*This was written before the release of "Dead and Gone." I just wasn't able to get it finished until now.


Tangled Up

Consciousness slowly began to descend upon Sookie, and with it came a rush of memories from the night before. As her slow deep breaths began to shift to that of wakefulness, the events of the previous night started to play out in her sleepy mind. The memory was fuzzy, almost dreamy, but her half-conscious mind wasn't making anything up. Everything that was going through her thoughts had happened.

Roy, according to the embroidered patch on his mechanics shirt, had been about as big as a truck and just as greasy. He'd looked to be in his late thirties and had been wearing a stained and worn out white t-shirt that strained to cover his large beer belly. And his baldhead had been as shiny as the gazing balls she always saw in the garden department at Wal-Mart. The moment he'd walked into Merlotte's, Sookie had known he was trouble, and she hadn't needed to read his thoughts to know that. She'd tried, with all of her might, to wish and will him into Arlene's section, but it hadn't worked.

And from the look on her ex-friend's face, Sookie had known that Arlene had been hoping Roy would sit in her area. A quick dip into her mind had told Sookie that Arlene thought she deserved it.

Just when Sookie thought the other woman couldn't get any worse, the redhead would prove just how wrong she was about that.

Standing at the counter, watching Arlene smirk, Sookie had wondered if that was the real reason she was always so touchy about having her thoughts read. Like she didn't want anyone to know how awful she really was or something like that. Deep down, Sookie had known that was an irrational thought, that no one liked to have their mind read without their permission. But the idea had made her feel a little better in a very small and petty way anyway.

When she'd picked up her order pad, Sookie had felt herself fill with dread. She'd had no desire to go anywhere near the burly man, but it had been inevitable. She had been about to make her way over to Roy's table when Sam had walked up next to her.

He hadn't touched her, but he'd been standing so close that he might as well have. And when he'd spoken, it had been low and raspy and right in her ear, sending a tingle down her spine. "Look, Sookie, I can have Terry take that table if you want."

"No, Sam. I got it." Her voice had been surer than she'd felt, giving her an extra dose of much needed confidence. It had been extremely tempting to pass off the table, but she'd refused. After vampires, werewolves, witches and an array of other supernatural creatures, Sookie hadn't been about to let one big, creepy man scare her off. And on top of that, Arlene and some of her Fellowship buddies had been watching her from a table across the room. That alone had been enough to keep her from backing down.

"Alright. But I'll be watching from behind the bar." Somehow, he'd managed to step closer without coming in contact with her. And even though they still hadn't been touching, Sookie had felt a few of his stray, wiry hairs tickling her cheek. When she'd turned to look at him, they had been almost nose to nose.

"Thanks, Sam." She'd put on her brightest, fakest smile, the one she always wore when trying to block out the thoughts of those around her. It was the smile that led most of the people in Bon Tempts to believe she was crazy. From the look on her boss's face Sookie had known that he'd seen right through it. "If I need you, you'll be the first to know. Ok?" When Sam hadn't replied, she'd felt the smile on her face falter. Sam's eyes had searched her face for something she couldn't quite put her finger on for long that it had seemed like an eternity before her boss had finally replied.

"Ok." Sam had sounded unsure, but he'd nodded his head anyway. Before letting her go, he'd reached out and squeezed her shoulder, holding on for longer than was necessary. "Ok."

Sookie hadn't responded or reached out to him. Instead, she'd recovered her grin and turned away. The sooner she got over to the table, the sooner Roy would leave.

She'd just clicked open her pen and had been about to ask Roy what he wanted to drink when she'd felt his large, rough hand slide around her waist, pulling her closer to him. He'd smelled as if he'd already had a few drinks, and from the thoughts she'd picked up on, that hadn't been all he planned on grabbing.

"Ok, Mr. Grabby Hands, you need to let go." Sookie's voice had been light even though her skin had been crawling.

