Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rumi should probably be asleep all things considered, she mused over her email while an accusatory clock blinked that it was barely past 3 AM. She knew that if she didn’t at least look like she tried to sleep, Zoey would be overcome with the divine urge to nag at her workaholic girlfriend.

Rumi smiled at the imagined visual, of Zoey literally dragging her to bed or the overly plush couch that the previous tenant left that takes up a solid third of the apartment’s floor space. Rumi’s plants and Zoey’s gaming rig take up another third, and considering the sheer amount of time they spend-

The door’s lock twists as Rumi’s favorite person finally arrives home and Rumi takes a breath to calm down her initial thrill at just the thought of her girlfriend walking through the door.

She gets off of her office chair that she inadvertently rolled towards the entryway and hops towards it, giddy and possibly delirious with a smidge of sleep deprivation as the door swings wide open.

Wider than usual, but Rumi’s not complaining about the extra room for wingspan as she scoops up her diminutive beloved and sways her side to side.

“Zoey! How was the gig? Did my DJ extraordinaire absolutely ‘crush it’ as the kids say?” Rumi asked, beaming after seeing Zoey with no obvious dismay or harm.

Her wide smile shrinks a bit when Rumi focuses on Zoey’s expression, which, while not distressed (according to Rumi’s mental chart of Zoey Expressions), shows she has something on her mind.

“Hey Rumi! The show went great, everybody loved it and I especially loved the paycheck that came with the ‘everybody loving it part’ but, eh…” Zoey’s expression turned a bit sheepish, “I’ve got something to ask but you gotta promise not to get mad first.”

Rumi immediately starts to think about the best places to hide a body and whether or not Celine would be willing to harbor her and Zoey from the inevitable waves of law enforcement sure to follow.

“I promise I won’t get mad,” She says while making sure to cross her fingers behind her back to show if she does, indeed, get mad.

Zoey backs into the night-darkened hallway (Oh no, are Zoey and Rumi too loud for the hour? Rumi should bake an apology treat.) and then all but drags a...bear costume?

The bear costume moves its head to stare at Rumi with its comically large button eyes and Rumi doesn’t fight the shiver that shoots up her spine of the thought of someone inside the bear as it looms over her (very) trusting girlfriend.

“Zoey? Who’s this?” She asked, polite smile stapled onto her face as the bear unblinkingly stares down at her. Glowers? Rumi’s very functional stranger-danger sense is beeping furiously as she lets in the very possible axe-murderer.

“This is Mira!” Zoey chirped, far too chipper for the hour. Rumi turns away from the possible axe-murderer Mira to survey her girlfriend.

Twitchy fingers, slightly furrowed brow, eyes wandering #23. Oh, Zoey is genuinely concerned about the potential reaction Rumi might have at...Mira.

“Hi,” Rumi holds out her hand, which is then engulfed in a plush grip, “I’m Rumi.”

“Mira.” The bear replies, muffled behind its cuddly-looking head.

A moment of silence passes as Rumi holds hands with a giant teddy bear lookalike. Now that the fear of being axe-murdered to death has passed, all that’s left is confusion.

“So! Mira was the main dancer tonight at the gig but some bozo dumped what smelt like a bucket of jungle juice on her and the only clothes that she could fit in after drying off with, like, a billion of those little bar napkins was the bear mascot from last week’s rave.

And after I saw Mira all soggy and jungle-juiced I offered to let her borrow our shower and a set of clothes for the night...is that okay?” Zoey asked, like Rumi wouldn’t literally get axe-murdered for her.

“Sure, no problem. Mira, the bathroom is just over there,” Rumi points that-away and as the bear costume lumbered out of sight and into the bathroom, Zoey squeaked and hugged Rumi like air wasn’t meant to be inside the lungs.

“You’re the best babe! I’ll toss Mira’s stuff in the wash, so could you grab a set of pajamas for her? There’s the set we bought a while ago in the closet.”

Rumi remembers that set, it was extremely loose on her and had Zoey practically drowning in the cloth. They’ve been meaning to return the set to the store but shortly after Zoey’s DJ business kicked up and they just forgot.

Forgetfulness has now come in clutch, as Zoey would say.

Rumi grabs the valentine’s day themed set, with puppies and hearts all across it (Puppy love, apparently), and walks in front of the bathroom door. She knocks and the still possible axe-murderer answers,

“Yes?” Her voice, no longer muffled, has a bit of gravel that scratches at an unknown itch in Rumi’s mind.

“Hey, it’s Rumi. I’ve got the clothes if you want them.” (Of course she’s going to want them. What’s the alternative to the bear costume? Nudity?)

A moment of silence before the bathroom door unlocks and a hand with the most perfect fingers Rumi has ever seen reaches out. Rumi is briefly frozen with the shock of the experience before she’s abruptly rebooted into action and all but shoved the bundle into the waiting hand that’s likely to haunt Rumi for a while.

“Thanks.” Mira said after closing the door, her voice soft enough that Rumi had to strain her ears to catch it.

Rumi stepped back after a moment, her face burning from...embarrassment. She walked over to the laundry room where Zoey just put the washer on a speed wash and hugged her from behind, arms looping around her waist as Rumi nuzzled her favorite person.

“Hey tiger,” Zoey’s smile was audible as Rumi nosed into the nape, “How’s our guest? More importantly, how are you?”

Rumi took in a deep breath, luxuriating in Zoey’s smell even through the other odors nestled into Zoey’s skin, an inevitability with the job.

She loves that Zoey’s job has been picking up speed, but Rumi hates that she can’t help her along.

Too loud, too crowded, and Rumi would be more of a liability than an assistant.

“Our guest is in the shower, and she’s got the pajamas. As for me, I’m fine.”

Zoey turned around, still in Rumi’s arms to hug back, “You sure? I know you can get...territorial when people visit.”

Rumi tilted her head, considering how she felt about the stranger now probably using Zoey’s apple-scented shampoo, or even her own lavender body wash. Maybe it’s because her main impressions of Mira are the large teddy bear costume and of a hand that she can envision with her eyes closed, but Mira’s presence doesn’t irk her like Jinu and his gang of clowns.

They only visited the once, but the way that Abby sat on the couch still rankles her.

“I promise, I’m fine with Mira being here,” Rumi kissed Zoey, a quick peck as the bathroom door creaks open across the apartment and a goddess in puppy pajamas all but struts out.

Well. She doesn’t strut as much as drag the deflated corpse of a teddy costume out from the cramped bathroom, but Rumi can’t help but feel flabbergasted at the sight of her.

She’s tall and sharp looking, like an absurdly hot looking spear. With pink hair.

