Hjem(løs) - Ivar x OC - Modern AU - Part 9
Hjem(løs) = Home(less)
Synopsis: It’s Juleaften and Silje walks home from a late Christmas shopping spree. On her way back to her apartment, she makes an unexpected encounter.
Word count: 8k
MASTERLIST
Part 8 <<< >>> BONUS >>> Part 10
Ivar's back pressed into the side of the tub, Silje turned around and wrapped her arms around his neck, her elbows resting on his shoulders, and her arms dangling over the edge of the tub. She kissed him, and smiled. Eager for more, Ivar captured her lips for another kiss, and another, pressing her to deepen their embrace.
“I see what you're trying to do,” Silje laughed, pulling back just a little. “And it's a no, Ivar.”
“No? Well that's a first, what's wrong?” He asked, playful mood gone and replaced with a tinge of worry. A frown appeared on his brow as he stared in confusion at a blushing Silje.
“I- I just don't like sex in water,” she confessed, blushing furiously. You'd think she was old and experienced enough not to blush when she mentioned the dirty deed, but she felt her face heat up almost instantly. “Nothing to do with you, don't fret,” she added just to reassure him.
But Ivar's frown deepened.
“We had shower sex just last week,” he pointed out, still not getting it. “We almost slipped and broke our necks like ten times,” he added, smiling at the thought. “The tub is so much more practical.”
“True,” Silje conceded but just when Ivar thought the conversation was over and leaned in again, she raised a hand to his collar bone to stop him. “But showers and baths are not the same.”
He sighed. Silje knew Ivar was frustrated, and she felt his excitement poking her thigh. She wanted him too, but...
“Explain then, because I don't get it,” he urged her.
“I-” Her face was burning up again. “It's just different!” Ivar titled his head and raised an eyebrow at her; he was getting impatient. Silje sighed, resigning herself to simply blurt out the truth and worry about the ensuing embarrassment later. “A shower is just clear water running down, but a bath is stagnating water with lots of products in it, it- it's bad.”
“Bad?” He repeated, still not getting it.
“Yes, Ivar, bad. For my little flower.” Silje resigned herself to spelling it out though the embarrassment was great.
She wanted to dig a hole and crawl in it. It was the kind of conversation a girl had with her girl friends, she never thought she'd have to explain to her boyfriend why exactly she refused to have tub sex. Fucking hell.
But Ivar wasn't laughing or showing any sign of not taking her seriously or such. He frowned again, and looked lost in his thoughts for a brief moment, then he hummed as if finally understanding something.
“I never thought about that,” he said to himself, not meeting Silje's eyes yet. “I guess it makes sense. So no bath sex I guess, I can live with that. I take it pools are out too?”
“To my deepest regret, yes,” Silje said with a disappointed sigh. “It's a bummer I know, it always looks hot in the movies.”
“The sea?” Ivar questioned, going over their options as if they were talking about their groceries rather than their sex life.
“It's the worst of all,” Silje grimaced. “The salt burns.”
“Does this mean you've tried all of this before?” Ivar now teased her, smirking mischievously. “I'm jealous now.”
“Ugh, please don't,” Silje groaned. “Horrible experiences, all of them. Very uncomfortable for me.”
His expression softened now, and Ivar's hand rose out of the water to brush back a stray strand of Silje's hair that fell out of her bun, where her hair was safe and dry.
“That's the last thing I want,” he mused, feeling Silje lean into his palm on instinct. It made his heart burst with joy that she would find comfort in his touch the way she did. “So I guess this leaves us with fresh water? We'll have to find a lake.”
Silje laughed out loud at that, throwing her head back a little.
“Or we could fill the tub with water and pretend it's a lagoon. Clear blue water, with no products in it,” he added, still sporting his wicked grin, now leaning in to pepper kisses along Silje's jaw.
“You just really want to have sex with me in water,” Silje mocked him, pushing him away with a hand, though she didn't put much force in the gesture. Ivar's grin wouldn't waver.
“I really want to have sex with you anywhere and everywhere,” he told her unashamedly, as if it was a natural thing to admit to wanting to fuck her brains out on every available surface. Silje made a dubious frown. “Too forward?” He wondered, drawing up a hand to bop her nose. She cracked a smile.
“No, just hard to believe.”
“How so?” Genuine astonishment now adorned Ivar's face like he couldn't fathom why she wouldn't take his word for granted. “Maybe I haven't made it clear enough that I'm really, really into you,” Ivar told her, dramatically stressing the second 'really' and eliciting another laugh from the girl.
“It came to my attention, I admit,” Silje giggled. “The water's cold now, let's get out.”
