Archive of Our Own ^beta

"This is gonna be so good."

"Better than good."

"Yeah, better than good! This is gonna knock her socks clean off, Rumi." Zoey nodded, fists planted on her hips. "I bet she's gonna confess her undying love for us as soon as she smells it."

"She's already confessed her undying love for us–"

"Well, yeah, but I mean, she's gonna do it again, and, like, it'll be extra undying. Because the food is just that good."

Zoey leaned around Rumi's shoulder. The wok, sitting placidly on the stove, radiated heat in gentle waves. Next to the stove on the counter, the veggies and meat that Rumi had already cut and set aside waited in the wings like delicious, cube-shaped performers. Minecraft performers, maybe–though none of them were shaped quite like that, and it'd be a little weird to eat Minecraft characters anyways, wouldn't it? It'd be like some weird form of meta-cannibalism, like, digital cannibalism, or–

Rumi blew out a breath, interrupting Zoey's spiral.

"How do we know the pan's hot enough?"

Zoey locked back in. She had to focus.

"Well, my eomma says it's hot enough when you can throw a veggie in the oil and it sizzles."

Rumi blinked. "We were supposed to put the oil in first?"

Zoey blinked back.

"Ah. Okay, yeah, I might've forgotten a step–but that's fine! It's cool! Just pour some in there now–it'll heat up even faster. And then we'll know it's hot enough–"

"Right," Rumi nodded, straightening from where she'd slouched, letting Zoey rest her chin on her shoulder. "The veggies. Sizzling."

Zoey hummed the affirmative as Rumi poured–well, maybe kind of a big pour of cooking oil, but that was probably fine, right? More oil meant crispier veggies or something. They still had to cook the meat, too, so it was definitely fine; in fact, Rumi'd probably thought of that already. She was the better cook, of the two of them.

Despite this, Rumi bit her lip as she finally stopped pouring oil into the hot pan–a really big pour, yikes, but she was just saving some for later, probably–making an unsure little sound in the back of her throat.

"This–this is safe, right? I spilled a little bit on the side here–" The little bit was actually a lotta bit, but Zoey wasn't gonna tell her lovely girlfriend that– "but it won't catch anything on fire, will it?"

Snorting, Zoey slid around her side, eyeballing the puddle on the stove.

"This li'l guy? Catch on fire? Nah, no way–this isn't a gas stove, it's electric! I'm pretty sure you gotta have, like, an actual, regular-degular open flame for stuff to catch on fire. In fact, I'm positive of it."

Rumi frowned, apparently unconvinced. Zoey snagged a carrot from the chopped veggie pile–a very normal, non-minecraft-cannibalism carrot, thank-you-very-much–and tossed it in her mouth as she turned.

"Baby, relax–" She grinned, showing off grisly carrot-bits, and Rumi laughed–and God, what a laugh, Zoey could just live in that sound, forever and ever– "You know, in America, the public schools work with local fire departments to get, like, firefighters to come show us all the cool stuff and teach us fire safety, yeah?"

Rumi snatched Zoey's wrist clean out of the air when she tried to sneak another piece of carrot–and jeez, those half-demon reflexes were something, she was like a cat catching grasshoppers–even as she nodded along. "Mhmm."

"Okay, so, yeah, one time, they had us all out in this big sectioned off part of the parking lot, and they were like, here's why you shouldn't fry a turkey indoors–"

"We aren't frying a turkey?"

"–and then whoosh, like, the whole thing went up in flames, it was awesome, like a huge tower of fire–and they were like, the oil touches the fire and then it explodes, but if there's no fire, it can't explode, can it? Eh?"

Zoey let Rumi wrap her in her arms, turning them–putting her body between Zoey and the veggies. Foiled by love again, she thought, sighing.

"I guess…" Rumi still sounded hesitant, but Zoey could understand that; neither one of them did a huge amount of cooking, but today was a special day for Mira, and they were gonna surprise her with a delicious home-cooked meal or die trying, dammit!