“Thanks for the clothes and shower, I’ll head out once my clothes dry.” Mira’s raspy voice, no longer muffled by cloth nor hollow-core door, sends shivers up Rumi’s spine.

“What? No, it’s way too late, how about you crash on the couch and then Rumi and I can serve you our world famous pancakes. Well, my world famous pancakes, but Rumi’s got some yakgwa we keep in the microwave if you want; it’s handmade even.”

Rumi met Mira’s eyes (another shiversome thrill shoots up Rumi’s spine) and nodded, trying to smile. Mira’s eyebrows raise minutely in response before she nods and looks at the couch that probably has its own zip code.

“Well, there’s certainly space to stretch on this couch; Zoey, are you and Rumi secretly rich? Because this thing is easily a couple thousand.” Mira’s voice is still flat but Rumi gets the feeling that she’s telling a joke and so laughs. Zoey looks confused for a moment before shaking her head,

“Nah, we got that second- or third-hand. If I were rich, I’d be getting the name-brand ramen rather than the generic.”

Rumi gasps in shocked betrayal, “You told me you prefer the generic!” She bemoans, barely holding back her grin.

“It was generic or no lights on for my flower’s flowers.” Zoey poked Rumi in the side, causing her to slide away at double speed.

Needing to both change the subject and avoid a tickle fight, Rumi strode over to the linen closet and grabbed a couple of throw pillows and a comically large blanket plastered with wolves looking at a poorly rendered moon.

“Don’t mind the looks, this is the second nicest blanket we’ve got at home,” Rumi passes the bundle to the taller woman while Zoey gasps at Rumi’s casual diss of the wolf blanket.

Mira looks at the bundle, then at the other women, before shuffling over to the couch.

While she gets comfortable, Rumi bustles around, turning off the lights and double-checking the locks. Zoey moves the standing lamp closer to the couch and then nods in satisfaction at Mira.

“Now if you need anything, just knock on the door and Rumi will probably wake up immediately to help out; anyways, sleep well.”

While Mira is drop gorgeous beyond belief, it’s odd that Rumi isn’t more uncomfortable about a literal stranger sleeping in her house, while Rumi’s going to be sleeping as well.

Well. If she’s going to be axe-murdered, then so be it. At least she’ll die at the hands of beauty and in the arms of love.

Rumi collapses into bed, her absurdly late bedtime surely to make her rue the day later on as her eyes sting behind eyelids. Zoey slides in behind her, arms looped around Rumi’s waist as she cuddles into her back.

“Thanks for letting Mira stay; I know it was a big surprise, but I really appreciate this.” Zoey’s voice murmured into the dark quiet of the room. Rumi grabbed her hand, intertwining their fingers.

She thought of Mira’s face and really focused. Her beautiful pink hair, though wet from the shower, seemed...unkempt, her face...was a little thin, even considering her supermodel proportions, the way she moved like a stray cat Rumi fostered in college. Rumi wasn’t sure what about Mira pinged her, but the idea of her just leaving in the morning made her feel...hollow.

“We can let Mira stay whenever she needs if you want, as long as she needs.” The words left Rumi’s mouth before she could finish her thought and she stilled as Zoey’s arm tensed briefly.

After a moment of silence Zoey responded, “We can...if she wants to.”

"Depends on her."

Chapter Text

The morning is as cold as ever when Rumi wakes up, her nose itself feeling like it’s been refrigerated separate from her otherwise warm face. She fights the urge to press it against her blissfully sleeping girlfriend’s neck and instead shuffles out of the room.

Mira is also still asleep, her face buried into the wolf blanket; as such, it looks like her head was pasted onto one of the many wolf bodies. It’s funny, but rather than the comedy, Rumi focused on how her brow was furrowed even in sleep. She ignored the urge to smooth out the expression like she would with Zoey and instead went to the coffee maker that very faintly smells of fish.

She turns it on and, after a moment’s thought, puts in the nice beans that Celine gave as a gift some time ago.

The grinder worked at a low volume, muffled by Rumi trying to move as quietly as possible, and before anyone else walked into the sparse kitchen, three cups of coffee were set out on the counter. Rumi deliberately filled Zoey’s cup a little less than half to make space for all the cream and sugar her girlfriend likes to drown her drink in.

As for Rumi, she only added a cream or two, depending on her mood. Today is a two-cream day; she’ll need the fortification to carry her through her tasks.

Rumi looked at the third cup steaming on the counter and considered it before putting the cream back in the fridge. If Mira asks, then she’ll tell her, but it’s rude to assume she’d want cream and sugar.

Unless it’s even more rude to assume she doesn’t.

Rumi spends several moments going back and forth from the fridge to pull out the cream, only to turn around and put it back. On one of her creamer-out passes, she spots Mira staring at the bright pink coffee mug that gleefully declares not to talk to the drinker until they’ve had their coffee in purple comic sans print.

“Oh! Hey Mira, sorry for assuming you wanted coffee, but if you want creamer, I’ve got creamer, and the sugar is over there, and-” Rumi’s ramble is stopped by the taller woman stoically picking up the cup and taking a long sip, revealing the cat meme on the bottom that’s flipping off the viewer.

“Good coffee.” She says after taking several gulps of the still-hot liquid. Rumi blinks. Mira doesn’t.

During the silence, Mira chugs the rest of the coffee and sets it down on the counter before walking directly into the bathroom and turning on the tap for some reason. Before Rumi can puzzle out why, Zoey appears from the bedroom, her hair looking endearingly mussed as always.

Rumi hands her the cup of mostly creamer and kisses Zoey, warm and only slightly reminiscent of morning breath. Rumi’s coffee breath probably isn’t that much better, but they lean into one another, swaying ever-so-slightly. Rumi pulls back to peck Zoey’s forehead and goes to pick up the single pan from the cupboard.

Subsiding mostly on takeout and protein bars doesn’t inspire to fill the kitchen with much more than the air fryer and microwave. Zoey pasted googly eyes on both.

“Gonna be making those ‘world famous pancakes’?” Rumi teased, smiling at Zoey’s various morning noises that seemed affirmative. The affirmation was cemented after she pulled out the pancake mix from the pantry and began preparing it from memory, using the scant seasonings to liven the flavor of the base pancakes.

“Berries?” Zoey’s first word of the day. Rumi tilted her head, thinking of the frozen berries they had, and nodded; berries sounded very nice in her pancakes.

“I’ll check if Mira wants any,” Rumi said, leaving her dazed girlfriend to begin cooking the first batch of pancakes.

Rumi went to the bathroom right as the tap finally turned off and knocked on the door, “Mira? I was wondering if you’d like some berries in your batch,” She called.

Mira didn’t answer for a moment before she raised her voice, door kept tightly shut, “How about berries in one pancake but the rest plain?”

