#alexhoegh

You and Ivar had known each other for several years now. You both graduated with honors from the same high school, him being your only competition for staking your claim as the top of your class. So needless to say, you were anything but thrilled when you had been informed that the both of you would be the Valedictorian.

After you had ended up working at his father's company, unbeknownst to you until it was already too late, the two of you had worked somewhat as a team on project after project together, and you'd learned how to deal with the asshole he truly was. You tried not to show how he got under your skin, but sometimes, you just couldn't hold it inside and would give him a piece of your mind. He thought so highly of himself and, despite his striking good looks, you wanted to be sure he was aware of just what an asshole you thought him to be.

Now that he'd gotten the long awaited promotio he'd been wanting, he was sure to make your life a living hell. "How did that mother fucker become my boss anyway? Wait. Why am I even surprised? Of course, he got the job. I mean, daddy is the owner. Does that mean I'll have to fetch his coffee in the mornings and go out to buy shit for his mistresses on my lunchbreeaks? I'm doomed. I have got to find a new job before any of that bullshit!" You had complained to your best friend, Liv, who happened to also work with you.

"Now, in his defense, you know he worked hard to get that position, Y/N, so be nice. You could have had it yourself, remember? It has nothing to do with Ragnar, and you know it. And you can't go find another job. What would I do here without you?"

You rolled your eyes, "Thanks for the support, you cow!" was all you offered her in return.

Even though you'd expected the absolute worst from Ivar as your new boss, he'd actually surprised you. The very first time he called you into his office, you opened the doors and immediately rolled your eyes when you saw the incredible city view from the window, the massive desk he sat at, and the sheer size of the office itself.

He stood when you entered, "Please, close the doors behind you." You huffed as you turned and did so, thinking he'd better not use his power to come onto you.

As you approached, he motioned to the chairs, "Please, have a seat." No matter how much you tried, you couldn't exactly hide your annoyance for the situation.

"Before we start, I can't help but notice your hostility. Did I miss something?"

Slightly embarrassed, you answered, "No, I-I'm sorry. It's just, well, I can only imagine what you've called me in here to do for you. Don't forget, I know you, Lothbrok. Just because you're my boss now, doesn't mean I suddenly have amnesia." You didnt care if he fired you. You had savings. He smiled at your antics. You seriously weren't going to make this easy for him.

"Well, actually, that's exactly the reason I asked for you to join me. I wanted to go over a few things." You sighed, and he tried to ignore it as he continued. "You will be my Administrative Assistant, as you know, but unlike how most of the people around here seem to run things, that, in no way, implies that you'll be my personal servant. I can get my own coffee, if I choose to have any, I'll go out for my own lunch, the cleaning people who clean the offices at night will do my cleaning as well. I'm no fool, Y/N. I know if you had tried for this position, you would be the one sitting behind this desk, and I do not intend to rub that in your face. You're here to do a job, and I plan to make it as pleasant of one as I can."

You were stunned. You'd never had a conversation with Ivar Lothbrok that hadn't ended in the two of you insulting each other in one way or another. "Does that sound to your liking?" he asked, bringing you back to the conversation at hand.

"Oh, umm, yeah, I mean, yes. Yes, of course."

"Then what's wrong?" he looked genuinely concerned, and you hated how well he knew you.

"Well, umm. I just. I mean. I'd expected that..."

"I'd be the same asshole that I've always been?"

You sighed, "Well, yes."

He laughed, "You really don't get it, do you? I was sure you were going to try for this position, too, and like I said, I knew you'd get it if you did. What came so effortlessly easy for you, I've had to study for, practice, and be on my toes for."

"The whole while, you breeze in here, talking about the drinks you went out for the night before and had only had a couple of hours of sleep, then blow everybody away in the meeting with your knowledge and perfect answers. You didn't know I'd been up the night before, going over everything two and sometimes, even three times just to be sure I didn't fuck up the next day."

