can we have some calihuila for the soul? doesn't have to be a drabble, could be just a list of hcs about them
Carmen is distinctly aware this is not her scene, but she’s comforted by the fact that it’s not really Cal’s either.
Cal looks stunning in her dress, a wine red so dark it looks almost purple, and if they weren’t in public she would kiss her right now.
Carmen settles for holding her hand.
She catches people staring once or twice, and straightens her spine and tosses her hair back defiantly and raises her eyebrows. Dares them to say something. Cal prefers to use her words to deal with assholes, but Carmen isn’t above throwing a glass of champagne in someone’s face.
No one does. A few people recognize that Cal is the photographer that has a whole section of the gallery devoted to their blown-up prints and come talk to her, and most of them give Carmen curious looks, but she doesn’t get any homophobic vibes from them.
Carmen’s a little confused, and then pissed that she’s confused that all humans aren’t complete trash.
Cal leads her around the gallery slowly, commenting on certain pieces and at one point getting sidetracked into an explanation about Robert Frank and Les Américains before Carmen realizes that Cal hasn’t shown her her own work yet.
Cal flushes when Carmen points it out. Carmen raises her eyebrows. Cal is about as close to shameless as a person can get. A blush that doesn’t come out of a makeup container is a truly rare thing from her.
Cal carefully leads her to her section of the gallery.
“Don’t be mad, okay? It’s- a good photo, and I didn’t mean to put it in the portfolio but I did and then they said it was too good to take back-”
Carmen puts a hand over her mouth.
Cal makes a distressed noise. “I know you probably hate it-”
The centerpiece is a photo of her laying in water, hand over her eyes, surrounded by flowers and snakes. (What the average person wouldn’t know is that she’d been laying in a kiddie pool in Cal’s backyard, and those were high-quality fake snakes.)
No wonder people had been looking at her- even if half her face was covered in the photo, her tattoos didn’t lend themselves to anonymity.
Cal beams. “You like it?”
Carmen kisses her. It’s just a brief little thing, but a decade ago she wouldn’t have been able to do it.
“Does that answer the question?” Carmen teases, and Cal grins.