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Lizzie couldn't be more bored than she was right now. Waiting on Hope Mikaelson was getting to be quite tiring. First, she had to wait to kill her. Which totally backfired, ending with her death instead. Second, her transition had been completely in Hope's hands. Whether she became a vampire or not, get access to blood, or not. The waiting to know if Hope was really that far gone, was really lost to her, was more torture than needing blood and not getting it. Did Hope regret killing her in the first place? Would Hope do it for a second time, and let her die again? Would Hope use what Lizzie did as a precaution to save her? It was scary, waiting for her to be the Hope Lizzie once knew. The one who wouldn't hurt her, not on purpose. The Hope that would save her.
And after all that, the wait for Hope to come back to her, figuratively and, well, now, quite literally, was the longest time spent yet. When she had let Lizzie feed, choosing life for her instead of death, Lizzie had thought maybe she was close to getting to that damn humanity switch. But now, it had been two weeks, and still nothing.
Hope had left her sometime early this morning, the sun not even out yet. Lizzie lay in the bed they shared, in the fancy hotel room Hope had compelled for them and pretended to be sleeping. They both knew she wasn't. But not talking was easy for them, and Hope didn't press, didn't care to know why Lizzie wasn't asking questions.
Lizzie wasn't sure why she wasn't, anyway.
Everything was different now that she was a vampire. The dynamic between her and Hope changed drastically, and she didn't know if it was because she was different, or because Hope was. Maybe it was both of them. The air between them was thick with tension, no matter what they were doing. If they were talking, or if they weren't. If they were touching, or if they weren't. If they were kissing, or if they weren't. Lizzie thought maybe Hope being free of worry, free of the chains of emotion that kept her tied down and miserable, made her see Lizzie in a new way. And maybe, Lizzie being free of, well, life, she was seeing Hope in a new way, too. She knew she was just kidding herself, though. Maybe now was different because they had no tie to their old lives, and maybe it had them acting different, feeling different, doing things with one another they hadn't before, but it was always there. Wanting Hope. Wanting to touch Hope, to kiss her-
Maybe the things that were holding them back before just aren't anymore.
But it was always there. She could lie to herself and pretend this was all brand new, but vampirism only made it easier to act on. Easier for her to have something to blame. As long as she didn't have to admit it, she could ignore it. The fact that everything she felt for Hope now, was something that she felt before. The underlying feelings for Hope she had lay well hidden behind a brick wall inside of her, covered with anger and insults. Covered by fights with ugly words. It was easier to push down, further and further, when she could pretend she hated her. But then they became friends, real friends, something she'd desperately wanted since she was young. She finally got to be a person Hope talked to, a person Hope went to when she needed help. A person who watched dumb movies with her, a person she shared secrets with, a person she told things to she wouldn't admit to anyone else. A person who would climb into her bed with bowls of ice cream, nights full of things they wouldn't admit to in the morning. She became a person she thought Hope loved.
It was quite an awful awakening to be one that she killed.
Lizzie keeps thinking back to that night. She tried not to, the trauma of the situation was definitely not something she wanted to face over and over again. But she couldn't help but think of what she said, what she did to try to keep herself safe. To the "I love you" spoken through tears, a moment of cold truth she believed would save her life. To a truth she never would have admitted, if she didn't think loving Hope may be the answer to not being hurt by her.
Instead, she was used as a pawn in one of Hope's games, to prove the words she spoke to her wrong.
Lizzie didn't believe she would kill someone she cared about, so she did.
They didn't talk about it.
They don't talk late at night, laying side by side, their hands an inch away from touching. They don't talk when Lizzie falls asleep and wakes up cuddled against Hope, the other girl wide awake and silent. They don't talk about Hope, tracing patterns on Lizzie's back, trying to soothe away the nightmares she has of dying. Of Hope walking up to her, hands on her neck. Of waking up on the cold ground, her life changed forever. They don't talk about if Hope regrets it, or if she doesn't. If Lizzie regrets what she said, or doesn't. It's an understood silence. Questions have answers and answers hurt. Hope didn't want to feel anything, so she didn't ask. Lizzie didn't want to talk to this Hope about it, the one who didn't care. The one that would hurt her to keep her far from her heart.
