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Hope drums her fingers on the table and clenches her free hand into a fist.
She’s in the library. It’s empty, but she knew it would be. That’s part of the reason why she came there in the first place.
She wants to be alone.
Scratch that—it’s just best for her to be alone. Otherwise, some innocent bystander might get hurt.
Because Hope's angry.
She’s been angry for days. She’s sort of feeling a whole cocktail of emotions, actually, but anger is the one she pays the most attention to.
It’s familiar.
Her other feelings are more scary—more unhinged—so she ignores them. Part of her is restless, desperate to get up and go anywhere else. A bigger part of her is paralyzed, terrified to move.
Feeling has never been her greatest skill. Everything about it is rushed and jagged for her—she always flounders like a child trying to use a pen for the first time.
Most of her feelings aren’t pleasant, especially not at the moment. She’s sort of running from them. She’s so caught up in running from them, in fact, that she doesn’t even hear it when the door opens.
Josie slides into the chair across from Hope with all the grace of someone who’s used to being invisible. She reaches out to place a mug on the desk between them without hesitating. “Here,” she says simply, her tone unreadable.
Hope glances up at her but doesn’t move a muscle, her knuckles turning white from the grip she has on the desk. She looks down at the mug, her eyes critical. “What is this?” she asks.
“Hot cocoa,” Josie answers.
Hope huffs out a sigh, her mouth an unyielding straight line. When she looks up at Josie again, her expression’s cold as ice. “Why are you giving me hot cocoa?” she demands.
Josie shrugs, giving Hope an uncertain once-over, as though she isn't sure whether or not Hope is hostile. “It’s a peace offering,” she replies.
Hope’s jaw ticks and her eyes darken. It suddenly becomes way more obvious that she’s seething internally. “And what if I don’t want peace?” she challenges.
Josie doesn’t reply for a moment.
She’s a bit taken off guard, honestly, but she doesn’t let it show. She’d expected Hope to be more reasonable this time around, but apparently the tribrid’s still holding a grudge.
Josie thinks for a moment, but in the end her response is impulsive anyway. “Hope, you’re being ridiculous,” she retorts, desperately trying to dodge an argument.
Hope scoffs instantly. She sends Josie a smoldering glare, but it only lasts for a few seconds before she's standing up. She starts to shove her things into her bag and turns to leave.
Josie stands, too. She’s even further taken aback by the fact that Hope is storming away from her, but she recovers quickly and follows Hope with an angry scowl. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” she calls out.
Hope doesn’t stop walking, even though there’s fire in Josie’s voice—danger. “My room,” she says coldly without turning around. “Doesn’t seem like I’ll be getting any more work done if I stay here.”
Josie doesn’t allow Hope to get away. She swerves into her path, forcing her to stop in her tracks. “Oh, yeah?” Josie snaps, reflecting Hope’s glare. She gestures to the room—every chair is empty. “There’s a reason no one’s here. What kind of work do you have to do at midnight on Christmas Eve?”
Hope gives the empty library an appraising glance herself while she contemplates her response. When she looks back at Josie again, her eyes are narrowed. “You’re right,” she says slowly, her voice laced with an unspoken threat. “I don’t have work to do. I only came here to avoid you.”
And everyone else, Hope thinks, but she leaves that part out.
Josie scowls, her eyes darkening. Hope is trying to wind her up, and she knows it—but she can’t help it. She’s struggling to maintain control. Hope knows exactly which buttons to push, and Josie can hardly ever resist giving her what she wants.
Hope tries to step around Josie to get to the door, but Josie once again blocks her way, taking a threatening step closer that forces Hope to take a step back.
“Well, then,” Josie hisses through her teeth, her eyes smoldering. “You shouldn’t have told Lizzie where you were going.”
Hope ignores the shiver that runs down her spine. Josie has somehow managed to corner her so that she’s pressed up against a bookshelf. She gives Josie a tense, sarcastic smile to cover up her uncertainty. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” she drawls.
Hope looks like she’s about to try to leave again, but Josie has had enough. She surges forward and pins Hope to the bookshelf by the shoulders. “There won’t be a next time,” she states matter-of-factly, her voice authoritative. “We’re working this out now.”
Hope is forced to look at her, since their position brings them face-to-face.
For a moment, she’s stunned into silence, trying to process the fact that Josie has had the nerve to touch her.
Hope recovers quickly and schools her face back into apathy, even though she’s feeling anything but apathetic. “Oh, yeah?” she replies. Her voice wavers slightly because of their proximity, but she ignores it. “Or what?”
Josie’s eyes darken. She shakes her head in disbelief and lets out a dark chuckle. The silence hanging between them is dangerous, and, for a moment, Hope questions her decision to argue.