Ivar pecked her lips one last time before letting go of her so she could get out of the tub and he followed suit. He hadn't even noticed that the water wasn't warm anymore, they both completely lost track of time – as it often happened these days. Ivar smiled to himself, thinking it must be a good sign that they were so engrossed in each other that they couldn't remember how much time passed.
“You changed the subject, don't think I haven't noticed!” Ivar said, graciously accepting the towel Silje handed him. She rolled her eyes.
“Don't know what you're talking about-” she waved at him as she exited the bathroom wrapped in a towel. She let her hair out of her bun and fall down her back, shaking her head a bit.
Ivar finished drying himself as fast as he could, then grabbed a clean pair of grey sweatpants and put them on. For a lazy day in he didn't need more clothes than that. It was early June now, the air was thick and heavy, and the atmosphere oppressing – quite unusual for Danish weather. Grey clouds had started gathering over the city a few hours ago, and a big storm threatened to break any time now.
When he joined Silje in her room she was sitting in her briefs on her bed, rubbing in body lotion on her legs. Ivar was going to sit next to her but decided he would enjoy the show a bit longer and leaned against the open door.
“Might be a man thing, but this is just so sexy,” he commented, his eyes scanning up and down her body as she applied the lotion. Was she taking her time on purpose? She smiled and looked up from under her lashes. They immediately strayed to his chest.
“We all have our turn ons, don't we?” She chuckled, as if she knew something he didn't. Ivar nodded in agreement and continued watching in appreciative silence. “It's stifling in here,” she complained when she was done. “I hope it starts raining soon.”
Ivar went to open the window and reached his arm out.
“Already has,” he told her. “Should be pouring in a minute.” When he turned around again she was wearing a large t-shirt, which made him groan in frustration. “You just ruined a perfectly good outfit, Sil.”
“No outfit ain't an outfit,” she replied. She went to retrieve her laptop from the living room then crawl on the bed, patting the spot next to her. “Get your tight little butt over here mister!”
“I feel objectified,” Ivar said in this very dramatic fashion he used to joke around before obeying and settling next to Silje on the bed, opening his arms for her to snuggle in once she put on Netflix.
Before the show even started the sound of heavy rain hitting the roof told them the storm finally broke.
“I love this kind of weather though,” Silje said, leaning back against Ivar who placed a quick kiss to her temple. “It's practically begging us to have a lazy day and stay in bed.”
“Well you don't need to ask me twice, I'll never turn that down,” Ivar hummed in response, letting his left arm drape around Silje's chest. He smirked when his fingers grazed over her nipple, feeling it perk up. She smacked his hand away.
“Keep it in your pants for just one episode, will you? You're going to wear me out if we keep up this pace,” she scolded him.
True to her word, Silje fell asleep halfway through the episode, and Ivar closed his eyes to try and get some more rest too. They haven't gotten quite as much sleep as they would have liked last night. Silje insisted on finishing their game of Monopoly – when really everybody knew this game never ends – and then they indulged in some more adult activities. They planned on sleeping in but Silje forgot to turn off her phone and they were woken up by her ring tone around six in the morning because she hadn't deactivated her alarm clock.
A warm bath certainly did nothing to wake them up, it did the opposite to be truthful, and so they both drifted off in front of Netflix for a little morning nap.
When Silje blinked her eyes open a while later she couldn't tell what time it was. The sky was still as grey as before, though now the downpour had subsided to steady rain, not quite as heavy as earlier. The temperature went down a few degrees and a cool breeze came in through the open window.
She stirred slightly, blinking some more and attempting to stretch without waking up Ivar.
“'m awake,” he mumbled to her surprise. She chuckled. He might not be asleep but he surely wasn't awake either.
Feeling reinvigorated by her nap and in a playful mood, Silje decided to climb on top of Ivar, lying flat on his chest, arms crossed and chin resting on her joined hands. Ivar opened one eye to see what she was doing. He closed it again and simply wrapped his arms around her waist. Silje was a bit on the lightweight side, and feeling her body hugging his sent all kinds of signals throughout his body, causing a certain fuzziness in his stomach.
“Ivar.”
He hummed in response, showing her he was listening.
“Ivar,” Silje repeated. It didn't sound like the beginning of a sentence at all, nor was she calling him to get his attention. It rather sounded like she was tasting his name.
“Silje,” Ivar said back, now opening his eyes fully. Truth be told he has been awake for some time now but he was just too cosy to move.
“Ivar,” she replied with a mischievous smile on her face. Ivar could swear her cheeks were tinged with some slight pink.
“Silje?” He now asked, wondering what little game of hers this was. “What is it?”
“Can you feel it too?” She asked him, tilting her head to the right, pressing her cheek into her hand without looking away from him. She could drown in Ivar's blue eyes, and she wouldn't mind.
“Mmh?”
“This moment,” she tried to explain. “It's perfect.” If she could feel Ivar's heart thumping against the palm of her hand, she didn't show it.