Lizzie listens to the chaos of the morning around her. There are workers hustling around, doing their job. Other couples going to breakfast offered by the hotel. People arguing with the lady at the front desk, trying to get cheaper prices. She doesn't care about any of this, is only waiting for Hope to come back to her.
An hour passes before she hears someone approach the door, and she sits up as it swings open.
Hope.
She doesn't acknowledge Lizzie when she comes in, only walks to the desk in the room and sets down the bag in her hands. Lizzie raises an eyebrow, wondering what it was she bought.
"I'm going to dye my hair," Hope announces, turning to face Lizzie on the bed.
Lizzie rubs her eyes, still tired. Not quite ready to navigate which Hope she was getting today. "Why?"
Hope slides her leather jacket off her shoulders. "I need a change."
"Oh, really? You haven't had enough of that lately?"
Hope doesn't take the bait. It annoys Lizzie when she ignores her poking. "I think black is more fitting for my current mood."
Lizzie sighs and crawls out of bed, walking past Hope to grab the bag on the desk. "The amount of jokes I could make right now makes me sad, considering they're being wasted on you and your current mood."
Hope watches her, tracks her every movement. "What are you doing?"
"I'm dying your hair." Hope tries to grab the bag, but Lizzie holds it high above her head, smiling down at her. "Hope, please. We both know you'd do a botched job."
Hope gives up and crosses her arms instead. "I'm literally an artist, Lizzie."
"And? That means nothing to hair." Lizzie pushes past her to the bathroom, and she smiles to herself when Hope follows her.
“It’s not a fucking science. You mix the dye and put it on your hair. I don't see much room for error."
Lizzie flips on the light and starts pulling the supplies out of the bag. “That’s why you’re going to do an atrocious job. You may be a vampire-“
“Tribrid.”
“Tribrid,” Lizzie mocks her, rolling her eyes while she says it. “But you don’t have x-ray vision. And unless you can see the back of your own head, how exactly did you plan on doing that?”
“There was no plan!”
It was fun for Lizzie to hear that the person who doesn't take a single step without a plan had none, even if it was about something as silly as hair.
“God, you’re so lucky I’m here. You would have come out of this mess with, well, an even bigger mess.” She frowns at her choice of words, then shrugs her shoulders. “Anyway, come, sit.” She reaches out for Hope and directs her to the toilet. Hope doesn't argue and sits where Lizzie places her.
Lizzie searches her brain to try and find something normal to say, and it's hard, considering there are many things between them they don't talk about. “My dad doesn’t know this, but I used to steal his phone and like, watch videos on YouTube of people coloring their hair. I was like, totally going through a phase and thought brown would be a good idea.”
Hope sits still, face blank. Lizzie opens the box of hair dye and starts following the directions. “Obviously I never did it, thank God. Although thinking about it now, I would so rock brunette."
Lizzie isn’t expecting a response and stills when she hears Hope speak. “I'm glad you didn’t. Your hair reminds me of the sun."
Lizzie doesn’t move. She doesn’t breathe. Just stares at the items in her hands and tries not to act as surprised as she is.
“I like seeing it first thing in the morning. Something so bright after a night of darkness.”
Lizzie doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t want Hope to see how her words make her feel. Doesn’t want to give her something to fight with when she decides she’s not in the mood.
She turns to look at Hope and is disappointed by what she sees. Hope looks bored, like her saying that didn’t mean anything. Shouldn’t be touching Lizzie the way that it did. It's what hurt the most. Having Hope speak so robotically about things that, normally, she would surrender her emotions to.
Lizzie puts on a fake smile and continues to mix the dye. “Well, lucky for you, I don’t change my hair to fit my mood.”
Hope doesn't respond, and they both go quiet. Lizzie puts the bottle of dye on the counter and looks through the bag of what Hope bought. The only thing left in it was gloves. “You didn’t think to grab Vaseline?”
Hopes eyebrows scrunch together. “And why would I do that?”
“Because, dumbass, black hair dye stains the skin.” Lizzie is talking while she moves out of the bathroom and to her packed bags. They hadn’t been here long, moving around a lot as Hope figures out what to do about Aurora, so the stuff she collected on their way was still in suitcases. It takes her a minute to find what she’s looking for, but finally, lost underneath clothing, she grabs the small tube.