Hope knows that she could most likely win in a fight if it came down to it, but she still doesn’t want to ever find herself on Josie’s bad side.
Hope has to remind herself why she’s mad before she can get her expression under control again. She’s nervous, under it all, but she has a skill for hiding it and hopes it goes unnoticed.
Their stare-off is interrupted suddenly and unpleasantly when a deafening alarm sounds from the intercom. Hope lets out an embarrassing squeak, and Josie takes a rapid step back to cover her ears.
Hope flinches and covers her ears more desperately in comparison, whimpering like she’s being tortured.
Josie frowns.
Two-thirds of the student population have super-hearing, for fuck’s sake.
The alarm is loud as hell and Josie is already thinking about scolding her Dad for it when it cuts off and his voice sounds over the intercom. “Attention everyone,” he says awkwardly, clearing his throat. “Whatever you do, don’t panic.”
Hope drops her hands from her ears and rolls her eyes. For someone who had just been desperate to escape the conversation by any means necessary, she doesn’t look thrilled about Alaric interrupting it at all.
“There is a monster on campus,” Alaric continues, clearly unskilled at impromptu announcements. “We have reason to believe that it is nocturnal but attracted to light. Lock your door and turn off the lights until sunrise. We’ll have an assembly in the morning to discuss a course of action.”
The intercom cuts off abruptly, leaving Hope and Josie in an awkward silence, their argument shattered.
Hope only tolerates the silence for a brief pause before she once again tries to move toward the door.
Josie charges after her before she can get there. “Hope, where the hell do you think you’re going?” she demands.
“To talk to your Dad,” Hope mutters, not slowing down.
Josie grabs Hope’s wrist and tugs her to a halt, unamused. “You’re not going out there,” she states firmly.
Hope scowls. “Excuse me?”
“You heard him,” Josie continues. “He said ‘lock the doors and turn off the lights’, not ‘Hope Mikaelson, please come down to my office.’”
Hope scoffs, as though that statement’s absurd or even offensive to her. “I don’t need your father’s permission, Josie,” she snaps defiantly, pulling her wrist out of Josie’s grasp.
Hope almost makes it out the door, but Josie reacts quickly. She places a hand on a desk and chants out a spell before Hope can slip away.
Hope halts in her tracks immediately, recognizing the spell by the incantation alone.
“Josie,” Hope growls through her teeth without turning around, her shoulders tense. “Take the boundary down.”
Josie doesn’t relent, only crooking an eyebrow. “Be as mad as you want,” she replies, her voice sounding almost bored—infuriatingly so, for Hope. “I won’t let you get yourself hurt.”
Hope chuckles darkly, seething to the point where it’s visible. She turns and takes a few steps closer, her eyes narrowed. “You really need to get over this protecting the most powerful being in the world phase of yours,” she hisses, her eyes flickering a warning gold.
Josie glares right back at her, unaffected. “Protecting you isn’t a phase,” she retorts. “No one’s invulnerable. We don’t even know what’s out there! I won’t let you be so reckless, Hope.”
Hope lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Oh, you’re gonna talk to me about being reckless now, are you?”
The words come out with such force that they stun Josie into silence. It’s obvious that they’ve been bouncing around in Hope’s head for a while now, waiting for an opportunity to be said.
When Josie fails to respond, Hope scoffs out a dark laugh again, shaking her head. “I know what you’re doing, Josie,” she says, so much energy packed into her voice that it’s fraying at the edges. “You wanted to trap me into a conversation and now you’re using this situation as an excuse to do it.”
Josie scoffs, recoiling. “Trap you?” she spits.
The venom in Josie’s voice gives Hope pause. Hope finds herself already regretting what she’d said, but not enough to take it back.
The emotions are overwhelming her—the rage radiating off of Josie is way too much combined with her own.
“Leave me alone,” Hope mutters weakly. She turns around and storms behind a row of bookshelves.
Josie isn’t willing to let her go so easily. She follows, furious. “Oh, you want me to leave you alone?” she snaps. “Fine! I can’t force you to communicate with me.”
Suddenly, it occurs to Hope that Josie’s voice sounds unfairly attractive when she’s all wound up like this. Hope immediately banishes the thought from her mind with a shake of her head, scolding herself for having it in the first place.
When Josie speaks up again, her voice is closer and quieter, almost sounding like a threat. “But if you want me to apologize?” she begins. “You’d better convince me to. From where I’m standing, it still seems like I did the right thing.”
Hope whips around and replies instantly, almost as if Josie’s question was a long-awaited cue for a reply she’d already rehearsed. “You were irresponsible,” she snaps, her voice harsh but carefully controlled. She steps closer. “And reckless. You put yourself in danger—for what?”