One of her hands reached up for him, her fingers caressing the nape of his neck, where his hair started. Suddenly she leaned up and kissed him, stealing away his breath. Her legs moved to Ivar's sides as soon as she opened her mouth to deepen the kiss. Ivar's arms were still very much wrapped around her waist, pressing her upper body against his so tightly he could feel her breathe, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
Sometimes he needed this to remind him that Silje was real, she was with him in the flesh, and this wasn't a fantasy he made up in his mind. He could hold her, kiss her. And he did.
For a girl it was easy to tell when I guy was excited, but it was always a bit trickier the other way around. Ivar, however, had found Silje let out the most delightful little sounds, getting louder as her desire grew. So when she moaned out a profanity the moment they broke their kiss to catch their breath, he took action.
Ivar flipped them over, now being the one hovering over her and pressing her into the mattress. He pushed away the duvet and numerous pillows to make more room. He revelled in the feeling of Silje's warm thighs clenching around his hips as if she tried to prevent him from slipping away.
“You're perfect,” Ivar finally told her, kissing his way down her neck until he had her whimpering from his ministrations. He knew it was a corny answer, but it was the truth, as simple as that. He settled for this spot to mark her, and began to give it a little bite and suck on it, earning a throaty groan in answer.
Silje grabbed Ivar's face with both hands and pulled him towards her face again, bringing his lips down on hers before he could ask himself what she was doing. Her body started moving of its own volition, rippling like waves to meet Ivar's hips and get a feel of his length poking into her core. Ivar's right hand travelled down Silje's side, following the curve of her backside which he took great pleasure in doing, feeling her smile against his lips. Then it slowly moved up her thigh, and back down again until he reached her sole piece of underwear.
He broke the kiss to her discontent, but Silje laid down and let him do whatever he wanted. Ivar sat on the back on his heels, and used both hands to take off Silje bottoms, dragging them down her legs, then throwing them aside.
She didn't cower away from his gaze when his eyes looked down, a wicked smirk painted on his lips. Silje bit her lower lip, guessing what Ivar had in mind.
Still she yelped when Ivar dived down and grabbed her hips, holding her in place as he buried his face between her thigh, making her gasp at the contact of his mouth against her sensitive skin.
*
“My brothers are gonna try and scare you away now. I'm not sure why, because I know for a fact that at least Ubbe and Hvitserk like you a lot, but I think it has something to do with brotherly duties,” Silje informed Ivar, legs thrown over his lap on the couch while she read a magazine. It was good to be free of exams and other sources of stress. Finally, she was on holiday.
“I need to get something off my chest,” Ivar blurted out, making Silje put down the magazine and move her attention to him.
“Is it your shirt?” She flirted, raising an eyebrow. It was typically the kind of comeback that made Ivar erupt in roaring laughter but this time he only smiled uneasily so she stopped joking around and moved her legs so she could sit properly next to him on the couch. “What is it?”
“I don't mean to be a weasel or anything, but I think you should know that Hvitserk always knew. I mean, of course we told him, but he knew before that,” Ivar tried to explain but it ended up sounding awkward.
He hadn't planned on confessing that he pined after Silje for months before they shared their first kiss. If he could avoid saying it, he would have taken it to the grave. She raised an eyebrow, looking like she was thinking really hard about something, then all of a sudden she blushed deeply.
“You alright?” Ivar asked out of habit. He always noticed the slightest change in her moods.
“Yeah, yeah... So you were saying he already knew? H- how come?” She stuttered out, convincing Ivar once and for all that she was not alright. There was something she wasn't telling him.
“Well... he noticed that I liked you and kind of pushed me to confess,” Ivar admitted, now blushing just as hard as Silje. After all, maybe she wasn't hiding anything from him, maybe she was just as flustered as him to talk about their... feelings.
“It clearly didn't work,” she laughed, looking a bit more relaxed when she realized that was all.
“His peps talks were a bit too aggressive, gentleness works better if you want to make me do something,” Ivar commented, joining her in her laughter. Silje's hand came to take his, wrapping her fingers around his closed fist to make his relax. He opened his fist and she interlaced their fingers. “I guess this only leaves three of your terrifyingly tall and strong brothers to win over,” he sighed, already scared at the perspective.
“It'll be alright, Bjorn trusts my judgement more than any of the others,” she assured him. “He won't shake you up too badly. And Ubbe will go easy on you.”
“But it's not just them, is it? You have parents too,” Ivar whined, throwing his head back.
This time Silje laughed frankly, her laughter filling his ears like music. She leaned into him and placed her chin on his shoulder, nuzzling him a bit. His arm squeezed behind her and settled around her frame.
“They are nice,” she promised.
