Chapter Text
It all begins with a loud gasp.
The sudden high-pitched intake of air that echoes around the room has every nerve in Mira's body on edge — and if that's her reaction to it, it's for a reason. The reason, in this case, would be that it came from a five-foot-tall, raven-haired girl with freckles like galaxies across her nose and cheeks who happens to be the woman she helplessly fell in love with many, many years ago.
This kind of sound her girlfriend produced always resulted in one of two things: either she had the best idea on the planet, or — and usually what happens — she had the most stupid, life-threatening, insane idea on Earth, that would end with them fucking through the night.
There was never a third outcome to that kind of gasp.
Mira's head snaps to her side, where big brown eyes stare at her with a spark of mischief. Option two it is. Mira sighs, deflating with a groan as she closes her eyes and takes deep breaths to keep herself from murdering the love of her life before she even gets the chance to speak.
"No," Mira says after a few beats, and Zoey pouts, brows furrowing.
"You didn't even hear it," Zoey argues, looking at her expectantly.
God, she hated that look.
Well, she didn't really. She hated what that look did to her — how it made her fold almost immediately to anything the maknae wanted. Zoey was adorable and completely insane in equal measures — essentially why Mira fell head over heels for the younger woman — and her best quality was getting Mira to agree to anything.
It was infuriating.
"You've got twenty seconds," Mira sighs, and Zoey's whole face lights up at it. "Go."
"You got your motorcycle here, right?" She says brightly, those beautiful eyes shining with excitement.
Mira frowns, cocking her head to the side without a clue of where this is going. "Uh, yeah?"
"Ok," Zoey nods and shifts closer, straddling Mira's lap like it was second nature, so now they were face to face. "Let's do this."
She turns her phone so Mira can see. The taller girl adjusts her glasses on the bridge of her nose, squinting at the screen and trying to understand what's being shown to her. There's a video playing of a girl riding a motorcycle and—
If Mira had liquid in her mouth right now, the spit take would likely reach the hallway. Her eyes widen when she takes in the rest of the screen. A second girl is riding the bike, but she is lying down on it, head against the handlebars like she is tanning at the beach. Hands — likely from the driver — roam over her exposed stomach as the city passes them by.
Mira's thighs involuntarily press together, and Zoey, ever the perceptive girl that she is, notices it with a smirk on her lips.
"I know," She bites the inside of her lips while Mira looks at her wide-eyed, heart beating so fast she almost feels like they were the ones in the video.
She shakes the thought away.
"Absolutely not," She says, and Zoey deflates.
The routine is always the same: Zoey suggests the wildest things, Mira says no — because, obviously — Zoey whines, Mira stands her ground, Zoey explains the plan, making it seem like they are just discussing dinner, more refusal, a pout combined with puppy eyes, and finally, Mira folds.
This time is no different. Mira anxiously awaits the day she will beat the puppy eyes final boss.
"Miraaaaaaaaaa," She whines. "Please!! Look, you'll drive, and I'll just lie there for you," She offers, and before Mira can shut the idea down, the freckled girl goes on. "Just a quick ride. Ten minutes on Teheran-ro."
Mira looks at her, dumbfounded, searching for the moment Zoey will laugh and tell her she was just joking. Is it April Fools' or something, and no one told her? Well, unless that moved up to August, for some reason, she doesn't think so. Which means—
"Oh my god," Mira groans, closing her eyes briefly before finding Zoey's again. "You're serious."
"Deadly," She smirks, that smug, charming, beautiful smile that would make Mira's knee buckle had she been standing.
"Zoey," She says calmly after a deep breath. "Baby, that is— what if— I— This is actually dangerous."
"So was swimming with sharks in Fiji, and you still did that." She argues. "Come oooon! Live a little. Imagine the wind in your face, the city passing by, your hands," she takes Mira's hands and places them under her shirt. "Exploring my body at full disposal for you."
Yeah. Mira forgot about this part — the part where Zoey uses her dreamy tone to make whatever she wants Mira to agree to seem like something you cannot miss, like you haven't fully lived until you experience it.
"You should really reconsider abandoning Marine Biology and becoming a saleswoman," Mira deadpans.
"I'll let you do anything to me tonight." Zoey blurts out, quick and jumbled, before Mira can get any other word out, then presses her lips into a thin line. Mira isn't even sure she is breathing at all.
