#normona

“What?” Monaco couldn't help her surprise. “Vikings!?” “It's been quite a few hundred years since they went by 'Vikings',” France laughed. “But yes. Former Vikings. Isn't it grand?!” “Can they be trusted to not knock us all out and run away with all we hold dear?” Monaco looked worriedly around the room – it would be a shame to loose everything. “I assure you they're both going to be perfect gentlemen,” France waved her worried off with a smile. “There's nothing to worry about,” he assured her – but Monaco didn't feel that relaxed. She'd heard the stories of what the northern nations had done in the past – and some things were simply too hard to just let die.

Her appetite was awful for days, even more so as the day of the meeting drew nearer.

Monaco wanted nothing more than to hide or flee some-place else if she could; perhaps Italy would hide her for a week if she bribed him with wine? No. She couldn't hide. France would find her. Monaco sighed deeply as she studied herself in the mirror. This was going to be an awful, awful day.

“There you are!” France greeted her with a little too much enthusiasm – even for his standards; and Monaco felt herself go a little stiff as she stepped inside the room.

“Well hello there!” a deep but loud voice said and Monaco looked up to stare into the eyes of a giant of a man with wild hair and wide grin. “So nice to meet you, I'm Denmark!” “Pleasure to meet you,” Monaco said with a small curtsey, a little scared of someone that tall being in such close proximity to her. France was tall enough for her liking, she had no desire to crane her neck even further just to speak to someone.

“Denmark,” another voice said, and Monaco flinched a little at the cold tone. “You're scaring her,” “What? No I'm not!” Denmark turned around and Monaco finally got a glimpse of the other man who was sitting in one of the sofas. “I'm being nice!” he argued to the other blond – who didn't look quite as wild as Denmark. “Sure you are. But just... tone it down,” the man said and rolled his eyes; and Monaco assumed that had to be Norway. “It would take more than that to scare my dear Monaco,” France laughed and ushered her further into the room with a smile. Monaco smiled politely, and hoped everyone believed France's lie. “Monaco; this is Denmark and Norway. Our new allies! Denmark, Norway – this is Monaco,” France said with a grin. “Very nice to meet you,” Denmark gave a bow – playing the part of 'gentleman' at least somewhat correctly. Norway on the other-hand... Norway didn't even get up from his seat, just stared at her before giving her a small nod of acknowledgement.

Monaco wasn't sure if she should be relieved or angry. “Sit down, sit down,” France near commanded, and Monaco hesitantly took a seat in the sofa opposite from Norway – deciding she didn't wish to be any nearer him than she had to. Denmark and France chatted animatedly; and Monaco was rather glad she could simply sit and nod along instead of talking. Norway didn't even appear to listen. He as staring out into space and generally looking like he wanted to be some place else. Monaco couldn't fault him for that – but she thought he could at least pretend to listen. “Sorry, I'll be right back, I need to, uh, powder my face,” Monaco stood up and excused herself – Denmark looked puzzled at her but smiled politely. France looked mad for a moment before he nodded – either he believed her or he was letting her have a small break. Monaco didn't even bother to look at Norway – he probably didn't even hear her excuse. She planned to take her sweet time away from the men. Maybe sneak some wine before they noticed she should be due back. Monaco smiled to herself as she headed down the corridor. She wasn't in any hurry to get back to the war-games of France's plans for the future. She dropped by the kitchen to get some food, then wandered to the library to find something to read for a while until she felt like joining France and his guests for more food and wine again. Monaco found a nice little corner and sank down to the floor. 'How long can  hide before France comes looming for me?' she thought, carefully prying one book out from the shelf in front of her.

“Interesting way to powder your face,” Norway's voice sounded and Monaco yelped in fear. “How did you find, I mean why are you here?” Monaco stared up in disbelief – France usually at least spent one hour trying to find her, but Norway had already tracked her down? Monaco shivered a little in fear. “Did France send you to drag me back?” “Something like that,” Norway shrugged before taking a seat next to her on the floor. Monaco regarded him with a stern but worried look. He was too close. Norway appeared to read minds, because he moved a little away. “Sorry,” he said and Monaco just blinked in disbelief. “Can you read minds?” she whispered. She had to know. “No,” Norway replied bluntly. “Then how did you find me so quickly?” “You looked just as uncomfortable as I was, and I figured this would be the best hiding place to escape two blabbering idiots,” Norway said as his gaze drifted across the selection of books in front of them. “So you’re not here to drag me back?” Monaco asked hopefully. “Yes,” “Oh,” Monaco bit her lip and stared dejected at the floor. So much for her hour of freedom. “However, my sense of direction inside this place is really awful. So it's going to take me a while to find you, and drag you back...” Norway said, and Monaco caught a glimpse of a smug smile on his face for just a brief moment.