When he hadn't released her, she'd tried to worm her way out of Roy's grasp, but the movements had only encouraged him. He'd grunted a low laugh as his hand had slid from her waist to the curve of her backside. As she'd tried once again to pull away, Sookie had wondered why no one was coming to help her.

When it came to his staff, Sam had a strict "no hands" policy. So normally things like being grabbed or man handled weren't a problem. The locals knew to keep their hands to themselves, and they had a habit of making sure that the out of town-ers stuck to the rules as well. More than once she'd been saved from such a situation by one of Merlotte's regulars.

But occasionally someone would come into the bar who wasn't a regular. And sometimes they would be drunker than normal and unconscious of what was going on around them.

And last night… none of the patrons had been paying attention.

Once again, Sookie had tried to pry herself out of Roy's monster grip. And once again, it hadn't worked. Instead, he'd only tightened his grip. She'd thought about smacking him with her tray until she'd remembered that she hadn't brought it with her to the table because Roy hadn't ordered anything yet. Without her trusty tray, she'd felt helpless, uncomfortable.

Rarely did the customers of Merlotte's fright her. In her years as a barmaid there, she'd handled some pretty mean drunks, and while she hated dealing with them, they never really caused her any trouble. But right at that moment, unable to move or defend herself Sookie had been scared. She hadn't even tried to stop herself from yelling out, "Sam," confident that his enhanced hearing would pick her voice up over the din of the bar. And as the name had left her mouth, she couldn't help but wonder where he was and why he hadn't noticed what was happening.

But within seconds, Sam had been by her side, his shifter speed allowing him to get through the crowd more quickly than was normal for a regular human. His reddish brown hair had been blown back away from his face, and his features had been twisted with anger. He'd looked more like an angry lion than ever. "I'm sorry. I couldn't see around -"

Sookie had stood, staring at her boss, wondering why he was bothering with an explanation right then. As Sam watched her anxiously, Roy had gone from gripping to massaging while giving the other man a very serious, dangerous look. "Not the time, Sam." Her voice had been higher than normal and a little rushed. She'd been sure that that would catch her boss' attention.

He'd stopped speaking instantly, and his eyes had dropped to the hand that had been glued to her rear end. Sookie had seen him shift from friend to animal in less than a second's time. Sam hadn't actually changed forms, but his energy had seemed to shift from human to something more primal, instinctual. It was in his eyes and the set of his shoulders. She could almost feel the shifter inside of him fighting to take over. She'd tried to back away, but Roy had only tightened his hold on her.

"Sir, you're going to have to let go of the waitress." Sam's voice had been hard, angry. "We don't allow -"

Exactly what had happened after that, Sookie hadn't been sure.

But when all was said and done, Sam had been out cold with a quickly blackening eye and a split lip. Roy had been nowhere to be seen, and Sookie had felt a bruise forming on her left cheek. The music had still been raging, but everyone in the bar had been silent.

Even Arlene.

The bar had emptied out pretty quickly after that. As it was, it had been almost closing time, but Merlotte's had never been totally empty that close to closing. And some nights Sam had had to usher some of the heavier drinkers out of the bar and into cabs.

But last night, everyone had seemed to find the way out earlier than normal. Whether it had been because the patrons had been embarrassed for not having come to the aid of one of their own or because of the fight, Sookie hadn't known. Nor had she cared. The only thing that mattered had been her boss.

Sookie had spent the next few hours tending to Sam and his eye that had completely swollen shut. Once he'd woken up and all of the waitresses had fussed over him (Arlene included), Sookie had gotten him an ice pack for his eye and a rag for his lip.

Unable to do anything else for him, the blonde had cleaned up the mess from the fight, amazed by the amount of broken glass and spilled alcohol, given that Roy hadn't even ordered a drink yet. After that, she'd cleaned not only her section for the night but helped with the bar and part of the kitchen as well.

With nothing else to clean, everyone had left, but Sookie had stayed behind with Sam. There hadn't really been anything she could do, but she'd felt bad at the thought of leaving Sam alone after he'd been knocked out because of her.

