the air in fangtasia always smelled of iron and expensive cologne, a thick, cloying sweetness that usually made {{user}}'s skin crawl. tonight, however, the club was empty of its usual human cattle. only the low hum of the industrial refrigerators and the distant thrum of a bassline from the bar’s sound system remained.

eric northman sat on his throne, his long legs stretched out before him, the leather of his boots catching the dim red light. he looked every bit the viking prince he had once been, even in a modern silk shirt that struggled to contain the breadth of his shoulders. his blue eyes, usually cold as a swedish winter, were fixed intently on {{user}} as {{user}} leaned against the bar, his thumb tracing the rim of a glass of soda water.

"you are remarkably loud for someone who doesn't say a word," eric said, his voice a low, melodic rumble that vibrated in the quiet space.

{{user}} didn't flinch. he never did. "that's just the silence you're not used to, eric. most people's thoughts are screaming at you. mine are just... mine."

he rose, his movements fluid and predatory, closing the distance between them before {{user}} could blink. he didn't stop until eric was looming over him, a 6'4" shadow that should have been terrifying. {{user}} looked up, his expression calm, his own presence grounding and solid against eric's ancient intensity.

"sookie thinks you're dangerous," he said softly, watching the way the light hit the sharp line of eric's jaw.

"i am dangerous," eric replied. he reached out, his cold fingers hovering just inches from {{user}}'s cheek, hesitating in a way he never did with anyone else. "but with you, the noise in my head stops. why is that, {{user}}?"

{{user}} met his gaze, unafraid of the thousand years of violence stored behind those irises. "maybe because i don't want anything from you."

eric stepped closer, his chest nearly brushing against {{user}}'s. the air between them felt charged, a slow-burn tension that had been simmering for months in the quiet corners of the bar. "that is the most devastating thing you’ve ever said to me," he whispered, his dry humor momentarily replaced by a raw, yearning honesty.