Rumi nodded but then remembered that Mira probably didn’t have x-ray vision, so she called an affirmation and walked back to relay the information to a marginally more awake Zoey.

Zoey nodded, then shuffled closer to Rumi before making kissy lips, which Rumi immediately went to reciprocate. Rumi only pulled away when the smell in the pan started to turn more burnt than caramelized.

“Zoey?”

“Mmh?”

“Pancakes are burning.”

“Guh”

Early morning conversations usually aren’t this philosophical, but Zoey must be more chatty due to the guest present. Who is still in the bathroom, now that Rumi’s thinking of it.

“Zoey, did we keep the extra toothbrushes in the bathroom behind the mirror or under the sink?”
“Sink”

Rumi nodded, then walked out of the kitchen and into the living room, where Mira was slumped over on the couch; she must still be pretty tired from her rough night.

“Hey, in case you want to brush your teeth after breakfast, we keep some toothbrushes-new, I promise, under the sink.”

For some reason, the post-coffee Mira looked more tired than pre-coffee; guess she’s the type to get sleepy from the brew, though it is odd she knew this about herself but still chose to drink.

Oh no, did Rumi peer-pressure her? Can that happen after only knowing someone for less than a morning?

Rumi’s never had that many peers to pressure, so this is uncharted territory.

“Rumi!” Zoey called from the kitchen, causing Rumi to walk over there before her brain kicked in to remind her that she left a social interaction unfinished and now had lost points.

Points for something. Rumi doesn’t know aside from knowing she somehow messed up.

While Rumi was mourning her falling score, Zoey passed two plates over to her and directed her over to the couch, where Mira looked marginally more put together since the last interaction. Which Rumi failed by leaving prematurely. Premature leaver.

Leaving Zoey and the syrup in the kitchen behind, Rumi strides into the living room, dual-wielding freshly cooked flapjacks before presenting the one with only one berry pancake to Mira, who took it in a smooth motion. Too smooth. Mira must have a lot of practice in pancake procuring.

“Thanks,” She said, before looking around, “Where’s the syrup? Or is this a dry pancake household?”

“Zoey likes to bring the syrup in, she says it adds to the ritual of breakfast.”

“Does she do this for the other meals you eat?”

Rumi snorts, “Why else do you think we’ve got eyes on the air fryer? We have to thank it before taking the food out, or Zoey gets sad for it.”

“Him! His name is Grillzilla, and he works hard to heat our food.” Zoey rebuts as she launches herself onto the couch, barely keeping her portion of pancakes from taking flight. Rumi helps soften the landing by being a pillow for her gravity-defying girlfriend, knowing the exact way to reduce the impact after many, many, many unwanted introductions of Zoey’s elbow to Rumi’s poor, innocent stomach. Or boobs, that was a particularly rough afternoon that helped Rumi get very acquainted with the apartment’s bag of frozen peas (most likely expired by now).

Rumi knows that if she asks Zoey to check and see if the peas were expired, the next time she has to use them, they’ll likely have googly eyes pasted on, barely hanging on due to the glue being frozen as well.

That’s how the icebox became a cyclops.

While Rumi has been ruminating, the other two began eating their pancakes: Zoey with her usual enthusiasm, and Mira with a sort of concentrated enjoyment.

Mira eats like she’s studying the food, slow and surprisingly meticulous. It makes Rumi think of all the fancy meals that Celine brings her and Zoey to, with the many utensils that are usually ignored in favor of the flavorful food set in front of them.

That meticulousness was practically on display as Mira would cut up a piece of pancake and then dip it into her syrup. Probably to reduce potential sogginess if she poured the syrup directly onto the flapjack.

Rumi didn’t mind, though she only poured enough for one pancake at a time, and Zoey preferred getting her stack saturated with syrup for the texture.

Rumi loves Zoey with all her heart, would give anything she had in the world for her favorite girl, but you couldn’t pay Rumi enough to eat what Zoey actively chooses to eat.

The crimes that she commits with just milk and soda are more than a few.

Breakfast was quiet, but not uncomfortably quiet, just the clinking of the few forks that were in the apartment clanking on the plates as everyone finished their meals leisurely. Rumi wanted to offer a drink to Mira, considering that she had already finished the coffee set out earlier, but she wasn’t sure that she’d enjoy any of the other beverages Zoey and Rumi had.

(Coffee, milk, soda, tea…soju?)”Rumi?” Zoey’s voice popped Rumi out of her beverage trance, and she received an affectionate poke for her efforts.

“Gotta reboot my Rumi,” Zoey says, her grin widening when Rumi smiles at her.

Rumi then turns her head to Mira, who’s just about done with her plate, poking at one of the berries that managed to get out from its baked prison, a piece of chopped strawberry that was bought on sale and frozen till now. The fate of a fruit…

“Pretty fantastic pancakes, huh, Mira?” The words leave Rumi’s mouth as she creates an audio crime, but rather than beat her with sticks and leave her on the mountain, Mira just huffs out what Rumi supposes is a laugh and nods.

“Yeah, this is definitely the best breakfast I’ve had in a while, thanks for having me.” Mira looks up and smiles, ever so slightly, at Zoey and Rumi. Rumi faintly hears Zoey’s flapjack flopping back onto the plate noisily beside her.

Having found her voice faster than her girlfriend, Rumi replied, “We’ll have you anytime you want.”

Silence hung in the room like a noose. Which is what Rumi wants now in her urge to complete a category five diva moment.

“WHAT RUMI MEANS IS FOR BREAKFAST,” Zoey breaks the silence with a voice stronger than a sledgehammer, startling Mira into a coughing fit.

Rumi might’ve bruised her back with her frantic beating to release Mira’s hostage breath, but shot out in an artistic arc was the traitorous strawberry that splatted against Zoey’s forehead.

Silence hung in the air again, but was broken up quicker by Mira’s quiet, shaking giggles. Breathless, Rumi joins in while Zoey fills the chorus of joy with her endearing guffaws.

They giggled till faces ached from smiling and stomachs ached from clenching,

“Stop...stop laughing or I’m gonna puke,” Zoey gasped, slumped over the couch, and Rumi belatedly noticed that her hand was still on Mira’s back. Mira must have noticed too, based on how her spine straightened up under Rumi’s palm.

Rumi fought the strange urge to rub Mira’s back before pulling her hand away and sitting beside her still chuckling girlfriend.

“Hooh!” Zoey finally regained her composure before showing one of her megawatt smiles at Mira, who blinks in surprise, "Anyways, what we mean to say,” She says, meeting Rumi’s eyes, “We’re happy to have you over whenever.”