Sookie had walked him across the parking lot to his trailer, offering to stay the night to look after him. Sam had said no, that he was fine and that she herself was looking a little worse for wear. But even though he'd promised he was fine, she still hadn't felt right about leaving him alone. Only after making sure that Sam was settled and tucked in for the night had she left.

By the time Sookie had set foot in her house, she'd been completely beat, the exhaustion from the past few hours had firmly set in on the drive home. Simply too tired to care, she'd taken off her shoes and bra and crawled into bed. And as she slipped into unconsciousness, she'd managed to pull the elastic band out of her blonde hair, not bothering to smooth the locks or brush them out.

One last sleepy glance at the clock had told her in bright red fluorescent letters that it was 3:58 am.

When the previous nights events finished re-playing themselves in her sleepy mind, Sookie felt full consciousness overtake her even though her body protested. Glancing over at the clock beside her bed, Sookie's eyes widened in shock. It was just after five o'clock. She couldn't believe that she'd only been asleep for an hour. Even though her limbs longed to lay back down, it felt like an eternity since she'd gone to bed.

But when she looked out the bedroom window, Sookie realized that the sun wasn't rising, it was setting.

Once again she checked the clock, and she couldn't believe her eyes when it read pm instead of am in little red digital letters. Shocked that she'd slept for thirteen hours, Sookie dragg herself out of bed and into the bathroom. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed her terrible suspicions.

Her hair, her beautiful blonde hair, was sticking up every which way, forming monstrous peaks and valleys. There was no way an hour of sleep could have wreaked that much havoc on her tresses, no matter how messy it had been when she'd went to sleep.

Sighing to herself, Sookie ignored the rat's nest that was her hair. It was simply too depressing to tackle before a good, thorough teeth brushing. Before grabbing her toothbrush, Sookie pulled the door shut behind her. Even though no one would be wandering into her bathroom (or bedroom) while she was still in there, or so she hoped, Sookie felt more comfortable behind the closed door. And after squeezing a generous amount of minty paste over the worn bristles of her brush, she stuck it in her mouth, sighing in relief. Mint had never tasted so good.

Teeth brushed, face (very carefully) washed, Sookie walked back into her bedroom to grab a change of clothes and her hairbrush out of her purse. She wanted to attack the snarly mess that was her hair before jumping in the shower, but what she saw waiting in her bedroom caused her to stop dead in her tracks. If it weren't for the fact that the face washing had completely woken her up, Sookie would have thought she was dreaming.

Instead of finding her bedroom empty, Sookie was met by a very tall, very blonde vampire on her freshly made bed.

"Eric." Oddly enough, she wasn't surprised. He had snuck into her house so many times that it had become old hat.

"Sookie, my lover, you look terrible." Eric's voice was amused. Smiling widely, he took a moment to scrunch up his nose, making a show out of the process. "But at least you've brushed your teeth." His radiant smile widened even more as Sookie glowered at him. He was stretched out on top of her comforter, dressed in his favorite outfit, jeans and a Fangtasia t-shirt.

"As nice as this unexpected visit is," the sarcasm was evident in her tone, "why are you here?" Sookie padded further into the room, her socked feet still aching from the night before. What she had really wanted to ask was, 'how are you here.' With the change of the vampire regime taking up almost all of Eric's time, she hadn't seen him in quite a while. But even though she wanted to ask, Sookie had no desire to delve into the wonderful world of vampire politics that evening.

The smile left Eric's handsome face instantly, and Sookie wished she hadn't spoken at all. A serious Eric generally led to serious things, which was another thing she had no desire to deal with right at that moment. "The shifter called. He said that you had had a rough night…"

Sookie could feel his eyes examining the brilliant purple and blue bruise on her cheek as if he'd just noticed it, and she could feel the anger in his blood thanks to their bond. Unable to stand the scrutiny any longer, Sookie turned her head, causing her messy blonde hair to cover the mark on her check. When she finally spoke, her voice was tentative. "So… Sam called?" Spotting the handle of her brush sticking out her purse, she went to grab it. But what she hadn't planned on was Eric reaching out and pulling her onto the bed.