There is a beat of silence in which the whole room stills, and their eyes remain locked in a silent battle of who will break first. To Mira's credit, she actually lasts longer this time, long enough that Zoey pulls her final card. Her lower lip forms the cutest pout, and her eyes go so round and pleading, it reminds Mira of a kicked puppy.
Still, she holds her ground, eyes hardening as she tries to keep her resolve. That lasts until Zoey lays her head on Mira's shoulder, lips finding the spot on her neck where her pulse hammers, placing a soft, tickly peck over it, and in a sweet, soft, loving voice that Mira will never be able to say no to, the maknae breaks her.
"Please, Mimi."
Mira groans. Loud. Head thrown back against the headboard as she expels all the air from her lungs. This woman will, quite literally, be the death of her.
"Fine," She says, snapping her eyes back at the maknae. "If we die, I'll bring us both back so I can kill you myself. Understood?" Before Zoey can do the happy dance Mira knows is coming, she holds her wrists and leans in close to her ear. In a low, breathy voice, she says, "And I'll take you up on your offer. You're at my mercy tonight."
Zoey breath hitches, her entire body goes still for a brief moment, and then she is standing on the bed, hips moving from one side to the other, in time with her arms as she spins around with the biggest smile Mira has ever seen. The taller girl can't help but let a fond smile grow on her lips
"You dork," She chuckles, pulling the maknae down onto her lap and pressing their lips together.
Kissing Zoey is like summer evenings — warm, overwhelming in a way you feel it spreading through every corner of your body and settling there for as long as it lasts, the kind that once it's gone, you can't help but claim for more. Mira loves the way the younger woman melts against her, how her hands cup her jaw, tilting her head up so she can deepen the kiss, tongue exploring her mouth like she owns it.
A small sound escapes the back of Mira's throat, and Zoey drinks it in, humming in approval as the taller girl pulls her impossibly closer, hands slipping under her shirt and nails dragging down her back, not enough to mark, but enough to make Zoey arch into her with a needy moan against her lips.
Zoey pulls away first, but only enough to kiss her cheek, her jaw, down her neck, which Mira offers more of without really noticing. The maknae's hand finds the other side of her neck, thumb brushing the hollow of her throat with such care and devotion that Mira can't do anything but surrender to her touch.
"You'll get us killed one of these days," Mira says in a whisper, lost to the sensation of Zoey's mouth on her skin.
"I'd gladly die with you," Zoey replies against her neck, Mira's hand instinctively tightening on the maknae's hips.
"You're insane," she huffs.
"You love me."
"I hate that I do."
"No, you don't," Zoey nips the skin over her pulse point, soothing the spot with her tongue when Mira hisses.
"No, I don't."
Then their lips meet again, breathless, insistent, hungry, like this is their last chance to do so. One of Mira's hands tangles in Zoey's hair, tugging until she gets that little throaty sound that ignites the flame in her lower stomach.
"Mira," Zoey pleads in a moan, hips inching forward in an attempt to grind, but Mira stops her.
She leans in, breath hot against Zoey's ear. "You have five minutes to get ready before I change my mind on the motorcycle," She tugs her hair again, earning another whimper in response. "And only then I'll decide what to do to you, and you'll be a good girl and take whatever I give you. Got it?"
Zoey nods frantically — as much as she can with the hold Mira has on her — breath gone and pure lust and want in her eyes. Mira grins, satisfied, releasing the shorter girl and gently pushing her off her lap. Zoey wastes no time in bolting to their closet, retrieving a black crop top and sweatpants, and quickly pulling them on while chanting 'gajagajagaja'.
No more than fifteen minutes later, they sit in their garage, Mira on her bike, securing her gloves and Zoey placing her helmet over her head, basically vibrating with excitement and anticipation. The shorter girl lifts the shield and looks at her with the most adoring smile.
"Are you sure about this, jagi?" Mira checks in a little hesitantly, only because she has to. She already knows the answer.
"I am," Zoey nods, watching her, then her light dims, something you wouldn't notice if you didn't know her the way Mira did, but the taller girl caught it, like she always did. "Aegiya, if you don't want to, we can just—"
"No," Mira cups her cheeks, stopping her the moment her eyes had drifted to the ground instead of at her. Their gaze meets again, and Mira melts. Damn her softness for this woman. "I want to. It'll be fun."