“You... volunteered to go look for me, didn't you?” Monaco was trying hard not to smile too much at him. “Maybe,” Norway said with a shrug. “Because you didn't want to listen to them either?” “Maybe,” “A bad sense of direction...” Monaco scoffed. “Anyone will know that's a lie. Aren't you a really skilled navigator?” “To be fair, inside you can't see any stars,” Norway said with a completely serious face as he pointed to the ceiling. That was the last straw. Monaco couldn't stop herself from laughing. She tried to keep her laughter muffled with her hands, but one glance at Norway and she sent herself in hysterics. Norway didn't laugh – but once she stopped laughing long enough to catch her breath he flashed her a smile. A warm one. Monaco wasn't sure if it had been real and without thinking she placed her hand on his face. “You're... you're not that scary when you smile,” she whispered in slight bafflement. Norway's eyes went wide and he recoiled away from her as if her touch had just burned him. Monaco stared wide eyed at him as he attempted to hide his face in his hands. 'Oh my god. He's blushing!' Monaco wanted to scream. “What is it with you French and personal space?” Norway asked with a muffled voice. “I don't know. You sat down here first, you tell me,” Monaco huffed. “Right. I'll take the blame for that one,” Norway sighed, appearing to finally have composed himself enough to lower his hands from his face – although Monaco could still see a hint of colour across his cheeks. “So you didn't come to drag me back as much as you came to hide yourself?” she asked and smiled mischievously at him. “Denmark and France have probably forgotten we were both supposed to be there too by now,” Norway grimaced. “They can talk anyone's ears off,” “Silence is rather rare to come by around here I admit,” Monaco sighed and curled her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and looking wishfully at the books in front of her as if they would magically grant her a door to some far away place.  “There's no escaping all these social things these days. It's meeting after meeting after meeting. I get so bored of them... don't you?” she turned her head and looked at Norway. “I was supposed to tend to my farm,” Norway grumbled. “Go fishing. Brew beer. But no. I had to come along and be diplomatic. I hate talking to people,” “We're talking,” Monaco interjected softly. “This is... different,” Norway sighed. “One person is fine. Besides. I have no voice in any matter any more. Might as well be dead,” he held his hand up towards the ceiling. “I'll probably disappear soon at this rate...” “Don't say that,” Monaco hissed. “I don't plan to disappear, so neither should you!” She frowned and punched his shoulder as hard as she could, which didn't do anything to Norway beside surprise him ever so slightly. Monaco looked at her hand and frowned even more. “Ow,” she whispered. “What are you made of? Stone?” “Probably,” Norway sniggered. “And ice,” he added with a slight smile. “Well that's just rude,” “You punched me,” Norway snorted. “I think that's more rude,” “And it did nothing to you! Couldn't you at least pretend it hurt?” “Ah yes, let me lie down and pretend you beat me,” Norway rolled his eyes. “I'm sure you will feel so much better if I fake an injury for a grand total of one second,” “You are such an ass,” Monaco hissed. “Oh no. What will you do? Punch me again?” Norway mocked with a smile. “Shut up,” Monaco glared her best glare. “I'll make you blush again!” “Nah, I'm over it,” Norway laughed, and Monaco was sure her heart stopped for a moment. 'How dare he have such a pleasant laugh?!' “Really?” Monaco smiled smugly as she carefully edged closer to Norway. “I think I can still make you blush...” she teased. “Oh?” Norway said, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Yes,” Monaco giggled and leant in to kiss him. Norway froze the moment her lips touched his. He was completely and utterly frozen. Monaco slowly pulled away and revelled in the deep shade of red his face had turned. 'This... this was a fun game indeed' she thought. Finally she could have some fun while France went about his stupid war-business. “Made you blush,” she proclaimed rather proudly and smiled sweetly at him. “Fine. You win this round,” Norway mumbled, clearly trying to once more regain his composure. If she had known it was this easy to knock a former Viking off his perch she'd have done it years ago. “Come along. Let's get lost a bit more together,” Monaco laughed and stood up, dusting off her dress. “What?” “Your horrible sense of direction without any visible stars,” Monaco elaborated. “You'll get hopelessly lost. So lost you might lose you way into my bedroom...”

Erik stood outside in the hallways, patiently waiting as Cécile snuck back out of Halldór's room. “I'm going to start asking you to sing me to sleep too,” Erik whispered to her as she closed the bedroom door softly behind her. “Not happening unless you bribe me with wine,” she teased. “Damn, what will cookies and milk get me?” “A kiss,” Cécile smiled and stood on her tip-toes, kissing his lips softly. “Fair deal,” Erik muttered and gently placed his hands on her hips. Cécile giggled as he leant closer and accidentally showered her in some flour. “We both need a bath too,” she sniggered softly as she watched Erik blush. “Or a shower,” Erik mumbled. “What's easiest to do together?” Cécile asked and smiled up at him with a wicked grin. “Shower,” Erik managed to utter almost without stuttering. “Mhm, I thought so too,” Cécile licked her lips and dragged him with her to the bathroom, taking care to lock the door behind them. Erik looked as if he struggled with the sheer concept of undressing, standing frozen in place as Cécile removed her own clothes. “This isn't a strip show just for you, you know,” she reminded him. “N-no, of course not,” Erik stammered, trying to undo undo his trousers with shaky hands. It was almost cute to see him so nervous, and Cécile momentarily pondered just showering alone. However, she abandoned that idea once Erik actually got all his own clothes off and stepped into the shower behind her. “How did he get flour down your back?” Erik muttered in disbelief. “Kids are magic in their own special way,” Cécile giggled and carefully undid her braid, letting her long hair flow down her back. She could almost sense Erik's hesitancy to come closer, almost shying away from her and the hot water. “I think I'll need help washing all this flour out of my hair,” she said and turned to smile a him, pleased to see his cheeks red and eyes fixated on his own feet. Good lord, a grown man should not be that cute, she thought to herself. “Come here,” she beckoned and pulled him towards her, laughing as the water hit him in the face for a moment. “You're too short,” he mumbled. “You're too tall,” she teased back and guided his hands to her hips. “But then again, you're the perfect height to help wash my hair... I can't do much to yours though,” she hummed. “No need,” Erik chuckled, hair soaking wet as he leant down to kiss her. Cécile welcomed the kiss, enjoying the sensation of his warm body against hers and the warm water and steam around them both. “Seriously,” Erik muttered as they pulled apart. “We're both going to have glue in our hair if we don't wash it...” “Way to ruin the moment,” Cécile huffed before leaning against his chest, sighing contently as he began to massage shampoo into her hair. “Never mind, just keep going,” she whispered. “You're going to smell like me,” Erik mumbled. “So like sea kelp, pine and coffee?” Cécile inquired and hummed. “The coffee scent comes later,” Erik replied. “I've not found a shampoo or soap that smells like proper coffee yet,” “Stick to the sea and forest ones then,” Cécile rubbed her hands over his back and smiled. “Suits you,” she added and settled for keeping her hands on his ass. “Sorry I don't have any other soaps...” he mumbled in return. “I don't mind. I like smelling like you,” Cécile hummed happily. “I wasn't planning on showing tonight, but here we are...” “Ah.. yes,” Erik swallowed nervously as Cécile pressed her chest up against his and smiled up at him. “You're allowed to touch me,” she whispered, watching as Erik appeared to mull her words over in his mind for a moment. “Can't be too loud,” Erik said as he lifted her up, letting her wrap her legs around his waist. “I can be very quiet,” she said, voice barely above a whisper as the water began to turn a little more lukewarm. “Don't doubt it,” Erik smiled and kissed her softly. “But your lips are turning blue...” “Okay, it's getting a bit cold here,” Cécile admitted in defeat. “I don't have your cold resistance...” “I'll warm you up,” Erik whispered, his voice contributing to her shivers more than the cooling water. She was more than happy to be wrapped up in towels, and even more so that he took his time helping dry and braid her hair. They tried to be quiet as they tip-toed to his bedroom, slipping under the cool covers that soon became more than warm enough. Cécile didn't want to sleep until she'd thoroughly explored all parts of his body, and Erik seemed to have the same thing in mind about her – kissing her from the neck and down till she had to bite her lip to stop herself from moaning his name too loudly. He definitively kept his promise of keeping her warm. Her cold shivers faded into shivers of pleasure as she let his hands and mouth wander over her body. Truth be told she feared Halldór would wake up at any moment and wander in to find them horizontally dancing in Erik's bed. However, when she voiced her fear out loud; the only sympathy she got from Erik was laughter.