Preferably not dying, though. For the record.

"Thanks again, Zo. For helping." This, a murmur against Zoey's temple, Rumi's breath warm against the skin of Zoey's ear. It made goosebumps race down her shoulders and arms, and she buried her face in the crook of Rumi's neck as she giggled.

"Of course! Somebody's gotta supervise you in the kitchen, right?"

It was Rumi's turn to snort, now.

"Is that what you're calling it?"

"Well, what else would it–"

"Snacking," Rumi interrupted, tapping her finger against Zoey's back. "Ogling. Being cute and distracting."

"You like me cute and distracting!"

"I do."

"And I am also dispensing necessary tips and tricks, and providing life-saving firefighting advice, and–"

And at that moment, a whump sounded from the direction of the stove.

Zoey, whose face was still firmly pressed to Rumi's neck, felt a nice, warm breeze against the bare skin of her arms, blowing the loose waves of her hair around her shoulders. Rumi, with her chin resting on top of Zoey's head, froze; she didn't move even when Zoey frowned into her skin.

"Ah… Rumi?"

"… Yes, Zoey."

"Is that–?"

A bone deep sigh that Zoey could feel as strongly as the heat from the fire.

"… Yep."

"Ah, sh–"

Like the almost curse had broken the spell of their shock, they jumped into action, scrambling around the kitchen as the wok full of flaming oil roared on the stove.

"Here, lemme get some water–"

"No, you've got to–to smother it–"

"Yeah, with water–"

Rumi snatched a dish towel (one of Mira's decorative ones, which Zoey was not allowed to dry her hands with–which, c'mon, why?) from where it hung on a cabinet near the sink, rushing across the kitchen and inching up to the stove.

She gingerly placed the towel overtop of the flaming wok, and when the flames quieted, she grinned.

"See? The fire service here in Korea teaches us to smother grease fires–water just makes them bigger, Zoey."

Zoey frowned, glancing between the wok and the big bowl of water she'd filled.

"But–"

"Uh–what's going on?"

Both Rumi and Zoey jumped, spinning to stand shoulder to shoulder, blocking Mira's view of the wok and the tiny little fire still flickering on the stove. Zoey might have squeaked a little, too, but that could've also just been the sound of Rumi's soul leaving her body as she caught sight of their girlfriend.

Which, for the record, same.

Mira stood just inside the doorway of the penthouse, bag slung over her shoulder, hair and makeup still immaculate from her shoot. She wore a black leather motorcycle jacket over a cream colored blouse, and the miles and miles (and miles and miles, jeez!) of her legs ended over strappy, black heels, and it was a good thing that Zoey was there, because Rumi.exe had pretty much stopped working wholesale.

Rumi stuttered as she bluescreened, and while Zoey agreed with that sentiment, like, a lot–somebody had to pipe up before Mira started getting suspicious.

"Oh, hey Mira!" Zoey had this. She was calm and collected and cool as a cucumber. "Funny meeting you here!" She waggled her eyebrows. "Come here often?"

Yeah.

Nailed it.

Luckily, Rumi.exe came back online to join the fray.

"Baby!" Her voice was breathless, but her heart was in the right place, Zoey thought. She was trying. "What are you, uh, what're you doing home so early?"

"Yeah," Zoey added, nodding furiously, "What's up? We were just–you know, not doing anything, ourselves. Just–y'know–chillin' out, maxin', relaxin' all cool–"

"Yes, um, like Zoey said, we weren't–"

"–Shootin' some b-ball outside of the school–"

"–doing much of anything, just waiting around–"

"–when a couple of guys who were up to no good–"

"–and then there you were! Here you are! So. Yep! Hi, baby!"

"–started making–I mean, yeah. Like Rumi said. Hi, baby!"

Mira weathered this onslaught admirably, Zoey thought; she looked between the two of them, first at Zoey–who was, again, cool and calm and super duper collected–and then at Rumi, who flashed her a double thumbs up and a grin that could make small children cry. Then she peered over their heads.

