Chapter Text
Laura’s footsteps echoed up the narrow tiled stairwell, the low-heeled boots dominantly clacking on each metal-edged step. The reporter hitched her leather messenger bag higher onto her shoulder and her blue bike helmet bounced from where she had clipped it onto the strap. Luckily class was now out for the summer at the small local college she taught at during the day, so her load was immensely lighter without the extra assignments and papers.
Laura launched herself up the last few steps and swung out onto the third floor landing. She tugged her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans and shot off a text to Carmilla-after checking to make sure it was as buddy-buddy as she could manage that is.
Gonna order a big ass pizza u want some
The tiny brunette had noticed over the past two months that Carmilla had been acting more and more attentive towards her. At first she had thought it was just the artist being friendly, but after an encounter with one of Laura’s coworkers named Danny she quickly understood that her friend might have warmer feelings for her than she thought.
It wasn’t entirely one-sided though… Carmilla was a very attractive woman, and Laura was very gay. She couldn’t help but flirt back sometimes and she justified it as a natural response while trying not to think about how much she enjoyed the snarky woman’s company. Or the way said snarky woman flirted back. Or the way she looked at her. Or teased her. Or lingered a few seconds too long when she let Laura invade her space and hug her.
The honest truth was she had fallen for Carmilla. She just couldn’t admit it to herself yet.
Laura grumped out a noise of annoyance and slid her phone back into her pocket before fishing out her lanyard, practically jamming her key into the lock as if it had caused her some great offense. She tumbled into her little apartment with a relieved huff as the temperature dropped a drastic amount from the hall.
She slung her bag down carefully into its designated chair at the small kitchen table and picked her thin cotton shirt away from where it was sticking to the small of her back. Her phone had yet to trill back a response from Carmilla but she knew the woman was home-she had seen her shiny black Bonneville in its parking space. Laura flapped her shirt around her middle and decided to just go check and see if the artist was available. She’d change in a moment; Carmilla had seen her in grosser conditions before.
Quick steps led her back out into the hall and around one of their elderly hall mates trundling to the elevator. Laura rapped eagerly on the heavy wooden door and waited, catching her flushed reflection in the tarnished brass 307 screwed into the chipped dark red paint. A muffled it’s open! called through the inside of the apartment and Laura slipped in without hesitation.
All of the windows (a full three to her two and a half-much to her jealousy) were thrown wide open and the early summer heat seeped into the bright living space. The acrid stench of spray fixative made her scrunch her nose as she wandered deeper in to Carmilla’s home. She let her eyes wander over the familiar stacks of art and philosophy books, an absurd amount of candles, the handmade knick knacks and pottery and paintings she had bought or collected from friends, and the obvious clutter of someone too preoccupied with their activities. It wasn’t cramped per se, but it was certainly cozy and comfortably full. Accents of red and black peeked through in furniture and small details like kitchen towels and hand woven floor mats. Her favorite was the random metal sign on the top of her kitchen cupboards, painted red and rusting with blocky type “THIS IS A GOOD SIGN”.
Laura strolled into the den, her boots muffled on the carpet as she approached the closed curtains of the half Carmilla had blocked off for studio space. She could hear the soft scuffing of her rubbing a flat surface but had no idea what the artist was doing.
“Hey!”
She scuffing paused long enough for Carmilla to call out “Hey, what’s up?” before resuming with her task.
Laura stepped closer to the closed curtain and bounced on her toes. “I guess you didn’t get my text then?”
“No, sorry… I was uh… dammit. I was working and my hands are dirty.” A sheet of paper flapped to the floor. “You can come in if you want, I’m just trying to start on those pieces for your article.”
“Oh great! I’m still glad you could pick up this job, the other guy was a tool…” She trailed off with a grumble and pawed through the heavy curtain.