It's not a lie, per se. It always ends up being fun doing whatever craziness Zoey drags her into and up until now, they have returned home without even a single scratch. So why would today be any different? She is excited, she just needed to shove some sense into the younger woman before she agrees — or try to, at least.
As she well knows, this isn't the first nor the last wild idea she'll ever hear, after all, Zoey's craziest idea is always the next one. By falling in love with her and becoming her girlfriend almost five years ago, she accepted the terms and conditions — that's why people maybe should read those beforehand, but well, she regrets nothing.
"Hop on," She says, offering her hand as Zoey props herself onto the motorcycle, facing Mira for the time being. "Okay, lie down, legs around my waist." She instructs, hands on either side of the younger girl, helping her down.
Zoey does as she is told, head finding the handlebars as her back arches just a little. When she feels stable enough, Mira helps her legs around her hips and Zoey promptly crosses her ankles on the small of Mira's back.
Mira takes the time to watch how beautiful Zoey looks like this — arms behind her head, the muscles on her stomach flexing with the position, her legs wrapped around Mira the same way she does as she begs for more, deeper, faster in breathless pants over and over. Mira's hands drag up Zoey's legs, thumb brushing over her inner thigh in pure devotion. The maknae squirms in place, almost losing her balance, but Mira's hands fly to her hips to stabilize her.
"Careful," She warns, but her tone is soft.
"Your hands are driving me insane," her voice comes slightly winded, muscles tensing under Mira's reverent touch.
"Good," The taller girl whispers back, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on her lips, making sure her stomach presses against Zoey, giving her enough friction to make her need more, but not enough to give her any pleasure, stealing a breathy whine from her. "It's what you get for getting me into this." With that, she sits back up, shifts so they are comfortable, and looks at her girlfriend again. "Ready?"
Zoey nods. "As I'll ever be."
Mira closes Zoey's shield, then puts her own helmet on and turns her bike on. The motor roars into life in an instant. She lifts the kickstand with her heels and drives out of their driveway, taking the first left to get to where Zoey wanted. Through the whole drive, Mira keeps one hand on the handlebars and the other firmly and protectively holding onto Zoey.
She turns into Teheran-ro, which, unlike when the sun is up and shining, is calm with barely a few vehicles here and there, and not many people on the sidewalks. Instinctively, Mira speeds up, just enough to feel the wind carry her hair and brush against her neck, wishing it could be her face instead.
She smiles despite herself, like she always does when she rides into the night. Her mind clears, her breath feels lighter, calmer, like everything is just as it should be. Every worry, every problem, everything that doesn't belong to this moment slips away as she is reminded exactly why she bought the motorcycle in the first place.
Of course, it had been another one of Zoey's ideas. Mira herself would never buy a motorcycle, given that she had always preferred the comfort and the AC of her car. But one memory came to her mind then. Her father used to have one when she was little, and Mira had been fascinated with it, though he never let her near it. She'd watch from afar as her father sped down their street with her brother on the back, but never her, because 'girls are not meant for rides like this' or 'it is too dangerous for girls like you'.
So, yes, when Zoey told her they should get one and drive all the way to Jeju Island for a weekend escapade instead of taking their car from the driveway, she had gone along with it for the shorter girl, but also for her younger self — and maybe a little just to rebel against her father's wishes.
She loved her motorcycle now, cared for it like it was a child, if she were to be honest. It had been one of her favorite purchases ever. Aside from the wind and the speed and the feeling of being free riding brought her, she also didn't mind one bit taking Zoey on rides, feeling her body pressed against her back, arms wrapped around her middle, and chin on her shoulders. She loved to share this passion with her girl.
Without noticing, they were speeding just a little over the limit. Mira's heart drummed inside her chest with the thrill of it, so she took that moment to carefully let go of the motorcycle in favor of holding Zoey's waist. She can feel Zoey's heavy breathing under her palms, matching her own.
The maknae brings one of her hands between them, fingers forming half a heart, as if waiting for Mira to complete it. She chuckles to herself, light and breathy, rolling her eyes fondly at the act, but complies anyway, completing the heart with her hands and squeezing Zoey's waist twice. 'I love you', she hopes her girlfriend understands, and she knows she did the second their fingers lock together between them.
