Work Text:
“Yeah, so before we found out she just lost her phone, I for real thought she got kidnapped.”
Irene squints. “Wha– Yeri? What, why would you—”
“No, yeah and I was seriously about to call the cops on her uncle.” Yeri dips her spoon into the sugary buttercream of their shared vanilla slice. “I mean he’s really nice, but y’know… just statistically.”
A disgruntled huff sounds from Yeri as her criminal intellect is blatantly ignored yet again because her unnie is too busy turning her head to the cashier for what the younger girl swears is the millionth time today. So she addresses the elephant in the room with a mouthful of cake. “Yah, unnie, if you really want to hit her up that bad just use your legs and go.”
“Hit— hit her up? What are you even talking about?” Irene whips round and glares daggers at a blasé Yeri, who just leans back and regards her with a brow raised.
“Am I wrong, though?”
Furious peonies blush in Irene’s cheeks as she scrambles to defend herself. “Aish, did you have to say it like that? You look at me like I just want to bed her or something.”
The effect is instant. Yeri chokes on her cake which has Irene hurriedly reaching over to pat her back to life. “Unnie, unnie,” she begs, finally clearing her throat, “please promise never to say that again. You’re trying to flirt with her, not make her think you’re two spicy mayo dips away from the geriatric ward.”
Yeri artfully dodges a back-of-the-head smack from a dumbfounded Irene for that one. The latter scorns the cheeky grin still plastered on her dongsaeng’s smug face. “I’m leaving you to choke and die next time, Yeri-ah.”
“Ooh, scawwy! Pwease, someone, help!” The most punchable expression pairs with Yeri’s annoying aegyo. And Irene probably would’ve punched her too, if not for an attention-grabbing interaction taking place at the cash register.
“Shh, hang on, hang on,” Irene shushes, eyes tunnelled in on a certain pair of pink lips and bright eyes, “what do you think’s going on between her and that customer?”
Yeri pauses the dramatics and glances over before shrugging. “Uh, I dunno. Looks like she’s helping some woman decide what dessert to get. So like, she’s doing her jo—”
“Yeah, but that customer was just laughing,” Irene interrupts with furrowed brows. A few obscuring strands of hair come untucked from behind her ear and she irritatedly swipes at them. “If anything, she should laughing at her for being so stupidly indecisive.”
Yeri’s jaw hangs on its hinges and she holds a hand to her chest. She’s never seen her unnie so riled up over something so… nothing, before. “Oh my god, unnie… are you… jealous?”
A guilty scoff slips out of Irene’s mouth a little too quickly, and she prays to all that is good and holy that Yeri can’t tell she’s crumbling on the inside. “What? No! I— I don’t even care.” A musical laugh sounds from behind her and Irene’s thoughts take the form of an exasperated whisper. “Christ, what’s she laughing at now? What is this, Ladies Night at the Cash Register?!”
Enlightenment crashes in waves. Yeri dings with solidified suspicions. “I don’t know unnie,” she sing-songs disbelievingly, waving a cream-covered spoon in Irene’s face. “You have been dragging us to this cafe like crazy recently, and… oh my god… we always get a cake to share and I always end up eating all of it.”
The younger knowingly nudges her gobsmacked roommate with her elbow. “You’re just coming to stare at the pretty girl behind the counter.” Then she juts her tongue out. “Ew, if I do say so myself.”
Irene could really pass for one of those Greek marble statues right now.
“So,” Yeri pushes, “how long have you ‘like’ liked her?”
That snaps her out of her trance. Ugh, youths.
“No, I don’t ‘like’ like her because we’re not twelve-year-olds at summer camp.” Irene shoves a forkful of vanilla cake into her mouth just to prove a point. “I’m a functioning adult woman in a complex re—”
Yeri smirks. “You know she looks at you too, right?”
Fuck, seriously?! The nerve of this kid to drop the kind of bombs that have her utterly floored in public situations. Only the goal to severely humiliate, surely.
Irene gulps dryly. “… she… she does?”
She has to cough up the rest of that mouthful into a tissue before dragging a protesting Yeri out of the cafe with burning cheeks and a stutter in her heart.
. . . . .
“So that’s why you started forcing Yeri to start hanging out with you outside the cafe, huh.” Wendy concludes with an amused smirk. “So you could watch me from the windows?” Her eyes widen mischievously. “Heol, is that why you married me too? So you could live out your pervy fantasies of bedding the barista forever?”
That freaking Yeri is gonna get a back-of-the-head-smack-3000 tomorrow at lunch.
Irene hides a bashful grin into her wife’s shoulder. “Wannie-ah, enough… do you insist on torturing me? It's been five years already…”
Wendy just laughs sincerely. “Of course, Hyunnie! And thanks to Yerimie, I'm never letting you live that down. You know, if I didn’t have a stupid huge crush on you as well, you’d be a freakin’ creep.”
“Right?!” Electricity shoots up Irene’s spine and she jolts upright from her spot on the sofa, cuddled between Wendy’s elongated legs. “How messed up is that?”
Her wife is about to shoot some snazzy comment back, but her phone alarm rings so she leans over to give Irene a little kiss on the jaw and lovingly noses into her cheek. “C’mon hun, Rosie’s done with taekwondo. It’s your turn to pick her up.”
Before she even gets to settle down, there’s a grip around her wrist and Irene is dragging her protesting wife out the house to their car.
a/n: wrote this drowning in deadlines and assignment extensions, so just ignore the errors haha