Chapter Text
Carmilla
It had been years since you visited Paris. In fact the last time you were here, Elle proposed, but you tried not to think about that, considering it was all a ploy her and your mother conjured up. But, it was whatever. This trip was different. Just two friends, exploring, no intention of making things more. Simple.
Until it wasn’t.
Because nothing about Laura Eileen Hollis was simple .
But maybe that was what you loved about her. And if loving her was the simplest thing about your relationship, you’d call that a win.
You were supposed to be taking things slow. You were supposed to be wading into whatever you two had going on like you were doggy paddling through molasses in the midst of a long Canadian winter.
You learned pretty quickly that things never went as planned.
It started slow. And promptly lasted until the both of you stepped off the plane and Laura grabbed you by the hand and practically dragged you through the airport to the luggage claim and then out the doors and into a taxi.
The look on her face as she took in everything around her, her nose pushed up against the window like an infatuated child, made your heart flutter like a fucking hummingbird in flight. When Laura saw La tour Eiffel for the first time, her eyes lit up and she turned to you, mouth hanging open in pure awe. She pointed out the window, telling you to look, but you could only watch her, the source of the matching wonderment in your eyes completely different from her own. You didn’t have the heart to tell her your memories of the Eiffel Tower weren’t very fond ones. Maybe at the time, they were, but now that you know what Elle and your mother did...the wounds felt like they were reopening just a little. At least Laura was there to keep them closed.
And with that thought, you realized you were well and truly fucked on the whole relationship=molasses thing.
Finally in the hotel room, Laura had her entire suitcase unpacked and it’s contents put away into the dresser drawers before you even had your clothes for the rest of the day picked out. She was nearly vibrating with excitement and looking at the view of the Eiffel Tower from the hotel room balcony one minute and the next, she was wrapping her arms around your neck and pulling you in for the longest, warmest Hollis hug you’d ever had the pleasure of receiving. It was almost instinct to wrap your arms round her waist and bury your face in her shoulder while she thanked you with a million hushed whispers in your ear.
Jet lag caught up to her quickly after that, or maybe it was the adrenaline finally dropping from being in a new country and a new city for the first time, but she was out like a light and sprawled out across the entire bed by the time you finished putting your clothes away.
When you crawled into bed next to her, your intention was to wake her up with a light kiss to her forehead and a tap to her shoulder with the preposition of a true French espresso, but she only opened her eyes enough to find the collar of your shirt and drag you on top of her, until you fit comfortably together on top of the fresh linen tucked into the mattress.
When she held you against her and promptly fell back asleep, you didn’t bother trying to wake her up again, and instead allowed yourself to be lulled into unconsciousness by the beat of her heart and the steady rise-and-fall of her chest.
Laura
When you woke up again, Carmilla’s nose was nestled into the crook of your neck, tickling your skin with every exhale. You could’ve laid there for hours more, but the sun was still up and you were in Paris with Carmilla . You didn’t want to waste your first day away by co napping with your favorite partner... co nap partner.
You woke her up gently, with slow circles to her lower back. She grumbled and groaned and complained about how it was technically your idea to take a nap, but you promised coffee and a late lunch and she dragged herself out of bed with a yawn to change.
Outside, you grabbed her hand and blamed it on not wanting to lose her in the sea of people walking down the sidewalk in front of your hotel. She guided you to a small café down the cobblestone street and spoke in perfect French to the woman behind the counter, ordering you something with a lot of sugar in it to mask the amount of espresso, even though you were more than capable of doing it yourself. She paid and left a generous tip as she took the drinks, handing you yours, and grabbing your hand again.
You ordered and paid for lunch, stopping at a quaint family-owned charcuterie a little further down the way and picked up some fresh fruit from a vendor on the street. The two of you ate lunch in the grass of the Champ de Mars and she told you the gruesome history behind the park and you listened and hung onto every word. Though not a typical topic for picnic conversation, it was Carmilla who was telling it and you would have listened to her talk about massacres all day if it meant you got to hear her voice.
You explored the city for a bit after that. Carmilla stopped and hackled a street vendor with a cart full of every flower imaginable, for a single overpriced sunflower and smiled when she handed it to you. If it was anyone else, you would have found it entirely too cheesy. But it was Carmilla and she never ceased to keep things interesting.
You came across a tiny bookshop and you immediately dragged Carmilla through the door by your intertwined hands because you thought she’d be about as at home as she could be in what felt like another planet to you. You let her lead you through the stacks of books while she perused the pages of several novels, all in French, even keeping a couple in the crook of her arm to purchase.
You were getting close to the end of the line of aisles when she suddenly tugged on your hand and pulled you behind a cart of books to be put away. The area was secluded and you were positive the owner of the shop wouldn’t be able to see you. She set the books in her hand down on a stool near the bookshelf behind you and whispered your name like if she said it any louder, her voice would shatter whatever realm of possibility formed in the two syllables alone. She was looking at you like she wanted to kiss you or throw up or both. Her hands were shaking when she reached up to tucked your hair behind your ear and then she started rambling and you figured she probably spent way too much time around you.
“...I can’t--I can’t do this, this ‘slow’ thing with you. I tried , I really did, but it’s crazy ...when it comes to you, I’m the epitome of putty. You simply look at me and I would melt to your every whim - do whatever it took to keep that smile radiating across your face. And, I still can’t figure out how you got me like this, but I haven’t been able to shake this feeling. This feeling like, like you’re embedded into my bones. And, I know that sounds stupid, or cheesy as all hell, but God , do I hope you stay.”
Inside you were a fucking mess. Outside you were probably still a mess, but you couldn’t care less. You barely managed to get out a weak, “you fucking sap” before you choked on the lump in your throat.
“Only for you, sweetheart. Only for you,” came Carmilla’s reply and honestly, you didn’t see any other choice but to kiss her in between the shelves of a Paris bookstore while she gently caressed your cheek.
You ended up buying the books she had picked out as a thank you for the flower earlier, even if she refused, saying that the blush on your neck was enough.
You got gelato for dinner and ate it under a patio umbrella, where you told her you didn’t plan on leaving. That you were as embedded in her bones as she was yours. And she looked at you with such astonished bewilderment, like you put the constellations in the sky.
But you were no Greek goddess.
Just one Laura Eileen Hollis who finally realized that things would be okay and the world wasn't going to end because you loved a girl who loved you back.
The night ended with the two of you kissing like the French do against a brick building a block over from your hotel.