Copenhagen, Scene 7
Title: Copenhagen, Scene 7
Author: Septemberoses
Fandom: True Blood/En Forelskelse crossover
Characters: Carsten/Eric/(Godric)
Rating: PG
Summary: Is our favorite XXL Viking brave enough to face down an angry mother so he can have more kinky sex with his fun-sized Danish boy? This is Part 2 of 2 (part 1 was Copenhagen, Scene 6.)
Word Count: 4,500.
Disclaimer: None of these characters is mine.
A/N: Thanks to Keenoled for the Danishing and Gruochrua for the beta and handholding.
Carsten rinses the last dish from dinner and sets it in the drying rack, then wipes his hands on the towel. It's just the two of them tonight, him and his mother. Even Mattias was allowed to go out with his friends to a late movie, although they've all got school tomorrow. But Carsten's being kept under house-arrest, safe from evil vampires.
They're talking but they're not talking, an uneasy truce. She's forbidden him from going out after dark, like a little kid, something she didn't do even when he came home from Boston in all that trouble. Of course, at that point she thought he'd left his trouble behind. She didn't know it had followed him to Copenhagen.
He's jerked off twice today, once in bed after his nap and once in the shower before dinner. He could do it again already. He imagines himself on his knees, right here in the kitchen, Eric leaning against the sink, unzipping his jeans ... fuck. Carsten's never been so horny in his life. He's convinced it's the residual effects of Godric's blood. He feels like he's losing his mind. His mother's not going to let him out of the house at night, and in three days Eric's heading home to Shreveport. It feels like a death sentence. Carsten's never going to get laid again.
The radio's playing in the other room, his mom's listening to jazz. Carsten dials up his iPod, furious. He hasn't heard back from Eric, which isn't a huge surprise, Eric's got some kind of vampire business going on and it hasn't been dark long, the sun doesn't set until nine o'clock now. Carsten's debated trying to talk Eric into helping him sneak out of the house tomorrow night, he doesn't care how much trouble he'll be in. He has to see Eric before he leaves. He simply has to.
He takes his phone from his pocket again, checks to see if there's a message he's missed. Nothing. He ponders this for a minute; a chill starts to creep down his spine. This must be the last thing in the world Eric feels like dealing with - some stupid drama with his teenaged boyfriend's pissed-off mother. Maybe Eric's there now in the hotel room, composing an email he'll send later, in the middle of the night, when Carsten's sleeping. He'll catch up with Carsten next time. Or in the fall, maybe, when Carsten's eighteen.
It's an unbearable thought. Carsten grips the edge of the sink, leans over it. The song ends; in the silence he can hear the distant knocking. He wipes his eyes and turns, grateful for something else to think about. When he gets to the hallway his mom's already opening the front door. Mattias must have forgotten his key.
"I'm Eric Northman."
It takes a full ten seconds for Carsten's brain to register that Eric's really there; the tall blond man standing in front of his mother under the porch light isn't an apparition conjured from Carsten's desperate imaginings.
Eric's wearing his usual black, and his skin is faintly rosy instead of deathly pale. He's fed recently, way more than he takes from Carsten. For a split second Carsten wonders who from. There's no way Eric's living on synthetic blood.
They're frozen like statues, door open, letting in the cool night air. Carsten saw his mother's back stiffen. She knows just who this is.
"You have to invite me in." That deep, silky voice; the faint, unplaceable accent. Eric radiates calm, like he's got all the time in the world instead of a few hours of darkness, but he still doesn't necessarily look like someone you'd let into your house.
"I don't know that I want to," his mother answers, her voice tight with emotion - fear? Anger? Carsten isn't sure. "Why should I trust you?"
Eric's eyebrow raises a hair.
"You shouldn't." His gaze drifts over her shoulder to meet Carsten's for a second.
"I don't trust humans much, either. Did you see the news? Another mass staking in Germany. They poured kerosene everywhere and burned the house down, too, just to make sure." Carsten can hear his faint disgust. "How do I know you're not going to try to stake me right here on your doorstep?"
"That's ridiculous! I'm not a murderer," she snaps. "I'm not going to do something like that in front of my son who's standing right there."
"No? Well, neither am I. Do you really want your neighbors hearing this conversation? Why don't you let me in, and you can yell at me inside, where it's private?"
"Oh, for God's sake-all right! You can come in." Angry. She definitely sounds angry rather than scared, although she steps way back from the door when Eric passes through it. He kicks off his boots politely and walks barefoot down the front hallway and into the middle of the room. He glances around, looking curious. What's he thinking? Does he visit many human houses? Or is he just interested in Carsten's?
"I'm not going to offer you anything to drink." She hasn't moved to sit down. She's followed and she's standing there behind Eric, arms crossed.
"That's all right." He looks faintly amused. "I already ate."
"Stay away from my son."
"Okay. Can I sit down?"
She doesn't answer. Eric sits anyway, folds his hands together, one long leg sticking out and one bent back under the wooden chair, like he's there for coffee and a friendly chat. He's not wearing his leather jacket, just jeans and a tight black tee shirt that shows his muscles, although there's a damp chill in the air tonight. Mostly the vampires adjust their clothing by season or occasion to blend in with the humans, since they don't feel cold; apparently Eric forgot his coat. Godric can't even be bothered with that, just flaunts his strangeness in what Eric refers to mockingly as his gay-Jesus outfits - pale caftans and pants that are made to order, and sweaters that are as soft as they are expensive.
