Chapter Text
From the back of the room, with her feet propped up and her eyes lazily gazing at a small spider weaving its net around some small bug, Carmilla lets out a heavy sigh.
“We need a new member.”
LaFontaine, all wide eyes and disheveled hair, is the first to protest, “What? Why?”
Carmilla levels them a glare, which is nothing unusual, really. On an average day that happens about two hundred or so times, if their calculations are right.
(And they are. They always are.)
“Look,” Danny interrupts, sensing they’re heading for yet another argument, “Much as I hate to agree with broody musician over there,” she points to Carmilla, who redirects her glare, “and we all know I do– she’s got a point.”
“Could you repeat that, please?” Carmilla’s voice echoes from the back of the room, all sweet and sugar, her tone something that both Danny and LaFontaine have come to know quite well.
“Don’t even start,” Danny rolls her eyes, pulling back the straps of her bass guitar and setting it aside on the ragged couch, carefully balancing it against the wall, “I love White Stripes as much as the next guy, but I don’t think we can pull off the whole two instruments thing.”
“But she can play, like, anything you put in front of her!”
Carmilla closes her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose, because, really? “I hardly doubt that I could play it all at once, though.”
LaF’s shoulders rise and fall as they softly pluck the chords on their guitar, “Well, that’s not my problem, is it?”
“Look, Mendel–”
“Okay, enough! You,” Danny points her pick at LaFontaine, the sun rays reflecting the bright colors of the small object, “stop antagonizing her. That’s, like, my job. And you,” she turns to the other girl in the room, who seems to have moved her attention from the ceiling to her drumsticks, “don’t be an asshole when I’m trying to support you. It really takes a toll on me and I’d rather not have to do it for very long.”
Carmilla twirls one of her drumsticks around her fingers, “Fine, whatever.”
“Yeah,” LaFontaine nods, their fingers moving faster as a melody starts to fill the room.
Danny flops on the couch, ignoring the cloud of dust that forms around her. Her eyes glance from the redhead on the other side of the room to the brunette on the drums, who seems to have picked up on LaFontaine’s beat. It’s not long before she is tempted to join in, and when the music starts flowing effortlessly around the room, she thinks maybe they’re finally speaking the same language.
(They may not agree on much - or anything, really - but music.)
(Music makes sense.)
They go on for a few minutes; note after note, fingers moving seamlessly against chords and drumsticks banging heavily in a combination of sounds and feelings, until, seemingly without any prompt, the room goes silent again.
LaFontaine is the first to speak up, “Okay, let’s do this.”
//
“Here you go,” Perry announces, setting two mugs and one glass on the table, “One black, no sugar. One latte, and one iced coffee.”
“Thanks, Perr,” LaFontaine grins, taking a sip of their drink as the other two occupants on the table nod at Perry.
“Sweetie, you have–” the redhead sighs softly, taking a napkin and dabbing carefully at their mouth. Her lips curve in a smile and her eyes glow as she replaces the napkin with her lips, pressing a quick kiss to their mouth. “There.”
“Er–”
Carmilla coughs, pulling her drink away from her lips, “Gross.”
Danny hums, “Agreed.”
“Assholes.”
“LaFontaine!”
The redhead drops their head, taking another sip of their drink, “Sorry, babe.”
Slurping on her straw, Danny leans back against her seat, lips curling in a way that let’s LaFontaine know exactly what’s coming next, “Whipped.”
Yep.
(Which, you know, they are, but still.)
“Don’t be petty, Danny, it’s unbecoming of you,” Perry chides, grabbing the empty packets of sugar strewn across the table, “It’s certainly not LaFontaine’s fault - or my own, for that matter - that you can’t seem to keep a hold of your significant others.”
There’s an ooo coming from LaFontaine’s mouth and Danny’s cheeks are burning as Carmilla takes her drink to her lips, muttering something that distinctly sounds like, ”Buuuurn,”, which, honestly, so rude.
Perry huffs, “Not that you’re much better, Carmilla, dear.”
The brunette crosses her arms, eyes rolling as LaFontaine laughs and Danny sends her a smug grin, “Whatever, like I care.”
Perry glances at the old clock hanging from the wall behind them and bites her lip for a second - she shouldn’t take a break now, but her boss is busy and the cafe is empty, so she doesn’t think he’ll mind - before nudging her partner further into the booth and taking a seat next to them.
She takes a sip of LaFontaine’s drink, smiling at the small hint of cinnamon that hits her tongue (they’re not too fond of it, but Perry loves it and she knows they added it just for her sake), “So, what is going on?”
“Carmilla thinks we need a new member.”
The brunette in question rolls her eyes, “Hagrid here agrees with me. And I thought you did too, unless you changed your mind in the last hour. Again.”
“I just don’t know why we can’t work with what we have,” LaFontaine explains, resting their face against Perry’s shoulder.
“Because then we’d be settling for something less than what we can be and I don’t think any of us wants that, right?”
“Kill me after I say this,” Carmilla groans, slipping in her seat until she’s practically laying down, “But I’m forced to agree with the lamp post.”
“Lamp post? Really? Your creativity has seen better days.”
“Bite me, Sasquatch.”
Perry watches as they dissolve into another argument, replaying in her mind all the times she’s witnessed this same scene taking place in front of her. Carmilla and Danny's relationship always reminded Perry of her days as a kid, when she’d try to stick magnets together but the positive sides would only go so far until they started repelling each other.
Eventually, she stopped trying to force it to happen.
(LaFontaine would later explain to her how it all worked and her mind would finally make sense of things.)
(Both the magnets and Carmilla and Danny.)
“Children,” she snaps her fingers in front of the two girls, effectively bringing the discussion to an end, “What exactly are you looking for in a new member?”
Carmilla shrugs, emptying her mug and pulling herself up against her seat, “Someone who can play.”
“Well, obviously, dear, but what instrument?”
LaFontaine is too busy nuzzling their nose against their girlfriend’s cheek to give any attention to the discussion taking place, their thumb tracing patterns against her hand, seemingly content to let the entire thing unfold in front of them.