Large sheets of a soft looking expensive paper were laid out on a drop cloth and dashed with values of rich black charcoal dust. Carmilla stood at the table against the window in a white tank top and one of her many pairs of black jeans with her hair thrown up. Dirty smudges marred the smooth fair skin of toned arms and pinched fingerprints stood out starkly on the fitted shirt. She turned when Laura sneezed and tugged the cheap construction mask away from her nose and mouth.
“Sorry about the dust, I think I have an extra mask if you want it?” She offered lazily, shaking dark messy bangs out of her eyes.
“No, I’m good.” Laura answered with a sniff. “What are you doing exactly?”
Carmilla jerked her head in a “come see” motion and repositioned the mask over her thin nose. She waited until Laura had picked her way around the small studio and stood beside her.
“Your article is on the working lower class, right?” She gestured to a couple of printouts of weathered people taped to the wall. “I’m creating a grungy base to work on top of. Easiest way to achieve that sometimes is with a jar of charcoal.”
Laura could tell the artist had her iconic smirk plastered to her face by the way her eyes crinkled at the corners and her brows rose almost arrogantly. Now that she was standing next to Carmilla, she noticed that her hands and wrists looked like she had buried them in the remains of a campfire-which technically she had… anyways. Laura nodded and watched Carmilla shake out a small amount onto a fresh sheet of paper. She was about to ask another question when the artist leaned in to look more closely at a photo of an elderly woman, down to the most recently prepared paper, and then back up to the photo. A few long glances later and Carmilla hummed lowly in her chest before beginning to carefully scuff the pile of charcoal out. She worked carefully, using the planes of her fingers to create sweeps and swoops that mimicked the contrasts in the photo.
“Any particular reason why you’re subjecting yourself to charcoal lung?”
Laura started when Carmilla’s lazy drawl brought her back from zoning out and watching her work.
“Oh, yeah. Pizza. I was gonna order and see if you wanted half or something.” She rushed out, heat crawling up her neck when her friend paused and met her gaze-but not before she had given her a heavy once-over. Laura felt as if Carmilla was sizing up a meal-which was ridiculous of course.
“I mean-if you’re not busy-which you are so I guess it was kinda silly of me to ask but I know sometimes you put off eating if you get really focused and-what?”
Carmilla laughed lowly and tilted her head.
“I said sure. I’d like that very much.”
“Oh. Okay! Great! Uh-how’s just plain cheese?” Laura scrambled to recover, hoping her blush wasn’t terribly evident.
“Throw pepperoni and peppers on half of it and I’ll cover the cinnamon sticks you like.”
“Alright I can do that.” Laura rushed out, relieved that Carmilla had ignored her awkward rambling for the millionth time.
The artist hummed in amusement and returned to her task, sure fingers pushing the dust around and pressing it into the soft tooth of the paper. Laura watched for a beat longer and tugged her phone out of her pocket, carefully stepping back to avoid bumping into the worktable. She was about to unlock her phone to call when one of Carmilla’s old sketchbooks caught her attention. It was flopped open to a myriad of notes and scribbles, but she could just make out a sketch on the next page as the breeze ruffled the paper.
Was that…?
“Carmilla?”
“What’s up, creampuff?”
“Can I… your sketchbook. I saw something-by accident!” Laura backpedaled quickly when Carmilla whipped her head around at a blinding speed.
“It was the wind! I know you don’t like people looking at your stuff, I didn’t mean to see it. I can-“ Her breath caught in her throat when Carmilla stepped into her space in a whirl of charcoal and faint expensive perfume.
Despite the lack of distance, the artist was more concerned with the sketchbook. Laura just happened to be standing where she wanted to be. Her hand hovered outstretched over the book, unsure of what to do. Laura didn’t even dare to breathe; the already warm room heating further with Carmilla’s close proximity and the attraction bubbling low in her belly. She kept her eyes trained on the side of the nervous woman’s neck. Tendons gently strained and the column of the artist’s throat bobbed with a thick swallow. Tension radiated off of rigid narrow shoulders but dissipated so quickly it threw Laura off guard. Carmilla flexed her fingers nervously and turned her impossibly dark eyes to Laura’s flushed face.