Carsten drops himself into one corner of the sofa; after a minute his mom comes over and sits in the other corner. Now they're all sitting here together. Eric wiggles his toes. This is awkward.
"Did you really imagine I wouldn't find out?" His mother's decided to redirect her irritation at Eric. It's not a happy thought.
"No." Eric's face is totally unreadable.
"He's been hiding all this."
"I know. He probably thought you wouldn't be too pleased."
"And how pleased would you be if it were your son?"
"Not too pleased." Eric nods. He sounds conciliatory and unperturbed. Carsten glances around. This feels unreal, having Eric sitting here in their living room.
"He's seventeen," Carsten's mother adds, as if Eric didn't know that already.
"He is. Old enough to make his own decisions, don't you think? You trusted him well enough until a few days ago, even after last summer."
"And look where that got me," she snaps.
"If he'd told you the truth, would you have liked it any better? Would you have let him come stay with me at my hotel?"
"No, I wouldn't."
"He's done nothing wrong except lie to you. He's not involved in any of my business affairs. I don't take him anywhere except out for walks when he's in the mood for ice cream. He's safer with me than he'd be with some of his idiotic friends." Carsten's mind flashes back to his drunken escapades. That night with the Germans. Karl. The time he fell and hurt his foot, and then Eric healed him -- the first time he'd had Eric's blood.
"And what is this business of yours, exactly, that brings you here?" his mother asks, still in prosecutorial mode.
"Vampire business." Eric's slouching, looking relaxed. "I'm not sure how this whole great revelation thing's going to play out over the next few years. I've had dealings over here for centuries. Private business dealings. I'm not counting on the government to keep me safe if it all goes to hell and we're back to being persecuted again, more so than we are now. More than we were before. I'm sure you can understand that."
"Centuries?" She looks pale. "He won't tell me how old you are."
"I'm old." Eric smiles a little. "Old and powerful and rich; your son could do worse. And I like spoiling him with things he can't afford, just because I want to. Because it makes me happy, even though that's partly what got him into trouble. You should know - I hope you know already - that I'm not buying his love." Eric glances at Carsten, his eyes hold tender affection. "His love's not for sale. That's a relatively rare trait among humans, in my opinion."
"So you expect me to believe your intentions are honorable."
"As honorable as if I were human," Eric says, chuckling, "for what that's worth, which isn't much. Your son's a beautiful boy. I'm not holding him to anything. He can do what he likes."
"Why can't you - why couldn't you choose someone else?"
"I don't really know. I wasn't choosing any of this, not at first. I wasn't planning on falling in love with your son." That tender look again. Carsten's holding his breath. Eric's never shown his feelings like this in front of anyone else. "I met him outside my bar; did he ever tell you how?"
His mother shakes her head.
"No, I imagine he didn't. He and his friends were hanging around, trying to figure out a way to sneak in. There was some trouble, and they ran off and left him there. I wanted to keep him safe. I didn't picture myself sitting here months later, arguing with you about it."
"You're saying you're in love with my son."
"Yes." To hear Eric say it, just like that-
"He says you bite him?"
"Mom."
"Yes, although whatever you're picturing in your head right now is worse than the truth."
"And you two are definitely having sex?"
"Oh, my God, mom-" Carsten moans, covering his face with his hands.
"He'd be having sex anyway." Eric's smiling. "Not with someone who bites him, necessarily, but then he's not going to catch anything from me, either."
"But it's not-" she begins, then stops. God, what's she going to say now? Carsten cringes. "It's still not clear to me. Some people are saying … there's still an argument … being a vampire, it's not … catching?"
"Like what, leprosy?" Eric snorts. "No. I can bite him all I want, he's not turning into a vampire, believe me."
"He won't show me," she mutters. "The bites."
"No? They're nothing much." Eric's smile widens; no doubt he's thinking about where those bites are. "He's just being modest. You know how teenagers are around their mothers."
"He can't show me?"
"I don't generally bite his neck, you can see that for yourself. Do you want him running around with that kind of thing visible to anyone who looks? There are people who might hold it against him, even in Copenhagen."
"Mom, could we please talk about something else?" Carsten begs her.
"I thought you said you weren't ashamed."
"I'm not ashamed. I'm embarrassed."
"Don't you think that means something?" Her eyes flash at Eric. "That he has to worry about what could happen if people see those marks?"
"Yes, it means humans are ignorant fools. Not too long ago they'd have killed him for having sex with another man. There are plenty of places where they'd string him up for that even now."
"He was dating a girl before he left for Boston."
"You think he's gay from something in the water over there?"
"Mom, that's enough," Carsten interjects. "I was already gay. I just wasn't … sure."
"I hear there are a lot of drugs around vampires. I don't want him exposed to any drugs," she says firmly.
"Well, then you better move out of Copenhagen," Eric answers, shifting his legs under his chair, "although I'm not sure where you'd go. The jungle, maybe, but I think they chew some kind of leaves to get high."
"You know what I mean."
"Are we talking about the same kid here?" Eric eyes her critically. "Maybe you don't know your son too well after all. He doesn't do drugs. He doesn't even like to take aspirin. He's morally opposed to drugs."
"What about you?"
"I'm morally opposed to the government snooping over my shoulder," Eric said. "Look how well all those drug laws have worked out in the U.S., you know how many people they have in prison? As far as I'm concerned humans can do all the drugs they want, as long as it doesn't cost me anything."
"What about that vampire drug?"