The question forgotten, she tried to fight back, but even with her slightly enhanced strength, it was useless. One minute her hand was wrapped around the thick handle of her brush and the next she was in bed, her back up against Eric's massive chest. She'd been so stunned, and it had happened so fast that she hadn't even let out a shriek of protest. Positive that he wouldn't let her get up, Sookie quit struggling, but she didn't relax.

"Yes, he called." Sounding satisfied with the situation, Eric released his hold on her body.

Glad to be somewhat free, Sookie pulled away just enough so she could look at the vampire behind her. "And that's the only reason you came?"

Eric reached out his hand and ran it gently over the blemish on her cheek. His cool skin was soothing against the sore spot. "What do you think?"

Even though he barely touched her, Sookie winced in pain. She couldn't remember what she'd been hit with, but whatever it was had hurt. In response, Eric pulled back his hand, his face hardening once again. "He also asked me to tell you not to worry about coming in -"

"Oh no! I'm late!" Up till then, Sookie had completely forgotten that she was supposed to be working the night shift again. She'd tried to scramble off the bed, but Eric wouldn't let her move. He had both of his arms wrapped securely around her stomach as she fought against him. "I have to go!"

"Sookie, if I could glamour you right now, I would." Her attempts to get up had become half-hearted as the vampire's words sunk in. "Your boss has graciously given you the night off. Now, relax."

The moment the word 'relax' hit her ears, Sookie felt herself do just that. She wasn't sure if it was because of the tone of his voice or the deluge of calm she suddenly felt coming from him. Part of her thought that it was a little of both.

"There now, that's better." When she had finally settled down, Eric pulled her back against his chest again. "Now tell me, how are you?"

"Fine." Realizing that resistance was futile, Sookie had allowed herself to be pulled back into Eric's embrace. Even though it wasn't a bad place to be, she knew that if he wanted her there, she'd be there no matter what. "Just a little sore." Her voice sounded upset even to her own ears, and she leaned her head back against Eric's chest as weariness began to seep into her bones.

"Hmmmm…" The sound was low in Eric's throat, expelled on a forced exhale. "I don't believe you."

Sookie couldn't blame him. She hadn't even believed herself. "It's just that…" Eric didn't say anything, but she knew his eyebrows were raised expectantly. "My hair is a disaster." She continued speaking in a rush, feeling Eric's chest begin to shake with laughter. "I can handle the bruises and the sore muscles. But my hair -" When the explosion of laughter erupted from behind her, Sookie stopped. She just couldn't bear to go on, and she could feel an angry flush creeping up her neck.

"Is that all?" Eric was still roaring with laughter. He wasn't even trying to stop.

Irritated, Sookie crossed her arms over her chest, her hairbrush still clutched in her hand. "I bet you wouldn't be so amused if it were your hair." Her voice was a little more than miffed.

Eric sobered up instantly, but there was still a hint of mischief in his voice. "As much as it pains me to admit it, I suppose you're right."

Completely shocked by what he'd said, Sookie tried to turn around. She wanted to look into his eyes to see what she could find because the only thing she was getting from his emotions was amusement. But once again, he stopped her. However, instead of tightening his grip around her waist again, Eric pulled the brush from her hand.

"Your hair really is a mess." Eric's voice was matter-of-fact, but Sookie could tell he was holding back another bout of laughter. "Turn back around."

Fed up with his wisecracks about her disastrous locks, Sookie turned back around in a huff, crossing her arms over her chest as she did so. She was prepared to be as obstinate as possible, but when Eric began running the brush through her tangled mess of hair, Sookie almost gasped. She'd never known him to be so gentle, kind. Once again, she tried to turn around and look at the vampire behind her.

