Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Huntrix didn’t enter the nightclub so much as get absorbed by it: bass like a heartbeat, confetti stuck to everybody’s shins, a whole booth roped off with a paper sign that eventually had “RESERVED FOR THE MENACES" written on it. Zoey wrote it. Mira had underlined “menaces” three times.

They’d finished the last stop of their comeback tour two hours ago. Rumi still had eyeliner on, soft black crescents under her eyes that kept laughing at nothing. Zoey already swapped her stage boots for white sneakers with little glitter stars. Mira was in a bomber jacket and burdened with the responsibility of being the 'sober one'- until the first “just one” drink became… several, to say the least.

Somewhere between just one drink and then 'one more can't hurt,' Rumi realized she was actually going to be the responsible one this time around.

Not that she minded too much. Her girls made it worth it after all. 

Zoey swiveled in her seat and turned toward Rumi with the laser focus of a cat spotting a red dot. Their lead singer froze, surprised by the sudden intensity. 

“Excuse me,” Zoey said, leaning in as if she’d just discovered flirting five minutes ago and was determined to speed-run it and set a record. “Wassup, baby? You’re very pretty~ Do you… come here often?”

Rumi blinked. “Babe?”

Zoey put a hand to her chest. “You think I’m a babe? Wow. Bold. I like your confidence. What’s your name?”

Rumi held in her laugh, watching as a familiar head of hot pink hair approached. There was a slight stumble to her step. 

Mira slid in on the other side with the same energy as a valet parallel-parking a yacht. “Pardon my friend. She is foolish and weak to beauty.” Mira lifted her glass like she was toasting to the finest victory in history. “I, on the other hand, am sophisticated and immune. Also, you are exquisite. Would you like to dance?”

Rumi covered her mouth to hide the smile that threatened to blow her cover. “Mmm. Tempting. But my, uh, girlfriends might get jealous.”

Zoey’s eyes went cartoon-wide. “Girlfriends? You have two? As in multiple? That’s… that’s amazing. Tell them I’m very respectful and also available for- uhh for- ugh, damn it. What’s the word, Mir?”

Mira, regal and earnestly smashed, searched the ceiling for answers- nodding as if God himself gave the answer. “Courtship.”

“Right,” Zoey said solemnly. “Courtship. Unless they’re mean and don’t give you water between drinks. Then I will...” she made a very unthreatening fist, “...file a complaint.”

Rumi tried not to giggle. It came out anyway.

Mira leaned closer, conspiratorial. “If they’re foolish enough to leave such a goddess unattended, I vow to rectify it with… compliments.” She squinted, rubbing at her eyes. Rumi mourned how difficult it would be to get her contacts out later. “And a chair. Do you need a chair?”

“I have one,” Rumi said gently. “You brought it to me.”

Zoey gasped. “Courtesy! She values courtesy. Mira, we’re winning!"

“You are,” Rumi said, touching Zoey’s cheek with two fingers. “In fact, I think you might be my favorite girlfriends.”

Zoey and Mira froze at the same time. Zoey mouthed, girlfriends?! at Mira. Mira mouthed back, we proceed with delicacy, and promptly knocked over an empty glass with her elbow.

They took turns trying to impress her. Zoey offered to buy “one responsible bottle of water, perhaps several,” and Mira, king of the quiet flex, produced a hair tie from her wrist like it was an impossible magic trick and redid Rumi’s hair with reverence as it threatened to be defeated by the evil humidity.

Every two minutes, one of them forgot they were Already Dating and reset to Level 1 Flirting.

“Hi,” Zoey said again, holding out her hand like a stranger. “I’m Zoey. Big fan.”

“I’m Mira,” Mira followed, shaking the same hand. “Not to be dramatic, but I would die for you, hypothetical stranger.”

Rumi just… beamed. Oh, this was absolutely hilarious. “I’m Rumi,” she played along. “And I’m wildly into you two.”

“Yesss,” Zoey hiss-whispered, triumphant, like they’d cracked a boss level. She turned to Mira and grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking the taller woman comically. “Mira, she’s wildly into us.”

Mira, noble and tipsy, lowered her voice. “Steady, soldier. Do not spook the angel.”

Rumi tried not to lose it, “The angel is trying not to cry from laughing right now.”

In the end, they danced (Zoey- extremely bouncy, Mira- smooth although stumbling a little, and Rumi- effortlessly moving, since she was the responsible one it seemed), they overshared (Zoey to the bartender, “We have crushes, my dude. She needs the best drinks.”), and because the tour adrenaline coupled with champagne is chaos.