“Oh yeah. I'll charm all your family in one dinner, easy peasy, lemon squeezy,” Ivar snorted sarcastically, not believing a word Silje said.
She was just trying to reassure him, but his anxiety was through the roof. He had no idea how to behave in a situation like this, he had never met his girlfriend's family before. Hell, when he agreed to this, they weren't together, at the time it felt like a favour he was doing her – coming along to a family reunion where he didn't know anyone but Silje, Hvitserk and Inge, to save her from awkward questions, and maybe provide her with an alibi if she wanted to escape. Hvitserk liked to think that Ivar came for him but the guy was deluded.
“I swear the only one you have to look out for is Sigurd, you know he's not very fond of... people,” she concluded. Ivar's mouth closed, his lips in a tight line. “When he doesn't know them.”
It wouldn't be the first time Sigurd drops a biting remark meant for Silje's boyfriend. Though she very rarely let them meet her family. With Ivar it was different of course, because he immediately met two of her brothers, and the third one later, before they began dating.
“Right, save it,” he snorted again. “I'll be on my best behaviour and hope for the best. If anything, they will at least have to admit I'm polite.”
“You're more than polite, you're great, and they will welcome you. Who do you think my family are? They're not all intimidating people built like tanks!” She protested, amused by Ivar's pointless worries.
He really had nothing to be concerned about, she had talked to her parents and Sigurd received a warning to be nice. Not to mention that this family reunion was for Hvitserk and Inge's engagement, and they would be there to smooth things out if anything bad happened – like her uncle Floki decided he was a bad seed and making it known to the entire Ragnarsson clan.
“It's not that they are so big, Sil, it's just that I don't want them to not like me. And honestly I'm more scared about the women than the men,” he admitted, dismissing her previous assumption that it was her soldier brothers' appearance that made him antsy.
Silje grabbed Ivar's chin so he would stop staring at the crack in the ceiling and meet her gaze instead.
“I promise you have nothing to be nervous about. They only care for my well-being. My mother will see you make me happy, and it's all she'll need to know to welcome you in the family.”
“I know it comes from a good place Sil, but nothing you can say will make me less anxious about this,” Ivar said, rubbing his face with his free hand. “I just hope everyone will be too focused on Hvitserk and Inge to care about me.”
“Listen, a situation is only awkward if you make it,” she said, reminding him of her life motto.
Still, Silje wore a rosy blush on her cheeks, one that Ivar thought looked good on her. He rarely saw Silje flustered, but it seemed that it touched her more than she would admit out loud that he wanted to make a good impression on her family.
With that in mind, Ivar still wasn't quite ready for what was to come, especially not ready to be face to face with the last, the oldest, the scariest brother: Bjorn.
“Rumour has it, I make you nervous.” He said as a greeting to Ivar, not cracking a smile, not showing a single hint that he might be joking, just staring blankly at Ivar, casting his large shadow on him.
Ivar had been doing fine so far. The guests were slowly arriving, Silje's youngest brothers made sure he felt welcome and introduced him to all those unknown family members arriving two at a time. He also tried not to give in to the urge to down a glass of whiskey to ease his nerves – Silje would give him a piece of her mind if she caught him doing so, and he wanted to be absolutely, completely, entirely sober and clear headed for when her parents arrived. He couldn't make a bad first impression, he would not.
True they were the ones organizing this party, but they had to take care of some last minute thing and left their children in charge of greeting the guests. Silje had left Ivar's side to help Inge, and so he stood in a corner, rolling on the balls of his feet and sweating in his borrowed two piece suit. Nicolaj graciously offered to lend him one. Ivar hated wearing ties.
But back to Bjorn standing right in his face, sending threatening vibes his way.
“Where did you get this from?” Ivar asked in a vain attempt to sound casual and not at all intimidated.
Ivar was used to being taller than most people, but Silje's entire family was tall and broad-shouldered. Having people look down to meet his eyes was unusual and he wasn't sure he liked the feeling at all. Especially not when it was the scary oldest brother who looked like he could and would fight a grizzly bear with his bare hands.
Bjorn did not answer, instead he grinned slightly, a mysterious smile that indicated that he knew something Ivar didn't. It succeeded in making him more nervous than the cold glare he gave him before.
“You just take good care of her and we'll be on cordial terms,” he told Ivar, slamming one of his big hands on his shoulder. He squeezed slightly, making Ivar flinch. “If you don't...”
He didn't finish his sentence but there was really no need because Ivar's imagination was already running wild with unpleasant perspectives in the unlikely case he hurt Silje somehow. Bjorn's grip loosened and he patted Ivar's back as he walked away, having scared the kid shitless and feeling he had accomplished his big brother job.
Ivar let out a deep breath, but his relief was short-lived because a second later Hvitserk crashed into his side, nearly propelling them both into the buffet.