Mira gets lost in the moment, in caressing Zoey's skin, in making sure they are steady not to fall, in how free and weightless she feels in the moment. Ten minutes turn into twenty, then thirty, and Mira never wants to go home, never wants this feeling to dissipate, never wants—
She hears it before she sees it, the loud, piercing siren coming from the car behind them, lights coloring the street in accusing blue and red. Her smile vanishes slowly as she takes in the situation, and the free and weightless feeling quickly turns into sinking stones in her stomach as her entire body runs cold.
She slows to a stop near the sidewalk, legs slightly wobbly, as Zoey sits up as well, lifting her shield to reveal terrified eyes. They stare at each other in silent panic for as long as it takes for the cop to pull over behind them and walk over.
A blinding light slides across her face, making Mira squint, her forearm raising to shield her eyes as she tries to make out the form in front of her. It's only when the officer lowers the flashlight that Mira takes in the long purple hair in a tight, impeccable braid that falls over her large and strong shoulders as big, serious eyes stare right at her.
Big, serious, and completely beautiful brown eyes.
It, for some reason, makes her entire body shiver.
"I'll need your keys," The cop says, tone harsh and somewhat tired, like she wasn't expecting to deal with this today. "On the ground, away from you."
"I— Okay," Mira stutters, but slowly turns off the bike and throws the keys on the floor. It lends with a sharp clink near the officer's foot.
"Step off the motorcycle," The officer commands in a tone that leaves no room for argument. When Mira hesitates, she pushes.
"Y-yeah, sorry," Mira springs into action, pulling down the kickstand as she continues to hold Zoey's hip. She steps off, then helps the shorter girl do the same.
"Helmets off," Comes the next command, and the two of them obey without argument.
Mira pulls her helmet off, shaking her pink hair from the tangle it usually finds itself in, then hangs it on the handles, watching as Zoey follows suit. The younger girl's eyes take in the officer with a mix of awe and hunger that would've made Mira laugh had they been in any other situation.
Now, however, the woman in front of them looks anything but amused, so she decides to hold her reaction for another time. That doesn't stop her from drinking the cop in. Her slim but strong body, sharp jaw that somehow manages to look soft at the same time, piercing brown eyes that seem to hide a whole universe behind them.
The woman is beautiful. No. Beautiful barely makes justice. Gorgeous, maybe. Stunning. A quiet but commanding kind of beauty that has Mira weak on her knees as she simply stares, unable to tear her eyes away.
She has only ever felt this once in her life, nearly fifteen years ago, when a short girl with raven hair and freckles walked into her math class and sat beside her. She couldn't point out exactly what it was about the girl that got her heart racing like she'd run a marathon then — she had been thirteen after all — but as soon as young Zoey talked her ears off about turtles during recess, Mira knew she'd marry her one day.
And that's all it took. It's exactly what brought her here today.
Feeling this… pull… again caught her so off guard that she couldn't help but look away, finding deep interest in a crack on the floor. She chances a quick glance at Zoey, who doesn't fare much better. The maknae's jaw nearly hits the floor as her eyes darken, raking over the cop's figure with something sharp — something that looks a lot like hunger.
Huh.
"What, exactly, had the two of you thinking this was a good idea?" The woman scolds like she is talking to two toddlers who used markers on her wall.
Mira can't quite stop herself from noticing the other woman's voice — feminine and sweet, but also carrying authority and something powerful behind it. She finds herself captivated by it, wanting to hear more, from the softest to the harshest tone the woman can make.
"I-it was her fault," Mira points to Zoey, who squeals in place.
"What?" She snaps, catching Mira's attention. "It was not—"
"Yes, it was," Mira argues as a frown grows on Zoey's brow. "I told you I'd blame it on you if we got caught."
"No, you didn't," She argues. "You said you'd kill me, not blame me."
"Well," Mira shrugs, brow raising in amusement. "I cannot kill you in front of the gorgeous cop, now, can I?"
Two things make Mira realize what she said: the mischievous, knowing smirk that takes over Zoey's face and a quiet hitch in the cop's breathing that does dangerous things to Mira's insides. Her head snaps at the purple-haired woman, her eyes wide and lips slightly parted as realization burns against her cheeks.
"I—"
"Calling me gorgeous will not get you out of this," The cop — Officer Ryu, if Mira reads her tag right — says, pulling out her phone. "Driver's license, please."
