It didn't take long for Carmilla to realize she was in over her head. It had seemed like a simple thing — agree to go see one of Laura's favourite teams kick a ball around a grass field for an hour and a half, see Laura smile. Then the day arrived and Laura…. was Laura. She really didn't know what she had expected to happen.

Laura crossed her arms over her chest, which Carmilla was definitely not staring at. "That's what you're wearing?"

Carmilla looked down. It had seemed perfectly reasonable in the moments before she'd stepped outside. Jeans, her leather jacket, a flannel shirt for the cold. Looking at Laura, though, she felt like she'd stepped out the door into the wrong world. Laura was covered head to toe in team spirit — a jersey, skintight gold pants, and even smudged red Silas Vampires logos on her cheeks. Forget the beanpole in a bat costume that always showed up at halftime — Laura Hollis would have made a better mascot by far.

Carmilla rolled her eyes. "Why do you even like this sport, cupcake? It's just a bunch of women freezing in gym shorts as they kick each other, and occasionally, a ball."

Laura pointed at her. Her legs glittered in the sun, which made them even harder to ignore than usual. Ever since Laura had taken up yoga, Carmilla's life had become a thousand times more painful. "Exactly! Women. And don't pretend you think it's that simple, Carm. You know it isn't."

Carmilla only knew it wasn't that simple because she was never able to stop Laura once she got off on one of her tangents. It would be too soon if she never had to hear about offsides or handballs again. Then again, it was adorable to watch Laura get so worked up about something as simple as soccer, waving her hands around and eyes sparkling. Laura always glowed when she was talking about something she loved, and at least Carmilla could pretend to understand soccer.

Carmilla knew she was whipped, but Laura didn't seem to have noticed yet.

Laura threw her hands up in the air, and Carmilla noticed with some despair that they, too, were painted team colours. "Don't you have anything appropriate to wear to the game, Carm? Anything?"

"No," Carmilla lied. She had one of Laura's old jerseys in the back of her closet, but Laura would be learning about that over her dead body. "Look, with Toronto traffic like it is, we're gonna be late if we go back to your apartment to pick anything up." One of many reasons to be grateful they weren't roommates anymore. "It's a soccer game, cupcake, not a ball. They aren't checking for proper dress at the door."

Laura sighed at her, but she couldn't keep a smile from creeping across her face. She'd been trying to get Carmilla to go to a game with her ever since they'd been roommates at Silas, and it wasn't until this year that Carmilla had been desperate enough to accept. "Fine, grumpy. But you need-" and before Carmilla could get away, she'd whipped her face paint out of her pocket and stamped a fanged smiley face on her cheek, "-that. There! You look adorable!"

Carmilla grumbled uselessly at Laura, and went to get the car warmed up. Bagheera's engines coughed to life reluctantly, giving Carmilla enough time to check herself out in the mirror. It looked like she'd given herself creepy doll blush. Of course it did.

She didn't even consider wiping it off.

Whipped, Carmilla told herself again, and started the drive.

They got there in just enough time to grab food before the game started. The food was almost worth coming to the game for. Even Carmilla had to admit sports stadiums made the best poutine.

Laura didn't seem to agree. She was practically vibrating with excitement for the game, like a tiny puppy promised its first walk, and Carmilla was delaying on delivering. "Hurry it up!"

Carmilla took her time with the ketchup, making sure every single fry was drenched and ignoring her childhood best friend pouting at her side. "Buttercup, they're not going to start the game without you. You can't have a Silas Vampires match without their biggest fan. That'd be like having a vampire without angst."

"Carm, that doesn't even make sense."

"Sure it does."

The first time the Vampires scored a goal, Carmilla didn't notice. Everyone had started stamping, which was hugely inconvenient. The bleachers rattled underneath Carmilla's feet, and she'd leant over to stop her grape soda from tipping into oblivion. She'd paid five dollars for that — no way in hell was she going to let whatever contagious idiocy was happening ruin it.

Of course, that was when Laura had squealed and started babbling about the fantastic pass the striker had made, a singularly unpleasant Danny Lawrence that Carmilla had had the misfortune of meeting in university. Carmilla had straightened in bewilderment, with all the players abandoning their places to group hug and high five.

"Did you see that? That was amazing!"

"Sure." Carmilla took another sip of her grape soda, so she wouldn't have to look Laura in the eyes. Laura always knew when she was lying. "That… foot action. Kick."

"I know!" And then Laura was off again, her hands waving, her eyes lit up like it was Christmas. Carmilla watched her, safe in knowing Laura was staring at the field with hungry eyes, not willing to miss a second of the experience. The people on the soccer field below didn't look like they'd been doing anything interesting, but who knew with this game. Carmilla was ready to go home and it wasn't even halftime yet.

But to be fair, Carmilla wasn't willing to miss anything of this experience either.

Carmilla had expected Laura to let her go free at halftime to go buy cotton candy or more poutine, but she was wrong. Laura kept an iron grip on Carmilla's hand, practically welding her to her seat. "Where are you going?"

"Nowhere, apparently."

Laura seemed to find this satisfying. She was shivering slightly in the cold wind, and Carmilla resisted the urge to give Laura her jacket. Laura would never accept it — it didn't go with the rest of her Silas Vampires gear. "Good. Because, you know, halftime is the best part of the game."

"Because I don't have to pretend to care about sweaty people running around in circles anymore."

Laura poked her arm. Carmilla resisted the urge to drape her in a jacket again — it felt like she'd been poked by an icicle. "No, Carm, because they always do their best to entertain us. The KissCam should be coming up any moment."

