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."