Zoey posted a blurry story of a single, glowing eye that was definitely Rumi’s, captioned: “who is she why is she perfect, can she sit on my face?” with seven star emojis. Mira reposted it with “do not perceive. only worship. then she will sit on our face.”

Bobby texted two minutes later, already stressed and worried- Are you guys ok? Do Zoey and Mira know they're posting on their Huntrix accounts?
Rumi, already on cleanup duty, simply messaged back- They're drunk. I got it, don't worry. 👍 deleting now. (She archived the posts, toggled comments off, and switched their accounts into “rest” mode with a single, terrifyingly competent flurry of taps.)

But not before taking her own screen-shots, of course. 

Every time she confiscated a phone, another materialized. Where were they getting them? Who kept handing Mira a second phone?? Where did Zoey find a laptop?

Zoey, in the replies to her own archived post (how did she even find it?)- do u think she likes us?
Mira, replying- i would bet the whole empire the pretty lady does
Zoey: we don’t have an empire?
Mira: then i will acquire one for her dumbass

Rumi, from the booth, tears of laughter in her eyes, typing on Mira’s phone- Please stop pledging feudalism for me on main.
Mira: who is main and does she approve of our devotion??????

Eventually Rumi bribed them into drinking water, slid fries across the table like she was feeding very handsome, very dumb baby birds, and got them bundled into a car. She kissed them every time they protested, and soon enough the two of them were too kissed out to resist being herded back towards their home.

In the back seat, Zoey dozed on Rumi’s shoulder while Mira, forehead pressed to the window, murmured, “We should ask the pretty girl out,” and Rumi just whispered back to her, “Don't worry, you already did. Months ago,” and kissed her temple.

“Success!" Mira hissed like a snake and pumped her fist at the victory, eyes shining with a triumphant gleam, and then she promptly fell asleep.

Rumi sighed. At least she'd been working out. Carrying them into the elevator shouldn't be an issue. 

Sunlight. Regret. Two women star-fished on the living room rug like they’d lost a fight with gravity and a blanket. Zoey groaned into a throw pillow. “I have… one... one brain cell. It is screaming and refusing to work.”

Mira didn’t move, groaning into the ground. “Everything is loud. Including my thoughts.”

Rumi floated in, gentle as a nurse and smug as a cat, with three glasses of water, two electrolyte drinks, and a plate of dry toast.

“Rise and hydrate yourselves, my beloved disasters.”

Zoey peeked through her fingers, before making a pitiful whining sound and covering her face once more. “…are you mad, Rums?”

“Mad? No.” Rumi set the tray down. “Amused? Absolutely. Mildly haunted? Also yes.”

Mira cracked an eye, her face filled with dread. “What did we do?”

Rumi’s smile did dangerous, sparkling things to their hearts. “Oh, not much. Flirted with me like you didn’t know me. Offered me a chair. Vowed to acquire an empire.”

Mira’s eyes closed again, unfazed at the information. “Ah. Thursday behavior then.”

Zoey sat up too fast and immediately regretted it, holding back a heave as her stomach revolted. “Social media,” she said in a tiny voice. “Did we...?”

Rumi held up a hand. “All harmless. I locked your accounts for the night, cleaned up the stories, and scheduled cute, sober posts for this morning.”

Zoey blinked. “What did-" She winced like she was scared, "What did we post?”

Rumi pulled out her phone and scrolled, trying not to cackle. “Well, you reposted a close-up of my eyeball with ‘who is she’ energy. Mira reblogged with ‘only worship.’ Then you replied to yourselves about wishing I were your girlfriend, at which point you, in the replies, started flirting with each other about also wishing you were each other’s girlfriends too.”

Mira looked personally victimized by this information. “We publicly longed for our own partner while longing for our own partner.”

“Correct,” Rumi said kindly. “It’s just layers of idiocy. Like those parfaits Zoey likes.”

Zoey face-planted into the pillow again. “Our fans...!”

“Think you’re both cute and very in love,” Rumi said, perching on the edge of the coffee table. “A few edits have already surfaced of the ‘do not perceive, only worship’ post. One is set to pipe organ music. I favorited it.”

Mira made a noise like a tragic violin. “I am never drinking again.”

Rumi patted her knee. “You say that every time.”

Zoey reached out, fingers finding the hem of Rumi’s shirt like a kid tugging a curtain. “Did we… at least flirt well?”

Rumi considered it for a moment, pretending to ponder the question. “You flirted like two golden retrievers who borrowed the world's cheesiest thesaurus. It was catastrophic and adorable all at once.”

Mira, attempting to maintain her dignity, asked, “Did it work?”