“I was thinking of a drummer. No, shut up, let me finish,” Danny quickly adds, glaring at Carmilla, “You’re the lead singer. It honestly makes no sense for you to be all the way back on the drums and, frankly, I can’t sing for shit and we all know how LaF gets whenever they have to lead.”
“I wanna be insulted, but I can’t, so I’ll just remain quiet in my corner,” LaFontaine declares, smiling as Perry presses a supportive kiss to their cheek and slips out of the booth.
The redhead takes their empty mugs and Danny’s empty glass, “I have to get back to work, but I’ll come back and check on you soon.”
“Thanks, love.”
Carmilla makes gagging noises at the scene, earning a elbow on her side from the bassist next to her. She is tempted to return the violent act and wipe out the shit-eating grin on Danny's face, but she catches the pointed look LaFontaine sends her way and figures that perhaps vengeance can come later.
"So," she exhales softly, glancing from one band member to another. "A drummer."
Danny nods decisively, "I'm not saying we're gonna find another you- and I mean, I really hope that we won't, but I'm sure we can score a girl who at least knows what she's doing."
"Why, Bean Pole," Carmilla smirks, "I swear I can find a compliment in there somewhere."
“Shut up. Why do I even put up with you?”
//
Her back hurts and her eyes are heavy by the time Carmilla manages to slouch back to her room.
A day with Danny and LaFontaine is never anything short of exhausting for her, but she thinks, this time, they’ve managed to outdo themselves. Yes, she had been the one to throw the idea of a new member on the table - and it hadn’t been one of her brightest, she’ll admit it - but Carmilla honestly didn’t expect it to unravel such a big discussion.
Everything was simple in her mind; sadly, her bandmates had a tendency to complicate things.
She manages to flick on the light after stumbling over one of her boots, running her eyes around the room in search for the other half of the pair, but coming up empty. It occurs to her that she may be misplacing more things than one should in such a small room, but she files the thought for later, only kicking the offending piece of footwear aside and throwing her bag on her bed, thanking her lucky stars that, when she flops next to it, nothing pokes into her body.
Her legs have turned to jelly and she can feel an annoying throbbing behind her eyes, but she’s known herself for 21 years now and sadly sleep is not likely to come on this night anymore than it has for the past five years.
“Might as well be productive,” she mutters to herself, sitting up and reaching for the sketch pad that seems to have been swallowed by her sheets somewhere in the past day.
By the time she’s sneaking around the Silas’ halls, three pieces of paper in one hand, keychain on the other and a satisfied smile in her lips, she decides maybe being productive isn’t so bad after all.
(Which is not saying that she’ll make a habit out of it, of course.)
//
”Where the hell are you?”
“I-shit- I’m on my way.”
”Well, hurry up, Wednesday Addams is about to have a stroke.”
“Tell her to chill the fuck out, I’ll be there in five minutes.”
The line disconnects and LaFontaine tosses their phone aside, leaning against the couch to examine the throbbing pain that’s coming from their left toe. They wiggle it, not bothering to take off their shoes, and when only a mild pain results from it, grab back their phone and rush for their messenger bag, nearly avoiding their computer desk in the process.
The air is starting to cool in Styria, which makes them pull their sweater closer to their body as they leave the dorms. If they'd been back home, they'd still be basking in the last waves of summer heat, but things tended to get colder faster in the middle of fucking nowhere, and that seemed to be specially true for the Silas University campus.
They don't dwell too much on it, though; lately their time alone has been focused on one thing and one thing only.
Well, actually, more like a date.
Their two-year anniversary with Perry is coming and the truth is that they're legit freaking out trying to come up a celebration worth of their girlfriend's amazingness.
(There will never be anything.
LaFontaine could bottle the sun, the moon and the stars and Perry would still be worth a lot more.)
Ironically enough, they know Perry and they know none of these things matter to their girlfriend. Twenty four months is a long time, but for them, it's a lot more than that.
It's their entire lives.
Two years might be the official mark, but Perry has always been there, their one constant in a life that has been nothing short of a rollercoaster ride. Through ups and downs, she's been their rock - never faltering and never breaking.
LaFontaine can never put in words or in gestures how much they appreciate this, but they'll be damned if they don't try their hardest.
Everything has to be perfect.
(They’re pretty sure they’re gonna screw it up, somehow.)
(And Lola Perry will still love them anyway.)
Carmilla and Danny could probably help, if they weren’t so busy trying to claw out each other’s eyes all the time. It’s an exercise in patience being on a band with those two, but whenever LaFontaine sees a person they think they’d get along quite well and decides to replace Carmilla or Danny for them in their mind, somehow it just never seems to work. It’s weird, how they’re so conditioned to accept something that makes no sense whatsoever, but at the same time, well, sort of does.
(It’s a weird world. They don’t let themselves get too caught up in these things anymore.)
(It doesn’t mean that they're not still useless about 76% of the time.)
The old shed behind the Lustig is rumoured to be hunted, and when LaFontaine pushes the wooden door with an annoying creak and comes face to face with Carmilla, they make a note in their brain that maybe those rumours aren’t as unfounded as they usually thought they were.
“I’m here,” they announce, kicking the door a couple times to close it, “What was so urgent that you had to wake me up at the crack of dawn on a freaking saturday?”
Danny lifts a piece of paper and LaFontaine’s jaw drops, “Holy shit.”
“Apparently our resident artist was busy last night,” the bassist explains, glancing at Carmilla and then shoving the paper on LaFontaine’s hand, “Did you even know she could do that?”
LaFontaine shakes their head, “I think we can all agree there’s a lot about Carmilla that we don’t know.”
Carmilla huffs, leaning back against the wall and resting her feet on top of her bass drum, “I can hear you two idiots, you know?”
“Oh, we know, we just don’t care,” LaFontaine assures her, eyes still glued to the paper in their hand, where they can see beautifully drawn images of the three of them, instruments in hand, looking far more badass than they’re sure they actually are, “This is really good.”
Carmilla shrugs, tapping her drumsticks against each other, “I figured it would help us get someone good if we don’t look like a bunch of amateurs.”
Danny crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes, “We’re not amateurs.”