"Why is the stove smoking?"

Zoey jerked, looking over her shoulder at the same time Rumi turned, both of them catching sight of the decorative towel–and the fire that chewed a hole through the center of it as it was draped over the wok.

For a split second, nobody moved; and then–

Zoey reached for the lightly smoked towel at the same time Rumi reached for the half-forgotten bowl of water; between the two of them, they made a super impressive tangle of limbs, but Zoey knew it wasn't a very effective tangle of limbs when Mira sidestepped them both easily, plucking the towel from the wok and dropping it in the (actively sloshing, jeez Rumi!) bowl of water.

The traitorous wok was still on fire–which seemed kind of absurd, right? Like how was it not burned out by now, under the weight of Zoey's shame and Rumi's big, brown-eyed puppy dog stare? Come on!–but Mira, entirely unbothered, bent down and grabbed one of the tops from the cabinet by the stove, dropping it deftly over the flames.

Within seconds, it'd gone out.

Rumi was still shaking like a purse dog, bless her heart, but Zoey watched Mira nod once, move the wok from the burner, flip the knob to the off position, and take the now-sodden towel to drop over the little oil candle still burning on top of the stove.

And then it was quiet.

Zoey, being the pillar of reason and responsibility she was, cleared her throat.

"Y'know, we definitely had that under control, but uh…. Thanks, hot stuff."

Mira squinted at the stove as though it might have something to add–it didn't–before she turned back to the vertical ZoeRumi cuddle puddle. At some point in the confusion, Rumi had set the bowl of water down, and now she wrapped her arms around Zoey like she was gonna climb her like a tree–like, a short tree, Zoey amended. Maybe a shrub.

"We can explain."

Well–

Since Rumi said it, Zoey was content to let her take the lead.

Mira pressed her lips into a thin line, eyes twinkling, mouth twitching with a grin suppressed.

"I'm listening."

Oh no–Rumi was going internal again, Zoey could see it: the starry look in her eyes when she got all giggly over their girlfriend, when the pendulum swung from Miss I'm Everyone's Type to Princess 'Big Brown Eyes' Babygirl. Rumi made a sound when Zoey nudged her that was neither an explanation of how they'd gotten here nor PG-13 in the slightest, so Zoey coughed and said brightly, "Rumi wanted to test the fire systems in the penthouse!"

Rumi blinked at her name like a sleeper agent being activated. And then she frowned.

"Actually," she said, puffing up her chest, "Zoey was trying to–to show me one of her crazy American recipes!"

"Crazy Ameri–there isn't even any bacon in this, Rumi, what do you mean–"

"Bacon? Who said anything about–"

"And you were the one who threw oil on the burner? I told you about the turkey exploding–!"

"You said it needed regular-degular fire to–!"

Rumi cut off–and Zoey did too, to be fair–when Mira stepped forward, wrapping them both in her arms. She was laughing, Zoey realized–Rumi had almost burned the house down and Mira was laughing–low, snorting chuckles that made Zoey go all starry eyed and giggly.

Jeez, she was no better than Rumi.

"You two," Mira breathed when her amusement died down to more disaffected levels. "What were you guys thinking?"

Zoey wasn't thinking much of anything at that moment, actually. Straight up clown-car-circus-music between her ears.

"Well…" Rumi's voice was muffled against Mira's neck; Zoey would've been jealous, except she was like, perfectly eye-level with Mira's boobs, so she really couldn't complain. She snuggled closer with a sigh, seeking Mira's heartbeat against her cheek.

Rumi cleared her throat, continuing. "It's, um… Today was your hundredth shoot. With Vogue Korea. So."

Mira grew still; Zoey felt Rumi move, pressing a kiss to Mira's collarbone.

Finally, Mira exhaled, voice rough.

"You were cooking for me?"

Rumi's shoulders jostled Zoey as she shrugged.