“That wasn't so bad, was it? Bjorn doesn't eat human flesh,” he snickered, clearly enjoying himself a lot more than Ivar who so far had to endure systematic intimidation from all male relatives of Silje's. “And you're way too scrawny anyway.”
“It's called being lean, you should try that sometime,” Ivar snapped back, shoving his friend off. Engagement party or not, Hvitserk always acted like Hvitserk. “Maybe lay off the beer.”
“Inge likes me squishy,” he replied with a shit eating grin that Ivar did not want to know the implications of. “Anyway, do you want me to get Sil for you? You seem a bit lost here.”
Ivar would have killed to have Silje right next to him, joking around and teasing him about his obvious nervousness instead of standing in a corner like an idiot, but he didn't want to make her feel like she should be holding his hand the whole day.
“I'll survive without her for a bit,” Ivar sighed with a shrug. “I'm a big boy.”
“She'll come to you when mother and father arrive, don't worry,” Hvitserk patted his shoulder and sent him a wink. “Now get that broom outta your ass, I've never seen anyone look so tense in my life.”
“Oh gee, that sure makes me feel better, let me just completely forget that I have to win over my girlfriend's entire family,” Ivar muttered through his teeth, making Hvitserk laugh and pat his back some more for good measure. “I can't screw this up,” he added more seriously, making Hvitserk frown a bit.
“You won't fuck it up, man. Our parents have been looking forward to meeting you, Silje only told them good things about you and we have all received specific orders not to shake you up too much.”
“From Silje?” Ivar asked, his eyebrows hitting his hairline.
“Who else? Have you met the girl? She's a tyrant!” Hvitserk replied dramatically. “If anyone dares to upset her precious Ivar she'll have their head.”
It did sound like Silje now that Ivar thought about it. He was lucky enough to appeal to her good side, in fact she was always nice to people unless they did something to deserve her bad side. In this instance, she would go full on mama bear on them, there was absolutely no denying she was related to the squad of soldier brothers.
“Wipe that frown off your face, pretty boy,” Hvitserk chuckled. “Time to meet uncle Floki and aunt Helga.”
They passed Ubbe and Margrethe on their way to the door, the older brother giving Ivar a glance and slightly raising his glass at him. Ivar smirked and continued his way. Hvitserk took the lead and warmly greeted his uncle Floki, a tall and thin man accompanied by a kind looking woman – blond as most of Silje's family.
Ivar nearly lost his balance when someone crashed into his side.
“Sorry I left you on your own,” Silje chuckled, amused by his startled expression. “Thought you'd manage to fend for yourself for a short while.”
“I did well, thank you very much,” Ivar scoffed, fighting off the fond smile that immediately overtook his face when he heard her voice. “But never leave my side again or I'll start crying,” he added, with the sole purpose of making her smile.
Silje laughed heartily at his dramatic declaration, nestling her hand in the crook of his elbow. He was joking, evidently, but it didn't mean that there wasn't some truth to it, and Silje was determined to spend the rest of the evening with Ivar. After all, he wasn't the only one nervous about tonight.
“Little princess, won't you greet your old Floki?” Silje's uncle asked her, a somewhat twisted smile on his face, though Ivar was sure it was meant to be teasing. His girlfriend momentarily let go of his arm to hug her uncle and aunt, welcoming them into the house. “And who's this?” Floki asked, glancing at Ivar, scrutinizing him. Ivar swallowed thickly.
“Father must have told you I would bring someone, I know he tells you everything,” she accused him, earning a mischievous smile. She was quick to turn to Ivar, a twinkle in her eyes as she said, “This is Ivar, my boyfriend.” Ivar's heart skipped a beat. He always liked to hear her refer to him as such. “And I would appreciate it if you didn't scare him off.”
Helga chuckled and greeted Ivar as warmly as he'd imagined she would, she looked doting and benevolent, a real mother figure. Floki did not even do so much as extend his hand to shake Ivar's, much less give him the usual pat on the back in greeting.
“Well if he runs away because of me then he's not really worth it, is he?” Floki said to Silje, earning a stern look.
She was just about to open her mouth to scold her uncle and tell him to tone down his teasing nature, because of this one ran away she might just run away with him, but she was cut short when Ivar spoke up.
“Try me,” he said, shooting him a challenging smile. His hand was still extended, he was beginning to feel awkward about it. Floki seemed surprised but not displeased with the answer, and after examining him a bit longer, he grabbed Ivar's hand and pulled him forward to give him a side hug.
“You've got some nerve kid. Ragnar will like you,” Floki declared before leaving the couple to say hello to the other brothers.
Ivar exhaled and grabbed a glass of champagne.
“I'm so sorry to interrupt Silje, Ivar,” Inge suddenly came out of nowhere, looking overwhelmed and in need of a glass of champagne herself. “I need your help for something.”