“Again, lucky for you I was a well-prepared human before you, like, killed me.” She makes her way back to the bathroom and Hope looks at her, confused to see what was in her hands.
“Chapstick?”
“For baby smooth lips. It’s pretty much just Vaseline.” She opens the tube and walks up to Hope, fitting herself between her legs, as close to her as she can get. Hope looks up at her, eyes wide and waiting.
Lizzie squeezes product out onto her finger, and with her other hand, places a finger under Hope's chin to help direct her face to where she needs it.
She starts with placing it on Hope's forehead, and follows the skin closest to her hair as best she can. Hope closes her eyes, enjoying the touch, and Lizzie is glad to not have her watching anymore.
She hated being this close to Hope. Except that she didn't. She just wished it was her Hope, instead of the one without the emotions that made her her. She'd much rather have these moments with the Hope she knew before, hating to share something special with the version of herself that hid the best parts away.
It made her wonder if any of this was real. If the touches, the kisses, everything, was only because Hope was free to do what she really wanted without fear. Without doubt or pain. If somehow, she was something Hope kept locked in a box, and this one didn't care to keep it shut.
“You’re thinking too much.”
Lizzie smiles at that. Because when didn’t she? She hadn't even noticed Hope had her eyes open, watching her again. “Yeah, well, one of us has to.”
“Trust me, my ability to think has never been better than right now.”
Lizzie, again, stills. She always finds a double meaning to her words, and she can’t decide if she’s making it up or if Hope wants her to hear them.
Lizzie puts the lid back on the tube, and when she tries to straighten, to get out of leaning over Hope that close, she’s stopped by Hope reaching out and grabbing the back of her neck.
“I thought we were done pretending you don’t want to kiss me?”
Oh, so they were talking about it.
Lizzie thinks back to the first time Hope kissed her.
Lizzie is laying in bed. It's a different hotel room, but Hope only ever asked for one bed, so she was waiting for Hope to join her. Hope is silent in getting ready for bed, and Lizzie watches her, a million things on her mind. It had only been a few days since she had transitioned, and she was still getting used to what it felt like to be a vampire.
What it was like to be around Hope, what it was like to feel for her, as a vampire. Hope undresses, like the nights before, and sleeps only in a big shirt that hangs off one of her shoulders.
Lizzie, still navigating their new relationship as a tribrid with no humanity and a heretic who had no idea what she was fucking doing, slept in a tank top she stole from Hope that didn’t quite fit her frame, cut off in the middle of her stomach, and a pair of sweats she brought from before she died.
Hope climbs into bed next to her, closer than normal, and turns on her side to look at Lizzie. “I know you’re watching me.”
A lump forms in the back of Lizzie's throat. They didn’t talk about anything lately. Not about Hope killing her, not about Lizzie saying I love you, and definitely not about Lizzie watching her.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Lizzie is on her back, which makes it easier to avoid her gaze and stare up at the ceiling.
She can feel Hopes laugh shake the bed. “I could always feel you stare, Lizzie.” She reaches out and runs a finger up and down Lizzie's arm. “When we would fight and you thought I didn’t notice you staring at my lips. The way you would steal a glance when you thought I wasn’t looking.”
Lizzie swallows, trying to get rid of the tightness there. “You stared too.” It was meant to be accusatory, but it comes out only a whisper.
“I did, didn’t I? I guess I always wanted to kiss you, too.”
Lizzie's head turns fast, her eyes meeting Hopes. She didn’t understand. Was she playing a game? This Hope could be cruel, and she couldn’t trust that this was the truth.
“You’re lying.”
Hope shrugs against the bed, something playful. “Am I, though?” She moves closer to Lizzie, and props herself up against her elbow. She leans down to whisper in Lizzie's ear, “Am I lying, Lizzie?” Her breath is hot against Lizzie's cold skin, and it feels like nothing she’s ever experienced before.
Hope laughs again, must be able to see the pain on Lizzies face from trying not to react. She reaches her other arm out and uses a finger to turn Lizzie's face, to make her see Hope while she does this to her.