"Well, we tried," she mumbled, and then huffed a laugh that Zoey felt on the tip of her nose. "As you can see, there were… Complications."

Zoey tilted her face up to peer at Rumi, grinning.

"My celebration idea was way less cool, though, to be fair. Rumi was gonna like, set up a picnic on the roof–we were gonna cook this whole feast, then wine, dine, and sixty–"

"Actually, Zoey's idea was great, too–" Rumi cut in, blushing furiously, "She wanted to take you take you to Build-A-Bear so we could get those special edition bears–"

Mira barked a laugh. "The special edition bears? They're birds, Rumi."

"Pigeons, technically," Zoey added, but Rumi only groaned.

"Well, I liked that idea. That's all I'm saying–I know you steal Zoey's plushies when you have to travel solo for shoots–"

Zoey gasped, but Rumi went on over her. She knew it! Mira was a stuffie-stealing thief!

… She was also really dang pretty, though, so. Zoey supposed she could let it slide.

"–so I just figured we could've, I don't know… " Rumi's voice trailed off into an embarrassed mumble as Mira drew back, grinning openly. "Made little Zoey and Rumi pigeons for you, or something."

"Or something," Mira murmured, voice warm in the space between them; her arm dropped from around Rumi's shoulders just before she brought her hand up, tracing a finger along Rumi's jaw. "You guys didn't have to do all this, you know."

Rumi gulped, breathing shaky–Miss I'm Everyone's Type had long since left the building–but since Zoey wasn't getting hit full-force with the Mira Rizz Beam, she still had the brain power to be affronted on Rumi's behalf.

"Didn't have to? Well what if we wanted to, huh? What then?"

Ah–drawing attention to herself might not've been the move, actually; Mira turned that warm, toothy grin on Zoey, and Zoey's brain promptly hung up the Back in ten! sign.

"Then I'd say my girls are the best gifts I could ever ask for," Mira murmured, "and that you don't have to burn the penthouse down or make yourselves into cute little pigeons for me; I've already got everything I could ever need."

It was actually criminal how smooth she was.

"Well–I mean–yeah, but–" Zoey was pretty sure her face was hot enough to light the puddle of cooking oil still on the stove. "Y'know, um–the, the way that our, uh–our bank account is set up? Right Rumi?"

"Yeah," Rumi sighed, all breathy and dreamy, and jeez, she was not helping. "Yeah. The bank accounts. Yep."

Gah, Mira knew what she was doing–her eyes crinkled with her grin as it grew, and she tucked a finger under Rumi's chin.

"The bank accounts, huh?"

And okay, sure, Zoey was supposed to be arguing some… Point, or something, but it was kind of hard to concentrate on that when Mira was pressing a soft, chaste kiss to Rumi's lips; when Rumi was pushing up onto her toes to return that kiss, when she made that little whine that was actively rewriting Zoey's brain-code.

What the heck was Zoey supposed to do except watch and try not to explode with all the love she had for her girls?

Mira drew back with a smirk, gaze flitting over, and Zoey realized she'd been staring with her mouth open, like, the whole time.

Whoops.

But then Mira was leaning down towards her, and tilting her chin up, and her brain didn't even bother with the sign this time–it just closed up shop altogether as Mira's smile met Zoey's lips, as the strawberry of her chapstick and the smell of her perfume mingled in Zoey's head.

And then she drew back completely, holding Zoey and Rumi both at arm's length, and one of the two of them made a protesting whine at the distance, but Zoey wasn't admitting to nothin', no way, no how.

"I actually got you two something," Mira said after a minute–and she was blushing, now. "I thought, um–"

Zoey blinked, eyebrows rising, brain grudgingly coming back online. In her periphery, she saw Rumi cock her head.

"I mean," Mira huffed, clearing her throat, "I just–figured, you know, I saw them and thought you might like them. Or whatever."