“Yeah,” Rumi supplements, “I’m normally just hanging out at home while Zoey’s at her gigs or volunteering at the zoo.”

“I can feed the reptiles on Thursdays,” Zoey stage-whispers, “I can introduce you to Donnashello, he’s the newest addition to the exhibit.”

“A turtle, I’m guessing, based on the name,” Mira replied dryly.

Rumi nodded, “He’s her favorite,” While Zoey sticks her tongue out at her completely correct girlfriend.

“False! My favorite is Turt Swilliams.”

“Ah, yes, my girlfriend and her giant weighted plushie.” Rumi dryly stated, playfully rolling her eyes at Mira, who was watching their antics with a quiet intensity.

“Was that the giant shadow I saw through your doorway?” Mira asked after a moment that felt...odd. Rumi snapped back to pay attention to the social interaction,

“The very one; back when I first got him, he used to have glow-in-the-dark eyes until Zoey freaked herself out after seeing it coming to bed at midnight. Had to replace the eyes with these giant buttons I got specially.”

“Didn’t you buy them from Mystery?” Zoey pokes Rumi in her ticklish side, grinning when she squirms away.

“Yep, hand-carved; we thought it was funny that he showed me his ‘eyes’ before you got a peek.”

Zoey opened her mouth to joke back, but noticed Mira looking at her phone with a frown, “Mira? You okay over there?”

“Hm? I’m fine, landlord is just being a dick, something about the laundry,” Mira said, brows furrowed as she squinted down at the smartphone.

Rumi suddenly remembered Mira’s clothes in the dryer and sped over to fluff them.

After she got back from her laundry mission, Mira and Zoey were squinting at the phone together.

“Rumi, come over and make sure I’m not hallucinating,” Zoey says, her voice oddly flat and with the eyebrow furrow usually reserved after a bad shift at the coffee shop. Rumi leans over the couch (and coincidentally over both Mira and Zoey) to stare at the display of stupidity on the other side of the screen.

“This person is deeply unpleasant.” She remarked after a full minute of chewing on her words.

Like most times that she’s insulting someone, this has been defanged several times over. Rumi could go against the poor spelling, or grammar, or just about the sheer gall and entitlement shown by that excuse of a landlord. It’s a bald-faced showing of a power play, ending with an implied dare of ‘what are you going to do about it?’ that makes Rumi clench her jaw.

“Wow, that guy sucks like crazy. Do you need me to kick his ass? Or do you want Rumi to kick his ass? We can disguise ourselves with the bear costume- nobody would believe him.”

Mira, though Rumi’s sure she didn’t mean to display the emotion, looks almost choked up before her eyes blink sharply a few times, and she shakes her head.

“For one, there’s CCTV everywhere so he’d be seen being beaten up by a bear, and for another, he’s already renting under market price so…” Her voice, dry as ever, wavers towards the end. Mira swallows, then continues in a lighter tone,

“...Besides, my lease is almost up anyway, if he keeps being a dick, then I’ll move out once that happens. No reason to save him the trouble and let him keep the deposit.”

“Well, if you wanna stay over again, feel free!” Zoey chirps right as the dryer begins its little beep-song to indicate the load is finished. Rumi stands up and gathers the freshly laundered pile of clothing and, after a brief moment to debate folding the clothes, presents the crisply folded pants and shirt to Mira.

She looks happy despite not smiling. Rumi notes the relaxed eyebrows and comfortable posture until she grabs the bundle and heads to the bathroom again.

Out struts Mira in beautiful (though mildly uncomfortable-looking) clothes; she smiles again when Rumi and Zoey applaud her model walk, and she does a few joking poses before her phone rings.

Mira’s faint smile fades when she looks at the phone. She then shakes her head, “I gotta go deal with this- but we’ll hang later?” Rumi almost swears with how cute her awkwardly pleading expression is.

Both Zoey and Rumi nod quickly; Zoey slides over in her fuzzy socks, almost crashing into Mira before course correcting.

“Here, lemme plug in both my and Rumi’s number,” Zoey says, making grabby hands. Mira hands it over with barely any hesitation and watches in mute surprise at how quickly she types in the numbers, snapping a likely blurry selfie and an in-motion picture of Rumi as she goes to tidy up the couch.

Zoey pauses, then laughs loudly before continuing her technological speeding and passing the phone back to Mira, right as Rumi gets a text from presumably Mira’s phone, which she saves promptly.

Mira looks at the group chat that was set up in what felt like seconds before peering closer at the profile pictures. She tilts her head before showing the phone at Zoey with a questioning expression; Mira gets only another bark of laughter from the shorter girl, so she shows the group chat to Rumi.

Zoey’s picture is as chaotic (but cute) as the woman and Rumi’s pose is…”Zoey, how did you make me look like Bigfoot?” Rumi asked in genuine confusion, only to receive wheezing in response.

“Bigfoot?”

“Some American cryptid, they only got a picture of it mid-stride.”

“That’s funny.”

Rumi gasped at the sudden betrayal of silliness by Mira, only to be almost tackled into a hug by her girlfriend; she tried to keep her betrayed expression, but the kiss on her cheek led to her spine becoming naught but jello. Rumi can’t help it; who told her to get the cutest girlfriend in the world?

Rumi then looked up at Mira for a moment, and the air got a bit heavier as she cleared her throat, “Text us when you get back to your place?” She asked.

Mira nodded, then, after a brief goodbye, the front door closed shut. Rumi tries not to think about how much quieter the room feels all of a sudden as she hugs Zoey tighter to herself.

Chapter Text

Days went by and Rumi was still thinking about Mira; not in a mean way, but she was wondering if she was sleeping enough or if her landlord was being a jerk. Zoey was also thinking of Mira, based on how much she’s been talking about her or spamming the group chat.

Mira responded often enough that Rumi is reasonably certain that she’s not annoyed by Zoey’s misspellings (She gets too excited and sends the text out without rereading it) and Rumi’s perfectly formatted and signed texts; she’s reasonably certain that Mira, in fact, enjoys these conversations about a whole lot of nothing and a little bit of their days.

Mira uses emojis more than expected, though her lowercase preference isn’t a surprise. Rumi muses that a certified cool girl such as Mira would shun the common practice of capitalization, though in retrospect, the only one adhering to the practice in the group chat is…only Rumi.

Rumi will have to abscond to the woods if either girl in the group chat notices that she’s an imposter and, in fact, not cool.
Rumi will likely not survive in the woods and will likely be carried off by a large bird of some sort. She’s accepted this fate.

Snapping back to attention, she sees that Mira and Zoey have been sending each other pictures of their lunch, and Zoey is now tagging Rumi for hers; she has actually been for a while now. Mira joined in the tagging.

