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Laura had had an unbelievably bad day.
Carmilla hadn’t seen her since she’d left the house this morning, but she could tell by the frequency of flustered text messages she had received throughout the day that Laura would not be happy when she got home.
Yikes.
So, shortly before Carmilla knew Laura would be arriving back, she headed out to the shops a few streets over to pick up provisions.
As she walked down the street, Carmilla thought about how different her life had become since Laura had waltzed—or, more accurately, stumbled—into it. Everything had changed; at first for the worst, but, shortly after, for all the best. She wanted to do whatever she could to make Laura’s every day better. She wasn’t usually outwardly romantic, but when she did take the time to be, it meant something special—to both of them. At least, that’s what she hoped.
Carmilla had always had a romantic side, but for the most part, she had kept it hidden away since her plans with Elle had crashed and burned all those years ago. But she couldn’t help it; Laura brought out everything in Carmilla that she thought she never wanted to feel again. With Laura, everything was magic, even the bad days. Carmilla figured that if Laura could make magic out of their every day together, she wanted to do her best to return the feeling.
The first stop was the bakery, where Carmilla bought a box of creampuffs—outrageously expensive, but worth the smile they put on Laura’s face every time she ate them. Next was the flower shop; not exactly Carmilla’s forte, but she knew Laura loved lilies. She was always quoting that one line about them from that sappy romcom, which she loved and which Carmilla suffered silently through. Mostly silently, anyway. The last stop was the liquor store. Laura wasn’t much of a drinker, but Carmilla knew that a cool glass of Moscato would be a welcome sight for her after such a long day.
Finally, arms full, Carmilla headed back home. She just hoped she would get back before Laura; she hadn’t expected to take so long getting what she needed. She had only been about twenty minutes, but Laura was fast when she was aggravated. Carmilla lengthened her stride at the thought.
As she entered the building and headed up to their third-floor apartment, Carmilla heard—and felt—the vibrations of heavy drums reverberating down the stairwell from above. She knit her brow, confused. Had she accidentally knocked over the stereo remote before she left? She doubted it, but she couldn’t imagine Laura was listening to music at this decibel.
When she reached the landing and pulled out her keys, the sounds of grungy guitar and—was that screaming? –came through the door. Carmilla started to worry; was someone robbing the apartment and trying to cover the sound? Was Laura being held hostage? At this thought, she turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open cautiously.
With the barrier removed, Carmilla was now thoroughly affronted with the sound waves emanating from within the apartment. The drums and guitar were heavy, and much louder now. And there was indeed screaming, but it was of lyrics, and it was the to the beat of the song—only a partial relief. Now, though, Carmilla could make out two voices: one prerecorded on the track, and another, slightly off pitch—as off-pitch as scream-singing could be—and sounding an awful lot like Laura’s.
Sit down! Shut up! We’ve heard enough!
Sit down! Shut up! We’ve heard enough!
Apart from the screaming repetition, nothing could have prepared Carmilla for the sight she was greeted with when she poked her head around the doorframe. On the floor in front of her lay Laura’s shiny black flats, clearly kicked off in a hurry. Her navy blazer was not much farther, half inside out and flung down in a hurry, right beside its matching skirt.
And there, in the middle of the living room, barefoot and tank topped, stood Laura in profile. Stood was a word for it, anyway, if not exactly the correct one. She was leaning over, hands on her knees, and beyond that she was a blur of hair, whipping around in circles, then back and forth. When Laura threw her head back to belt the next lyrics, eyes closed, Carmilla couldn’t help her jaw dropping slightly open.
Clever girl does not forget,
My mouth is dry, your blood is wet!
So you better run, you better fucking run, boy!
Carmilla’s eyebrow rose, and she smirked, enjoying the show now. Oh, yes. This was a show. And she wanted to watch for as long as possible. She shut the door quietly and leaned back against it, taking in the sight of her tiny, gay, and mighty Laura dancing in her own little, slightly terrifying—and vaguely arousing—world.
Laura began jumping up and down as the next chorus started, banging her head in only slightly smaller arcs in an attempt to maintain her balance. She was in the middle of her third rotation and a particularly pitchy lyric when her foot caught in her blazer sleeve, pulling her down to the floor.
“Damn it!” she said to herself, standing up to face the other side of the room. She rubbed at her underwear-clad butt cheek, turning to assess the damage. As she did, her gaze snapped to Carmilla, who was still leaning against the door with her leather jacket and cheering-up gifts, looking for all the world like a suave and very smug vampire.
