Author's Note: This is a post-script, really. When I started this story, I planned to end it after the first four chapters, just to give Eric and Sookie a start that didn't need amnesia (i.e. TB's 4th season plot). I ended up writing almost five times that much. These characters and their love are addicting.

Whether you're here for the first time or returning, I'm delighted. This story is complete, but I am a tinkerer—your feedback is most welcome! Thanks for reading. I appreciate you so. xo

Teeth in the Grass: Chapter 1

"And when you give me your clothes

and when we're lovers at last

fresh air, perfume in your nose

there will be teeth in the grass"

—Iron and Wine

I rubbed my temples and took a long drag of iced tea. Work had been grueling and stupid; all I wanted to do was slip into a bath. I would, as soon as I found the energy to shuffle off the couch. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back against the worn cushions, humming tunelessly to myself, enjoying the light breeze from the open door.

"And here I thought you didn't sing," said a dark, amused voice.

I snapped my head around to find Eric smirking in the doorway. For a moment, I couldn't remember why I was angry with him; all thought fled from my head. Suddenly becoming aware of his presence was like being physically struck. His taut, powerful frame; his striking, intelligent face; his witty, dangerous demeanor… I just sat and stared at him. His eyes—so often hard and unreadable—twinkled mischievously. He shrugged at my silence and tapped a slender finger against his lips.

"So… Am I invited in?"

I quickly came to.

"Suit yourself, smart ass. You know there's nothing I can do about it." Eric strode casually into the living room, but did not sit. He leaned, as if on display. If he hadn't looked so damn good, I would have laughed.

"Perhaps, but that's no reason not to observe the niceties. Being near you makes me want to be very nice."

"Is that right?" I answered back. "So you're here to give me a foot rub, then?" He advanced so quickly I almost dropped my glass on the floor. He must have sensed my sudden panic; instead of touching me, he settled into a corner of the couch.

"If I were you, lover, I wouldn't ask for anything I didn't want to receive… There isn't much I would deny you."

"How about my house, then?"

"It's yours," he stated flatly, taking an envelope from his jacket pocket and flicking it my way. I stared at him, skeptical. "Come, Sookie. You don't really think I would hold something over you so petty as a property deed. Where's the fun in that?"

I snatched the envelope and peeked inside. Sure enough, there was the deed of ownership, my name printed in clear black lettering. "Thank you," I managed, in disbelief more than gratitude. I blinked as I read it again. Almost on reflex, I reached across the space between us, and grasped his hand. "Thank you, Eric. This is…"

"…unexpected," he finished for me with a small smile. His fingers closed over mine. My heart stuttered.

"I am not going to apologize," he said after a moment. "But neither will I ask for something in return." He turned his face toward me, his eyes a penetrating gray. "We are equal now."

Even without my usual presence of mine, I laughed aloud. "Eric Northman, we are anything but equal."

"No?" My response must have encouraged him; his hand drifted up my arm and into my hair. It felt so good I almost forgot where I was. "And why is that?"

I almost started the list—his looks, his wealth, his age, his position, his predatory power—but I did not. I shifted away. "You want compliments, Mister, you're going to have to give some once in a while. Besides, I don't think I could take it if your head got any bigger."

He raised an eyebrow wryly, making me replay my last words in my head. "You want to run that by me again?" I blushed, but tilted my head back at him in challenge.

"Incorrigible!"

"Indeed," he smiled before turning serious. "But—power, money, title… Those things are trivial, effects of living so long; nothing I inherently possess. You are my equal in every way that matters."

I waited for the punch-line, the mocking follow-up—some indication that Eric wasn't telling the truth. It didn't come, though. He just sat there, looking at me with something that resembled genuine warmth. Not sure where to rest my eyes, I looked down at the property deed in my hand. The document almost shamed me.

All of a sudden, I felt rattled, unnerved, and deeply shy. It seemed like he was offering something more than just the house, something that our previous relationship had not equipped me to handle. He was offering…transparency. Maybe even trust. I considered this. Could I be emotionally intimate with Eric? I wasn't sure. But for the first time since I'd known him, I felt like I wanted to try.

He sensed the change in my mood. He looked at me quizzically before he spoke.

"Would you like to come outside with me? I want to show you something."

I followed Eric out the door into the cool night air. My breath caught in my chest. Standing in the middle of the backyard—so large that I questioned how it possibly could have been planted there for less than a hundred years, even though I knew it wasn't there when I left for work in the daylight—was a beautiful ash tree. I loved it immediately. Drawn toward it, I placed my palm gently against the trunk. It seemed to hum in my hand. I was vaguely aware of Eric watching from a distance, his arms folded against his chest, a quiet smile playing about his mouth.

Through my wonder, I was puzzled. It didn't seem to go with the modern additions Eric had made to my house. In fact, it seemed almost ancient.

"Why?" I breathed.

"In Norse mythology, Yggdrasil is a massive ash tree that connects the nine realms of existence. The tree of life." I waited in silence as he sought the right words. "I know I made a lot of changes here, not all of them welcome, and I wanted…to do something that would honor your ancestors, all those who came before." He shrugged as if the next sentiment was commonplace, "I thought this tree might remind you of the interconnectivity of life and death, and the endless portals between them."

I was shocked at the tender intelligence, the sincerity in his words. This was an Eric I had no knowledge of. I remained near the base of the tree, transfixed. He took a few steps toward me.

"Second, my culture has a tradition of warden trees. They serve as guardians, bringers of luck." He paused carefully. "Knowing this house is yours again—that I cannot come and go as I please—I leave you this emblem of protection."

The sentiment might have annoyed me—like an assumption of my weakness, or something—but it didn't. In fact, I felt the opposite. Valued. Assured.

Eric advanced until he stood directly in front of me. He took a strand of my hair in his fingers and twisted it gently, eyes glittering in the moonlight.

"And if I needed another excuse…" he started, almost to himself, "…trees are beautiful. And you are beautiful."

I stared up into his eyes, touched, overwhelmed, confused, excited. I couldn't process the internal change that had taken place in the last few minutes, and so I didn't speak. I didn't move. I merely felt. Eric closed his eyes, and brought his forehead down to meet mine. For a few moments, he just rested his head against me, breathing quietly. I closed my eyes as well, my pulse beating wildly against his skin. Several minutes passed as we shared the silence.

"Miss Stackhouse," he murmured eventually, so softly I was surprised I could understand him, "I would very much like to see you tomorrow." I waited a beat before slowly nodding in assent. A small growl of pleasure echoed through his chest, reminding me of his latent power. It woke something new in me—something rich and alive and frighteningly strong. Tentatively, I raised my arms to embrace him.

Before I could finish the gesture, he uttered, "Until then." I felt a sudden rush of cold air. My eyes snapped open, my body on alert. All that met my gaze was the silent, ancient tree. Eric was gone. I let out a long, unsteady breath.

Holy shit.