But Eric had anticipated her movement and caught her shoulders before she could turn even a fraction of an inch. "Would you please," he put extra emphasis on the word 'please' to show how much it pained him to say it, "sit still?"

"Fine. Just tell me what you're doing." Sookie finally resigned to her fate, relaxed on the bed, her arms now resting on Eric's jean clad thighs. As she settled into the mattress, a small sigh, part grumble, part relaxation, escaped from her lips.

"Thank you." Once again, he resumed the gentle brushing of her hair. "You are extremely stubborn at times. Extremely stubborn."

Though she tried to resist, she couldn't; his latest barb was simply too much. "Hello, Pot. Meet Kettle. You two should get along well." Her body once again filled with tension, causing her elbows and nails to dig into his thighs.

"Hush." Eric's chest shook against her back as he chuckled. "Just be quiet for a while."

Sookie didn't respond. Despite almost thirteen hours of sleep, she felt another wave of exhaustion overtake her. All of a sudden, her chest felt heavy, and her breathing began to slow.

In an attempt to fight off the drowsiness that was threatening to overtake her, Sookie asked the first thing that came to mind. She knew what the answer would be, but she needed to say something to try and wake herself up. "When Sam called, did you ask if he was alright?" Even though she'd tried to hide it, Sookie's voice was part yawn.

"Why would I do that?" Eric sounded calm, bordering on cold, but his nimble fingers, which were now slipping through her hair, didn't skip a beat.

"Because he was -" Her lethargy kept her from a full-blown temper tantrum, but she was still angry. She knew that was ridiculous; she'd known what his answer would be, but it bugged her anyway.

"I didn't, because I don't care about him." Sookie wanted to call Eric on what he'd just said, but he cut her off. "When he called, he said that you were hurt last night. And he asked me to check on you. That's all that mattered." Eric's deep voice held a definite finality. If she hadn't heard it in his voice, his emotions would have told her loud and clear that the topic was closed.

But even though she knew better than to press the subject, Sookie filed his words away for when she had some time to truly ponder and dissect them.

For the first time since his long fingers had touched her hair, Sookie felt them slide down to her shoulders and slip over the fabric of her shirt. She'd been so tired the night before she hadn't bothered to change out of her work clothes. Her white long-sleeved shirt bearing the Merlotte's logo over her left breast was beyond wrinkled and her black pants were twisted around her legs and riding up. And Eric, of course, noticed as much. "You look uncomfortable. Why don't you change?"

"Mmmmmm…." In her relaxed state, Sookie allowed herself to indulge in the feel of his fingertips caressing the cotton of her shirt. "Don't wanna move." To emphasize her point, Sookie snuggled down into Eric's embrace a little more. When he'd first pulled her back onto the bed and into his arms, she'd been able to feel the chill of his skin through his t-shirt and jeans. But her body heat had begun to warm the places where they were touching, making the situation that much more comfortable.

"I'd be willing to help you…" Eric's voice was suggestive, hopeful.

As tempting as his offer was, because it was tempting, Sookie just wasn't interested. She was enjoying the rare moment of closeness they were sharing more than she could say, and she didn't want to give it up.

The moment felt normal, domestic, two things that Sookie would never have thought possible with Eric. But with her breathing slowing and Eric's calm running though her body, courtesy of their blood bond, that was exactly how she felt.

And Sookie didn't want that feeling to end.

So instead of responding, Sookie let out a non-committal sigh as she made a show of snuggling more closely against him in a way that very clearly said, "Nope. This is all you're getting tonight, mister."

When Eric's chest shook with a small chuckle against her back, Sookie knew he'd gotten the message. And the second his fingers returned to her hair, she sighed in earnest. She didn't mean to; after all, Eric knew how much she was enjoying him playing with her hair anyway. Sookie just couldn't help but feel like he would find some way to use it against her in the future.