"I told you. Carsten doesn't do drugs, human or vampire." No, Carsten thinks, I get my vampire blood right from the source. It's a good thing Eric's such an excellent liar. Carsten knows Eric better than any other human does, and he can't tell when Eric's lying. It's partly a vampire talent, but Eric was probably a pretty great liar even as a human.
"Well, I still don't like it, him running around with you. He's far too young."
"The age of consent in Denmark is fifteen, even for sex with vampires," Eric reminds her, raising an eyebrow slightly. "However you feel about it, it seems reasonable to me. And by this fall he'll be eighteen and living in an apartment, whether or not he stays in Copenhagen."
"He's living at home!"
"He can live where he wants to," Eric concedes, nodding slowly. Carsten's confused and then grateful; Eric's not going to press the issue right this second. They've already discussed it. Eric's getting him a place to live on his own, no dorm or roommates, so Eric can visit and Carsten can do as he pleases.
"You should be ashamed of yourself," she says, furious, glaring at Eric.
Carsten feels a rush of understanding and sorrow for her. He knows how much she's dreading him leaving, but she won't say it. They've always been close. He loves her deeply, and she doesn't want him to feel guilty. Instead she's picking this last, hopeless fight with Eric, knowing she can't win.
"You’ve raised a good boy," Eric says. He nods at her. His voice is kind, as if he understands too. "A smart boy. An honest boy who's a terrible liar and who hates upsetting you. He doesn't have a mean bone in his body. Let's take it for granted that I'm not your first choice for his boyfriend. You can spend the next six months making him miserable and playing cat and mouse with me, or we can come to an understanding about how and where he spends his nights when he's not with you."
"You're his mother." Eric leans forward and rests his elbows on his legs. "You worry about him, but you don't even know where he is most of the time, and I do," he says, aiming his appeal directly toward her. "He's watched day and night. I keep him safe, because he's mine. He's not going to get robbed, or knifed, or step in front of a bus some night while he's out drunk, I can promise you that."
"I never thought I'd be having this conversation," she says, looking defeated. Her eyes are shining. Carsten bites his lip.
"As I said, I never thought I'd be having this particular conversation either," Eric answers. He sounds both perplexed and amused. "But you're tired of being lied to and he's tired of sneaking around, and I'm tired of watching him lie and feel guilty. Why don't I buy you dinner and we can work out the details? I can get us a table anywhere you'd like to go."
"We've already eaten, but thank you."
"How about an ice cream?" Eric's shifted tactics and turned on the charm now that he's made his point. "We can go to Carsten's favorite place. There are only one or two things in this world he likes more than ice cream."
"I don't want to know," she says, trying not to smile, but Carsten can see it around the corners of her mouth.
"Ale, for instance. The boy loves his Belgian ale."
"You can stop right there," she says drily. "Is this the place on Strøget?"
"Yes. It's near the hotel."
"Which hotel?"
"The vampire hotel. Officially it doesn't exist. Unofficially it's run by the D'Angleterre." Eric pauses. "I can't tell you where it is, but it's secure, and you can reach Carsten by telephone any time you want to. I can give you the number. Or you can call his cell phone."
"So it does exist! I've heard rumors … it's just for vampires, then?"
"And their special guests."
"What's it like inside?"
"It's nice." Eric thinks about it and shrugs. "I don't know. It's a hotel."
"It's amazingly quiet," Carsten says, happy about the change in tone. His mother's being nice, she's made some sort of decision in their favor, it's obvious. "They've got soundproofing all over the place. Vampires have really good hearing."
"Is it … I don't know, dark?" his mother asks. She looks doubtful.
"It's spooky." Carsten nods. "No lights at all, just candles and cobwebs everywhere. And skulls sitting in little niches on the walls. It's got a dungeon-"
"That's very funny."
"Yeah, but I had you for a minute there, didn't I?"
"Come on, what's it really like?"
"It's all … fancy. Gold-colored, I guess. And … cream? Beige? Thick carpets. It's kind of old-looking, but in a good way. It looks expensive."
"It probably doesn't just look expensive, if it's Hotel D'Angleterre," his mother says with a small laugh. "Do humans work there?"
Carsten nods.
"Even a vampire hotel needs humans, like for daytime. And humans work at the desk. They've got better, uh, people skills." He's having trouble imagining a vampire actually waiting on anyone.
"And what are they like? The humans who work there?"
"They're … older than me, but young," Carsten says, after searching for a better word than hot. "They're very polite. And they're trained to talk in low voices, it's comical at first but you get used to it."
"How on earth do they wind up getting a job there, I wonder? Through the main hotel? Do they pass some sort of security clearance process?" She looks at Eric. "What do you think?"
"I'm thinking Carsten's general nosiness may in fact be inherited."
"Is it?" She arches an eyebrow. "I don't feel the least bit sorry for you, if that's the case." She looks back to Carsten. "What do you eat if it's a vampire hotel? Do you go out to dinner? They can't deliver pizza there, can they, if it's a secret?"
"They have a regular room service menu for humans," Carsten stammers, trying not to blush. Sure, some of the humans must be there on business, but he assumes mostly they're doing what he and Eric are doing, in general if not in the particulars.
"Is the food any good?"
"It's delicious," he says, nodding enthusiastically. "I bet I've tried almost everything on the menu, and their smørrebrød's really great." He's thinking of that last meal. That had been something. He feels his crotch going warm.
"Don't you get bored watching him eat?"
"Not at all," Eric says mildly, his eyes on Carsten. "He enjoys his food."
"True enough. He must be costing you a fortune, the way he eats."
"He's worth every øre."