Mira's entire body runs cold when she pats over her empty pockets, eyes screwing shut as she holds her breath. Fuck. She forgot her wallet, and therefore, she was driving without her license.
"Ha," Mira huffs after a few beats, eyes meeting with the cop's. "I— Really funny story for you—"
"Miraaa," Zoey groans, throwing her head back and staring at the sky as if it would magically get them out of this. "Please, for all that is holy, tell me you have your license."
"I do!" Mira says a little higher-pitched than normal. "Just not… here."
Officer Ryu hums, but the way she does it — disappointed, but like this is exactly what she was expecting — makes Mira's stomach sink further. She searches her brain for something, anything, that will help their case, but is quickly cut off by the cop's next words.
"Reckless driving," She says as if checking out boxes. "Speeding, no driver's license. Anything else I need to know?"
"Listen," Zoey tilts her head, leaning closer to read her tag. "Officer Ryu, we— it was a silly little idea, the street is empty and Mira… Mira is forgetful—"
"Hey!"
"—Can you, please, let this one slide?" She pleads, and Mira knows very well what comes next. "We will never do it again, I promise."
Right on cue, Zoey's lips form the most adorable — and kissable — pout, eyes rounding as she bats her lashes at the officer with such innocence that Mira would have folded instantly. The cop's reaction is immediate, even faster than Mira's, her shoulders drop just so, and the harshness behind her eyes dissipates just enough to give them hope that she'll actually let them go.
"We're really sorry," Zoey goes on, stepping a little closer. "Maybe we can take you for a coffee for your troubles? Do you have a break soon?"
Officer Ryu stands there, lips slightly parted like she lost her ability to speak, eyes taking in her girlfriend with a hint of something Mira can't quite point out, but deeply wants to. She prides herself on reading people — had to learn to do so from a young age — and she feels this strange, all-consuming need to figure this woman out entirely, to be able to know all her telltales, to read into every waver, every tone.
"I, uh," The officer stutters, eyes glued to Zoey's like it's her life mission. "Don't—"
"Please?" Even Mira is surprised by her voice, sweet and so like Zoey's, she barely recognizes it as her own.
She notices a shift in the cop's stance, something so small she would've missed it had she not been watching the woman so closely. The purple-haired woman's eyes go back and forth between her and Zoey, her lips twitch as if she's biting their insides, but she says nothing for a while — long enough that Mira almost loses her hope.
Almost.
Because she looks at Zoey, and the shorter girl's eyes are going irresistibly round, her lips forming that stupid pout that gets Mira every time. Officer Ryu's eyes are locked with the maknae's, and even though she tries to look away, to pretend that the look isn't getting to her, Mira can see the fight going on in her brain — one she knows very well.
"Please," Zoey says, sweetly, pout growing on her lips.
Officer Ryu holds stiff for a beat, two, then sighs, shoulders slumping like she just lost a really important battle. Mira's lips tick up at it as she crosses her arms and suppresses a chuckle begging to be let out.
"So, you ever use those handcuffs for something other than work?"
"ZOEY!" Mira squeaks, nearly choking on her own coffee.
The officer — Rumi, as she told them on the way to the diner — coughs wildly around her mug, spilling even more dark liquid over the table, her fists hitting her chest as the poor woman tries to catch a proper breath.
"I am so sorry," Mira breathes, heat creeping up her neck and cheeks.
"Is she high?" The purple-haired girl asks the second she recovers enough to speak, voice still hoarse around the edges.
"No," Mira says with a light groan. "That's her sober."
"I've never been high," Zoey hums proudly, then her face contorts into one of confusion — if Mira knows her well, questioning why that is.
"There's a reason for that," Mira says quickly, shutting down the idea before it even forms. Still mortified, she adds a huff under her nose that served as a half-sigh, half-chuckle. "We'll keep it that way." She promises Rumi and merely informs Zoey.
The diner they found — the only place open this late into the night that was within walking distance from where they had been pulled over — was mostly empty, save for two other tables with tired-looking men, likely too drunk to get to their houses. The light, something too white for a cozy ambience, flickered above them, and Mira swore she could hear its incessant buzz.
The coffee, if you could call it that, tasted nothing like it, so watery it might as well be called tea. They hadn't chosen anything to eat, at least not yet, and it wasn't likely that they would, but they took the menus either way, pretending to be interested in them until the waiter walked away.