Laura’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open; she reached for the remote on the couch beside her and hit pause. The silence felt ten times louder than the music had.
“Hey, cutie. Watcha doin’?” Carmilla asked, her attempt at being casual barely masking the amusement this turn of events had brought her.
“Uh, hey, Carm. I thought you went out hunting or something. I was home a bit early and this day sucked and I mean, um, I just threw on the radio and this awful song came on but I just left it on and wanted to get out some of this negative energy and—” Her eyes darted down to the contents of Carmilla’s arms, rant forgotten. “What’s all that?”
Carmilla pealed herself off the door, careful not to trip over the discarded clothing as she approached Laura, who was now fiddling with the hem of her tank top. The blush she was forming heightened the coloring of her cheeks, already flushed from the exercise.
“These,” Carmilla began, holding out the bouquet of lilies and box of creampuffs, “are to help distract you from the unbelievably bad day you’ve had. The worst, apparently. And this,” she continued, nodding toward the wine bottle under her arm, “is to help distract me from whatever it is that I just witnessed.” She grinned and crinkled her nose playfully.
Laura looked at Carmilla, chagrined, but her face brightened as she reached for the flowers. “Lilies,” she said softly, smiling, “my favorite.”
“Yeah, I’ve watched that ‘unstoppable force’ crap with you enough times to know they would help you forget about at least one of today’s mishaps. And I was hoping those would help you forget the rest.” She gestured to the creampuff box, which Laura had snatched up directly after the flowers.
“I love them. Thanks, Carm,” Laura said. She stuck the flowers under her arm and dug into the creampuff box, shoving one into her mouth and groaning. “This day is so much better now.”
“Oh, good,” Carmilla replied, placing the wine bottle on the coffee table. “Because I was worried that I had missed my chance to cheer you up. How could my pitiful gestures stand up against the elegant musical stylings of…” she trailed off, looking toward Laura questioningly.
“Sharptooth,” mumbled Laura through a mouthful of creampuff.
“Sharptooth,” Carmilla repeated, stepping closer to Laura. “Right. How fitting. Although I did think I was the only sharp tooth in your life.” She took the flowers from under Laura’s arm and the box of sweets, placing them beside the bottle. She watched Laura swallow her last bite of creampuff and stare forlornly at the box. “I didn’t know you liked metal.”
“Oh, that’s not metal,” Laura started. “It’s more like hardcore punk music. I have listened to some metal but when I’m really annoyed it just doesn’t have the same effect and it’s just so cathartic to head bang and scream along to sometimes. And, you know, I really wasn’t expecting you to be home, and I can wear headphones next time or just, I don’t know, go to the park instead. Or pick up yoga. I know that would be more constructive probably but I—”
“Laura.”
“Right, sorry. I just didn’t want to alarm you or weird you out or something. I know heavy music doesn’t really fit with my personality,” Laura explained nervously.
Carmilla ran her hands down Laura’s arms, taking her hands in her own. “Hey, cupcake, whatever you like is what fits in with your personality. You don’t have to fit some kind of mold. Take it from a 340-year-old lesbian vampire. Being different is good, being surprising is good. I don’t want you to act like some version of yourself that you think I expect. I want you to be you. Sappy romcoms; angsty, hardcore, tiny gay rage music; sweet tooth; and all. I want all of you. I love you.”
Laura looked up at Carmilla, wrapped her arms around her neck, and kissed her hard. Carmilla rested her hands on Laura’s hips, tracing circles with her thumbs against the skin that showed below the tank top hem. She sighed, relaxing into the kiss. She could feel Laura relaxing as well, her shoulders dropping and arms unwrapping, hands coming to rest on Carmilla’s collarbone. She kissed Carmilla once more before pulling back.
“I love you, too.”
Carmilla leaned forward, kissing the shell of Laura’s ear. “Now, how about we open up that bottle of wine and…start getting reacquainted with all of each other?” Carmilla’s voice was low, and Laura felt goosebumps rise on the back of her neck.
“Yeah, just…one thing…” Laura pulled back, swaying for a second, before she grabbed both the wine bottle and creampuff box and ran off down the hall. “Race you!” she threw back toward Carmilla, who shook her head and smiled. She started peeling off her jacket as she sauntered after Laura. She tossed the leather behind her, and it landed on top of the long-discarded blazer.
Guess things really are turning around on Laura’s worst day ever, she thought to herself. Score one for the sharp tooth.