Carsten pictures himself underneath Eric on the bed, shoving Eric's ice-cream-coated fingers into his own mouth while Eric fucks him- god, stop. He squirms uncomfortably on the couch. He is not getting a hard-on while sitting here next to his mother, it's too disgusting for words. Eric shoots him a look of amusement.
"All right," his mom says. "Ice cream it is. Let me leave a note for Mattias."
They're walking slowly down Strøget, which is packed with people even at this hour. Carsten's got his usual coffee ice cream on a cone; his mom's got her usual dish of sorbet, mango and raspberry, one scoop each.
There's been a fragile peace established. They haven't discussed Carsten at all. Instead, Carsten's mom and Eric are talking vampire politics. Carsten's mom has done a little pro bono work for the Danish Vampire League, which is news to Carsten. They argue about the hotly contested Vampire Marriage Act; Eric says it will never pass into law. Carsten's mom laughs and bets Eric 500 kroner that it will. Carsten mentions janteloven, one of Eric's hot-button topics, provoking Eric at one point to move his gaze halfway up the far wall in a perfect imitation of Godric's eyeroll, although he's managed not to curse once all evening. Surely it's a record for Eric. In between arguing and bites of sorbet, Carsten's mother's been asking Eric about where he's from and similar topics in an effort to figure out how old he is. So far Eric's eluded her, but if Carsten had 500 kroner he'd bet on his mother. Carsten's just happy to be here with both of them, eating his ice cream.
"That's odd," his mother says suddenly. "Look, Carsten-" She turns; he tries to follow what she's pointing at. "That boy who passed us a minute ago." She's lowered her voice. "That one there in the funny long white shirt. He looks just like you." She's staring at the retreating figure in the darkness.
It's Godric. Carsten can tell immediately. He stiffens and then shrugs, but fortunately she's not looking at him.
"You can't really tell from the back," she adds, thoughtful. "But he could be your brother."
Godric's still walking away from them; did he see them? Did he feel Eric's presence close by? He must have. Carsten thinks about that drop of Godric's blood, the way the two vampires seemed to get pleasure from his eating. Are they still connected that way? Carsten closes his eyes and swirls his tongue around his scoop of coffee ice cream like he's giving the world's greatest blowjob, puts his heart and mind into it. Next to him Eric makes a small choking sound deep in his chest. Carsten opens his eyes and smiles. Godric's come to a standstill. Carsten sucks on his cone again, thinking, glances at Eric, who's staring off in the middle distance with a look of intense concentration on his face.
His mother's talking; he tunes back in. He's pretty sure Eric's mind is somewhere else.
"-summer, after you graduate."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"You said you wanted to do some traveling before school starts. Where do you think you're going?"
"I'm not sure yet," he says. It's a lie. He knows where he wants to go. No more lies. "I was thinking maybe I'd go back to the U.S."
"Were you?" His mother gives him a look. "What's wrong with here?"
"The summers here are terrible," Eric says absently.
"What are you talking about? They're beautiful!"
"It's the sun, mom."
"Oh." She understands now, nods. They're already down to eight hours of darkness at night; in midsummer it's only six. In midwinter it's almost the opposite.
"I hadn't thought of that." She laughs. "What a strange way to go through life. What do vampires here do during the summer?"
"Leave, if they can," Eric answers. "The winters are nice, though."
"They're long and dark and dreary."
"Exactly."
"So, what would you do in the United States?" Her voice is brisk. She's teasing Carsten, but Eric answers.
"It's big. There are lots of places Carsten hasn't seen yet. Beautiful places. I'd like to show them to him." Godric's disappeared from view now, probably headed back to the hotel.
"And you're buttering me up, hoping I'll let you take him away again."
Eric nods.
"That's the basic plan, yes. How am I doing?"
"Better than I'd have expected. Carsten's visit last summer didn't go too well."
"Yes, but this time he'd have some supervision."
She smiles. Her eyes glint in the light from the shop they've stopped in front of.
"I can see why Carsten's so fond of you," she says, scraping the last of her sorbet from the cup before she drops it in the trash can beside them. Then she turns and steps right in front of Eric, a little close by vampire standards of politeness. As tall as she is, she still has to look up to meet his eyes.
"He's my life. You understand that."
"Yes."
"Nothing can happen to him. Nothing."
"I understand."
She sighs.
"It's getting late," she says. She looks at Carsten. "I'm guessing you're not in a hurry to come home."
"Not … really," he answers, wondering where this is leading. Is she actually going to let him go back to the hotel? He's still thinking about Godric. He wants Godric to fuck him while Eric watches. Or vice versa. Both, actually. Maybe Godric will give him another drop of blood first--
"You have school tomorrow." Her voice is firm, interrupting his reverie. "I expect you to be there on time." She looks back at Eric. "You should think about adjusting your schedule when you visit; he can't be up at all hours on school nights if you're going to carry on with this foolishness. Tomorrow he'll be on time-"
"-and sober," Eric finishes her sentence, nodding, pleased.
I'll be hung over and barely conscious, Carsten thinks. But he doesn't have any exams tomorrow, so who cares?
"I can walk home from here," she announces, buttoning her jacket.
"We can drive you. The car's nearby."
"I need the walk. I need to think what I'm going to say to Hannes."
"You don't think he's going to be delighted by this exciting news?"
"Not too terribly." She shakes her head, smiling. "But it'll be all right."
"I love you, mom."
She hugs him, a long hug, but he doesn't mind one bit. He kisses her cheek.