Ah. Right. Lunch. Rumi hurriedly grabbed a tteokbokki and set it to prepare before taking a sideways picture with a question mark to indicate whether or not it was a decent offering.

Zoey sent a thumbs-up emoji, and Mira complimented the spicy flavor, so Rumi has clearly passed this social interaction and can ride the high of a successful conversation. Life is good.

Well, life could be better, especially if Zoey (and Mira) were here in this cramped kitchen waiting for the three minutes until the food is deemed edible. Rumi suddenly feels wretchedly lonely and immediately presses the video call button in the group chat, wanting to see Zoey as soon as possible.

(She remembers Jinu commenting that she and Zoey were like rabbits and would die if left alone too long. Rumi figured the stuffed bear plush she chucked at his head was enough of a response then.)

Blessedly, her video call was answered, with Mira in one window and Zoey in the other; both looked mildly confused. Rumi’s heart warmed, and she smiled softly, her grin widening when she saw it reflected on the other two, though Mira’s was small and still confused.

“Rumi? Is something wrong?” She asked, looking around the empty kitchen for possible offenders or a reason why Rumi called all of a sudden. Zoey doesn’t ask and instead leans closer to the camera lens,

“Rumi, I’ll be home in a couple of hours, set up a nest on the couch, and we’ll watch the Galapagos island documentary, okay?”

“Is that the one with the giant turtles and crazy birds?” Mira asks

“Yes! Though it’s inhabited by giant tortoises, the green sea turtle does pop by to lay eggs on the shores of the island, but most of the reptiles on the island are mainly tortoises and lizards.”

“Sick.”

“Ooh, Mira, you wanna come over tonight? We’ll have a sleepover and everything, like last time, except you won’t come in smelling like jungle juice unless you want to.”

“You sure? I’m down, but if you don’t want a third wheel, I can find something else to do.”

“I love tricycles! Right, Rumi?”

Rumi snapped out of her dopey smiling daze and nodded, “Yep, Zoey loves tricycles. I once saw her get up to like twenty kph in three seconds on one after Baby dared her to for the ‘gram’,” Rumi used a hand to make quotation marks, “I think she left tire marks on the sidewalk.”

“We’d have one if we had the space in the apartment,” Zoey nodded sagely. Rumi shakes her head emphatically, but she knows that if Zoey pointed her puppy-dog eyes at her, she’d crumble like a sand castle to a wave of cute.

“Well, I’ve got this short job that sucks,” Rumi can faintly hear someone calling Mira’s name in the background, “But I should be done before like...seven. Anyways, my break’s done, see you later.”

With that, she exited the video chat, leaving only Zoey on the other end, but considering that Rumi started the chat with the express purpose of seeing her girlfriend, she was perfectly happy.

“Hey stranger,” Rumi smiled and wiggled her eyebrows in the way she knows that causes Zoey to laugh, and smiled wider when Zoey responded in the expected way. After a few more chuckles, Zoey refocused on the screen,

“Hey, cutie, you doing okay? Like really?”

Rumi nodded, “Just got lonely all of a sudden, but I’m fine.”

“Well, you’ll be fine after a bear hug or five later tonight, I can always tell when my girl’s wanting the good stuff.”

The good stuff being cuddling, that would be nice; if they weren’t expecting company, then the good stuff might be something else that is also nice. Very nice.

Now all that’s left to do is wait; Rumi just finished a deadline when Zoey walked in with the potential axe-murderer Mira in tow, and the freelance job that Bobby set her up with for the month was effectively over aside from tweaks and edits.

Maybe Rumi can grab a couple more shifts at the flower shop Celine runs; too much time without something to occupy her attention leads to a very lonely Rumi. Plus, it’s nice to spend time around Celine, not talking or looking at much else aside from plants, a relaxing activity.

In fact, she bet that Celine ordered a new batch of exotic plants; now that would be a party. A quiet, restrained party that’s mostly playing string music in between rounds of ’90s pop. Sometimes her mother swings by during one of her few times when she’s not busy to annoy her mother-aunt and cover Rumi in gifts. Her mother may be flaky, but it’s nice when she visits.

Rumi shot off a quick text asking if Celine could use a hand sometime later in the week and got an affirmative text from her, who also uses the correct spelling and grammar, just without a signature line like Rumi’s texts.

She then looked at the lukewarm tteokbokki and started chewing the cooling rice cake meal, enjoying the burning on her tongue and the satisfying squish of the rice cake noodles under her teeth. Rumi should get more of this flavor, based on what Mira said about her enjoying the brand.

Of course, she had to swallow before the rice cakes got too sticky and started falling apart, but maybe that’s just part of the fun.

Technically, Rumi doesn’t ever have to work thanks to the trust that her mother and Celine set up for her, but aside from the amount for rent and bills, Rumi prefers to work for her funds. If she had the chance she’d take care of Zoey fully but the shorter girl vehemently refused; Zoey soon after figured that Rumi’s spine was like spun sugar in the face of her puppy-dog eyes and convinced Rumi to just take care of the bills and that Zoey will help contribute to the apartment even if Rumi could theoretically have her favorite girl living in the figurative lap of luxury.

So! The best Rumi can do is ensure a steady living environment for her rising DJ ‘skater girl’ and get her fancy gifts when she isn’t looking. That way Zoey will technically not be a ‘sugar baby’, whatever that means. Zoey specifically asked Rumi not to look into it, so she assumes it’s something bad somehow.

(Like sugar could be bad, pah)

Over the next few hours, Rumi cuddled one of Zoey’s oldest turtle plushes in her lap while she responded to emails and started outlining an essay about an obscure lily that’s on the verge of becoming endangered. She had all her research done, with plenty of references on hand in case she felt she was not being wordy enough.

She only snapped back from the outline when she heard the door unlock, sharp in the muffled quiet of focus. Rumi turned around with her swivel chair, only to see Zoey practically shambling into the entryway, sliding out of her shoes, to slump over the backrest of the couch and moan piteously.

She looked a mess, dried coffee stains all over her probably ruined uniform shirt and apron. Rumi should order a new set of both, but only after soothing her beloved.

“How can I help?” Rumi asked, her way of greeting her obviously distraught girlfriend,

“Rumi, I’m sad. Can you show me your abs?” Zoey’s voice warbled out.

Like Rumi would ever deny Zoey anything, “Sure, do you want my bra on or off?”

Zoey thought for a moment, “On...we still need to head out for groceries.” Reasonable enough.

Rumi immediately shucks her shirt and plops it onto the couch armrest and comes closer so her girlfriend can trace along her lines, humming in satisfaction.

Time passes by, with Zoey groping her girlfriend’s abs and Rumi petting her already mussed-up hair. After a few more minutes, Rumi gently pokes Zoey’s face,

“Hey, Zoey?”