Rumi leaned over and kissed her, soft and quick. “Yes, babe. It worked”

Zoey peeked up, eyes hopeful yet so dulled by the hangover to end all hangovers. “And me?”

Rumi kissed her, too, gentle on the brow. “Of course, baby. Always.”

They exhaled as one, shoulders dropping in relief. As if the news that their drunken flirting still worked was everything they needed to hear. 

Rumi handed over the electrolyte drinks, watching to make sure they drank them. “In conclusion- you survived the tour, dragged me to a nightclub to get drunk, got drunk yourselves, became menaces with the flirting, nearly gave our sponsers a heart attack, and I saved the brand from your drunken shit-posting." She laughed lightly, "All things considered, and your girlfriend-status remains intact.”

“Girlfriend-status,” Mira repeated, amused despite herself. She rubbed a hand over her haggard face.

Zoey drank the water. Made a face. Then drank again. “We’re sorry you had to chaperone. I didn't mean to get that drunk.”

Rumi shrugged. “I got a front-row seat to my hot girlfriends trying to pick me up as if we weren't already dating. Honestly? Ten out of ten experience, that was really funny.”

Mira squinted at the ceiling, like she was battling her hangover in one-on-one combat, “We should take you on a proper date. To make up for it.”

Zoey brightened. “Like a sober one. With food that is not fries at midnight or shitty nightclub food."

Rumi pretended to think hard for a moment. “Hm. I suppose I could be persuaded.”

Mira reached for her phone, froze, then put it back down. Her drunken muscle memory was lethal, “We will not be announcing it on main.”

“Correct,” Rumi said primly. “Main has suffered enough.”

Zoey nuzzled into Rumi’s thigh like a cat seeking forgiveness. “Thank you for doing damage control. And for loving us even when we become absolute menaces apparently.” Zoey grinned stupidly, "It's just hard to hold back when there's such a pretty girl in front of me."

Rumi threaded her fingers through Zoey’s hair and tucked a blanket around Mira. “Don't worry about it, hot-stuff. That’s my job- taking care of the younger members." Rumi teased them, smiling at the offended look Mira sent her way. She handed the girl another water, "That, and making sure the social-media menaces hydrate.”

Mira’s mouth curved. “Social-Media Menaces?”

“Working title,” Rumi said, deadpan and failing to keep a straight face. “Focus group gave it five stars.”

Zoey laughed into the pillow. “I’m going to repost your favorite organ-music edit with a caption.”

“No,” Rumi and Mira said together- PR training kicking in for once.

Zoey’s grin turned wicked. “Fine. I’ll just text it to you two. Privately. With hearts. And whatever other pick-up lines I apparently didn't get to try."

Rumi sighed, smiling helplessly. She loved them so much, “You’re both lucky you’re so indescribably hot.”

Mira reached for Rumi’s hand and squeezed. Zoey wrapped her arms around Rumi’s waist and squeezed from the other side.

“Correction,” Mira said, voice warm. “You’re indescribably hot.”

“And ours,” Zoey added, sleepy and smug. "You're ours, Rumi. Ours to flirt with as we please."

Rumi rolled her eyes in the general direction of heaven and kissed them each again, slow and fond. “Drink your electrolytes, menace duo,” she said, soft with love. “Then we can plan a date that does not end with me confiscating six phones.”

"Six?" Mira blinked away her shock and lifted her water bottle in a toast. “To drunken flirting.”

Zoey clinked her water bottle against Mira's. “To forgetting Rumi's already our princess.”

Rumi clinked hers last. She rolled her eyes and smiled indulgently, “To me changing your passwords.”

All three chuckled, “Cheers!"

Ten minutes later, a screech echoed out of Zoey's room. 

"Rumi!?" The maknae screamed in horror, "Why didn't tell us we talked about you sitting on our faces on main!?"

Chapter Text

They’d sworn a sacred oath after the Comeback Night Fiasco: water between drinks, phones put away, and Mira in charge of exits since she swore not to get drunk this time.

Cut to three weeks later, a private karaoke lounge beaming a glowing purple neon, a cake shaped like their beloved Derpy with a Sussie candle on top, and a table full of friends and fellow Idols singing the world’s loudest “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” to her.

Rumi started the night with a halo around her head- angelic and in control.

She ended it with a crooked crown (party hat), pink, blue, and purple glitter on her collarbone, coupled with the sort of smile that made strangers fall in love with public transit ads. She’d been saintly about hydration between drinks, until three separate people shouted “SPEECH!” and someone (probably Zoey's gremlin ass) handed her a flute of something celebratory and definitely illegal-looking to her already buzzed mind.