"Min øjesten," she says. Apple of my eye.
Author: Septemberoses
Fandom: True Blood/En Forelskelse crossover
Characters: Carsten/Eric/(Godric)
Rating: PG
Summary: Is our favorite XXL Viking brave enough to face down an angry mother so he can have more kinky sex with his fun-sized Danish boy? This is Part 2 of 2 (part 1 was Copenhagen, Scene 6.)
Word Count: 4,500.
Disclaimer: None of these characters is mine.
A/N: Thanks to Keenoled for the Danishing and Gruochrua for the beta and handholding.
Carsten rinses the last dish from dinner and sets it in the drying rack, then wipes his hands on the towel. It's just the two of them tonight, him and his mother. Even Mattias was allowed to go out with his friends to a late movie, although they've all got school tomorrow. But Carsten's being kept under house-arrest, safe from evil vampires.
They're talking but they're not talking, an uneasy truce. She's forbidden him from going out after dark, like a little kid, something she didn't do even when he came home from Boston in all that trouble. Of course, at that point she thought he'd left his trouble behind. She didn't know it had followed him to Copenhagen.
He's jerked off twice today, once in bed after his nap and once in the shower before dinner. He could do it again already. He imagines himself on his knees, right here in the kitchen, Eric leaning against the sink, unzipping his jeans ... fuck. Carsten's never been so horny in his life. He's convinced it's the residual effects of Godric's blood. He feels like he's losing his mind. His mother's not going to let him out of the house at night, and in three days Eric's heading home to Shreveport. It feels like a death sentence. Carsten's never going to get laid again.
The radio's playing in the other room, his mom's listening to jazz. Carsten dials up his iPod, furious. He hasn't heard back from Eric, which isn't a huge surprise, Eric's got some kind of vampire business going on and it hasn't been dark long, the sun doesn't set until nine o'clock now. Carsten's debated trying to talk Eric into helping him sneak out of the house tomorrow night, he doesn't care how much trouble he'll be in. He has to see Eric before he leaves. He simply has to.
He takes his phone from his pocket again, checks to see if there's a message he's missed. Nothing. He ponders this for a minute; a chill starts to creep down his spine. This must be the last thing in the world Eric feels like dealing with - some stupid drama with his teenaged boyfriend's pissed-off mother. Maybe Eric's there now in the hotel room, composing an email he'll send later, in the middle of the night, when Carsten's sleeping. He'll catch up with Carsten next time. Or in the fall, maybe, when Carsten's eighteen.
It's an unbearable thought. Carsten grips the edge of the sink, leans over it. The song ends; in the silence he can hear the distant knocking. He wipes his eyes and turns, grateful for something else to think about. When he gets to the hallway his mom's already opening the front door. Mattias must have forgotten his key.
"I'm Eric Northman."
It takes a full ten seconds for Carsten's brain to register that Eric's really there; the tall blond man standing in front of his mother under the porch light isn't an apparition conjured from Carsten's desperate imaginings.
Eric's wearing his usual black, and his skin is faintly rosy instead of deathly pale. He's fed recently, way more than he takes from Carsten. For a split second Carsten wonders who from. There's no way Eric's living on synthetic blood.
They're frozen like statues, door open, letting in the cool night air. Carsten saw his mother's back stiffen. She knows just who this is.
"You have to invite me in." That deep, silky voice; the faint, unplaceable accent. Eric radiates calm, like he's got all the time in the world instead of a few hours of darkness, but he still doesn't necessarily look like someone you'd let into your house.
"I don't know that I want to," his mother answers, her voice tight with emotion - fear? Anger? Carsten isn't sure. "Why should I trust you?"
Eric's eyebrow raises a hair.
"You shouldn't." His gaze drifts over her shoulder to meet Carsten's for a second.
"I don't trust humans much, either. Did you see the news? Another mass staking in Germany. They poured kerosene everywhere and burned the house down, too, just to make sure." Carsten can hear his faint disgust. "How do I know you're not going to try to stake me right here on your doorstep?"
"That's ridiculous! I'm not a murderer," she snaps. "I'm not going to do something like that in front of my son who's standing right there."
"No? Well, neither am I. Do you really want your neighbors hearing this conversation? Why don't you let me in, and you can yell at me inside, where it's private?"
"Oh, for God's sake-all right! You can come in." Angry. She definitely sounds angry rather than scared, although she steps way back from the door when Eric passes through it. He kicks off his boots politely and walks barefoot down the front hallway and into the middle of the room. He glances around, looking curious. What's he thinking? Does he visit many human houses? Or is he just interested in Carsten's?
"I'm not going to offer you anything to drink." She hasn't moved to sit down. She's followed and she's standing there behind Eric, arms crossed.
"That's all right." He looks faintly amused. "I already ate."
"Stay away from my son."
"Okay. Can I sit down?"
She doesn't answer. Eric sits anyway, folds his hands together, one long leg sticking out and one bent back under the wooden chair, like he's there for coffee and a friendly chat. He's not wearing his leather jacket, just jeans and a tight black tee shirt that shows his muscles, although there's a damp chill in the air tonight. Mostly the vampires adjust their clothing by season or occasion to blend in with the humans, since they don't feel cold; apparently Eric forgot his coat. Godric can't even be bothered with that, just flaunts his strangeness in what Eric refers to mockingly as his gay-Jesus outfits - pale caftans and pants that are made to order, and sweaters that are as soft as they are expensive.
