Chapter 5 – A Sixpence in Your Shoe

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“Make her not drunk,” Eric demanded, shoving Sookie in his direction.

 

Claude shrugged momentarily while backing into the room. “Your mess, you clean it. Bathroom’s over there.”

 

Eric wanted to curse out that this mess was Sookie’s own making, but there were only so many minutes in an hour, and Pam would have his head if any blemish were to ruin her perfect wedding. Annoyed, he stepped in while Claude continued to overtly ogle him from every angle. “Just toss her in the tub and if you need anything cleaning,” he leered with a hint of tongue. “I’ll be happy to help.”

 

A warning growl was emitted before he unceremoniously let Sookie fall into the tub with a curse word or two as a torrential rain of cold water submerged along with the cries of protest while his firm hand held her in place, face spluttering against the liquid onslaught. He had to grin at that, for an extended period of time, until his natural enemies came to the surface again, pointy and hard. Fucking tits.

 

“I need something from Claude,” he offered as a poor excuse not to further drool over said enemies that were presenting themselves through the thin fabric of her dress, not to mention the jiggling movements they were making due to her body’s fight against his hold. The door was shut on her with little aplomb, and despite the extreme cold that had reduced her to shivers, she wore the biggest grin since the news of her brother’s nuptials.

 

“Like candy from a baby,” Sookie whispered out at her mirror’s image while towelling off the cold water. She carefully peeked into the room and saw all was going to plan as Claude was on his path of seduction from which no living man, straight or not, could ever veer. A snigger and a ‘pop’ later she was back in her room, relieved to find her Gran there before she set to get ready for the night ahead. After a brief and decidedly warm shower, she slipped into something red. It had nothing to do with the fact that blue dress was the same shade as a certain Viking vampire’s eyes. Nothing whatsoever.

 

Take that, Eric Northman!

 

---

 

 

“Pamela,” Eric sighed. It was a very deep sigh since, as ever, it was exceptionally hard to stay mad at her when she was in front of him. This was one of the main reasons he had taken so quickly to the invention of the telephone. He had liked the Internet even better, emails were the best way to reprimand Pam and revoke her spending abilities with the single click of a button.

 

“Yes, Maker mine?” Eyelashes batted, disturbing his intentions at yelling at her once more for the crazy series of circumstances in which he found himself, indulging in weird faery flirtations with that giant ass of a Claude to erase the memory of a very wet Sookie in the bathroom mere steps away. Eric had to admit, it had been extremely effective at shrinking that pesky erection to something all the more manageable. He was, however, beginning to hate those tits with a passion he didn’t know he previously possessed, and he was a fucking passionate vampire.

 

He finally settled on, “You look beautiful.”

 

Admittedly she did look beautiful, despite the ridiculous get up and cathedral veil that shrouded her, although that had never been news to Eric. It was part of her initial lure, but her independent spirit and disregard for society and its conventions had been what consolidated that she would become his Childe. She suited him as an eternal companion, unshrouded by romantic notions, and was simply a great addition to his pride.

 

Her preening face fell as she came to sense his hesitation and contemplative inner turmoil. “If you don’t approve, I’ll…”

 

He shook his head, stilling her movement away from him, “Pamela, is this what you want?”

 

She was silent for a while before she managed to reach his eyes again and speak earnestly, “It was supposed to be a bit of fun, but I kind of do want this.”

 

Eric couldn’t help but chuckle at her embarrassment over that confession before taking her in his arms and kissing the top of her head, “Than I want it for you, too. You could do worse than a Brigant.”

 

“You mean it?” she whispered ever so softly.

 

“Of course. Here,” he said while placing a small medallion in her hand.

 

“What is it?” she gushed while examining the new trinket and with that, Eric knew Pam would indeed be in good hands, Jason was shiny and new, and Pam lived for that next moment in time for the excitement to begin. He was old news to her now and somehow that was okay.

 

“A sixpence for your shoe. Or if you’d rather monetise it a lot of shoes,” he said knowingly. “It belonged to a Royal I once ate, made me think of you.”

