Chapter Text
Mira got up early most days and today was no exception. She padded out of their bedroom and into the house proper. It was a little chilly but Mira didn't bother to put any clothing on. Just walking around in a festive pair of red and green panties and her glasses.
It was more important to get coffee and tea going or she was not going to be able to handle anything of any sort.
A little trilling sound distracted her and a black and white ball of fur uncoiled on the back of the couch. Grinning to herself, Mira stroked the tuxedo kitten's soft but long and fluffy fur.
The crime, Zoey had told her, was stored in the fur and there was so much of both that it was kind of exhausting some days, "Try to behave a little today all right?"
He chirped, which meant that he wasn't at all going to behave. He hopped off the couch to follow her into the kitchen, winding his way between her legs. She fed him first—which was always entertaining because he followed her every movement excitedly—then started the kettle and hit the appropriate buttons on the coffee machine they'd gotten last Christmas.
That had been her first Christmas back. Her first Christmas home and in their new house. But sometimes, she felt the vague sensation of loneliness, of memories that didn't quite feel right. But that feeling always passed. She always woke to her girls beside her.
She always would, she hoped.
Mira had them, her restaurant, their kitten and life was as perfect as it could ever be. She was so grateful for that.
"I love mornings," Rumi said, openly ogling her before coming in and kissing her. Rumi had had the indecency to dress, which Mira protested at.
Zoey had also unfairly gotten dressed. She kissed her and then commented, "Go put a shirt on. And pants. Our moms are coming to pick us up for shopping and we'll never get anything done with you looking like this."
"I should start sleeping in a shirt," Mira started to leave the kitchen, grinning when both of them yanked her back in.
"No," Rumi said.
"Never," Zoey agreed.
The coffee had finished and the kettle was boiling by the time they were both done with her and she was able to escape back to the bedroom to actually change for the day. That threat worked like a charm every time.
By the time she'd returned, they were reheating something for breakfast and dancing around the kitchen with a laser pointer as the kitten darted around, moving his legs so fast that he was scooby-doo scrambling on the tiles.
The visual of them with the kitten did something to the inside of her chest. She was going to marry them, she decided, like she decided every day of her life. She just needed to propose first.