"So, you were just jealous all this time, Lothbrok? That's what it's all been about? You're incredibly intelligent, too, you know?"

"Was that a compliment I just heard?" he grinned, and you rolled your eyes. "Not jealousy. I was just, umm, worried I wouldn't get what I've been working so hard for. Why didn't you try for the job?"

"Too much responsibility. I make well, live comfortably, and I've been in management positions before. I'm just tired of that stress."

"Honesty. I like it. Well, I'd say I owe you a thank you. I'm only here because you didn't want to be, and contrary to popular belief, I have no problem admitting that. So. We're on the same page now?"

You nodded, and that was the end of the meeting. You walked out with the look of complete shock across your face. When Liv saw you, all she could ask was, "You're not quitting, are you? What happened?"

"We'll talk over lunch."

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The next few months as Ivar's assistant turned out to be absolutely nothing like you'd expected. He regarded your opinion as highly as his own. He had only one meeting without you and told you after it that he'd like you present for all the other ones. He said he knew you'd have an insight that maybe he'd overlook, and he wanted you to have his back.

At the first one you attended, one of the other men from a competing company had made a remark to you to pour him and his men more drinks. When you rolled your eyes, he called you a bitch and told you to do as you're told. Ivar had stood up immediately and called security to escort him and his men out. "I thought you were a serious buisness man and wanted to make huge profits for your company, not some pussy whipped asshole who'd put pleasure before buisness," the man said to Ivar as security was escorting them out of the conference room.

You'd never seen Ivar move so fast. He was standing in front of the man, before he'd had time to blink, with his hand clutching the man's jaw. "I don't do buisness with anyone who can't respect women. She is my equal and will be treated as such. From my understanding, your buisness really needed this deal, not mine, so I believe it will be you who will be hurting from the loss of profits, not us." He released the man and said to security, "See to it that they are all escorted completely off of the property, and make sure they know downstairs that no one from their company should be allowed to enter beyond the front lobby."

"Yes, sir."

When he turned back to you, he saw your bright red face. "Are you ok? What is it?" He rushed to your side.

"I, umm. I'm speechless. You didn't have to do that. I can stand up for myself."

"I know you can, but you shouldn't have to in a place like this. That was uncalled for." He sat back down as if nothing had happened and begin to type on his laptop. Looking back up at your still shocked face, he asked, "What?"

"I. Umm. I'm sorry. That was a big deal for the company. I'm so sorry. Maybe I shouldn't attend...."

"Stop apologizing. It's not your fault, and it would've been a bigger deal for them than it would have been for us. I'm sending an email to my father about it right now. It'll be fine. I'll still want you to attend that other meeting with me tomorrow, though, ok?"

"Umm, ok. Hope it goes better than this one," and you gently closed the doors behind you and headed back to your desk.

You felt confused. Ivar Lothbrok had been the target of your hate for so long that you weren't sure how to feel about him defending you like that. And even more confusing, you realized that, even though it had been an extremely simple act, you'd, surprisenly, liked it.

The next few weeks passed quickly. You'd attended every meeting you'd put on Ivar's calendar. You'd helped him when he asked for it, and gave suggestions even when he didn't. He really seemed to appreciate your expertise, and had completely changed a few of his pitches to other companies based on your ideas.

He liked your sharp mind and how you thought out of the box. He'd never met another person who was so similar to himself, especially not a female, and one who challenged him and the way even he thought. It was fascinating to him. And it drove him crazy. No one had ever matched his intelligence or his wit. He even found himself looking forward to the challenge each day, and that was when he knew he was in trouble.

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You'd gotten used to the meetings and negotiations. Ivar had given you free reign to negotiate on his behalf. He knew the company was always your priority. To your surprise, the two of you made a great, strong team, and had made the company some significant gains. Ivar never shied away from giving you the credit you deserved when discussing the deals the two of you had made. He'd gained respect from you that you'd never expected to want to give him.