“Look at me.” Her hold is strong, and Lizzie can't look away even if she wanted to. "Can I kiss you, Elizabeth?"
Lizzie stares at Hope. Looks for any taste of dishonesty in her face. Does she want her to say yes? If she does, would she do it? Is she playing with her? Waiting for Lizzie to say yes, just to turn her down?
“Yes.” It’s not even out of her mouth for a second before Hope leans down and places her lips on Lizzies, and it’s completely different from how she thought kissing Hope would be.
The kiss is light as a feather, something soft and warm and full of something like home. Hope is kissing Lizzie like she’s scared of breaking her again. Lizzie knew she wasn’t scared, though, because Hope couldn’t feel anything. Was choosing not to feel anything.
It moves fast, this thing between them. One second it’s slow and soft, and the next they’re moving to get as close to one another as possible. Mouths are chasing mouths, lips are biting lips. Hope climbs on top of Lizzie and the blonde is running her hands over every bit of Hope she can reach.
It’s hot and full of things they won’t say, and years of feelings they won’t admit, and then it’s over. Hope is pushing Lizzie away, and the look on her face is that of someone who might just be scared.
They go to bed that night as far away from one another as they can, and when they wake up and Lizzie is cuddling up next to Hope, they don’t talk about it.
Hope tightens her grip on the back of Lizzie's neck, and if she were still human, it would have hurt. Instead, it brings her back to the present. To the reality of Hope touching her now. She leans down, her forehead on Hopes, not caring to get Vaseline everywhere.
“I should hate you.” It was something Lizzie has waited to say for weeks now. Because she should. She should hate Hope for what she's done. For killing her dad, and then killing her. For being the person Lizzie thought she wasn't. For being someone that would intentionally hurt her.
Hopes face stays blank. “You really should.”
It’s not the answer Lizzie wants to hear. She guesses this is why they didn’t talk; to avoid the pain of hearing something they don’t want to. Lizzie tries to get out of Hope's grip, and Hope lets her go.
She moves back to the counter and puts the chapstick down.
Hope groans out. “Boring! No need to get all moody.”
“Then stop trying to kiss me!”
“Sorry. It’s not my fault you look like this in the morning.”
Lizzie turns around, annoyed that Hope was trying to blame her for this. “What do you mean?”
Hope stands up, walking up to Lizzie, pushing her back hard against the counter. “Beautiful, Elizabeth. You look beautiful.”
Lizzie almost smiles. Now she knows Hope is lying. Her face is bare, having no chance for her to do her makeup yet. Her hair is wild around her face, most of it has fallen out of the bun still tied in the back of her head from sleeping in it.
“We’re never going to get your hair done if you keep saying stuff like that.”
Hope places her palms against the exposed skin where Lizzie's shirt doesn’t quite reach, and snakes her hands around her back, pulling her close. “So? We can do it later.”
“Is this our new normal now? You trying to kiss me every two seconds?"
Hope smiles big, a kind of crazy look on her face. “It should be.” Hope slides her hands lower, the smile on her face just the same. “Look, Lizzie. I’m trying to be real sweet, but you’re not getting it. Either I can push you up against the counter and make you forget all the reasons you think this is a bad idea, or we can forget about it and do my hair for the next hour, or whatever. Your choice."
And, well, Lizzie wasn’t known to make the best choices as of late, was she?
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It took them over two hours to get to Hope's hair. Lizzie would try, and try again, but Hope had a way with words, and a way with, well, everything, and honestly, Lizzie never claimed to have the best self-restraint.
Especially when it came to Hope.
+
“So, because I did your hair and everything, you owe me a favor, right?”
Hope is sitting next to Lizzie in bed, hair dripping wet from the shower she took. A wicked smile crosses her face. “I’m pretty sure I repaid my debt earlier, did I not?”
Lizzie's eyes widen. “Not like that! Jesus, Hope.”
“What else could you want?”
“There was a couple talking earlier this morning. There’s a carnival in town.”
“And?”
“And, I want to go.”
“Then go.”
“I want us to go.”
“You want me to take you to the carnival?”
“Yes.”
“Fine, I’ll take you to the fucking carnival, then.”