“Okay,” Rumi said, standing on the booth bench like a benevolent monarch. “Speech. You’re all so-” She made a gesture that somehow indicated they were her beloved chaos gremlins, “and I’m-” she touched her chest, wiping away an honest-to-the-gods tear, “twenty-five and dangerous!”

Cheers. Confetti poppers. Someone's rogue kazoo. Rumi basked in the wildness around her, patterns pulsing in beat to the music. She spread her arms like a goddess overlooking her domain, and gave a bow that nearly ended with her doing a barrel-roll right off the booth's bench. 

Mira clapped, amused and watchful as their friends helped Rumi steady herself. The singer leaned down and gave them all some friendly pats on the shoulder, PR training kicking in as she went around and thanked everybody for celebrating with her.

Zoey filmed the hilarious speech and then responsibly put her phone away, proud of herself like a toddler who’d used a coaster. Mira couldn't help but briefly nuzzle Zoey's temple at the sight. 

Rumi hopped down, handed her empty glass to… the air, apparently, and beelined to the bar. She returned with a fresh drink, drunken swagger, and the energy of someone whose brain had decided, Tonight, we speedrun *confidence.*

She planted an elbow on the back of their booth, turned to Mira, and delivered, with dead-serious swagger, "Why hey there, ladies~" She grinned; the markings on her face glowed a light pink. "How we doing tonight?"

Mira blinked, “Hey?”

“You got a map?” Rumi asked, staring at them intensely.

Mira’s mouth twitched; Zoey tried to hide her smile. “For…?”

“Because I keep getting lost in your eyes,” Rumi said, absolutely unblinking, like she was reciting divine scripture.

Zoey made a choked sound into a napkin.

Mira, stone-faced and deeply entertained, inclined her head. “Effective cartography is important.”

Rumi nodded solemnly. “Yeah. Also...” she pointed between them with two fingers like a referee- “...are you two, like, together? Because if not, I am accepting applications.” She leaned in with her best smirk, although the drunken flush on her face gave away that it was all liquid courage, "And if you angels are together..." She chuckled and slicked her braid back, "Well, I do have two hands."

Zoey slid sideways down the booth, laughing. “Oh no.”

Mira folded her hands. “Hypothetically, if we were interested, what would your application include?”

Rumi’s eyes lit. She pulled out a pen (from where? who knows) and a cocktail napkin. “Qualifications,” she said, writing. “Tall-ish. Bilingual in Compliments, Demonology, and being a menace. Can and will open jars.”

Zoey threw her head back, wheezing, “Menace fluency.”

Rumi kept going, deeply invested. “Additional skills: buying snacks, being extremely pretty, willing to be big or little spoon or fork if that's your thing.” She paused, frowned, and scratched that out. “That sounded dirtier than intended. I meant utensil versatility. Whatever. Hire me.”

Mira glanced at the napkin, then at Zoey. Mirth was shining in both their eyes, “She's a strong candidate.”

Zoey nodded then leaned forward, eyes shining, “Would you say you’re a team player?”

Rumi leaned in conspiratorially. “Oh yes, see I can run plays." She rubbed her chin and smirked at them, "I can also… run away with you.” She winked, her one demon eye glowed dimly. “What time do you pretty girls get off?”

Zoey covered her face. “Oh my god.”

Mira was losing her composure gracefully; only the slight shake of her shoulders betrayed her. “We might already have a partner,” she said. “Tragic.”

Rumi clicked her tongue, undeterred. Her eyes sparked at the challenge, “Do they treat you right? Because if they don’t, I will file a complaint with HR.”

Zoey laughed, “Human… Resources?”

“No," Rumi shook her head and offered them a smoldering look, "It's Hot Rumi,” She says without an ounce of shame.

Mira finally cackled, leaning back and covering her face to muffle the sound of her dying laughs. “And what if HR is the problem?”

Rumi pointed at herself with both thumbs. “Baby, this HR is your solution.”

“Okay,” Zoey said, wiping tears. “One- drink water, now. Two- wow. Three- do you have a name, hot stuff, or can I call you ‘tonight’s mistake’?”

Rumi put a hand over her heart, thrilled. “Please do- make as many mistakes with me as you'd like. I like them a little mean.”

Mira shook her head and slid a glass of water into Rumi’s hand. “Sip.”

Rumi obeyed, then pivoted to Zoey with the exact same predatory grin. “Hi. I’m new in town.”

Zoey tilted her head amusingly. “You live here.”

“I’m new in town,” Rumi repeated, firmer, clearly committed to the bit. “Any good places to watch the sunrise? Preferably from your balcony. Bonus if there’s coffee. Extra bonus if there’s you.”

Zoey coughed on nothing, “Security! I’m being bullied over here!”