“Idiot,” she sighed as Erik held her tightly and tried to stop himself laughing. “Horizontal dancing?” he managed to utter between fits of suppressed giggles and laughs. “An endearing expression for something naughty adults do,” Cécile huffed.

“Very endearing,” Erik smiled fondly. “Although I don't think I'd struggle explaining to him what sex is should he walk in on us. He wouldn't care. Too young.” “But when he's older?” Cécile bit her lip. “He'll be traumatized.” “He'll get over it,” Erik smiled and carefully brushed some of her hair away from her face. “Besides, why worry about something that's not happened yet?”

Cécile had to agree. There was no point. Halldór would likely sleep for a while longer, and she had no intentions of letting Erik go anywhere any time yet.

“I'm not quite used to being around kids for longer than a few hours,” she admitted with a sigh, resting her head on Erik's chest and enjoying the steady sound of his heart beat.

“It's a hard adjustment period,” “Indeed. You've had some years to get used to it...” she hummed and closed her eyes as Erik began to softly and carefully play with her hair.

“I appreciate that you're putting the effort in to adjust,” Erik whispered in return. “Does that mean you'll stop laughing at 'horizontal dancing'?” “Hardly,” Erik snorted. “I think you need to teach me if there's different forms of 'Horizontal dancing'. Is there a horizontal ballet? Horizontal river dance?” “Oh no,” Cécile laughed. “Too much leg work in those. But some Horizontal Tango or Salsa on the other hand...” “Oh do tell,” Erik whispered and held her tightly. “Sounds like fun,” “And hard work,” she reminded him with a gentle tap to the nose. “Well that doesn't bother me,” Erik frowned momentarily. “Good. Because I'm high maintenance,” Cécile winked. “Does that mean I have to hide my credit cards or simply surrender them to you?” “Surrender is definitively the most pain free option for you,” she grinned. “Hm, I will have to think about that then.” Erik tried to keep a straight face, but his attempt at remaining stoic was failing miserably.

“Don't think too hard or I'll leave you for someone richer,” Cécile teased. “Oh no, right in my pride,” Erik scoffed.

“The worst place to be wounded,”

“Indeed,” Erik smiled. “I might never recover you know...” “Oh you will,” Cécile laughed softly. “I've seen worse wounded prides than that. You'll surely pull through this hardship.” “Fine. I'll try to keep living,” Erik sighed dramatically. “If not for me, at least for Halldór?” Cécile tried to keep a serious expression, but it was hard.

“A compelling argument,” Erik nodded. “I'll keep fighting you for my credit cards then,” “Oh good. A battle is more fun if there's some equal force behind each party,” Cécile giggled. “I can't just run away and buy wine with your money if you won't at least try to stop me. No fun in it...”

“High maintenance indeed,” Erik chuckled. “What have I gotten myself into?” “Not sure,” Cécile admitted. “But I think I'm to blame.” “Mhm yes,” Erik mumbled and buried his face in her hair. “Seducing a single father. In many fairy tales you'd be the evil queen...” “Oh that is true!” Cécile giggled. “But doesn't that only count if the main character is a princess?” “Hm... maybe?” Erik yawned. “But I'll give you a chance. However if you start bringing my son poisoned apples we might have to have a talk...” “Poisoned apples are so last century. Cookies is the fool proof option,” “Please don't poison my son,” Erik pleaded. “I'm very fond off him,”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Cécile smiled and pressed a soft kiss to Erik's collarbone. “He's a little treasure to everyone,” “You've not seen his terrible two's tantrums...” “I strategically singled you out because he's over that age,” Cécile joked.