He'd asked you to attend an out of state conference with him. It was a very important one, and all the who's who of the business would be there. You'd meet many important people, and his hope was that the two of you would make a nice impression on most of them, and they'd agree to do business with you guys. "But me? Why? Shouldn't your father be the one to attend with you? Or I don't know, anyone but me. I'm just..."

"My right hand woman. You have helped me make the necessary changes in this company that I've always dreamed about making. I won't lie, I know I could have done it without you," you snarled at him, "But it would've taken me twice as long. It would have been way more difficult to close some of those big whigs, and I think once you're there at the conference, you'll enjoy it and help me put our best foot forward. Due to several of our choices and deals that we've made, the company is thriving now, more than ever. It's only right that you should go as well, and father agrees."

"But I, I don't know how to act at those kinds of fancy things. What if I get nervous, and freeze and forget what to say?"

"I'll be right by your side, and we'll manage it together. Please. It would mean a great deal to me," he coughed, "To the company."

You pretended like you didn't notice his last words as you rolled it over in your mind. He could see your wheels turning, and he smiled. "Look, you won't pay for anything while we're gone. I'll have the company card, so all expenses are covered one hundred percent: flight, room and board, cocktails, dresses, everything."

You looked up at him quizzically, "Dresses?"

Smiling, he answered, "Well, yes. There will be some very formal evenings. I know you have nice things; don't get me wrong, but I'll be getting a new suit or two myself and probably even a tux, so I think it's only fair to take the lady on the shopping spree with me." He dropped his head a little, trying to hide his face that he knew was now flushed bright red.

"Well, I don't think that will be necessary. There's just one thing, if I say yes, I will have my own..."

"Room? Yes, absolutely. We'll have separate rooms that are hopefully, close by so we can discuss things before we meet everyone. And you can say the shopping isn't necessary, but just wait until you see some of those gorgeous dresses," he grinned.

"Fine, Lothbrok," you rolled your eyes at him, "I'll go with you."

"Just one more thing."

You turned back to him as you were headed out of his office, "What now?"

"Can you at least try not to roll your eyes at me while we're there? It seems to be ypur favorite thing. Sure, it's cute and all, but I don't want to be made a fool of in front of those people."

You gulped, face turning bright red, "Umm, yeah, sure. I'm sorry. Uh, I didn't mean..."

Smiling back at you, he cut you off, "It's fine, Y/N."

Walking back to your desk, all you could think of was how he said you rolling your eyes was cute. What was happening here? Why had that make you feel butterflies, feel anything at all? This entire trip was probably a bad idea. A very bad idea. You were certainly happy Liv wasn't at her desk. You couldn't talk to her just yet. You had to pull it together first.

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Refusing to accept Ivar's offer for a car to pick you up, you met him at the airport. He helped you with your bags, ignoring your protests, and you only heard Liv's words in your head, "That man wants you something fierce. It's obvious." She had to be wrong. She had to be. He was one of the most eligible bachelors in town. He could have any woman he wanted, and had, as you'd seen for yourself with all the different gorgeous women who used to come in and out of the office back before he was your boss. No, Liv was definitely projecting her own wishes onto you. She'd always thought Ivar was hot, but she had a wonderful boyfriend.

As the two of you boarded the plane, you pushed the thoughts of Liv out of your mind. Why had you even entertained any of it to begin with? She's crazy.

You headed to the left as Ivar called after you, "Y/N, where are you going?"

"To our seats?" you answered, confused.

"We're in first class, Dear," he laughed. "This way."

Dear.

You were pleasantly surprised during the flight. Ivar and you talked about everything you could think of, the ridiculous new rules in the airport, work, the convention, and to your amazement, his family and yours. He was genuinely curious about you, where you grew up, your relationship with you family and parents. You really enjoyed that he was actually attentive and listening. He really wanted to know more about you. Imagine that!