“I know that, dumbass,” the drummer pushes herself up, sitting straighter against the wall, “But that’s not common knowledge yet, is it?”
LaFontaine decides to intervene when they notice the throbbing vein on Danny’s neck, a tell-tale sign that things are about to get out of hand.
Again.
“How many of these did you make?” they raise an eyebrow at Carmilla, who only points to a pile of paper sitting next to her drumset, “Holy- did you draw all those?”
She rolls her eyes, “Of course not. I made, like, three variations and I photocopied them. Modern technology and all, you know?”
“And where exactly did you find a place to photocopy them in the middle of the night?” Danny asks, raising an eyebrow at Carmilla, who only shrugs.
“Secret,” she clicks her tongue, winking at the tall redhead.
It’s the same answer they got when Carmilla found the abandoned shed they now basically used as headquarters, not only rehearsal room. And when her drum set just showed up in said room, as if those things could be carried around in her backpack and taken out at a moment’s notice. Whenever she did that, they just knew it was better to leave it alone.
(If she wants to keep her air of mystery, it’s fine. They all have secrets, anyway.)
//
The sound of the doorbell echoes through the house, and one of the girls sitting in the living room calls out, “Danny, it’s your turn!”
“Shit,” Danny curses, slipping on a random sweater and throwing away the towel that’s wrapped around her head, which haphazardly lands on her computer chair, “Coming!”
She grabs her money and races down the stairs, running a hand through her hair to make it slightly presentable as she opens the door, “Sorry, I-”
“What’s up, Summer Psycho?”
Danny narrows her eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh, “What are you doing here?”
“Delivering your pizza,” the boy answers, furrowing his brows. “Wait. You didn’t order it? Oh, man, not again. Boss bro is gonna kill me.”
It’s an amusing sight and she’s honestly half tempted to let the boy in front of her suffer for a few more minutes, but her sisters are getting hungry and, honestly, the faster she manages to get rid of him the better for her sanity.
(And his physical health.)
“Hey, beefcake,” she calls, but he pays no attention to her, pulling out papers from his back pocket and checking them carefully.
“No, I’m pretty sure I’m-”
“Kirsch!” his wide eyes snap to hers and she’s momentarily distracted by how much of a scared animal he looks, “We did order it. Surprisingly enough, you didn’t mess it up. But Will is our usual delivery guy.”
Kirsch brightens at this and his smile stretches in that way that annoys Danny so much, “Oh, yeah!” he nods, “He asked to switch up his day off, so I’m covering for him. Cause, like, that’s what bros do.”
“Yeah, whatever, can I have my food now? We’re hungry.”
He seems to remember why he’s there in the first place and quickly nods, passing her the boxes of pizza and taking the money she’s handing him.
“Have a good movie night,” he winks, “Thanks for the tip.”
She rolls her eyes, “You’re only getting it because I thought you were Will. Don’t get used to it.”
“Whatever you say, girl-bro.”
He walks away with that annoying grin on his face and she walks inside, kicking the door closed and moving to the living room, where her sisters have already made themselves comfortable in each and every available surface but still managed to save a place for her.
“Pizza’s here!” she announces, handing the boxes around to whoops and cheers from the other girls.
It's only when she takes her usual spot and grabs a slice of pizza for herself that her brain catches up to what Kirsch said.
(How the hell did he even know about the Summer Society Saturday Movie Night tradition?)
//
By the time wednesday rolls around, Perry is convinced this whole thing is a disaster.
No, she doesn't know music like LaFontaine and Danny and she's certainly not a prodigy like Carmilla, but after so much time spent in their rehearsals, she likes to think that she at least understands a bit of what they're looking for in a potential bandmate.
And she also knows them well enough to read the little signs in their body language; how tightly Carmilla is gripping the neck of her guitar, or how Danny nearly tore one of her bass strings when the last girl missed her cue and messed up the tempo of the whole song.
Or how LaFontaine's eyes are pressed shut and they're taking deep breaths with small breaks between them, which she’s sure it means they’re counting in their head.
"Okay!" she exclaims, dragging the word as she moves to usher yet another girl out of the door, "We'll be in touch, sweetie, thank you for coming."
"This is the stupidest idea I've ever had," Carmilla sighs, flopping down on the couch and running her hands across her face.
Danny glares at her, "No shit, Sherlock."
"I hate to say 'I told you so'," LaFontaine starts, moving to take a seat next to Perry, "but-"
"I swear, if you start singing I'm going to punch you in the face," Carmilla snarls.
Perry sits straighter, "First of all, no violence."
"Whatever."
"Second of all," she continues, ignoring Carmilla, "We've only seen, what, ten girls?"
"Twelve," Danny supplies.
"Twelve," she nods, her hand rubbing small circles on LaFontaine's right knee, "There's still hope, right?"
She's trying to see the bright side, but Carmilla's snort and Danny's eye-roll are enough to tell her that they're having none of it.
"You're right, baby," LaFontaine assures her, and though she knows they're only doing it out of support, she loves them a little bit more for it.
"The only way we're gonna get a kickass drummer who's somewhat tolerable is either by a miracle or ritual sacrifice and I'm not sure I'm comfortable with either," Carmilla says, letting her head fall back against the couch.
The words are barely out of her mouth when there's a knock on the door.
"Uh, excuse me?" a girl pops her head inside, "Is this- Are you guys the ones looking for a new drummer?"
Danny's eyes snap to the girl at the door and they widen in recognition, "Laura?"
Perry watches as Laura Hollis enters the small shed, looking just as tiny and cute as she remembers from the days Danny used to drag her everywhere, almost like a keychain hanging from her side.
"Oh, hey, Danny," Laura waves awkwardly, her eyes taking in the other occupants of the room, "Hi Perry, LaFontaine," she frowns at Carmilla, "Person I'm not familiar with."
Carmilla doesn't bother to introduce herself.
"That's Carmilla," Danny supplies, "don't pay attention to her, she's rude like that. What are you doing here?"
Laura's eyes, which were still glued on Carmilla's form, move back to Danny. She takes two drumsticks out of her back pockets and twirls them around her fingers, something that Carmilla finally seems to deem worthy of her attention.