“Well stick around and you might get to see him be a grumpy teenager,” “If you both let me, I think I will,” Cécile smiled. “I'm pretty comfortable.” “Me too...” Erik whispered. Cécile smiled and let herself enjoy the momentarily peace and quiet that settled over the house. She didn't even lament the fact that Erik had to get up and unlock the door (just in case Halldór woke up). She just revelled in lying next to him, listening to him hum softly until she nodded off to sleep.

She liked this. Hell no - she loved this. Erik's home was quickly feeling like home to her too. A safe and warm home with more than enough love to share.

“Oh. Then I've been here 22 hours,” Solveigfrowned.“Goodness!” Cécile gasped. “No wonder you'resleeping on the essays. You need a break.”“But I'm almostdone....”“No.” Cécile replied and glared at Solveig.“You are coming with me.”“I...uh.. Okay,” Solveig letherself be dragged out of her chair by Cécile, not really caringthat a woman who only barely reached her chest was dragging her outher office and down the hallways. “Honestly, I know youcare about your students, but you've got to take care of yourselftoo,” Cécile scolded her as she dragged Solveig to her own office,ushering her to sit on the chaiselongue.“Whydo you even have this?” Solveig mumbled, running her hands over theplush fabric.“Art teacher perks,” Cécile winked. “Ioften use it for the life models.”“You mean naked peoplesit on this?” Solveig made a grimace. “Be quiet and takea rest or I'll personally knock you out with my shoe.”“Youwouldn't manage,” Solveig scoffed. “I'm taller than you.”“AndI did more than ballet in my youth,” Cécile huffed. “Lie downand sleep properly.”“All right, mom,” Solveiggrumbled, bouncing up and down on the chaiselongue a few times before deeming it a much better bed than her desk.

“It'snot bad,” she mumbled once she'd lain down.“Of coursenot. Finest furniture this building has,” Cécile smiled, offeringSolveig some draping fabric as a make-shift duvet.“Ofcourse. Weirdo art department,” Solveig yawned, struggling to keepher eyes open.“Sleep now,” Cécile insisted softly,receiving a mumbled reply before a soft snoring was all sheheard.“Stupid biology professors,” Cécile whispered androlled her eyes. “Never sleep.”

Solveigawoke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee, and wasn't at alldisappointed to find coffee and croissants waiting for her when sheeventually rolled out of her make-shift bed.

Cecilé squinted at her phone. Erik had sent her a text, but she was pretty sure it wasn't in any kind of human language. She made out a few words; hello, coffee and sleeping.

The rest were incomprehensible sequences of letters and numbers. “Drunk texting?” she mused out loud to herself. With a smile she decided to just reply none the less.           'If you're trying to ask me out for a coffee, please do it less cryptically'

A minute later her phone buzzed to life.          'Sorry. I was shopping and Halldór got a hold of my phone.'

Cecilé laughed to herself, imagining Halldór excitedly trying to write something on his father phone. Cutest little matchmaker in the world. Either that or having a kid was the best excuse for awful text messages. Either way – it was working in both their favour whatever was going on.

        'No harm done. Shame about the coffee date then' No harm in her flirting a little either. Cecilé was dying to see him again, but a little too proud to admit that so outright.           'We're baking cookies today (Halldór's request), you can come over and join the taste testing panel.' Cecilé stared at the invitation. It was very tempting. She didn't have anything else planned either beyond maybe hoover – and that could wait another day.         'I expect there to be tea to accompany the cookies.' She tapped the table while waiting for a reply, wishing Erik was faster at typing.        'Will coffee do?'

Cecilé smiled fondly at her phone, feeling like an idiot yet not really caring.

     'I'll let it do since it's you.'