After a tiring flight and long ride, you finally arrived at the hotel. You stood with Ivar as he checked you in. To your horror, you heard the attendant say, "Oh, good evening, Mr. And Mrs. Lothbrok. Your room is on the 6th floor."

Before you had a chance to protest, he answered, "Excuse me? You mean rooms, correct? And this is not Mrs. Lothbrok. This is Y/F/N Y/L/N. There should be two reservations."

Looking worried, she typed away on the computer. After a long moment, she finally said, "I'm terribly sorry, Sir. There's only one reservation under your name, and nothing under hers at all. If it helps, the room is a suite with two separate bedrooms. I'm sure you'll find the accommodations to your liking."

Her face was red  and she was visibaly shaking when Ivar responded. "That's not the point! This is a buisness trip! We are here for the conference! Not on a vacation. Y/N is my colleague, not my fucking wife!" You felt embarrassed. You certainly knew, now, how very wrong Liv had been.

"I need you to give us a second room! Immediately! I ensured my colleague here that she'd have her own room. Imagine how uncomfortable she'll be sharing a room with me! You know what? Let me speak to your supervisor!"

This was the Ivar you knew. You'd nearly forgotten how rude he could be. "Lothbrok." He didn't look at you. You placed your hand on his arm, "Ivar. It's ok. She said there are separate bedrooms. We can manage."

He turned to you, "No! That's unacceptable. I don't want to put you in any compromising situations, make you uncomfortable in any way. This is not what I reserved. I promise."

"Ivar, I..."

The manager approached. After speaking with Ivar for a long time, he finally agreed to accept the room they had for the two of you together. Because of the conference, there wasn't any others available, and there was no way he'd have you stay in a completely different hotel. The manager had agreed to discount the room and apologized profusely for the mistake. Ivar told you he'd only finally accepted it because you reassured him that you were ok with it.

As the two of you finally got to the room, he opened the door, "Ladies first."

You gasped when you saw how incredibly nice the room was. Black leather furniture, a full, stocked bar, blue, thick, velvet curtains, a beautiful chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. "Ivar, there's no way I would have let you pay for two of the suites. Are you kidding me right now?" He stood behind you, watching and smiling.

When you opened the door to the bedroom, it took your breath away. There was a king size bed decorated beautifully with pillows you wanted to jump into. As you walked in futher, you saw the bathroom. "Oh my God! This thing is massive!"

"That's what she said," Ivar said from behind you.

"You," you grinned, shaking your head, "Of course, you'd never change just because you're the one in charge."

"Oh? I'm in charge now, am I?"

"C'mon, you know what I mean. And seriously, look at this tub! I could swim in there! It's big enough for us both!" You turned and pointed your finger at him,"Don't even say it, Lothbrok!" He only laughed.

When you went back to the main room, Ivar flopped down on the sofa, his large body covering nearly all of it. "I'm starving. What about you?"

Sitting in the chair across from him, you answered, "Yeah, I could eat."

"How do you feel about Room Service? We could go out to dinner somewhere if you really prefer, but I'm seriously exhausted. It's been such a long day."

You thought about it for a moment. The two of you had never had a meal together, and you hoped it wouldn't be awkward.

Looking at you thinking, he said, "Or, of course, you can go out somewhere by yourself. I just figured since we're..."

"Oh, it's fine, Lothbrok. I'm actually pretty tired, too. Room Service sounds amazing."

"I liked it when you called me Ivar downstairs" he said, clearly before he'd realized it, because the look across his face told you everything.

Smiling, you only said, "Do you mind calling and placing the order? I'm going to take a shower."

"Oh, a shower sounds delightful. I'll probably do the same after I make the order. What do you want?"

Walking toward your room, rolling your suitcase behind you, you said, "Umm, I pretty much like everything except for stewed vegetables. And I like my meat well done."

Ivar smirked, "Noted."

Ugh, what was with him being so flirty now? "Ivar Lothbrok!" You gave him your best disapproving look.