“Mrrpmh?” Replied Zoey, breathing wet air into Rumi’s stomach.

“If we’re gonna go grocery shopping, maybe you should change clothes?”

Zoey whines before burying herself into Rumi’s stomach, grumbling before pulling away like it’s a herculean task. Begrudgingly, she pulls away, petting at Rumi’s now slightly damp abs before floating into the bedroom, looking longingly back a few times.

While waiting for a redressed girlfriend (Rumi doesn’t go to peek because then they wouldn’t get to groceries until after the sun falls, and no fresh vegetables would be available), Rumi zones out on the couch until the door was knocked.

Still half zoned out, Rumi opens it on habit. There’s Mira already walking in like a pre-invited vampire and on autopilot, Rumi closes the door behind her and turns around to look at Mira, who’s digging through her bag,

“Hey, so Zoey asked me to come over for-” She starts to say something before glancing up at Rumi, who’s just standing there.

She stops, she stares.

Rumi raises her eyebrows and nods in the way that indicates she’s listening; despite this social cue being executed flawlessly, Mira is just staring at...Rumi’s uncovered stomach. Ah.

Rumi lunges for the wolf blanket that’s on the backrest of the couch and then wraps it around her shoulders like a shawl of shame.

Her face flushed, “Sorry about that,” Rumi apologized, but Mira, seemingly snapping out of some sort of trance, shook her head.

“No need to apologize,” Mira responded, “Honestly, it’s my fault for just waltzing in like I owned the place.”

Rumi watched as Mira seemed to curl into herself, her otherwise impeccable posture hunched over a little, and placed her hand onto Mira’s shoulder.

“When we said you could come over whenever, both Zoey and I meant it. We’re happy to have you here with us,” Rumi said, making sure to look at Mira’s dark, intense eyes to show that she’s being forthright, “Honestly, I just hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

Mira shook her head vigorously, “Nope, no feelings of discomfort here, surprise absolutely, but I’m not uncomfortable; are you?”

Rumi thought about how she’s shirtless around a near-stranger in her house, and aside from acknowledging the weird situation, she wasn’t in any particular distress or discomfort. She shook her head in response to Mira’s question.

“Rumi, don’t forget that- oh hey Mira!” Zoey chirped, walking out of the bedroom with a new shirt on, “Glad you could make it, ready to get your groceries on?” She asked, seemingly oblivious to her shirtless girlfriend and her new friend existing awkwardly in the same room.

Rumi thought about bringing it up before figuring it would be better to just get onto the shopping part of the day, before she calcifies and turns to dust from sheer ‘cringe’ as Zoey would describe it. She shucks the wolf-blanket-cape from her shoulders, and with an audience that’s not even hiding their staring, slides her shirt back on, a blue cat with some sort of pun.

You gotta be kitten me, it states from Rumi’s chest. The humor is overflowing, and it bolsters Rumi to the next social interaction that looms in the room.

“Right, Zoey, do you have the reusable bags? Mira, do you wanna borrow some?” Rumi snaps to attention, keeping track of the various food items they were out of and the household items they were low on.

Specifically, laundry detergent; Zoey decided to wash the bear costume before returning it to the scene where Zoey worked, and they met Mira. For some reason, Rumi wanted to keep the thing, but reason pointed out that the bear costume wouldn’t fit her or Zoey properly, and even if it did, they didn’t have a reason to wear it.

Briefly, very briefly, Rumi thought about asking Mira to wear it again; one of her fondest memories with her Mother was when she got to interact with the mascots at the theme parks. The rest of the park was often tiring, loud, and unpleasant, but Rumi loved taking pictures and hugging the mascots. Even if she didn’t know which mascot represented what work, the plush and slightly scratchy texture of the cloth made her childhood brain hum.

Luckily, before she could make the insane suggestion, Zoey had already returned the costume, and they went on with their day.

Worst comes to worst, she can just buy another costume for Zoey to wear; it certainly wouldn’t be the weirdest thing the skater has done. Just earlier this month, she helped Jinu capture a strange blue cat. Wearing a costume for cuddles wouldn’t be a big deal, in fact, it wouldn’t be a big deal considering the role-play she would have-

“Rumi? Rumi, zone back in, we’re ready to go,” Zoey waved her hand in front of Rumi’s eyes, causing her to blink back into focus. Mira was staring at her, head slightly tilted and eyebrows quirked in an angle that Rumi assumed indicated confusion.

“Oh! How swell,” Rumi smiles widely at the sight of the two, which only deepens the tilt that Mira’s head has taken. Her confusion has likely only deepened, but Rumi is too busy feeling the surge of giddiness. Practically unprompted, but when joy comes, it’s dumb to stifle it.

This joy simmered all the walk to the preferred grocery store, the one tucked in between the pizza place that Zoey loves, and the bookstore that Rumi likes to wander on Sundays.

There’s another grocery store that’s larger and closer, but it’s also more crowded; that’s not good. Rumi prefers the walk where she gets to hold her girlfriend’s hand the entire time and the quiet and dimly lit store that waits at the end.

Oddly enough, even though she’s holding Zoey’s hand like she loves to, she’s staring at Mira’s hand that swings lazily at her sides up ahead. Wonder what that could mean?

Chapter Text

Zoey immediately commandeered a cart, primarily for the purpose of riding it while Rumi pushed it behind her. Mira walked beside them, peeking occasionally as Zoey made inexplicable car noises when Rumi turned the cart into aisles or when she paused to pick up items.

“Do you want to be on the front of the cart?” Rumi asked, gesturing towards the area in question. Mira looked at the front, then, after working her jaw side to side for a bit, she tentatively climbed on.

“I’m not blocking the view, am I?” Mira asked, her eyebrows furrowed with what Rumi interprets as apprehension. Rumi looked at the tall woman now carefully hunched on the front of the cart and shook her head decisively.

The grocery store is basically empty at this time of day, normally favored by early birds and night owls more than daytime shoppers, and Rumi knows the layout like she knows Zoey’s freckles.

Mira shifts when Rumi starts pushing the cart forward, but as Zoey begins talking about the various snacks they’re to eat tonight, Mira relaxes and focuses on the smaller woman nestled in Rumi’s arms. Rumi ‘drives’ the two around, picking up the dry ingredients until they arrive at the produce section, and both disembark.

Rumi briefly notes the brown roots peeking at the top of the taller woman’s head and frowns a little; someone as fashionable as Mira wouldn’t lose track of her dying schedule. Rumi herself didn’t have to keep track, but during a brief stint of mania, Zoey tried to dye her hair blue. They had to replace the sink.