Without waiting for her answer she grabbed Silje by the arm and dragged her away from Ivar, who once again stood on his own, surrounded by unfamiliar faces in an unfamiliar place. He wasn't complaining but he will be happy to have Silje to himself again later.
“We haven't met,” a voice said beside him, making him turn away from where the girls disappeared. A tall man with no hair but an impressive and neatly trimmed beard looked down on him, his light coloured eyes looking right into his soul. “But I assume you're Silje's new boyfriend.”
New boyfriend. Why did it sound so much less appealing with this adjective? Or maybe it was only pleasant coming from Silje herself.
“Ivar,” Ivar introduced himself for the hundredth time today, going for the man's hand.
At least he took it, unlike the odd uncle Floki. An indecipherable smile danced on the man's lips, as if he was highly entertained by Ivar's mere presence. This made the young man frown, but he didn't dare say anything. Best behaviour, he reminded himself.
“What's so special about you?” The other man asked, still not introducing himself. “I've met a few boyfriends before but there's something different with you...” He mused out loud, increasing Ivar's uneasiness. What the hell was he supposed to say to that?
“Must be my awkward charm,” Ivar opted for a light joke instead of reading too much into this stranger's purposely vague remarks.
“I'm sure it helps, but I wasn't thinking about that.” Slowly Ivar added two and two together and before he could ask the man who he was, he spoke up again. “Perhaps my daughter simply has a soft spot for lost causes.”
Instead of flaring up or blushing and stuttering out an excuse like Silje's father must have expected him to do, Ivar looked him right in the eye and held his gaze. He wasn't of a submissive nature and having this man he didn't know challenge him the way he did prompted Ivar to up his game instead of shying out of this silent confrontation.
After all he had been preparing for it. Granted that he thought he would have to puff out his chest a little bit with her brothers, but if her father was the one acting like the alpha male, he wouldn't back down either.
“What did Silje tell you about me?” Ivar inquired politely, not letting anything on. He didn't know how much Ragnar knew.
“Silje is a private person, she didn't tell on you,” Ragnar shook his head with a little smirk. He appeared so relaxed with his hands in his pockets, so artfully mellow, it must be the result of a lifetime of practice. “I did my own digging. I'm sure you understand.”
“I wouldn't mind if she told you. You're her father, I suppose you have a right to know.” To know yes, but to meddle certainly not. Silje had warned him that her father could be a little excessive at times, but not to worry. More bark than bite. “Now what of it?”
“I don't need to tell you I don't approve, right? Despite your circumstances, you seem like a clever young man,” Ragnar said, his smile not faltering. “That is to say that you have to earn my trust and respect if you plan on dating Silje, let alone living with her.”
“A challenge?” Ivar asked, puzzled by the request. His eyebrows shot up before he could compose his poker face.
“A trial of sorts. You have the entire week-end to change my mind. Impress me.” He winked and grabbed a glass off a tray, sipping on the bubbly beverage. Ivar also took a swing of his own glass to calm his nerves.
This man had come out of nowhere to demand he earn his place in Silje's life, and Ivar was gutted to admit he couldn't do that. He had no idea why Silje liked him in the first place, he didn't think he deserved to be in her life, in her heart, but she let him in anyway. So what in the gods' names would be enough for her father to let him continue seeing his daughter.
If Silje learnt of this she would shout at them both, pulling them by their ear out of the room for a good scolding session to remind them both that she was her own person, an adult who made her own decisions, and that this wasn't the early nineteenth century anymore, her father didn't have a saying in who she dated.
This made Ivar smirk, which Ragnar interpreted as his accepting the challenge.
“You understand, do you?” He asked, tilting his head. “I don't want any hard feelings between us when this is over. She's my only daughter after all.”
“A daughter you raised well. She's queen of herself, and knows what she wants and how to get it. I haven't seen anything or anyone stand in her way so far,” Ivar replied, hoping he'd get the drift – he seemed to at least. “I'm sure she'll appreciate the well-intentioned thought, however unnecessary it is.”
“I would hardly qualify this as unnecessary. It eases my nerves, and her mother's. We sleep better at night,” Ragnar chuckled. “Children always think they know what's best.”
“She's not a child. She's a strong woman, who knows what's good for herself, and if you're worried I might hurt her in any way you can trust she'll be the first to wack my ass if I misbehave, long before you even hear of it.”
“I don't have a doubt about that, but I will do much worse if you break her heart, Ivar,” Ragnar's voice lowered, and his face was full of threatening shadows when he leaned in slightly. He took a step forward and spoke even lower. “See you have nothing to lose. You have nothing at all. So what guarantee do I have that you won't try and take advantage of her?”