Just as soon as the thought crossed her mind, Sookie chastised herself for being paranoid. He was just messing with her hair. What could possibly be so incriminating about that? If her Gran knew how suspicious she'd become of people, she'd have been mighty disappointed in her.

Pushing the thought aside, Sookie wondered, for the first time, what exactly Eric's fingers were doing to her hair. She blamed the exhaustion that was quickly settling into her bones for not thinking about it sooner. "So, wha-," the 't' on her 'what' was swallowed by a huge yawn that she tried to hide with the back of her hand.

"I'm fixing your hair." Eric's fingers began moving through her blonde locks with more purpose than before.

"Now who's the mind reader?" Having Eric finish one of her sentences only added to her comfort and relaxation. She blamed it on their blood bond and not the fact that they'd slowly been growing closer and closer together. Even if they hadn't seen each other much lately, she still felt herself becoming more and more attached to him in ways she knew weren't related to their bond. Was it love? That she didn't know. But she did know that she hadn't exactly hated being around Eric even before the incident that bound them together. And she certainly didn't hate being around him now.

Eric chuckled but only once, and when he didn't respond, Sookie found herself asking some that that she never thought she'd ask. "How do you know how to do hair?" Eric's long blonde tresses were beautiful, but as best as her sleepy mind could remember, he never did anything fancy with them. He generally let it hang loose or pulled it back into a sleek ponytail, nothing more. As she waited for him to respond, Sookie tried to imagine him doing some time as a stylist in a salon at some point in his 1,000 plus years, but the image just didn't fit, even if it was amusing. She was fighting back a giggle when Eric finally spoke.

"Did you know that when Pam was human, she was obsessed with her femininity?" Yes, Sookie knew, and up until then, she'd thought Eric had overheard that particular conversation between Pam and herself. "I had been watching her for a while before I… turned her. She'd wanted to snort when he'd said turned instead of killed, but Sookie was afraid that if she did, Eric would quit talking. Though the vampires she knew rarely talked about their pasts, she loved it when they did.

"After she became a vampire, Pam had a hard time letting go of that part of her human life. Other things were easier for her to part with, her human morals for instance." At that, Eric himself laughed a bit, and it warmed Sookie's insides better than a mug of hot chocolate on a cold day. (Even if the thought of Pam exploring her newfound sexuality made her a bit queasy.) "But her love of intricate and silly hair styles she held onto."

"Are you saying that she made you do her hair?" Sookie was just too tired to try and keep the amusement out of her voice now. She just couldn't help it. Even if it meant that Eric ended his trip down memory lane. "Or… that she played with your hair?" She was on the verge of being hit with a giggle fit the likes of which only exhausted people are prone to.

"No." Eric's voice, though not angry, was devoid of any humor, effectively calming her down. "That is not what I am saying."

Sookie didn't believe him. Not one little bit.

"Then what are you saying?" Sookie's voice was half yawned for the second time that night.

"That I picked up a few tricks along the way." Eric sounded reluctant, almost sullen. "Now, no more questions. Just relax."

Sookie wanted to make a joke about him being a stylist to the undead debutants of the world, but she didn't. Instead, she did as Eric said and let herself totally relax against him and succumb to the sleepiness that had taken over her body. The feel of his strong fingers working gently, tenderly through her hair quickly lulled her into a state of ease and relaxation she'd never have thought possible if she hadn't experienced it herself.

The next thing Sookie knew, early morning sunlight was streaming in through her bedroom window, warming her cheeks and casting her room in a brilliant pink and orange haze. She was ridiculously comfortable and tucked expertly into her bed. And even though her pillows had been flattened by sleep, they were still puffy in some places, as if they'd been recently fluffed. Even her comforter had been tucked carefully around her bare legs.

It wasn't until then that she noticed her work clothes, perfectly folded, sitting on the chair in the corner of her room that the night before came flooding back.

Very cautiously, as if something might happen if she moved too quickly, Sookie reached up and touched her hair. Instead of finding the mess of peaks and valleys from the night before, her fingers slipped over what felt like a very elaborate braid. And as she continued to explore, a light bulb clicked, belatedly, in her brain.