"I'm here to try out," Laura informs, and Perry is sure she's not the only one who can hear the 'Duh,' at the end of her sentence. "Or audition, I don't know, is that how you call it?"
LaFontaine, bless their soul, is the one to break the awkwardness in the room, "I didn't know you played the drums, Frosh. That's pretty badass."
Laura's cheeks flush and she shrugs, still playing with her drumsticks, "Yeah, I don't tell a lot of people."
Danny's lower lip is jutted out and she can't seem to be able to stop staring at Laura, but before she can say anything, Carmilla jumps to her feet and fixes the strap of her guitar, raising an eyebrow at Laura.
"Well?" she asks, eyes flitting to the drum set on the back of the room. "Might as well go for it."
Perry smiles as LaFontaine stands up and presses a kiss to her cheek before taking their place, watching as the blonde sophomore pulls up the seat and settles herself behind the drums.
(Perry thinks she's not meant to belong there, but somehow she does.)
It's only when Laura starts them with a countdown that Danny snaps out of her thoughts, quickly falling into the song that Laura picked, one she's far more familiar with than she's willing to admit at that moment.
//
Carmilla doesn't want to admit this so early in the run, but the girl is good.
It's honestly surprising because Laura seems to be all shy smiles and sweet voice, and Carmilla is half tempted to check if the girl hasn't been possessed in the last few minutes because the change really is mind-boggling.
There's a fierceness to Laura that hadn't been there when she first stepped into the shed and it's like nothing Carmilla has ever seen before.
She glances a look behind her and almost loses a note when she notices how into the music the tiny blonde seems to be. She put her hair up in a bun before they started playing but now there are strands flowing carelessly as she bangs heavily on the drums, eyes closed and lips parted, a sight that seems to pull Carmilla in before she can even notice what's happening.
She's a drummer herself; she knows that it takes a little bit of anger to play the instrument - and she has it in spades, but she would never imagine that Laura would too. It doesn't seem to match her giddy smile and her glinting eyes. If Carmilla were to guess, she'd say Laura played the acoustic guitar or even an ukulele, all happiness and sunshine they were, but never the drums.
She hates to be blindsided like this.
(She'd probably hate it more if Laura wasn't such an interesting change to their lives.)
//
LaFontaine will never say this outloud, but Carmilla's idea? Genius.
Sure, they were against it at first and they're enough of a person to admit this, but that was before hurricane Laura Hollis stepped into their crappy shed and nearly tore down its walls - that probably weren't that sturdy to begin with.
They've known Laura since she was a freshman (and boy, was that year a ride), but they never would've guessed that she could play the drums and that she could play it so well. Honestly, she doesn't even look like she has the strength needed to actually make some noise.
(But she most definitely does and it's kind of scary.)
(They love it.)
When Laura is done, there's not even a question in their mind.
They've found a new drummer.
(They wonder how Danny’s gonna handle that.)
//
Danny knows, without a single doubt in her mind, that she's screwed.
She's screwed because Laura is a freaking amazing drummer (of course she is) and there's no way they can choose anyone else over her and fuck her life, really.
Things with Laura... hadn't ended as well as they could. Especially after Danny decided to be selfish and denied the paper extension Laura really needed, which in turn nearly made her fail her English Lit class.
Not one of her proudest moments.
(Granted, she had apologized, but there was still an awkwardness to their interactions that never really went away.)
But now Laura is gonna be their new drummer - and she is, there's no doubt in Danny's mind about this - and Danny hopes that she’ll be able to hand it like a grown woman (because that’s what she is, right?) and not fuck things up for them, but honestly, she has no idea how well that’s gonna go.
(Fuck her life.)
//
"Well, creampuff," Carmilla drawls as the last note of the song dies out, "Aren't you a sound for sore ears?"
LaFontaine grins, "Yeah, L, that was awesome."
Laura's cheeks seem to be permanently tinged red and a few strands of her hair are sticking on her forehead, but she seems pleased enough with herself, if the smile threatening to break her face in half is any indication.
"Thanks, guys."
"I truthfully know nothing about the intricacies of putting a band together," Perry starts, running the palm of her hands against her jeans, "But you girls sounded really nice."
LaFontaine grins as they move to press a quick kiss to their girlfriend's lips. Once they pull back, they chance a glance at Carmilla and Danny, who in turn glance at each other and give a small and nearly imperceptible nod.
"Well," Danny is the one to break the silence, biting her lip as she turns to Laura, "Do you want in?"
Laura lets out an honest-to-god squeal and Carmilla is half tempted to take back the offer, because, seriously, a fucking squeal? What are they, twelve? But Laura is already nodding and grinning and it’s so motherfucking infectious that, honestly, she knows it's too late to turn back.
"I'd love to!" Laura exclaims, suddenly hitting the drums in what seems to be a celebrating sound.
"Here we go," Carmilla mutters to herself, but her eyes are trained on Laura and her lips are slightly turned up and she has the feelings that her words don't have the quite the bite she seems to think they do.
//
*Insert Band Name Here*
[6:35pm]
Carmilla K. added Creampuff to the group
[Carmilla K.]
Rehearsals mon/wed/fri 7:30pm & sat 2pm, don't be late.
[Creampuff]
Okay! I won't!! :) :) :)
[Darwin]
This is gonna be awesome, I can't wait til we're rocking this campjks
[Darwin]
Campus*
[JGG]
I'm not sure rockng this campus is the safest thing 2 do, I mean, u did c wat happned when the Geography club built that earthquake simulator, right?
[Carmilla K.]
I'm pretty sure she meant that figuratively, jockbrain.
[JGG]
But is nthing ever just figurative in the Silas campus?
[Creampuff]
I think Danny has a point
[Carmilla K.]
Whatever, it's still dumb.
[Darwin]
Dude, that earthquake simulator was the shit!
[Creampuff]
It nearly destroyed half of the Campus, Laf!
[Carmilla K.]
I wouldn't say nearly half. Maybe 25%.
[JGG]
I nearly died in the library.
[Carmilla K.]
Pity.
[Creampuff]
That she nearly died??
[Carmilla K.]
That she didn't.
