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“Fuyumi!” Rumi pounces on her, almost literally, the moment she walks in the door. Fuyumi laughs a little, wrapping her arms around her wife. She’s about to give her a peck on the lips when another voice alerts her to someone else being here, and she pulls back with pink cheeks.
“Yo,” says Hawks, lifting up a hand in greeting. “Did you come to help out?”
“Yes,” Fuyumi says easily, giving a smile.
“No way, lazybird,” Rumi says at the same time, grinning.
Fuyumi lightly shoves Rumi and shakes her head. “I brought lunches, and I’d like to help… if I can.”
Hawks frowns a little bit, cocking his head to the side. “Course you can, it’s just moving some boxes and going through paperwoooooooooooly shit.” His eyes fix on her stomach. Fuyumi hadn’t thought she was that noticeable yet, but maybe that was optimistic of her. “No way. Rumi, what the fuck? No way!”
“Shut up, we haven’t told anyone but her brothers, yet,” Rumi glares at him.
He looks a bit wounded. “Iiiii don’t count?” Fuyumi doesn’t know him well enough yet to tell if he’s just kidding around and being playful, or if he actually considers himself like family with Rumi, enough to be told. (She does know that if Rumi actually said those kinds of words outloud, she would count Hawks as family, but also knows Rumi would not ever actually say that kind of thing aloud.)
“Don’t worry, they guessed,” Fuyumi tells him easily. “Shouto’s very observant.” Though he hadn’t exactly guessed a baby offhand…
Hawks grins at her. “Aww, you’re sweet,” he says easily. “If you really want to help, we’ll give you a chair and a desk and everything. No moving for the pregnant woman! Completely illegal! I’m declaring such as the president of HPSC.”
Fuyumi pauses. “...Isn’t the whole point of this to dismantle the whole organization and reveal all their ‘deep dark secrets’?” That was how Rumi had phrased it.
He waves a hand. “Semantics.”
They’re both very sweet to her, though. Rumi is clearly bounding with energy, which makes sense – she’s not used to having any sort of ‘desk job’, but had agreed to help Hawks with this kind of thing since she could be trusted. There’s not a lying bone in her wife’s body, and her heart is on her sleeves at all times. Hawks, meanwhile, seems torn between acting like she’s made of glass that he must handle with care and acting as though she’s a mother lion that he needs to keep his distance from or get mauled.
Between the two of them, Fuyumi finds herself practically carried to the old break room, where the other two are very sweet about the simple soba she’s brought. She had made it for Shouto, too, dropping it off on her way here, and Hawks has nothing but compliments for her.
“You’ve destroyed your tastebuds with all the takeout you eat, birdbrain,” Rumi says, grinning.
Hawks pauses. “...Are you saying your wife’s cooking is not phenomenal and the best thing you’ve ever eaten?”
“Hey, I did not say that!”
When she was a child, Fuyumi dreamed of this kind of atmosphere. Of a family united, whole, able to tease and eat together and laugh. To a child, it had seemed the ultimate dream – she had not understood that you can look for that elsewhere. That here, with her wife and the hero who is basically her wife’s brother… It’s peaceful. Nice.
Rumi forces Hawks to wash out the bento boxes, and Fuyumi is promptly given theeeeee most comfortable chair in the house, according to Hawks. “It’s the old VP’s,” he tells her. “I tried the old Prez’s chair, and I dunno what they were on. Prison cell would’ve been more comfortable.” He pauses. “Hope they’re enjoying their new upgraded digs, then.”
They give Fuyumi what is clearly the easiest task in the house. Any files or boxes of paperwork or anything that seem promising in terms of ‘deep dark secrets that will either get someone pardoned or another person arrested’ are brought to her, and she scans them before organizing them into three piles. The first, for stuff that’s pretty clearly irrelevant. She doesn’t think the water bill has much to do with anything. The second for stuff that might be interesting – some order forms for something she doesn’t recognize, which could be as mundane as an unfamiliar coffee brand or as sinister as… torture devices? She’s honestly not sure what it could be and doesn’t want to ask. The third is for stuff that’s definitely important, like an employee payroll.
Hawks and Rumi each happily cart over boxes and files after a quick skim to see if it’s worth looking through, and it should be a fairly standard time, but, ah…
Well.
It starts with Rumi bringing Fuyumi over a hotpack. She doesn’t think too much of it, because it’s a little chilly in here, and simply thanks her wife with a quick kiss on the cheek in gratitude. Hawks spots this when he comes over to drop off a file, and after frowning at the hotpack pressed between her hands for a moment, whisks off. He returns with a well-worn blanket, which she accepts with surprise. “I, uh. Hid this away for use when I was a kid here,” he says.
He leaves before she can even thank him, and with a small smile, Fuyumi smooths the blanket over her lap before returning to her sorting. Rumi shows up next with a water bottle. “Gotta stay hydrated!” she says, ruffling Fuyumi’s hair. She always does that just to make Fuyumi pout and fix it, which always makes Rumi laugh brightly. Hawks sees the water bottle when he returns, and it doesn’t take him long before he’s bringing her over some tea.
They then start in on the competing snacks – there’s either a vending machine somewhere in the building, or they keep darting out to the convenience store nearby (which… she wouldn’t put past them…) – and, well. Fuyumi’s pregnant. She likes snacks. Not exactly complaining.
The final step is when Rumi frowns at her stretching. Fuyumi quirks an eyebrow. “Yes…?”
“Are your feet swollen at all?” Rumi asks abruptly. “I read they can get swollen.” (The fact that Rumi went out of her way to look up and read something for Fuyumi’s sake is… very sweet. That’s not what she usually likes to spend her free time doing.)
“A bit,” Fuyumi says, wiggling her toes in her shoes, and that’s apparently all the prompting that Rumi needs to get down under the table, pull Fuyumi’s shoes off (she squeaks! What is her wife doing!!!!) and start giving her a foot massage. “R-Rumi!” she protests, face pink.
“You need it!” Rumi says immediately, who apparently doesn’t have an ounce of shame in her entire body.
When Hawks returns with the next pile, he sloooows down. Takes in the scene of the blanket hiked up around to rest on Fuyumi’s thighs with Rumi, the queen of not sitting still, is content to squat down and massage Fuyumi’s feet very, very carefully with her prosthetic hands. Fuyumi’s face turns redder. Rumi doesn’t even bother to look up.
Hawks ponders carefully for a moment. “...I’ll do your back,” he decides after a moment, and a pink-faced Fuyumi buries her face in her hands and decides they’re getting nothing done for the rest of the day.
Tomorrow, she resolves, she is staying home.