“What should I wear?”Erik asked, standing the the doorway to the bathroom with nothing butjeans on as he held out a bright red and green sweater and a palepurple shirt.“Anything that’s not neon or knitted,”Cécile  replied as she applied her mascara, barely giving him asecond glance.“Why not?” Erik asked and turned to look atthe contents in his side of the wardrobe. “What about mysweater-vests?”“Because as much as I love you, they’reall hideous. And no. No sweater-vests either. You’re 28, not 88,”Cécile sighed, but her coy smile revealed she found it all a littleamusing.“Fiiiiine,” Erik said and shuffled back to thewardrobe to find something else to wear.“And don’t wearmismatching socks either,” Cécile called.“Fuck,” sheheard him reply and she knew that meant he probably didn’t ownmatching socks at all. Cécile sighed and continued gettingready.She doubted his side of the family would actually carehow she looked, not judging by how Erik dressed himself at least. Butshe wanted to make a good impression none the less.She’dbriefly met Erik’s younger brother, and he had a habit of stealingErik’s sweaters. Erik’s two older brothers she hadn’t met yet, onlyheard them on the phone and seen pictures off them. They looked likethey lifted trees up from the ground for fun and truth be told shewas mostly worried about what they’d do to her when they realised shewas likely half their height. Erik’s standing at 182 cm was more thanenough for her to deal with.So far Erik had avoided meetinganyone from her family – a feat in itself as her brother kepttrying to meet him by coming for unannounced visits. Françoi wouldhave succeeded if it wasn’t for Erik’s shift work at the hospital andmagical ability to suddenly have important plans he just hadto attend mere minutes before Françoisarrived.This time hecouldn’t hide.Not even if he decided to fake anillness.“Nervous?” she asked him as she watched him tryto tie his tie.“No,” Erik lied as he undid the failedknot for the 17th time. “Not at all,” he added with afrown.“Sit,” Cécile commanded and pointed to thebed.Erik did so with a heavy sigh, letting his tie just hangloose around his neck.“There’s nothing to be scared off,”Cécile reassured him softly as he carefully tied the tie. “None ofmy family members bench-press cars.”“That was once,maybe twice, andit was just car parts,” Erik replied with a snort.“A tenyear old could beat most of my family in an arm wrestlingcompetition. You’ve got nothing to fear,” she laughed softly as shefastened the tie pin before kissing his cheek.“Still…”Erik muttered. “I want them to like me…”“Well thatgoes for both of us,” Cécile smiled softly.“Who wouldn’tlike you though?” Erik said with a smirk. “Oh I don’tknow… a bunch of guys who think a weekend should be spent up amountain battling nature instead of at a fancy restaurant?”“Atleast your idea of ‘relaxing’ doesn’t result in broken bones,” Eriktried to hide a smile.“Don’t you guy keep tally of who’sbroken the most bones?”“Yeah. Preben’s in the lead afterhe broke several bones in his foot last month,” Erik smirked. “Bestsurgery I’ve attended in a while.”“See!” Cécilelaughed. “My family should be scared of you, not the other wayaround.”“Hrm,” Erik made a non-committal grunt andshrugged.“Come on. I’ll let you have a drink before theyarrive if you promise not to mention how many severed limbs you’veheld in the past year.”“Deal,” Erik smiled wickedly.He did visibly relax a little after she handed him a beer (ina glass. He wasn’t allowed to drink it out of can when theywere going to have guests). For herself she settled for somesparkling wine – just so she could offer the guests some too andnot look like she had plans to drink it all herself.The firstone to arrive was François– to none one’s surprise. Cécilesuspected he’d been hiding around the corner just waiting till it wasclose enough to six o'clock to ring the bell.“Erik!” Hegreeted with such enthusiasm Erik almost dropped his beer. “I’veheard so much about you and now I get to see you! My, my, myyyy,”he winked at Erik and Cécile wasn’t sure she pitied Erik or found ithilarious. “No wonder she’s tried to hide you, you could be amodel.”“Thanks…?” Erik replied a little uncertain,and Cécile nudged him a little with her elbow.“Don’t beshy. You have mirrors in this house, right? Surely you must see yourown beauty?!”“Ehhh… I tend to look at her actually,”Erik said flatly and gestured to Cécile. Françoisblinked andthen laughed so hard he had to lean against a wall forsupport.“Wonderful. Just wonderful,” he said between fitsof laughter. “You can keep her.”“I am not yours to begiven or kept,” Cécile reminded him coolly, but Françoisjustcasually waved her comment off.Françoisinsisted Erik show himthe flat, which he politely agreed to do – leaving Cécile to greetErik’s older brothers.They didn’t bother ringing the bell.They knocked once and let themselves in with little care.“Ohhello! You must be Cécile!” one of them greeted. “I’m Preben,”he said as he shook her hand. “That’s Björn,” he pointed to theother slightly taller tank of a man and Cécile mustered a politecurtsey for them both.“Nice to meet you,” Björn mumbled.“Where’s Erik?” Preben asked and looked around thehallway.“Being grilled about his entire life story by mybrother,” Cécile replied and pointed them in the direction of theliving room. “You might need to rescue him.”“Oh man. Ihope he’s drunk for this if not he’s gonna go into that story abouthow he had to remove a steering wheel from someone’s stomach,”Preben chuckled.“What’s for dinner?” Björn asked asPreben went to find Erik and François. “Do you need any help withit?”“Oh no, thank you for the offer, but I think we haveit all under control.” Cécile smiled softly up at the giant man.“Mhm,” Björn nodded. “Webrought cakes,” he added and handed her a Tupperwarecontainer.Cécile couldn’t help looking both surprised andstartled as she opened the container to find several cupcakes –each individually and beautifully decorated with different types oficing.“Is…that Erik and my face on two cupcakes?” sheasked and Björn nodded – a hint of a blush on his face. “Sorryif it doesn’t look like you…” he mumbled. “No, no,”she smiled up at him. “They all look wonderful!”“Thanks,”he replied somewhat shyly. “I like baking…” he added with a shrug.“Don’t all of you do? I keep finding Erik bakingbread in the middle of the night when he can’t sleep.”“Yeah,”Björn shrugged. “But Preben and I tend to bake at lessinconvenient times.” “Noted, glad I found the weirdestone out of all four of you,” Cécile laughed and led Björn to thekitchen – offering him a drink which he declined. “Designateddriver tonight,” he explained.“Soda then?” sheasked.“Water is fine,” he replied and tried to give afriendly smile – or at least Cécile assumed that was hisintention. Erik had warned her Björn tended to not really get hisexpressions to match his intentions.Françoisand Preben seemedto hit it off right away – much to Erik’s relief, because he couldescape the Frenchman’s grasp and hide with Cécile until hisyounger brother and Björn’s boyfriend Timo arrived – followedshortly by Cécile’s cousins Feliciano, Lovino andVeronique.Despite her initial fear that they’d all tear downthe flat – the biggest problem was who’s glass to fill upfirst.Feliciano and Veronique took it all in stride – whileLovino was visibly uncomfortable standing next to Björn and Cécileended up having to rescue him and move him towards the much lessscary looking Timo and Halldór.Veronique also had to bereminded to talk and not touch Erik’s family members too much – amemo she completely disregarded when it came to Halldór. The pooryoung man eventually gave up trying to get away and just let herlatch on to him.“Well, dinner was a success and no one haskilled anyone yet,” Erik whispered to Cécile as they made coffeeand prepared dessert.“Are you surprised?” she asked andsmiled.“A little. I’ve been close to punching your brothera few times tonight to be honest.”“Don’t worry, so haveI,” Cécile giggled and handed him some cups. “But they all likeyou.”“They all love you,” Erik retorted and gave hercheek a quick peck. “Hard not to, isn’t it?” she winkedat him.“Very hard,” Erik chuckled. “I keep trying tonot love you but it just isn’t working,”“You ass,”Cécile sighed and poked a sharp nail into his side. “It ispretty nice, isn’t it?” Erik turned his head and tried to get agood look at his own backside. “Your brother said so too.”“Ohmy god,” Cécile groaned. “I’m going to kill him.”“Betteryou than me,” Erik smirked.“Just tell me if he touchesit,” she replied coolly and placed her hand in Erik’s back pocket.“Your ass belongs to me,” she gave his as a little affectionatesqueeze and smirked.“I don’t remember seeing your name onit,”“That can be fixed tonight,” she smiled knowinglyand Erik made a half-hearted attempt to stifle his laughter.“Sothat’s what the black sharpie in your bedside table is for.”“Yes.Labelling all of your body parts so people know you’remine.”“Couldn’t you have just done that this morning so Icould have avoided your brothers inability to give anyone personalspace?”“Where’s the fun in that?” Cécile laughed asshe poured the coffee into an antique silver coffee pot. “You knowno one from the south of Europe have any sense of personalspace.”“Well aware of it,” Erik grumbled. “So nexttime he’s getting a scalpel in his spleen…”“Now, now.Don’t be so hasty. I’ll make it all up to you,” Cécile smiled upat him and gave him a wink.“Just let me get some coffee andcake and I might consider us even,” Erik said as he balanced allthe cups and saucers in his hands.“We’ll see,” Cécilesmirked and gave his ass another little squeeze before picking up thecoffee pot and joining their guests in the living room.“Cheater,”Erik mumbled and followed after her. He briefly pondered sneaking hishand up her shirt in full view of her family – but disregarded theidea when Françoisvery loudly asked her how he performed inbed.“Better than you most likely,” he repliednonchalantly and he was positive Françoishad never been so insultedin his life.“You can not beat a Frenchman,”Françoissaid with a frown. “Maybe. But I don’t reallyintend to find out,” Erik shrugged.“If you two continuethis conversation this coffee goes over both your heads,” Cécilewarned and Françoisheld his hands up and apologised profusely inFrench to her.His brothers were trying very hard not tolaugh and Erik gave up ignoring them. He chucked a sofa pillowstraight a Preben, smirking as it hit him square in the nose.“Youbetter remember who of us in this room knows all the surgeons…”Erik said darkly.“Yeah, yeah. You’re still younger than us.It’s our right to pick on you!” Preben laughed.“You’reonly a year older than me,” Erik reminded him. “Halldór is thebaby in this family.”“Am not!” Halldór protestedrather loudly, clutching his cup of coffee and giving his bestglare.“You are,” Veronique said and Halldór lookedutterly dejected.“Who wants cake?” Cécile asked, hopingto defuse the situation.“Me,” came the chorus of everyoneand she sighed in relief.So far no one had beat up anyone elseand she aimed to keep it that way.Even after some cognac andaquavit there were no further quarrels – expert Preben and Françoisgetting into a heated argument about pastry; which ended in a betthat they’d both make the best pastries for the next familydinner.“That was fun,” Cécile said as her cousins wavedher goodbye.“Fun?” Erik crossed his arms and leantagainst the door-frame of the living-room. “Really?”“Noone died,” Cécile giggled.“True…” Erik nodded. “Veryexhausting…” he added and yawned.“Sleepy already?”Cécile stepped closer and loosened his tie. “And here I was goingto make your ass mine tonight.”“Oh?” Erik’s eyebrowsrose a little in surprise and didn’t mind at all when she yanked himdown for a kiss.“Still too tired?” she asked with a coysmile.