Josie doesn’t reply. She doesn’t know how to. She wasn't as prepared for the conversation as Hope was, apparently. She just waits for Hope to continue, her chin held high and her eyes defiant.
Hope’s nostrils flare. She steps even closer, so that there’s barely any space between them. “For me, Josie?” she whispers sharply, like she can’t even wrap her mind around it.
Josie is close enough to see some indecipherable emotion flicker through Hope’s eyes. The vulnerability takes Josie off guard. Her own glare falters.
“Why would you do that?” Hope continues, exasperated.
Josie licks her lips, avoiding eye contact. “Because I care about you,” she says seriously, like she’s trying to make Hope understand.
Hope seems to not know how to react to that. She ultimately decides to continue being angry, although her expression falters like she isn’t so sure of herself anymore. Her jaw ticks and she glances away, staring at a random book. “More than you care about yourself?” she asks.
Josie doesn’t hesitate for a second. “Yes,” she replies simply, completely certain.
The word rings out loudly in the silence, echoing through the empty library. Hope takes a deep, labored breath and continues to avoid eye contact.
Josie lets out a shaky sigh, running a hand through her hair and shifting on her feet. “Obviously,” she mutters under her breath.
Hope shakes her head, still unable to meet Josie’s eye. She looks more panicked than angry, now—for a moment, her hands even tremble. She wrings them together to cover it up. “That needs to change,” she huffs out under her breath, almost as if she’s talking to herself.
Josie just stares at her, her brow furrowed with confusion. She clears her throat, trying to decide how to respond. “Listen, Hope," she starts, crossing her arms over her chest. "I’m not going to stop caring about you, if that’s what you want.”
Hope licks her lips and stares at Josie again. “You should,” she states.
Josie immediately scoffs, her mouth dropping open. She’s offended, against her better judgement—she’s pissed, actually. She knows that this isn’t about Hope not wanting her affection, but it still feels an awful lot like rejection.
Hope’s stare falters. She can feel the rage rolling off of Josie in waves.
Josie’s eyes darken and go stone cold. The corner of her lip quirks upward, but it's a threat more than anything else.
It reminds Hope of Dark Josie.
Josie takes a step closer and Hope instinctively steps away, her back pressing up against the bookshelf behind her.
Josie gives her a predatory smirk. “Looks like we’re at an impasse, then,” she whispers, something dangerous in her voice. “Because I’ll never stop caring about you. That’s not an option.”
Hope swallows thickly, trying and failing to press herself closer to the bookshelf behind her. Josie’s inches away now, if that. Hope tries to stop her gaze from flickering down to Josie’s lips, with great difficulty.
Josie chuckles darkly when she notices, studying the tribrid closely. “You can hate me for it,” she continues, holding Hope’s stare. Hope shivers when the words send a puff of air over her lips. “Or you can get over it.”
It takes some time for Hope to reply. She can barely remember how to think, after all. “I don’t hate you,” she says, slightly flustered. “I’m just upset.”
Josie’s jaw ticks. “How long are you planning to stay upset?” she snaps impatiently. “It’s already been a week.”
That response sends a thrill of irritation down Hope’s spine. Her gaze hardens. “Jo, you could’ve died,” she snaps. “Forever.”
Josie raises an eyebrow. “Hope, I understand that,” she replies, frustrated. “But I didn’t.”
This reply infuriates Hope. Josie is being so casual—and, to Hope, the topic is anything but casual. “You could have,” she growls. “And you knew you could've, but you did it anyway—that is what I’m upset about.”
Hope pushes off of the bookshelf to punctuate her statement. Josie stumbles back a few steps, taken off guard by the movement. “Listen, Hope," she starts, rushing to get out her words. "If that’s what it took, it still would’ve been worth it—”
Hope scoffs almost violently before Josie can even finish the thought. “No, actually,” she snaps furiously. “It wouldn’t have!”
“I was just trying to protect you, Hope!” Josie retorted, her voice raising just to match Hope's.
Hope's face reddens like she's about to explode. She sucks in a sharp breath; a vein bulges out on her forehead from her struggle to contain herself. “I don’t need your protection, Josette,” she growls slowly. “I am fucking immortal.”
Josie's eyes widen at the use of her full name, her lips parting in shock. Her gaze falters nervously. “You can still suffer,” she argues, her voice quieter. She glances down at the floor with a frown. “And I’m destined to die, anyway. What difference does it make if it’s early?”
Hope likes that response even less than the last one. She steps closer, resting a hand on the shelf next to Josie's head while the other falls next to her waist, boxing her in. “Don’t even say that,” she commands, her eyes flashing gold.
