Chapter Text
I glanced at the clock. It read 4:03 AM. Of course. I held a pickle jar in my hands and tried to pull the lid off again.
"Great," I muttered.
What am I supposed to do now? Of course I had to have a pickle craving at four in the morning.
I put the pickle jar down on the counter and slid down the side of the cabinets, trying to think of what I can do to get the pickle jar open. The cold floor shot dull, icy spikes into my thighs and I looked around the kitchen. On the table, there was a cake cutter thingy. Jumping up, I gabbed the pickle jar and went to the cake cutter.
Perry would kill me if I broke or bent this, so I had to be careful. She'd probably yell something like, "Laura Hollis! How many times have I told you that we do not pry the lids off jars," even though it'd be the first time she'd yell at me about prying the lid off a jar.
Ugh, whatever, I'm gonna do it. I grabbed the cake cutter and placed the tip just under the rim of the jar and pulled.
"Come on-- Stupid jar! Just budge!" I tried to persuade the inanimate pickle jar. Nice, Hollis. You've reached a new low.
While I pulled on the cake cutter, it somehow slipped from under the rim of the jar and the cake cutter came flying upwards and hit me in the face.
So, now I have a bloody nose and an undefeated jar full of the promised food. Dammit.
Pickle jar- 1, me- 0.
I decided to go for the only idea I could come up with. My next door neighbor. She was sarcastic and apathetic, but really, really strong. I could use that. Also, I should probably wait for my nose to stop bleeding and put some pants on.
Nah.
I put down the cake cutter, trading it for the pickle jar and marched out of the door.
I got to the door of the apartment next door and ran a hand through my hair, in an attempt to make myself look presentable for some reason.
I have to be at work in three hours, so the sooner I open the jar the better.
I knocked four times, precisely for the reason that, if she was, in fact, a whovian, I could get pleasure out of somewhat freaking her out.
I expected to have to wait a little before she came sauntering to the door and opened it, to find me, bloody and looking for revenge against a rude jar, but it was opened almost immediately.
With a smirk, the girl standing in the open door said, "Well, hello, cutie. I knew it wouldn't be long before you were pounding on my door, begging for my help with something unspeakable."
"I know it's 4AM, and I'm in my underwear and we all have to be places in the morning, but can you open this?" I asked, pushing the jar into her hands.
"Getting right to the point, are we? Also, I'm liking your demands, sweetheart," she said with a wink.
I rubbed at my nose and the gates were opened again, causing a new rush of blood to start lightly coming out of my nostrils. I must have been a sight, really. Standing there in a white t-shirt and bright pink underwear, nose bloody, and dark circles under my eyes.
"Just, please?" I asked.
"I don't know what I could possibly do after you seem to have hit it against your face several times in order to get these pickles out of this jar," she said, commenting on my nose.
"I tried to pry off the lid with a cake cutter, and it slipped and hit me in the face," I responded.
"Feisty, just how I like my girls," she said, smirking.
I blushed.
"I can imagine, gotta use that super strength for something other than opening pickle jars for your next door neighbor," I replied.
She blushed. Way to go, Hollis.
She sighed, and put her hand on top of the jar.
Under her breath, I heard her mutter "No Patrick, the lid."
"What?" I asked, knowing what she said.
Her head flew up and she looked at me like a deer caught in headlights.
"What? Nothing," she said.
"No, I heard you," I said, grinning, "You're a dork!"
"What? No I'm not. I am the night. Fear me," she said, not-so convincingly.
"Yeah, right," I said.
"Do you want me to open this for you, or not?" she asked.
"Please?" I said.
"You're lucky you're cute," she responded, pulling harder on the lid.
"I know," I said.
"Goddammit, it seems I am being bested by an inanimate object," she complained.
I snorted. "Don't give me that, you're the one that's bleeding. I don't even know your name, why am I opening your jar?" she argued.
"My name is Laura Hollis, and because if you don't you will have been defeated," I replied.
"My name is Carmilla Karnstein, and I refuse to give up," she said, pulling harder.
"Why are you even awake at this hour?" I asked.
"Because I am the night."
"The night is hot," I said, then after realizing that was aloud, I added, "Wait, shit."
"Ooh, you think I'm hot, Cupcake," Carmilla said with a smirk.
"You think I'm cute," I shot back.
"I think you're a lot of things," she said, with a slight seductiveness to her eyes.
I took a deep breath and a tiny shiver went down my spine.
"Shit," she muttered, pulling harder on the lid of the jar.
I giggled, and she shot me a glare.
"I have an idea, come inside. The paper towels are over there, for your nose. Don't bleed all over my stuff," she said, walking into her apartment with me at toe.
I accidentally stepped on a creaky floor board and she jumped almost a foot into the air.