Carsten drops himself into one corner of the sofa; after a minute his mom comes over and sits in the other corner. Now they're all sitting here together. Eric wiggles his toes. This is awkward.
"Did you really imagine I wouldn't find out?" His mother's decided to redirect her irritation at Eric. It's not a happy thought.
"No." Eric's face is totally unreadable.
"He's been hiding all this."
"I know. He probably thought you wouldn't be too pleased."
"And how pleased would you be if it were your son?"
"Not too pleased." Eric nods. He sounds conciliatory and unperturbed. Carsten glances around. This feels unreal, having Eric sitting here in their living room.
"He's seventeen," Carsten's mother adds, as if Eric didn't know that already.
"He is. Old enough to make his own decisions, don't you think? You trusted him well enough until a few days ago, even after last summer."
"And look where that got me," she snaps.
"If he'd told you the truth, would you have liked it any better? Would you have let him come stay with me at my hotel?"
"No, I wouldn't."
"He's done nothing wrong except lie to you. He's not involved in any of my business affairs. I don't take him anywhere except out for walks when he's in the mood for ice cream. He's safer with me than he'd be with some of his idiotic friends." Carsten's mind flashes back to his drunken escapades. That night with the Germans. Karl. The time he fell and hurt his foot, and then Eric healed him -- the first time he'd had Eric's blood.
"And what is this business of yours, exactly, that brings you here?" his mother asks, still in prosecutorial mode.
"Vampire business." Eric's slouching, looking relaxed. "I'm not sure how this whole great revelation thing's going to play out over the next few years. I've had dealings over here for centuries. Private business dealings. I'm not counting on the government to keep me safe if it all goes to hell and we're back to being persecuted again, more so than we are now. More than we were before. I'm sure you can understand that."
"Centuries?" She looks pale. "He won't tell me how old you are."
"I'm old." Eric smiles a little. "Old and powerful and rich; your son could do worse. And I like spoiling him with things he can't afford, just because I want to. Because it makes me happy, even though that's partly what got him into trouble. You should know - I hope you know already - that I'm not buying his love." Eric glances at Carsten, his eyes hold tender affection. "His love's not for sale. That's a relatively rare trait among humans, in my opinion."
"So you expect me to believe your intentions are honorable."
"As honorable as if I were human," Eric says, chuckling, "for what that's worth, which isn't much. Your son's a beautiful boy. I'm not holding him to anything. He can do what he likes."
"Why can't you - why couldn't you choose someone else?"
"I don't really know. I wasn't choosing any of this, not at first. I wasn't planning on falling in love with your son." That tender look again. Carsten's holding his breath. Eric's never shown his feelings like this in front of anyone else. "I met him outside my bar; did he ever tell you how?"
His mother shakes her head.
"No, I imagine he didn't. He and his friends were hanging around, trying to figure out a way to sneak in. There was some trouble, and they ran off and left him there. I wanted to keep him safe. I didn't picture myself sitting here months later, arguing with you about it."
"You're saying you're in love with my son."
"Yes." To hear Eric say it, just like that-
"He says you bite him?"
"Mom."
"Yes, although whatever you're picturing in your head right now is worse than the truth."
"And you two are definitely having sex?"
"Oh, my God, mom-" Carsten moans, covering his face with his hands.
"He'd be having sex anyway." Eric's smiling. "Not with someone who bites him, necessarily, but then he's not going to catch anything from me, either."
"But it's not-" she begins, then stops. God, what's she going to say now? Carsten cringes. "It's still not clear to me. Some people are saying … there's still an argument … being a vampire, it's not … catching?"
"Like what, leprosy?" Eric snorts. "No. I can bite him all I want, he's not turning into a vampire, believe me."
"He won't show me," she mutters. "The bites."
"No? They're nothing much." Eric's smile widens; no doubt he's thinking about where those bites are. "He's just being modest. You know how teenagers are around their mothers."
"He can't show me?"
"I don't generally bite his neck, you can see that for yourself. Do you want him running around with that kind of thing visible to anyone who looks? There are people who might hold it against him, even in Copenhagen."
"Mom, could we please talk about something else?" Carsten begs her.
"I thought you said you weren't ashamed."
"I'm not ashamed. I'm embarrassed."
"Don't you think that means something?" Her eyes flash at Eric. "That he has to worry about what could happen if people see those marks?"
"Yes, it means humans are ignorant fools. Not too long ago they'd have killed him for having sex with another man. There are plenty of places where they'd string him up for that even now."
"He was dating a girl before he left for Boston."
"You think he's gay from something in the water over there?"
"Mom, that's enough," Carsten interjects. "I was already gay. I just wasn't … sure."
"I hear there are a lot of drugs around vampires. I don't want him exposed to any drugs," she says firmly.
"Well, then you better move out of Copenhagen," Eric answers, shifting his legs under his chair, "although I'm not sure where you'd go. The jungle, maybe, but I think they chew some kind of leaves to get high."
"You know what I mean."
"Are we talking about the same kid here?" Eric eyes her critically. "Maybe you don't know your son too well after all. He doesn't do drugs. He doesn't even like to take aspirin. He's morally opposed to drugs."
"What about you?"
"I'm morally opposed to the government snooping over my shoulder," Eric said. "Look how well all those drug laws have worked out in the U.S., you know how many people they have in prison? As far as I'm concerned humans can do all the drugs they want, as long as it doesn't cost me anything."
"What about that vampire drug?"