It took a lot more effort than Rumi expected, and ultimately Zoey declared it to be not worth it, and she growled when Rumi suggested getting it professionally dyed. Literally growled.

With that in mind, it is somewhat funny that Zoey cannot remember the schedule for herself,f but she has anniversary dates for the first time Rumi cleaned a bathroom by herself, and Rumi’s extensive hair care days. Despite her arms not being able to help more than half an hour into braiding, Zoey still tries until her arms flop around comically.

‘Wacky inflatable arm tube time’ she calls it. Rumi wonders briefly whether or not adding Mira to her braiding time would help or hurt the length and amount of sweat involved. Rumi shakes her head and focuses on the here and now.

The here and now involves Zoey making various food puns while Mira snort-laughs. Rumi turns her head and looks at the fresh fruit section before picking up some yellow melons; they’re out in the supermarket later than expected, considering the time of year. Rumi weighs the two in her hands, figuring which would be better for snacking, and lifts them to sniff, enjoying the light, sweet fragrance.

“Hey baby, nice melons,” Zoey’s voice comes from behind Rumi, and Rumi’s stance adjusted as her shorter girlfriend slung her arm over Rumi’s shoulder,

“Thank you,” Rumi says before leaning down further with the intentions of smooching.

Zoey nods sagely, still unaware of the soon-arriving smooch, before grinning impishly, “The fruit looks pretty good, too.”

From the bread section, Mira snort-laughs.

Ah. Aha. Zoey was referring to Rumi’s breasts. That’s funny. Time for further witty banter.

“Yours are also rather nice,” Rumi parries, feeling a shot of adrenaline from this excellent response. She is so winning this social interaction.

She also catches a glance that Mira, perhaps unintentionally, throws at Zoey’s low-cut band shirt. Rumi follows the glance to make an obvious stare of her own and watches a light blush bloom on Zoey’s face.

(Wonder if she caught Mira staring as well.)

“Can’t believe I’ve got a pervert for a girlfriend,” Zoey pouts at Rumi, reaching out to punish Rumi for her less-than-wandering gaze.

Rumi’s face gets poked by a now blushing girlfriend as she playfully glares at her; Rumi knows that this is a playful moment because Zoey is actively fighting off a smile as she tries to be serious, and she also knows the way to fully break her.

Rumi seriously wiggles her eyebrows and watches as her girlfriend unravels into giggles. Mission accomplished flawlessly.

She then turns her gaze to Mira, who is holding a few small spices and a package of rolls with a soft smile for some reason. Zoey turns to look at her and lights up with another mischievous grin,

“Hey Mira! Nice buns!” Zoey says, smirk renewed.

“Oh, thank fuck all my years of dance have granted me just that,” Mira shoots back, deadpan.

Rumi is somewhat confident that they’re joking, but just in case Mira actually believes this, it’s Rumi’s job to combat this insecurity. Rumi steps towards Mira and gently grasps her shoulder,

“Don’t worry, you have a great many more attractive features than that, along with an enjoyable presence.” She assured the pink-haired woman, who blinked in response.

(Is she not fully reassured?) Rumi looked at Zoey, who was looking at the two with a mildly unfamiliar smile, closed-mouth. She doesn’t look displeased, though, so that’s good. After catching her eye, Zoey began wriggling her eyebrows for some reason.

Rumi then turned to look at Mira, who was just blinking, slowly. Rumi, remembering cat body language, blinked back equally slowly before casually sliding her hand off of Mira’s shoulder.

Successful social interaction over, they went on with the rest of the shopping, with Rumi rushing ahead of the other two with her card drawn and parked at the payment area. She has won yet again; the highs of this evening cannot be beheld without sunglasses.

The walk back to the apartment felt shorter than usual; Rumi would normally be holding hands with her girlfriend, but instead, they were all holding the various foodstuffs and items gained from their grocery run.

Specifically, Rumi and Mira were holding the food, with Mira insisting on carrying the two heavy bags and leaving the lighter one. Zoey had picked up a capybara stuffed animal in what she deemed an ‘Elvis’ costume, which she plans to give to Bobby for no reason. It’s not his birthday or an anniversary, so the reasons why befuddle Rumi.

Not that Bobby in particular needs a reason to get a little gift, Rumi’s just wondering if Zoey is trying to bribe their part-time agent for something special. Perhaps a turtle-themed pool party that Zoey heard of.

(Come to think of it, that would be an excellent party idea for Zoey’s birthday.)

Zoey is the first through the apartment door, holding it very considerately while Mira and Rumi shuffle through, precious cargo in hand. Rather than launch the new capybara into her stuffed animal pile, she sets it gently on the somewhat disused table that’s mostly holding Zoey’s other sticky notes and flouts over to Rumi’s office area to borrow one of her purple post-its, scribbling in her usual esoteric script and smacking it onto the capybara’s face.

“There! Rumi, remind me tomorrow to call Bobby so we can meet up and I can give him the plushie,” Zoey says, pirouetting into the kitchen to help put up, or rather steal, some of the new snacks and launch them onto the couch.

Zoey’s favorite shrimp-flavored chips land on top of the wolf blanket, making the headless wolf look like some horrible shrimp-wolf hybrid. Science has gone too far.

“Sure thing,” Rumi replies, putting up the small bag of rice next to an almost empty but identical-looking bag of rice, “Hey Mira, do you wanna come with us and meet Bobby?”

Mira’s perfectly styled eyebrows quirk, “Who’s Bobby?”

“He’s the best!” Shouts Zoey from across the apartment, though her focus is currently on stacking the snacks in a Tetris-like manner.

“He’s kinda like our agent-uncle,” Rumi elaborated. She’s known the man since childhood, as he mostly dealt with Celine’s businesses, but he’s scaled back and mostly pops in to either take Rumi and Zoey out for corn dogs, or to bring them little jobs.

“I’ve known him forever, you’ll like him,” She finished lamely, now thinking about Bobby and how long she’s just had him in her life.

When she first started dating Zoey he offered to pull back from his retirement to help the two get famous in their respective fields, but Rumi still remembers how he collapsed when she was a teenager. She doesn’t want to experience that again, though a terrible, selfish part of her was glad it happened as she felt...pressure from Celine to follow in her mother’s footsteps as an idol; it’s not like Rumi hates singing and dancing (though it takes longer for her to get the moves right), it’s just…

Rumi’s not her mom, and Celine wasn’t quite getting it back then until Bobby had to go to the hospital, and she noticed how Rumi instinctively shifted away when Celine walked in the room.

Celine was so distraught that after Bobby was sent to recover in a very swanky spa, she had her and Rumi fly over to America, where Miyeong had set up a family therapist visit.