That was a question Ivar couldn't question the legitimacy of. He knew it would come up one day, though he didn't know who would have the balls to bring it up to his face. Apparently Silje's father did, and now Ivar didn't stand so tall and proud anymore.
“It's true, I own nothing. I'm working on that,” Ivar answered dryly. He didn't elaborate even after Ragnar waited for a better explanation. He was about to leave, now that he was done scaring the wits out of Ivar. “But if you think it means I have nothing to lose you're wrong. I understand your concern, however offending the thought and aggressive the approach. But I'm far more emotionally involved than you think.”
“How so, Ivar?” Ragnar seemed to take great pleasure in saying his name, as if having his name gave him power over the young man. “What could give me the absolute certitude that Silje is in good hands?”
“I'm terrified that Silje will realise she's too good for me and leave.”
Ivar had blurted it out on instinct, feeling he had to bare some of his soul to this man if he wanted a chance to earn his respect at some point – surely that would take longer than a week-end, but all Ivar asked for was a chance.
“If you're not good enough for her why do you stay?” Ragnar pressed on, turning back towards Ivar, now that he caught his attention.
“Because I'm selfish and I love her.”
Another truth Ivar would have rather kept to himself. Or rather, something he would have liked to tell the chief party concerned first, before blurting it out to her father. An intrigued smile answered his sudden declaration, followed by a pleased nod.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Ivar,” Silje's father said and left, not saying another word but smiling still.
As soon as he walked away Ivar breathed again. When a hand touched his shoulder he nearly jumped out of his own skin.
“It went well I'd say,” Silje said.
“Relatively,” Ivar winced. “I'm sweating Sil, it's too hot in here.”
“You deserve a bit of fresh air.” She took his arm. “We still have some time before dinner gets served, follow me.”
Silje lead him out, navigating through the crowd with grace while he followed in silence, catching some curious glances from the other guests. The moment they stepped out of the house and the cool evening air hit them, Ivar breathed again. Silje smiled to herself, and she continued leading him away from the party. Ivar was surprised to realise Silje was taking him out of the house entirely.
There was a small pond at the far end of the backyard, where not even the music from the party could be heard anymore, and it almost felt like there was no such gathering happening at all. They could be alone here, at least for a moment.
“What would you do if I failed to make a good impression on your parents?”
“Oh mother told me you were a fine looking young man and that she was very happy for me,” Silje reassured him, but Ivar's stern expression didn't falter.
“Your father I mean.”
“I know you're worrying yourself sick over this but there's really no reason. It wouldn't change anything to me, I won't just stop seeing you because my father thinks you're a little punk. Fathers never think anyone's good enough for their daughter!”
A hundred meters from there stood said father, leaning in to whisper in his wife's ear.
“Have you met our Silje's new charity case?” Ragnar chuckled, getting nothing more out of his wife than a slap on the shoulder. “What do you think of him?”
Aslaug had always had a nick for reading people, she was very intuitive, and Ragnar learnt to trust her judgement.
“I haven't had a chance to speak with him,” she sighed, giving in to her husband's nagging. “But I have no doubt he's a keeper.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“It's in his eyes, in the way he looks at her. Didn't you see just then when Silje took him away?” She turned to Ragnar, her keen eyes staring intently at her husband. “You like him too,” she stated. “What did you talk about?”
“Nothing of importance. Just a friendly chat between men,” Ragnar smiled.
“You tried to scare him away, didn't you? Silje explicitly asked you to behave,” Aslaug scolded him.
“No harm was done, he's still there!” Ragnar protested upon getting another shove from his beloved wife. “I admit the kid has got nerves, I just don't like anyone who sleeps with our daughter, on principle.”
“She's twenty-two, did you think she was still innocent?” Aslaug raised her brows, eager to see Ragnar wriggle his way out of this question.
“Silje was never innocent,” he mused. He raised his pointer finger. “Which doesn't mean that I like it.”
“We raised her to be strong and capable, Ragnar,” his wife reminded. “And she is. She's the fiercest young woman I know, if she says Ivar is a good person and a loving boyfriend, then I have no reason to doubt her.”
Ragnar scoffed and downed his glass.
“You women with your gut feelings and intuition,” he grumbled, walking away.
Aslaug smiled to herself and took a sip of her white wine, quite proud of herself. That said, she was still very much curious about this young man whom her daughter held in such high esteem, and began looking for them. It looked like they had disappeared altogether until finally she saw them walk into the dining room together, joined at the hip.
“Mother!” Silje exclaimed the moment she saw the familiar figure approach. She launched herself into her arms to greet her, then turned around with the largest, brightest smile on her face, one hand reaching towards Ivar. “Mother, I want you to meet Ivar,” she said, holding open her palm until Ivar shook himself out of his thoughts and took a step forward.