[Creampuff]
Oh?
[Darwin]
Oh, yea, I forgot 'bout that, Danny. That part wasn't cool.
[JGG]
HA HA HA, u're hilarious, Carmilla. And nope, it wasn't cool at all, tyvm.
[Carmilla K.]
Thank you, I'm well aware.
//
There is something about Thursdays that make Laura want to stick her head into a burning oven, or something equally as painful.
Maybe it’s the fact she has one class at the crack of dawn, another after lunch and then one in the end of the afternoon and she basically can’t do anything in between. Or maybe it’s because Thursdays are apparently healthy days in the Silas cafeteria and they only serve food that’s either green or , well, green, and she’s fairly convinced that nothing exciting ever happens on a Thursday - they’re just generally are awful. Not to mention the fact that Friday is so close but at the same time so far away and, honestly, what’s the deal with that?
Laura really hates Thursdays.
This Thursday in particular, however, takes the cake.
Her printer decided to act up when she was trying to print the paper she had due, which in turn made her late for her first class, resulting in a glare from her professor and his subsequent want for her to answer all questions which, needless to say, did not end well.
At lunch, as she forced down a plate of green leaves she couldn't even bother to name, some idiot decided it was fun to start a semi food war in the cafeteria and by the time she noticed what was going on, she already had food staining the entirety of her favorite shirt.
And she had no time to go change.
By the time her last class rolls around, Laura is just about begging for the earth to open up and swallow her whole, which, considering she goes to Silas University, isn't that much of a stretch.
Not surprisingly - as the world seems intent on punishing her - that doesn't happen and Laura is left to deal with her frustrations in the best way she knows.
(And the only way that her Dad approves.)
She almost breaks the spare key LaFontaine gave her trying to open the heavy padlock closed around a sturdy chain that guards the abandoned shed, and she has to kick the door a couple times to get it to open, but all of that seems inconsequential when she's seating behind the drum set, drum sticks held tightly in her callused hands, the heavy beat surrounding and swallowing her whole.
There's something about the strength and coordination required to play drums that makes the world disappear around Laura. Nothing in the world could ever compare to the feeling of having her problems rushing to her hands and ending in the mixture of elevating sounds and intensity that she has come to know so well over the years.
It washes away every last trouble that this godforsaken Thursday brought her, and by the time Laura opens her eyes again, her heartbeat is rushing and her forehead is sweaty and there's a grin on her lips that it hadn't been there a few minutes before.
She's also not alone anymore.
//
Carmilla is a few feet away from the band shed when she hears the tell-tale sound of someone rhythmically hitting drums and toms, the occasional cymbal thrown in the mix.
She falters as she grips the straps of her guitar case - she knows who’s in there and she’s half tempted to turn around and leave the other girl be. If the angry beat reaching her ears is any indication, Laura doesn’t want to be bothered.
Still, her body seems to have another idea, and before she can notice what’s going on, she finds herself opening the rusty door - lifting it slightly and pushing it in - and her gaze immediately falls on the tiny figure who looks more impressive than she did the day before, if such thing is possible.
(Carmilla doesn’t think it is, but Laura seems intent on surprising her.)
“Hey,” she calls when Laura looks at her, all wide eyes and raised eyebrows.
“Carmilla, hey!” she squeaks out, and then, “What are you doing here?”
The brunette tilts her head to the side, lips curling in a smirk, “Shouldn’t I be the one asking that? I’ve been coming here every Thursday, you, however, have… not.”
"Oh," Laura flushes. "I-" she bites her lip and then lets out a soft sigh, "I had a bad day."
Carmilla finds herself raising an eyebrow at Laura's answer.
(It explains a lot, but she honestly didn't expect her to be so forthcoming.)
"I see," she nods, dropping her guitar case next to the couch and flopping on it, "So..." she curls her lips in an amused smile, taking in the girl in front of her, "You're the one who pissed off the Dean last year and almost got expelled."
Laura's eyes nearly pop out of their sockets, "Almost got expelled?"
"According to the rumors," Carmilla shrugs, secretly loving the way Laura's cheeks seem to grow redder at her answer.
The blonde narrows her eyes, "And where exactly did these 'rumors'," she actually makes air quotes at this, though she's still holding her drumsticks and the whole thing is weird, "come from?"
Carmilla pretends to pick on her nails, "Some students, a few teachers," she pauses, meeting Laura's gaze, " The Dean herself."
"What?"
"Relax, Cupcake," she pulls her guitar from its case and starts plucking a few chords, "You're still here, right?"
Laura's lips are parted and she's blinking slowly at Carmilla, as if she wants to say something but isn't quite sure if she should. In the end, it seems she can't keep her mouth shut after all, because the words come spilling out anyway.
"I hardly think a couple of videos raising awareness to the lack of commitment the administration of this facility has with its students is a matter for expulsion," she lectures, her voice rising slightly, "If anything, they should be glad they're teaching students to have a sense of criticism, even if said criticism might come back to- well, bite them in the ass."
Carmilla is full-on grinning now, "Wow, aren't you a little spitfire?"
It's as if sweet, shy Laura suddenly vanished and in her place stands a strong and assertive young woman, and it all clicks in Carmilla's mind that Laura doesn't change when she plays the drums.
She frees herself.
It's dangerous for Carmilla to be making such deep observations in such a short amount of time, she knows. Because Laura seems like an incredible girl, who likes to help others and do what's right, and Carmilla?
Carmilla is an asshole.
(It's the worst combination in the world.)
(She would know, she's been through this.)
//
Laura isn't sure how to proceed.
She thinks she should leave because clearly Carmilla is not too fond of company (is she even fond of people at all?) and she had been coming to the shed long before Laura could even dream of its existence, so it's kind of the nice thing to do to leave her alone.
And yet, Laura isn't so sure of that.
She isn't sure because while Carmilla acts all cool and disaffected, the picture perfect of aloofness, her eyes seem to follow Laura's every move, traveling from her hands holding the drumsticks to her face and back again, not missing anything in between.
If Laura hadn't been so flushed from playing, she's convinced Carmilla's gaze would be enough to achieve the same result.