"Oh good, I get to watch more straight people having relationship crises on a big screen. Just what I've always wanted to do with my life." Carmilla focused on her poutine instead. It was a balancing act, trying to get just the right amount of gravy and ketchup while still allowing the fry to taste like a fry. She'd just about got it right when Laura grabbed Carmilla's arm and shook, babbling incoherently.

Carmilla sighed and dropped her once-perfectly-soaked poutine fry back into her paper dish. "What is it now, cupcake? Did-"

Carmilla watched herself realize what was happening live. The KissCam had zoomed in on her and Laura, the gaudy heart circling their faces. If it had been anyone else, Carmilla would have been mildly pleased at the KissCam operator for bucking the trend and going for two girls. Right now, though, she couldn't be anything but panicked. But surely Laura wouldn't-

Laura grabbed Carmilla's arm again and hauled her over, hands cupping her face to plant a kiss solidly on her lips. Carmilla's poutine fell to the pavement, but she barely noticed. The only thing she could see was Laura — her flushed cheeks, the splashes of team paint, the sunlight turning her hair into a cascade of sunlight. And even though Carmilla knew she shouldn't, she kissed Laura back with all the urgency of the five years of suffering from the sidelines. The crowd roared in approval, louder than Carmilla's heart pounding in her ears.

Laura drew back, her cheeks as red as the paint, and sat back in her seat. Carmilla looked up, her hands still braced on the armrest. The KissCam had veered away now focusing on an old man and what was clearly his wife, blushing and kissing him on the cheek.

Carmilla could still feel her lips burning.

Laura had kissed her.

And if that was all she got, then that was fine. At least she knew what Laura's lips felt like, and what it would have been like. She could live with that — a taste. Laura didn't look at her, fussing over Carmilla's dropped fries.

Water, water, everywhere, and not a drop to drink.

The second goal was scored while Carmilla leant over to get a better look at the scoreboard — or really, the timer. How much longer was the torture going to be dragged out? When would the universe have mercy?

Laura jumped to her feet, cheering wildly, and Carmilla swung back around in bewilderment. "They're winning!" Laura screamed, when she caught Carmilla's look of confusion. "Two to one! This is the best day of my life!"

At least it was for one of them. Carmilla wanted to go home and stare at the stars. They wouldn't taunt her, not like Laura, pulling her up for a victory dance as the buzzer went off. Laura's hands were cold in hers, and she was so excited she didn't even notice Carmilla's leather jacket slipping into place over her shoulders.

The sun was beginning to set on the road in front of them by the time Carmilla blurted, "Why did you kiss me?"

Laura blinked at Carmilla, her cheeks colouring in. The streaks of the team colours had been hastily wiped off in the restroom before they left, so she didn't have any excuses left. "The- I mean, did you not want me to? Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, I wouldn't have done it if I knew it would make you uncomfortable, Carm, I just-"

"You were on the kiss cam," Carmilla said dryly. It was easier to pretend her heart wasn't breaking when she couldn't take her eyes off the road. "I get it, creampuff. We all want to have our dreams come true."

Instead of that making it better, Laura just flushed brighter, sinking deeper into Carmilla's jacket. "I don't-"

Carmilla shrugged. "It's fine, Laura. I get it. It doesn't need to make anything awkward."

"Is it awkward?"

The pause was awkward. Carmilla stared determinedly at the road. There was nobody around for kilometres, not that it mattered. Accidents could come out of nowhere — like that KissCam.

It didn't mean anything.

Laura's voice was very, very small. "Did you not want to kiss me?"

Carmilla's heart twisted. How could Laura think that in any way, in any world, that Carmilla wouldn't want to kiss her? Had she ever looked in the mirror? She was a star in her own right, always shining, always reaching her light into the dark places of the undeserving. "It's not that simple, cupcake."

Laura scoffed, but at least the faint hurt in her tone was gone. "How is that not a simple question? Do you-" and it was very distracting, being forcefully pointed at while driving, "-want to kiss me?"

Carmilla licked her lips, fixed her gaze on the pinkening clouds, and said, "Well, it wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to me today."

Laura didn't even hesitate. "Pull over."

"What?"

Laura pointed to the side of the road. It was picturesque, like lots of Canada was, full of wildness and probably poison ivy. "Pull over! Now!"

"Why?" Carmilla said, but pulled over anyway. She'd barely put the car in park before Laura was clambering over the gearshift, slipping and sliding and nearly face planting into the window. "What are you doing, cutie?"

Laura had planted herself on Carmilla's lap, squeezed tight up against her with the steering wheel pressed against her back. She was short enough she didn't need to duck under the car's roof, but her head was ducked down anyway, her lips parted. Chest to chest. For how far Carmilla had felt from Laura this past year, it may has well have been sex.

"Do you want to kiss me? Because I shouldn't have jumped you at the KissCam but you're just so come hither with those stupid sexy eyes and I didn't think that you cared but I mean you never say you care about anything except maybe me and," Laura stopped for a breath, the air warm between them. "So I mean? If you wanted to kiss me? For real. This could be your chance. Or I could just-"

"Yes," Carmilla said, and then they were kissing again. There were no cameras, no crowds watching but the stars, twinkling out from the edges of the rolling orange sunset. Laura gasped between the pressing of their lips, not willing to let go for a full breath. Carmilla clutched her tighter, leaning into Laura with everything she had.

The horn went off, and Laura jumped back, which only made it honk again, like they'd offended their very own personal Canadian goose.

"Sorry," Laura said, breathless. Carmilla felt some sort of proud that it was her that had made stolen the air from Laura's lungs, that it was her who was finally allowed to have a giggling Laura on her lap painted in sunset colours. Laura's team had won, but Carmilla was the one who had really scored.