The party her brother had invited her along to was to be held in a rather grand downtown hotel. 

Red carpets, chandeliers, people filling up your champagne glass without asking – the good stuff. Cécile was excited. In-between all her training it was nice to get one night where she could just enjoy herself. “This the place?” the taxi driver asked them and Francis nodded in reply. “Oh,” Cécile uttered softly as they stepped out the car, the hotel was definitely grand. Perfect. “Nice, isn’t it?” Francis laughed and strode towards the entrance. Cécile remained behind for a moment, simply to admire her surroundings for just one minute longer. However, across the road and a little to the left she spotted something that was far from grand. “Oh my,” she whispered, her eyes falling on a group of black dressed people standing outside a bar – leather and spikes appearing to be their dress code for the night. “Probably the bar 'Cerberus' holding a music night,” Francis explained when he realised his little sister had stopped walking. “Arthur sometimes goes there. Good thing we're staying away.” “Yes...” Cécile nodded, her eyes fixated upon one of the men who's torn black t-shirt revealed some intricate tattoos on his arms. She couldn't help but wonder just how far they went. “Very good...” she mumbled, not realising she'd been staring until the guy turned and caught her eye. She froze, terrified of what he'd do to her. Maybe come over? Threaten her? Chase her away? Cécile swallowed nervously – but the man didn't move closer. He flashed her a smile and gave her a wink before turning back to his little group of black and leather clad friends.

