Sookie Stackhouse (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
justsookie) wrote2015-05-12 06:08 pm
justsookie) wrote2015-05-12 06:08 pm
Entry tags:
memories like embers keep us
When Sookie had returned to her apartment the evening after first discovering that Jason had vanished, she had very carefully prepared herself for bed. Stepped in the shower, mind unfocused and movements aimless, letting the hot water run over her body until she was pink from the heat of it. She had slipped quietly under her sheets, leaned over to her nightstand, making sure to set an alarm for the next day.
She was going into Semele's, because she needed the work to keep her hands occupied, to lose herself in mindless work that wouldn't give her the time or energy to focus on Jason's disappearance.
She didn't have time for five stages of grief. She wanted it done, finished, over with so that she could go back about her day and start to figure out exactly how she was supposed to go on now that her anchor was missing. Now that family wasn't a thing that Darrow supplied.
For the first few hours, it worked. She rushed about with twice the speed that she normally had on her feet, working herself to the bone and sustaining more than a few bruises as she bumped into chairs and tables. But it was good, hard work, the sort that her parents had taught her to appreciate, and never before had she been so glad for the thick skin she'd developed over years of working at Merlotte's.
And then suddenly, it was too much. A customer who had heard the news. A regular, who stopped by Semele's every week for a Bloody Mary — heavier on the blood than most — and had left ten times the usual amount of tip with a kind note scribbled on the check. Her hands had shook, avoiding the touch of the paper as though it would make everything even more real, and before Sookie could snap back to, somehow, she had made it past the flurry of faces and to the outside alley, breath wheezing as she leaned up against the wall and slid slowly to the ground.
Get a grip, she wanted to tell herself, though all that came out was another gasp.
She was going into Semele's, because she needed the work to keep her hands occupied, to lose herself in mindless work that wouldn't give her the time or energy to focus on Jason's disappearance.
She didn't have time for five stages of grief. She wanted it done, finished, over with so that she could go back about her day and start to figure out exactly how she was supposed to go on now that her anchor was missing. Now that family wasn't a thing that Darrow supplied.
For the first few hours, it worked. She rushed about with twice the speed that she normally had on her feet, working herself to the bone and sustaining more than a few bruises as she bumped into chairs and tables. But it was good, hard work, the sort that her parents had taught her to appreciate, and never before had she been so glad for the thick skin she'd developed over years of working at Merlotte's.
And then suddenly, it was too much. A customer who had heard the news. A regular, who stopped by Semele's every week for a Bloody Mary — heavier on the blood than most — and had left ten times the usual amount of tip with a kind note scribbled on the check. Her hands had shook, avoiding the touch of the paper as though it would make everything even more real, and before Sookie could snap back to, somehow, she had made it past the flurry of faces and to the outside alley, breath wheezing as she leaned up against the wall and slid slowly to the ground.
Get a grip, she wanted to tell herself, though all that came out was another gasp.
no subject
"I think that's 'cause you don't. Make happiness, I mean," she says, frowning briefly as she shifts, knees suddenly lightly on either side of Derek's hips as her hand balances her glass of whiskey precariously to the side. "The moment you try to make it, it feels false. Feels like a lie. It's not about making happiness, it's just..."
Her gaze blurs over for a moment, far away and unfocused.
"Letting it happen when the opportunity is there."
It's his eyes that she settles on first. She's seen them take on other colors before, though it's the dark shade that she thinks she likes the most well. Soft, quiet, and vulnerable. She hesitates for only a moment before leaning in, her cheeks too warm and blood rushing dizzily to her head, almost overwhelming all other sensation when she presses her lips softly against his.
Almost, but not quite.
no subject
Their lips brush and it's electric, in a way. His eyes slip shut and he just breathes, feeling her exhale shakily against his mouth. A lot of things come to his mind at once, and it's mostly the image of the last person he kissed. Part of him feels like this is a betrayal, but it isn't. That person isn't here anymore, and Derek can never kiss him again. He has no one to be loyal to like that, not anymore.
The thought is a painful one, and Derek's hand tightens on Sookie's hip. He takes a deep breath and lets her scent overcome him again, and he feels better. This is what she's talking about, isn't it? Letting it happen.
It may not be the best idea, but in this moment, Derek doesn't really care. Her scent and her warm presence is like a balm on his wounds and maybe, just maybe, he's doing the same for her. If they can find even one moment of happiness, of something other than pain, shouldn't they take it?
His breath is shaky and he pulls back to look at her, eyes glinting briefly in the light before he leans in again, letting their lips brush softly. Derek stops thinking about the reasons why not, and he lets his hand slide up under the back of Sookie's shirt to rest against her bare, soft skin.
He breathes her in and shuts his eyes as he lets it happen. It's not clear to him who moves first, but suddenly they're kissing and Derek feels dizzy with it. It's overwhelming, all-encompassing, and in this moment, he thinks that it may be exactly what he needs.
no subject
Until she let herself cross that threshold with Bill. Until she reminded herself that other people having flaws didn't necessarily mean that they weren't worth growing close to. That sometimes, the warmth of company was enough to overpower the hurt.
Before Sookie realizes it, her glass has somehow made its way back to the table and her arms are looped loosely around Derek's neck. A part of her remains conscious even now that this may be a mistake. She's not in a place to think about entering a relationship, not when she's still in mourning over the loss of Lafayette and Jason. But ever since she let the first person in, it's been harder and harder to keep the door closed and turn away the prospect of company. Of comfort.
She rests her forehead briefly against Derek's, one hand gently raking down the front of his chest, disturbing the fabric and feeling the folds underneath her fingertips. After she catches her breath, she leans forward to capture his lips again, harder this time — she'll beg forgiveness rather than ask permission tonight. She can feel her shirt hiking up, and the slide of the hem against her skin makes Sookie shiver, cheeks already flushed in some mix of embarrassment and anticipation.
no subject
He's never really been one to turn to sex in times of strife. It was sex that caused all of his problems in the first place, and he finds it nearly impossible to let his guard down enough to be that intimate and vulnerable with a stranger. But Sookie isn't a stranger. Derek has liked her since the moment they met, in some way or another, and he'd be lying if he said he'd never thought about what this might be like. Not recently, and not when his heart belonged to someone else, but it has crossed his mind.
The reality of it is so much better, and he does his best to shut himself off to everything that isn't this. Sookie tastes like she smells, like summer and sunshine, this citrusy bite that has Derek licking into her mouth. Her thighs are spread around his waist and Derek slides his hand further up the back of her shirt, fingers nudging up under the strap of her bra.
The faint buzz of wolfsbane in his veins and the feeling of Sookie's lips on his bolsters him, and a soft sound like a growl escapes him as he pulls away from the kiss to fix his lips to her jaw instead, tongue tracing the edge of it before setting his blunt teeth to her neck, not quite hard enough to mark or sting, before he presses a kiss to the spot.
This is happening, and Derek isn't going to fight it. He doesn't want to, not with the way this drowns out everything else. He's firmly in this moment, and he drags her closer as he lets out a hot, ragged breath against her throat.