"What?" he asked with feigning innocence. When he looked at you, he sat straight up. "Oh, I'm sorry. I really meant nothing by it. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Laughing as you entered your room, "You wish you had that affect on me."

"Well, in that case, say my first and last name again," he teased.

"You're pathetic, Lothbrok. Order our food!" and you disappeared into your room.

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When you returned from your shower, you walked around the corner to find Ivar at the bar searching for something. You were taken back by what you saw. He was standing in a pair of grey sweats with no shirt. His thick, damp, brown hair was hanging loose, resting just below his broad shoulders, and he had intricate tattoos tracing down every inch of the muscles on his back. As he raised his arms to open the cabinet door above him, you also noticed the defined muscles of his arms. Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to speak.

He turned around with two glasses in his hands, "I've been looking for at least five minutes for damn glasses, and of course, they'd be in the last spot I...." he completely stopped speaking when his eyes landed on yours.

You realized you were blushing and quickly shifted your gaze to the floor. "I, umm. I didn't expect to be sharing a room, so umm, I. Well, I only have oversized t-shirts for sleeping," you coughed, looking away again, nervously. "I don't. I'm not sure..."

Sitting the glasses on the counter, he quickly walked toward his room, completely avoiding eye contact with you. "Oh, it's, umm. It's fine. I'm sure I have an extra pair of sweats you can borrow if you'd like. I need to go get my shirt anyway. I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd be finished showering so soon."

He disappeared into the room, giving you a couple of minutes to collect your thoughts. You were kind of saddened at the thought of him covering his gorgeous back. You hadn't gotten a chance to fully see his chest, but you were sure if his back was any indication of how his chest must look, it had to be delightful. How you yearned to just touch it, trace the tattoos with your fingertips, feel his skin beneath your hands! Wait. What were you doing? He's your boss. You needed to snap out of it. And quickly. That was not professional. At all.

He came back through, t-shirt snug around his torso, and tossed you a pair of sweat pants.

"Thanks," you scurried off to put them on. Of course, they were huge on you. You anxiously pulled the drawstring as tight as it would go and even tried folding them around the waistline to make them stay up to no avail. You'd just have to make do.

Holding onto the waist of the sweats, you returned to the dining area where he was placing your food. "Just in time. They just delivered our meals."

"Thank God. I'm famished," you replied, sitting down.

"Humm, they're a little big on you, huh?" he grinned, placing your food in front of you. "I thought as much. We can go shopping tomorrow before the first part of the conference begins if you want. I want you to be comfortable while we're here."

"That's really not necessary. I can make do. It's only, what? Three nights, right?" He nodded. "I'll be fine."

"Suit yourself," he grabbed the glasses from the counter, "But those things are enormous on you. Wine ok to go along with dinner?"

"Definitely."

Once you looked at what he'd ordered you, you looked up at him, "Lothbrok, what is this? Like an 8 ounce steak? Geez, it's huge!"

"Umm, 10 actually." Your mouth dropped. "Well, I ordered the same for you as I did for myself. I wasn't going to get a huge steak for me and just a tiny one for you. That's not right. We're equals."

"Actually, we're not. You're my boss. It baffles me how you seem to forget that so often."

"Y/N, you obviously work just as hard as I do, and the only difference between us is the stupid title." Your face flushed red, and he didn't miss it. "No reason to feel embarrassed. It's true, and I've been thinking. It's not right that we do all the work together, but you don't get paid quite as much for your part of it. I plan on giving you a raise when we get back."

"But," you began before he cut you off.

"No buts, it's already been decided and in the works. And before you even ask, Father agrees with me."

You really hated how well he knew you. "Fine, but please remember I don't want to be a boss. I don't want to run the office with you."

He grinned, "Semantics."

"Ugh," you grumbled.

