Chapter Text
"What'll it be today, cupcake?" Laura looks up to see her regular waitress practically waltzing towards her booth. She's in uniform, as always, but her bangs are still shading her eyes despite the visor she has to wear that's supposed to prevent that from occurring. Her name tag is askew, but Mircalla is still readable. Laura notices she doesn't even bother to pull out her little notepad and instead tucks her pen into the pocket of her apron, one arm propped against Laura's table, supporting her weight as she leans against it.
Man, she's had the biggest crush on this girl since she first saw her all the way back to last semester.
"Mircalla, huh?"
Carmilla rolls her eyes and straightens her name tag. Laura noticed a long time ago that Carmilla does not, under any circumstances, smile. Nor does her face shift very much away from her rigid expression. Eye rolls and little smirks are a commodity in Laura's world.
"Beefcake who types these up is no Akeelah and the Bee." She says by way of explanation. "Hot chocolate and brownies again, cutie? I can't imagine the amount of sugar in your blood right now."
"LaF's brownies are amazing." Laura replies with a sheepish grin. "And the cocoa always helps me get through the homework from the Philosophy class I have to take."
Carmilla raises an eyebrow.
"I majored in Philosophy." She says.
"Tell me all about it." Laura pleads only half jokingly. She's always assumed Carmilla had gotten herself a Science or Math degree and is surprised by the revelation that counters her presumptions. Instead of sitting herself down across the table to speak to Laura, however, Carmilla steps away and starts heading back to the counter.
"Order will be right up, creampuff."
A week later, Laura is back at the diner again. She doesn't particularly like Dean's, but does enjoy the quiet it provides on nights when she needs a never ending supply of cocoa and a comfortable seat.
She doesn't mind the dark haired waitress in charge of her favorite booth either.
"Back again are we?" Carmilla sounds like she is in the process of taking a drag from a cigarette. Her voice is raspy and kind of gravelly and all Laura can think is holy shit she's hot.
"Study calls."
"And you prefer to be exposed to the toxic wasteland that is this diner rather than study at home because why, exactly?"
"My roommate is kind of high maintenance...?" Laura trails off, wincing under Carmilla's scrutiny.
"Sock on the door kind of night?" Laura nods. Betty is great and super friendly and follows the chore wheel, but there's only so many socks on the doorknob nights a girl can take.
"Yeah." She says, offering the waitress a small smile.
"I'll go get your order."
Laura watches her go, trying not be affected by the slight sway of her hips, and fails miserably.
Laura walks into Dean's on Saturday night to find a plate of brownies next to a steaming cup of hot cocoa on her usual table. The place is dead. There was one man sat at the counter, digging into a bowl of pasta, but other than that, just Laura.
Oh and Carmilla, who is sitting behind the counter, a mug in front of her, reading.
When Laura doesn't immediately sit down, Carmilla raises an eyebrow.
"We're you planning on changing it up today, cupcake?" Laura looks from the food on the table to Carmilla and back again.
"How did you know?"
"Saturday night, I figured Paris Hilton was going to be having more fun than the both of us combined." It takes Laura only a second to realize she's talking about Betty.
"Well, I know you did it mostly for business, but thank you."
Carmilla takes a sip of whatever she's drinking and rolls her eyes.
"Dig in, creampuff."
Laura prepares to drag herself home after spending the night at Dean's, again, and just as she's packing up, Carmilla walks by, out of uniform and instead wearing leather pants holy shit.
"Goodnight, creampuff." She says gruffly when she catches Laura staring.
Laura waits until she's out the door before letting her head hit the table.
Worst. Crush. Ever.
"You've been eating too many of my brownies from work, man." LaFontaine chuckles when Laura complains of lack of sleep.
"They're too good." Laura mutters back. "And it's not my fault Betty keeps bringing back neanderthals to our room on almost a nightly basis. I don't really have a choice."
"Well for starters, you can go somewhere other than Dean's. There's a 24-hour vegan place down the block."
"I'm comfortable."
"Are you seriously still crushing on Carmilla?"
"What? I'm - I'm not - " she trails off on a laugh. LaFontaine grins mischievously.
"You know she's still hung up about that girl who died a few years ago, right?"
Laura grimaces.
"Hey I'm just looking out for you. She doesn't exactly have the best reputation."
Carmilla is lounging in her booth when Laura arrives on a Friday night. She's got a book propped up against her forearm, her wrist bent inwards, fingers gripping the tops of the book. Laura sits down across from her.
The place is, as usual, deserted save for the two of them. Carmilla has even turned off the television in one corner, at which Laura has caught her shooting glares every now and then.
"Hey." She says, watching Carmilla's eyelashes flutter as the waitress looks up from her book.
"Hey." Carmilla replies. She gestures to the plate of brownies in the middle of the table and the cocoa, both of which, truthfully, Laura has not even noticed.
"Thanks." Laura says. Carmilla just gives a small nod. Laura takes Carmilla's continued reading as a cue to take out her own books. They both work in comfortable silence. In fact, Laura finds herself relaxing at the sound of Carmilla turning pages and occasionally sipping from her own mug. It's easier, in the quiet, to get her work done.
She is outlining the third paragraph of her Philosophy paper when a loud crash startles her out of her concentrated state.
"What was that?" She asks, instinctively getting up to take a peek out the door. Carmilla, impossibly, beats her there and shoves her away when she tries to turn the doorknob.
"Hey!" She protests. "I wanna know what's going on, too!"
"Get back in the booth, cupcake." Her usual drawl, which normally sends Laura's heartbeat into overdrive, makes her seethe in this moment.
"My name is Laura!"
"I know." Carmilla says simply. "Now go sit back down."
Laura backs away a step as Carmilla begins to barricade the door quickly. She supposes the adrenaline is taking over the waitress's limbs because she moves almost inhumanly fast, piling chairs up against one another.
"What are you doing?" Laura asks when Carmilla grabs her sleeve and starts practically dragging her back to the booth.
"Sit down, okay?" Carmilla looks exasperated. "I'll take care of this."
As soon as Carmilla leaves to go stand guard near the door, or whatever she's doing, Laura scrambles up on her knees and turns to watch what's going on.
"Open up, kitty!" A man says from outside the door. "Mother won't be happy if she's told that you're keeping me out."
"I'm not keeping you out, per se." Carmilla still seems calm, her tone unchanging. "More like preventing wolves from breaching our territory with just reason."
"Let me in."
"Bite me." There's another flurry of loud noises and then Carmilla is standing in front of Laura.
"There's - We're badly outnumbered here." Carmilla says, running a hand through her hair. "You need to hide under the table and be quiet."
"Outnumbered by what?"
"Werewolves."
"What? Why?"
"They don't like my family. We don't like them. Now please get under the table."
"I'm not going anywhere until I know what's going on." Laura decides, crossing her arms. Carmilla's look of pure exasperation slides back into place.
"Now is not the time for a history lesson, cutie." Carmilla gestures as if encouraging Laura to follow her instructions. When the blonde doesn't move, she sighs. "Fine. Fine." She nods almost to herself. "I need you to get under the table please, Laura, and then I'll give you a history lesson."
Laura crawls under the table.