And that's when Zoey blurted out the question that nearly killed the other two women.
"So, you're a couple, I'd take…" Rumi hums, eyeing them with something that Mira would dare call amusement.
"Yes," She replies, hand instinctively finding Zoey's thigh, not possessively, just… there. "We've been together for five years."
"Almost," Zoey adds as she places her hand on top of hers. "But close enough." She giggles.
Rumi nods, nose wrinkling in disgust as she sips from her mug. Mira finds that quite adorable but refrains from commenting on it, after all, she is trying to make a good impression to avoid going to jail with a heavy ticket — or multiple tickets — in her pocket.
"What about you? Seeing anyone?"
It takes a moment for Mira to understand she wasn't the one to voice her thoughts. This time, she doesn't reprimand Zoey. Instead, she leans a bit forward, eyes trained on the woman across from her, elbows resting on the table, and chin on her hands as she watches a faint pink dust on Rumi's cheeks.
"Uh," the cop chuckles awkwardly, hand reaching behind her neck before falling uselessly on the table, her eyes locked to the mug as if it were the most interesting thing in the room. "No. Not seeing anyone. I don't…" she traps her bottom lip between her teeth, and Mira wonders what they'd taste like between her own. "I haven't in a while."
There's something sad in her tone, even though she clearly tries to hide it behind indifference. She shifts in her seat, clears her throat as a battle goes on in her mind, one that Mira wishes she could read through and fight for her, though something tells her that Rumi doesn't need anyone to fight her battles.
Then she looks up, expression completely changed from what it was a second ago. She smiles like she is trying to hold back a laugh. She looks at Mira first, as if assessing her, and Mira's cheeks burn under her stare. Then her eyes shift to Zoey, and the taller girl swears her gaze softens just a little before it grows wildly amused.
"Let me guess," She says around a soft chuckle. "It was your idea?"
"What was?" Zoey asks, innocently but defensively, unable to contain a smile.
"The motorcycle," Rumi clarifies, raising a brow and daring her to say otherwise. Then she turns to Mira. "How did she convince you?"
Mira huffs a laugh, lips growing into a quiet smirk. "Same way you found yourself in a weird diner with the two people you pulled over half an hour ago." She raises a brow at her, just to make a point, just to let her know she saw the second Zoey's puppy eyes got to her.
"Oh," Rumi blushes as she chuckles. "I hated that."
"It works every time," Zoey smiles proudly. "Don't take it personally."
"You get used to it," Mira smirks. "Not that the effect will change. That much I can guarantee."
"You sure know how to use that cuteness of yours," The officer shakes her head with a light chuckle, then she stills, eyes growing wide and face going so red that Mira is sure she is about to explode.
Oh.
She thinks Zoey is cute.
A thousand different emotions cross Zoey's face at the words. It starts with a proud smile, like she's heard that more than once before — which she had, straight from Mira's mouth — then realization that it wasn't actually Mira that said it, then surprise, shock, and finally, something entirely different that Mira did know well enough. Want.
She doesn't interrupt their staredown, just lets the air grow both thick and somewhat playful. Watches as Rumi's mouth opens and closes uselessly with words that refused to come, as Zoey's grin widened, proud and satisfied, knowing her charm did its thing with little effort, like it normally did anyway, but still surprised her somehow that it worked.
"Tell me more about that, Rumi," Zoey says, propping her elbows on the table and her chin on her head, much like Mira was before, though more flirtatious than attentive.
At the way Zoey says her name, low and with that hint of danger, Rumi shifts in her seat, fixing her posture and bringing out the same stance from when she told them to step off the motorcycle, authoritative and in control, though Mira can't help but see it as a little too hot for her own good.
"There is nothing to say about it," She sips on the coffee, a full sip like she forgot the thing tastes that bad. She grimaces, staring at the mug like it personally offended her. "Ok, I can't do this anymore. This is terrible coffee."
Mira bursts out laughing, Zoey following suit, her head thrown back as she pushes her mug to the center of the table. It doesn't take long for Rumi to join them too, her laugh shy but still real and genuine, a sound Mira commits to memory, just in case she doesn't get to hear it again.
"It is awful," Zoey says between heavy breaths. "I can't believe you drank half the mug."
Rumi frowns, then looks at their mostly full mugs with lukewarm coffee sitting on the table. "Am I the only one who has been pretending to like it?" She asks, baffled.