“You can look.”
Laura almost didn’t catch it Carmilla spoke so softly. Her mouth hung open for a moment as Carmilla retreated and forced herself back to work in an attempt to regain control of her mild bout of panic. Laura felt like her heart was in her throat and her lungs were pressing against her ribs. She shakily set her phone down on the tabletop and picked up the sketchbook with trembling fingers. The thick paper crinkled as she turned to the drawing that had caught her eye. Laura couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped her chest.
Dumbstruck was probably a good way to describe Laura at the moment. Dumbstruck and beyond flattered. On the page was a carefully crafted image of her likeness in graphite with a set of small neat numbers penned off to the side. Her eyes greedily drank in the drawing and every single hatch mark. It was gorgeous and a very personal insight to the artist’s mind-Laura didn’t think Carmilla had thought about her all that much. Apparently she was very wrong.
“This is me?” She asked in a small voice.
While she had been lost in her observation, Carmilla had set aside her newest sheet of paper and attacked a few with a can of spray fix. The artist straightened up and squared her shoulders before turning to face Laura.
She pulled the mask down under her chin again and chewed on her lip with a curt nod. A weak “yeah” eeked out in a show of shyness Laura hadn’t seen before.
“It’s very beautiful.” Laura complimented.
Carmilla smiled softly and hesitated for just a moment. “I had an attractive subject.”
Laura’s head jerked up at the quiet admittance and proceeded to do a fine impersonation of a fish. She could feel her face burning and started to wonder if she was reading too far into Carmilla’s words. Laura swallowed thickly.
“I think the artist might have a biased opinion.” She countered, drawing a genuine grin from Carmilla.
“Biased maybe, but sincere.”
Laura’s eyes fell back to the page in an attempt to find some footing. If Carmilla was saying what Laura thought she was saying… Hoo boy was she going to be in trouble.
“Laura?”
The voice came from right in front of her and the tiny brunette wondered how she had gotten so close. She also wondered why the sudden use of her real name left her stomach waltzing. With just a little apprehension, Laura forced her gaze away from the safety of the sketchbook and to Carmilla’s dark eyes. The artist’s gaze flicked from where they peered into Laura’s eyes then down to her lips and back up. Laura could see the apprehension bubbling under the surface and figured the only way to see how it was going to pan out was to return the banter.
“Perhaps I’ve got a biased opinion too.”
“And what would that be?” Carmilla’s gaze was now heavily resting on Laura’s mouth.
“That she’s one of the most obnoxious people I’ve ever come to have feelings for.”
It happened almost so quickly Laura didn’t realize that Carmilla had leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. Laura’s breath hitched in her chest and she hastily dropped the sketchbook to the desk.
“Kiss me again-please.” She whispered, fingers reaching and curling around Carmilla’s waist.
Carmilla grinned shyly and leaned in again, this time with Laura’s full attention. Laura’s eyes slid closed and she felt Carmilla cradle her jaw. She smiled into the artist’s mouth and then kissed her firmly, her nose pressing into Carmilla’s cheek. Carmilla was solid and welcoming against her with gentle affection. She smelled of dusty charcoal and fresh earth, tasting of just hint of the black coffee she nursed through the day. Warmth exploded in Laura’s chest and she slid her arms further around the slender woman, sighing in contentment as Carmilla slanted her mouth and pressed in. She let the small studio fall away for just a moment. Her heart thundered against her ribs and Laura decided this was the best thing that had happened to her this week.
Carmilla hummed lowly and gave a few quick kisses before leaning back a bit. Her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink and a grin pulled at her lips. Laura caught her breath but didn’t know what to say. She just wanted to kiss Carmilla again.
“Well.”
Carmilla laughed and gave her another kiss. “You have charcoal on your face.” She murmured.
“Oh gee, I wonder who’s fault that is.” Laura pretended to gripe.
“Just shut up.”
Laura didn’t need to be told twice.