Mira raised a hand. “I can assist.”

Rumi spun to her, finger-guns blazing. “Not you. You’re the femme fatale. And the boss.” She squinted, pleased with herself. “The boss of me, to be clear." She waggled her purple eyebrows, "Gods, you're hot.” She winked at Zoey, "Both of you."

Zoey couldn't stop giggling. Mira was delighted. “Noted.”

The night rolled on. Rumi did a truly unhinged rendition of “Sexy Back,” attempted to bribe the DJ with a sticker, and then, at some point, leaned against the booth between them and confessed, devastatingly earnest, “You two are, like… top-tier crush material. I'd let you both step on me. Gods, I wish you were my girlfriends.”

Zoey offered her a white flag in the form of a fry. “We are your girlfriends.”

Rumi stared at the fry like it had delivered world-changing news. “You are?”

Mira nodded, patient. “Have been for months.”

Rumi blinked. Thought very hard. Then beamed, gloriously. “Sick,” she said, took the fry, and kissed both their cheeks in quick succession like she’d just been hired by her favorite company. “Great decision by me.”

“Impeccable hiring,” Zoey agreed.

Rumi took a bow and nearly toppled; Mira caught her with one hand, steered water into the other, and the party continued with the safe, warm ease of a group that knew where home was.

Rumi woke up horizontal, in her own bed, swaddled like a burrito by two human heaters and six thousand-thread-count sheets. Her head hurt in HD. On the nightstand: water, crackers, and a sticky note in Mira’s tidy handwriting- Electrolytes first. We love you. –M

Another in Zoey’s chaotic bubble letters- you hit on us so hard we consider ourselves successfully picked up. pls sign the HR paperwork (Hot Rumi) when awake. would very much like to make things official bby girl

Rumi buried her face in a pillow and made a sound that translated to oh noooo.

A soft voice. “She lives,” Zoey mumbled, rolling over to sling an arm across Rumi’s waist. Mira was already awake, propped on an elbow, amused and terrifyingly functional.

“How bad is the damage?” Rumi croaked.

Mira chuckled lowly, the kind of tone that did things to Rumi. “Minimal. You flirted with us like a true fuckboy. It was spectacular.”

Zoey nodded along, dreamy and still partially asleep, “Top five nights of my life.”

Rumi flopped an arm over Mira. “I forgot we were dating for, like, twenty minutes.”

Mira kissed her knuckles, “We noticed.”

Rumi groaned, “I said I wanted to apply to be your girlfriend.”

Zoey nodded solemnly, “We reviewed your résumé. Utensil versatility was a concern.”

Rumi threw the pillow at her, groaning as the movement set off her hangover from hell. “Strike that from the record.”

Zoey caught it, smug as she leaned in close to their unnie's face. “Too late. HR already accepted the filing.”

Mira held up the napkin. She had the napkin. “We're framing it.”

Rumi gasped and curled into a mortified ball, “I’m never drinking again.”

“Mm. You said that last time,” Mira said, fond. This part was a bit familiar. “But we’ll do the two-waters rule again. And maybe fewer speeches from elevated surfaces.”

Zoey tucked a lose curl of hair behind Rumi’s ear. “Also, for the record? Being flirted with by our own girlfriend was… extremely charming. I see why you were so amused by us last time.”

Rumi peeked out, eyes glistening with hope. “Really?”

Mira’s mouth softened into a sweet smile. “Yes. Though if anyone else tries it, I will remove their ability to form sentences.”

Zoey nodded, sweet as sugar, “Respectfully.”

Rumi laughed into the blanket, “Okay. New policy- if I ever forget again, you are legally required to kiss me until I remember.”

Zoey sat up with bright eyes. “Is that a binding clause?”

Mira leaned in, cool and certain. “It is now.”

Rumi, blushing and happy, reached for the electrolyte drink. “Fine. Kiss clause enacted. HR approves.”

Zoey squeezed her waist, voice shaking with her usual giggles. “Hot Rumi approves, hehehe.”

Mira kissed her forehead, loving how the half-demon nuzzled close into the touch, “Duly noted.”

They spent the morning in soft clothes and softer voices, debriefing highlights (Zoey’s karaoke harmonies, Mira’s deadpan responses all night, Rumi’s disastrous- but successful- pickup lines), and by noon there was a calendar invite on all three phones titled RUMI’S REHIRING PARTY (SOBER EDITION) with the location set to “home” and the agenda set to “cake + lots of kisses and cuddles + zero applications required.”

“Look at us,” Zoey said proudly. “Learning.”

“Thriving,” Mira corrected.

“Dating,” Rumi finished, smiling like the sun.