She let out a small sigh of relief and hurried after her brother. Best to keep away from people who dressed like they spoke to daemons she thought, glad to be beside her brother once more as he handed her some champagne before dragging her over to some people “she just had to meet.” Cécile did try to enjoy herself – but as the night went on the only thing she really enjoyed was the champagne. Far too many people had asked her what use she could have with a dance degree, and far too many people had stopped listening every time she tried to explain. Disheartened and not feeling like drinking with people who seemed to love art but disliked artists, Cécile slipped outside the hotel for some fresh air. Across the road she could hear the music coming from the bar – deep bass lines and a dark growling voice. It didn't sound very pleasant, but the grand hotel had looked ever so inviting and turned out to be the complete opposite. With a slight determination in her step, Cécile ran across the road and peered inside the bar through the open doors. She wasn't sure what the other bar-goers were doing could be categorised as dancing – head banging and running in circles wasn’t really her idea of dance – but they seemed to enjoy themselves a lot. She didn't dare go inside, choosing to remain outside and peer inside through the doorway. “You'll catch a cold standing out here,” a deep voice spoke and Cécile jumped from fright, spinning around – her face almost colliding into the man's chest. “I'm fine,” she insisted, trying to keep the fear in her voice away. “Really?” the man asked. “That dress doesn't look very warm...” “Left my coat in the hotel,” she retorted and wrapped her arms around herself. She stuck out like a sore thumb in this bar filled with people in leather and black. Her pink dress was impossible to ignore in the sea of dark colours. “Here,” the man said and peeled off his own leather jacket, handing it over to her without another word. Cécile stared at it for a moment before slowly taking it from his hands, momentarily worried he'd rip it away and laugh at her. But he did no such thing, he just shoved his hands in his pockets and waited for her to  put the jacket on. “Want to join?” he asked her, gesturing to the inside of the bar and the sea of people still running in circles. “It's very loud...” Cécile whispered in return. “Ah,” the man nodded knowingly. “Got that covered,” he said and pointed to one of the pockets in his leather jacket. “There's some ear-plugs in there.” “Oh?” Cécile wasn't sure she believed it, but as she stuck her hand into the pocket it turned out he was right. “Use those,” he said and flashed her a brief smile. “Thank you...” Cécile said softly, putting them in before following him inside, tiptoeing as if she was scared her entering would somehow make everyone turn on her. The band on the small stage shouted that they were going to be taking a break, and the people who had been 'dancing' started fanning out towards the sides of the venue or milling around the bar. Cécile felt trapped in a sea of tall people all looking like they'd happily commit a crime five times over. Everyone was wearing something with leather or spikes – and so far she hadn't seen anyone who didn't have a tattoo or piercings. She froze as a tall guy pushed past her, muttering a dark 'sorry' before continuing towards the stage. Cécile felt lost, she looked around frantically but didn't know where to go. “Wrong way,” the blond man from before said and reached for her hand, pulling her towards the bar – pushing others away so she could actually move. “What would you like?” he asked as they reached the bar. Cécile blinked, still tipsy and filled with courage from her numerous glasses of champagne. “I don't need anything...” she said, eyeing the bottles of liquor lining the wall behind the bar. “You sure?” the man said. “Not even a whisky?” “I prefer cognac,” Cécile said truthfully. “One beer and one cognac,” the man said to the bartender before Cécile could protest. She debated running out right now, but there were so many people and she was about half the height of everyone around her. Most people didn't even see her, if she wanted to get out she'd have to crawl – and that idea didn't sound nice at all. “Here,” the man said and handed her a small glass of cognac. “Thank you,” Cécile replied, sniffing the contents and taking a hesitant sip of the golden liquid. Much to her joy it certainly tasted like the real stuff. “Come on,” the man took her free hand and guided her away from the bar, shooing some intimidating looking men away from a bar table and stool in the corner. “You can sit here. That way you can actually see the stage,” the man explained. Cécile looked at the bar stool and sighed. Whoever invented these things had never thought that some people were too short to reach up to them without a stepping stool. The man seemed to sense her dismay, because he grabbed her gently by the waist and lifted her up with ease. “Ah!” Cécile exclaimed, heart beating a little too fast. “Whops. Sorry,” the man laughed. “You're up now.” “Yes... thank you,” Cécile replied, trying not too stare too much at his tattoos. She crossed her legs and glanced out over the mass of people, feeling a little less out of place now that the man's leather jacket covered the top half of her dress. The venue was a lot bigger than she'd originally thought – even if the stage was rather small, they made good use of the space. “What's your name?” she asked the man, clutching her drink for protection. For some reason the cool glass in her hand made her feel a little safer. “Erik,” the man replied and held his hand out for her to shake. “Cécile,” she replied and shook it, glad to actually have a name to call him by now – instead of tall and scary. “Do you come here often?” she asked him after taking a sip of her drink, blushing as she realised how awfully like a pick-up line that had sounded. “Eh,” Erik shrugged. “Mostly just in weekends. There's only live music every second Friday though, so I try to make these nights when I can. Music is always best live.” “Mhm,” Cécile nodded in agreement, even if the music in this place was probably far from her tastes. She watched him take a swig of his beer, most men had rather long hair – and she so far was convinced at least 80% of the people in here dyed their hair black too. Erik on the other hand still had short blond hair. At least it made him slightly easier to spot should she loose him in the crowd. “What do you do?” she asked as she saw the band begin to prepare the stage again. “Hm?” Erik turned to her, eyebrow raised as he looked at her questioningly. “Do you work?” she asked again. “Oh, yeah,” Erik nodded. “I'm a finance advisor.” Cécile almost chocked on her drink. “What?” “Don't look it now do I?” Erik chuckled. “No.. you don't,” Cécile coughed. “You'd be surprised how easy it is to cover tattoos up with a long sleeved shirt and a nice suit.” “Oh...” Cécile uttered, gaze wandering back to his sleeve tattoos – she really wanted to know the story behind some of them (if there was any story behind them). “And the piercings?” she asked. “These?” Erik pointed to the ones in his ears. “I just take them out,” he explained, removing one earring for effect and handing it to her. “Most people don't notice the holes anyway,” he shrugged. Cécile turned the earning around in her hands, it was pretty plain but still nice. “Not many business men wear earrings,” she commented. “Probably more than you think,” Erik laughed. “But few have one of these,” he said and stuck his tongue out, showing off a tongue piercing. “Ohh...” Cécile gasped. “It that a...skull?” she asked, afraid to lean too close but also dying to get a better look. “Mhm,” Erik nodded before closing his mouth. “I don't always take that one out,” he added. “Doesn't it feel weird?” Cécile asked, imaging it must feel awful to have something stuck in your tongue. “At first, yeah, but that you get used to it,” Erik explained. “Worst part is that I often hit it against the back of my teeth.” “I see...” Cécile lied, her mind wandering into thoughts of what it would feel like if she kissed someone with a tongue piercing. “What do you do?” he asked her, snapping her out of her daydreams. “I'm a dancer,” she replied a little hesitantly. “Dancer?” Erik echoed. “Wow. What kind of dance do you do?” Cécile blinked – that wasn't the reaction or question she had expected. “Mostly ballet, but I've done some more modern dances too...” “Oh wow. That's really cool,” Erik said, smiling genuinely. “I'm afraid in comparison we don't really do anything very impressive,” he laughed and motioned the the sea of people who were gearing themselves up for the music. “I think you guys maybe dance very...aggressively,” she whispered. “Well yeah, but that's half the fun. It's pretty safe actually. If someone falls, you pick them up. If someone tries to get out of the mosh pit: let them,” Erik explained. “At most you leave with some bruises.” “I'll just stay here if that's okay,” she said softly, clutching her drink and wondering if she should slip out when the music started. “Of course,” Erik hummed, draining the remains of his beer and placing the empty glass on the table. “But I'm going to go a few rounds.” “Okay...” she replied, watching him strip his t-shirt off and flinging in into her lap before he pushed his way towards the stage. Cécile stared wide eyed as the band screamed at the crowd to get ready – and the crown responded with what could only be some form of battle cry. She was equally parts fascinated and terrified.