Josie freezes. Her breath hitches in her chest. The position is somehow thrilling, even though Hope's a full head shorter than her. Suddenly, all Josie can think about is their proximity.
“What’s your point?" Hope demands, oblivious to Josie's inner turmoil. Her jaw ticks. "That your life has no value? That you’d sacrifice yourself if it meant I could avoid a mild inconvenience?”
Josie observes Hope carefully—the flush in her cheeks, the way the muscles in her shoulders are so tense. “I wouldn’t call death a mild inconvenience,” she replies, her voice far more distracted than before.
Hope scoffs. “Oh, really?” she says. “Because from where I’m standing, it doesn’t seem to be that significant to you.”
Josie shakes her head, releasing a frustrated sigh. “You really think I did this because I don't care if I die?” she asks, some frustration leaking into her voice. “There wasn't another option to me. There was no other way to protect you. That's all I was thinking about at the time.”
“Well, you don’t get to… to just throw around your life like that, Josie!” Hope blurts out, her tone frantic. “You mean too much to me!”
Josie stills, the weight of Hope's words hitting her with full force.
There's silence, for a moment, but then Hope takes a shaky breath and glares intently at the ceiling. "I wouldn't be able to fucking live with myself if I lost you, you know," she admits, her voice quiet and shaky.
Josie's expression softens. She practically melts, in fact, letting her full weight rest against the bookshelf behind her. "Hope...," she breathes, barely resisting the urge to reach out.
Hope's breathing is a bit erratic, and her eyes are watery like she's close to tears. She's clearly trying to hold herself together, but it isn't going well. "But I'd have to, Jo," she whispers, her voice rough around the edges. She manages to look down at Josie again. "I'd have to live with it. I'd have to spend the rest of forever agonizing over what I could've done to save you."
Josie just stares blankly, because suddenly she realizes what this is all about. Her lips part in shock. She practically feels her heart break in her chest.
Hope gulps, looking away. "You can't choose me over y-yourself," she sputters out. "You can't. Nothing could hurt me like losing you. Don’t ever underestimate what you mean to me again."
Josie decides that she's heard enough. In a split second, she surges forward with all the brute force of a hurricane, nearly knocking Hope off of her feet. Hope stumbles back a few steps from the momentum of it, but Josie simply follows after her without breaking the kiss.
Hope is stunned for a moment, unable to even move. She grunts when her back slams into a shelf, trying to brace herself. She ends up knocking over a few books in the process.
They clatter to the ground but both Hope and Josie are way too distracted to hear it.
After a few long moments of Josie kissing her like her life depends on it, Hope snaps out of her stupor and kisses back. She lets out a soft sigh, slipping a hand beneath Josie's shirt to caress the small of her back.
She loses herself in the kiss, overwhelmed by years of pent up emotions.
Josie doesn't seem to be faring much better. She whimpers into the kiss and threads her hands through Hope's hair, apparently desperate to get closer.
Hope pulls away, but only to mouth at Josie's jaw, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her neck.
"Hope," Josie breathes, her eyes closing and her head tilting back. "I'm so s-sorry."
Hope only hums her acknowledgement. She's already fully forgiven Josie—before their argument had even started, if she's being honest with herself—and she doesn't want to waste any more time.
Hope can't fully blame Josie, anyway. It's not like Hope wouldn't have done the same for her.
They kiss for a while longer, to the point where Hope almost forgets that this is their first kiss and that they're in a library.
Hope's ready to keep going all night, in fact—but then, the same deafening alarm from earlier bursts out of the intercom. Hope squeaks once again. She nearly collapses to the floor but Josie supports her.
The alarm cuts off and Alaric begins his announcement by clearing his throat. “Uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to set off the alarm again,” he mutters awkwardly. “The monster lockdown was a false alarm. It was actually a raccoon."
He gives no further explanation before the intercom cuts off again.
Josie doesn't have time to get too confused about the announcement, because it's only seconds before Hope is speaking again.
"Do you wanna go on a date with me?" Hope blurts out gracelessly, her voice husky and her breathing still way out of control.
Josie stares at her, in disbelief.
Hope's cheeks are flushed—her lips are swollen and her pupils are fully dilated. Josie's certain that she herself looks the same, if not worse.
Josie can't help it—she laughs. She entwines her fingers with Hope's to make sure that the tribrid doesn't take it the wrong way. When she manages to settle down, she looks down at Hope fondly. "Yes, Hope," she says through a grin. "I'd love to go on a date with you."
Hope smiles like she's won the lottery.
Josie doesn't think it's fair at all for her to be so adorable.