Work Text:
“Toujo!”
It’s Miu’s voice, unmistakably, but as much as the shout sounds like a cause for concern, Kirumi doesn’t really want to look up. She’s busy right now, working on a request from Angie that she help with a birthday card for Ryoma, and it’s a request that’s really been enjoying fulfilling. Regardless, she knows that she can’t in good conscience ignore Miu, so with a sigh she tries to keep back in her throat, she puts the card to the side and lifts her head, watching the other girl jog over. She’s holding a jacket in her hands, a denim jacket with patches on it that is vaguely familiar to Kirumi.
When Miu stops, she thrusts the jacket in Kirumi’s face. “Fix my fuckin’ jacket!”
“Is that a request?” Kirumi asks politely. She hopes Miu doesn’t hear the slight irritation in her voice. Such abrasiveness is typical of Miu, so it’s not really her fault that Kirumi is just feeling especially irritable today. Actually, Kirumi should tone it down so Miu doesn’t feel bad, because it’s very easy to shut her down, which has to come from a place of low self-esteem. Trying to force a smile wouldn’t look right either though, probably more on the side of passive aggressive, so instead she shifts her gaze and meets Miu’s light blue eyes, raising her eyebrows.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Miu huffs, exasperated. She doesn’t seem bothered by Kirumi’s annoyance, which is both a relief and an additional annoyance, but Kirumi shoves those feelings to the side. “It’s my favourite jacket, y’know, and it tore, so…” as she trails off, Kirumi reaches out to take the garment from her, figuring she might as well take a look at the thing before replying. She’s going to accept the request, naturally, but…
Ah. There’s a large tear across the back of the jacket, stretching jagged and diagonal from where Miu’s left armpit would be almost down to the lower right corner. Unpleasant. How did this even happen? In lieu of asking that, Kirumi says, “I’ve never seen you wear it before,” which perhaps isn’t the most maid-like thing, but aside from her incredulity about the ridiculousness of this tear, it’s the thing that’s at the forefront of her mind.
“I wear the uniform.” Miu grumbles. She crosses her arms over her chest. “I know it’s a bad fucking rip, alright, you don’t need to refrain from saying anything because you think I’ll be embarrassed.” Well, that isn’t necessarily why Kirumi was keeping her mouth shut on the subject, but she gives Miu an apologetic smile nonetheless. “I just, y’know, I was working on some shit for Kiibo-- top secret shit, by the way!” She adds, too loudly, as though Kirumi would honestly ask for clarification. (She’s a bit offended at the insinuation. Forget it not being her place as a maid; who does Miu think she is? Kokichi?) “But it got caught on a sharp edge of another invention and… yeah.”
“Mm. Putting torn fabric under duress will do that. Denim tears remarkably quickly.” Kirumi runs her finger over the fluffy threads at the edge, gazing down at it for a moment longer. “But alright, I will have it fixed for you by tomorrow. I will need to finish up with Hoshi’s birthday card for Angie, but then I will get directly to it.”
Miu appraises her for a moment, and then her lips curl into a smile. “Why’re ya making a birthday card for Hoshi’s birthday if it’s for the art bimbo?”
“It was Angie’s request,” says Kirumi lightly.
“Right, right. Fuck, y’know Toujo--” Miu breaks off and gives her an odd look that is much softer than Kirumi is accustomed to. “Someone could take serious advantage of that request shit, y’know.”
“I do not fulfill sexual favours.”
“I’m not talking about that!” squeals Miu. “I-I only meant, you could take over the world or something, and someone could use your taking-over-the-world abilities to like, do serious shit.” Ah. Kirumi had no idea Miu’s opinion of her is so complimentary. “You should be careful. I’ve never seen you reject a request before.”
Kirumi recalls the time that Kokichi requested she decorate Kaito’s room with ghost cutouts. “...I assure you, there have been requests that I have been unable to fulfill.” She says. Unwilling is perhaps the better word, but that’s unprofessional.
“Right.” Miu looks at her for another moment. “Welp! Better hurry the fuck up on my jacket! I’m not sure you’re much more than a glorified MILF sometimes, ya know?” She lets out her familiar, loud laugh (though Kirumi hears a note of anxiety hidden in there somewhere) before turning and hurrying off. When she disappears around the corner, Kirumi gazes after her for a short moment, and then looks back down at the card.
She should hurry and finish up. She doesn’t really believe what Miu said right now, about the MILF thing, but… Kirumi finds herself smiling as she bends back over her work, all irritation forgotten for the moment, the weight of Miu’s jacket in her lap spurring her on.