Is Carmilla- No, she wouldn't. They barely know each other.
"What happened?" Carmilla breaks the silence, and Laura realizes they've spent the past few minutes quietly gazing at each other.
"Huh?"
(Journalist extraordinaire, Laura Hollis.)
The guitarist seems amused, "Your day? You said it was bad," she shrugs, "What happened?"
Laura is sure that her surprise is written all over her face; Carmilla doesn't seem like the type of person to make small talk, but she doesn't strike the blonde as someone who would willingly jump into a heart-to-heart either.
"Uh," she hesitates, because now that her bandmate asked about it, her problems don't seem to be all that bad, "Just small things," she shrugs, "Annoying professors, idiotic boys who don't seem to have outgrown their teenage years."
"Ah," Carmilla nods, as if she knows exactly what Laura is talking about.
(Maybe she does.)
"Boys," she drawls, leaning back and extending her legs across the couch, "Always the problem, never the solution."
Laura chuckles because, well, yeah.
"Tell me about it."
Carmilla glances at Laura for a moment, and then, "So, Cupcake, why the drums?"
The question takes her by surprise once again; it seems that Carmilla is intent on disproving everything everyone's ever said about her in the Silas' halls, every whisper and every accusation that seemed to follow her wherever she went.
Laura pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, pulling her cellphone from her pocket to check the time before finally turning back to Carmilla, "I think that, is a topic for another day."
The brunette's eyebrows rise, or at least Laura thinks they do, because in a second her face is smooth and she's nodding, her usual smirk in place.
"Sure, cutie."
Her voice sounds slightly strained, but Laura doesn't let herself dwell too much on it as she grabs her things and moves towards the door.
"Good night, Carmilla," she says, biting lightly on her lip.
And again, the other girl throws her off, giving a small but honest smile, "Good night, Cupcake."
//
If there’s one thing in life LaFontaine basically lives for, are the quiet moments they get to spend with their girlfriend, simply basking in the way her hair curls around her ear whenever she pushes it back, or the way her nose curls up ever-so-slightly when she’s too focused on something.
It’s a cliché to talk about the little things, they know, but when it comes to Perry, that’s all they are.
(And if they never amount to be anything else, it’s fine by them.)
It’s funny, because they’ve spent so much of their time watching the other redhead, memorizing all the little intricacies of her body, every single curve and every single freckle - from the small birthmark on her thigh to the one on her left shoulder - and it still seems as if they discover something new every day. Something that makes them fall even deeper in love than they thought possible before she came along.
(Perry makes them believe everything is possible.)
“Sweetie?” she calls out, and LaFontaine blink slightly, realizing they’ve been staring for quite sometime.
They let out a small chuckle, “Sorry, baby. I got distracted.”
Perry rolls her eyes at them, but LaFontaine notices the smile tugging on her lips and leans in to press a kiss to them, which seems to satisfy the other redhead.
“I was asking if you’re done with your homework,” she explains, closing her books and stacking them on top of her desk.
“Not really,” they shrug, plucking a few chords on their guitar, which they’ve been quietly playing as Perry worked on her papers, “They’re not half as interesting as Perry-gazing.”
“You’re such a smooth talker,” their girlfriend smiles, taking the guitar and setting it aside.
When she cups LaFontaine’s face and brings them close together, they swear they can see the golden glints in her blue eyes.
(They’re breathless before their lips even touch.)
“Hey, Perr?” they ask, pulling back and nuzzling their nose against Perry’s.
“Sweetie?”
They smile as they lean down and press another kiss to their girlfriend’s lips, “Times Square can’t shine as bright as you.”
She hides her face in the curve of their neck and they can feel her breath as she lets out a soft whisper, one single word laced in the kind of adoration they’ve never known from anyone else, “LaFontaine.”
They press a kiss to her hair, then her nose, her cheeks and finally her lips, “I swear it’s true.”
//
[Danny]
Hey, you think we could talk before tomorrow’s rehearsal?
[Laura H.]
Uh, okay? I can get there a bit earlier, if that works?
[Danny]
Cool! Yeah, totally. Awesome. See you tomorrow.
[Laura H.]
See you!
//
“So,” her brother starts, shoving half of a pizza slice in his mouth, “did you find a new drummer?”
Carmilla glares at him, “Swallow your food first, you’re not an animal.”
Will rolls his eyes, but doesn’t argue as he chews his food and swallows it with a gulp of his grape soda, “So?”
“I did,” Carmilla nods, wrinkling her nose at a slice of olive that seems to have made its way to her pizza, “Laura Hollis, you know her? She’s a sophomore.”
He takes another bite, tilting his head in a way that make Carmilla feel as if she’s looking at a mirror.
It’s to be expected, of course, because they did come out of their mother’s womb on the same day and since then have shared basically everything in life.
(Including a few girlfriends, at some point - which, no, she’s not proud to admit.)
But sometimes, when she’s feeling particularly contemplative, Carmilla still finds herself baffled at the idea that there’s a person in the world who shares not only her physical qualities but also the little mannerisms and habits that make her who she is.
(Or maybe make them who they are.)
(It’s some sort of mindfuck, seriously.)
“Wait,” Will snaps her out of her reveries, “Is that the kid who got mom really pissed last year?”
Carmilla smirks; it seems that Laura Hollis has made more of an impression than she originally thought.
“Yeah, that’s her.”
He finishes inhaling his third slice of pizza and when he leans back against the wall and pulls his feet on her bed, Carmilla throws him a slicing glare and immediately kicks them off.
“Mother is gonna kill you when she hears about this,” he says, as if Carmilla didn’t know that already.
(She does. And she’s secretly glad.)
Will glances at her, “You’re just doing this to piss her off, aren’t you?”
(Or maybe not so secretly.)
“No,” she shakes her head, throwing the crust of her pizza back on the box and lying next to him, “I mean, I’m not saying that it won’t be one of the greatest things in my life to see her shit a brick over this, but Laura is actually really good. We were lucky to find her.”
“Is she hot?” he wiggles his eyebrows, and Carmilla throws a pillow at his face.
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to be an asshole?”