Over dinner, the two of you talked as if you'd known each other for your entire lives. It was strange how comfortable you felt with him. The conversation flowed easily, the wine, even more easy than that. It wasn't until you stood that you realized just how many glasses you'd had. "Sit. Let me help you with that," Ivar stood.

"Let me at least attempt to earn my keep," you said, grabbing your plates and placing them back on the room service cart. "Actually, I think I'll keep the half of my steak that I didn't eat. It'll be great warmed up when I get hungry again."

As you turned to walk to the kitchen for something to put your leftover steak on, Ivar's sweats that you were wearing slipped down your hips and fell to the floor. "Fuck!" you yelled as you tripped. Just as you thought you were going to hit the floor, Ivar was at you side, catching you.

"Drank too much, did we?"

"No!" you exclaimed, "I just tripped over your huge pants!"

"Looks like you forgot to hold them up," he laughed.

"Oh, shut up!" Holding onto his arms, you stepped out of the sweats and kicked them out of the way. "Looks like you're going to just have to deal with these long ass legs," you grinned, looking up at him.

"I don't mind," he swallowed audibly.

You stared into his eyes a little too long for the situation. His gaze dropped to your lips and then quickly back to your eyes again. You were suddenly all too aware of the feel of his hard, muscular arms, under your hands, holding you up. You resisted the urge to rub ypur hands along them. You stood for another moment too long before you reluctantly pulled away, "Oh, umm, the steak. I should get something before they come for the cart."

As you went to the kitchen, he stood there in the same spot for another minute, a bit dazed. Shaking his head as if to wake himself up, finally, he went back to the table and proceeded to clean everything else up.

After you got your steak, he took the cart just outside the door and left it in the hallway as he had been instructed.

He joined you on the sofa as you flipped through the channels. Leaning back and stretching, he just watched you. Feeling his eyes on you, you looked over at him, "What?"

"Oh, uh nothing," he lied. You raised your eyebrow at him. "Well, I was just thinking, the big t-shirt suits you way better than my big sweats. You're completely covered, and as long as you're comfortable, I see no reason you should torture yourself the rest of this weekend trying to hold up my pants just so you can walk," he laughed.

"It's not funny," you whined.

"Yes. Yes, it is," he bellowed out laughter, and you rolled your eyes. He did his best to contain it as he said, "Well, do you mind if I get comfortable, too, then?"

Your mouth was suddenly dry, "Umm, no. Not at all." To everything holy, you prayed he was going to take his shirt off. You were dying to see what his chest looked like after seeing his fantastic back. You felt your face getting hot so you turned your head back to the tv quickly, hoping he hadn't noticed.

"Have you seen this movie before? It's really good," you asked him, not turning to look at him.

"No. Let's watch it." And that's when you made the mistake of looking back at him just in time to see him take his shirt off. Dear Lord, what a sight!

Suddenly a bit nervous, he asked, "Is this ok with you? I can put it back on if you,"

"N-no. It's perfectly fine," you answered probably a bit too fast.

"Great, because it's just not comfortable to lay around in. That's the first thing I take off everyday when I get home, even before my shoes."

"Probably because it's like two sizes too small for you," you said before you realized the words had escaped your lips. "Fuck! I'm sorry. I-I'm. I mean, I'm not complaining. Shit. Umm. Nevermind."

He laughed at you and you shot him a bird. "Real mature, Y/N."

"Just watch the movie," you grumbled. "You know I've been drinking. I don't know what I'm saying."

"Sure," he giggled, and you rolled your eyes at him again. "You've got to stop that!"

You looked at him but didn't say anything, and he turned his attention to the movie. Before you knew it, you'd both fallen asleep, you laying your head on his chest and his arm around your waist.

As he went to stretch, he realized you were laying with him, well actually, on him. And then, he realized he liked it, the warmth of your body snuggled up to him, the light air he felt as you slowly breathed in and out, softly fanning across his chest, sending goosebumps down his spine, the feel of your hand stretched out over his stomach, and the feel of soft skin on his fingertips at the small of your back as he held you at your waist, it was all too nice, too sweet, too much.