At this, she turned, bending over to unzip the bag she'd dropped approximately one-bajillion years ago. She pulled two bouquets of flowers before straightening, shrugging sheepishly when Rumi's hands came up to cover her gasp. Zoey didn't know flowers like Rumi did, but she could recognize roses and hydrangeas when she saw them; the other stuff in the bouquet was probably equally as lovey-dovey, and all of a sudden, Zoey's throat felt tight.

"It's almost Valentine's Day," Mira mumbled, shrugging again, "not that–not that I need an excuse to get my girls flowers, but–I just thought, you guys might like them, you know, given the–"

If Mira hadn't been talking so stubbornly at the ceiling, she might've seen Rumi before she was tackled in a hug, but as it was, Zoey had to dart in and hook an arm around her back before the two of them both got taken out by Rumi's enthusiasm.

Luckily, this set Zoey up in the perfect spot to slip around Mira and hug her from behind, wrapping her arms around Rumi to squish her close while she was at it.

Mira sandwiches were a requirement for these trying times, after all. Good for the environment and whatnot.

"It's–These are beautiful, Mira–"

Uh-oh.

Even though Rumi's voice was muffled, Zoey could hear the sniffley, watery quality of her words. Zoey's eyes started to prickle in sympathy.

Mira wasn't any better off, at least.

"I just–" Her voice was all wobbly, breath hitching against Zoey's chest–oh no, oh jeez–and she huffed a laugh as she squeezed Zoey's arm. "I just saw them and thought–" Another sniffle, loud and obvious this time– "I wanted you to know how much I love you–um, the flowers in these–"

"Love," Rumi huffed, grabby hands wrapping in Zoey's shirt, tugging her flush to Mira's back. "Love, and grace, and playfulness, and–"

"And everything you are to me," Mira sobbed, "both of you–I love you so, so much–"

It was a losing battle. Zoey wiped the tears streaming down her cheeks on Mira's jacket, since it was pretty much her fault Zoey was crying in the first place.

"Well, we love you, Mir," she mumbled against the leather. "Even if we didn't get you ZoeRumi pigeons or rooftop sixty-nines."

Rumi's laugh was wet, capped with sniffles. "There wasn't going to be rooftop sixty-nines."

"Oh," Mira laughed, "so you don't love me?"

"Mira!"

"I'm kidding," she said, shaking her head; her hair draped over Zoey with the movement, lifting momentarily as she leaned forward, dropping a kiss on top of Rumi's braid. "I'm sure the food would have been just as good as s–"

She cut off with a grunt and a laugh when Rumi poked her side; Zoey dodged the poke aimed for her, but just barely.

"You two keep it up," Rumi groused wetly against Mira's chest, "and sixty-nine will be a countdown to the next time I give you any physical affection. Jerks."

Zoey snorted, nudging at Mira's arm with her face until she lifted it, allowing Zoey to squint up at Rumi from her armpit.

"You really think you can wait a whole hour-and-some-change when Mira's looking like an entire five-course meal?"

"… Well, obviously. I'm disciplined."

Mira and Zoey paused; then, as one, they burst into laughter.

"Okay, yeah, Rumi–you definitely wouldn't fold for Zo's puppy dog eyes–"

"Or the way Mira smiles at you when she makes you blush–"

"Or for Zoey's dimples? Please be realistic, Rumi–"

"Yeah, you gotta be realistic about these things, Rums!"

Rumi burrowed deeper into Mira's shirt with a wordless grumble, and Mira laughed, tugging Zoey fully under her arm–which was useful, since Mira was an Amazonian goddess and therefore too tall for Zoey to kiss anywhere but her leather-clad shoulder.

God gives his shortest soldiers his loveliest, longest-legged girlfriends, Zoey guessed.

With the weight of Mira's arm on her shoulders, and Rumi's smile peeking out from where she curled against Mira's chest, Zoey sighed, content.

"This," she mumbled, eyes closing, "is so good."

"Better than good," Rumi agreed.

Mira heaved a breath above them.

"I love you two."

Zoey grinned; she'd called it from the start.