"Are you okay?" I asked, concerned.
"Yeah, no, I'm fine," she said.
I gabbed a paper towel and we both sat down at the kitchen table. She used the leverage from being in a sitting position to push harder on the lid of the jar.
"Goodness gracious, Creampuff, is this how you get all your girls?" she asked with a laugh.
"Normally, no. But I'm glad it seems to be working on you." I joked back.
"I know, you must be over the moon sweetheart," she said, ginning.
"Oh, I am. Like the cow," I said.
"Dork," she joked.
"I know," I joked back.
After a moment, the lid of the pickle jar popped off onto the floor and some of the juice in the jar spilled onto her shirt.
"Ugh, shit," she said, pulling the shirt over her head and flinging it over her shoulder.
I blushed, and stared at her bra.
"Like what you see?" she said with a smirk.
"We all have different ways of getting the girl," I joked.
"Glad it seems to be working," she joked back.
"You must be over the moon," I said with a wink.
"Don't steal my lines," she said, sticking her tongue out.
"How else is anyone going to hear them?" I asked jokingly.
She opened her mouth, closed it back, and turned a shade of pink unknown to human kind.
"Touche," she said with a laugh.
She handed me the pickle jar, and took one from the opening of the glass jar.
"Hey!" I exclaimed.
"Price of the job, cutie." she said, munching on the pickle.
I laughed, and she smiled back at me.
There was a creak from the back of the apartment somewhere.
"I'm sorry, were we too loud?" I asked, thinking her other half, or study buddy, or whatever, must have been awoken, because there's no way a girl that beautiful doesn't have someone.
She had grown sort of pale, and her eyes were searching around the room.
"Carmilla?" I called her name.
"Hm? Oh, is that what you thought? No, we're the only ones here," she said.
"Then what is that noise?" I asked, because there seemed to be footsteps walking closer and closer.
"Okay so I moved in here like a week ago," she gestured to the boxes lying about, "and I'm 100% sure this place is haunted."
I stared at her for a couple seconds, and then started laughing.
"Shut up! It might get us!" she said, looking panicked.
"Wait, are you serious right now?" I asked, now concerned.
"Yes!" she exclaimed.
"Fine, come on," I said, getting up and picking up the pickle jar lid. She closed the door behind us, and we walked to my apartment. I opened the door, and flicked the light switch on. She closed my door and sat down at my table.
"Um, we don't actually have a couch," I started and her head flicked up before I could go on.
"We?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah, my friends LaFontaine and their girlfriend Perry live here with me," I said.
"Oh, cool," she said, worry leaving her eyes.
"Anyway, you can sleep in my bed. Do you want a shirt to sleep in?" I asked.
"Nah, I already told you Cupcake, this is how I get the ladies," she said with a wink.
"Right, how could I forget," I said.
"I have no ideas as to how it could've slipped your mind, sweetheart," she said.
"Okay, I have to be at work in like, two and a half hours, so I'm going to sleep. Are you coming?" I asked.
"So that's how you usually get your ladies," she joked.
I put a hand over my heart and staggered back, "Agh! You've caught me!" I exclaimed.
"Dork," she said.
"Nerd," I responded.
"How you wound me, sweetheart," she said.
"Are you coming or not?" I asked, as I stopped in the hallway, looking over my shoulder.
She sat there for a second, then got up too fast and caught her foot on the chair, taking a nosedive to the floor.
"Ow," she said, getting up and rubbing her head. I laughed, and she frowned.
"That hurt, Sweetheart, are you just going to laugh at me?" she asked.
"Yep." I said, still giggling.
She grinned, and sauntered over to me.
In her most seductive voice, she whispered, "I thought it was time for bed?" and walked down the hallway.
"Goddammit," I whispered, and followed after her to my bedroom.
"Cupcake?" she said once we arrived at my room, "This is a tiny bed, meant for someone your size--" "
"You're like an inch taller than me, and," I walked towards the bed and leaned down, pulling out the trundle bed, "It's actually two beds." I proudly motioned to the bed that came from under my bed.
"Sweetheart, I'm not going to comment on how much of a nerd you are being in this exact moment, and instead focus on the fact that there isn't a mattress on that bed," she pointed out.
I looked down disappointingly at the bed that made my bed bigger on the inside, like the TARDIS.
"Darn. I guess we'll have to share my bed, then," I looked back up to face her, "And that isn't how I get my ladies."
She laughed.
"How, then?" she asked.
"If you let me take you out to dinner Saturday, you can find out," I said, and climbed into the left side of the bed.
"Alright, Sweetheart. Alright," she said, and climbed into bed next to me.
We fell asleep not that much longer, happily droning out the sounds of the city around us.