 

“That’s,” she stuttered, her face stuck in one of question, “so… sweet?” Suddenly tears were pricking at the corner of her eyes. With horror, she yelled, “Eric I’m leaking!”

 

He shook his head admonishingly before dabbing away at the blood stains before they could ruin the carefully applied face of make-up. “You still look beautiful, even if you cry.”

 

“I don’t cry,” she huffed petulantly to which he could only answer with poorly contained laughter. Quick to change the subject, she made him the subject of interrogation, “You still haven’t answered what’s been eating away at you.”

 

“Tits.”

 

“Tits? Do tell,” she grinned while positioning her veil just right.

 

“Faery tits,” he groaned before reclining on the chaise longue with an exasperation that ill fitted the otherwise magnanimous Viking vampire.

 

Pam purred with delight while she eyed her Maker more carefully, “You’ve fallen under Faery Tits’ spell, haven’t you?” she cackled, “Should I toss my bouquet in her direction?”

 

“Fuck, no!” he growled, suddenly standing perfectly erect in front of her, “I fucking hate her!” Had his blood still retained the ability to boil, Pam was certain he would have burst right then and there.

 

“Keep telling yourself that,” she tittered while straightening his bow tie and brushing her hands over the lapels of his suit while falling to that characteristic bored tone, “You can walk me down the aisle now.”

 

---

 

“We have a problem,” Sookie nervously informed, wiggling back and forth on the balls of her feet as she did so. The very tall Viking vampire did not look pleased, nor did his meticulously wrapped-up Childe. The only one who seemed to take it well was Godric, perhaps a little too well. The small vampire had yet to make the beatific smile on his face disappear since she met him. Which was nice and all, except that it stood in direct correlation to her Gran and those were thoughts she didn’t ever want to resume contemplating since they had been spending a LOT of time together and were sitting far too close for her liking when she arrived at the wedding venue. There had been touching, and consequently there had been bile rising from the pit of her stomach that was already raw from her interactions with the tall menace in front of her.

 

“What kind of problem?” Eric demanded in a low tone that was accompanied by the impatient glare of Pam from the extravagant vintage and pink Rolls Royce.

 

“Wecan’tfindJason,” she mumbled almost incoherently.

 

“You will fix this now!” Eric demanded, his Maker only interceding in time to pull the poor messenger, Sookie, from the ground by the flimsy straps of her dress. The warning glare from Godric was accompanied by a pointed look towards the reality show cameras that were documenting their every move. Quickly he asserted himself, bringing his rage to some modicum of calm. He cleared his throat before offering genteelly, “Let me help you find him.”

 

She nearly laughed out loud with how insincere his sincerity was. “How you made it to a thousand with those acting skills is beyond me,” she taunted with a shake of her head, causing Godric immense pleasure in seeing his progeny taken down a notch by the feisty faery. “You will stay with her,” Eric implored his Maker with a gesture towards Pam, while desperately ignoring the laughter at his expense and with the affirming nod, he whisked Sookie off her feet with incredible speed to leave the intrusive camera crew behind.

 

“How can he just disappear?” Eric demanded while she found her balance after the sudden gust of induced vertigo.

 

“He just did, OK?!” she yelled, “And until you swooped me away I was working on it!”

 

Eric scoffed audibly while her arms came up to cross over her heaving chest. “It was that camera crew and their producer,” she pointed out. “I was listening.”

 

“Explain.”

 

“Hoyt told me he had to do a quick interview and the producer started working on Jason’s insecurities,” she explained, muttering along, “It’s a miracle he has any, but they kept pointing out how wrong it could all be and it worked. They offered to take him somewhere else, being a runaway groom makes for better television.”

 

“Where did they take him?”

 

“I was about to find out, and then you brought me here!”

 

“We’ll just have to glamour it out of them,” he shrugged. “That telepathy of yours really is useless.”

 

“You wouldn’t even know where to start without that kernel of information,” she argued with a hint of superiority.

 

“Point,” he conceded begrudgingly. “Let’s go.”

 

“Get your hands of me!” she screamed when he prepared to take her in his arms again to fly them back to the camera crew.