(She knows he doesn’t mean anything by it, but she’s surprisingly angry at the thought of her brother objectifying Laura.)
“Please,” he scoffs, “being an asshole was all mother ever taught me.” he pauses, “Ever taught us, actually.”
She doesn’t say anything, because he’s right. If there’s one thing Karnsteins are exceptionally good at, that thing is being an asshole.
(Carmilla even thinks she’s mastered it better than Will ever did.)
They’re silent for a moment, because true as her brother’s statement might be, it makes her bitter to realize that they’ve become so jaded that such things like their mother’s awful parenting skills don’t even phase them anymore.
She bites her lip and glances a look at Will. When his eyes meets hers, she lets out a soft sigh, “She’s one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.”
He rolls his eyes and playfully shoves her shoulder, “Dude, you’re so screwed.”
(She shoves him back and tries to ignore how right he probably is.)
//
*Insert Band Name here*
[L. Hollis]
So, do we not have a name or…?
[C. Karnstein]
We seem to find ourselves in an impasse whenever that question comes up.
[LaFontaine]
Tell us about it, Dark Creatures.
[C. Karnstein]
It’s a perfectly acceptable name, not to mention it gives us an edge.
[D. Lawrence]
Yea, xcpt 4 the fact that the only creature of the nite here is u so that’s kinda egocentrical, don’t u think?
[C. Karnstein]
I think that I’m surprised you even know what egocentrical means, Big Foot, let alone how to properly spell it.
[D. Lawrence]
Fuck you, Elvira.
[C. Karnstein]
Oh, in your dreams, Skyscraper.
[LaFontaine]
Here we go again…
[L. Hollis]
Are they always like this?
[D. Lawrence]
Not if u were the last prson in da whole wide universe.
[LaFontaine]
Oh, no, usually just about 88% of the time. They do okay whenever they’re not talking to each other.
[L. Hollis]
I guess that answers my question about our name
[C. Karnstein]
If I was, you’d be begging to touch me.
[LaFontaine]
We’ll get there eventually, don’t worry
//
Danny reaches the shed about one hour before rehearsal and she’s not surprised when she doesn’t find Laura there.
(Laura is a sweetheart and all, but she’s awful at managing her time.)
Besides, Danny figures she can use the time to actually make sense of her thoughts and what she plans to tell Laura, so that there’s no doubt in both of their minds as to where they actually stand.
(It’s a good plan, considering she usually shoves her foot up in her mouth and fucks up everything.)
She sets the small container she picked on her way there on one of the amplifiers and falls down on the couch, pulling a beat up notebook and a pen from her bag. There are jumbled sentences and scratched out words with others written on top of it and Danny has to leaf through a few of them until she finds the page she’s looking for, mostly clean except for a couple of lines written and a few words highlighted at the bottom.
(And doodles, lots of doodles.)
As she begins to write, words flowing from her brain to the tip of her pen, she thinks of Laura and how things changed so much in the span of a year.
The truth is, Laura had fascinated Danny from the moment they met.
She remembers the first time the girl had actively participated in a discussion during class and she could only think of Shakespeare’s ’A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ and Helena’s words about Hermia, echoing in her head whenever she took a look at the small blonde.
“Though she be but little, she is fierce!”
(She didn’t fully grasp the meaning of that until it was too late.)
As she looks back now, Danny realizes that her interest in Laura had been more idealistic than she originally thought. She wanted to be the person that was by her side no matter what, who protected her at all costs and never let her get hurt; she just didn’t know that overprotectiveness was the opposite thing of what Laura wanted. Of what she needed.
But that was everything Danny could be - everything she was, really - and she just couldn’t bring herself to change in order to make Laura more comfortable. And, in truth, it wasn’t fair for her to do that, accommodate to Laura’s expectations just so that she wouldn’t leave her.
If they couldn’t find a way to grow together, then they were better apart.
After one year - a lot of tears, words and broken chords - Danny has finally accepted that.
And now it’s time to let Laura know.
//
She's late.
(It's not surprising, much as she hates to admit this.)
"Hey!" she rushes out as she runs a hand through her hair in a futile attempt to settle it down, "Sorry, sorry! I totally misjudged how long it would take for me to finish reading- er, something."
From her seat on the couch, Danny raises a knowing eyebrow at her, "Fic update?"
"A new one," Laura confesses, cheeks reddening a lightly, "Completed, actually, but over two hundred thousand words long."
Danny shakes her head, laughing - because obviously it’s that long, "That's okay, really," she points to the container resting on the amplifier, "I brought you pie."
Laura grins - she really, really loves pie - and grabs the container before she takes a sit next to Danny, "Share?"
"Duh," Danny says - because is that even a question?
She doesn't even blink before grabbing a fork and taking a piece of the pie - competition at the Summer Society house is insane and if you don’t eat fast, you don’t eat at all - and when the pieces of pecan blended with chocolate hit her tongue and melt in her mouth, she swears she can taste heaven, "This is so good."
It dawns on Laura - as she watches Danny basically orgasm over a piece of chocolate pecan pie - that she can no longer feel the proverbial butterflies wreaking havoc in her stomach, flapping its wings in a way that made impossible for her to breath whenever Danny gave her a smile or let her touch linger for a little while longer than it might be considered appropriate for a friendship.
“It really is,” she smiles over a bite (hers is much smaller than Danny’s), leaning back against the couch.
She wonders when things changed; breaking up with Danny had never been about her feelings towards the other girl, but rather a conflict in what it meant for them to be romantically involved. Maybe they could’ve grown to love each other, if not for the fact that Laura wanted the freedom to commit her mistakes and deal with their consequences and Danny just wanted to keep her from making them at all.
It was sweet, in theory, and other people would be glad to find someone like Danny.
(Laura just wasn’t that person - could never bring herself to be.)
Still, despite all of their differences, she did feel something for Danny. Whether it was romantic or just physical, she isn’t sure, but there was definitely something there. And she realizes now, that despite still wanting the world for Danny, she just can’t see herself in that world as anything more than a friend.
It’s a little heartbreaking, to notice how things change so much in so little time.
“So,” she starts once they’re finished with one slice of pie (there are three, because Danny is nothing if not thoughtful), “What did you want to talk about?”