How had the two of you ended up like this? Had you really had that much to drink? He glanced over to the coffee table and saw the nearly empty bottle of wine. Guess that was his answer. He really wasn't as big of a drinker as he used to be since he'd gotten the promotion, no time to spend doing such things when there was work to be done, and he saw, now, it had caught up to him.

He really didn't want to move; he preferred to lay like this the rest of the night with you, and he would, but his damn bladder had other plans. Once he thought more about it, he figured you'd be mortified as is, so he reluctantly decided to wake you up.

"Y/N, hey, I think it's time for bed," he said softly. He rubbed your back, and oh, how he loved it, in an attempt to gently wake you. "Hey, Y/N, c'mon. Time for bed." You only mumbled something unintelligible, so he decided he'd get up to go to the bathroom. Surely, that would wake you.

How he hated moving out from under your body! He instantly felt the emptiness and the chill of no longer having your warmth wrapped around him as he stood. He hated it. "Get a grip, man," he softly said to himself as he looked down at you, still on the sofa, seemingly unbothered by his absence. He was sure you'd wake up in a few minutes, so he went on to the bathroom.

He stood in the mirror, looking at himself. What was his problem? He'd had many female friends in his life. Why was this one becoming such a challenge? He splashed water on his face, and took a deep breath. He was sure you'd have plenty to say when he went back to you. "You got this," he said to himself, not believing a word of it.

As he entered the sitting room where he'd left you in, he didn't see you sitting on the sofa. Good, you took yourself to bed. He walked closer to grab the control and turn the tv off so he could go to bed as well, and then he saw you, still laying on the sofa, completely knocked out, only now, snuggled up to one of the pillows. It was the cutest thing ever, but now, what should he do?

He thought about just leaving you there to sleep the rest of the night, but there were no blankets, and he knew the bed would be much more comfortable. So he bent down and moved the hair out of your face, "Y/N. Hey, Y/N. You should really go to bed now.'

You didn't move or say a word. He thought for another moment, and finally decided he'd just carry you himself. It would be rude to leave you out there all night when there was such a nice, big bed waiting for you, and apparently, you'd had way too much to drink to wake up and make it on your own.

"So, fuck it. Let's do this," he mumbled to himself. He leaned down and effortlessly scooped you up into his arms. You instinctively settled your head onto his shoulder. He tried his best to ignore your breath on his neck as he began walking with you. When he entered your room, it smelled of you, sweet like strawberries, and he held his breath for as long as he possibly could.

He gently laid you on the bed and covered you with the blankets. The soft light from the bedside lamp danced across your beautiful face, highlighting your near smile. He sighed as he looked at you. Despite his better judgment, he leaned down and kissed you on your head, "Goodnight, Y/N."

As he pulled away, you softly said, "Stay."

His eyes widened, his breath caught in his throat, and he nearly choked. "What?" His heart pounded as he stared at you, waiting for any sign of a coherent thought. "Y/N?"

Nothing.

He turned the lights out and turned to leave your room. Maybe he was already dreaming. As he reached the door, he turned back to look at you one last time. "Stay, Ivar," you mumbled softly.

He nearly crumbled to the floor. "Y/N, I. Umm. I can't. I shouldn't. I mean, I'd love to. But," he struggled to get the words out. "We've had too much to drink. I-I'm, I can't." He couldn't see your face with only the hallway lighting. He wasn't sure if you were even awake. "Goodnight, Y/N," and he gently closed the door behind him.

He turned with his hand still on the doorknob. His other hand stretched out widely on the door, he leaned his forehead on it. "Oh hell," he practically panted.

He banged his head on his hand several times. He wanted nothing more than to open that door back up, sprint across the room, crawl into the bed beside you, and lay down with you. He didn't even need anything to happen, just holding you in his arms for the rest of the night would suffice. And with that, he knew. He was fucked.