Her legs were bare, and her clothes were folded up on her chair, and she couldn't remember how this had come to be. And… Eric had been there.

Thankfully, she wasn't naked. She could feel the soft cotton of a shirt covering her torso and shoulders.

When she pulled back the heavy quilt she'd been covered with, Sookie was shocked by what she found. Instead of her Tweety Bird sleep shirt or the new silk nightie she'd just picked up at Wal-Mart, Sookie was wearing Eric's worn out Fangtasia t-shirt. The same one he'd been wearing the night before. Sookie knew it was his because it was stretched out through the shoulders. If it had been hers, it would have been stretched through the chest.

Sookie just shook her head. Mr. Subtlety Eric was not, and she knew that the gesture was just another one of his heavy-handed hints that they should get down and do the dirty again. But it still made her feel cozy and protected, almost as if she could walk into the bathroom and find him getting ready to go out and work on the roads of Renard Parish alongside Jason.

She knew the thought of Eric not only going out in the sun, but repairing pot holes with her brother was ridiculous, but it was a wonderful vision of an impossible future nonetheless. And it was one that amused her greatly once she had a mental picture of a sweaty, shirtless Eric wearing a hard hat and carrying a large shovel.

Laughing to herself, Sookie climbed out of bed and padded barefoot across the floor to her bathroom. When she looked in the mirror, she gasped. Her eyes were fixed upon the blonde locks of her hair instead of the bruise on her cheek. Thanks to Eric's blood it almost gone, the only reminder of the mark was a light yellow-ish circle on her tan skin.

Holding up the small handheld mirror that was on the counter, Sookie's mouth fell open when she saw what Eric had done to her hair.

Her blonde locks had been twisted and pulled into an intricate design that would put any Academy Award winning period movie to shame. The braids and twists were secure, but still loose enough to keep from pulling at her scalp uncomfortably. And the more she looked, the more detailed the style seemed to be. Sookie thought she noticed a beginning that, when followed, created a spiral design around her head. If it hadn't been for the Fangtasia t-shirt, she would have sworn she was from a different time period.

Eric's time, Pam's time, Sookie wasn't sure; she didn't know much about antique hairstyles after all. But she did know that the style adorning her hair was beautiful and that it suited her perfectly.

She would have loved to have kept her hair braided for the day, to run errands through the small town of Bon Temps with her hair done up as if she were from a bygone century. But the intense itching of her scalp instantly killed that thought. It had only been two days since she'd last washed her hair, but according to the oil build up around her roots and the niggling itch, it was one day overdue.

Sookie didn't even bother trying to stop herself from pouting as she gave her beautiful hair one last look in the tiny hand held mirror. And the moment she pulled apart the first few twists of the braid, she heaved a heavy sigh. It was stupid and childish, but the antique hair-do had made her feel like a princes or a lady of high society from a past century.

And with half of the braid destroyed, she was once again just plain old Sookie Stackhouse, telepathic bar maid from Bon Temps, Louisiana.

When the last loops of Eric's efforts were gone from her long blonde hair, Sookie took another look in the mirror before brushing out the strands for the first time since she went to work two days ago. What she found in the reflection staring back at her was nothing short of amazing.

Instead of being a frizzy, oily mess, her blonde tresses hung long and wavy as if she'd just curled them for a night out. Turning her head from side to side, Sookie didn't feel so plain after all.

Squeeka Cuomo's Notes
- Disclaimer: Not mine.
- This was originally written for "echan314" as part of a meme. When asked for prompts for fics I'd never write, she came up with, "Sookie has a bad hair day." It was meant to be a short little thing, but it sort of took on a life of its own. I hope you like it Erin!
- Quack: I can honestly say that I could not do this without you. There's absolutely no exaggeration in that statement. I appreciate your help, patience and dedication more than I can say. Thank you so much.
- Reviews are love.