As the music started, the whole room seemed to vibrate. She caught a glimpse of Erik in the crowd, smiling as he got pushed into a wall of other men. I looked awfully violent, but Cécile saw no bloody noses or broken bones. She saw people fall to the floor, get picked up by someone else and then continued around and around in a circle. There was a choreography in it all. She didn't see it at first – but when the second song kicked into high gear she started to appreciate it a bit more.

She cheered at the end of the song, the energy of the others in the bar getting to her. This was certainly an improvement from having to explain to ten different people that she had no intention of quitting dancing to become a teacher.

By the third song, Erik appeared by her side again, sweat dripping from his brow and chest and he was sporting some small red marks on his arms, abdomen and chest areas. Cécile was fairly certain those marks would become some spectacularly vivid bruises by the morning.

“That was actually fun,” she admitted as they stood outside the bar. Francis was probably looking for her and she figured she should probably start making her way home. “Good,” Erik replied. “Maybe you can come back next Friday? It will be a bit more quiet then,” he added. “Oh... yes,” Cécile replied. “Sure. That would be nice,” she said truthfully, actually looking forward to it. “Don't forget your jacket,” she said and shrugged it off her shoulders and handed it back. “Hrm,” Erik made a slight grimace, rummaging through the pockets and retrieving some keys and a phone. “Keep it till next Friday,” he said. “But you'll freeze,” she commented worriedly. “Hardly, I'm boiling,” Erik chuckled and ruffled his almost soaking wet hair. “Mosh pits are like a full work out.” “I can see that...” Cécile whispered, hoping it hadn't been to obvious she'd been admiring his body throughout the entire night. She bit her lip as she put the jacket back on, already rather fond of the heavy and warm material. It smelt like beer, coffee, sweat and cologne; but she didn’t mind. It kept her warm and safe in a way. “I'll try to wear something darker next time,” she laughed and tried to smooth some stray hairs down from her braid. “I felt people were staring at me...” “Nah,” Erik made a half-hearted attempt at a shrug. “No one really cares. Pink suits you,” he added. “Thank you,” Cécile stammered forward, blushing a little. “Black is a good colour on you,” she added with a soft laugh. “Hope so,” Erik chuckled before leaning down kissing er hand softly. “I'm rather fond of black clothes,” he grinned. “I can see that,” Cécile bit her lip and tried to hide her growing smile as her stomach started breeding butterflies. “You're very gallant,” she added, more than pleasantly surprised at his mannerisms. “Well I didn't think you were here for a one night stand,” Erik smiled and winked at her. “True,” Cécile giggled. “But I'll permit a kiss.” “Well if you insist,” Erik licked his lips, bending down again to kiss her cheek softly – Cécile was almost disappointed he didn't straight out French kiss her. That piercing was going to haunt her dreams till she actually got to feel what it felt like. “See you next Friday at 8?” he asked as he pulled away. “Yes,” Cécile smiled. “See you then,” she wrapped his leather jacket around herself and  waved at him before running back across the road. Her pink dress stained with sweat and alcohol – and she was certain she stank of cigarettes and beer, but that had been thrillingly fun. She would have a few things to explain to her brother, but that didn't matter. Cécile had enjoyed the hour at the bar far more than she had enjoyed the hours in the hotel. And despite his initial terrifying appearance – Erik was intriguing. Perhaps she'd even try out his way of 'dancing' next time. __________________________