"I told you. Carsten doesn't do drugs, human or vampire." No, Carsten thinks, I get my vampire blood right from the source. It's a good thing Eric's such an excellent liar. Carsten knows Eric better than any other human does, and he can't tell when Eric's lying. It's partly a vampire talent, but Eric was probably a pretty great liar even as a human.
"Well, I still don't like it, him running around with you. He's far too young."
"The age of consent in Denmark is fifteen, even for sex with vampires," Eric reminds her, raising an eyebrow slightly. "However you feel about it, it seems reasonable to me. And by this fall he'll be eighteen and living in an apartment, whether or not he stays in Copenhagen."
"He's living at home!"
"He can live where he wants to," Eric concedes, nodding slowly. Carsten's confused and then grateful; Eric's not going to press the issue right this second. They've already discussed it. Eric's getting him a place to live on his own, no dorm or roommates, so Eric can visit and Carsten can do as he pleases.
"You should be ashamed of yourself," she says, furious, glaring at Eric.
Carsten feels a rush of understanding and sorrow for her. He knows how much she's dreading him leaving, but she won't say it. They've always been close. He loves her deeply, and she doesn't want him to feel guilty. Instead she's picking this last, hopeless fight with Eric, knowing she can't win.
"You’ve raised a good boy," Eric says. He nods at her. His voice is kind, as if he understands too. "A smart boy. An honest boy who's a terrible liar and who hates upsetting you. He doesn't have a mean bone in his body. Let's take it for granted that I'm not your first choice for his boyfriend. You can spend the next six months making him miserable and playing cat and mouse with me, or we can come to an understanding about how and where he spends his nights when he's not with you."
"You're his mother." Eric leans forward and rests his elbows on his legs. "You worry about him, but you don't even know where he is most of the time, and I do," he says, aiming his appeal directly toward her. "He's watched day and night. I keep him safe, because he's mine. He's not going to get robbed, or knifed, or step in front of a bus some night while he's out drunk, I can promise you that."
"I never thought I'd be having this conversation," she says, looking defeated. Her eyes are shining. Carsten bites his lip.
"As I said, I never thought I'd be having this particular conversation either," Eric answers. He sounds both perplexed and amused. "But you're tired of being lied to and he's tired of sneaking around, and I'm tired of watching him lie and feel guilty. Why don't I buy you dinner and we can work out the details? I can get us a table anywhere you'd like to go."
"We've already eaten, but thank you."
"How about an ice cream?" Eric's shifted tactics and turned on the charm now that he's made his point. "We can go to Carsten's favorite place. There are only one or two things in this world he likes more than ice cream."
"I don't want to know," she says, trying not to smile, but Carsten can see it around the corners of her mouth.
"Ale, for instance. The boy loves his Belgian ale."
"You can stop right there," she says drily. "Is this the place on Strøget?"
"Yes. It's near the hotel."
"Which hotel?"
"The vampire hotel. Officially it doesn't exist. Unofficially it's run by the D'Angleterre." Eric pauses. "I can't tell you where it is, but it's secure, and you can reach Carsten by telephone any time you want to. I can give you the number. Or you can call his cell phone."
"So it does exist! I've heard rumors … it's just for vampires, then?"
"And their special guests."
"What's it like inside?"
"It's nice." Eric thinks about it and shrugs. "I don't know. It's a hotel."
"It's amazingly quiet," Carsten says, happy about the change in tone. His mother's being nice, she's made some sort of decision in their favor, it's obvious. "They've got soundproofing all over the place. Vampires have really good hearing."
"Is it … I don't know, dark?" his mother asks. She looks doubtful.
"It's spooky." Carsten nods. "No lights at all, just candles and cobwebs everywhere. And skulls sitting in little niches on the walls. It's got a dungeon-"
"That's very funny."
"Yeah, but I had you for a minute there, didn't I?"
"Come on, what's it really like?"
"It's all … fancy. Gold-colored, I guess. And … cream? Beige? Thick carpets. It's kind of old-looking, but in a good way. It looks expensive."
"It probably doesn't just look expensive, if it's Hotel D'Angleterre," his mother says with a small laugh. "Do humans work there?"
Carsten nods.
"Even a vampire hotel needs humans, like for daytime. And humans work at the desk. They've got better, uh, people skills." He's having trouble imagining a vampire actually waiting on anyone.
"And what are they like? The humans who work there?"
"They're … older than me, but young," Carsten says, after searching for a better word than hot. "They're very polite. And they're trained to talk in low voices, it's comical at first but you get used to it."
"How on earth do they wind up getting a job there, I wonder? Through the main hotel? Do they pass some sort of security clearance process?" She looks at Eric. "What do you think?"
"I'm thinking Carsten's general nosiness may in fact be inherited."
"Is it?" She arches an eyebrow. "I don't feel the least bit sorry for you, if that's the case." She looks back to Carsten. "What do you eat if it's a vampire hotel? Do you go out to dinner? They can't deliver pizza there, can they, if it's a secret?"
"They have a regular room service menu for humans," Carsten stammers, trying not to blush. Sure, some of the humans must be there on business, but he assumes mostly they're doing what he and Eric are doing, in general if not in the particulars.
"Is the food any good?"
"It's delicious," he says, nodding enthusiastically. "I bet I've tried almost everything on the menu, and their smørrebrød's really great." He's thinking of that last meal. That had been something. He feels his crotch going warm.
"Don't you get bored watching him eat?"
"Not at all," Eric says mildly, his eyes on Carsten. "He enjoys his food."
"True enough. He must be costing you a fortune, the way he eats."
"He's worth every øre."
