Ubbe/Jordan Patrick Smith

Haunting Halloween (Modern!Ubbe)

Your roommate and secret crush, Ubbe Ragnarsson, stood in the gap that connected the kitchen to the living room, his perfectly planned Viking costume a part of the theme which he and his brothers had picked, making him look hot. Definition sweltering, although also attractive.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Ubbe puffed out a breath, the alcohol wasn't making his situation any better. When he had shown you the costume, your first instinct had been to ask if he was certain this was a good idea?

"Of course it is!" He had boasted, twirling around in the thick wool cape. "Sacrifice is part of the process, trust me, babe." Ubbe beamed showing you the fake pony tail that he had to finish the details.

Glancing around Ubbe, into the living room where the party was in full swing, you caught a glimpse of another Viking. It was Sigurd, his costume a light green tunic and pleather pants. Much more practical than Ubbe's traveling costume or even Hvitserk's leather battle armor.

Among the other guests, Sigurd danced around, enjoying another famous Hvitserk Holiday Party. The Raganarssons knew how to party. Even boring Bjorn had came, his Viking costume matching his brothers.

Moving around the center island to avoid a collision with a drunk emoji, you sided up to Ubbe, your hand extended with an orange cup in your grasp.

"Drink?" You glanced up at your taller roommate.

"Thank you," Ubbe accepted the gift, tipping it to his lips. Failing to inspect the contents before taking a large gulp, he was pleasantly surprised to find water. "Having fun?" his blue eyes making you weak.

"I am, are you?" You ask taking a sip of your drink, some punch that Hvitserk had made, mostly random bottles of alcohol.

Ubbe nodded and finished the water, resting the cup on a near by end table. "Hvitserk's parties are always fun, see, even Ivar is smiling." He gestured to his youngest brother.

Sitting on a chair in the corner, Ivar also dressed as a Viking, snarled at some drunk who stumbled by nearly knocking into him. For Ivar a mild snarl was close enough to a smile.

"Well, you look great. All of you." You complimented, tipping the cup back to your lips.

"And so do you." Ubbe's eyes swept you up and down, admiring the shield maiden costume that he had hand picked and convinced you to wear. It wasn't your first choice, but you didn't have to worry about picking a costume. "Just watch Sigurd, he's been getting handsy."

He was teasing of course, you knew that there was no way in hell Sigurd would hit on you. Much less try anything else. The poor boy had tried flirting with you once and had been shot down so terribly, Sigurd barely spoke to you anymore.

Assuring your friend that you and his brother would never happen, you did your best not to blurt out the first thing in your mind. Sigurd would never happen, but you wouldn't stop Ubbe if he tried.

Ashamed and embarrassed by the thoughts, you scurried back into the kitchen. Pouring another glass of alcohol loaded with alcohol, you tipped the cup to your lips. By the third glass, you were feeling no pain. You'd also noticed that Ubbe was gone from his post, frowning to see your friend missing, you sat the cup down and ventured into the actual party.

Lost in a sea of bad and cheesy costumes, you navigated the sweaty bodies. As much as Hvitserk loved throwing parties, his house was too small. To your right you could see Bjorn towering over the woman he was trying to chat up, no Ubbe.

Straight ahead was Sigurd, dancing away, still. No Ubbe. Hvitserk wasn't far behind, trying his best to clean up a knocked over pumpkin. Ivar still in the chair, glaring at everyone, but no Ubbe.

On the small back patio, a tall, cloaked figure caught your attention. You'd know that silhouette anywhere. Pushing by a woman who looked like she had forgot her clothes at home, you thrust open the door and stepped out into the cool evening.

"Ubbe!" You cheered delightfully. "You left me."

"Sorry, I thought maybe you and the punch bowl needed a moment," His laugh was full of mirth.

"What I need is a dance," You poked him in the chest. "With you!"

"Babe, I'm really not sure that is a good idea. Are you even sober enough to dance?" Ubbe threw an arm around your shoulder, holding you closer to his side.

Waving your hand in dispute, you giggled. "Almost nobody dances sober, love, unless they happen to be insane."

"You head in, find something worth dancing to – not Thriller and I'll be right along." Ubbe encouraged.

Knowing that if he sent you back inside, the warmth would hit you like a truck, and he would have an excuse not to dance as you whined about being suddenly sleepy. Tapping your finger to your nose, you winked and slid back inside.

Giving you a full two minute start, Ubbe continued his countdown, when he felt the time was right he headed back inside in pursuit of you. Music played and bodies were moving along, but none of them were you. Passing the pumpkin mess, a scowling Ivar, a staggering Sigurd, and a rejected Bjorn there you were.

Slumped into a chair, stifling a yawn when you saw your dance partner coming for you. Reaching your hands out, you smiled sleepily.

"Ready for that dance?" he bent down.

"I'm ready for a nap," You pouted, wrapping your arms around his neck as he lifted you bridal style. "It's so hot in here," You whispered.

"Hmm," Ubbe nodded, asking Ivar to call a cab to take you home. "Well, we can dance later. Why don't we head home?"

"We can dance at home," You mumbled, closing your eyes and sighing. "In your bed."

That would definitely haunt you later.