“It's a pleasure to meet you, madam,” Ivar immediately said.
Silje's mother was tall and thin, she held herself like a model would, and maybe she was after all. Her long strawberry blond hair fell down her left shoulder in an intricate braid that must have required more than two hands to realise.
She exuded elegance and poise, and in a way was more intimidating than any of her male counterparts. Ivar didn't know how to greet her, but she didn't leave him to wonder too long, and quickly hugged him.
“A pleasure indeed,” she told him with a smile – so different from her husband's devious grin. “Silje told me about you, if you're anything like she says you must be quite the prince charming.”
Silje and Ivar blushed furiously, avoiding each other's gaze.
“That's a high standard to live up to,” Ivar joked.
“Don't worry, you're doing great already,” Aslaug reassured him. “You met my husband and all of my sons, including my step son Bjorn, and you haven't run away yet.”
Silje groaned and looked up to meet Ivar's confused frown.
“One of my boyfriends did that once,” she explained curtly. “I'll tell you about it another time,” she promised. “Mother, please don't let father speak alone to Ivar again. I saw what little stunt he pulled earlier.”
“I'm sorry, I turned around only a second and he was gone.” She winced, placing a hand on Ivar's shoulder. “Don't let him intimidate you! The best way to impress Ragnar is to stand up to him,” she advised him, sending him a complicit gaze.
“Easier said than done,” Silje whispered to herself. “I'm sure we can avoid any further display of testosterone-induced male head-butting.”
“Let's talk about something more pleasant, yes?” Aslaug changed the subject. “And please don't call me madam, Ivar. We're family here so it's Aslaug.”
Ivar told her that he would try to remember that, however strange it was for him to call his girlfriend's mother by her first name, but Silje could tell it relaxed him greatly to know that at least one of her parents seemed to approve of him.
“Any plans for the holidays now that classes are over?” Aslaug asked to them both, even though Ivar now knew Silje's parents knew the truth about him. Silje had provided them with a convenient lie and told everyone he was a classmate, but clearly Ragnar's digging had unearthed the truth.
Silje opened her mouth to answer but Ivar thought it better to answer himself.
“I'm sure you've heard about my... situation,” he said, choosing his words wit care. He felt Silje stare at him in shock. Aslaug smiled kindly and nodded, looking as surprised as her daughter. “Then you understand that I couldn't possibly go anywhere right now.”
“I understand yes.”
“Wait, what's going on?” Silje questioned. “How do you know? No wait, it's father, right? I should have known.”
“He's looking out for you my darling,” Aslaug put it, gently stroking her daughter's cheek. Silje snorted and turned away from her.
“And what else did you look into? Have you done this to every person I introduced you to? It makes me sick to think of it! Parents shouldn't know their children's companions better than them.” Her mother opened her mouth to answer that but Silje cut her off. “Do you know Ivar's blood type? Where he went to school? His medical history? His entire family tree? This is unacceptable, mother! I shouldn't have to tell you that!”
“I'm so sorry,” her mother apologised.
Ivar could tell she was genuinely sorry and never would have searched into the past of her daughter's boyfriend on her own, it was her husband's doing and she went along with it under the disguise of worry. Perhaps an apology was in order, yes, but surely Silje could see she meant no harm.
He felt a bit out of place standing between mother and daughter, arguing. But Silje seemed to remember herself and breathed deeply to recompose herself.
“It's alright, I know you had nothing to do with this. I'll talk to father later, now's not the time,” she said, a bit more calm but not yet back to being the light, fun presence Silje usually was. Ivar squeezed her arm to show her it was fine. “So... what do you think of it then? Any opposition against us dating?”
“Darling, it's not my place to tell you how to live your life. Of course at first I was... surprised,” she admitted with an embarrassed smile, offering an apologetic glance to Ivar who nodded. “But you seem to be doing fine, the both of you. Ivar, you obviously put tremendous effort into falling back on your feet, I think it's admirable. And I wish you the best of luck and happiness.”
“Thank you,” he said, only then realising his throat was constricted. How badly had he wanted to hear these words since the moment he realised he would meet Silje's parents! How badly did he need to hear them?
“Besides, you seem to have made a big impression of my youngest son too, otherwise he wouldn't have invited you today,” Aslaug added. Silje would have said something but she got lost in Ivar's overwhelmed expression, staring fondly at her boyfriend who now clutched at her sleeve as if it was his lifeline. “Since the men of the family all have terrible manners and can't be bothered to greet you properly, I will do it. On behalf of the entire family, Ivar: welcome.”
If you like my work please consider buying me a coffee <3
A/N: Hello dear readers, just a quick word to say that I might have a short bonus nsfw scene for this chapter, so leave me a little review and I’ll post it in the following days. (And it’s only short by my standards)
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