 

“Fine,” he ground out when the heaving of her chest had stopped mesmerising him, spurting him into action again. “I don’t need you anyway.”

 

“Fucking asshole!” she screamed after the trace of him in the wind.

 

 

---

 

 

“Fucking asshole!” he bellowed out while seamlessly removing the door from its hinges with one well-placed thrust. His nostrils flared, the smell of Jason Stackhouse was all over the room along with the putrid smell of fear and nerves. However, instead of finding the little weasel sweating as expected, the faint hint of his sister was discernible. Eric had never seen Sookie’s handwriting, but one glance at the note and he knew it could only be hers. Although he wouldn’t put it past Jason to own such loopy handwriting either, the message though was clearly hers.

 

We’ll save you some cake…

 

He briefly contemplated a scenario of stuffing that monstrosity, because, well, Pam, of a cake down her throat till she choked on it. Of course, a heaving chest managed to distract him in that scenario too…

 

“Eric, I have not seen you this distracted since long ago.”

 

He looked down with a startle, the gentle voice of his Maker pulling him from his reverie.

 

“Pam is impatient as ever,” he offered in explanation. “We are all waiting on the Father of the Bride.”

 

Eric eyed him warily with the sound of that particular title, but gave a curt nod before speeding after him.

 

Of course, she stood there, waiting for him at the top of the stone staircase, tapping her foot impatiently, arms crossed, and pushing up those tits as he eased his speed. “Didn’t need me, huh?” she gloated. “How useless would you say that telepathy is now?”

 

Watching the cool standoff between the two, Godric, the eternal peacemaker, quickly rested a calming hand on each, assuring, “You have proved quite capable, my dear, but Eric must be getting to Pam as I am sure you must be seeing to your Jason.”

 

Her nose wrinkled slightly in irritation for not being awarded her victory from the smug vampire, and instead having to adhere to her better graces in front of Godric. No doubt her Gran would be scolding her over this. As it all transpired over the features of her face, Eric couldn’t help but grin smugly before she caved and made a polite sentence of agreement, muttering something about a real ‘Daddy’s Boy’ as she stomped off in a huff.

 

“I approve,” Godric grinned with a pat to Eric’s shoulder, the steps in the staircase allowing him to even out the difference in their heights for once. “It seems it’s not just Pam who has found her match.”

 

He balked, looking at his Maker with utter horror, “I want nothing to do with her. Ever. Again.”

 

Godric eyed him sceptically, knowing his Childe probably far better than himself, so the confession Eric muttered gave him little surprise, “I may want something to do with her tits.”

 

“Keep telling yourself that,” he chuckled. “Adele is already busy planning the next nuptials.”

 

“I am glad we amuse you so,” Eric replied sarcastically, soon to be interrupted by Pam.

 

“I’m glad you took your merry little time,” Pam grit out acerbically.

 

“Tut,” Godric said with a shake of his head. “You always enjoy being, what do you call it, ‘Fashionably Late’?”

 

“True,” she grinned with a feral smile. “Though that’s usually by my choosing.”

 

“You are going to enjoy being married very much,” Godric smiled before placing a soft kiss to her forehead. “It’ll all be your choosing from here on out.”

 

“If the Stackhouse boy has enough sense, which is disputable,” Eric mumbled under his breath that didn’t escape his Maker’s attention or reprimanding glare. An apology, half-hearted of course, was uttered while he set to move Pam’s veil in place, shrouding her partially from view. He was about to commend her as his personal pride and joy once more, their bond flooding with the emotion that was otherwise so tightly held.

 

“Tissue!” she screamed and bridesmaid number five was quick to divert the leak.

 

Pam took a large breath, the likes of which she couldn’t ever remember taking, cautiously looking up at the reassuring eyes of her Maker before the doors would open and she would see the man she was to marry for the first time. Sensing her need for reassurance, Eric offered her the best advice he could give, “Go knock ‘em dead.”

 

>

 

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A/N: I hope you liked, I always enjoy reading the comments on this cough, hint, hint, cough. So the question is now, who will come out on top next time… or is it bottom?

 

Much thanks to msbuffy as ever!