Carsten pictures himself underneath Eric on the bed, shoving Eric's ice-cream-coated fingers into his own mouth while Eric fucks him- god, stop. He squirms uncomfortably on the couch. He is not getting a hard-on while sitting here next to his mother, it's too disgusting for words. Eric shoots him a look of amusement.
"All right," his mom says. "Ice cream it is. Let me leave a note for Mattias."
They're walking slowly down Strøget, which is packed with people even at this hour. Carsten's got his usual coffee ice cream on a cone; his mom's got her usual dish of sorbet, mango and raspberry, one scoop each.
There's been a fragile peace established. They haven't discussed Carsten at all. Instead, Carsten's mom and Eric are talking vampire politics. Carsten's mom has done a little pro bono work for the Danish Vampire League, which is news to Carsten. They argue about the hotly contested Vampire Marriage Act; Eric says it will never pass into law. Carsten's mom laughs and bets Eric 500 kroner that it will. Carsten mentions janteloven, one of Eric's hot-button topics, provoking Eric at one point to move his gaze halfway up the far wall in a perfect imitation of Godric's eyeroll, although he's managed not to curse once all evening. Surely it's a record for Eric. In between arguing and bites of sorbet, Carsten's mother's been asking Eric about where he's from and similar topics in an effort to figure out how old he is. So far Eric's eluded her, but if Carsten had 500 kroner he'd bet on his mother. Carsten's just happy to be here with both of them, eating his ice cream.
"That's odd," his mother says suddenly. "Look, Carsten-" She turns; he tries to follow what she's pointing at. "That boy who passed us a minute ago." She's lowered her voice. "That one there in the funny long white shirt. He looks just like you." She's staring at the retreating figure in the darkness.
It's Godric. Carsten can tell immediately. He stiffens and then shrugs, but fortunately she's not looking at him.
"You can't really tell from the back," she adds, thoughtful. "But he could be your brother."
Godric's still walking away from them; did he see them? Did he feel Eric's presence close by? He must have. Carsten thinks about that drop of Godric's blood, the way the two vampires seemed to get pleasure from his eating. Are they still connected that way? Carsten closes his eyes and swirls his tongue around his scoop of coffee ice cream like he's giving the world's greatest blowjob, puts his heart and mind into it. Next to him Eric makes a small choking sound deep in his chest. Carsten opens his eyes and smiles. Godric's come to a standstill. Carsten sucks on his cone again, thinking, glances at Eric, who's staring off in the middle distance with a look of intense concentration on his face.
His mother's talking; he tunes back in. He's pretty sure Eric's mind is somewhere else.
"-summer, after you graduate."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"You said you wanted to do some traveling before school starts. Where do you think you're going?"
"I'm not sure yet," he says. It's a lie. He knows where he wants to go. No more lies. "I was thinking maybe I'd go back to the U.S."
"Were you?" His mother gives him a look. "What's wrong with here?"
"The summers here are terrible," Eric says absently.
"What are you talking about? They're beautiful!"
"It's the sun, mom."
"Oh." She understands now, nods. They're already down to eight hours of darkness at night; in midsummer it's only six. In midwinter it's almost the opposite.
"I hadn't thought of that." She laughs. "What a strange way to go through life. What do vampires here do during the summer?"
"Leave, if they can," Eric answers. "The winters are nice, though."
"They're long and dark and dreary."
"Exactly."
"So, what would you do in the United States?" Her voice is brisk. She's teasing Carsten, but Eric answers.
"It's big. There are lots of places Carsten hasn't seen yet. Beautiful places. I'd like to show them to him." Godric's disappeared from view now, probably headed back to the hotel.
"And you're buttering me up, hoping I'll let you take him away again."
Eric nods.
"That's the basic plan, yes. How am I doing?"
"Better than I'd have expected. Carsten's visit last summer didn't go too well."
"Yes, but this time he'd have some supervision."
She smiles. Her eyes glint in the light from the shop they've stopped in front of.
"I can see why Carsten's so fond of you," she says, scraping the last of her sorbet from the cup before she drops it in the trash can beside them. Then she turns and steps right in front of Eric, a little close by vampire standards of politeness. As tall as she is, she still has to look up to meet his eyes.
"He's my life. You understand that."
"Yes."
"Nothing can happen to him. Nothing."
"I understand."
She sighs.
"It's getting late," she says. She looks at Carsten. "I'm guessing you're not in a hurry to come home."
"Not … really," he answers, wondering where this is leading. Is she actually going to let him go back to the hotel? He's still thinking about Godric. He wants Godric to fuck him while Eric watches. Or vice versa. Both, actually. Maybe Godric will give him another drop of blood first--
"You have school tomorrow." Her voice is firm, interrupting his reverie. "I expect you to be there on time." She looks back at Eric. "You should think about adjusting your schedule when you visit; he can't be up at all hours on school nights if you're going to carry on with this foolishness. Tomorrow he'll be on time-"
"-and sober," Eric finishes her sentence, nodding, pleased.
I'll be hung over and barely conscious, Carsten thinks. But he doesn't have any exams tomorrow, so who cares?
"I can walk home from here," she announces, buttoning her jacket.
"We can drive you. The car's nearby."
"I need the walk. I need to think what I'm going to say to Hannes."
"You don't think he's going to be delighted by this exciting news?"
"Not too terribly." She shakes her head, smiling. "But it'll be all right."
"I love you, mom."
She hugs him, a long hug, but he doesn't mind one bit. He kisses her cheek.
"Min øjesten," she says. Apple of my eye.