Rumi placed the melons (She got both after an internal debate) on the counter and, after a moment, got the one knife in the kitchen to start sawing one open. Mira stared at the action for about twenty seconds as Rumi managed her way through the rind before approaching her with her hands out and gently grasping the knife still held in Rumi’s hand.

“You’re holding the knife like a serial killer,” Mira said, obviously lying about Rumi’s skill with the knife. “How about I take care of the melon before we have to get a doctor?”

Rumi looked at the multiple stab marks that the melon held from Rumi trying to cut it exactly in half before the dang fruit moved and shrugged. She guessed that Mira was just wanting to help and was not, in fact, ‘dissing’ Rumi’s very impressive skill with blades. Rumi should know; she fences regularly and probably knows blade safety the most of the trio.

Anything to bond with her aunt-mother, Celine. That’s also how she picked up baking; what a wealth of knowledge Rumi holds.

Except what she’s supposed to do when her new friend has smooth and strong hands with knuckles that shift ever so slightly when she adjusts the falling blade on the melon chunks, the action so-

“Mesmerized?” Zoey’s voice purred in Rumi’s ear, causing a minor startle before she turned her head to look at her oddly smug-looking girlfriend. Rumi tilted her head, wordlessly inquiring her to elaborate. Instead of answering the unspoken question, Zoey raised herself on her tippy-toes and kissed Rumi’s cheek. Rumi leaned into the kiss, enough to the point where it looked like she was solely supported by the shorter woman’s lips.

Very truthful on a day-to-day basis. Rumi yelped when Zoey suddenly ducked down a little, causing Rumi to lose her balance a little. She was barely keeping it with the help of her desperately windmilling arms, but Zoey, in her infinite evilness, poked Rumi in a ticklish spot and threw her off her rhythm.

Rumi knew that she was going to be caught by Zoey or squish her trying, so her efforts to course-correct were mostly for show until she heard a faint clatter and strong hands scoop her up by her armpits.

Mira grunted a little as she lifted Rumi like a wayward cat before setting her properly on her feet while both Zoey and Rumi gaped at her.

“There,” Mira nods definitively, “Next time you should roughhouse next to the couch so you’ve got more than counters and your tiny girlfriend to soften your fall.”

“I’m not tiny!” Zoey protested, tinily.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Rumi nodded, before grinning, “You’re pretty strong, that’s another attractive feature,” Rumi added some playful eyebrow wiggling for good measure.

Mira’s response, instead of recognizing Rumi’s genius callback to the grocery store, was to close her mouth with a slightly audible click and then speed walk over to the already cut-up melon chunks to cut them smaller for some reason. Well, now’s a good chance to use up some of the novelty toothpicks that Zoey’s gathered.

Rumi reached past Mira, who stilled in her melon massacre, and grabbed the sandwich bag filled with sword-shaped toothpicks. Rumi then placed the bag on the counter and tilted her head thoughtfully before reaching around Mira again to grab some plates that were bought for guests; they had charming floral designs around the rims and felt suitably fancy.

Unfortunately, they were in a bit further in the cabinet than usual, so Rumi had to lean into Mira, who was gripping the counter with visible force and...holding her breath? How odd.

“Almost there…” Rumi muttered, her fingers catching around the stack and gradually tugging them forward, before Mira abruptly reached up and grabbed the plates and forcefully pushed them at Rumi.

Rumi looked at the stack of fancy plates, then at a red-faced Mira and smiled widely, “Thanks, Mira!” she said, beaming before placing the plates on the counter next to the novelty toothpicks.

Mira only replied in a funny noise, but Rumi remembered the promise that Zoey said about the documentary, so she went to the couch to pull said documentary up on the ‘flix that nobody except Rumi calls it.

Zoey was already lounging on the couch, turned towards the kitchen with an absent grin on her face,

“You’re really trying to kill her, huh? I respect the grind.”

Rumi blinks blandly at her confusing girlfriend being confusing before lying on top of her totally-not-tiny girlfriend, enjoying the small ‘oof’ she gets in response. After some halfhearted wiggling to escape, Zoey succumbs to her fate and wraps her arms around Rumi’s stomach.

“Comfortable?” Mira asks, carrying a plate piled high with melon pieces and toothpicks already stabbed into them.

Oh no, Rumi failed at hosting; she’s failed the hosting grade and will have to be shunned for one billion years for failing at hosting.

“Very,” Zoey says from underneath Rumi’s hair, muffled in a way that tells Rumi she’s probably going to have saliva somewhere in her braid. Zoey unwraps one of her arms to wave in Mira’s direction; Rumi mimics the action before sliding off her squished girlfriend.

Rumi then grabs the plate and negotiates Mira into the cuddle pile before clicking on the documentary, nudging her chin into Mira’s slightly bony shoulder to get her to settle against Zoey more comfortably, which she does with some trepidation.

With everyone settled properly, Zoey launches the wolf blanket over the trio, with Rumi trying to dodge the plate from the blanket-net attack. She succeeds with only one melon casualty that she passes over to Zoey, aware of her ‘five-second rule’ she has with foodstuffs.

She then passes the melon plate onto Mira’s lap, who holds it with care as the three begin snacking. Rumi probably should have remembered to get some drinks, but in case Mira really gets thirsty, there is the water bottle that Zoey lodged into the couch earlier today before heading off to work.

Perhaps the dehydration caused her bad day earlier; scary stuff, dehydration.

Rumi relaxed fully into the cuddle pile, listening to the narration and Zoey’s occasional fun facts, feeling Mira relaxing too, until she was all but boneless on top of Zoey and with her legs stretched over Rumi. Rumi shifted the blanket more fully on her toned legs and patted them before slumping against the pink-haired woman.

The trio only moved after the credits rolled, with Zoey popping into the bathroom for a ‘wicked whiz’ and a change into her pajamas. Rumi stayed behind to stretch out her back and arms, shifting to wake up her foot, which fell asleep during the documentary.

Rumi looked over to Mira, who was frowning at her phone, “Is something wrong?” She asked.

“Nothing, it’s just my landlord calling over and over; he’s been doing this all week, calling to just fuss for no reason. I think he’s trying to annoy me into canceling the lease early,” Mira’s voice was flat, but Rumi detected some exhaustion.

Rumi knew exactly what to suggest for both bonding and relaxation; it was a risky move this early into knowing someone, but she was already so attached to Mira that she figured there wasn’t any harm in it. Heck, Mira might enjoy it even more than Rumi did when she first started with Zoey!

“You should come with Zoey and me to the bathhouse,” Rumi proposed.

It was the perfect way to bond with someone, Zoey told her that when they first met, and it makes perfect sense. What better way to bare your soul than to bare your body?