"To be fair," Mira muses, a playful smirk on her lips. "The way your nose scruched in disgust every time you sipped was kind of cute."
Zoey hums her approval as the cop loses her posture once more, covering her face and letting out an embarrassed groan. "I should have arrested both of you," She mutters. "If not for the reckless behavior, then this would do it."
That sends all three of them into a new fit of laughter, louder and longer than before. They kept adding little comments here and there that only fueled them on until they started to get dirty looks from the waiter and the two men. Only then did they settle into soft chuckles and warm smiles.
"It's getting late," Rumi comments, checking the time on her phone. There is a lilt to her tone, something almost disappointed.
Mira felt it, too, in her stomach — that soft pang of disappointment at the time for moving too fast and taking this moment from her. Zoey also grows a little quieter, biting her lips like she is trying and failing to conjure a reason for it not to end.
Something overtakes Mira then, if it is the pang in her own chest or the mourning air that falls around them, she isn't sure, but she raises her head, determined and sure, then looks Rumi in the eyes while searching for Zoey's hand, half for reassurance, half to make sure she agrees with it.
"it… It doesn't have to be over," She says, and the spark that shifts in Rumi's eyes is enough to spur her on. "Come home with us." She blurts out, then holds her breath as if the barest movement will shatter the moment.
"W-what?" Rumi's breath hitches, eyes growing wide like she wasn't expecting the invite.
"Let us treat you to real coffee," Zoey says when it's clear Mira couldn't find her words anymore. "Mir makes a mean one. She can make us food too, if you're hungry."
"So you'll just throw me in the kitchen?" Mira raises a brow at her, more to soften the moment than the fact that she actually cares.
"Oh, quit it," Zoey rolls her eyes with a smile on her lips. "You know you want to, Drama Queen."
Mira chuckles, responding with an eyeroll of her own, and her girlfriend falls into quiet giggles by her side. She can feel Rumi's eyes on her, but she decides to give her another beat before acknowledging it.
When their gaze finally meets, Mira can read the uncertainty, but she always sees something else. Unlike Zoey's, Rumi's want is quiet, timid, almost, but there, just as intense and easy to see as the shorter girl's. So Mira gives her a choice instead of trying to convince her, intrigued by what will speak louder. Want or uncertainty?
She hopes she read her right.
"Unless you need to go back to your shift," She says, tone casual but slightly quieter. "We understand if you do."
At this point, the three of them are highly aware that this isn't Mira worrying about her working schedule. No. This is both Mira and Zoey telling Rumi that she has an option, that they want her to accept their offer, but that this is entirely her choice to make. They took the first step, she can now either step towards them or away.
And most importantly, that they understand if she isn't interested.
To be quite frank, Mira is just as taken aback as Rumi might be. If you had asked her before tonight, she would have never said she'd consider involving a third person in what she and Zoey have, and, as open-minded and exploratory as Zoey is, she knows she had never thought of it either.
But the way the maknae squeezes her hand and holds her breath, looking at Rumi expectantly, but also without her usual puppy eyes, clearly not wanting it to weigh on her decision, lets Mira know that she agrees with it all, that she, too, wants it.
So they wait, giving Rumi all the time she needs to figure out what she wants. For several moments, long enough that Mira nearly starts to nod her understanding over the rejection, they all stay silent, trading looks like they want to make sure this is okay with everyone.
Rumi's eyes linger a little longer on her, so intense and analyzing that Mira feels the need to cover up, as if just by looking, Rumi can read every single thought going through her mind. The officer doesn't shy away from it, she intensifies it, then shifts to Zoey, as if expecting the shorter girl to take back her offer.
When she doesn't, Rumi hums, bringing the mug to her lips once more, sipping quietly only to scrunch her face again, cursing under her breath. Mira purses her lips just so she doesn't laugh at how adorable that is, while Zoey does let a snort escape.
"Okay," Rumi says, nose wrinkled as she puts the mug back on the table with a care that insulting coffee does not deserve.
"Okay?" Mira and Zoey say at the same time. The former was confused, surprised, though she really shouldn't be, and the latter hopeful and with contained cheer, like she wants to make sure that's what she thinks it is.
"Please, get me better coffee than this," Rumi pleads with a small, amused whine that brings a smile to Mira's lips and steals a squeal from Zoey.