Danny doesn’t beat around the bush, “Us. Well, how we left things, actually.”
“Oh?” Laura bites her lip, settling her fork down, “Danny, I-”
“No, listen,” Danny interrupts, a smile on her lips and a little smudge of chocolate on her cheeks, which Laura moves to wipe it off before she can think better of it.
“Sorry,” she rushes out, quickly pulling back her hand, “I-”
Danny chuckles, “Laura, it’s cool, really,” she shrugs, “That’s actually kind of what I wanted to talk about.”
“Me... wiping something off your cheek?”
“Not that,” Danny shakes her head, “This whole,” she gestures between them, “tension. Or whatever this is. If we’re gonna be in a band together, seeing each other all the time, we can’t be like this.”
Laura doesn’t know what to say. She knows where she stands, but she can’t make a move until she knows what exactly Danny is thinking and the other girl seems to know that, because she goes on before Laura can say anything.
“I know we left things in a weird place,” she says and Laura can see it in her face how much she regrets that, “but I don’t see why we should be like this when we no longer have feelings towards each other. No offense, you’re hot and all, but I kinda can’t see myself kissing you anymore.”
It’s like a weight has been lifted off Laura’s shoulder, “Oh. Okay. Good. I mean, not good, like- I just- you know. Good?”
Danny laughs and Laura realizes that this is the first time in over a year that she’s seen her do that. And though her heart doesn’t flutter and her cheeks don’t burn, she’s glad to know they can do that around each other again.
“It’s good, Tiny,” she says, and Laura smiles at the old nickname, “So, we don’t want to tear each other’s clothes. Awesome. I’m glad we could settle this. And, you know, I’m sorry again for all the shit that went down last year.”
Laura doesn’t say anything as she finishes the second slice of the pie and opens her arms to Danny, who doesn’t hesitate before bringing her into a hug.
(They’re still careful about the food sitting between them. Pie is too precious to be hurt.)
“I’m glad we could settle this,” Laura whispers into her hair, and Danny can feel the smile on her lips. “Because this would’ve been weird as fuck.”
Danny laughs just as the door opens behind them.
“Am I interrupting something?”
//
She’s a bit early, which is not unusual.
Laura and Danny almost on top of each other on the couch, however, is an entirely different matter.
“Am I interrupting something?” she asks, because, really, she’s an asshole like that.
She expects them to flush bright red and quickly disentangle from each other, but to her surprise, Danny presses a kiss to Laura’s cheek before calmly pulling back, shaking her head at Carmilla.
“Nah, we were just done, actually,” she says, and the way her eyes are glinting with something that Carmilla can’t quite pinpoint makes her want to punch Danny in the face.
(Which is also not unusual.)
Laura picks up something that’s sitting between them and raises it to Carmilla, “Chocolate pecan pie?”
“No, thanks,” she shakes her head and moves to take her guitar off its case, missing the small pout forming on Laura’s lips, “Where’s LaFontaine?”
Danny shrugs, "Probably on their way if Perry hasn't distracted them."
Carmilla rolls her eyes - she has lost count of how many times LaFontaine has missed rehearsal in favor of watching Perry do her homework or clean up her dorm.
(They clearly have their priorities sorted, Carmilla is not gonna try to change them.)
"We could start without them?" Laura suggests and when Carmilla looks at her, the piece of pie has vanished, "I can start picking up a few songs and then when they get here we can just see how the whole thing sounds?"
Danny glances at her - Carmilla is still a bit weirded out at how well they seem to communicate with just a look, seriously - and she nods, picking up her guitar strap and bringing it around her neck.
She twists a few tuning pegs and tries a few notes, before turning to Laura, "We can start with the covers, they'll probably be easier."
Laura has seated herself behind the drums and once again Carmilla is momentarily distracted by how she just seems to belong there.
(And maybe she's also distracted by the way Laura's fingers move so seamlessly as she twists her drumsticks around them.)
(She seems skilled with her fingers.)
She doesn't want to think about this, and if the scene she walked in earlier was any indication, she shouldn't. She might hate Danny 99% of the time (or at least severely dislike her), but she's still her bandmate and there's some kind of unspoken code or something.
Not that Carmilla cares, but whatever.
(She likes being in a band and Danny is a good bassist, she would be hard to replace.)
Something hits her in the nose and she snaps towards Danny, glaring at her, "What the fuck was that, Beanstalk?"
"Laura asked you something, you asshole."
(Well, that explains why Laura is looking at her so intensely.)
"Sorry," she apologizes and it's worth it just to see the way Danny's eyes leap out of their sockets at the sound of the word coming from her lips, "What did you want to know?"
Laura tilts her head and bites her lip and Carmilla tries her best to focus on her words and nothing else, which turns out to be one of the hardest things she's ever had to do in her entire life.
"You said we'd do the covers first?"
Carmilla nods, "Yeah, why?"
"Does that mean you have original songs too?"
She seems slightly surprised and kind of in awe and Carmilla is not usually self-conscious about herself, but at that moment she swears she can feel her cheeks burning and seriously, what is it about this girl?
“Yeah, uh," she runs a hand through her hair and glances a look at Danny and she's surprised to notice the girl doesn't seem to even been paying attention to their conversation, "we do. It's- we'll show it to you once LaF gets here. There are only a few, it's not a big deal."
"When did you become such a humble pie, Karnstein?" LaFontaine asks as they walk into the shed.
Danny snorts and Carmilla glares at them, "Probably around the same time you lost your watch."
(It’s the worst comeback of her life.)
They shrug, "I was dropping Perry at work."
(Of course they were.)
Carmilla notices that Laura is avidly watching their interaction, her eyebrows furrowed in the cutest of ways. It goes without saying that she wants to hit herself in the head for even paying attention to these things.
(What is happening to her?)
"Can we just start this already? I'm starting to develop a migraine."
Her bandmates shrug and she turns on her amplifiers, hitting a green pedal and plucking a chord from her guitar.
She glances at LaFontaine and Danny, before turning to Laura, "Ain't It Fun, E major?"
Laura nods.
"Two, three-"