. “Far too much value is placed in that word. And far too many stupid movies about it, Pam’s a real fan.”

 

“But-”

 

“You’re my wife, I’m your husband. We live together. We’re having a baby together. We like being around each other, well, most of the time. We have fantastic sex. Don’t be afraid to feel what you feel, whatever it is. Why should a word make that more or less?”

 

“I don’t even know if that’s what I feel,” she confessed. “It just sort of slipped out.”

 

“That’s okay, too,” he smiled, pleased to see her calm down and compose herself with a deep breath. “Especially when it’s my cock out of these trousers, those tablecloths cover a multitude of sins. A blowjob would be nice, a hand-job if you feel it to be less conspicuous.”

 

“Eric!” she gasped, his tone leaving little indication as to whether he was serious or simply joking, most likely a mixture of both.

 

“If you weren’t wearing those ridiculous Spanx you insisted on wearing, I’d happily return the favour, fair play and all,” he replied in all seriousness. “Don’t worry, you’ll get seen to once we get home.”

 

His closing grin assured her he was most likely joking, and once he offered his arm again to link hers into, she remarked, “We don’t live together you know, you just won’t leave.”

 

“Semantics,” he scoffed.

 

Her free hand came to rest on his forearm, causing him to slow his step. “You called it home.”

 

“So I did,” he replied, not quite catching on to her meaning.

 

“You called it home,” Sookie repeated. “Our home.”

 

“Despite not being a native, I’ve been speaking English for longer than you have, Sookie, and I used the correct word.”

 

“Yes,” she replied with a smile. “You did.”

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“Semantics,” she explained. He could only regard her with continued confusion in response. “It’s too soon and it’s messy enough as it is. A part of me thinks it’s just being pragmatic, but for now this is what I feel. I want it to be your home, our home. I want you to move in. Officially.”

 

“Semantics,” he grinned. “You catch on quick. What makes it official?”

 

“You bring over some of your stuff, we argue over home decor,” she shrugged.

 

He rolled his eyes, “Exciting.”

 

She smirked, “We have sex in every single room and on every surface imaginable.”

 

That managed to stop him in his already slowing track, “I think we should buy a house, a very large house with many, many, rooms. I like the sound of this ‘official’ business.”

 

“Thought you would,” she grinned. “Not so dismissive of semantics now, are we?”

 

“Point,” he conceded, caressing her cheek with his thumb lightly he added with little thought, “Love you too, too.”

   

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A/N: Much thanks to msbuffy as ever. I know it’s a little shorter than usual but sweet nonetheless. Anyone interested in an Eric and Jason outtake in pink camouflage? I love you all too, too 😀 (especially when you do the like and comment thingy below 😉 )